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sunlit-squid · 3 years

Note

I don't care about everyone else! i care about you, SQUIDWARD! (simping softness asks)

For those who don’t know, my ask box is open. Send me a simping softness prompt, and I’ll write a short sbsp ficlet for you. ✰

so, uh -- i might have gotten a bit carried away with this prompt. it’s definitely longer than a ficlet, but oh well. either way, it was a lot of fun to write! selfish spongebob is so rarely explored.

fic under the cut. also, just in case, cw: drinking, drunkenness, etc.

Spongebob rose bright and early, long before his foghorn alarm went off at 7:00 a.m. With a cheerful shout, the poriferan jumped out of bed, earning a disgruntled “mrow” from Gary, who was still asleep nearby. Stretching vigorously, the sponge leaned down, planting a soft kiss atop the snail’s shell.

“Gary,” he whispered, practically vibrating with excitement. “Today’s the day!”

Turning away, Gary simply replied “mrow”, in a disdainful way that most certainly meant “whatever.”

Undeterred, Spongebob ran to his calendar. Sure enough, the day’s date -- July 14th -- was circled in bright-red, permanent marker, with the words “My birthday!” written neatly across it. And just below those words, was a tiny drawing of Squidward’s face, with dozens of little red hearts surrounding it.

Making his way over to the window, Spongebob gazed out at Squidward’s moai in the distance. He sighed, dreamily. What was Squidward doing right now? Probably sleeping, in that adorable dress of his.

The sponge lingered there, staring dazedly out at the moai, for perhaps a moment too long. Then, remembering himself, he sprinted to the bathroom. Once inside, Spongebob pointed a finger at his own reflection in the mirror.

“Enough beating around the bush, Mr. Squarepants!” he yelled -- much to Gary’s annoyance. The sponge lowered his voice down to a soft whisper. “Today, you tell him how you feel.”

His reflection simply shrugged. “I mean, okay,” it said. “But this is like, the 57th time you’ve said this.”

“Oh, shush.”

-0-

The party was supposed to start at 6:30, but Spongebob, in a manic cleaning fit, had the entire house ready by noon. This year, the party was themed around As The Tide Turns, a very polarizing-but-popular soap opera, especially in Bikini Bottom. If you were a Bikini Bottomite, you either watched the show genuinely, or ironically -- there was absolutely no in-between.

Spongebob and Squidward both genuinely enjoyed the show. It was one of the first things they bonded over, back when Spongebob started working at the Krusty Krab. Through the window to the galley, the two coworkers would talk for hours about the show, and whatever drama was center-stage for that season.

It got to a point where Mr. Krabs -- who only watched ATTT ironically -- got on them both, for shirking their duties.

“If yer gonna flirt,” he’d said, “do it on yer own time.”

So, Spongebob started coming over to Squidward’s house on Friday nights, when the new episodes would air. In fact, even when the show was between seasons, Spongebob still came over, just to watch reruns. It was one of the few times Squidward would (begrudgingly) let Spongebob inside, with no complaints.

Spongebob hummed softly to himself, his eyes scanning the small clipboard in front of him. Food, decorations, party games … Check, check, and check. Everything was present and accounted for -- and he had to admit, the house looked spectacular.

Every room was themed around a different, iconic arc in the ATTT series. His living room, filled with chalk drawings, crime scene tape, and red-string boards, was inspired by the murder mystery arc. His kitchen, decorated with leftover Halloween gear, was inspired by the vampire arc … and so on and so forth. Each and every room had its own particular, careful design -- and in all, it was probably Spongebob’s most intricate and detailed party to date.

That was because it had to be. Spongebob had a plan, a carefully detailed plan -- one that was sure to sweep Squidward Tentacles right off his … er, tentacles. And it went like this:

Squidward and Spongebob’s favorite arc, in all 42 seasons of As The Tide Turns, was the murder mystery. In the arc, the dashing Detective Heartthrob, accompanied by his sidekick-slash-lover Joey, must bring a heinous mass murderer to justice. At the climax, it is revealed that Detective Heartthrob is the true killer -- having been hypnotized by a witch, who was also his evil twin sister, for some reason. In the end, Joey must kill Detective Heartthrob, in a tragic display of love and sacrifice.

The season was thrilling, silly, and emotionally traumatizing, to boot. For months after the finale, Squidward and Spongebob would not shut up about it -- much to the annoyance of Mr. Krabs.

Either way, Spongebob had set up an elaborate, original mystery game, inspired by the events of the show. Each attendee would get a “random” card, assigning them a different role in the story. Squidward would be Detective Heartthrob, and Spongebob would be Joey.

Together, they would embark on an original mystery, one that Spongebob had devised all by himself. After he and Squidward solved the mystery together, and the party was over … Spongebob would finally, finally confess his feelings.

Of course, Spongebob had, more or less, rigged the game to ensure this would happen. Which was cheating, sure, but this was for love! So it couldn't possibly go wrong.

-0-

It went wrong. Almost immediately, in fact.

For one, the party started at 6:30 -- and, nearly two hours later, Squidward had yet to show up. Spongebob spent those first two hours lingering by the door, staring out the window towards the moai, and forgetting to refill the punch bowl. Sandy, ever the observant one, noticed immediately.

Pulling Spongebob aside, she asked, in a hushed voice, “Hey, partner. You good?”

“Oh, I’m -- I’m great!” chirped Spongebob, putting on his worst, most unconvincing smile. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Uh-huh,” said Sandy, flatly. “This about Squidward?”

Spongebob blushed, immediately. The squirrel sighed.

“I thought so,” she mumbled, folding her arms across her chest. “Did he say he was gonna come?”

The sponge nodded. “He said, ‘I’ll see if I can make it work’, which in Squidward-speak, is practically a yes!” groaned Spongebob, staring up at Sandy with his huge baby blue eyes. “He’ll come, right, Sandy?”

Sandy hesitated. She didn’t really know Squidward that well … but he did seem to have a soft spot for Spongebob. Awkwardly, she replied, “I mean … I can’t say for sure, but he did say he would try. Let’s be patient, okay, Spongebob? Maybe he just got caught up with something.”

Spongebob sighed, then repositioned his face into its usual chipper smile. “Alrighty. You do usually know what’s best, Sandy.”

“I sure do,” she giggled. “Oh, and Spongebob?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t cut his cable this time,” she said, before walking off to get more punch.

-0-

By 9:30, the party started to go a bit haywire. At this point, practically all of Bikini Bottom was at Spongebob’s house, except for Squidward -- and Larry thought it would be a great idea to play Truth Or Dare: Extreme Edition. The rules were pretty much the same as Truth Or Dare: Standard Edition, but with one exception: each subsequent truth or dare had to be more extreme than the last.

It started off alright. A few people were dared to take off their pants, or do a somersault down Conch Street while blindfolded. However, as the game progressed, the stakes grew astronomically. At one point, Patrick was dared to eat half of Spongebob’s pineapple. Later, Sandy was dared to juggle three of Plankton’s bombs, while riding a unicycle. Even later, Larry and Mr. Krabs were dared to switch shells and wrestle -- which wasn’t really destructive. Just disturbing.

The dares were stupid, but if there was one thing Bikini Bottomites had, it was a complete lack of common sense. Or any sense, really.

It certainly didn’t help that as the night progressed, the partygoers grew more and more … inebriated. The punch itself was non-alcoholic, but apparently, Karen and Plankton had taken it upon themselves to bring their own alcohol. Lots and lots of alcohol.

By 10:30, Squidward still hadn’t shown up yet. Several people had either passed out or thrown up. And the pineapple was a complete disaster.

Spongebob sighed. He was seated on his living room sofa now, watching as the partygoers reveled inside (and outside) his home. Of course, the sponge was happy they were enjoying themselves -- but this day was supposed to be about him, and … well, nothing had gone as planned. His entire house was destroyed, it would take days to clean up the mess -- and Squidward hadn’t even bothered to show up! The nerve.

“Hey Patrick,” muttered Spongebob, waving a tired yellow hand at his drunken best friend.

Immediately, the starfish stumbled over to him, drink in hand. “Wha… haha … whasss’ up, Spunchblarb?” he slurred.

Spongebob pointed to the drink in Patrick’s hand. “Could I have that?”

Patrick grinned widely. “Yeeeeeahh! Now -- now, yer talkin’, buddy!” And with that, the starfish handed Spongebob his first drink of the night.

-0-

About three drinks in, Spongebob Squarepants was well and truly intoxicated. Which was nice, in a way. Now, the world was a weird, misty haze, and he didn’t have to worry about his pineapple being destroyed, or his party being ruined, or Squidward, or whatever. Now, he could just be peacefully drunk and stupid, just like everybody else in his house. Blissfully unaware of the world around them.

As the night went on, Spongebob began losing track of time. What time was it? Midnight? 3:00 a.m.? Did it even matter?

Over the course of one very stupid evening, Spongebob made more than a few bad decisions. For one, he bought like, ten mops online. Which was both counterproductive (he was a sponge) and financially irresponsible (he was also a frycook). Later, the sponge swam to the surface of the ocean to see how long he could breathe without water. He fainted within the first ten seconds, and had to be retrieved by Larry. After that, the night became a dizzying blur. Spongebob was certain he had been driving, at one point, and also dancing, and maybe singing?

Either way, several hours later, Spongebob was still dancing in his living room, a lampshade stuck on his head, when he felt something on his shoulder. Turning woozily, the sponge tried to get into “kara-tay” position, and ultimately failed.

“Who -- what -- stay back! I’m warning you!” shouted the sponge. “I know … er, kar .. karat … carrots?”

There was a familiar sigh, then a soft chuckle. “Oh, you moron,” came a voice, a voice that Spongebob loved so dearly, even in this drunken state. “You’re drunk, aren’t you?”

“Squ … squib … ?”

“Yeah,” said Squidward, wrenching the lampshade off of Spongebob’s head. “It’s me. Sorry I’m late.”

Spongebob looked up at Squidward -- and in his inebriated, hazy stupor, he couldn’t take it. He loved him so much, and for so long. It hurt. Tears pricked the corners of his eyes. “Squi -- Squidward, you -- you came,” the sponge stammered, his bottom lip quivering. “I -- I didn’t think …”

“Hush,” said Squidward, looking around the room. “This is, uh … wow, you really had a rager, huh? I didn’t think you had it in you, Spongebob.”

Stepping away, Squidward began picking up random items off the floor -- the punch bowl, some photographs, and a spilled carton of milk. The octopus had to step over and around several bodies, which were lying passed out on Spongebob’s floor.

“Listen, I’m gonna try and find a way to get everyone home,” said Squidward, sifting his way through the pile of garbage and bodies. “Everyone else is knocked out -- ”

Spongebob had had it. He’d had enough. He’d planned out this whole day perfectly, just for Squidward to not show up, for his whole house to be demolished in the chaos. Sure, he was glad everyone had a good time, but deep down, Spongebob was a little selfish, and deep down --

“I don’t care about everyone else!” shouted Spongebob, clenching his fists at his sides. “I care about you, Squidward!”

Squidward, startled, nearly dropped everything he was holding -- and before he could properly respond, Spongebob fell over, unconscious.

-0-

For once, Spongebob didn’t wake up to the sound of his foghorn. Instead, he woke up to the sound of the television nearby. Very soft dialogue wafted its way over to the sponge, bathing him in its pleasant familiarity.

“Why, Joey, I think you’re right -- the killer is closer than we seem to think!”

“Then we best get cracking, Detective Heartthrob!”

Groaning, Spongebob sat up -- a dull, throbbing pain coursing through his skull. Dear Neptune. What happened last night? There was the party, the drinking, and … Squidward, maybe? Spongebob felt his heart drop at the thought of his neighbor, and sighed. He hadn’t gotten to tell Squidward how he felt. Attempt 57 had failed. Miserably.

Blinking slowly, the sponge looked around, and with surprise noted that his bedroom was not a mess, like it had been during the party. In fact, it was squeaky clean. The only thing out of place was the living room television, which had been moved to the end of Spongebob’s bed. The TV was playing an old rerun of As The Tide Turns, from the murder mystery arc. A smile tugged at Spongebob’s lips. How ironic.

Wait a minute. Who moved the TV?

Just then, there were footsteps on the stairs -- the tell-tale pat-pat-pat-pat of someone with four legs. Squidward. He was still here! Steeling himself, Spongebob sat at attention, gripping the blankets tightly.

When Squidward entered, he was holding a tray of food and wearing a long pink apron. When he saw that Spongebob was now conscious, the octopus jumped, nearly dropped the food, then steadied himself just in time.

“Squidward!” said Spongebob, cheerily. “You’re here!”

“Of course I’m here, you nitwit,” muttered Squidward. “Who else was gonna clean up that messy party of yours?”

Squidward crossed the room to place the food tray on Spongebob’s nightstand. Once there, the octopus shoved a glass of water and two pills into the poriferan’s hands, with one simple command: “Drink.”

Spongebob did so, gratefully. Then, he asked, “The party … what all happened?”

“I don’t know, but it was a mess,” sighed Squidward. “I’m pretty sure half the town was completely passed out by the time I got here. I’m surprised the cops didn’t get involved.”

“Oh,” said Spongebob, feeling very guilty all of a sudden. “Did -- did everyone get home okay?”

“Yeah,” said Squidward. “Listen, don’t -- don’t worry about it, okay? I took care of everything. Your house is clean, Gary is fed, everyone got home. That’s all.” Squidward’s cheeks were stained red.

Spongebob smiled, his heart jumping happily in his chest. “Thank you, Squidward.”

After a moment of silence, Squidward brought the food tray up to Spongebob’s lap. “You should … you should eat that,” he muttered, then took a deep breath. “Look, I … I’m sorry I was so late, alright? The truth is, I … I got caught up.”

With a mouthful of food, Spongebob asked, “Wif whaf?”

Squidward grimaced. “You’re disgusting,” he snapped, then looked away, blushing brightly. “Anyway, I … was trying to get ahold of your birthday present. It was supposed to be delivered here, to Conch Street, yesterday -- but I guess there was a mix-up, and it was instead delivered to Conch Road, which is … in an entirely different town. Several hours away.”

Spongebob blinked. “You drove all the way to get it?”

Squidward scowled. “Whatever,” he snapped, pulling a small red present box from beneath Spongebob’s bed. “Either way, it’s here. So, I guess … open it, maybe.”

Shoveling down the rest of his food (much to Squidward’s disgust), the sponge quickly shredded the pristine red wrapping paper to reveal -- a boxed set of the entire As The Tide Turns series. The extended edition, with all the bonus scenes and commentary tracks. And to top it all off -- the box was signed by the stars of the show.

Spongebob looked up at Squidward, eyes shimmering with shock and awe. “Squidward, this is -- this is amazing, I thought they didn’t sell these anymore!”

“Oh, trust me,” said Squidward, shuddering. “You have no idea what I had to do to get my hands on that.”

“Let me guess,” said Spongebob, holding up two yellow hands to form finger-guns. In his best Joey impression, the sponge said, “You had to kill a lotta folks, didn’t ya, Detective Heartthrob?”

Squidward chuckled immediately. In one suave motion, he leaned against Spongebob’s bed, and pointed a finger-gun of his own. In his best Detective Heartthrob impression, the octopus replied, “I did, and I don’t regret it at all, Joey!”

The two laughed for a good long while. Then, suddenly embarrassed once more, Squidward looked away. Taking a deep breath, the octopus said, “Look, Sponge, I -- last night, you said something kinda weird, and I wanted to know if -- if maybe --”

“Huh?”

“You said -- you only cared about me, not anyone else, and I -- I wanted to ask,” stammered Squidward, “... what exactly … you meant by that.”

Spongebob’s eyes widened. Oh, barnacles. Did he really say that? Well … there was no hiding it now. Gripping his sheets tight, Spongebob steeled himself for what was to come. “It means I … I wanna keep hanging out with you, Squidward,” said the sponge, staring down at his yellow knuckles. “I wanna hang out with you more than anyone else.”

Squidward swallowed, hard. “Sponge, what are you saying?”

Spongebob looked up. Their eyes met. “I like you,” said the sponge, smiling nervously. “A … a lot.”

A long moment of silence passed. Spongebob’s heart hammered furiously at his chest. Then, Squidward sighed, and picked up the ATTT boxed set. Walking over to Spongebob’s TV, the octopus inserted the first disc, grabbed the remote, and returned to Spongebob’s side.

Lifting the blankets, the octopus said, “Scooch over.”

Spongebob blinked, then did as instructed. “Why?” he asked.

“You really are an idiot,” muttered Squidward, climbing into bed with him. “It’s a Sunday, the Krusty Krab is closed, and we have a whole boxed set to watch together. Might as well start now.”

Spongebob smiled, happily. “So -- so you -- ”

Squidward rolled his eyes. “If you must know, yes, I … I like you,” he snapped. “I’m not gonna drive halfway across the ocean floor for just anybody, you know.”

Spongebob grinned stupidly. “I guess not.”

With that, the show began, its melodramatic theme tune echoing pleasantly across Spongebob’s pineapple home. And just below the bed, Gary let out a soft, contended meow -- which almost certainly meant “finally.”

-0-

References:

The line about cutting Squidward’s cable is a reference to the episode “Party Pooper Pants”, in which Spongebob cuts Squidward’s cable to get him to come over for a party.

#sbsp #my fics #spongebob squarepants #squidbob #spongeward #spongebob #squidward #ask #asks #sunlit-squid

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starstress · 3 years

Text

Everfar

Iskall's been waiting to get revenge for his first attempt at getting the tag, and this lil trap was simply perfect! That he succeeds and the tag is now his is no surprise, but what is one is Grian’s reaction to the trap itself. The aftermath of it is not nearly as sweet as he’d expected it to be, but Grian needs a friend and that’s exactly what he’ll be.

Inspired by the scenes when Grian loses the tag to Iskall, but a more dramatic and angsty re-telling with a lot of soft friendship feels as well.

He’d been waiting. And waiting. And waiting some more.

Honestly, what could possibly take Grian so long to come by his own base?

He grumbled and got up from his minecart, glancing around the row of hoppers and furnaces. The words on signs labeling the input and output flow of items had started blurring together about an hour ago, and not because of a lack of sleep. Unlike some hermits, he could respect a somewhat good resting schedule.

He knew to take care of himself, thank you very much! Unless he got into a mood and just kept working until he was dizzy, of course, and he’d have to listen to the other hermits’ mother-henning rants like they didn’t do the same, and one of them would supervise him and make sure he took care of himself, and ugh.

He sighed and resigned himself to more waiting.

Iskall grinned as he watched through the window as the other Hermit rushed back to his base. The open shock on Grian’s face was priceless and he felt vindicated for his first attempt at getting the Tag. Which he had on a finger, spinning it with a self-satisfied grin like the fox that got the chicken. Heh, Poultry Man, he internally snickered and his grin got impossibly bigger.

As Grian finally reached the broken window, he could finally hear him. The poor guy was breathing heavily and muttering something that was too quiet for Iskall to make out. The blond climbed through, not even noticing the other man at the edge of the blown wood floor. He glanced around astonished, first at the window, then at the floor and the walls and stepped through the gap in the glass, almost stumbling in, and finally Iskall could hear him.

“My windows! My stuff!” His voice was so high pitched and Iskall burst into laughter, and wheezing.

At long last, Grian took notice of him.

“No, you didn’t!!” Grian whisper-shouted, tone slowly falling back into its usual pitch.

Although disbelief was still present in his voice, laughter began cracking through, and he looked like he was fighting back a smile.

“Hello!” Iskall said, grin ever-present and Tag still spinning.

“Hello!” He got back, but the blonde’s attention quickly switched to the items still scattered on the floor.

Grian began jumping around, grabbing them as fast as he could and shoving them in his inventory, all the while mumbling ‘No no no’. His voice started to bounce from normal to high-pitched and back every few words. All that was followed by a half-manic sounding giggle and Iskall could barely keep himself from completely crumbling to the floor.

“Revenge at last!” the Swede teased, not wasting any time flexing and waving the Tag in Grian’s face.

The look on his friend’s face almost had him on the floor again with smugness and laughter.

“Ohhhh, he’s got it!!” Grian said to himself and the brunet swiftly perked up at that, starting to play around with the accursed Tag. “Using Mumbo’s messaging system-“ he cut himself off, shock still present. “Oh my goodness…” he breathed, staring wide-eyed at Iskall.

“I’ll help you, G, don’t worry!” Iskall replied instead, smirking.

He was definitely going to help him repair everything, he wasn’t a griefer nor a cruel person after all.

“You’ll help me?” Grian asked back, half grin present in his voice. “I don’t think I want your help!” he said, smile wide.

He slowly sorted through his inventory, ignoring the man standing on the intact part of his floor.

“I don’t think I want your- I don’t think I want my-“ he repeated, and finally turned back to Iskall, “I don’t think I need your help!” he shot back at him, still somewhat in shock and slightly amused.

He continued mumbling for quite a bit, but Iskall was a bit further from him, playing around with the Tag and jumping around the base. Grian would occasionally look up at him from his monologue, probably promising revenge, and Iskall would struggle not to crack up again. He was only able to discern random words and sounds as the other vented out his disgruntlement, but went back when he realized his pumpkin pies were the ones floating in a pile on the floor.

“Waaait a minute! Those are my pumpkin pies!” he laughed.

Grian looked up at him from the mess of items on the floor and sticked out his tongue.

“Bounty of war!” His friend said and returned to surveying the extent of the damage the explosion had caused. “Look at this! The observer track going all the way up to the ceiling…” He trailed off, half in awe and half in displeasure.

Then, he glanced at the end of it all, at the bell that had been resounding in Iskall’s brain for hours on end. The whine in his voice when he spoke up again was a both surprising and hilarious and Iskall grinned at him.

“I feel so betrayed! I feel so betrayed!” Grian murmured, still sorting through his inventory, throwing stuff around. “I thought- I thought that Mumbo- I thought that Mumbo sent me a message!” He said, voice still slightly high and full of disbelief.

It was hilarious to Iskall, who somehow managed to not utter one sound that entire time, holding back giggles like a child with their hands full of cookies.

Until Grian looked up at him, eyes wide and glossy, the whiny tone making space for a small little hitch and a slight breathlessness that made him straighten up almost immediately.

“Did-“ Grian tried, “Did M-Mum, Mumbo even-?” He took a breath, trying to calm down, “Did Mumbo even send that message?” He finally asked.

Iskall tried not to frown, tried to pass the seed of alarm growing in his chest off, and answered honestly.

“No,” He began, somewhat hesitant, watching Grian’s face fall, smile, and amusement dissipating, “ Ehm, that was me.”

When Grian crumbled to the stone underfloor, he realized his gut hadn’t been lying.

Something was wrong. Something that run deeper than just a trap message and a bit of property damage.

He rushed to him, kneeling down, feeling at a complete loss. The sudden change in mood had him off balance and he tried to understand how to piece together the puzzle pieces he’d not known he’d been gathering.

When Grian burst into tears and half-intelligible sentences, he pulled him close.

He lifted him up, slowly and steadily, barely feeling the other’s weight, and carried him to the still intact parts of the wooden floor. He settled the both of them against the wall and hugged him tightly, letting him sob into his vest and hoodie.

“The worst thing ever is that Mumbo’s not messaging me!” his friend wailed, “He’s- he’s not even saying hello or replying to mine or at least-“ he sobbed, curling himself as small as he could be and Iskall’s heart clenched painfully.

He knew Mumbo was scarcely using the messaging tunnel, the man himself had told him. But he hadn’t thought it would mean so much to Grian, and, most likely, Mumbo hadn’t either. If he’d known, the moustached man would have been bending backwards to send messages to their friend until the tunnel was full and bursting with them.

He hummed, a deep and soft sound, rubbing Grian’s back and letting him lean on him for as long as he needed.

He knew Grian needed to let it out, to empty the hurt from his heart and drain the tears in his eyes.

It could have been a minute or it could have been an hour, but at some point, his sobs slowed, his hiccups stopped. Though he didn’t lift his head from Iskall’s shoulder and his breathing was still heavy and his face was still red and hot, he seemed calmer.

As he hugged Grian closer still, he felt him shift, and a soft and sudden tingling in the air he’d long since learned to associate with magic made him loosen his hold on the smaller man. In the corner of his eye, he saw a magnificent pair of wings flash into existence, attached to Grian’s back.

The builder tried flapping them instinctively, but, slightly trapped as they were between the two of them and the wall, they only managed a short and jerky beat. They settled quickly after that, one curling around Grian’s free side and the other wrapping around Iskall as he briefly lifted his back from its slumped position against the wall.

Despite them being in one of their smaller forms, they still almost fully enclosed around the two of them. Iskall smiled fondly at Grian, though he knew the other wouldn’t see it. The builder had been them with the Hermits for years now, and still showed some reticence of having his wings out in the open.

This, however, this instinctual wish for comfort that came from inside Grian, not only let loose in front of Iskall, but around Iskall too, warmed him up like a sweet cinnamon roll fresh out of the oven. He hugged the other tighter, sighing into his soft hair and felt, in response, a brief tightening of the feathers around him.

“It’s just such a little thing, we see each other every few days and talk and work and whatnot, so I shouldn’t have any reason to think he’s ignoring me or something…” Grian sniffled, “But I can’t help it. It makes me so upset, I hate it, Iskall.” He said, voice hushed and high, and he curled up against the older man’s chest more, somehow finding more space to burrow into, as if Iskall hadn’t all but crushed him in the hug.

“Oh G…” the Swede sighed. “It’s the little things that do us in, I guess.” He said and thought back to a certain breakdown episode from way back in the days of Sahara. He slowly rubbed up and down Grian’s back, careful around his wings, trying to offer some comfort beyond just words. “I don’t think he’s ignoring the messages intentionally, though. He’s probably being a spoon again, honestly.”

