#SHE ALREADY HAS TRAUMA WITH BEING IN THE HOSPITAL AFTER BEING FORCED TO CHANNEL A SPIRIT SHE OTHERWISE WOULDNT WANT TO
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ISNT SHE IN THE HOSPITAL?
#CAN WE STOP DOING THIS TO HER#SHE ALREADY HAS TRAUMA WITH BEING IN THE HOSPITAL AFTER BEING FORCED TO CHANNEL A SPIRIT SHE OTHERWISE WOULDNT WANT TO#STOPPPPPPPP#//#echo's aa liveblog#echo screams#aa spoilers#echo plays spirit of justice#aa6 spoilers
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broken (part 2).
san x reader
word count: 12k
angst, fluff (tw: mentions of domestic abuse and rape)
(part 1)
no matter how many times you tried to change your thinking patterns, you still classified your life into two parts: before the abuse and after.
you thought, after watching your ex-boyfriend being escorted out of the courtroom with a one-year prison sentence, that you wouldn’t be scared of him anymore.
you thought that moving out of the house and living in your new apartment would make day to day life easier, not needing to see the floor you were beaten on or counter you were forced to have sex on every day.
you thought that having san would make you feel happy and loved and enough. that having a whole new family unit consisting of seven other crazy boys and a crotchety old lady would be enough.
but as you sit curled up on the bathroom floor with tears in your eyes, you’re seeing you severely underestimated everything.
underestimated just how much trauma you still had to sort through and how badly that asshole really did mess you up.
six months ago:
“so we have the surveillance footage and witness testimony from your neighbors,” your lawyer explains gently, an older woman with kind eyes and soft-spoken voice that quickly transforms in the courtroom.
“but a personal statement, if you feel comfortable, would probably guarantee the harshest sentence.”
the harshest sentence being one year, a measly 365 days compared to the 1,825 he subjected you to every kind of abuse: sexual, emotional, mental, physical.
hitting and grabbing and slapping until your skin was littered with bruises and cuts.
talking so harshly to you that you believed dying was the best option, stripping you from any sort of confidence or self-esteem you once had.
making you feel completely inept and useless, solely viewing you as a piece of property he could boss around and use at his disposal.
you had left the office with shaking hands and a pounding heart, barely being able to dial san’s number before he answered after one ring.
this was the first appointment you’ve went to without him, insisting he can’t and won’t miss his midterm for this.
“hi, love. everything go okay?” he asks softly, with the sweet gentle voice that has quite literally kept you alive these past few months.
you don’t know what you did in another life to deserve san but you know that without him, you probably wouldn’t have made it this far. without his constant support and sweet reassurances, you wouldn’t have believed you could ever do this.
willingly tell police officers and lawyers about what happened to you, break down and expose yourself in such a way that always made you feel weak and pathetic.
admit aloud that, yes, you’ve been a victim of abuse and no, those bruises and scars on your body aren’t from clumsy falls into the wall or cabinet.
without him, accompanying you to the police station or lawyer’s office, where you knew jungkook was lingering, you would’ve never felt safe.
you would’ve broke down and took it all back, told them that you made it all up and to release him because he didn’t do anything wrong.
but he did so much wrong and you and san know that. the police and lawyers and judges know it too, several outbursts from the man in court and at the station proving that.
it’s what makes the thought of a personal statement so hard, having to look your ex-boyfriend in the face and watch him stare you down with not an ounce of remorse or sorrow.
san must know it too, if your silence through the phone tells him anything, and you can already hear shuffling in the background as he prepares to leave his class and head to your apartment.
“are you done with your test?” you ask first, voice sweet but mousy in a way that makes san’s stomach sink
he knew today was gonna be rough for you, he knew he should’ve asked his professor to retake the midterm next week.
“yes,” the boy answers immediately, knowing he’s about to run back into the classroom, circle c for the last three answers and haul ass to his car.
“san, are you-”
“i was done, it’s fine, y/n,” he confirms gently, feet moving and body desperate to rush toward your apartment.
because he knows after all of this time, you’ve learned to hold back your pain and suffering. years of practice and keeping tears at bay that he’s noticed have made these months difficult for you two.
and he hates knowing that you still wait till you’re alone to cry.
that even though every time you do, he wipes away every tear and holds you to his chest until you fall asleep, you still feel most comfortable being sad alone.
that you’re probably already home now, about to bury your face in a pillow and sob until you hear his car and wipe your cheeks clean like nothing is wrong.
but there’s a lot wrong.
a lot wrong with how you’ve been treated and how hard it is to move past it.
a lot wrong with the legal system that makes this painful journey even more exhausting, forcing you to recount memory after memory and answer question after question about the worst ordeals of your life.
that’s why san can’t help but turn in his test and rush out the door to his car, speeding off campus and onto the highway in hot pursuit of your apartment above the bakery.
it had seemed like perfect little place to get you back on your feet, the smell of freshly baked bread and pleasant bustle of regulars greeting you in the early morning hours.
there was no commute for you, just a walk down the stairs and through the yellow door of the bakery, where simple work waited for you.
“you just need to ring up the customers and maybe clean a table or two. most people take their things to go,” your boss had told you, a divorced mother of three who spent most of her life baking before she was finally able to open up a place of her own.
it was simple work but it was more than you’d done in years, something as little as small talk with regulars successfully draining you. filling you with a nervousness and fear that you’re still feeling even without your ex’s presence.
but it’s in the way a man yells on the phone about a business deal going sour while waiting for his morning coffee.
a woman chastising her kids saying that they won’t get to eat the cookies she’s buying after dinner.
the slam of the door when a harsh gust of wind howls from outside and rattles the small bakery with light blue walls and pictures of bread and desserts.
you don’t know how many coffees you’ve spilt or plates you’ve broken from jumping at the harsh sounds, realizing little by little how hard this transition was gonna be.
even with san and his friends and your boss and the crazy old lady who secured this new life for you in the first place, it’s still hard.
you can’t even imagine doing all of these new things alone, just living in such a simple way that the average person takes for granted.
but you suppose it’s not all simple yet, going back and forth between meetings with your lawyer and the police for the court date that’s rapidly approaching.
you can feel that the closer it comes, the harder it is to breathe.
the mere thought of seeing the man who hurt you for the longest five years of your life, sitting in front of you with not an ounce of remorse on his face. making this process even harder because how are you supposed to talk in front of him?
see clear as day that you’re not safe and you never will be.
that he’s gonna get out in a year, because that’s the harshest sentence possible without you being hospitalized or dead, and hurt you again. he’s never gonna stop hurting you because he always said you were his and he wouldn’t ever hesitate to-
you don’t even hear the jingle of san’s keys opening the front door or his softly spoken call of your name.
you’re only aware of his presence when you feel his warm, small hands cup your face, his thumbs rubbing over your wet, salty skin as he mutters your name lowly.
“hey, i’m here, i’m here,” he mumbles sweetly, tone soft and gentle the way it always is no matter what the circumstances are.
he plops down on the couch before pulling you into his lap, his hand rubbing up and down your back gently. you hear the quiet but firm “sh, sh, sh,” against your head, the sharp calming hums always in threes as an attempt to ground you.
you try to focus on his calming sounds and even breaths, the hand on your back so warm and gentle as he lulls your panicked body into a calmer state.
you bury your face in his chest and breathe in his scent, cologne and detergent mixed with his natural scent that lingers on your pillow every morning.
“i-i’m sorry.”
the words make his stomach plummet, tears burning his eyes because you never have anything to be sorry for. you never have anything to be sorry for and you say it all the time.
when you bump into him in the kitchen while making food together.
when you sit on the remote and change the channel by accident.
when you burnt the cookies one night and made the fire alarm go off.
he remembers that being one of the worse nights, the loud noises making you jump while also flinching away when he lifted his arm up to fan away the smoke. and then you immediately apologized again, cookies long forgotten before he grabbed your hand and led you into the living room.
he just held your hand as you both watched tv, his thumb rubbing over your skin before you spoke words so quietly, he almost missed them.
“i wish...i would stop doing that.”
he cranes his neck over to look at you, eyebrow raised and eyes soft as he looks at you questioningly.
he wants to tease and say that you’ve never burnt the cookies before but anytime you feel comfortable enough to talk to him like this, he never wants to say the wrong thing.
“i...i know you would never hurt me,“ you continue after a few moments. “and i know i’m just...scared easily, i guess. but it makes me feel bad,” you admit quietly, heart pulling in your chest as you look at the man beside you.
he has gotten you through the hardest times of your life, has been by your side every step of the way with no questions or complaints, and you haven’t been able to repay him.
not even with a plate of fucking cookies.
“you don’t have to feel bad, y/n,” san says gently, his hand reaching out slowly to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear.
your eyes close at his feather light touch and the way it makes your heart jump, his fingers lingering on you in a way that makes you feel so safe and content.
“and i know it’s hard to believe still but you have nothing to be scared of either. i’m not gonna let anyone hurt you again and i mean that.”
“but i feel like i’m hurting you,” you mumble softly, pulling your knees up as you rest your head on the couch cushion. his brows pull together as his eyes roam your face, a pout on his lips the more he looks at you in silence.
“you’ve helped me so much and i just...” tears fill your eyes as you struggle to find the words and breathe. you’ve only been living in your new house for two months now and almost every day, san has been here.
bringing you food, helping you clean and decorate, spending late nights with you watching movies, helping you through an inevitable fit of panic when your memories and life become too much.
he makes it easier to breathe and you’re scared that without him, you’re gonna stop one day.
“i just keep... taking from you. you get nothing out of helping me but you still do it anyway and i...you shouldn’t even bother, san. i-i’m not worth this time and i just want you to-”
“stop.”
he tries to keep the anger out of his voice knowing that all of this is what you’ve been told. you’ve been told your whole life that you weren’t enough, were only deemed worthy by a piece of shit who did nothing but hurt and berate you.
but it doesn’t make it any less hard to hear. to hear in your voice and see in your eyes that you truly believe you’re not worth the time he wants to put into you.
“you’re worth the time to me,” he says, voice gentle but firm in a way that makes a lump form in your throat. his finger reaches out to trace small circles on your hand, your eyes following it so he doesn’t see the tears building up.
“i like seeing you happy, y/n. and i wanna help you.”
your teary eyes meet his and you swallow the growing lump in your throat when you see the look on his face, soft and sweet in a way you still can’t believe is directed toward you.