And he was, but Iskall figured the two needed to talk about this together rather than through a messenger.

He felt the other nod slowly against his shoulder and sighed. When Grian tensed at the sound of it, he squeezed him tightly but carefully, and relief coursed through his veins when the other relaxed against him completely.

“Maybe we should go and get a bit of revenge by giving him a dose of his own medicine.” Iskall fumed, but both of them knew it was mostly for show. Mostly.

Iskall would probably not actually dish out any punishment to Mumbo, since it wasn’t exactly his, or anyone’s, fault, but a few pranks and traps here and there wouldn’t see too out of place, he mused.

Grian laughed wetly, wiping away any stray tears still clinging to his eyelashes. He probably guessed the line of thought that Iskall’s mind had followed.

“Maybe.” He grinned up at his friend.

Iskall shifted, trying to find a more comfortable spot in the hard wood floor, thankful for the soft feathers at his back and then grinned, distracted. He glanced down at the man leaning against him and poked his side, careful not to tickle him.

“I could totally sic EX or Joe on him though,” he teased, mirth overflowing from his words. “Maybe even X or False.”

After all, it was known server-wide just how protective Joe, False and quite a few other hermits could get, as well as the fact that EX was oddly protective of the creator of one of his best friends.

He felt Grian jump and wheezed, totally expecting the reaction.

“You wouldn’t!” the blonde hissed, mortified. His eyes were wide and red-rimmed, and Iskall had to stop himself from cooing at his adorable friend.

“I would and you know that they would!” he laughed, “They’d absolutely super mega would! EX especially!”

“Oh goodness, please don’t!” Grian whined and blushed up to the tips of his ears, hiding his head in the brunet’s vest while Iskall continued to laugh. “Noooo!” he giggled, now trying to rise up from the floor and escape Iskall’s hug.

The redstoner wouldn’t let go, however, determined to tease his friend back into a brighter mood. He held on and they both ended up tumbling on the floor, Grian wheezing as the other landed right on top of him, squishing him.

They burst out laughing, wheezing for a few good minutes down there.

After calming down, Iskall shifted and Grian let him lift his arms up and around his neck as he looked at him curiously. The redstoner suddenly heaved them both up, the flier hanging from around his shoulders only by his arms and Iskall’s hands around his waist to support him like a sack of potatoes. It made Grian burst into laughter again, barely remembering to keep his grip on the other's hoodie.

Iskall grunted and grumbled about his weight, but held on to him nonetheless.

“Couldn’t be too comfortable for those wings of yours to be squished by all of these mega, nay- OMEGA muscles, ey?” Iskall grinned down at his friend.

In response, Grian grinned back brightly, unabashedly fluttering his wings and remained hanging, feet even lifted away from the floor.

Iskall sighed, both exasperated and fond.

“Okay, you little nuisance, let’s sit down to eat and then tuck you into bed, you’ve had enough excitement for one day.” He said, and turned to half-walk, half-waddle to the center of Grian’s hobbit base.

He knew his friend hadn’t exactly had much comfort in mind when he made the base, but he figured the nice cozy little space that Professor Beak had would make for a much better sitting and relaxing place.

“I’m not a little kid, Iskall!” Grian pouted up at him.

“Says the pouting man hanging to me like a little baby.” Came the good-natured snarky response from the redstoner.

Grian resisted sticking out his tongue, and instead sighed and snuggled closer, tucking his head onto Iskall’s shoulder.

The older man said nothing, stopping only to instinctively shift the smaller man into a better position, higher too, so that his legs could just stand freely instead of being held up. He carefully tuck his wings closed as well, smoothing any stay feathers that had been disturbed, and felt the soft feathers brush against the arm he used as the other's support.

“Do they bother you?” Grian mumbled, face half-hidden and sleepy.

“No, no.” Iskall said, smiling down reassuringly. “I really like them, G. Maybe you should let them out more often, stretch them out properly instead of using the Elytras.” Iskall continued, before quietly adding, “The others are totally fine with them. Bet they’d love to see you with them more often too.”

Grian hummed, a small and thoughtful sound, before flapping his wings briefly and shoving his face into Iskall’s vest.

“Stay with me?” he asked, voice small, but mostly sleepy. “Please?”

Iskall blinked down at him, and smiled softly, though the other couldn’t see it.

“Of course, G. Rest well.” He whispered, knowing that Grian had already slipped into slumber and instead turned towards the stairs leading to the blonde’s bedroom.

A nap sounded fantastic and he wouldn’t say no to his friend anyway, especially when he needed some well-deserved comfort.

End.

Hi all! I decided to try my hand at posting a fic on tumblr as well. I’m really new at this, so if anyone has any advice I’d be grateful for it!

This is part 2 of my 20-part (20 for now, might add to the number later) series which will feature mostly Grian and Mumbo, as well as mostly implied Grumbo named Putting the Ever in Forever. Right now there’s only 2 parts up, with the others still very much in the planning zone. There’s a lot more details on the ao3 version, but I welcome any and all questions about it both here and there!

I’ll be adding a link to the ao3 version in a reblog in a tiny bit, or you could use the link in my bio!

Thank you for reading and checking this out!

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ri-ahhh · 4 years

Text

desert secrets

MJ meets a helpful stranger in the desert that turns out to be more than she hoped for.

7k holy shit lol

warnings: some pretty unrealistic fluff that might get your hopes up that you’ll have a meet-cute with Grayson

***

Shit. Fuck. Fuck. Shit. Shit on a fucking stick. You actual fucking idiot, MJ.

A stream of thoughts along these general lines becomes her stream of conscience as MJ Macias plops down on a large rock, throwing her head back to the sky to bask in the sun and her own general incompetency. Maybe the heat of the desert mountain sun beating on her face will cause her to shrivel up and disintegrate to become lizard food or something — the thought isn’t altogether unwelcome.

Her trip to the middle of nowhere was meant to clear her mind both through exercise in the form of a nice, long hike, as well as simply by being alone amongst nature, under an endless expanse of clouds and stars. The week had been pure hell for her: she had been let go from her dream job at her marketing firm in the latest round of budget-related layoffs; received a ticket from a dickhead cop for going 34 in a 30; and discovered last night that the hot water heater in her apartment had broken. To top it all off, her ex had been harassing her relentlessly over texts and calls, wanting to meet up and ‘talk about things’ since she had dumped him two months ago.

So as she cried hot tears in a frigid shower that morning, thoroughly wallowing in self-pity, an idea popped into her head that was so spontaneous and ridiculous she didn't even try to talk herself out of it: go on a solo camping trip.

MJ really has no idea why this of all the therapeutic outlets available to her was something her brain decided was the right one, since a camper she is not. Sure, she loves being outside in the sun for a good hike, or a swim in the ocean once in a while — nature isn’t the problem. It’s the whole navigating-desert-terrain-alone-and-sleeping-on-the-ground thing that isn’t usually at the top of her list of fun weekend activities. The tent and sleeping bag that she had been forced to purchase for the ridiculous bachelorette party of one of her very outdoorsy friends had called her name as she paced manically around her apartment that morning, though.

Did she have every intent to return them after their one-time use? Absolutely. Did they both end up getting thrown to the back of her storage closet and thus forgotten about until then? Also, yes.

Both her practically nonexistent camping experience and her general lack of enthusiasm for the activity as a whole should have been her first clues at how moronic she was for thinking this is a trip she should (or could) handle alone. But, now determined to have the ultimate self-care weekend, she had: packed a backpack as an overnight bag; tossed it with her shitty little tent and a cooler full of snacks and water in the back of her car; texted her best friend Lainey to sound the alarm if she wasn’t home in 36 hours; and driven away to the first camping ground Google showed her that was at least 100 miles outside of LA. It seemed adventurous and spontaneous an indie movie-esque at the time.

But now, as she sits on this rock, feet and back aching, utterly fucking lost, MJ is starting to feel more like she’s on a self-inflicted episode of Punk’d. Being very directionally challenged, she had been using the maps feature on her phone to find her way back to her campsite after going on a winding, hilly hike, until her phone had suddenly died. The trails have no legible signs so between her use of the GPS, the borderline stalker-ish calls from her ex, and the heat of the sun, she’s left without her lifeline much sooner than she could have anticipated.

She thinks of her backpack and the battery-powered charger in her tent. In a moment of pure rage with herself for being such a lost, ill-prepared dumbass, she wants nothing more than to run back up the mountain and punt the now useless little piece of metal and plastic into the abyss. Her inner drama queen thinks maybe the best thing that could happen is that it will fall on a mountain lion, which will devour her out of anger before she shrivels up into lizard food, and put her out of her misery early.

MJ rolls her eyes at how ridiculous she’s being, and forces herself to take a deep breath and think. Her inner antics really do bring up an actually pressing issue. There are plenty of animals out here that don’t need any iPhone provocation to attack, and she’s only armed with a half-empty HydroFlask and a sparkly purple tube of pepper spray. Not to mention, judging from the incurring pinkness of the sky, the sun is going to set soon, and with that means it’ll be getting cold as well. She looks down at her thin Lulu Lemon tank top and shorts.

Fuuuck.

Knowing she has to make a decision, MJ doesn’t second guess herself when her feet heave her body off of her rock and set off further down the trail. Her only hopes at this point are to either miraculously stumble upon her camp before dark, or pray that she runs into fellow campers that might have a portable charger and that also aren’t serial killers. The only people she had passed on her hike had been a middle-aged couple and a woman maybe a little older than herself with a dog, but she couldn't have any idea if they were staying on the campgrounds or merely taking a day trip. Like she should have done.

MJ walks down the trail a solid 20 minutes, and wonders where the hell she had actually gone on her hike to be so far out from her own campsite. Inexperience with the outdoors had made her assume all the trails met up in a circle, but clearly that isn’t the case here. She’s already out of the hiking trail and in one of the areas designated for camping, but there are a couple of those around the park and she has no clue which one she had chosen.

Trying and failing to keep the creeping worry out of her spine as a few clouds turn orange and the noises of the nocturnal wildlife start up, she picks up her pace.

She’s about to resign herself to huddling in an unoccupied camping spot for the night when she suddenly sees flumes of smoke about a football field away. The Hallelujah chorus fills her head, and she mumbles out a quick ‘thank you’ to whoever is listening as she practically speed-walks to her impending safety.

The smell of the crackling wood draws her nearer and nearer. When she finally rounds the corner, she’s surprised and disappointed to see that while there is indeed a small fire burning, as well as a deconstructed tent piled on the ground, the occupant of the campsite is nowhere to be found. MJ hesitates and looks around for any sign of them, not foreseeing this issue. Should she wait around like a creep? Keep walking and hope to run into them?

“Can I help you?”

MJ startles out of her skin and lets out an embarrassing little squeak. She whips around and is thoroughly unprepared to see what just might be the hottest guy she’s ever had the pleasure of laying her eyes on in real life. Judging from her own height, he’s maybe six foot or a tad over; his thick arms are laden with a bulky backpack and a sleeping bag, and his dark hazel eyes observe her warily behind a flop of dark wavy hair.

“Uh,” she begins stupidly, slightly stunned by both his sudden appearance and his masculine beauty. “Yeah, um, I’m so sorry to intrude on your space but, I, you know, got a little confused on the trails and, uh…”

He raises a naturally arched eyebrow expectantly as she pauses and stumbles over her words. MJ looks at him, then releases a huge breath she hadn't even realized had been held in her chest until this moment, officially giving up on not sounding like a complete and total idiot.

“I’m fucking lost. I have a terrible sense of direction and was using a map online of the trails to find the pin I dropped on my campsite, but my phone died. Is there any chance you have a portable charger I can use for, like, twenty minutes?”

The guy chuckles, and despite her pure mortification at the situation, MJ cracks a smile too, glad to see he isn’t pissed at her for lurking around his campsite like the actual weirdo she is. Unfortunately for her, though, his crooked grin somehow makes him even more attractive, which doesn’t bode well for her already inevitable awkwardness.

“Uh, yeah, I have my Mophie in here somewhere,” he says, indicating the backpack in his arms. He nods his head in the direction of his campsite where there is a large stone clearly put there by park officials as a makeshift bench. “Come on over and I’ll find it.”

“Thank you,” MJ sighs in relief. She follows him through the gap in the log threshold, and when he drops the items he’s carrying on the ground, she gapes; holy shit, the man is built. She could tell he had pythons for arms, but the stuffed backpack and sleeping bag had hidden the way his plain white t-shirt stretches taut over every solid, muscled crevice of his torso.

She shakes her head and hopes he can’t sense her obvious stare that has since traveled from the breadth of his shoulders, down his tapered waist, settled on his ass, and finished on the multitude of tattoos decorating his legs as he walks in front of her. MJ finds every one of these aspects of him immensely appealing; she’s never felt so viscerally attracted to a complete stranger in her entire life.

MJ settles on the rock and, sensing some of the aforementioned awkwardness about to settle in the air, searches her brain for a way to alleviate it. She knows she’ll only be here a short amount of time, but she feels compelled to get to know him even just a little bit. And to not make a complete fool of herself, if possible.

“What’s your name?” she asks. That’s a safe place to start. She hugs her knees to her chest as she watches him arrange the stuff he had just dropped into a neater pile.

“Grayson,” he replies. Grayson crouches down to dig through his backpack and flashes her a friendly, blinding smile over his shoulder. “Yours?”

As if she couldn’t embarrass herself any more, she feels a flush rise to her cheeks. For fucks sake, she isn’t 16 talking to her high school crush — she’s a grown woman who has been with plenty of guys and knows how to have a simple conversation with one, no matter how hot they are.

“MJ,” she finally manages to get out.

“MJ,” he repeats, testing it on his tongue, nodding approvingly. “That’s cool. I don't think I’ve ever met a girl with that kind of name. What does it stand for?”

He stands and turns to face her. He extends the little black charger to her and MJ looks up at him through her lashes as he towers over her, biting her lip. Flirting isn’t her strong suit whatsoever, but she can’t help trying; it’s not like she’s going to see him again by the time the sun sets.

“It’s a secret,” she answers after a brief moment, taking the Mophie from Grayson and accidentally-on-purpose brushing the tips of her fingers against the back of his. “Thanks.”

Grayson raises his eyebrows, but a humored grin graces his full lips. “Okay,” he says, surprising her by taking a seat next to her as she plugs in her phone. “But who better to spill your secrets to than a total stranger, you know?”

MJ can’t help the giggle that escapes her throat, humored more by the fact that he seems to be having the same idea of fuck it, we won’t ever see each other again, as her, than his actual question. His nearness should make her uncomfortable, but it just…doesn’t; he’s close enough for her to smell his scent emanating from his warm body. Clean, like laundry and soap, but also hints of an earthy, masculine cologne and an admittedly enticing musk from being in the sun. She wants to lean in and inhale him.

God, she hopes she isn’t coming off as insane as she feels inside. What is wrong with her? He’s just a guy. A guy whose close proximity as a stranger should be making her feel intimidated rather than buzzing with electricity.

“You’re very right,” she says, leaning back on her hands to appear more relaxed. “If I die out here in the wilderness, killed by my own stupidity, I wouldn't want the last person to see me alive not know my real name.”

Grayson throws his head back and laughs, and it draws one from herself as well. She likes his laugh because despite the deep timbre of his voice, the sound is carefree and boyish.

“It’s Makenna Jean,” she finally admits once they both quiet down. “I’m named after my grandmothers, but my mom didn't like your typical shortenings people might automatically give to Makenna — you know, Mack, Ken, Kenna, all those. So she just started calling me MJ to avoid it all, and…that’s me, MJ.”

He nods in understanding. “Gotcha.”

They continue effortless conversation for a while, words and laughter flowing freely from their lips with an ease that MJ hasn’t experienced in years. In the first lull, though, MJ fills it with a sigh and extends her long legs to stretch them as they tire from being folded so closely to her body, flexing and pointing her toes. She knows her shorts are a little too short, her tank top a little low cut, even with a sports bra on. It’s another one of those accidentally-on-purpose moves that starts as inadvertent in the way it exposes and elongates her body, but ends in her relishing the way his eyes quickly dart across her form. She’s reticent to admit that she isn’t mad about it. Not even a little.

She ducks her head and bites her lip to hide a triumphant smirk as Grayson clears his throat and runs a hand through his hair. “So, are you out here by yourself?”

For the first time since she met him, a little swoop of nerves unrelated to her attraction to him passes through the pit of her stomach. She feels like she’s always had a spot-on instinct for determining someone’s ‘vibes’, and Grayson has only given her good ones since the minute she saw him. Maybe she’s fallen victim to the Ted Bundy effect, though…

He seems to pick up on her hesitation, and Grayson slaps his palm to his forehead, squeezing his eyes shut. “Fuck, sorry, that was so creepy. I didn't mean it like that, I was just, uh, making conversation.” He opens his eyes and rubs his forehead and, to her shock, is he blushing now? “I promise I’m not a murderer.”

She might have still been weirded out by a guy even putting the word out there in this situation, but her gut is telling her that Grayson is harmless, and she prides herself on being a pretty good judge of character.

“It’s okay,” she says, giving him a serious look. “I promise I’m not either. But you should know that I’m packing heat with a fully loaded can of mace and my best white belt skills from the karate classes my mom made me take in 4th grade.”

Grayson gives her a disbelieving look. “Fourth grade karate, huh?”

“Yep. For real, I’ll karate chop your arm off if you try anything sketch.”

“Try,” he challenges with a beautiful, dangerous smile, leaning in ever so slightly and looking her dead in the eye. It takes her breath away a little bit. “I dare you.”

MJ scoffs, still keeping up this facade that she isn’t fighting every primal urge to mount him, especially with the unmistakeable tinge of flirtation in his last words.

“Fine,” she accepts. Grayson grins wider and leans back, offering her his right arm. “Get ready.”

“Oh, I am.”

She lines her hand up with the dip in his muscles between his shoulder and the top of his bicep, rears it back, and —

“Ow!”

The side of her hand simply bounces off of the solid mass of his bulging arm. Grayson does that head-back belly laugh again and she pretends to pout as she rubs her sore hand. “That hurt way more than it should have!” she exclaims. “What are you, Superman?”

Grayson, still laughing, grabs her hand in his and strokes it rather tenderly considering the sheer size of his palm compared to hers. And it’s so cliche, but MJ swears she feels tingles where their skin connects.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he says, biting his lip in an attempt to contain himself. “It’s just, in the least misogynistic way possible, that was high-key cute.”

“Hmph.” MJ scrunches her nose at him as her heart drops to her stomach in the best, scariest way.

Uh oh. He's a stranger, MJ; you’ve known him for half an hour, MJ; you’re in the middle of nowhere, MJ — you can’t catch feelings for a stranger you’ve know for half an hour in the middle of nowhere, MJ…

She clears her throat and gives his hand a slight squeeze before extracting it from his grip, hoping that conveys that she doesn’t disapprove of his touch. But the sun is well on it’s way to setting, and she does need to check her phone battery. It’s at 28%, not as much as she hoped for but probably enough to do the trick.

Shit. MJ really, really doesn’t want to leave him, but she can’t exactly invite herself to stay longer. She had already kept him from building his tent, and his fire is starting to die as well. She turns back to face him only to find his eyes trained on her, brow slightly scrunched. Her belly swoops again.

“I should, ah, probably get going,” MJ admits quietly, fidgeting with her fingers. A shiver runs down her spine and goosebumps raise themselves up the skin of her arms, too, as the setting sun steadily lowers the temperature around them. She crosses her arms across her chest, partly for warmth and partly to hide her stiffened nipples that peak through her thin sports bra and tank. “Or I really will kill myself out here in the dark by walking off a cliff or something.”

Grayson smiles woefully and lets out a little huff, ducking his gaze down for a moment and picking at a thread on his shorts. “Yeah, I understand.”

Is it her imagination or does he sound…disappointed?

When he looks back up at her, the sudden intensity of his gaze makes her swallow thickly. She wants so badly to ask for his number, his Instagram, his last name, but it all seems too weird given the circumstances and the amount of time (or lack thereof) they’ve spent together. Besides, she thinks, she’s still dealing with a psycho ex amongst the rest of her life falling apart, and doesn’t need any more boy problems in her already crazy-stressful life.

MJ stands and dusts off the back of her shorts. “Thank you, Grayson, seriously. You really did save my ass,” she says with a sad smile.

“Of course,” he replies, standing with her.

She unplugs her phone and pulls up both maps before setting off down the trail with one last wave at the gorgeous, sweet man she’s so reluctantly leaving behind.

“MJ, wait!”

She stops in her tracks, black Nikes skidding in the loose, sandy dirt. Turning around in time to see Grayson dig his hands in the backpack to fish out a sweatshirt and flashlight, her heart lifts when he starts jogging toward her. Despite her elation, however, she looks up at him confusedly.

“I’ve actually been to this place a few times, so I’m pretty familiar with the trails and campgrounds. I would feel a lot better if I walked you to your tent. Not that you need a man to help you anywhere or…whatever, but yeah, only if you want —”

“Grayson,” she interrupts, touching a slim hand to his forearm. She smiles, endeared at how flustered he’s getting. He runs a hand through his hair again. Is this him wanting to spend more time with her, or him simply being a gentleman? “I really do appreciate it, but I’ve already kept you from setting up your own camp. I couldn't ask you to walk me all the way to BFE and risk you coming back alone in the dark.”

Grayson shakes his head. “I swear, it’s fine. I’ve got a flashlight.” He clicks it on and shines it under his chin, illuminating his head in typical campfire story-time style, and makes a face at her. MJ giggles. “And you can’t be too far from here; there are only two main campgrounds and they’re less than a mile apart from each other, so I should make it back before dark one way or the other.”

A shiver from the cold overtakes her body suddenly. “Oh, here,” he adds, extending the purple hoodie to her. She starts to protest, but he shakes his head and holds it at her more insistently. “I know you’re cold.”

MJ flushes, but takes the soft garment from him gratefully. “I never said I was cold,” she remarks as she shoves her arms in the sleeves and slips it over her head. It practically swallows her, but it smells just like the laundry/cologne scent she had picked up earlier, only more concentrated and delicious.

Grayson eyes her up and down slowly, grinning. “I’m observant,” he says teasingly.

MJ raises her brows at him amusedly. Again, she should be creeped out, but there’s something about him that sends all potential red flags out the window.

“And I might not be done sharing secrets with you,” he adds quietly, smiling the softest, sexiest smile she’s ever seen and utilizing the ultimate puppy-dog eyes. “Please?”

Well, twist my arm, MJ thinks sarcastically. “Okay,” she says without hesitation now, her insides jittering with a strange mixture of happiness and nerves. He beams at her and jerks his head in indication for them to continue down the trail.

“So, you never said what you’re doing out here by yourself,” Grayson prompts, nudging her with his elbow.

MJ shakes her head and smiles up at him. “Nuh-uh. Not only is that a sob story no one wants to hear, it’s definitely your turn to share. So I could ask you what you’re doing out here by yourself?”

Grayson shrugs as if to say ‘fair enough.’ “I’m not, actually. I’m with my brother and his girlfriend because she wanted to camp, but my brother doesn’t know shit about it. I only came under the agreement that there was going to be no funny business while I was around, only to come back from getting firewood to find them going at it, so I chose to remove myself from the situation. They’re still at our original campsite further down the trail. I needed to make sure I was far enough away to not hear anything.”

MJ sucks in a sympathetic breath through her teeth. “Ooh, yeah, there’s nothing worse than being the third wheel, especially when you have nowhere to escape.”

“Exactly!” he exclaims, turning to her with his hands raised. “Thank you! Ethan told me I was being dramatic, but it definitely sucks. He’s been with her long enough now, I think he’s forgotten what it’s like to be the lonesome outsider.”

This is the perfect segue for the question, but it gets stuck in her throat. Come on, MJ, grown woman, remember? She’s sure she already knows the answer based on what he had just said, but it never hurts to check.

“So…you don’t have a girlfriend?”

“Nope.” She glances up at him to find him staring straight ahead with that lopsided, boyish grin. He looks back down at her and reciprocates the question. “Do you have a boyfriend?”

“Nope.” MJ is mortified to hear it come out as a whisper. She clears her throat and diverts her gaze to the sunset. She had literally, quite literally, just met this man — he should not have this kind of effect on her.

Just then, her phone buzzes, and she’s infuriated to see the deleted number of her ex pop up on the screen. She groans in frustration. “But it’s not for my idiot ex’s lack of trying to get back together,” she complains, wiggling the phone and sending it straight to voicemail.

“I’m sorry,” Grayson says, shaking his head understandingly. “I’ve definitely been there. How long have you been broken up?”

MJ swipes the voicemail notification away and rolls her eyes. “Over two months. We weren't super serious and it wasn't a crazy bad breakup or anything, we were just in different places, and I’m not one to be in a relationship just for the sake of it. Especially if I’m not feeling any aspect of it. I didn't hear a word from him the first month or so, but he’s acting like we were soulmates who had some tragic ending, calling and texting me nonstop the last couple of weeks.”

Grayson shrugs. “Sounds like he’s just realizing what he missed out on,” he says, grinning. MJ’s breath catches in her throat and she rolls her eyes again embarrassedly with a smile, flushing pink yet again. “Why don’t you block him?”

She sighs. “I probably will. I don't like to burn bridges like that unless someone really does me wrong, but it’s getting ridiculous at this point.”

Grayson nods. “I’m not just saying this, but I feel the exact same way. And about what you said with being in a relationship just to be in one. Like…” he ruffles the back of his hair, something she now detects as a tell for when he's uncomfortable. “Ok, like, this sounds so ugly and conceited, but if I really wanted to be with someone, I could. Ethan and I do social media for a living and we have a decent following, so it’s not a lack of girls, but that’s not me. Maybe when I was a little younger, but…yeah, not now.”