“i feel like i need a lot of help,” you mutter, voice barely above a whisper as you think back to how day to day life is so challenging and draining.
the loud voices and the screaming kids and banging door that sends you into a panic. the broken dishes and tear stains on your pillow that are there more often than not after san leaves every night.
but san’s hearing each and every word right now, his heart panging in his chest at how vulnerable you are right now. how you let him see this side of you and continue to despite how hard he knows everything’s been.
“that’s okay,” he smiles softly, stopping the circles on your hand to intertwine your fingers. “i’m gonna be here as long as you need me, okay?”
you look up to meet his gaze and feel a tear slip down your cheek, a cry bubbling in your throat that you so desperately wanna let out.
but you also don’t wanna make san any more sad tonight, biting down on your lip as you nod your head before leaning on his shoulder.
you don’t see the smile that crosses his face or hear the content sigh that leaves him, his hand in yours and presence enough to lull you into a dreamless sleep.
“you have nothing to be sorry for,” he assures you quietly, looking over your face as he wipes at your cheeks. you meet his gaze and your eyes stay locked on one another, his thumb gentle and soft across your skin.
“did you do good on your test?” you squeak out after a few moments of silence, a smile breaking out across his face.
“of course i did, we studied all night, didn’t we?” he teases, referring to just last night when you helped him with index cards and read them all to him twice before promptly passing out on his chest.
a blush crosses your face as you look down in embarrassment, a sweet high pitched laugh bubbling out of him.
“it’s okay, don’t be embarrassed. your drool only ruined a few of them.”
“i don’t drool,” you mutter, a small smile on san’s face as he tightens his hold on you in his lap.
“did you eat yet?”
you shake your head as indistinguishable mumble leaves your mouth, curling yourself into his chest more as his warmth and comforting scent envelop you.
his lips brush against your hair in a small smile, quietly asking what you wanna eat even though he knows you’re gonna say you don’t care.
“whatever you want,” you mutter against him, the exhaustion of waking up at 5 am and the draining meeting with your lawyer catching up to you.
and san knows on days like these that chinese food and watching reruns of old cartoons is usually the thing you need to feel a little bit better.
pretend that just for a few hours, everything is okay and there’s nothing more pressing than spending the night together in what always turns into having a sleepover.
because just as you found it difficult to live in that house you once shared with jungkook, san finds it difficult to go back to that block every night.
stay just a few houses away from where he’s reminded of how you were treated while he was just a few feet away.
watching as the backyard once full of flowers becomes dull and colorless and every window reminds him of what was truly going on behind the walls of that house.
it’s one of the reasons why staying with you just makes sense. that and the fact that leaving you always proves to be the hardest part of the night together.
you with a pout and sad eyes quietly whining for him to stay and him being completely powerless as he throws himself down next to you and wraps his arms around your waist.
he’s not surprised when the same thing happens tonight, your eyes drooping and body slacking against him before he quietly asks if he should get going. you look up at him tiredly, eyebrows pulled together and one cheek red from you leaning on his chest in a way that makes him hold back a smirk.
“no,” you say quietly, your eyes roaming his face before you quickly realize he might want to leave you. the thought rips a pang of hurt through your chest but you can’t help but feel that might be the case.
you ripped him away from his test and cried on him all night. why would he wanna stay with you?
“unless you want to. i-i don’t wanna force you to stay here if you don’t-”
“of course i want to,” san responds, taking your face in his hands gently and allowing his thumb to run along your soft skin. “i was just checking.”
because he also never wants to overstep. make you feel too overwhelmed or smothered since if it were up to him, he’d never leave your side again.
his words and touch send relief through you, the panic and fear that attempted to break through quickly dying it. everything about him makes it so easy to be calm and comforted, a smile making it’s way on your face as you nod.
you place your head back on his chest, sighing contently when you feel his arm wrap around your shoulder a few moments later. you stare at the tv blankly, not sure how long you’re lost in thought about the conversation at the lawyer’s office.
“but a personal statement, if you feel comfortable, would probably guarantee the harshest sentence.”
could you really do that though? strip yourself to the most vulnerable degree and proclaim to a courtroom full of people how weak and defenseless you were for five years? how the man who’s gonna be seated just a few feet away over you had that much power over you?
would you feel better looking jungkook in the face and telling him that you’re gonna be strong and come out okay? that he won’t be able to hurt you anymore and will rot behind a cell for what he’s done?
or would you it make you feel worse? seeing him again and the blankness behind his eyes. the pity and sorrowful looks on the judge and court officers when your voice shakes and eyes brim with tears as you recall your old life.
you’re not even sure if san is awake at this point, his arm heavy around you and breaths even under your head but you can’t seem to stop your tired self from speaking.
“my lawyer suggested i make a personal statement.”
san doesn’t stutter under you, the only sign of him being awake when he hums lowly and gently pulls away from you. the bed dips next to you when he lays on his side, your eyes meeting just as he reaches out to smooth out a messy strand of hair.
“yeah?” he mumbles lowly, his soft eyes roaming your face. “how do you feel about that?”
the question, despite the serious tension in leaves in the air, makes you smile softly, remembering when your lawyer recommended counseling, you thought back to san waiting in the car and felt as if you already had all the support you needed.
he has the most patience and kindness of anyone you’ve ever met before and you can’t imagine trusting someone as much as trust him. have someone else hear you this vulnerable and genuine, see you cry and feel all the emotions that come with rebuilding your life after being a victim of domestic violence.
“i don’t know if i can do it.”
the words make san frown, holding himself up on his elbow as he looks over your face with concern. he can tell you’re tired, eyes hazy and drooping but he also can tell your mind’s been preoccupied.
more so than usual.
“i...i don’t know if i could do it with him there.”
“he’s not gonna hurt you anymore,” san reminds you gently, his hand creeping down in between your bodies to take ahold of yours. it’s soft and small and warm and everything about it makes you feel safe.
“i-i know. but...just him being there. watching me and hearing me say what he’s done when i know he has no remorse. and then telling more people how i let it go on for so long and-”
“you didn’t let anything go on for too long. it wasn’t your fault. y/n.”
tears burn your eyes as a lump forms in your throat, hearing those words from almost everyone in your life but still not having the ability to grasp it.
it feels like your fault, it feels like you’ve allowed yourself to be treated in a way you knew was wrong for far too long.
because now look at you. trying to rebuild your life but being panicked when the wind howls just a little too loudly outside.
you take a few deep calming breaks and swallow as you look at him, eyes hazy and glossy and threatening to close shut; you’re so tired but it’s like your brain never stops going these days.
“she said...it’d guarantee the harshest sentence. but shouldn’t the evidence be enough? the tapes and the witnesses? why- why do i have to keep going through this?” you whisper, voice shaky and tears building as you look at him. the sight alone makes san stomach sink, rolling his tongue between his lips anxiously.
“i just want it to be over. i don’t wanna keep recounting what happened over and over and over again. i... it’s so hard, san. it’s so hard and i feel like i can’t do it anym-”
your words break off as a quiet whimper leaves your mouth, crumbling against san’s body when he pulls you forward and wraps his arms around you. your head falls in the crook of his neck as his hand rests on the back of your head, breathing slowly and evenly as quiet hums leave his mouth.
“I know, baby,” san mumbles, his lips against your head as he presses a kiss to your hair. “you don’t have to do anything you don’t wanna do, okay? no one can make you do anything.”
"you're hurting me, jungkook," your broken voice tells him, the cracks and pain behind it familiar to even your own ears.
you don't know how many times you've heard yourself like this. so desperate and defeated.
"i wish i didn't have to, babydoll," he says lowly, "but you never listen. you make me do this."
and you don’t even think about if you’re gonna regret it at the time. not use your own voice and speak up in front of the courtroom about what the man on trial did.
you can only think about his eyes watching you, your friends hearing your voice quiver and shake, the judge maybe not taking your words into account. it all seems too much right now, the crushing weight of anxiety and fear that’s making you feel too weak to do that.
“you made it this far. and it’s almost all over, okay?” san reassures, his hand stroking your hair as he tries to calm your cries. “if you wanna do it, i’ll be right there next to you. we’ll all be there for you and you’ll be safe the whole time. but if you don’t, that’s okay too. you don’t have to and everything will still be okay.”
and because it’s like the blonde just knows everything when it comes to you, everything is okay - or as okay as things can be under these circumstances.
your lawyer didn’t bat an eye when you told her you weren’t sure if you could do a personal statement, her hand on your shoulder as she gently tells you that it’s okay. that the harshest sentence would probably still be given, considering the unusual amount of evidence in a case like this.
you watched jungkook get taken out of court with a one year sentence, thrashing in handcuffs and cursing at you while you gripped san’s hand tightly.
you had foolishly thought watching that was gonna somehow heal you immediately.
no longer make you afraid or flinch at the smallest of sounds or movements, make you feel like now you can take san’s words to heart and feel worthy of the love he showered you with.
but it was with that love, you started to grow too dependent. let it consume you in a whole new way that made you feel like without san, you couldn’t breathe.
at first, he didn’t know what had triggered the episodes that followed three months after the trial.
it had seemed as if you were making a lot of progress over the past few months, truly happy and smiley without an ounce of fear in your eyes that had always seemed to linger.
you were working hard at the bakery, becoming closer with the regulars and even finding it easier to talk with them. they found you comforting and sweet, always greeting them with a warm smile and remembering how many sugars they got with their morning coffee.
the same warm smile you gave san when he told you he was visiting his parents for his mom’s birthday one weekend, sending him off with a loaf of bread and an array of cookies.
“don’t eat them all,” you teased lightly, side-eyeing mingi who was one of your many regulars and could also take your advice as he shovels rainbow cookies in his mouth.
“i won’t,” san smiles gently, looking in mingi’s direction and holding back a laugh upon seeing the boy.
he was probably the next closest person you came to trust since you all got to know each other, a soft spot for him ever since the moment he deemed sunflowers ‘sunnies’ during the darker times.
mingi was the happiness and innocence you think you must have had once. finding the good in everything and being happy just because the sun was out and dessert was on the table.
“and neither should you,” san chastises the younger boy, smacking him in the back of the head lightly. you smile softly at the exchange, holding back a snort as you clean off the table next to the bickering boys.
the arm around your waist a few moments later would’ve startled you had you not smelt san’s cologne, leaning into him and feeling grateful you’re the only three in the store right now.
you look over your shoulder and smile softly at him, heart stuttering at the look on his face. eyes full of such concern, you should know he’s about to ask you if you’re-
“are you gonna be okay tonight?”
he wasn’t ignorant of the fact, the same way you weren’t, that this is gonna be one the first nights you’ve spent alone in months.
not falling asleep to the gentle lull of his breathing or his arms around your waist. no one to be there if you wake up from a nightmare, where memories torment your body as you hear the shouts of your ex and feel as if your body is still being bruised.
san not being there to wake you with a gentle peck on the cheek before dragging you back to the warm bed when you try to get up for work.
but you have to be okay, right? you’ve been doing so good these past few weeks. and you’re an adult the same way he’s an adult, it’s ridiculous to think you guys would have to spend every night together.