Wow. What does that mean, a decent following? Her job requires her to know the ins and outs of the social media side of marketing, but she isn’t super invested in it for herself entertainment-wise. Mainly, she’s active on Snapchat with her friends and just occasionally uses Insta, so with the knowledge of the spectrum of social media followings, that could really be any number in her book. “So you’re, like, an Instagram model or something?”

He chuckles. “No, no. We make YouTube videos mostly. We’re identical twins so a lot of them are stupid things based on that — challenges and skits and stuff. It’s pretty chill. We’re starting to dabble in documentary-style projects, too.”

MJ gawks at him playfully, though she is actually surprised by his admission. “There are two of you?!” she gasps.

Grayson gapes back at her jokingly. “Technically, yes. He’s my absolute best friend in the entire world and, like I said, we’re identical, but half the time we really couldn’t be more opposite if we tried. I’ll show you our channel later, if you want, and you’ll see.”

“Hmm,” MJ hums, catching her lip with her teeth briefly. “Well I’m sure Ethan is great, but I’m glad I met you, then.”

He bumps her with his hip. “Are you saying you like me?”

MJ rolls her eyes good-naturedly at the teasing lilt to his voice and hopes that the light is low enough that he can’t see the seemingly permanent tint to her cheeks. “Since we’re sharing secrets…maybe. Yes.”

“I like you, too,” he replies, just as quietly. She picks up a barely-detectable lisp on the ’t’ and the East Coast lilt on the ‘oo.’ It’s adorable.

Her heart flutters.

They walk steadily a few more feet in silence, when suddenly she feels his hand brush hers gently. She assumes it was accidental until it happens again, only this time there’s more assertiveness in the movement, clearly indicating what he’s trying to do. Her heart jumps in her throat as she gladly lets his palm dwarf her own as he takes her hand in his. They happen to both glance at each other, only to duck their heads simultaneously, each attempting to hide giddy smiles.

“Ah, so, secrets,” MJ says to break the silence that’s thick with the best kind of tension. “How old are you?”

There’s a beat of silence. “Old enough…almost,” he answers cryptically, side-eyeing her.

His reply actually makes MJ stop in her tracks, and she’s jerked a bit by their joined hands as he continues moving. “What?” she asks incredulously.

Grayson laughs heartily and squeezes her palm, melting her insides a bit. He’s clearly pleased with himself at catching her so off-guard. “I’m kidding. I mean, I am legal, but people tend to think I’m older than I am.” He observes her standing there, waiting for his answer, and finally relents. “I’m 20.”

MJ shakes her head, stunned. “Shut the fuck up!” she exclaims. “Twenty?! Dude, yeah, no kidding people think you’re older. I definitely did.”

He tugs on her hand to keep her walking, and MJ obeys dutifully, still amazed at yet another shocking disclosure. “Is that an issue?”

She shrugs; she feels like it should be, but he doesn’t look or act 20 at all. But also…an issue for what? They literally just met. And she should only be thinking of being friends; she can be friends with a 20 year-old.

That thought doesn’t stop her from answering, though, because time factor aside, something is happening between them. Something more than friends, if she’s letting herself be honest. “I guess it’s only an issue if it affects maturity, but that doesn't seem to be a problem here that I can tell.”

Grayson squeezes her hand again, and a shot of sparks zings up her arm this time. “Good. Now, are you gonna make me ask, or are you gonna tell me how old you are?”

MJ groans. Twenty. She’s basically a dinosaur compared to that. “God, I don’t even want to say now. I’m 24,” she admits.

“What’s wrong with that?” Grayson asks with a chuckle.

“Because…” How do you explain to a young, hot 20 year-old man that every year that you creep closer to 25 only means one year closer to the downhill to 30? “I don’t know. Sometimes I feel old. And stuck. Especially lately. And you seem like this super young, super successful guy. It’s a little intimidating.”

Grayson is quiet for a moment. “If there’s anything I know, it’s not to judge your path based on other’s. If you’re feeling stuck, something will happen that gets you unstuck. Age has nothing to do with that.”

His answer catches MJ by surprise in its sincerity and maturity and thoughtfulness. Before she can form an answer, they pass what must be his brother’s tent. She has to hush her fit of laughter into her free hand when Grayson makes a disgusted little noise and flips off the dark red canvas that is, indeed, rustling suspiciously.

From there on they share anything and everything about each other, with each other. Against her word from earlier, she tells him about losing her job and her other woes from the week; he briefly opens up that he had lost his dad a little over a year ago and is still coping with it. This shocks her a bit, but his openness leads her to sympathize with him by sharing how her mom had passed away in a car accident when she was 15. By the time they reach the next campground, their fingers are completely intertwined and she’s leaning her head on his shoulder, his smell enveloping her completely from both his shirt sleeve and the collar of the hoodie. MJ has truly never felt more connected to a man on this level, and it’s both exciting and terrifying.

They aren’t even to her tent yet and she already doesn’t want him to go.

“Should be just around this corner,” Grayson says, squinting at her phone before concentrating on the trail again.

Sure enough, the next turn reveals her campsite, complete with the tent she had miraculously managed to construct herself and her cooler propped next to the same rock-bench that they had sat on at Grayson’s camp.

Her free hand clenches around his elbow. “Yep, here it is,” she says.

They stop and stand to face one another. “Thanks again, Grayson,” she tells him sincerely. “I didn't really know what the hell I was doing coming out here. In more ways than one, obviously.” This earns her a smile and — God, as if her heart could feel any more sappy in that moment — he brings their clasped hands to his lips to kiss the back of her palm. “But in the hour that I’ve known you I think you’ve helped me take my mind off things more than anyone else back home could have. So…thank you.”

“Of course, MJ,” he says quietly. “I could say the same. I rarely talk about my dad with anyone besides Ethan, let alone someone I just met.” Her heart warms at his confession, and a heated moment of quiet and intense eye contact passes between them before he breaks it. “Come on, I’ll help you start a fire.”

She nods, and they release their grasps on one another to gather sticks and dry brush at his suggestion.

“You know,” he says as he leans over the fire pit that’s now filled with their findings with her lighter, breaking the short silence, “I was going to spend the night alone since E was clearly pretty busy. I don't think he would miss me if I stayed for a bit. To keep telling secrets. If you want, that is.”

MJ swallows. What the hell is this night? She’s pretty sure sad, lost girls meeting and mutually falling for beautiful, polite, genuinely funny boys in the desert is something that only happens in the likes of cheesy Meg Cabot novels. Yet, here she is, living out her nerdy 16 year-old fantasies in real life somehow.

“Yes. I want you,” she murmurs finally, and though she doesn’t mean for it to come out as a bit of an entendre, she doesn’t regret her wording; even in the low light of the late sunset, she can see his eyes darken. “Won’t he notice eventually, though, if you stay gone for very long? And it’s getting dark…”

“If I can borrow your phone, I can text him,” he explains. “I don't have any service but you do somehow. I guarantee he’ll use the wifi in our car to check his phone before he goes to bed, so he’ll get it eventually.”

She nods and unlocks her phone for him. “How do you have service out here, actually?” he asks as he types out a new message.

“My brother,” she answers, entranced by the way his thick fingers fly across the keyboard of her phone. “Being a firefighter, he gets to be on this plan for first responders where he gets first access to a bigger network in case he’s in the middle of nowhere on a call or in a crowd during an emergency or something. I was able to sign on with his account and get all the benefits of it.”

Grayson looks up at her, surprised, and smirks when he hands her phone back to her. “Wow, a firefighter? So he could probably kick my ass if he wanted, huh?”

MJ laughs. “Normally I would say yes, but somehow I think you've got a solid 20 pounds of muscle on him, even though he's a little taller than you,” she admits.

She finally can’t resist anymore and runs her right hand over a bicep that is truly bulging right beneath the edge of his shirt sleeve, and allows herself to take in unabashedly the way the fabric stretches across his wide shoulders, his defined pecs…fuck, he’s sexy.

He swallows hard and she looks up at him. For the second time that night, the intensity of his gaze stuns her into silence and stillness.

When he ducks his head to meet her lips with his, however, her insides are screaming and the hand not clutching his arm travels to grip the front of his shirt, then the short hairs at the back of his neck.

More cliches, but it’s a perfect first kiss — soft but intense, not too much tongue but just enough as it deepens. MJ sighs into his mouth, deciding she would be perfectly content to do this with him forever despite the fire now lit within her at his touch that has her body begging for more.

It could have been a few seconds or a few hours that they stand there entwined with one another, but eventually they part, eyes closed and breaths panting heavily in the minimal space between them. The longer she isn’t distracted by his lips, the longer she stands there trying not to overthink things.

But the beauty of what this trip has been — what Grayson has been — for her is that it was the opposite of overthinking; it was instinctual, impulsive, and honest. In short, her motto had been ‘fuck it.’

Her green eyes open and lift to his hazel ones. “Grayson,” she whispers, “we’re telling secrets tonight, right?”

“Right,” he replies just as breathlessly.

She swallows past a small lump as an inexplicable rush of emotion hits her.

Fuck it.

MJ’s hands cup his angular jaw and she forces herself to keep eye contact with him. She takes a deep breath. “Look, I’m not into drama and feelings and fairytale shit. But I like you. I really like you, way more than I should considering we’re basically strangers, which fucking scares me. And even though I barely know you, I trust you for some reason. I just…need you to tell me if you feel kind of the same, or if this is starting to feel like too much now that I’m putting my thoughts out there. Because my gut is telling me this is mutual, but we can both walk away now and write it off as a crazy, whirlwind thing in the desert. I go in my tent, you go in yours, and we never see each other again.”

Her words come out in a rush, her last sentence almost painfully so. She also suddenly considers the idea that maybe he’s only using her as a fun story to tell his friends about, the pretty girl he met in the desert, wooed by his charm and good looks into her tent, only to be ghosted by him the next day.

Maybe the uncertainty in her life is leading her to be too impulsive with her wants and desires right now.

Maybe she’s starting to overthink things.

Grayson catches his lower lip with his teeth and mimics the position of her hands with his own. His thumbs brush the ridges of her mandible and his long fingers overlap at the back of her neck, scratching lightly. Despite herself, she could have purred at the sensation, almost does when it’s combined with that of his lips brushing hers tenderly.

“MJ,” he says lowly, resting his forehead against hers. “I’m not a fuckboy, I promise; like I said earlier, if all I wanted was a warm body beside me, I could have that in a second. What’s so hard for me is to find someone who's not after clout or money or anything that comes along with being in the social media space. Almost every girl I’ve talked to in the last couple of years has been attracted to one of those aspects of my life, not me. Once I find that out, no matter what they look like, I’m never interested in being in the same room as them, let alone in a relationship with them. I can tell you don't give a shit about any of that, and I love it. I love how funny, genuine, and kind you are. I love how naturally, absolutely gorgeous you are. That’s what I look for, that’s all I go for, and you’re all of it.”

Holy fuck, how is this guy real? It’s like he could read her mind. Her thumb tugs on his lower lip and he takes that as his cue to kiss her thoroughly again.

“Promise me now, then,” she huffs when they break apart, “no matter what happens tonight, we try to stay friends, at least, tomorrow.”

“Deal,” he agrees with a grin.

MJ bites her lip and smirks up at him. “How about we, uh, keep sharing secrets in my tent?”

Grayson raises his brow, his smile widening. “It is getting a little chilly out here.”

#this might have originally been written w smut #but i wasn't sure if i wanted it to be official #should i post it as like a continuation?#hmm #dolan twins #grayson dolan #grayson dolan smut #grayson dolan fic #grayson dolan oc #grayson mj

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doof-doofblog · 4 years

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"You Have Lost Everything!"

Monday 2nd November 2020

Hello again everyone! Hope you're all having a good week, regardless of the new lockdown! It's been a bit of manic week for me as I don't know whether I'm coming or going with my own personal issues, but thankfully everything seems to be a bit more clearer now. Anyhow, let's jump right into Monday's episode. The previous episode ended on such a big cliff-hanger, I'm looking forward to seeing what this episode has in store.

From what I can tell, the episode starts the day after the events of the poker game. Martin and Ruby are discussing what happened. Does Martin perhaps feel guilty? He probably shouldn't have left his friend while he was so vulnerable and weak. But I love the fact that something doesn't fit right with Martin, he thinks that Suki must've known about Kush's gambling problem, otherwise she never would've toyed with him the way she did. Ruby plays dumb and and mentions that Suki only got lucky and that Kush should've been more careful. To me, it's like they're on two different sides, Ruby is wanting to ruin the Slaters, while Martin is just wanting peace, but something tells me Martin is going to flip when he finds out his wife is behind it, possibly causing his children to be homeless.

Meanwhile, at the Slaters - everyone appears to be gathering their things together in attempt to come up with some money. They're trying to sell their belongings to be able to afford a deposit for another place to live. Kush tries to console them telling them he's going to try and sort it. But Kat, Stacey and Jean don't have much hope. Kat declares that Kush is a gambling addict, to which he is still in denial. I do fear for the Slaters, I'd hate to see them down on their luck. Kush promises to try and fix his terrible mistake as Kat receives a phone call about another cleaning job, it may be rubbish but it seems they have no choice. They need all the money they can get right now.

At Jack's, Denise has come round to collect the rest of her things only to discover that Jack has already gathered her things in a box for her. They have a little quick discussion and Jack applauds Denise for taking Raymond in and states that he's lucky to have her. Even though they have sadly decided to go their separate ways, you can see they still care deeply for each other. Jack asks whether Phil has kept or word and whether she has heard from Ellie, Denise confirms that Ellie has simply disappeared. Phil has kept to his word for the time being so it would seem, but how long will it be until that changes?! Suddenly, Isaac calls Denise - we can heard crying in the back ground and Isaac is calling for Denise for help as Raymond is crying. It's going to take a long time for young Raymond to settle, but hopefully in time he'll start to enjoy his new family home.

On the Square, Honey is getting herself ready to meet with the police officer who is supporting her after her horrific ordeal. Jay approaches her and she asks whether they'll be to meet in the park later on, Honey doesn't feel quite ready to tell Billy what has happened, she certainly doesn't want the children finding out. As Jay and Honey agree to meet each other later on, Honey leaves to go and see the police officer, only as she leaves Billy approaches Jay and starts asking questions on who Honey is seeing. He states the fact that by the look of what the lady is wearing, it could either be an estate agent or police. He asks Jay what's going on but Jay is reluctant to say anything. But as Billy turns to ask Honey herself, Jay stops him in his tracks and instructs him to get inside, how is he going to find the words to explain what's happened to Honey?!

In the Cafe, Kheerat has joined his Mum, she appears to be gloating after her big win the previous night. As Kush walks in, he sheepishly approaches the Panesar's and asks whether they can have a quick word. Suki, at first, doesn't seem interested. She states that a bet is a bet, but Kush tries to plead to her and explains if it was just him, he would've moved out by the weekend, but there are children involved here, she needs to take them into consideration also. She agrees to hear him out and makes a slight dig if he's ready for another poker game, even though he's got nothing left to gamble. Kush begs her to give him a few more days just to scrape some money together, but Suki points out he can barely afford to pay the current month's rent. She even think's she's doing him a favour - Erm, how?! - Kush sees that his pleas are going on deaf ears, as he walks out slowly, Kheerat compliments his Mother on how clever she is. He makes an interesting statement, she has never won a poker game in her life and somehow she's managed to swindle Kush into losing their house. Can Kheerat smell a rat? I really don't think it's going to be long until Kheerat stands up to his Mum. He appears to be the only decent one out of the family and you can see he doesn't agree to the decisions his Mum has made - Jags, the Slaters, who is going to be her next victim and what is it going to take for him to finally break?!

Haha! Sorry but I have to mention Rainie and Stuart again, out of all of this doom and gloom happening with multiple families at the minute, it's just nice to see Rainie and Stuart enjoying married life. It's just that little bit of comedy that we need. Rainie's emotions are all over the place, considering she's pregnant. I just loved her outburst about the make-up artist using her lippy on a corpse. Of course, Stuart is trying his absolute best to support his wife, but it looks like she's driving him round the bend with her mood swings. I personally think they make a brilliant couple, they bounce off each other really well. What do you guys think? What is you opinion of Stuart and Rainie being together?

At the park, Honey is waiting patiently for Jay, she looks up and notices Jay is approaching with Billy following along behind. She greets him politely, making very little small talk as it's clear she doesn't want him knowing anything. But as Billy begins to speak and apologises to her, she realises that Jay has told him everything. When Billy asks what the police have said, she confirms that Paul had been arrested and she's waiting on hearing the results to confirm whether she has been sexually assaulted or not. She also informed them that the police had found the video on his phone of her lying in the alleyway. Billy is horrified to learn what Paul has done, he can't seem to keep his rage to himself and announces he's going to kill him, but Honey stops him in his tracks and claims that his reaction is the reason why she didn't want him knowing, because she knew he'd respond in that way. She points to Jay and mentions the fact that Jay is half his age and has been brilliant towards her, shown her every bit of support he can. As Billy walks away, Jay confides in Honey that he was trying to the right thing, he felt if he told Billy, it would give Honey that extra bit of support, but Honey explains that Billy does mean well, but he will never change his ways. Is anyone else sensing there could be a bit of romance on the cards for Jay and Honey? They're spending a lot of time together recently, I mean, of course Jay is trying to be there for Honey during her horrific ordeal, but could something grow between the pair and could they potentially end up falling for one another?!

Ooooh the next scene grabbed my attention straight away. It seems really interesting. Jean is on the Square, announcing to her neighbours what has happen to her family in recent events. Informing them that Suki is making them homeless, throwing them out on the street within a week. It looks as if she either pleading for help or she's trying to get the community on her side. She tries to explain to her friends and neighbours that the Panesar's are all out to get them, But before she can make anymore statements, Suki stops her in the path. Informing everyone that it was Kush who betted their house away, to which Jean responds (the truth) the she played him! Ooooo I do hope it'll all come out, everyone will see how dirty Suki is! Kheerat will disown his Mother, Martin will blame Ruby for causing his children to go homeless. Ooooh it's all going to kick off I can see it coming!! It may take a bit of time for it to come to light, and honestly I can't wait to see the reaction of people when it does! Meanwhile, as Jean is out on the Square with her neighbours, Martin decides to visit Kush at home. At first, Kush doesn't want to hear what he's got to say, as he's had an earful from everyone else. But Martin is just being the best friend he can be and has simply just come round to see how he was doing. Something tells me that he kind of blames himself as he was the one who introduced Kush to poker, but Kush reassures him that he is not to blame. Kush explains that before poker he used the gyms to get away and get rid of all the anger and kind of give himself some breathing space, some head space, but since the lockdown and the gyms being closed, he's felt lost and it turns out her turned to poker to relive that feeling of getting away from everything. Kush explains to his friend that he will sort things out, he considers even giving his Mum a call, but Martin says that he will be able to help him, but the first thing Kush needs to do is to admit that he's an addict, as that would be the first step to take control of the situation.

Out on the Square, Jack has delivered Denise's things to her, as she thanks him for dropping it off, Jack informs her that he's done a bit of research on Ellie during recent events and he tells her that 4 of her properties were raided, and it just so happens that Phil managed to get Raymond away on the same day. Jack seems think there is a coincidence, but Denise doesn't want to know anymore. As far as she's concerned, her son is home where his belongs and he's safe. It's understandable why Jack is trying to look out for her, I get that he's concerned about Phil, but Phil does still have a right to see his son, he is Raymond's Dad after all and I don't believe he would ever put Raymond in danger. Phil may have a bit of a reputation as being a hard man, but the one thing he would never let come to harm is his family, and I think that should be something that both Denise and Jack need to remember.

Am I right in thinking that in the next scene, Honey confirms to Jay that there was no sign of any sexual assault?! Maybe Jay chased Paul off before he could go through with his vile attack, which means Jay pretty much saved Honey. Honey discusses how Billy must be in the pub right now, downing his third pint in a way of dealing with the news he's been given. Jay informs her not to worry about Billy, she needs to focus on herself and try and get better. He politely says goodbye to her before leaving for work, BUT just around the corner, we see a very shaky hand holding a brick. Oh no, Billy! He's hiding behind a wall as he watches Paul leave his house - so it looks as if he's been let out on bail - Billy watches as he walks away and slowly begins to follow him with the brick in the hand, but before he can do any damage, Jay rushes to stop him. Jay tells him this is not the way to be helping Honey. I do feel sorry for Billy during this conversation, for him, it's like the past is repeating itself. He explains to Jay that the same thing happened to Little Mo after they got married, fans will remember that during one particular episode, Little Mo was left alone in the Queen Vic cleaning up and someone broke in and sexually assaulted her, all that could be heard were screams coming from the hall. He admits to Jay that he couldn't support Little Mo through her ordeal and he fears he won't be able to do the same for Honey, so instead he decides he needs to act as the man he should be. But Jay reassures him that beating the guy up won't make up for what happened to Little Mo, and it won't make up what's happened to Honey. It seems that Jay's words hit home and Billy eventually drops the brick.

Back with the comedy duo, Stuart and Rainie. After Rainie lashing out on their beautician, Stuart has been left to do the make-up for the deceased. I think it's brilliant how he walks in covered in make-up, and even stating that the body he was working on was smiling at him every time he walked around the room, which clearly made him feel uneasy. As they're discussing advertising for a beautician, Tiffany is informing Keegan (two characters we haven't seen for a long time!) that she's trying to find a job to save up to pay for Keegan owning his own sandwich stall on the market. It looks as if Rainie overhears their conversation and asks Tiffany whether she does make-up, it's then that Tiffany confirms she's almost a qualified beautician. Something tells me that Rainie is going to offer the job to Tiffany, BUT will Tiffany accept? For some reason, I can't see Tiffany working in an undertakers, but who knows? If she's desperate for the money, she might grab the opportunity with both hands! Meanwhile, Martin finds Ruby in Walford East and confides in her that he feels he's to blame for Kush's gambling addiction. He informs her that Kush is convinced that someone set him up, to which Ruby once again, plays dumb. She tries to console her husband and tells him that he's trying to be the good friend, which Kush really deserves right now. Oh and isn't it a coincidence that while they're having this conversation, Suki just happens to be walking around the restaurant. Martin clocks to her presence and as she walks past him, he makes the very snide remark that if she actually did play him, then she is just disgusting! It looks as if those words hit Ruby hard, is she seeing that this is also hurting her husband as much as it is hurting the Slater family?! Could she be feeling some form of guilt? Will it end up eating her up and will she come clean to her husband?!

At the Panesar's office, Stacey is cleaning out her desk and belongings. As she mentions to Kheerat that she'll leaving as she'll probably have no where to live in the next couple of days, she disrespects his Mum right in front of him. But Stacey can see right through Kheerat, she knows he doesn't approve of his Mum's actions and she tells him to tell that he doesn't agree. Suddenly Suki walks through the door and Stacey makes herself scarce. Kheerat tries to persuade his Mum to let the Slater's stay, he noticed that the shop was quiet all afternoon. If her actions to what she's done to the Slater's start to make an affect on the community, no one will want nothing from them and they will struggle with their businesses. Kheerat tells her that if all goes to pot she'll have to start working for him. Suki then possibly realises that her son has a point and changes her mind and announces that the Slaters can stay, under one condition, their rent goes up! So once again, they're playing to her tune again! How many times has she put the rent up for the Slater's alone? Two, three times? She assures her son that she always gets what she wants, one way or another! Ooooo I do hope that one day Suki will get her comeuppance, whether it be from the Square or from her own children.

Back at the club, Jack looks like he's called a meeting with Callum. Callum asks whether he wants information on Phil then he really isn't interested. But something doesn't sit right with Jack, he brings up the topic about Ellie's properties being raided and stating the fact it was the day that Phil got Raymond back. Callum comes up with the excuse that he heard something being mentioned in a night club and tries to explain that he no idea that the property was Ellie's! I kind of feel like Callum is keeping his word to the Mitchell's. Now he's been made one of the family, he can't turn his back on them because it would mean turning his back on Ben also. Jack informs Callum that even though Denise is struggling with Raymond, she is trying her absolute best to support the young boy. He warns him that if he does anything to ruin it for her, then there will be hell to pay!

The last scene of this episode, Kush is seen sat alone in the house, we see him react as he heard the front door opening and closing. It looks as if he's hoping it'll be Kat, but Stacey appears and informs him that she's gone out for a drink with some unknown security guard. Kush looks absolutely devastated and distraught. It's becoming clear to him that he has made things incredibly worse, not just for his family but for his relationship with Kat also. As Stacey yells at him, he puts his hands to his ears, trying to block it all out until the issue becomes louder and louder and he yells at the top of his voice "I'm an addict!" - He finally admits it, even though the truth is most likely ripping him apart inside. Stacey only wishes he could've admitted it earlier, she tells him that Alfie lied to Kat repeatedly and he was supposed to be the good one. But now he's not just lost the house, he has lost everything!

How in the world is Kush going to be able to fix things? How is he going to be able to make it up to Kat and the rest of the family? I just want to thank you guys for reading, I'll be back very soon with another post! Enjoy the rest of your day folks! Please feel free to message me on your thoughts and opinions on what's currently happening in the soap, I'd love to hear from you! Love you all xXx

#eastenders #kushkazemi #staceyslater #jeanslater #katslater #martinfowler #rubyallen #suki panesar #kheerat panesar #honeymitchell #jaybrown #billymitchell #denisefox #jackbranning #stuarthighway #rainiecross #callumhighway #tiffanybutcher #keeganbaker

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letterstothemidnightsociety · 4 years

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Here we are at the end of October, in the Year of Our Troubles, 2020. And here I am, continuing my journey to avoid reality by looking for meaning in nostalgia and TV Hunks. It’s Supernatural!

Alright so we’ve made it to my (possibly/probably) all time favorite quartet of the entire series - Disc 3, Season 1, episodes 9 - 12. For the last few discs, I’ve been keeping things pretty technical in terms of television production and broadcast. But frankly, this sh*t is my jam. All that gooey emotion, all that sweet sweet lore, throw in some man tears and *chef kissy fingers* c'est magnifique!

Now I’ll backtrack for a hot second here to talk about the filler vs. self-contained argument that I...probably jumbled in my last post. In shows like this, I tend to use “filler” to describe every episode that isn’t arc, but honestly, that’s not fair to a number of Supernatural episodes. The main difference being, is this episode meant to pad out your season or is it simply an episode that can stand on its own two feet? I’d say that’s the case for this entire disc.

First up, it’s Home. Guys, I think I cheered when I turned this episode on. We take our Winchesters, give them some small victories, build up their confidence, and then totally break them down again by sending them back to the beginning. This is not listed as the “official” return to the arc episodes, but I’d argue that Home is where we see a return to the Main Quest. Oh yeah, and Sam finally admits that he can see...what? What do we call these? Death Omens? I think Sam calls them premonitions? Either way, it’s…*shrugs* sure, do what you want. The premonitions do become important later and they’re basically the catalyst for the whole second season and that resolution takes us into the main conflict for the third season, and so on and so on, it’s a whole thing. It just seems like a hecking lot this go around, ok? But he finally admits it to Dean and that’s probably some kind of growth. Dean going back into that house again is also some kind of growth. Of course, he was like, 4 when he swore he’d never go back to that house again? Whatever, I didn’t care. I get too distracted by the fact that DEAN IS CRYING GUYS! LOOK! HE’S CRYING!!

Oh, and one more tie to the season arc - Hecking John Winchester shows up. I mean, he’s all over the episode and I think the most shocking thing we find out about him is that he was, at one point, a business owner?? But also it ends with conclusive proof that John Winchester is a massive dick who refuses to talk to his children. And I’m sorry, I don’t buy your “have to finish it first” excuse, I just don’t. To be clear, I’m not mad at the storytelling choice to do that, I’m mad at the character, which I guess is where it should be.

I like that this episode builds out more of the world that the Winchesters live in with Missouri Mosely (Not the State!). I like that we see they’re not alone in this very literal fight against evil. She checks back in later in the series and honestly, I love Loretta Devine so I would have watched a whole spinoff show about this character.

Two things I don’t like about this episode? #1 What genius decided that Mary’s ghost would just be on fire for 20 years? Like, cuz that’s what I am understanding about this ghost. That she is just constantly on fire. And that’s...unkind.

Mary, who did this to you??

#2 Only a man could have written this episode because no single mom is just gonna LET two rando dudes into her home.

Listen boys, you’re cute, but I’m a woman with two small children. Hell no you’re not coming into my house.

Next up is Asylum and this is so good at walking the line between creepy and Spooky. UNlike the Bloody Mary episode, I do not need to hide my face from the screen at any point during this episode.

Hey look, it’s like they’re brothers or something!

This one is another episode that does a good job building character and the world the Winchesters live in. Like any good procedural, it uses the main conflict to bring out the more important conflict. In this case, it literally brings it out, cuz the ghost is a psychiatrist who makes Same confront all his Daddy Issues. And by confront we mean, take it out on his brother who is the saddest-motherf*cker-I’ve-ever-seen BUT HEY! Salting and burning a body finally works for once in their lives! I love all the cringing that Jensen Ackles does in that scene because they clearly hadn’t figured out what that effect was supposed to look like yet.

It must have been a real surprise to find out the ghost didn’t light on fire.

Oh and then there’s the phone call! And man, this must have been a bitch of a mid-season finale, cuz this episode aired in November of 2005 and the next episode doesn’t come back until January of 2006 and so you’re just WAITING to hear what John has to say.

Now wait for two months to find out what he says.

And of course, it’s nothing. We come back in January to Scarecrow and John has nothing to say cuz he’s a massive dick. Just calling 6 months in to your nationwide search for me to let you know that I’m not dead, but also, I’m only here to send you on another assignment and cause tension. And so the show continues to break down our dynamic duo because the fight they have over whether they should listen to dad or not literally splits them apart. They also introduce Meg as a new and more involved villain for the series. I mean, sort of. We don’t see her again for like, another five episodes. And then again another five episodes after that. So like, I don’t really...know that introducing her as an antagonist...really had the effect they were hoping for?

Is she evil cuz she’s a demon or just because she’s blonde???

Here’s some issues I have with Meg, the first recurring female character who isn’t dead - she’s the first recurring female character who isn’t dead and also, I immediately hated her. I remember watching the episode the first time and as soon as I saw her I was like, oh she’s a ruiner. It was almost a relief to find out she was a bad guy at the end because it was like I was allowed to hate her? To be fair to me, Meg comes on hella strong trying to keep Sam from going back to his brother, so we’re not supposed to like her, but looking back on it now I feel like the perpetrator of some real girl-on-girl crime. Does Meg actually do anything wrong? Aside from leaning real hard on some indie-style manic-pixie bohemian free spirit nonsense, she doesn’t do...anything that should make me hate her? Until, of course, she actively acts as a wedge between our dream team, but before then, I don’t...think she does? Honestly, it could just be me, but I do think that TV has gotten much better at writing/directing/presenting female characters in a way that doesn’t feel like they’re literally shoe-horning in a third wheel. And again, ultimately we are supposed to hate her, I just can’t decide if I was picking up on signals that were intentional or not. I remember having similar feelings when they introduced Joe in season 2, but that’s still far ahead.

I am willing to admit that this might be just me. I will not take back the things I’ve said about Emma Watson though, those are justified.

And I think introducing more characters is important. It acts the same way introducing Missouri did -it broadens the world. For half a season, our only constants are the brothers. They’re these lone cowboys in a weird, mystical, dangerous wasteland and the villains are more obstacles than actual villains. When the story you’re telling needs to feel bigger than that, you need to do some world building and sometimes that starts with adding more characters. I will say, I hated Meg less this watch than I did on the first one. Or rather, I hated her cuz I knew she was The Worst, not because I felt like adding her to the show was a threat to the storytelling.

OH! ALSO! The first mention of Dean and Pie! My heart grew three sizes that day!

The hecking diner won’t serve him so he never finds out!!!

And finally, to cap it all off, we have Faith which is...a surprisingly rough episode? Ok, listen, Dean just resignedly accepting his own demise is like, ugh. UGH. ugh. Buddy. Buddy you are NOT Ok. Like, Dean is so intent on keeping everyone else in his family alive but does not seem as concerned about his own health and well-being and that...just...ughghghghg...I have a lot of feelings about that.

Listen, some day I will talk about Sam, but it is NOT THIS DAY.

Like, I get that Rev. Jerry Gergich Roy Le Grange is not actually healing people, but he literally tells Dean that Dean has a purpose and he was saved from an untimely death for a reason, and he’s kind of not wrong? But then he spends the rest of the episode stopping Roy from healing anyone else and feeling overwhelmingly guilty that he was saved over someone else. I think out of everything that season 1 has presented up to this episode, this is the most philosophical and thematically complex. There’s the question of faith vs skepticism - can we ever just blindly believe in a good turn? The fact that Dean can’t says a lot about him as a human. Then there’s the question of who gets to decide who lives and who dies? Who’s worthy of salvation and who isn’t? Why do bad things happen to good people and why do good things happen to Dean? I mean, when Dean sees the Reaper coming for him at the end, he knows that it’s in exchange for Layla’s life and he’s just...Ok with that? He doesn’t try to run or fight it, and it’s only because of Sam that he doesn’t bite it. And the end of this episode is just a real bitch slap to the feels because Layla, our Very Special Extra, knows she’s going to die and she knows she missed out on her chance to be healed because Dean was an Ass with a capital A and took her turn (probably). And she’s also just ok with that and it kills me a little bit on the inside.

Also, Layla is played by Julie Benze from Roswell and Buffy and Dexter and she’s always A+. And Roy was in Snakes on a Plane!

So yeah, not exactly “filler” in the true sense, but ties to the season arc are not as strong as in other episodes. And watching these episodes again I realize just how important they are to the series as a whole. I mentioned Helstrom last week and since then, I’ve finished the season. It’s only 10 episodes, and while I definitely enjoyed it, none of the emotional climaxes felt earned.

Is how I feel. About the Emotions in Helstrom. That doesn’t mean I won’t watch a season 2.

When you focus solely on the main arc in every single episode, you miss these little moments to develop character and relationships. When you get to the end of the season where the Winchesters are finally all in the same room taking on the Big Bad, there’s this feeling of satisfaction - you’ve been waiting for this moment. You’ve been waiting for Sam to reconcile with his father. You’ve been waiting for the guys to finally take on this thing that killed Mary Winchester. You’ve been waiting to see what will happen when the quest is over. That’s what makes the character decisions in the finale feel so big and so important, because they’ve been built up and built up for 22 episodes - 7 months in broadcast time. I think it’s harder to have the sort of weight that Supernatural builds in a show that stays so focused on the arc because its season is only 8 - 10 eps. There’s no room for sidetracking to build on the relationships in the show. You don’t have time for it, so you either have to keep character moments smaller (I’d argue MUCH smaller) or you end up with a finale that doesn’t resonate with the same gravitas as you want it to.

Don’t get me wrong - I know it sounds like I’m ragging on short seasons, but I think a short season can be very effective when it’s done right. I also think a full season of 22 - 24 episodes can be very effective when it’s done right. But I think there’s a fundamental difference in how you tell the story when you have a short vs. a long season. I think TV is still figuring that out as it goes, as writers who are accustomed to long seasons shift gears to tell their stories with fewer installments. But I hope that TV doesn’t completely do away with the more procedural-style/self-contained episodes since those can be a powerful way to connect with your characters. That’s why I’m here in the first place.

#Supernatural #Supernatural Season 1 #supernatural rewatch #Sam Winchester #Dean Winchester #Sam and Dean #Home #Faith #Scarecrow #Asylum #Jared Padalecki #Jensen Ackles #CW #Meg

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rowanfoster · 4 years

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{ odeya rush ♔ twenty-three ♔ she/her } well, well, well if it isn’t rowan foster running around peach hollow. legend has it, she comes from tangerine towers and has lived here her entire life. if you’re wondering what she’s been up to, i hear she’s a make up artist / freelance musician for a living. she has been known to be impulsive yet insightful. a word of advice to her, always look over your shoulder. you never know who is watching.

why yes, it is i, admin kim, with another character that should’ve been kept in the drafts of my mind. if you’ve not met daysia or serenity, here’s a lil low down on me. i’m 26, i use she/her pronouns, and live on the east coast. i thrive on writing angst and my animal crossing villagers being happy. also caffeine. i luv chris klemens. most likely to have a mental breakdown on twitter. meet rowan! trigger warnings for mental illness, bipolar disorder specifically, and inpatient treatment

have a playlist and a pinterest board dedicated to her

rowan celeste foster was born may 27th, 1996. she’s the oldest of two, a baby sister coming to the scene in 1999.

her family is extremely close. they’ve been in peach hollow their whole lives. she grew up in a crowded house on blueberry boulevard, crammed in with her mother, father, sister, maternal grandmother and maternal grandfather. rowan never knew peace or privacy growing up – it just wasn’t possible with that many people which has really contributed to her somewhat isolated adulthood

her mother is a charge nurse at peach hollow general, working on the emergency room floor. her father is a retired car salesman. her grandparents moved into the house when her sister was born in order to help take care of the girls while their parents worked full time. rowan is especially grateful for their care, because she feels like she’d be a little more sour had she been raised by absent parents.

growing up, she shared a room with her younger sister. they told each other everything because they had no choice not to. they both developed an interest in make up and music at very young ages, but rowan particularly took to those things while maci took more interest in sports. when rowan was gifted her first ukulele at age 6, maci got her first basketball. they are polar opposites, but maci was the only person rowan really confided in as a child and an adolescent.

she’d always been rather moody. tantrums and fits were nearly unavoidable. her self esteem lacked before she even had a chance to develop any confidence. she was always the try hard, the girl who stood out because she was just a little different, the emotional one, the one the other kids didn’t want to mess with, not because she’d fight back, but because she would absolutely lose it. there were countless times where rowan ended up in the guidance counselor’s office, waiting on her grandmother to show up and bring her home. that was the beginning of their problems.

her mental health really started to decline in her mid teenage years. she spent hours upon hours in her room, writing songs, playing guitar, practicing make up looks – she’d go days without sleeping and snap at anyone who crossed her path. she got into screaming matches with everyone in the house, only to find herself crying in her bed for the next few days. she started missing days at a time from school, while her artistry thrive, the rest of her crumbled. her grades, all of it.

eventually, this resulted in her parents yanking her out of peach hollow high and putting her in counseling, which lead her to a psychiatrist and a diagnosis of bipolar disorder at the age of 17. while it made sense, she dreaded taking the medications. they numbed everything. her writing suffered, and while her moods weren’t swinging from the trees anymore, she feared that this empty feeling was worse.

she finished her high school diploma in homeschooling with her grandmother while maci went on to thrive in school. the attention shifted to her, and rowan couldn’t really blame them. she turned 18 and started performing in clubs, bars, and anywhere she could get in. ps her voice is a mix of bishop briggs & mary lambert. the thrill of performing to small crowds sucked her in. she began to gain an even smaller following on social media, mainly the locals following her. every once in a while she’ll book a show in atlanta and she’ll make the long drive just to sing in front of a bit of a larger crowd. she’ll gain a few followers from those shows, but this still isn’t her main source of income.

most of her money comes from the make up artistry she does through pop of peach. she doesn’t go in every day, but when someone has an event scheduled or needs their make up done for a dance or something, she’s there. she tries to spread things out bc she’s always late lmao and finds it hard to stick to a schedule

she was doing so well for a few years, even moved out of her parents’ house and into an apartment at the towers. that’s where she really found herself, made some real friends and built relationships that were good for her. however, she missed a few doctor’s appointments and was discharged from her psychiatrist’s office. she went off meds, and for a few weeks it was fine. when she ran out of meds, the next few weeks were okay as well. it was when every single drop of medication had drained from her body that things got bad.

rowan was missing appointments she scheduled at pop of peach. she was spending far too much time out at nights, giving in to alcohol for the most part. she tried not to touch any drugs, but drinking became a nightly thing. she’d perform, then spend the rest of the night partying with whoever she could find at the venue.

one night in atlanta after a particularly shaky performance, rowan found herself in a dark place and simply went into the women’s bathroom to calm down, but police say they found her laying flat on the ground, refusing to respond to anyone. she vaguely remembers the end of the manic episode, but it did land her in the emergency room for a change in mental status.

much to her chagrin, they admitted her overnight before transporting her to skyland trail, a mental health facility in atlanta. she spend about two and a half months there getting medications regulated and learning new coping mechanisms. she was discharged about two weeks ago and finally made it back to peach hollow and her apartment.

she’d lead everyone other than her family and maybe one or two other people that she was away on a musician’s retreat, but really, was in inpatient treatment.

she’s currently working full time as a make up artist at pop of peach and performing when she can, but doesn’t really go outside of peach hollow

fun facts & personality

rowan despises small talk. conversations about the weather or political climate don’t stimulate her and she gets snarky pretty easily. it isn’t that she wants to come off rude or unapproachable, but nine times out of ten, small talk is fake and she feels as though she doesn’t have the time or energy to indulge in it. ask her about the sky or some shit. she won’t shut up

she has a tendency to overshare, aside from what’s been going on in the past few months. her lips are sealed tight about that. however, she’s open to talking about her mental health and is a big advocate for erasing the stigma. this makes rowan a very good listener and a huge supportive presence for anyone struggling. she’s the mom friend, and no matter what time of day or night, if someone says they need an ear, she’ll go to them. she knows what it’s like to be alone.

despite her past and her demons, rowan finds a way to put on a smile. it might often be snarky or sarcastic, but rarely is it insincere. she’s an empath and feels everything so very deeply, but can easily put it away when necessarily.

her apartment is her safe haven. she rarely has company. it isn’t really her thing. she prefers to go to other people’s places. she has her record collection proudly displayed on her living room wall, all the plants you can imagine, incense burning whenever she’s home, and a scottish fold munchkin cat named loonette after her favorite childhood tv show, the big comfy couch. she has hopes to get another cat named molly to match. you know, because we’re all clowns !

she takes great pride in her instagram. it sounds superficial, but often times, rowan will post a good picture and then link to her next show in hopes that somebody will come based on that. while she does have a passion for make up and a second instagram for it, ultimately, she’d like for there to come a time where she can live solely on the money she makes through music

catch her driving her old ass ford focus blaring 00s alternative, mainly fuckin paramore bc she’s heart eyes for hayley williams

wanted connections if ya made it this far!!!!

childhood friends – those who she’s known since elementary school. they’ve most likely watched her go through her many trials and tribulations in class. these could be acquaintances, close friends, or even a ride or die or two.

bullies – people who fucked with her through school. it’s essential that they’re on bad terms currently, but perhaps an enemy turned friend or romantic could be fun??

group therapy pal – this would be super fun and might entail the person finding out about her secret…. msg me for deets

exes – there will be a couple of these, gender does not matter. i’d like to find one that she was dating when she went into treatment and maybe hasn’t seen/spoken to them since they’ve been back, first love, high school sweetheart?? omg possibilities are endless

flirtationship – self explanatory, gender doesn’t matter she’s pan

any other ideas literally lmk!! thanks for reading ♥

#ok.... one more time kngrdjsnh

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simplyshelbs16xoxo · 4 years

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‘The Adventure of Philip Anderson’ Chapter 8: Shot in the Dark

Through sickness, a second degree burn, and school draining my creativity, I finally managed to get this chapter written!

FFN | Ao3 | Buy Me a Coffee?

Sherlock was pacing back and forth almost manically. The wall behind the sofa was covered with crime scene photos, maps, and newspaper clippings. Molly even saw her own photo up there along with one awkward photo of the Holmes brothers. She was sitting in his chair by the fire, nursing a cup of chai and a book in her hand. Despite how much she tried, though, Molly simply couldn’t keep her attention on the story, having reread the last paragraph three times to make sense of it. A week had passed since the identity of the murderer was now known, and Sherlock had been working nonstop to track him down.

Molly shut her book closed loudly, a sight escaping her lips. “Sherlock, why don’t you take a moment away from the case, and actually eat something?”

“It’ll only slow me down—we need to catch Moriarty. He’s not as clever as his deranged brother, which is why he’s been laying low. Too much activity and he’s sure to be found,” Sherlock explained. He felt exhausted. The case was going nowhere. Feeling a bit lightheaded, he supposed Molly was right about him needing more sustenance—he hardly ate a morsel this past week.

“Your homeless network is scouring London for the man. Until he comes out from the shadows again, there isn’t much else to be done,” Molly told him. She stood up, leaving her now-empty cup and book on the table, and closed the distance between them. “Come to bed with me, Sherlock. You need some rest…we both do.” She was due to work a double shift starting bright and early in the morning.

He frowned in confusion. “I thought you wanted me to eat something?”

“I do, but if it’s between eating and sleeping, then at least get some rest if nothing else,” she replied, almost pleading. “What we need to do is wait until we get a tip from someone before he strikes again.”

“Order takeaway and eat it in bed?” he suggested.

“Best idea you’ve had all day,” she agreed.

“Mmm,” Molly remarked, happily swallowing the first bit of chow mein she ate from the carton, chopsticks in hand. “This was a great idea.”

Sherlock nodded in agreement as he ate, listening closely to the program on the small telly that now sat in his room. It was Molly’s, brought over from her flat. She was going to leave it, but Sherlock knew how she loved falling asleep to a favourite program sometimes, so he insisted they bring it along. They were watching an American show that could only be described as a conspiracy theorist’s wet dream. Despite the absurdity of the show, Sherlock found that he enjoyed it quite a bit.

“Do you think I’m spooky?” The male protagonist—Mulder—asked Scully.

“We should do this,” Sherlock told her.

“Do what? Become FBI agents? Join the MI6?” Molly laughed.

“No—go out on the road, solving mysteries,” he explained.

“Isn’t that a bit Scooby Doo for you?” she asked, stuffing more chow mein in her mouth.

Sherlock smirked in amusement. “And for once, I got that reference.” He had loved the show as a child. It taught him that the real monsters were only human, and fed his compulsion to solve crimes.

They finished their food in companionable silence. When the episode finished, Molly reached out for her fortune cookie. She broke it open, her eyes taking in the words, a gasp escaping her lips. “Sherlock, open yours.”

“Molly, I don’t—“ His eyes widened when he read hers.

You’ll be next.

He scrambled to open his, forcefully breaking it apart. His fortune bore the words that the consulting criminal had spoken to him years ago.

I will burn the heart out of you.

Mycroft Holmes was having a fitful sleep. He felt as though something was wrong, but he couldn’t pinpoint what it was. This brother of Moriarty’s that bore the same name—it was alarming. He was seeking revenge for his brother who he felt had died in vain all because Sherlock Holmes still lived. They were all targets supposedly, but it had been too quiet lately. Colonel Moriarty had been keeping a low profile, and rightly so.

His eyes fluttered closed in an attempt to fall asleep, and it worked for a bit until his mobile rang. Mycroft shot right up, noticing it was Anthea calling him. She never called him. He answered it, speaking her name in an uncharacteristically frantic manner. There was no direct reply, but he could hear her struggling, followed by a shatter of glass. She was fighting back whoever was attacking her. Mycroft didn’t wait another moment; he threw on the simplest outfit and was out the door in moments. The last thing he heard before the phone call ended was a gun shot.

Philip Anderson studied the wall of connections and theories he had concocted. It wasn’t dissimilar to the one he created whilst Sherlock was gone. What he had found out so far was that Colonel James Moriarty was a stationmaster up until three years ago when he had a psychotic break. It obviously runs in the family. He’s been taking out anyone who ever betrayed his brother. In Sherlock’s case, it wasn’t betrayal, but the fact that he was still breathing meant that Jim Moriarty died in vain.

If only he could discover where the stationmaster was hiding out, he’d have a lead for Sherlock to follow. He had a theory, but first, Anderson needed to find out the specifics from an expert. Who was that fellow that Sherlock and Molly spoke with for a case a while back? Philip wracked his brain, searching for the answer, and then it hit him. He looked up the number, dialing it into his mobile. “Ah, Mr. Shilcott, I have a couple questions for you.”

When Mycroft arrived at Anthea’s home—a cosy little townhouse—he noted that there were no lights on from the windows he could see. The door had been left ajar, and he crept inside, making sure not to hit any of the creaky floorboards. He had memorised them from the many times he had been over here, needing a reprieve from reality. Just then, he realised that it wasn’t much different than Sherlock using Molly’s flat as a bolthole. And just when he could possibly stumble across her lifeless form, Mycroft finally admitted the truth to himself: he loved her.

Please don’t be dead, he repeated in his head, silently mouthing the words. Little by little, he moved quietly through the house, his hand hovering above the pistol he never used, sitting in its holster that was clipped to his jeans. Soft sobs grew louder as he approached her bedroom door on the second floor, a dim light spilling out into the hall. He pushed it open slowly, and found Anthea, unharmed, crouched beside her bed. Despite the fact she had worked for him for years—almost fifteen now—Anthea had never been caught in the crossfire of a serial killer.

“Mycroft,” she called out in a broken whisper as the elder Holmes knelt down in front of her. “You need to be careful; he’s still in the house.”

“I need to get you out of here,” he insisted. “I didn’t see anyone, but that doesn’t mean he’s not waiting around.” Mycroft attempted to scoop her up in his arms, but all was a blur what with Anthea screaming. A sharp pain ripped through him—well, not quite all the way through—and was that blood? He slumped forward, heavy footfalls running down the stairs and out the door most likely. The last thing he remembered was the warmth of Anthea’s tears splashing onto his skin.

“Oh God…”

“Less than an inch away!”

“…a lot of pain when he wakes up.”

“Don’t wait a moment longer.”

“Mycroft? Please wake up, darling.”

Bright florescent lights blurred then focused into view. Standing by the door was Sherlock in full crime solving attire sans Belstaff, and Molly only in her sleep attire, though his brother had thrown his coat over the pathologist’s shoulders to keep her warm. He felt a smoothness running over the back of his right hand, and turned to see the source of it. Anthea sat beside his bed, both of her hands holding his, her thumbs running across the back of it. Her face was blotched and swollen from crying, tears still running down her cheeks.

“Hey you,” she managed to choke out. “I thought you were lost to us.”

Mycroft finally remembered. “I was shot.”

“You were,” Sherlock’s voice cut through the tension. “The bullet was lodged within you, nearly missing your heart.”

“It was less than an inch away,” Molly added. “You were very lucky.”

Feeling his mobile vibrate, Sherlock answered it despite the name that popped up on the screen. “Anderson, what is it? There’s been—“ He listened closely to him, his face hardening. “I see. Good work, there may be hope for you yet.”

“What?” Molly asked. “What is it?”

Mycroft and Anthea only looked on in curiosity.

“Anderson’s found a lead on Moriarty—he may be hiding out in the old York Road tube station.” The station had been closed for decades—ever since 1932—but that was why it was a fitting hideout for a former stationmaster. “Don’t worry, brother dear, rest assured I will find him.”

Molly cleared her throat. “Don’t you mean ‘we?’” she asked. “I’m not letting you go this alone.”

“Molly, it’s too—“

“Dangerous? Risky? I know, Sherlock. That’s why you can’t go this one alone. You need backup—I know how to fight. You and Mycroft made sure of that,” she told him. “I’m not going to sit around and wait, wondering if you’ll ever make it back.”

Sherlock sighed in defeat. He knew she would just follow after him if they didn’t go together. And then what? They’d arrive separately, and it could put her in more danger than if she accompanied him. “Fine, but we’re stopping back at Baker Street first. You need a change of clothes.”