“of course, silly” you poke him gently, smiling when his dimples poke out of his cheeks. “have fun with your parents. don’t worry about me.”
“i always worry about you,” he mumbles lowly, his lips ghosting over your hair as you push his chest lightly. he bites back a smile when he sees the blush on your cheeks, pulling away from him immediately so you can stick your tongue out at him.
and that night, it actually feels as if you’re okay.
you busy yourself by cleaning and cooking before passing out to the vampire diaries. your sleep is dreamless and calm, waking up to a good morning message from san consisting of a bare-faced, messy-haired selfie.
but a few days after his return is when he began to notice the little changes.
behaviors he thinks you weren’t even aware of that made his heart sink into his stomach; it reminded him so much of the first few weeks you were away from jungkook.
how despite the fear in your eyes, you clung to him because you knew he’d never hurt you. felt safe in his presence and sought him out when you were feeling uncomfortable or upset.
and he sees you’re back to the place right now, so obviously uneasy and upset despite the major progress you’ve been making.
it was like the second he came through the door, you had to be by his side. leaning your head on his shoulder as you watched your shows or grabbing his hand when he got up to go to the bathroom.
at first, he thought it was cute - your clinginess and obvious affection toward him. he thought it was sweet and it made him so happy, smiling softly and kissing the top of your head as he told you he’d be back in a minute.
but the more the weeks went on, the worse it was seeming to get.
you asking him after only a few hours of him at school when he was gonna be back. nightmares and bad memories haunting you when you’d fall asleep for naps in between your shift ending and his last class.
“baby... are you sure you’re okay these days?”
the words cause you to stop stirring the pasta in the pot, craning your neck to where san is sitting on the countertop.
he meets your gaze with a soft smile and extends his hand out to you, leaning down to press a kiss to your nose before pulling you up.
you squeal at the sensation, giggling quietly because there you two are just perched on the counter like two cats and no regard for the boiling pot of food beside you.
you giggle again when he places a kiss to your neck, tightening his hold around your waist.
he relishes in the sound of your laugh because it also seems like these days, he’s hasn’t heard it that much.
“i feel like i haven’t heard that in a while,” he mumbles against your neck, his lips lingering on your skin. he never wants to say the wrong thing with you or make you feel like you’re not doing good enough.
you pull back and look at him with a small pout, your fingers toying at the end of his shirt nervously.
“i...i’m okay though,” you tell him quietly, thinking it’s the truth even though you have felt off these days.
you didn’t know what it was though honestly. it’s felt like ever since san came back from his parents, you’ve needed him extra. clingy and needy and annoying in the sense that the poor man can’t even go away without you needing him.
and now he seems to know it, too.
maybe he doesn’t wanna do this anymore. maybe he didn’t sign up for months of you going back and forth, feeling great and confident one week and then back to being clingy and scared the next.
because you know it’s only a matter of time before two things happens: he gets sick of you and leaves or starts resenting you. doesn’t wanna waste his time with a battered woman when he could be wth fun and carefree college girls.
“have i been annoying?”
your blurted out question throws him off as much as it breaks his heart, immediately shaking his head as he cups your cheeks.
his lips fall into a pout and your eyes immediately fall to them, about to comment on it before he places a sweet, short peck on yours.
you two, despite your close and intimate relationship full of skin-ship, don’t kiss a lot. you can only count of one hand how many times san has kissed you on the lips, most of the time going for your cheek or head.
but you certainly don’t mind.
you think it’s good to take it slow, since everything else about your relationship is so intense. that’s why the times he does kiss you, you get filled with such a happy warm feeling that usually makes you feel better no matter what.
that’s how you know you’re not right. that suddenly, for some reason, you’re not okay again despite being so incredibly lucky that the people in you life now care about you.
they’re trying so hard to help you and it feels like you can’t repay them in any way.
“no, no, baby, not at all,” san says when he pulls back, his thumb gently rubbing your cheek. “i’m just concerned.”
the lump in your throat makes it feel like you can’t breathe, biting your lip harshly as you look up at the blonde.
“i love that you want me around,” he continues softly, his voice barely above a whisper as he looks down at you. “but i’m just...i also wanna make sure you’re okay.”
you nod your head as you take in his words, slightly calmed by them despite the way your mind is trying to tell you otherwise.
he loves that you want him around, he just said so. and he wouldn’t put up with you if he didn’t want to, right?
“i’m okay,” you assure sweetly, leaning into his touch just a little bit more. “i guess i just missed you.”
your cheeks flush at the soft, almost touched look that crosses san’s face, his lips falling into a pout as he tightens his hold on you.
“i missed you too.”
boiling liquid splashing onto the stove causes you both to look away, a squeal leaving your mouth as the foamy water overflows the pot.
“shit!” you squeal, jumping down from the counter to rush over and lower the heat. san watches from his spot with a small smile, chuckling lightly when you throw him a look.