Before walking out the door, Molly turned back to Anthea. “Remember what Sherlock said…don’t wait a moment longer.” And they were gone, off to slay a dragon, as Mycroft would say.

“What did she mean by that?” Mycroft asked.

Anthea gave him a small smile, wiping at the tears that still stained her face. “I love you, Mycroft Holmes. Don’t you dare scare me like that again.”

A look of awe crossed his face, and though he didn’t respond verbally, he lifted her hand to his lips. It was enough to let her know he felt the same.

#sherlolly #mythea #my fanfiction #the adventure of philip anderson

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crisisoninfintefandoms · 6 years

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Love and Sacrifice: Will Graham and the Great Red Dragon

So, there’s a common (not universal, but common) fanon and fanfic trope, that after the Fall, despite Will’s apparent attempt to kill both Hannibal and himself, that after surviving he won’t really try again--that whatever happens with him and Hannibal post series, it won’t involve us worrying that Will’s gonna try to off Hannibal again, and that they’re sort of done with that. And I’m going to talk about why I don’t think that’s a crazy conclusion to come to or merely a product of wishful shippy thinking. I mean, it’s definitely somewhat motivated by wishful shippy thinking, but I also think the audience is picking up on something actually present in the text, that something has to do with with Francis Dolarhyde, the Great Red Dragon, and Reba McClane.

This got long y’all, so be warned.

Recently I made a bit of an offhanded post about the parallels evident opening and closing of the series finale episode, The Wrath of the Lamb: we open seeing Dolarhyde attempt to burn Reba alive and blow his head off with a fiream (not really, but that’s what we see), and we close on Will plunging both himself and Hannibal into the Atlantic. Two apparent murder/suicides, the first in fire, the second in water. It’s a neat little bookmark, a nice bit of artistic symmetry. But, practically speaking, what it ends up doing is subliminally linking Francis/Reba and Will/Hannibal, and since the Francis/Reba/Fire stuff happens first, it serves as a kind of set up, foreshadowing, and, in a way, a blueprint of sorts for the Will/Hannibal stuff that happens later. For instance, both Reba and Francis survive their murder/suicide scene, and, presumably, so do Hannibal and Will.

Which brings me to my first rhetorical question: was anybody worried that after Reba got out and survived the fire, that Francis would come after her again? No? Me neither. If that concern is ever mentioned on the show, it’s very underplayed and not at all the focus. Will doesn’t seem worried about that. Jack’s not worried about that. Hell, Reba doesn’t even seem worried about that. Now, sequentially of course, they think that Francis is dead initially, but that gets disproved almost immediately (and who in the audience was really buying that anyway?), and we never get a scene really following up or addressing that. I mean, when Jack is told by Team Sassy Science that the corpse isn’t Dolarhyde, he doesn’t go, “Oh shit, better call Ms. McClane, better put a guard on her, she was his last target and he might come back to finish the job.” Naw. Nothin’. They’re all fully on to the Hannibal Bait plan. And this isn’t framed as them being irresponsible either, cause there’s never any adverse consequences to that. Like, say, Will sets up his whole plan, they’re all ready to kill Dolarhyde, but WHOOPS, he actually throws them for a loop and goes after Reba instead! Oh, the woeful tragedy! Oh, their terrible short sighted hubris! I mean, it would’ve been an entirely different story, is my point, one that we’ve seen before, and likely may have been expecting if the show didn’t work so very effectively to put even the possibility of it out of our minds.

Instead, as an audience, we are told in every bit of narrative and cinematic language that, while she might be emotionally scarred or traumatized by what happened, Reba is safe. That we don’t need to worry about it.. And, so, we don’t. In fact, we’re not even really worried that Dolarhyde might go after her later, if he succeeded in killing Will and Hannibal and surviving (that could’ve been played up as an element of tension, to raise the stakes in that final battle even higher, but again, nope. Different story). Because this story has somehow conveyed to us, subliminally but unequivocally, that Dolarhyde will not try again. That his danger, to Reba specifically, is over. And, so, because of the parallel that’s been set up, when Will and Hannibal act out a similar script, we instinctively take some cues from that script to inform our presumptions of how it turns out, simply based on our familiarity with narrative foreshadowing and the human tendency toward pattern recognition.

But let’s delve a little deeper: why won’t Dolarhyde try again? We could take it simply as a plot and narrative device to keep the episode moving and keep the audience focused on the the main story (which...yeah, it is) but I think an argument can be made on an in universe, Watsonian, purely character based level as well.

Follow me on this:

First of all, he doesn’t remotely try to kill Reba the way he does his other victims-- he doesn’t shoot her, which of course he could do easily. Heck, there are, like, a dozen simpler, more effective ways Francis could have gone for other than setting the damn house on fire. So why do that in the first place? Well, clearly, he doesn’t want to kill her, and as Will even says later, in the end he couldn’t. But then why do the whole fire thing at all? Just to fake his own death? Seems a bit much. PLUS, if he genuinely really wanted Reba to not die, then that’s putting her in a huge amount of risk just to cover up his own fake death, which then gets disproved almost immediately anyway. So, we could conclude that maybe he just doesn’t really care about Reba that much, but that’s clearly untrue. So what’s going on here?

Well, Francis doesn’t want to kill Reba...but it’s clear the Dragon does. That’s something set up in earlier scenes--chilling moments where Francis is fighting against the voice inside him that wants, nay, demands that she die, and that he be the one to kill her. So, I think, the fire was a sacrifice, and a bargain, with the Dragon. It’s Francis saying, “Okay Dragon, I’m gonna kill her, I’m gonna go for it, I’m gonna lock her in a room and set it on fire. But. If she makes it out...then that’s it. Okay? We don’t go after her again. She’s off limits.” In essence, he’s giving it the old college try so to speak, in order to satisfy the demands of the Dragon, but he’s not just shooting her in the spine because he wants to leave a chance--no matter how small--that she’ll somehow survive and make it out. Because he’s made a deal with the voices in his head that if she does, well, then she’s earned her life, earned her immunity from the Dragon’s violence. The fire is a way to have her face the Dragon, but maybe, just maybe, come out alive.

And that, laddies and gentlegams, is exactly what I think is happening with Will and Hannibal too. The parallel set up between Francis and Reba with Will and Hannibal can allow us to reasonably infer that certain conclusions can be drawn about the latter, based on the former--particularly where their apparent murder/suicides are concerned. Will, like Dolarhyde, also has a voice in his head telling him to kill the one he loves. You can call that voice, I dunno...Justice, Morality, Society, God even, whatever. The point is, he is being pulled in two different directions by the part of himself that loves Hannibal, and the part of himself that wants to, nay, demands that Hannibal die...and that he be the one to kill him. And so, he does the exact same thing Dolarhhyde does: he makes a sacrifice, complete with all the spectacle and ritual that old school sacrifices to primal gods used to demand. And like with Dolarhyde, I think it serves a similar purpose--it’s him making a bargain with that voice: this is it. this is the last time. If he makes it through this--bleeding and battered, if he can fall from this height into the freezing ocean and not die, if he can make it through that gauntlet, that trial of blood and ice--then that’s it. I don’t owe you any more than that. He’s earned his life. And so have I.

Anyway, there’s a LOT of parallels with Dolarhyde to talk about on the show, this is just one, itty bitty layer, so I may make another post to try and cover some more stuff later if anyone’s interested. I heard something about “Meta Monday”, and I dunno if that’s really I thing, but I’m gonna try and do something in that vein for every week I don’t write fic. It still counts as writing right? lol. It might just be the mad ravings of a mild manic-depressive but hey. Whatever.

#hannibal #hannibal meta #crisis'meta #hannigram #francis dolarhyde #will graham

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distractedfanatic · 5 years

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Grey’s Talk + Real Talk

This delves into mental illness and it also discusses spoilers for Grey’s Anatomy 15x16.

Under cut for sensitivity and spoilers. This is also stupid (STUPID) long and I’m sorry but I needed to say it. Hopefully it finds the people who need to read it. 💗

[but seriously, it’s long]

Deluca’s Dad storyline was harder for me than I expected. And not for the reasons I thought. It was hard because I expected to be more conflicted and I felt guilty for how passionately sure I was about my reactions. I also feel that my strong (negative) opinions merit some explanation. Specifically, because my issue is not with his mental illness, but with the behaviour even (and especially) from the lens of mental illness. My possibly controversial stance is that mental illness is not an excuse. It’s a reason or perhaps an explanation, but it is not an excuse for treating people badly, for alienating people or for neglecting self-work and certainly not for abusive behaviour to people trying to help and support (and I know sometimes this is impossible. I get that.) But I do think Andrew’s Dad was manipulating him and it broke my heart to see Carina’s pain in this episode - give that woman a hug!

[Digression into some context building on my opinion....]

Mental illness is close to my life. It’s a personal struggle and journey for me and it is an active, constant, often painful commitment to remaining accountable for my actions and my relationships. It’s not easy, and it’s really not fair, BUT it’s my truth and I believe in the power of leading by example. So I don’t say it lightly that I believe mental illness is not an excuse and I believe I must out myself in order to take that stance. I cannot always control what I think or feel or even how I act. But I can control how I react to it after, how I approach damage control, how much accountability I take and how much power I give mental illness in exchange for wiping my hands of its destruction.

My easy days are what some would consider their hardest. It’s all on a spectrum. My reality allows me to see both sides clearer because I have such a stark comparison between good and bad, up and down. I refuse to give mental illness credit for the absolute beauty and gratitude I have for my life and my good days, so why would I blame it fully for my bad days. Giving an illness I did not ask for and cannot control, the power of saying it makes me who I am or it dictates my quality of connections is not worth it to me to be able to surrender to it and hide behind it and I owe it to myself and everyone else to embrace it and understand it so it does not control me. I do name it. I do speak it - but how that looks for me is not rooted in shame or manipulation, it comes from a place of honesty. Of “I’m not okay today and I can’t have this conversation”. Of “I wasn’t myself and I’m doing the very best I can”. I feel the responsibility I carry as a result of mental illness and I have deep respect for anyone who is doing their best - whatever that looks like. And I draw the line at painting myself a victim - it is a disservice to the honest to god work it takes to be a human with a mental illness in a world still not built for us. And these stories on Grey’s about parents with mental illness are tough for me because I recognize that I’m in the drivers seat and should I decide to raise kids I will need to hold myself even more accountable because the cards I’ve been dealt cannot be any child’s burden. But I also appreciate this is a deeply personal topic and I respect that other people may disagree - that is their right. This is simply my own truth.

[Back to Grey’s….]

When mental illness is depicted on TV that’s always risky. (Shout out to You’re the Worst and A Million Little Things for getting a lot of stuff right and being self-aware). My personal experience is also why I have SUCH a soft spot for Helen (or at least, the season 15 version of her). I’m so proud of her, if that makes sense. I’m happy for Alex to have this time with her as her best self, and I’m proud of her. I loved how in 15x15 they played with the audience and Alex’s perception of what mental illness looks like and what stability looks like.

It is a struggle to accurately portray these topics because it’s a struggle to actually live them, or to watch loved ones live them. On TV and in life, it’s hard to balance a fear that you or your loved one isn’t okay, but also be open that they are not defined by their illness and that it can (hopefully) be managed (by meds, therapy, alternative options, or a combination). That they are a person that is bigger than any illness. And the cruelty is that “okay” and “not okay” can look so very similar.

So in Helen’s situation the bar was set low for Alex and he’s seeing that she is doing okay, so maybe he can stop looking at her as someone to take care of and focus on building a relationship. Andrew is doing the same, in theory - even if I think his motivations are influenced by other factors. But I do think Helen and Dr. Deluca will be foils to each other here. Both struggle with mental illness, both have sons deeply impacted as a result. But are the outcomes going to be different?

But also, has Helen primed us to expect that he will be opposite. If she is stable, do we automatically expect him not to be? We do have it on good authority (Carina) that he isn’t as okay as he seems. How much are they playing with our perceptions and misconceptions about mental illness? I don’t know that. I also don’t know Dr. Deluca enough to know what his personality is. He does come across as quite intense from the get go - but I don’t want to unfairly assume this is nearing manic territory, when it could just be who he is: a passionate, excited doctor and father who may be a bit tone deaf as to the impact he’s had on his family. My gut feeling is he is not okay. Carina tells us he is not okay. Everything. EVERYTHING about her in this episode exudes pain and exhaustion and proof of how not okay he really is and how she is shouldering that burden - more so with Andrew not open to seeing her side.

Now, regarding the conversation between Deluca and his Dad - that I personally feel fueled Andrew’s desire to take his Dad’s side… As it was happening I wasn’t convinced he would go down that rabbit hole. So I’m kind of disappointed that’s what seems to have happened. But there was a very key connection that tells me this was intentional - and if that’s the case, it is a larger theme that needs to be explored between him and Mer.

In 15x12 when he’s getting frustrated with her hot and cold he says (I’m paraphrasing my ass off here) [“I thought you were so BEYOND me. But you’re not. You’re like a child”] -- say what you will about the validity or appropriateness of those comments. But he was tuning into a real feeling he was having and naming that he had felt undeserving of her, at least in part. He was giving us a window into an insecurity he may not even be fully aware of.

SO. To see his Dad echo that to the letter was very interesting:

VD - “I see you... but this woman of yours, she is beyond you.”

AD - “Wow... Thank you”

VD - “Andrea, even I have heard of Meredith Grey, all the way back home. She’s more than a beauty, she is brilliant.

AD - “Yeah, I’m aware”

VD - “So... then... we change the word together! We save the babies!”

If I’m correct in how intentional this was, then I 100% believe Deluca got hijacked by this nagging insecurity and is going full speed ahead, not only because he wants to give his Dad a chance or believes he is truly stable enough for this project (which may be true for all we know). But an additional, and perhaps more powerful motivator for Andrew is that if he can be part of medical history then he can meet Mer on the pedestal he has put her on - subconsciously or not.

My disclaimer to all this is that I do believe he is confident, and I’m aware he went after her first. But you can be confident and sure of an attraction and still insecure. You can be open to love and still be intimidated. He can feel all the things. I think the trouble will be if he is unaware that he is feeling them and therefore does not deal with them. And finally, if this is an issue that surfaces, and it’s not addressed, it could breed resentment and frustration on both ends - I do not want Mer taking this on as her own because she is not lording her power over him and in fact, she was concerned about that dynamic because she understands how hard it can be. My hope is that she recognizes it and can reassure him and he will find some solid footing in their relationship and with his Dad. If I didn’t love them so hard and love him so hard I’d probably enjoy seeing him all innocent and vulnerable, but I’m just scared he’s opening himself up to be heartbroken by his Dad. And I’m not sure I can handle that. haha. Finger crossed no matter what happens with the Deluca famjam, it only serves to bring Merluca closer. 🤞💗

I’m fascinated by where they could take all this. I’m cautiously optimistic that even if it goes sideways, they can still offer some valuable commentary on mental illness and the stigma around it.

I’m so excited to see the reactions from the rest of the fandom!

Sorry this got so real (and SO long). I just couldn’t talk about this episode without going into what is informing my thoughts. Talking about mental illness and mental health matters, and if my openness resonates with just one person, that’s enough. Everyone has light inside and it’s okay not to be okay. And for everyone else fighting this monster, and doing the very best to be your very best: I see you. You are not alone. 💗

#trigger warning #tw: mental health #grey's anatomy spoilers #grey's anatomy 15x16 #spoiler alert #okay not to be okay #you are not alone #real talk #mental illness #mental health #long post

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papipopsicle · 6 years

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AFTERTASTE PART THREE

Pairing: Archie Andrews X Short!Reader

Genre: fluff, smut

Summary: In which two best friends since childhood test whether friendship and can co-exist without causing conflict. Including my OC’s Flick & Cherry, a lesbian couple and best friends of Y/N. Set Pre-Veronica.

Warnings: FWB, swearing, smut, oral (female)

Words: 2.9K

MASTERLIST

feedback is always appreciated

It was early Thursday morning. Usually right about now Y/N, Flick and Cherry would be grumbling about the day of double English and AP Biology ahead of them. This wasn't the case though, thank goodness, as three days of Spring Break were still untouched by the world.

Wednesday night had been spent watching 'The Asylum', then followed by several episodes of 'Santa Clarita Diet' because neither the Y/L/N girl nor her brunette friend were able to sleep. Strange wasn't the right word to describe the trio's friendship; it was simply unique. Felicity Moore and Meredith Simmons have been together for just shy of a year, but nothing had changed about the almost decade long friendship they shared nor it's dynamic in that time.

The trio were residing in the bedroom of a blue haired-girl without a care in the world. The week, as it did when you were having too much fun, had gone by in a flash, and now, the teens of Riverdale didn't want to waste another precious second of their time away from hell.

Y/N messaged a group chat with ten or so of her closest friends and all but Kevin agreed to a picnic in the woods.

Three hours had passed and the group of Juniors now stood on the scorching pavement waiting on Moose to decide which sandwich he wanted. Y/N stood to the side of the group in the shade, leant up Reggie's chest as he stood against the wall. She loved the boy, sure he was a bit of an idiot now and again, but he knew how to make her laugh, and for that she could never stay mad at him.

The sun was shining down on the teens from above, making Archie regret ever bringing a Jacket. He huffed, adjusting his backpack a few times to manoeuvre the unnecessary piece of material away from his body. The boy was currently in a conversation with Betty about what they planned to do over the summer, and just as she asked him about his plans, almost by chance, his eyes landed on Y/N's unassuming figure.

She looked so content in that moment, absentminded smile making her dimples more prominent as she texted back and forth with her sister. Dressed in a simple white sundress and black sandals, she was effortlessly perfect in his eyes. Although the flawless red lipstick adorning her lips would suggest a lot of effort.

At this point, Archie had completely forgotten Betty was even talking to him, and almost jumped when she shook him lightly on the arm to gain his attention.

"Arch?" She implored, eyes flitting to the y/h/c his eyes were transfixed to just moments ago. Betty hid a hurt expression with a pointedly raised eyebrow, her heart aching at the thought of anything happening between them.

"Hm-what?" The redhead stumbled over his words, but luckily before the Cooper girl could question anymore Moose and Midge finally left Earls with a white plastic bag full of food in hand.

"Come on then, kids!" Felicity called a little too excitedly for someone currently getting over a hangover, zipping up her bag quickly then grabbing her girlfriend's hand and skipping ahead of her friends.

"You heard the lady." Reggie called with a smirk, squeezing at Y/N's waist lightly to get her attention. She glared at him, knowing he knew she didn't like her waist being touched, he simply winked and put his arm around her shoulder as they walked towards the park.

The walk was only short, the teens meandering down a secluded pathway which led to a number of different fields. They followed the dirt track down past the playground, through a small woodland area until it opened out into the most beautiful lakeside meadow. This was the other side of town to Sweet Water River, still on the North side though, but twice as beautiful. Water lapped and twinkled as rays of sunlight beat upon it creating s picturesque scene fit of a film.

There was a canopy on the tree boarder, and a few picnic tables scattered around but apart from that, the place was untouched by the hands of men. It encapsulated words like tranquil and peaceful in the most incredible way possible.

Y/N fared away from Reggie and began laying out a blanket with Cherry to put the food on. Setting her backpack on the steps of the canopy, the girl opened various containers and strategically put the foods she preferred closest to her. Her best friend began smiling rather widely partway through speaking, but she thought nothing of it. Up until two large arms wrapped around her waist and threw her over someone's shoulder.

"Archie Andrews put me down this instant you absolute bastard!" Y/N squealed helplessly, earning a wolf whistle from Reggie and giggles from the rest of their amused friends. She kicked and tussled about but his grip only tightened, right up until he stood on the very edge of a fishing pier. He brought her back into his arms properly, holding her princess style as she began to protest again, "Hell no! Put me down right now!"

"You want me to put you down, Tiger? Bad choice of words..." The redhead trailed off with the cheekiest of grins pulling at his lips, and not a moment later Y/N's small figure was flung a few metres into the lake, shortly followed my Archie cannon-balling after her.

She spluttered and manically waved her arms about for a few seconds before swimming over to where Archie was currently surfacing, "You're so fucking dead!" Y/N pushed a huge wave of water in his direction then quickly swam back to the pier not giving the boy a chance to retaliate.

The y/h/c girl pulled herself up onto the wooden walkway, flipping Archie off over her shoulder while wringing out her drenched dress. In that moment, she was thankful for the insane heat, and decided that if he wanted to make her wet, then two could play at that game. She pulled the white fabric over her head, exposing her lilac lace underwear.

"Oh man," Reggie chuckled and gave Archie a hand as he got out of the lake, both boys groaning as Y/N walked away from them "if you had some balls and were actually in a relationship, you just lost sex tonight. She's your best friend, all the more reason hit that, Andrews!"

The ginger boy rolled his eyes with a slight grin and began following after Y/N as she walked to the edge of the trees. He picked up his jacket along the way and draped it over her shoulders as he reached her, "Y/N/N, I'm sorry, baby. In my defence, Flick dared me to, I thought it'd be fun."

The girl put the jacket on and folded her arms, staring up at Archie slightly hurt, "You think I'm upset because of that? I don't really give a shit to be honest, I'm mad because you ignored me for four days straight and then when you see me today you don't even bother to say hello. And, by the way, you may be fucking me but you aren't my boyfriend, you don't get to call me baby."

Those words hit harder than they should've, he watched her for a few moments in shock before pulling her into the tightest hug possible. "I never meant to ignore you, Tiger, I'm so sorry I made you feel that way. You were having some time with the girls and I was helping my dad out at the construction site, not once did I mean to make you feel that way."

Y/N looked up at the puppy-eyed boy with a pout, "Stop making me feel bad for getting upset, you're too good at being cute you need to cut it out before I forget."

Archie took a step closer to the petite blonde, her ragged breaths heavy on his lips as he leant down ever so slightly to tuck a few strands of hair behind her ear. "Forget about what?" He asked lowly.

But the sound of their friends loud laughter shattered the moment, and Elodie simply smiled warmly, "Nothing, it's not important right now." She took his hand in hers and began leading him back to the group, "Let's just enjoy today while it lasts."

Hours of shenanigans later, the sun started hiding away behind a darkening blanket of clouds and the teens of Riverdale decided to call it a night. They'd eaten and laughed their way through the day and now it was time to head home. The y/h/c girl's dress had dried only an hour later, but still she found herself wrapped up in the warmth of her best friends hoodie.

Now, it was just Archie, Y/N and Betty walking back to their triangle of homes. The next door neighbours were wrapped up in some strange conversation and the Y/L/N girl happily listened, not having the energy to fully join in on whatever they were talking about. She had her earphones in playing soft music as her arm closest to Archie swung back and forth in the comfort of his.

But the girl was pulled from her champagne haze when Archie decided to flick one of her headphones out, she peered up at him curiously wondering if he'd been talking to her all this time. "My Dad's got to stay late working tonight, do you want to come back to mine for the night?"

"Sounds like a plan, Andrews." Y/N hummed happily, choosing to quickly message her Mum letting her know where she'd be for the night instead of allowing her worry for hours on end. The two said goodbye to Betty as they neared the driveways, finding it equally confusing when she left without even so much as looking back or replying.

But they shrugged off their friend's odd behaviour and entered the house, five seconds later deciding to try and be silent when they found Vegas fast asleep in his basket. Making their way to Archie's room, the girl didn't even wait for him to ask before taking one of his shirts from the drawer. Turning away from him instead of leaving for the bathroom, she unzipped his jacket and removed her dress, pulling the large black tee over her head. She unclasped her bra and pulled it out from one sleeve, flinging it into the pile of clothes now sat on the boy's floor.

"I hope you realise that jackets mine now, payment for ruining my dress." Y/N huffed, turning on her heel to see her red-headed friend leant against the doorway with a grin plastered all over his face. Her heart sped up at the sight, not able to gauge the meaning behind his expression.

"Keep it," he pushed off the frame and stepped towards her, making the petite girl take a step back. His eyes weren't darkened by lust but with the stern grip on her waist she knew he was in control. His smile faltered for a split second, looking so innocent just for a moment, "I'd say some sappy bullshit like it looks better on you anyway, which it does, but honestly all I could think about today was how you wearing that made you mine. I get so possessive it scares me, I just-"

Y/N cut him off with a simple deadpanned look as she concealed a smile, "Stop being annoyingly attractive, I'm not ready to not be mad at you yet."

"Would this make you less mad?" Archie's lips brushed against the shell of her ear, making the girl shiver involuntarily. He pushed her down onto the unmade bed, following and holding himself over her. His lips ghosted over her's momentarily before moving to the nape of her neck, biting and sucking at certain spots eliciting the most explicit winces of ecstasy from the blonde.

"You're so beautiful." He took off his own top before doing the same with the one she had wore, flinging them both who knows where before finally kissing her. It didn't last long though before his lips trailed down again. She yelped as Archie grabbed the back of her thighs and lifted her up to wrap her legs around his waist, quickly attaching his lips to her collar bone sucking and nibbling up her neck and along her jaw again.

"I mean it, you're stunning, you're so damn funny, and, most importantly, you're all mine." He said between heavy breaths as he left wet kisses down her panting chest and stomach, looking up every so often through his eyelashes. She squirmed slightly at the overwhelming sensations, warmth pooling between her legs starting to cause discomfort. Something primal stirred within Y/N when the redhead's voice became so low and full of lust. She was his, nobody else's.

But the girl was brought out of her thoughts at the hot breath coming down on her clothed pussy. She gasped, her petite hand shooting to grasp at his hair when he decided to lean forwards and nuzzle his nose on her clit.

"Oh god, Archie, carry on what you're doing don't you dare stop." Y/N moaned pornographically at the foreign feeling. The boy's hands explored her body intimately before meeting at her hips, sliding her thong down her legs irritatingly slow then slipping one over each shoulder, nestling between them with his mouth excruciatingly close.