“sorry,” he says sheepishly, a playful roll of your eyes causing him to jump down and hug you from behind.
he presses small kisses and laughs into the crook of your neck as you finish making the pasta, feeding him pieces from the pot to see if it’s cooked enough.
you eat on the couch and spend the rest of the night watching tv, a relatively calm and relaxed night that makes you feel much better than the past few days.
you think you just got so used to his presence, the comfort and warmth and light he provides by just being in your apartment and smiling at you.
you were scared by how attached you’d grown to him, depending on him in a way you think a person who has gone through what you’ve gone through shouldn’t.
but he’s so good and makes you feel loved. it’s such a different feeling than one you’ve ever experienced, after your family and friends and ex-boyfriend let you down time and time again.
you’ve never had someone like this before but you’ve also never tried to rebuild your life before. never had the chance to be your own person and make your own decisions - it’s something you’re still learning and that’s evident to everyone in your life.
but the next morning, a pleasant surprise in the form of mrs. kim comes bursting through the door and immediately lights your face with a smile; apart from san and mingi, she’s another person you’ve grown extremely close and fond of.
she’s the one who made everything possible, rebuilding your life with a new home and workplace. it’s why she always tries to push you further out of your comfort zone and into the real world with gentle prodding and much needed assurance.
she’s at the bakery for almost two hours before she pulls up a chair behind the register and gets that look in her eye you know all too well. it’s the look she gave you the day you accepted the apartment, insisting you take it and make it your own and to not even think about how to pay her back.
the look she gave you before the trial as she gave you strength, told you that you were strong and you were gonna get through this, with or without your personal statement.
and apparently it’s the look she gives you when she broaches the topic of you enrolling back in school.
“so what do you think?” she asks, tone carefree and excited like she’d been thinking about this for weeks. “is that something you’d wanna do?”
your immediate thought is yes. yes, yes, yes shout it from the rooftops yes. you miss school and learning and all the experiences that come with getting an education.
you once loved school and had so many aspirations but then your life apart. the prospect of an education or getting a job was dangled in your face as some sort of manipulation tactic.
that when jungkook went too far and left you especially bloody and bruised, he’d mentioned school like it was the answer to all of your problems as a couple. like that was his penance and would win him boyfriend of the year.
and mrs. kim must see the haunted look in your eye, replaying flashbacks and memories from how choices like that weren’t under your control for the longest time.
“listen to me, stop staying in there,” she says, flicking at your head and making you wince. “is that something you wanna do? yes or no?”
“yes but i-”
“but nothing,” the old lady says, wiping out an ipad the boys had been teaching her how to use for the past few weeks; the font is the biggest size you’ve ever seen and has a cat case on that almost makes you burst out laughing upon seeing.
“i was looking at the local school, it’s close and cheap but you could always get some financial aid, scholarships or even a loan,” she begins to tell you, eyes squinted and a wrinkle between her browns as she taps on the screen. “this shit is so hard, i’m still trying to learn. oh, great here it is, okay. look, they even have this major.”
you had mentioned once that you thought about a career in journalism to her, one night when you and her were making cookies in her house as the boys tended to her garden (because they were gardeners now, official, professional gardeners who only know how to plant sunflowers).
tears almost immediately fill in your eyes as you follow her pruny finger, licking over your lips so you don’t start sobbing.
she looks up at you after a few moments of silence and it’s promptly followed by her smacking your arm, a scoff leaving her mouth that makes you giggle.
“what are you crying about?”
the emotion clogged in your throat makes it hard to speak, attempting to talk through the strange contrast of tears and laughter bubbling in your throat.
“i just... i can’t believe you remember i told you that. it was so long ago.”
“what? you think because i’m old i don’t remember shit? i’m not a senile, y/n, jesus.”
a wet giggle leaves your mouth as you listen to her talk about the research she’s done, about how to pay and when you can start and her son’s experience at the local college.
it all makes you feel very hopeful, excited even, as you think about what once seemed impossible.
getting out in the world and pursuing a passion you as an individual had. making connections and just conversing with different people and seeing relationships form.
but all of those doubts and fears instilled in you don’t just go away.
you remember months back when you told san you were writing again, he was the one who recommended going back to school.
was so happy about it that his eyes were shining and dimples were out and you’d never seen someone more handsome.
but now that you guys are...kind of together, would his mind change? does he not want you talking to other people either now? will he think it’s silly or pointless, since you already have you job at the bakery?
you know deep down that that’s not the kind of person san is. you knew from the moment you met him and risked talking and smiling and laughing with him that he was good.
but that part of you still scared and broken from what you went through, the prospect of school and freedom dangled in your face as some sort of reward or apology, is scared he won’t approve.
and whether it’s unhealthy or not, all you want is san’s approval.
“c-can i ask you something?” you ask him later that night, both of you cuddled up on the couch.
a blanket’s thrown over your lap with san’s arm around your shoulder, your head now off his chest as you look up at him questioningly.
he immediately looks down at you with a soft, curious expression, running his hand through your hair as a small smile makes it’s way on his face.
“anything,” he hums lowly, already making your nervous body feel slightly more calm.
you have to try and always remember this is the boy who’s been by your side for months, with no complaints. who saved you from your life before this and only wants you to be safe and happy.
“i was talking to miss kim earlier today...” you begin, his interest already peeked because he thinks he might know where this is going; he was suspicious ever since the older woman asked him how to make the font larger on her ipad.
he sees the slight apprehension and fear in your eyes so he takes your hand in his, running his thumb over your skin gently and giving you a small, encouraging nod.
you take a deep breath and try to shake the worry off, opening and closing your mouth before deciding to spit it out.