He hovered there without touching her for a moment then looked his best friend dead in the eye with an expression she'd only seen one other time. "Tell me what you want, Kitten." Archie almost whispered his voice was so low, lips so close Y/N felt every word like quiet vibrations electrifying her skin.

"You." Was all she could muster, jutting her hips trying to find any kind of friction. The boy smirked, finding the sight of his headstrong friend writhing under him after he'd hardly touched her utterly entertaining. The soft moans she elicited were torturous, tonight was meant to be all about her, but of course, blood was rushing to other places too.

"Okay babygirl, as you wish." Archie and lowered his head, licking his tonged from the bottom of her entrance all the way to her clit. He sternly pushed against her stomach with one hand, lowering her increasingly arched back as the sensation became too much to handle.

It wasn't like anything she'd experienced before, Y/N was no saint but nobody had ever made her feel this good by doing so little. Not even her own hands had created such a sensation before.

"Holy shit! Oh my god Arch, fuck that's so good!" She rasped as he lapped at her cunt, licking circles on her clit and moaning in satisfaction as she became wetter from arousal. The boy toyed with her entrance, teasing and taunting her then finally slipping one finger into her pussy. His name rolled of her lips in waves of euphoria, only spurring Archie on to go faster and finger her in perfect rhythm.

"Baby, I'm so close." Y/N squeaked between heavy breaths, her core tightening into knots as she tried to hold onto the newfound feeling. He added another finger without warning, pumping faster in and out and grabbing her lest breast with the other hand, squeezing and harshly massaging it in attempts to overstimulate her.

And it fucking worked. "Cum for me, Kitten." Archie commanded gruffly before continuing his movements. Her entire body was covered in a sheen of sweat as a string of curses left her open lips between explicit noises. It was inexplicable. She grasped at the fabric of his bedsheets and moaned his name as loud as her voice would allow before breaking half way through.

He brought his fingers out of her and made eye contact as he licked them clean, which was probably the hottest and most sinful thing Y/N would ever see. Archie lay her legs against the bed and panted lightly, his back against the cool wall.

"I think now's a good time to say that's the first time someone else has ever made me cum, so, thanks, because that was fucking incredible." Y/N mused from her state of complete bliss with her eyes practically shut, missing the look of shock Archie shot at her.

He felt kind of proud truthfully and let a smile rest against his lips, "Happy to be of service, Tiger."

"Could you pick up my top please, it fells weird to sleep without one." She mumbled, curling onto her side to make room for the boy to hound her. He shook his head and chuckled, taking a second before getting up from the bed and picking up the top he'd leant her.

It didn't take long for her to put it on and cuddle up next to Archie once he lay down. It was quiet, serene even. "Get some rest." He kisses the top of her head before wrapping his arm around her protectively and comfortably.

For a while they stayed like that, it could've been hours for all they knew before Y/N decided to speak up again, "This doesn't mean you can call me baby, though."

PART FOUR

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wheezingwhippet · 6 years

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Broken people and broken animals

I apologize in advance for the length of this blog. It’s a long one, but one that I felt needed to be written down. I decided I would share it.

Broken people and broken animals

It’s not often that I accept something positive about myself. The past few weeks, however, have taught me a few important lessons about myself and the gift I possess.

Let me start by sharing a little bit about myself. I am bipolar manic-depressive. It doesn’t define who I am, but it is a very real piece of me that is constantly impacting my life. I was diagnosed with bipolar II as well as generalized anxiety disorder in 2015. My first major depressive episode occurred earlier that year. I had never experienced true depression before that time. It was a terrifying time in my life. I felt hopeless, desperate, alone, and some days completely apathetic. I shut myself out from the rest of the world. It didn’t matter to me if I was alive or dead. I made a suicide attempt and luckily made it through. The panic attacks and extreme paranoia, followed by days of apathy, lethargy, and severe depression eventually turned to periods of mixed states and hypomania. I would become extremely agitated, frustrated, and depressed; at the same time, I would be energetic and restless with mounting anxiety.

Eventually, the feelings and loss of myself during this time led me to seek help. I started therapy and medications. There were highs and lows through it all, but after a few months of trials I became stable. I started to regain my confidence and the sense of who I was once more. Life was improving. However, like many other bipolar folks, I ended up tapering out of my medications. I would forget to refill or take my pills for a few days, and feeling better at the time would just leave it at that. When life would start to spiral out of control, or when I found I was affecting those I cared about by my mental status and actions, I would start medications again. The cycle continued over the past 3 years.

Most recently, I discontinued my medications after experiencing new side effects from a change in manufacturer of the drug. I needed to speak with my physician, but life got in the way. I had started working multiple jobs to keep up with the financial mess that was becoming my life. My massive student debt, piled on top of the high cost of living and met by low paying jobs, quickly sent me spiraling into my second major depressive episode. I cannot count the number of times I had broken down, feeling hopeless and completely lost. I am ashamed of my actions and the way I took it out on some of the people I cared most about. There was never a time I had felt as alone as I had throughout this year. Seventy to eighty hour work weeks were absolutely draining me, and all of it was for money that I was simply losing each month. For multiple months I had to seek additional financial help even on top of what I was doing. The stress of my work was an additional burden that was sometimes too much to bear (I work in the field of veterinary medicine).

I could no longer feel happiness. I didn’t know who I was anymore. I could sense my “old self” trapped somewhere far away, calling out to be heard. But it was so deep and so buried away, hidden behind a cloud that was unreachable. I wasn’t myself. I began to feel suicidal once more. For many days I would experience apathy and a desire to disappear passively. I desperately hoped that some natural accident would occur so that I could leave this world. I couldn’t find an escape to it all. I wanted so bad to feel better, but couldn’t find the strength to change. I lost those I cared about most in my life due to my own negligence and actions. I stopped eating as my appetite was non-existent. I lost nearly 20 pounds over the course of a few months. Eventually, I made further suicide attempts on more than one occasion.

Finally, I reached out for help once more. I found an incredible, caring doctor that got me restarted on my medications. I am working daily to improve my life and well-being. Today, I am far from healed, but I am on my way.

I am a very broken human being. I always have been, and although I can put some of the pieces back together again, I will always have cracks and scars. This is something I can accept. I will never be perfect and I won’t always be understood, but that is okay.

These past few weeks have undoubtedly been some of the most difficult in my life. However, I had some unexpected, insightful experiences that bring me to the true point of this journal topic. My job includes working with some very difficult animals some days. There is one in particular named Juniper. Juniper is a young Boxer-mix dog. She came to her owner as a rescue and it was quickly noted that she had fear and anxiety in certain situations. The veterinary office happened to be one of those situations. The doctor and I worked repeatedly with this dog for weeks as she needed multiple vaccines and tests that Juniper simply would not allow. She would lunge, bite, and try to murder you for even looking in her direction with the thought process of poking her with a needle. Her fear and anxiety, regardless of our attempts to make the situation as stress-free as possible, escalated to the point where she would no longer allow any part of her to be touched.

On her most recent visit with us, Juniper tried to bite multiple times and could not be treated at all. Our doctor and the owner came to the decision that this was not good for her and that her anxiety was too much. The owner elected to discontinue the attempts to work with Juniper on her anxiety further, as the owner herself was developing greater stress over the situation. But I experienced something different with Juniper on that day. When I first entered the room, Juniper, strangely enough, decided to greet me and allow me to pet her. I could not touch that dog previous to that day. As I finished taking my history, Juniper gave me a look before promptly sidling up to me and pressed herself against me. She sat and leaned into me until I reached down to pet her. She continued to push on me, encouraging me to sit with her and offer her love.

Let me repeat: I could not touch that dog previous to that day. Not once in the multiple times we had seen her could I touch her.

Juniper continued this throughout the exam. Over and over, she kept coming up to me giving me this soft, understanding look and asking for my attention. I couldn’t believe what was happening. Even after she tried to murder us for attempting to give her a vaccine, she went right back to pressing up against me, begging for me to give her attention. Before she and her owner left, I went out to say goodbye and was greeted once more by Juniper who then hesitated to leave me. The experience was very emotional.

Today, I found myself with another highly anxious, fearful dog. He had come a long ways in his training, but could still become reactive and was very sensitive. I was charged with getting his history and recording his vitals. As I walked in the room, I could immediately sense what he needed. His expressions, his attitude, his eyes all told me what he was thinking, how he would act, and what he needed most from me to be comfortable and trusting. I respected those things. I gave him his space, let him investigate, and offered him the chance to communicate with me. I could see in his eyes that he could understand me and that I could understand him. He allowed me to work with him after just a few short minutes, letting me know that I could be trusted.

I didn’t think as much of that experience until I was about to leave and the doctor called me into her office. The owner, she informed me, told her today that she was very impressed by my attitude and how I worked with Hunter. She was extremely happy with how I communicated with her dog. This owner, the doctor continued, has been working with us for years and doesn’t normally say things like that. That was quite a compliment and I should be proud.

Pride wasn’t exactly the emotion I got, but rather I was grateful and appreciative. These were not the only two experiences I have had, but two of the greater ones. I realized that I have a gift with animals who might not always be well-understood. The language, the feelings, and the experiences are shared between us. I think not only do I have a natural understanding of them, but that they too have a sense of understanding for me. Some animals seem to know when you are lost or feeling down. Some animals will step up to guide you as they know you would guide them. Those that are broken seem to have some of the most understanding and compassion to give back. I believe Juniper could sense my depression that day. I believe she could sense that I was lost in this world at that time. I believe she understood that I meant her no harm, and that I could be trusted and in that moment needed a little guidance or reassurance. As for Hunter, I think that he knew we were one in the same. He recognized that I could understand him. He trusted me, a complete stranger, when he normally doesn’t.

The relationship between humans and animals is a very powerful one. Humans and animals have the incredible ability to heal one another more than many therapies can offer. All of my animals are misfits, each one unique and maybe a little broken. But they have helped me heal more times than I could count. I get each and every one of them. I have helped them just as much, where others would have or had already given up on them. I am extremely grateful for the opportunity to recognize this ability and to use it to better not only the lives of other broken creatures, but to better myself as well.

We can all learn a lot from broken animals. We just have to take the time to appreciate and understand them so that we can also understand ourselves. After all, many of us are broken, too.

#bipolar #love #animals #dogs #life #life lessons #mental health #mental disorder #positivethinking #depression

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tomeandflickcorner · 6 years

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OUAT Episode Analysis- Knightfall

Well, congratulations, Gothel. You’ve actually managed to make me hate you even more than I hated Rumpelstiltskin Prime from Season 4 onwards. I’m now REALLY hoping you die in the worst possible way before this show ends.

The flashback for the episode started off so beautifully wholesome, it made my heart swell. It begins with Young Alice and Wish Killian. We see Young Alice has become quite the painter, and it looks like Wish Killian has, too. As evidenced by him standing next to a painting that is similar to the one Young Alice is painting. The quality of the second painting is significant enough to suggest that they were not painted by the same person. So it’s safe to conclude that Wish Killian learned how to paint to help Young Alice cope with being magically confined to their tower home by helping her see the world through paintings. And Young Alice ended up taking up painting to emulate her father and create her own visions of the world she’s never seen.

Now, I’m wondering exactly how Wish Killian learned to paint. Is this a skill he learned through Milah? After all, it was heavily implied that she had a great artistic talent. If that was the case, it suggests that Killian Prime also has an artistic side. (Which means we have something else to add to Killian’s growing list of talents.) But what stuck out to me the most is that Young Alice and Wish Killian’s paintings feature a ship. Was this supposed to be the Jolly Roger? That aside, it’s rather heartbreaking that Alice chooses to paint the sea. Perhaps being by the ocean would have been cathartic for her, too, like the way it was for her father. But because of the curse on the tower, she cannot see it in person.

Young Alice even picks up on the bittersweet nature of it, as she verbalizes how her paintings only makes her yearn for the chance to see the ocean with her own eyes. And its clear Wish Killian’s heart is breaking for his little girl, as he has yet to find a way to lift the enchantment that’s keeping her trapped. (Also, how adorable is it that he calls her Starfish? I wonder how Alice earned that particular nickname.) In an effort to lift her spirits, Wish Killian presents Young Alice with a small chest that he claimed to be planning to give her as a birthday present but decided that it would be better to give it to her now. The chest is revealed to be filled with glass vials filled with sand, which he’s collected from the nearest beach. He goes on to explain how this was his attempt at bringing the sea to her. Touched by the gesture, Young Alice embraces her father. But the heartwarming moment is abruptly interrupted by Gothel, who appears out of nowhere, Force Choke Holding Wish Killian before magically shoving him out the window, much to Young Alice’s horror.

But then, it turns out that that whole segment was just Young Alice having a nightmare. When she wakes up in a cold sweat, Wish Killian is by her side in an instant, doing what he can to calm and comfort her. Now, the thing that stood out to me the most is that Young Alice somehow knew what Gothel looks like. How did she know? It’s never indicated that they ever met in person. But Wish Killian mentions something about how Alice sees the world in a ‘special way’ and that he believes her when she insists that her nightmare wasn’t just a dream, and that it meant something was wrong. Does Alice have some sort of psychic ability? Is she channeling Fiver, the clairvoyant rabbit from Watership Down? Because that would actually explain a lot. Like why Tilly has to be on medication in Hyperion Heights while no one else does. Maybe these pills were what helped suppress her visions? As to how Alice gained that ability, it might have something to do with how her vile womb donor was a witch. Perhaps magic is genetic to a certain degree.

In light of his daughter’s visible distress, Wish Killian ends up making a decision he clearly didn’t come to lightly. He admits that there’s one thing he hasn’t tried in his ongoing efforts at freeing Alice from her tower, but at this point, he’s willing to swallow his pride and risk taking that option. Before he sets off, he comforts Young Alice, promising that he’ll return soon. In the process, he gives her his white knight chess piece so she’d have something of his to hold onto until he returned, prompting Young Alice to do likewise and give him her black rook chess piece.

It turns out that Wish Killian’s plan is to go to Wish Rumpelstiltskin for help. That alone shows how much Wish Killian loves his daughter. He’s actually going to the man he hates the most for help. Imagine how much that must have rankled him. We’re talking about the man who murdered the woman Wish Killian loved in cold blood, right before permanently maiming him by brutally cutting off his hand. But Wish Killian was willing to put his pride aside and ask for that man’s help in order to help his daughter. He is really that desperate.

When Wish Killian visits Wish Rumpelstiltskin’s cell beneath Wish Snowing’s castle, Wish Rumpelstiltskin is at his most manic state. So, how exactly did Wish Killian know where Wish Rumpelstiltskin was? Did that whole thing with Snow and Charming approaching Killian/Hook in the 6x20 flashback occur in the Wish World, too? Was Wish Killian stepping forward to cash in on the favor they owed him for helping them reach EQ Regina’s castle? Because I thought Shady Blue said that everyone would forget about their experiences while that whole singing spell was in effect. Also, is there a Wish Emma somewhere in this world? I know the whole Wish World creation thing is beyond confusing, and it was suggested that our Emma was the only version of Emma. But maybe it was like how it was with the 2003 anime version of Fullmetal Alchemist. Remember when Ed wound up in that other world beyond the gate? His spirit essentially got implanted into the body of his counterpart in that other world. Maybe that’s what happened when Emma was sent to Wish World? Then again, that wasn’t the case when Regina ventured to Wish World. Considering Wish Regina had imposed exile on herself and probably was nowhere near the Enchanted Forest. But maybe that had to do with how Regina Prime simply wished to be taken to the same world Emma had wound up in. After all, wording is very important, especially with the arbitrary rules of magic. Of course, I’m probably trying too hard to make some semblance of sense from this.

Anyway, Wish Rumpelstiltskin eventually makes a deal with Wish Killian. It involves Wish Killian seeking out another ship captain. One who managed to obtain an artifact that’s later revealed to be Maui’s Fishhook. So apparently Moana exists in this world now. Once Wish Killian has Maui’s Fishhook, he’d be able to use it to use it to destroy the tower and thereby free Alice. In exchange for his help, Wish Killian promises to release Wish Rumpelstiltskin from his cell. So, with the knowledge of how to help Alice, Wish Killian heads off into town, where he reunites with Wish Smee. Which I did like. At the end of the day, it’s quite clear that Killian and Smee were good friends. Wish Smee even offers to return ownership of the Jolly Roger back to Wish Killian. But Wish Killian’s life now revolves around Alice and finding a way to free her. He manages to trace Maui’s Fishhook to Captain Ahab of Moby Dick fame. The irony of this is interesting. Because of Ahab’s famous hunt for the White Whale, he’s become an iconic representation of obsessive hatred. One might even accuse Killian Prime/Wish Killian of that, prior to him finding a reason to live inside Emma or Alice.

When Wish Killian confronts Ahab over the matter of Maui’s Fishhook, Ahab taunts Wish Killian for a bit, accusing him of being old and washed up. However, Wish Killian doesn’t let these taunts get to him and proposes a wager. He invites Ahab to join him in a game of dice. The winner of the game would get both Maui’s Fishhook and the Jolly Roger. Even though it is kinda strange how Wish Killian saw fit to use the Jolly Roger as a gambling chip despite the fact that she currently belongs to Wish Smee. (And there’s even a brief moment of mild levity when you see Wish Smee reacting to Wish Killian’s statement.) Regardless, Wish Killian and Ahab have their dice game, with Wish Killian winning.

Unfortunately, when Wish Killian returns to Wish Rumpelstiltskin’s cell to uphold his end of their deal, it’s revealed that Ahab followed him, and he once again starts to mock Wish Killian, accusing him of no longer being a pirate and being so pathetic, he has to resort to seeking Wish Rumpelstiltskin’s help, etc. etc. But really, who cares? What’s it to Ahab, anyway? Since when is it any of his business what Wish Killian does? Seriously, Ahab, why do you even care?

Unfortunately though, Ahab’s mocking accusations end up getting to Wish Killian, and, in an effort to save face and uphold his pirate name, he challenges Ahab to a gun duel. But as they fire off their shots in unison, Wish Killian has one of those life-flashing-before-your-eyes moments. In the process, he remembers Alice and how she’s waiting for him back in her tower. And he realizes that, if he died, then she would be all alone. Thankfully, he manages to come out on top in the duel, with Ahab’s bullet simply grazing his shoulder. Wish Killian doesn’t stick around to gloat, however, as he has remembered that Alice is his top priority, so he immediately heads back to her tower, with Maui’s Fishhook in his possession.

And that is when the episode flashback reaches its tragic turn. Upon returning to the tower, Wish Killian is given a warm welcome by Young Alice, who is quick to hug him. But the moment they embrace, Wish Killian recoils in pain, and a mark appears on Young Alice’s wrist. Out of nowhere, Gothel appears, announcing that Wish Killian’s heart is now cursed. It turns out that she somehow made it so Ahab’s bullet was infused with the Curse of the Poisoned Heart, and that when it grazed Wish Killian’s shoulder, it entered his bloodstream, thereby placing the curse upon him. (Does this mean she somehow put Ahab up to this?) She proceeds to taunt Wish Killian about how he brought it all upon himself by letting his pride get the better of him before magically removing him from the tower. She then continues to taunt and gloat to him even more about how he’ll never be able to safe Alice now before teleporting off, leaving Wish Killian to listen to Young Alice’s desperate voice as she repeatedly calls out to him to save her.

Okay, seriously, what is Gothel’s malfunction?! Why would she do this? Hasn’t she hurt Wish Killian and Alice enough? Why did she feel the need to torture them even more? Wish Killian and Alice were just simply living their lives together, not doing a single thing that would have bothered or inconvenienced her at all. What, will Gothel somehow get returned to her tower prison if Alice ever escapes? If that’s the case, there was nothing in the narrative to indicate it. And the fact that she took advantage of this moment to forcibly separate them is just sadistic and cruel. She better not later act like she was doing this for Alice’s own good by claiming she was protecting her from having a selfish father or whatever. Because that is horsebuck of the highest order. Not to mention how she has no right to act like she ever has Alice’s best interests in mind. This is the woman who only birthed Alice to escape from the tower. And she didn’t hesitate to up and leave Baby Alice to die alone in the tower. There is no reason why she’s allowed to suddenly act as if she cares about Alice now. Especially when she has purposely separated Alice from the parent who actually loved and was there for her.

Neither Wish Killian nor Alice deserved this. And Wish Killian is nowhere close to being a selfish father. He gave up his WHOLE LIFE to be there for Alice and raise her as best he could. He spent the last 12 or so years with everything revolving around her. Just look at all the toys Alice had lying around in her tower. Wish Killian clearly went to town in providing her with things to play with, even to the point of spoiling her. And we see though that whole flashback moment during his duel with Ahab that he did everything in his power to make sure Alice had a full life, in spite of how she couldn’t leave her tower. He did everything he could to make sure she’d want for nothing, and never stopped trying to give her the one thing she lacked- her freedom. The fact that he’s now being punished so harshly for one single mistake he made by letting his pride get the better of him just one time? That is just despicable and sadistic. Especially since he’d already realized that he’d made a mistake by listening to Ahab’s taunts. And you just know that Wish Killian is going to spend the rest of his life feeling guilty over this, especially knowing how much this has hurt Alice, who has lost her father and ONLY companion because of this.

In Hyperion Heights, Rumpelstiltskin and Rogers (who has yet to wake up and remember that he’s Wish Killian) are still trying to find the culprit behind the string of murders. As they’re working, Tilly/Alice stops by unannounced, inviting Rogers to have a chess match with her. But Rogers essentially brushes her off, stating that he’s busy with his police work and needs to focus. After Tilly shuffles off, Rumpelstiltskin states that their best bet at preventing further murders is to know who is involved with the Coven of Eight. Because knowing that would enable them to offer protection to the would-be victims. But the only one who would know the identities of the remaining members of the Coven of Eight is Eloise/Gothel. Which is a problem, as the woman has seemingly gone into hiding. But then, as if her ears were burning, Gothel appears right in front of them, announcing that she’s willing to provide them with information. However, when they bring her into the interrogation room, Gothel refuses to say anything in front of Rumpelstiltskin. Which is obviously because they both know they’re both awake. But the fact that she plans to be alone with Rogers indicates that she’s up to no good, as Rogers is the only one of them that hasn’t woken up yet, so he has no idea who it is he’s talking to. Rumpelstiltskin, pulling Rogers aside, informs him that it’s not a good idea for him to be alone with that woman, but Rogers just rolls his eyes, confident that he can handle Eloise/Gothel.

Honestly, I’m kinda annoyed at Rumpelstiltskin here. Sure, he’s trying to warn Rogers not to let Gothel get into his head and all, but Rumpelstiltskin is awake and therefore knows exactly who Gothel is. And he knows what Gothel did to Wish Killian and Alice. And it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to know that Gothel will most likely take full advantage of the fact that Rogers doesn’t remember who she actually is. If Rumpelstiltskin really wanted to help protect Wish Killian/Rogers from Gothel, then you’d think he would be putting a bit more effort into it. Maybe Rumpy Rumps hasn’t actually fully let go of his animosity towards Killian Jones and is therefore only putting in the bare minimum of work into keeping Wish Killian safe.

Anyway, when Rogers goes back into the interrogation room, Gothel doesn’t hesitate to get all creepy, even commenting on how Rogers might look good if he was clean shaven. Okay, I REALLY want to strangle this disgusting woman! Where does she get off, commenting on his appearance here? She has no right to do so, especially after everything she’s done to him and his daughter. But then Gothel starts going off on this weird tangent, saying that Rogers has to figure out who he really is before he can even hope to help protect the other members of the coven. Which is really weird. Because I seriously doubt she’s actually wanting to help Rogers wake up. Eventually, she convinces Rogers to bring him his favorite painting, revealing that she knows Rogers liked to paint. Refusing once again to heed Rumpelstiltskin’s warnings, or pointing out the obvious that Gothel’s friends might die if she doesn’t knock it off with the guessing games, Rogers complies and fetches an oil painting he kept. Which is the same painting we saw Wish Killian had painted in the flashback. (Ugh, the feels that Wish Killian was able to keep that painting when the Dark Curse brought him to Hyperion Heights)

Again, Rumpelstiltskin doesn’t seem to be putting much effort into keeping Rogers from playing into Gothel’s hands. He KNOWS Rogers doesn’t know the full extent of how dangerous Gothel is. He KNOWS that Rogers doesn’t know the first thing about this woman. But he responds to Rogers’ stubborn ‘I can handle this’ attitude by basically throwing his hands into the air and going ‘fine, do what you want.’ So I’m once again side-eying Rumpy Rumps.

By the time Rogers returns to the precinct with the paining he made in Pre-Curse Enchanted Forest, Tilly has once again returned. This time, she’s seen that Gothel is present and she is freaking out. I’m guessing she’s once again channeling Fiver the rabbit, as she can sense that something is not right about that woman. But when she begs Rogers to not go back into the interrogation room with Gothel, Rogers abruptly, and rather harshly, dismisses her and ignores her pleas. And my heart is breaking for them both. Because it’s clear that Tilly has some sort of sixth sense that is setting off serious warning bells in her head. And you just know that Wish Killian is going to beat himself up over how dismissive he was to his daughter once he wakes up, even though it wasn’t necessarily his fault due to the fact that the curse was preventing him from remembering.

(And my hatred for Gothel increases even more when she reveals that she can see Rumpelstiltskin, Rogers and Tilly’s confrontation through the security camera when she mockingly waves at Tilly. That woman is the WORST!)

Once she sees the painting, Gothel once again starts spouting riddles before she finally gets Rogers to admit that, like his true self, he feels a connection to the sea. But he’s never been there as Rogers because there’s no one for him to share it with. Is that what you were after, Gothel, you complete sicko? Is that what you wanted Rogers/Wish Killian to admit? Were you just looking to pour salt into his wounds? Haven’t you tortured that poor man enough?