“we...were talking about me going back to school. and i...kind of thought that would be something good for me to do. i used to love school and learning and mrs kim. said there’s a lot of things i could do to pay for it and stuff, if i needed to...”
his chest hurts slightly watching you stammer over your words nervously, your eyes moving from him to the wall as you start to unconsciously hold his hand tighter.
“but if you don’t want me to or think it’s a stupid idea, i won’t. i just...wanted to make sure it was okay with you.”
you don’t see the way san sits there in contemplation as you’re too nervous and toying with the edge of the blanket, his face sympathetic but also a little surprised.
there’s a lot of things that san is still getting used to, the way you’re so vulnerable and attached to him (in a way he doesn’t mind at all).
but it’s like right now he’s seeing the severity of it, watching as a grown woman asks for his permission for something she absolutely doesn’t.
it makes tears burn the back of his eyes but he quickly pushes the sensation and desire away, his hand lifting your chin so you made his gaze head-on.
“y/n...you don’t need my permission to do anything. you... you know that, right?”
your eyebrows pull together almost in confusion that he didn’t immediately respond with a yes or no, head cocked to that side as you lick over your lips nervously.
he can’t help but think if this was a fault on his part. did he make you feel like you have to ask his permission or approval for things? did he maybe at any point make you feel scared or judged when he’s been doing his best to avoid that?
your harsh grip on his hand brings him back to the conclusion that, right now, this isn’t about him.
whether he did that or not, he has to make sure right now that you know you’re your own person and don’t need to run decisions by him or anyone else.
“baby, i think it’s great you wanna do that and will support whatever you wanna do. but you don’t have to ask for...my permission to do anything,” san tells you softly, his hand cupping your face as he presses a kiss to your head; the words ‘his permission’ even feel gross on his tongue.
“i’m happy if you’re happy. and if going to school will make you happy, i’m gonna be supportive 100%. you got it, love?”
you don’t even know why you’re surprised by san’s reaction but it still brings tears to your eyes, only being able to nod before you bury your face in his chest.
he bites back a smile at the feel of you against him, running his hand up your back to gently rest in your hair.
“you still wanna study journalism?” he mumbles against your hair and again, you can only nod so you don’t let out the whimper threatening to leave you mouth.
because it still shocks you day after day that everyone in your life now truly seems to care.
they remember things about you and want to see you smile, always remind you that you can do whatever you want and are slowly making you see that, maybe, you will be okay in the end.
it may not seem like a lot to someone who’s been lucky enough to have these things but, for you, it’s something you haven’t ever had before.
the ability to giggle and smile and spend your night with someone who you can see really, truly loves you. who wouldn’t do anything to hurt you and always has your best interests in mind.
that’s exactly why when you fall asleep, san can’t help but turn to look at your sleeping form. he runs his hand through your messy hair, moving a strand from your face and feeling his heart lurch at how peaceful and innocent you look.
he still can’t get the thoughts out of his heads from earlier, wondering if, maybe, this whole time, he hasn’t been doing the right thing.
maybe these past few months, you should’ve been rebuilding your life on your own. he shouldn’t have been here every, single step of the way to sooth and coddle and protect you.
it was something hongjoong said just a few weeks after you moved in and he nearly attacked the boy, asking how he could let you cry alone every night and feel lonely and scared in a new place?
but he also knows that hongjoong is more logical than him. he’s always let his emotions get to him, empathetic and caring almost to a fault.
and with you, he was always even more clouded.
now, though, he’s seeing that maybe hongjoong has a point. he’s seen it in the way you’ve become more clingy and dependent on him, something he loves and makes him feel warm but also knows, for you, is a part of feeling safe.
and as hard as it is for him to admit, he knows you need to feel safe without him. slowly rebuild your own sense of self and security without him always being there to wipe your tears or kiss your face.
but how is supposed to do that? he thinks, watching your sleeping face with a pained chest and burning eyes.
he’s about to get up to get a glass of water before he hears you whine, both his feet not even on the floor before even in your unconscious you can sense his departure.
“going to get water, love, i’ll be right back,” he mumbles in your ear, kissing the side of your head when you still and roll back over.
he gulps down the cool liquid before resting his head on the cold fridge, letting out a sigh as he realizes he may need to have another discussion with hongjoong.
even more so when he goes back into the room and sees your face, the slightest hint of discomfort in your pinched eyebrows and frowning lips.
you turn back over when he crawls in the bed again, your head on his chest and arm wrapping around his stomach.
he smiles upon hearing your sleepy voice call his name, dazed eyes staring up at him as he kisses the tip of your nose.
“hi, baby. i’m back.”
“i love you.”
the confession make his eyes widen and heart speed up, shocked into silence at those three, sudden words.
because while it’s obvious that’s how you both feel for each other, your sweet touches and words exchanged since the moment you met one another, you two haven’t ever uttered that sentence.
never put it out in the open and really discussed your feelings for one another.
but your eyes are shut and breaths turn even before you can even hear his softly spoken, “i love you,” in return.
and it’s because he loves you that he tells hongjoong about the thoughts he’s been having, wondering if he’s been doing the wrong thing the whole time and just making this transition harder for you.