Finally, Gothel states that both the lady doctor and the blind baker both got a gift of a heart-shaped box of chocolates before they were attacked, suggesting that the chocolate box might by the killer’s M.O. But when Rogers and Rumpelstiltskin follow that lead, they end up at a dead end, I guess, as the florist whom the next chocolate box was delivered to reportedly died years prior. Wondering if they were intentionally sent on a wild goose chase, they head over to the hospital, where the blind baker was recovering under the watch of some armed guards. When they get there, however, they find the guards have been taken down, and the blind baker has been killed.

But then, a hysterical Tilly suddenly appears from the shadows, brandishing a scalpel. She begins to yell at Rogers and Rumpelstiltskin, shouting at how she tried to warn them something bad was going to happen but they refused to listen to her. She then jumps out of a nearby window and runs off. While Rogers and Rumpelstiltskin are unable to follow her, they make their way to her boxcar home. Inside, they find a rather incriminatory painting of the Coven of Eight’s mark, with two of the points crossed out in red. At face value, this probably would suggest that Tilly was behind the murders, but neither Rogers nor Rumpelstiltskin believe that she is the actual killer. However, they are unable to ignore the fact that Tilly was present at the scene of the crime, and that she’s now wandering around somewhere, having a full-on panic attack. So, while Rumpelstiltskin volunteers to return to the police station to buy them time and do some damage control, Rogers takes it upon himself to track down Tilly.

While all of this is going on, Lucy is off coming to terms with the knowledge that her father would die if the curse was ever broken. In a misguided attempt to keep this from happening, she tries to tell Jacinda that she no longer considers Henry her favorite author as she no longer believes in happy endings and fairy tales, stating she’d rather her mother not see him again. Which is really frustrating, as she is giving up too easily. While we don’t see how Jacinda responds to Lucy’s statement, Henry is feeling upset that Lucy is now pushing him away and even confides in Regina about it when they run into each other on the street. Regina is apparently returning home from Facilier’s place, which just makes me think even more that they spent the night together. As well as wonder what exactly they’re doing with this particular pair up.

At some point, however, Drizella, still reeling from Steppunzel’s death, as well as the knowledge that her mother really did love her all along, asks Henry to come over to help her out with things. When Henry stops by with the intention of being there for someone he believes is a friend (remember they seemingly bonded during the Halloween episode), Drizella makes a move on Henry and tries to kiss him. Which is extremely gross, considering that Henry is Drizella’s stepbrother-in-law, and Drizella is fully aware of this fact. At least, I think Henry and Parallel Ella are married. I realize that it’s safe to assume that they were probably married before the new Dark Curse was cast, but we see them kiss for the first time in 7x08, and then, two episodes later, we flash forward to Lucy being born. To date, we’ve never seen anything that happened between the first kiss and the birth of Lucy. They never specifically said that they were married, did they? Not that it really matters, of course.

Thankfully, Henry is quick to reject Drizella’s advances, telling her that she’s not in the right state of mind and that she shouldn’t do something she’d later regret. At the same time, he empathizes with her, because he still believes his wife and daughter are dead, and he knows how it feels to lose the people you love. But he reminds Drizella that, unlike him, she still has family and advises her to reach out to Jacinda and Lucy. At first, Drizella doubts that Jacinda will want to see her, but Henry convinces her to at least try to extend an olive branch. So Drizella stops by Jacinda’s apartment under the pretense of returning some of Jacinda’s childhood things that Steppunzel had stored away. Eventually, the two women begin to have a heart-to-heart about the difficulties that surround the relationship between a mother and daughter, with Jacinda admitting she’s facing her own issues with Lucy because of the little girl’s sudden behavior. Overall, this is a really nice scene, and I don’t find anything to fault with it. In the end, Jacinda and Drizella seem to make amends, with Jacinda even returning a toy that Drizella apparently favored as a child. Whether or not this truce will still stand once Jacinda wakes up is anyone’s guess. But during their conversation, Drizella, I guess, has an epiphany and she realizes that she still has something to do. And she ends up leaving the apartment, stating that she has to finish what Steppunzel started. I have no idea what this means. What exactly does Drizella plan to do? Is this going to be good or bad?

The episode ends with Lucy FINALLY following my advice and seeking out Regina, showing her the page from the Storybook. Why Lucy didn’t show this page to Henry or Jacinda, I can’t figure out. Especially since it would prove what she was saying about the curse was true all along. But upon seeing the page and finding out that Lucy knows what will happen if the curse ends, Regina admits to Lucy that she’s awake and suggests they work together to find a way to save Henry. Which is what I’ve been saying they should do from the moment Regina woke up! And again, while this scene is a nice one, there’s something about it that rubbed me the wrong way. Regina brings up the fact that Henry also worked to find a way to break the Dark Curse, armed with just a pair of walkie talkies and an operation name. While this is completely true and accurate, the way Regina talked of it made it sound as if this was something she and Henry did together. But it’s not. Operation Cobra was Henry and Emma’s thing. Regina was the one trying to stop them from succeeding.

Also, can we talk about Regina’s claim that ‘Mills women save people’ or however she worded that statement? Okay, what? Was I watching a different show for the past six seasons? Is this the Mandala Effect at work here? Because if memory serves, saving people was the Charming family’s claim to fame. The Mills family, however, mainly consisted of Cora, Regina and Zelena. No offense to the Regina fandom, but when did any of those women actually make a habit of saving people? In fact, apart from Zelena, who I think only killed two people in her life (and I don’t count Neal as he killed himself through stupidity), they all had a pretty high body count. So… is Regina just falling back into her old habit of acting like she was always the real hero or something, and that she was not actually responsible for any of her past crimes? I’m sorry, but that just really irked me. Especially since I thought Regina was doing really well this season. But once again, we have her acting like she was always on par with the Charming family in terms of heroics. Although, I guess that’s nothing new.

Next week, however? I honestly have no idea what to expect. With an episode title like ‘The Girl in the Tower,’ you’d think the next episode would continue to focus on Tilly/Alice. But the promo only focused on Lucy and Regina’s plan to spy on Faclier. If that’s going to be the main focus of the next episode, I’m going to be disappointed. Because at the moment, I’m only interested in seeing Wish Killian and Alice wake up and remember each other.

(Click here to read more Episode Analyses)

#ouat episode analysis #ouat 7x13 #wish world!killian #detective rogers #alice jones #tilly #wish world!Rumpelstiltskin #rumpelstiltskin #captain ahab #gothel #jacinda #lucy mills #henry mills #drizella #regina mills

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theclaravoyant · 6 years

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AN ~ for the Anon who prompted: “Fitz and Skye/Daisy start dating, and Simmons struggles with it, not because she’s in love with him but because she sort of thinks of him as ‘hers’.” also fits @aosadvent2017 prompt “love”

Summary:

Fitz & Skye start dating during Jemma's absence in Season 2. Upon her return, Jemma struggles to deal with how things have changed, leading to a reflection on her own feelings and a discussion with Skye about the man they both love so dearly in such different ways. Rated T.

Rshps: Fitz & Simmons, FitzSimmons (discussed), platonic Skimmons, romantic Skitz. (I also don’t mind if you prefer the endgame: FitzSkimmons interpretation)

someone will love you (let me go)

I've been hoping somebody loves you in the ways I couldn't Somebody's taking care of all of the mess I've made Someone you don't have to change - Let Me Go, by Hailee Steinfeld & Alesso

Maybe it is the way he skirts around her to do it that hurts; bustling past her with two cups in his hands, but neither one of them meant for her. He’s put the kettle on again for her, at least, but it still stings as Jemma raps her nails on an empty cup, waiting, while Fitz sets Skye’s down in front of her, kisses her cheek, and rushes off down the hall with a glint in his eye as if he has something to do. His feet are bouncing, fingers trembling with a purpose that he’d lost for so long – and that, even so, he puts on hold when Skye leans back from the bench and calls after him –

“Hey!”

He turns. “Mm?”

“We still on for Indiana Jones tonight?”

“Absolutely.”

“See you there.”

No words bubble up in Jemma’s throat – no enquiries, no invitation. She knows it is not her place. Not anymore. But it still hurts, in a strange way, to see the settled, comforted smile that comes to rest over Fitz’s face as he continues about his day with a little less of a manic edge to his energy. It’s as though Skye has brought him something that she herself could not - which, Jemma supposes, is the truth of it.

It’s a truth she’s going to have to come to terms with, and she’s usually quite good at living with truth, but in this case it’s as if every fibre of her body rejects it; not out of hatred or judgement or spite of Fitz, or even of Skye, but simply of the way things are. The way that Skye and Fitz chat and banter like before – or, well, almost like before, except that now they stand a little closer, touch a little more, and sometimes when one makes the other laugh, they share a kiss or a squeeze of the hand or some other little moment that says I’m yours. In these little moments it is like they are the only ones in the world – but they are not, and Jemma feels it acutely like liquid in her lungs, that she is on the outside, looking in on her best friends having the time of their lives.

This hurt, it’s a lot like jealousy, Jemma muses. It has an indignant edge, though Jemma knows that it should not: who is she to deny their happiness, after all, and why should she want to? Should she not feel unspeakable joy, that her two best friends have found such love in each other? And is it even jealousy, if she has never wanted Fitz in that way to begin with?

“…Jemma?”

Awakened from her reverie, Jemma looks to Skye, who is frowning expectantly across the bench as if she’s been talking for some time, and awaiting some sort of answer. But Jemma can’t remember if Skye has even spoken, let alone what she might have said. She blinks helplessly, and Skye sighs and shakes her head.

“You need to let it go.”

Her voice has a concern, and a warning, and a sympathy to it that tells Jemma exactly what – or rather, who - it is, even as Skye plucks a protein bar from the ‘fruit’ bowl, and strides off on her own way without another word.

Jemma busies herself that night with Doctor Who instead. She knows most of the newer episodes by heart, but the familiarity and the optimism of it are comforts in this trying world. Even so, Jemma finds it difficult to sit still and watch; she’s distracted by every sound, thinking it’s Indiana Jones, or Skye and Fitz talking, or maybe even not talking at all but doing something quite different that’s none of her business and even though she knows they’re rooms and walls away her mind creates phantoms. She plugs in a set of earphones to drown them out and is suddenly struck – and not for the first time – by how ridiculous she is being.

Why is she so preoccupied? Jemma wonders. It feels as though she has left the lab in someone else’s charge; as if she is paranoid that somebody is going to do something wrong. Does that mean she’s treating Fitz as – as what, her responsibility? Certainly not her lover, she thinks, or else she’d want him here with her, or at least away from Skye. But that’s not it. Not that she’d be opposed to his presence, of course, but she feels no injustice or void to be filled. She has enjoyed Doctor Who before Fitz and she’ll enjoy it after him, if she has to. But then… now that she thinks about it, she has never really imagined a time after Fitz. She’s never quite envisioned the possibility that he would not want to spend every second of his spare time with her. Her hypothetical futures without Fitz have always been by force; not by choice, and certainly not by love. How has she come to think she has such a claim on his time, or over his heart, to feel like she’s left a child with a babysitter, instead of a friend with a woman he loves?

Jemma yanks the earbuds from her ears and slams her laptop closed. She slides off her bed, raking her hands through her hair as her stomach twists awfully. Fitz is an adult, making choices with his time that have always been his to make. And it’s not like this is the first time he and Skye have had movie nights without her. But it’s the first time, as far as she can remember, that she has explicitly not been invited, and for a reason she’s hovering frustratingly close to but can’t quite put her finger on, that makes her angry.

Why? Why? she demands of herself, pacing around her room.

Well, why does anything or anyone get angry? They’re hurt, or scared.

She’s hurt that Fitz didn’t choose her. As selfish as that makes her sound – especially in light of the fact that not so long ago, he very much did choose her – it is a hurt. Especially after so much time apart; so long spent dreaming of their reunion; so long expecting to walk right back into his life… and not just that, but to run back into his open arms, and spin around in wild exhilaration, and they would both be healed and fixed and together again and it would all go back to normal somehow. It hurts that the way Skye and Fitz’s relationship has developed is just one, glaringly painful example of how very wrong she’d been.

But… maybe she’s also scared. Scared that because ‘FitzSimmons’ is not yet fixed, they will never be fixed. Scared that she doesn’t understand what ‘fixed’ is in this mad new world; that perhaps she never has. Slowly, reluctantly, Jemma begins to admit to herself that she’s scared, scared, scared. Scared that Fitz choosing to spend tonight away from her will mean choosing every night away from her; that having to watch Doctor Who without him tonight will mean always watching Doctor Who without him. Maybe she’s even scared that her friendship with Skye is over too; that they will choose each other instead of her. Now that thought, she truly cannot bear – and yet, she can’t help but think that she’s brought it on herself.

She brought it upon herself when she left Fitz, alone, in one of the darkest times of his life. She lied to him, intending to soften the blow but in reality, leading him to believe that she has no faith in him - and maybe, though she hates to admit it, Fitz was a little bit right about that. On top of that, Jemma had let Skye believe that she’d walked out on them both. Even knowing Skye’s history of abandonment, and that she could keep a secret like nobody’s business when she wanted to, Jemma hadn’t seen fit to trust her. At least, she imagines, that’s probably how Skye sees it. Then, to make matters worse, Skye had witnessed firsthand Fitz’s heartbreak and pain and the state Jemma had left him in. It’s no wonder that they should choose each other over her, and the rightfulness of it only makes Jemma more afraid.

(So afraid, in fact, that tears begin to fill her eyes).

Frustrated at her own vulnerability and the weakness it makes her feel, Jemma wipes at her eyes. She catches sight of her reflection in that moment and hums to herself in despair, feeling ever more pathetic by the second. She feels like a petulant child, and when somebody knocks gently on her door, it is all she can do not to screech at them to go away and bury her head in her pillow.

Instead, Jemma pulls herself together like a well-functioning, non-crisis-having adult and opens the door – and catches her breath. Skye is standing there, in fresh pyjamas and with a towel wrapped around her head. When she sees Jemma’s sorry state, her expression softens.

“Do we need to talk about this morning?” she asks.

“What about it?”

“About you being weird. About Fitz bringing me coffee.”

Jemma sighs and steps back from the doorway, inviting Skye inside.

“Don’t you have a date?” she wonders.

“I’m on my way,” Skye explains, “but I thought you and I left things on a weird note this morning and I just wanted to check – are we good?”

“Sure,” Jemma answers weakly. “Absolutely. Why - why would we not be good?”

“Uh, maybe coz I stole your boyfriend?”

“You didn’t steal him,” and Jemma can’t help but snort when she feels her fist clench up defensively. “And he’s not my boyfriend.”

“Are you sure?”

This, at least, Jemma can answer honestly without dodging any asteroids of emotion. “I’m sure,” she insists.

“Good,” Skye agrees. “Because I don’t want to get in the way of you two, but I’m not going to be second fiddle either. I don’t always want to be competing with Fitz’s best friend.”

“Me?” Jemma points at herself, incredulous. “No, I don’t want Fitz – I mean, not like that, I’m just his friend. You’ve got nothing to worry about on that front and Fitz? Well, he – he certainly looks like he’s all in, so, congratulations.”

And damn it the tears are coming again. Jemma wipes her eyes furiously, and Skye hums in sympathy and walks over, enveloping Jemma in her arms for a moment.

“I know,” she croons, “and I promise, I’m looking after him.”

“Looking – after him?” Jemma repeats Skye’s words absently, wondering why something in her chest seems to unclench upon hearing them. “Of course you’re looking after him, why would you – oh...”

Skye releases her, smiling tearfully. “There it is,” she whispers, watching realisation dawn on Jemma’s face.

“I – I guess I hadn’t noticed that part,” Jemma says, apologetic. “So many people have hurt him, and I wanted to keep him safe. Even if that meant putting myself into every aspect of his life, so nobody would be able to get to him without going through me. His father, the bullies at school, the girls who used to mess with him… now Ward…”

“I know, I know,” Skye agrees, cutting Jemma off. “He has a soft little mollusc of a heart but I will protect it with everything I have. Everything. I promise.”

“I know you will.” Jemma sniffs, and pulls Skye back into an even tighter hug. “And if I ever gave you the impression that I didn’t trust you, or you weren’t good enough, I’m really sorry. Fitz loves you, and I love you, and I know you’d never hurt him.”

“And if I ever gave you the impression that I wanted to keep him away from you, or that we don’t want you around, then I’m sorry too. And I know he is too.” Gradually, they part back to arms length again. Skye dabs at her cheek and adds: “Besides, I don’t blame you for acting weird. Emotions are hard. And Fitz’s heart makes some bullshit decisions.”

“He told you about Alistair?”

“Oh yeah. If I ever meet that guy I’m definitely punching him in the face.”

“Ha. Get in line, missy.”

“Gladly. I’ll help you with your technique while we wait.”

Skye smirks, and Jemma finds herself smirking right back. Tears shine on both their faces; the marks of the love and courage that it has taken them to get to this point. This time, neither makes an effort to wipe them away.

“Seriously, though,” Skye remarks, “how does the guy get his heart ripped out and spat on so many times, and keep believing in people like that?”

Jemma purses her lips, to stop her smile from spreading at the look of wonder on Skye’s face – and her apparent obliviousness to the brilliance of her own soul and the reason, no doubt, that she was so drawn to Fitz in the first place.

“I don’t know,” Jemma muses. “I suppose you’ll have to ask him.”

#jemma simmons #bus kids #skitz #fitzsimmons #skimmons #aospositivitynet #buskidsnet #platonic fitzsimmons #brotp: fitzsimmons #prompt me stuff #clara's fic tag

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luckystarchild · 7 years

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“But, No Biggie!”: My Horrific Start to NaNoWriMo 2017

Or, “I Don’t Deserve Sympathy: A Pushover’s Account of Personal Perseverance”

It began on All-NaNo’s Eve, (a night known to outsiders as Halloween), as all good horror stories do.

At 11:30 PM on October 31, I receive a distress call from a friend in Iceland. She is moving stateside soon. She signed a lease on a new apartment within a mile of my workplace; can I please pick up the keys for her when the office opens at 9 AM? Someone has to get them and she’s not in the country yet.

I am supposed to arrive to work at 9 AM. I will therefore be late to work if I do her this favor…but her apartment is so close to my workplace. I’ll be an asshole if I say “no.”

(Remember this logic. It will come into play again.)

Not wanting to be an asshole (and in no small part because she’s awesome, the task needed to be done, and being late to work isn’t a big deal), I say yes, and am 15 minutes late to work. I will have to stay 15 minutes late this evening to make up the missing time, and will therefore be late to this evening’s write-in (which I have been looking forward to attending).

But, no biggie! I can begin writing on my lunch break. I always write on my lunch break, anyway. I will kick NaNo2017’s ass, starting today, on my lunch break!

Alas, my boss announces a mandatory department lunch shortly into the workday.

I will not be writing at lunch today, after all.

Hyped up to write as I am, this is a disappointing turn of events. “But, no-biggie!” I tell myself. “There’s still this evening’s write-in. Even if I’m a bit late, I can still get some words written. Awesome!”

Alas, at 5:30 PM, my boss sends me an email. We have emergency rush work that must be done immediately. Please, Star Charter, get this done tonight.

He has emailed me at least two hours’ worth of extra work.

I will not be making it to tonight’s write-in, after all.

More disappointment, more delayed momentum, more putting off getting started—but, no biggie! I can finish this extra work, go home, take a hot bath, and then write in my room until bedtime. Not an ideal start to my NaNo, but gosh darnit, I’m getting these words written come high water or hell! I diligently set to work on my additional tasks, productivity set to maximum so I can get home and finally start writing.

Alas, at 6:20 PM, I receive another distress call from a different friend (who is also participating in NaNoWriMo). One of their friends is, through no fault of their own, being forced to leave the state on short notice, leaving behind a dog. This dog doesn’t need much—merely to be walked once a day, during the middle of the day, with roommates taking care of said dog in the mornings and evenings. My duties will last for approximately one week. Can I please walk this dog every day for the next week, on my lunch breaks?

Lunch breaks I have planned to dedicate to NaNoWriMo.

I am sorely tempted to say “no.” I need my lunch breaks. For the past year, I have spent all but a handful of my lunch breaks writing. Giving up my lunches to care for a stranger’s dog, during NaNo of all possible months, is the exact opposite of ideal.

But the apartment housing the dog is across the stress from my workplace.

I’ll be an asshole if I say “no.”

(I told you to remember my earlier logic, didn’t I?)

Animal lover than I am, person-who-doesn’t-want-to-look-like-an-asshole that I am, pushover that I am, I say yes. I am instructed to go to this stranger’s house immediately after I get off work to pick up a key and meet the dog—further delaying my journey home and my start to NaNoWriMo.

“But, no biggie!” I tell myself, eye twitching with manic energy. “I’ll just be a little late. That’s all!”

I frantically finish up my work and leave to meet the dog, making it there by 7:05 PM. The apartment complex is directly across the street. It is well-known for sketchy characters, shootings, and muggings. I slink to the apartment door clutching my purse, then knock.

The door opens. I am bowled over by 100 pounds of furiously friendly animal.

The dog, I learn, is enormous, hasn’t learned not to jump on people, and is a ball of pure, unrestrained enthusiasm—much to the chagrin of my outfit. My dress is torn, my tights are mangled, and my nicest, most expensive pair of boots now sport a deep gouge on the toe.

But. No biggie. Let’s get the key and get out, go home and write and forget this ever—

The dog’s owner is crying.

The dog’s owner is a lovely person, and is in distress, and her situation is absolutely awful. Writers, empathetic people as we are, cannot simply walk away from that. I am not going to leave her like this. So, I sit on her couch and listen to her, because that’s what you do in that situation. Girls gotta stick together, support each other.

As we talk, my phone buzzes in my pocket two or three times a minute.

The notifications are from my writer friends, discussing how productive and lovely all of their write-ins are.

The irony of it stings. But, no biggie. I’ll get home…eventually,. And I’ll write. And it will be OK.

It will be OK!

She tells me she doesn’t actually know when she’ll be back and hasn’t booked a return flight; I’ll be watching the dog indefinitely. But that’s no biggie; it’s just my lunch break. I order us a pizza. I set up her Uber for the next morning, to take her to the airport. By the time I leave she’s feeling…well, not better, but at least centered, and that’s a victory...though I’ve learned the hard way she also has a cat, which has made my left eye swell near-to-shut and set my throat on fire, my nose to streaming, my skin to welting from the dander.

I am there till 9:30 PM. I drive home with the use of only one eye. I have a mild panic episode at the light near my house when a driver runs a red light and blows past me. I am home at 9:50 PM. I shower, finish up the work my boss assigned, and am finally ready to write at nearly 11 PM.

I pop a Benadryl, crack my knuckles, and get to work.

One eye still swollen shut, throat still on fire, sinuses like fire hydrants (but, no biggie!), I sit down and write one thousand, six hundred, and sixty seven words. It feels like utter magic.

And then I pass the hell out, somehow in bed ten minutes before my bedtime.

It was not a good start to NaNoWriMo. But I started. And despite the onslaught of high water and hell, I hit my daily word goal. If I made it through this, the rest of the month ain’t got shit. I’m in full “COME AT ME, BRO” mode, SO BRING IT ON, NANO 2017, because I��ve got your number.

Your number 50-freaking-thousand by the end of the month, and it ain’t no biggie.

#COME AT ME BRO #nanowrimo #nanowriting #nano2017 #nanowrimo2017 #writer problems #writer #national novel writing month #idk if i'm a masochist or just a writer #or are those the same thing #probably the same thing #writers life #writing #debating counting this post in my monthly wordcount #but that feels like cheating #nah #not gonna do it #gotta get 50k of my MS #no shortcuts for me!

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sunlitroom · 7 years

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Gotham s4e04 - The Demon’s Head

As I watched it, and some random observations here and there.

Previously on Gotham.

Jim took some stupid pills, and decided that going to Falcone for help in dethroning Oswald was a good idea. His visit was seized on by Falcone’s daughter – Sofia – who just might have something to prove to her father, and ideas of revenge for Mario. She manic-pixie-dream-girled Jim, then showed up at GCPD. Ra’s al Ghul wants his magic knife back. Bruce wins it at auction. Ed is defrosted, but seems to have dropped several IQ points. Barbara and Ra’s kissed.

As always, long post will be long - reaaally long. There are likely to be rambling digressions. Gobblepot may appear (although I welcome all shippers and non-shippers alike :)). There will be naked favouritism and naked not-favouritism. Broader comments at the end on plotlines and parallels and general direction.

At a museum, the magical knife is being examined by a Dr Winthrop. Bruce says he wants to know as much about it as possible, and Alfred says he should have considered that before spending quite so much money on it. A boy around the same age as Bruce enters the room. He’s much more childish than Bruce (not in a bad way, in an age-appropriate way), and very knowledgeable – given his analysis of the knife.

Alfred draws Bruce away and points out involving an ‘old geezer’ is one thing, but he’d also be endangering a young boy. Bruce doesn’t care, though, and simply asks them both to keep this business secret.

(An aside – old people, apparently OK as collateral damage)

We move now to a room in some abandoned warehouse - upside down – which is reflective of the mental state of its inhabitant, Ed, who is labouring painfully over some riddles. He’s frustrated and dishevelled. He’s also constructed a revenge wall for Oswald. There’s a seeming lightbulb moment – and he pulls out a knife, stabbing a picture of Oswald.

Tomorrow night is the night you die

(An aside – that’s a great picture of Oswald. No wonder the citizens are all a bit taken with the dapper gangster who says that he alone can clean up the city).

Back at the museum, Dr Winthrop has decoded some important information

He who rises from the waters, death shall not touch. With this sacred blade, final savage destiny earth quake, bloods flow, demons head, all tremble, dogs and cats living together, etc etc.

Dr Winthrop and Alex talk about the knife, and the legend of a man who couldn't die: Ra's al Ghul. Apparently he was a warlord. Winthrop says that the stories might just be stories, but that people are willing to kill for them, and that Bruce stumbled on something more dangerous than he imagined.

As they talk – we see R’as approaching the room

There’s a knock at the door and Winthrop sends Alex into the office with the knife and tells him to stay quiet.

Ra’s enters the room and smoothly introduces himself.

(Just an aside at the point – his dialogue and manner of delivery are both so much better in this episode, I think. It’s much lighter and more casual but – if anything – it makes him seem more dangerous. I think the slightly more overblown ‘fantasy’ style just seems daft. Plus Ra’s has been a man of the world for a long time. He knows how to adapt.)

Winthrop is suspicious. Ra's is making no effort to conceal himself, and shows off his age and knowledge. He says he's looking for a knife. Winthrop claims that he doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Ra’s smiles.

You know, the best liar I ever met ran a brothel in Shanghai. You knew she was lying but, you didn't care – you so badly wanted to believe her.

Glancing over Winthrop’s desk he sees a picture of Alex – and lifts his school hat.

The fire alarm rings suddenly – which also means the police will arrive. Ra’s asks again about the knife – but getting no further, breaks Winthrop’s neck. As he leaves the room, we pull away too – and see Alex hiding behind the doorframe, crying.

Back at the museum, we open on Winthrop’s corpse – cold and blue. Jim is there. Harper arrives. Jim asks brusquely where Bullock is, and is told he’s taking a sabbatical.

(An aside – that’s odd that Jim didn’t know that – no?)

Jim’s assiness intensifies and he asks Harper if she’s babysitting him. She asks him if he needs babysitting. Apparently so – given that snit he just threw.

Glancing over the visitor logbook – Harper is about to tell us the last visitor was Bruce Wayne, when Jim beats her to it, spotting Bruce approaching over her shoulder.

Bruce asks what happened, staring wide-eyed at the corpse. Hayfever, Bruce. A fatal attack. What do you think happened?

Jim stops him approaching further and asks if they’d met. Bruce seems a little discombobulated – but can still answer. He asks when he was killed, and also mentions Alex. Harper says no-one mentioned a boy being here.

Bruce quickly starts obsessing over the knife again. Jim asks him what the knife is. Bruce doesn’t answer, but says that he’ll come to GCPD as soon as possible. Jim tells him that a man is dead, a child potentially missing, and this is no time to play detective. What does he know?

Bruce lies and says it’s a very old knife that he paid a lot of money for and wanted to know about, and mentions Barbara bidding on it. Jim looks troubled. He tells Harper to find Alex and tells Bruce to go home – he’ll deal with Barbara.

Barbara's house. She is looking at something we can’t see – apparently less than happy. As Ra’s arrives, she needles him for being late. He apologises, but smiles – pleased to see that his guests have arrived. Barbara doesn’t like them – but Ra’s points out they wouldn’t have been necessary if she’d got the knife.

He approaches the raised platform where Barbara displays guns, and we see a small Sandor Clegane lookalike, and someone Ra’s refers to as a dog – Anubis – but who actually turns out to be a man on a leash. Ra’s tells him that he’ll let him kill the boy, and pets him like a dog. That’s quite a lot of nope right there.

At the Iceberg Lounge, Oswald sits at his desk and stares at Ed’s bowler hat. It’s looking in good nick for being stored in ice.

Victor strolls in

Boss

Oswald shuts his eyes in irritation, and reminds him about the conversation they had about knocking. I’d happily trade any other storyline this season to see domestic life at the Iceberg Lounge.

Victor is completely unbothered by this.

Uh huh

It’s essentially like scolding a cat.

He tells Oswald that ‘she’ is here.

Sofia enters the room. She’s not wearing the gangster get-up she wore to GCPD. Instead, she’d gone for a much more demure and traditionally feminine outfit – a long-ish dress with a flared skirt. The long gloves are just weird, though.

Oswald smilingly welcomes her to Gotham – but he’s just about buzzing with repressed energy in that way that lets us know he’s on the edge of being very, very angry.

Sofia smiles innocently, and says that she learned from her father that when the King of Gotham summons you, then you go as requested.

Oswald asks after Carmine – but Sofia says they should address the elephant in the room. She claims she’s here to administer to Falcone charities. Oswald, however, is sceptical and hostile – and says he doesn’t see why these have to be handled in person.

Sofia says his concern is unfounded. Oswald rises from his chair. He tells her that her father taught him many things – one of which was a healthy paranoia. Some of Falcone’s old capos went underground. They may have vanished, or may want a Falcone back. He laughs

Who knows, but I hear your father’s voice whispering

He leans in close

Be careful now

He tells Sofia that is he finds this is a fool’s errand to reinstate her father then – he nods over to Victor, who quietly says

I'll stab you

Sofia rises and takes a few steps away. She tells Oswald exactly what she told Jim about being sent away because Gotham was too dangerous, but feeling that it is her true home. Her eyes have filled with tears.

Is that enough?

Oswald blinks and walks towards her.

Gotham - mother to us all

He stands close behind her and looks at her side-on. She can’t see him without turning round, and we see her eyes flickering – wondering if he’s convinced.

Oswald’s face clears

I think we have nothing to worry about. Give my father your best

He does look after her as she leaves, though.

(Hmmm – ambiguity everywhere. Oswald seemed reasonably convinced, but the look after her as she left would suggest that he’s not actually settled in his mind. Sofia recycles the story she told Jim – which might just mean it’s the truth, much better to use the truth when possible if trying to deceive - but hearing it twice, worded identically, does mean the story now seems suspicious, too rehearsed, part of an act. Was she telling Jim the truth in the first place?)

Jim is at Barbara’s house. When he enters, there are lots of punk rockers hanging about, and White Rabbit is playing.

Seated at her desk, Barbara is calmly playing patience. She greets him in cool, measured tones.

Jim – what a lovely surprise

Jim gives his usual wary look of suspicion where Barbara is concerned, and comments that she seems to have landed on her feet as usual.

(An aside. The only time I can think of Barbara seeming to have landed on her feet – would be when she opened Sirens with Tabitha. Even then, I’m assuming that took work. The rest of the time, she’s lurched from one disaster and one captor to the next. Does Jim just try not to think about her attempted suicide or something?)

She smiles, and tells him that a woman has to stay busy. Jim frowns, and says she seems different.

Do you like this me better?

Jim moves to safer territory and asks about the knife. Barbara raises a wry brow – but says she was here with witnesses, and asks if they’re done. Jim bristles a little, and says they aren’t. He wants to know who's bankrolling her. She’s says it’s a client – but that, while tempting, she can’t give a name.

Bruce appears from nowhere, and mentions Ra’s name. Barbara has her back to Bruce and Jim, but we see her eyes widen, and there’s a slightly wobble in her composure.

Jim looks generally unsettled and hauls Bruce out

(An aside – there’s much more in this episode of Jim treating Bruce like a child. I think it works well. Bruce is a child. Alfred is way too acquiescent with him. Jim being willing to actually step up and tell him off adds something to their relationship. It reminds us, too, that Bruce is a child – and lets Jim do something other than just being angry all the time).

Meanwhile, the music plays out, and Barbara turns over the King of Hearts.

(Another aside – I like Barbara’s newfound calmness. I know some of it comes from Ra’s training/brainwashing/whatever – but I’d guess that Barbara’s upbringing and education must sure have drilled some of that cool composure into her? The icy Betty Draper thing suits her well. I know that type of demeanour is often represented as restrictive and repressed – but there’s a power in being able to embody it).

In the alley outside – Jim tells Bruce off for following him. Bruce insists that he should have let him come with him. Again, his tone and wording reminds us of his age. Jim is angry – and asks Bruce who Ra’s is. Bruce starts a lie – but Jim sees through it and tells him to stop. Bruce spills the beans.

Jim asks why the knife is so important. His phone rings – and Harper tells him that they can’t find the boy. He tells her, meantime, to search for Ra’s. Jim tells Bruce no-one saw Alex – he must be hiding and scared. He tells Bruce if he wanted to play detective so bad – then he can help. What was he wearing, what did he say – there must be something Bruce can give him?

(An aside – and again, much, much better characterisation for Jim here – reminding us that he is an actual detective. He likes puzzles, he wants to solve things, he thinks. Can we please have more of this Jim?)

Bruce remembers the room Alex said he was using at the library. Jim says if he’s hiding, then he may not trust the police. He takes Bruce with him to put Alex at ease. (Again – actual thought from Jim instead of just barrelling in. I’m begging – please – more of this)

Oswald is seated at his desk, scowling at two men – sent by Ed – who are about to rap a riddle at him. Everyone saw this clip repeatedly – so I can spare my wrists. Long story short: Ed’s riddle is dreadful, and Oswald resolves to go meet him and have him frozen again. Victor is hot throughout.

Jim and Bruce are at the library looking for Alex. Bruce convinces him to open the door to the private room – but he panics when he spots Jim. Bruce tells him that he can trust Jim, though.

When we enter the room, we can see that Alex is pale and shaky and still plainly in shock. He looks at Bruce.

It was the knife - did you know it was dangerous?

Bruce lies – and said that he didn’t. Jim glances at him – plainly not very pleased – but doesn’t say anything.

Jim promises he’ll protect Alex, but he says that the man (Ra’s) won't stop until he gets the knife. Bruce asks if he has the knife, but Alex says he hid it.

There’s sound of a commotion. Jim tells Bruce to take Alex to the station. As they run off, Jim walks through the library slowly, gun drawn. He’s pounced on suddenly by Anubis and Clegane. He manages to fight the dog off. He asks who sent them. Clegane delivers a very long name.

Thanks for clearing that up.

Meantime, Anubis grabs and bites Alex – but is recused by Bruce. Bruce – however – is nearly killed by Clegane – but Jim topples the bookcases and flattens him – at least temporarily, and yells at Bruce to run.

When Jim gets back to GCPD, though there’s no Bruce – and Harper can find no trace of Ra’s. Just as she’s saying that, Ra’s himself shows up looking damn fine. He claims to be the cultural attache to a small country (missed the name). Jim has heard of this country, much to Ra’s surprise – and he invites him politely to speak in the Captain’s office, all discreet and smooth.

(Again – a broken record, but so much better. I feel like any other week, Jim would have just growled at him and maybe swung a punch. He’s not supposed to be a stupid man. Please let him be smart more often)

When Ra’s enters the office, Jim quietly tells Harper that Barbara must have talked to Ra’s, and Ra’s now presumably thinking Alex gave Jim the knife. He tells her to call Alfred to try and find Bruce and Alex.

In an abandoned something or other, Bruce is trying to treat Alex’s wound. Alex is ashamed of being afraid, and of freezing when he was attacked. He wants to know how Bruce stops being scared. Bruce says fear is normal, and that he froze when he saw his parents killed. There’s nothing wrong with being afraid, and once you recognise it’s normal you can put it in its place – and then act and fight back.

Alex sits on a step and Bruce sits beside him. He tells Bruce that he felt bad for Bruce when his parents died – and that all the kids talked about him. Bruce asked what they said. Alex said that he lives alone in a big mansion and doesn’t go to school, and flies around in a jet. They made him sound weird.

Bruce looks sad and tired.

Maybe I am

Alex disagrees and tells him that he’s cool – and says that he (Alex) is weird. He pauses, and then comments that Bruce is maybe a little weird too, he guesses.

Bruce smiles

Alex smiles too, and adds weirdly cool

They sit quiet for a moment, and then Alex says he’ll take Bruce to the knife.

GCPD, where Jim offers Ra’s coffee. Ra’s comments that they both know why he’s here. He spins a nice story about how the knife is part of his country’s cultural heritage, but is politically loaded and sought-after – hence the discreet bidding. Unfortunately, Barbara failed to obtain it.

Jim listens.

Ra’s says that he understands there’s been a murder. Jim, still watchful, tells him that it was the museum’s curator

That's awful

Ra’s says he will press a claim to the knife on behalf of his government. Jim asks why the knife is so important. Ra’s recounts the tale of the man who could not die, who committed terrible acts and raised a kingdom – but then vanished, promising to return when he had this knife. He says it’s justa story – but meaningful to his people.

Jim frowns. Ra’s smiles -and says he hopes this satisfies his curiosity.

Jim looks at him carefully and begins to speak. He doesn’t bother hiding that he knows who Ra’s is -he’s trying to make a discreet deal/test Ra’s:

My chief concern is that the grandson of curator being hunted – maybe for the knife, or because the killer thinks he saw something

Ra’s smiles slightly

Did he?

Jim says no. Ra’s sighs in mock relief

Well then - he's safe

Jim plays clever. He’d want assurance before releasing the knife. Ra’s plays back – he wants to see the knife first.

Uh oh - here comes Alfred. He barges in yelling about Bruce and punches Ra’s as soon as he spots him. Jim hauls him out of the room. Alfred tells him that he doesn’t know what he has there. Jim tells him he’s beginning to – but he needs time, and he needs time. Unfortunately, though, Harper calls his attention to the fact that Ra’s has already searched the bag and left. Jim tells Alfred they need to find Bruce.

The Falcone mansion, where three men – presumably the capos Oswald mentioned – are greeting Donna Falcone. She tells them she doesn’t want to be called that or hear from them. They persist. They want Falcone’s return, which they assume is coming now that she’s back. They want to ‘put Penguin in his place’. She tells them ‘this is Penguin’s city’ – just as Oswald arrives with Victor in tow. He smiles – and asks Victor how many graves he dug

Two…but they’re roomy.

Oswald and Sofia are alone in the room. We see her flinch and tear up at the gunshots – presumably for show – as Oswald is watching her. He smiles

There we are - paranoia put to rest

Sofia puts on a little act about being used – but if she’s as smart as she seems – then it’s likely she suspected Oswald would do this. She says she was the worm on his hook

With one difference, my dear – the worm is usually eaten

She asks if he trusts her now, and he observes that she’s alive, isn’t she? He advises she plant roses to cover the smell. As he leaves, she makes an attempt to reel him back in. She says her father wouldn’t have killed those men. If he’d been in Oswald’s shoes – then he’d have taken her to dinner, had them seen in public – show that he had old order support and then those men would have pledged loyalty – but now…they’re fertiliser. Her father built on a strength of others.

Oswald watches her. It’s hard to say how much he’s just digesting this information, and how much he is also reassessing her.

Oswald smiles brightly

New city, new methods

And leaves

Sofia smiles slightly, seemingly satisfied, a tear rolling down her face.

Bruce and Alex back at the museum, where Alex hid the knife in plain sight. He tells Bruce about the legend, and says that terrible things happen because of this knife – and says the man that killed him can’t have it. Bruce promises he won’t let him take it. They hear breaking glass and run.

It’s Clegane-lite and Anubis, hunting them down.

You know, Anubis is actually pretty slow – on account of the fact that we’re not designed to run about on all fours. I can’t help but feel that an actual Doberman (which looks pretty Anubis-y) would have been better.

Back at GCPD, Jim can’t get through to the consulate and there’s still nothing from Bruce. Alfred asks why Bruce was tagging along anyway. It’s a fair question – but a bit rich, given what Alfred has been allowing to go on lately.

Jim says Alfred doesn't get to lecture him on honesty. Alfred weakly says it’s Bruce’s decision to tell – but Jim, rightly, points out that Alfred is Bruce’s guardian – he can violate privacy for safety. Alfred blusters about sticking to the point and asking what he’s doing to find Bruce.

They argue a bit more before somehow searching Alex’s bag again and figuring out where he likely is. Alfred is going to come, but Jim refuses:

The access I gave you depended on trust – you’ve not been honest with me.

He tells Harper that if Alfred tries to leave she should arrest him. Alfred asks on what ground – and Jim says she’ll think of something.

At the museum, Bruce and Alex are still hiding. Bruce is sweating

Oswald is sitting in a booth at the club. Ed didn’t show at the pier, and has sent another rap riddle. It’s dreadful again

Honestly, that could be anything

Victor asks if they can’t just please torture them for information

Why not?

Oswald knocks back a stiff drink.

Back at the museum, where dropping the knife alerts Anubis and Clegane-lite to Bruce and Alex’s location. They run – but Anubis has Bruce. Alex stops and looks back. Jim arrives in the nick of time, though, and shoots – telling Bruce and Alex to run.

Jim takes on Clegane and Anubis and beats both, tossing a bone out the window for Anubis, and stabbing Clegane with a tusk, I think.

Bruce is still on the ground, coughing and rubbing his throat. Jim looks at him

It’s time to tell me what going on

Excellent question, Detective

Ra’s approaches – and he has Alex, with a knife to his throat.

He tells Bruce to give him the knife and he’ll release Alex. He grins mockingly down at him

You'd like that

Alex cries silently. Jim reaches out a hand to Bruce

Bruce - hand me the knife

Bruce doesn’t move. Jim repeats it.

Bruce - hand me the knife

Bruce still doesn’t do it – and Jim stares incredulously. Bruce blurts out about Ra’s killing Alfred and bringing him back to life – and says that he can’t give it to him. Jim tells him to hand it over now so Alex will be safe – that’s all that matters.

I can’t

Ra’s smiles – well-pleased by his refusal.

Well done, Bruce. You’re finally beginning to see things clearly. The question is – are you strong enough?

He slits Alex’s throat. Bruce screams and rushes towards him, sobbing no. (Not sure what you expected here, Bruce – the terms were pretty clear).

Ra’s lets his knife (the non-magical one) fall and drops to his knees.

Arrest me.

At GCPD, Bruce is seated by a table, crying. Jim sits down alongside him and gently tells him Ra’s is at Blackgate. He adds that he is a psychopath, and Bruce is not responsible for his actions. Jim says he wants to help – but he needs something he can believe, not all the stuff with people coming back from the dead.

(An aside – has Jim forgotten Theo?)

Alfred snidely says perhaps Jim now understands why they held back. Bruce doesn’t care, though. He says it doesn't matter what they say – it’s all his fault. Alex is dead because of him.

I killed him

Ed barges into a seemingly empty Iceberg Lounge, yelling that he waited again, but Oswald didn’t show. He must be a coward.

Oswald walks into the room

I’m here. I may be many things, but I’m not a coward.

(An aside – I do love Oswald. He fucks up, and he does terrible things – but he’s more reflective than most, and open about who he is.)

He tells Ed his riddles suck – quoting one for good measure and telling him it simply describes a range of human behaviour.

(A random aside – Oswald’s limp looks particularly pronounced here. But then, it seems he’s been particularly busy – so presumably it’s worse when he’s tired)

Ed flails – but Oswald says that he can't make riddles to save his ass anymore. Myrtle was clearly right- there’s something wrong with him. He’s not smart anymore.

Ed says he is too smart: he’s the Riddler. Oswald rolls his eyes, and asks how long it took him to come up with those riddles – which turns out to be an embarrassing 6 hours. Oswald is incredulous – and asks if that sounds anything like the old him. Ed points out the damage might be due to being frozen in a block of ice. Does he want an apology, or something? He can whistle for that.

He aims a gun at Oswald as he walks away, and tells him he’s going to shoot him. Oswald tells him he can never truly have revenge on him – because he’s not the man he froze at the pier anymore, only some diminished version. That Ed would have killed himself before writing those riddles. In fact – he’s barely even Ed Nygma, because he’d have noticed something....

Ed frowns, confused

Doesn't it feel kind of chilly?

Victor Fries shoots the gun from Ed’s hand. Oswald asks if he’d forgotten

My other Victor

(Hoarding all the hot Victors is greedy, Oswald)

Oswald says he’s going to put him on ice again. Victor asks if he wants the same pose. Ed puts his hands up defensively.

Got it - same pose.

Ed hangs his head.

OK - Oswald. I'm not the Riddler. Just do it.

Oswald looks at him, considering.

I've changed my mind. I'm not going to freeze you. I’d only be freezing Ed Nygma, who cares about that? Better revenge is having you live knowing you’re not him - and never will be again.

He smiles, settled.

Goodbye Ed.

He walks away without a backward glance.

Ed’s been spared – but is still in turmoil – back to the question that continually gnaws at him, but worse now, with the loss of a crucial part of his identity.

Who am I?

Sofia is standing in front of the fireplace in an evening gown. She’s recounting another tale about her father. There’s a deliberate parallel here with how she played Oswald earlier that introduces a note of doubt into her interactions with Jim. Is Oswald the only one she’s fooling?

She was 7 or 8 when she saw her father stab a man in the neck in this room who had been on his knees before him, begging for forgiveness. The next morning, all the blood was gone, and they had breakfast at this table as though nothing had happened.

(An aside – I don’t know how they’ll develop the character, but given that she must have seen more than one terrible thing, there’s scope to make her an awful lot more unstable than she appears right now.)

She smiles.

You'd think I want to stay far away

But no – this house and the city are both in her veins. This is her home.

Jim comments that three of her father’s former associates have gone missing. She says that Oswald used her as bait (although if Sofia is as smart as she claims, then she presumably knew this was what he was up to from the outset).

Jim is still keen to dish out more blame, though

And you let him

Sofia doesn’t let Jim away with his usual bullshit projecting, though.

Don't act the innocent, Jim. You came to Carmine Falcone for help: you knew it was never going to be bloodless

Jim frowns. He says she’s presumably going to get close to Oswald, gain his confidence, but….

What then? I need to know what you're going to do

(An aside – This is the first time we see Jim seem uncertain about his scheme – seemingly squeamish about what Sofia’s eventual plans might be for Oswald. He’s been rash and thoughtless, and the lesson Bruce learned earlier might just be scratching at the back of his head. Oswald’s not an innocent by any stretch of the imagination – but Jim seemingly can’t actually bring himself to voice or accept the next logical step in Sofia’s plan – obvious as it might be: Oswald’s death.)

Sofia tells him that he doesn’t need to know. If he wants the city back from Oswald, then she can give him that – but he has to trust her.

(An aside – and exactly how dumb is Jim if he thinks that Sofia’s going to meekly hand Gotham back to him and trot off back home after this? This is just asinine).

For some reason, this motivates Jim to smash a glass and then push Sofia down onto the couch.

(An aside – I’m… kind of mystified by that bit. Was he just tense and angry and looking for a release? Was it an assertion of control? Was it a ploy to keep her unsure as to what he’ll do next – try and retain some power? The reason I’m asking is because there just wasn’t really enough heat or chemistry there to justify the sudden sex. If they’d been eyeing each other, and a definite indication of tension, then fair enough – but even Sofia looked startled by the sudden move.

Ra's is being led into Blackgate. He looks disgruntled until he gets close, and then we see him smile.

General Observations

A strong episode – especially after last week’s mish-mash of storylines.

Bruce has been arrogant of late, rushing headfirst into dangerous situations, and not really caring too much who got hurt in the process. He hasn’t seemed to mind about worrying Alfred, and he glibly implicated Selina in his rooftop escapades.

That all came screeching to a halt this week, though. He knowingly endangered both Alex and his grandfather in his need to learn more about the knife. Even seeing the Dr Winthrop cold and blue on the museum floor wasn’t enough to deter him. Jim can try to make him feel better by saying that Ra’s is responsible for what happened – but that’s cold comfort to Bruce, because he knows he made the conscious choice that the knife was more important than Alex’s life.

Hard to say where he’ll go from this point. He’ll presumably carry on – now feeling a sense of mission, that he owes it to Alex and his grandfather – but probably a bit more chastened and conscious of repercussions.

Jim is due a similar chastening. When he and Sofia talk at the end of the episode, the blame for the death of Falcone’s three associates might be variously assigned to Oswald or Sofia – but it’s really Jim who has blood on his hands. Sofia essentially says as much: Jim knew what he was going to get when he went to see Falcone, and he doesn’t get to act the innocent here.

Jim assumes that Sofia is going to win Oswald’s confidence, but wants to know what will happen next. The logical answer, of course, is that she would kill Oswald and take power. The fact that Jim is asking at all – I think – points to his first real misgivings. His confrontations with Oswald so far have been noticeably childish, squabbling over who is seen as the protector of the city. I don’t think that quite translates to wanting him dead, and I think that might prove to be a sticking point later on.

Or maybe I’m just a hopeless shipper….. :D

Sofia’s hard to read. We’re in on the fact that she’s playing Oswald. We’re not quite so clear as to what extent she’s playing Jim. She told them both exactly the same thing: she belongs in Gotham, it’s her home, in her blood. She gave them both little anecdotes about her father. Both ended up letting her off the hook – albeit temporarily.

It’s interesting to wonder what shape her revenge might take – if that’s what she wants. I’d say that getting Jim to do what Falcone couldn’t – put a bullet in Oswald’s head and become her GCPD stooge - might be a fair shout, but we’ll see.

I’m also interested to see exactly how stable she is. Who knows exactly what she witnessed growing up.

Oswald’s most important storyline this week was really his first interaction with Sofia. His interactions with Ed were more about drawing a line under that aspect of their storyline. It was mostly played for laughs, and was drained of a lot of the angst and noise of s3.

Not putting Ed back on ice really served two purposes. First, yes – it is a much more perfect revenge. Ed’s sense of who he is is something that troubles him at the best of times. Now that he’s lost his defining characteristic – his distress and confusion is acute. Secondly – it provides closure. Keeping him on ice was metaphorical as well as literal: a state of endless limbo. Oswald doesn’t need that anymore, and it was interesting that he walked away without even a backward glance.

As for his conversations with Sofia – it’s hard to tell how successful her many ruses are. There are a few moments where he looks at her very hard. I suspect she’ll gain the upper hand, mostly because ‘Oswald fails due to hubris’ basically seems to be a pattern now – but hopefully they’ll try to keep it even-handed and ambiguous up until that point. Partly because it’s entertaining, but also because – come on – Oswald worked for Fish Mooney. I’m not buying that he’d fall hook, line and sinker for this. He’s smarter than that.

Thoughts?

#gotham commentary #gotham s4e04 #the demon's head

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