“i think you’re trying to make it easier because you love her and don’t wanna see her hurt anymore.”
san’s eyes meet hongjoong’s across the dining room table at their house, a house san hasn’t slept or eaten at basically since you moved out; everyone knew where he was and they understood it completely but they also missed their friend’s presence.
“but...she does need to learn to be on her own, san. she’s never done that before and she’s always been dependent on someone. luckily you’re just...so fucking good that it wouldn’t be a problem. but even with her asking you if she could go to school...she’s not okay, yet, san. she needs to sort her shit out.”
“i don’t want her to be alone,” the blonde admits, voice tight and eyes threatening to water. “i don’t want her to think i’m leaving her.”
“you’re not leaving her alone. you’re just not gonna be attached at the hip 24/7. it’s normal for couples to be apart. you still live and pay rent here, you know. everyone misses you.”
the sound of bickering and plates crashing promptly comes from the kitchen, mingi’s harsh yelp of wooyoung’s name causing a commotion of bickering to break out.
hongjoong looks at san with a half pained, half amused expression, knowing that the dimpled boy will have to readjust to how loud and chaotic the house is all the time.
“you don’t have to do right now,” hongjoong says, wanting to finish the discussion before the boys notice san is here and lost their shit. “ease her into it. talk to her about it. see if she feels the same way. but let her know you just wanna help her, because i know you do, right?”
san’s nod is immediate and hongjoong mirrors him, his eyes quickly widening as he looks over the blonde’s broad shoulder.
he doesn’t even get to turn around before a slew of bodies bump into him, nearly knocking him onto the floor as six large, excited boys are jumping and squealing around him.
“san! you’re finally home!”
you’re nearly two months into your first semester of college by the time you’ve fully adjusted to your new schedule and pace of life.
classes monday, tuesday and thursdays mornings followed by your shift at the cafe during the afternoons. you miss your early morning regulars dearly and don’t know what to do with the 10+ memorized coffee orders still in your brain but you already love school so much.
you love learning and talking with your professors and meeting the many different people on campus. you’ve even found a small group of friends, two girls who sat next to you and immediately started up a conversation with you.
you were terffied and shy at first but eventually opened up, giggling and sharing your thoughts with them before class started - you even always made sure to be 10 minutes early so you could get in your chats with them.
unsurprisingly, san had been nothing but happy and supportive for the entire journey. helping you apply and become familiar with the campus while also assuring you everything was gonna work out.
your days were busy and packed with work and you truly loved it but night was still your favorite. when san would walk through the door with take out or you’d be greeted with the sight of him waiting for you on the couch.
it really felt as if your life was finally coming together, happy and at peace in a way you never felt before. it was like you finally had some sort of control over what happened to you, long gone the feeling of knots in your stomach or an uncontrollable shake in your hands.
but when you notice san is a little more quiet than usual today, you feel that foreign feeling make it’s way back into your body.
“is...everything okay?” you finally grow the confidence to ask, his hand absentmindley rubbing your leg that’s sprawled out on his lap.
you can tell the question throws him off by the way he snaps his head up to look at you, brows pulled together and his head cocked cutely to the side as his eyes roam your face.
“’course love, why do you ask?”
“i don’t know,” you hum softly, leaning the side of your head on the couch as you look at him. “i feel like you’re quiet today.”
“just thinking baby,” he tells you, tightening his hold on your leg before looking your way. “how were classes today?”
“good, i have to start my essay soon,” you tell him, something uneasy still pulling at your stomach; you’re not used to san being quiet or so lost in thought, usually the only time he’s silent is during a new episode of your shows.
“you’ll do great on it,” he says encouragingly, the hand on your leg gently calmingly rubbing your skin up and down. “you’re doing really good, you know that?”
happiness fills you at the thought of making san proud, a small smile on your face that causes one his own to cross his face. his dimples poke out and it reminds you so much of your first meeting, when the sun reflected off of him and you just knew there was something too pure and good about this man.
“thank you,” you smile softly, a faint blush on your cheeks that has san’s heart breaking in his chest even more.
he doesn’t wanna have this conversation tonight but he thinks it would be the best time. bring up maybe not staying over every night to create some more space for you while also allowing you to be more independent. learning how to fill your time with things other than him.
but you’re so happy tonight.
you’ve been so happy these past few months and he doesn’t wanna be the person to ruin that; it seems, though, you can see something behind his eyes and in his demeanor already, your body wiggling closer to him as your gaze shifts nervously.
“are you sure you’re okay?”
he lets out a sigh and you can’t help the way your stomach drops, watching carefully as his face turns contemplative and torn. like he wants to say something but isn’t sure if you’re gonna be able to handle it.
and that alone is scaring the shit out of you.
the silence is probably only fifteen seconds but it feels like hours, your eyes staring wide and heart starting to race as you look at him; you don’t know what you did but you had to have done something, right? he wouldn’t just act like this out of nowhere.
“did i...do something wrong?” you ask meekly, that feeling of fear and panic you haven’t felt in almost a year creeping back. you almost forgot how debilitating this feeling is, fully consuming your body until you feel like you’re about to completely breakdown and crumble.
the fear and concern on your face immediately makes him frown, shaking his head adamantly as he pulls you closer to him.
“no, no, no, y/n, of course not,” he assures softly, his lips brushing against your head.
you feel his calming breaths in your hair, like he already knows from the slight waver in your voice and look on your face that you’re getting worked up and anxious.
the few moments of silence should make you more anxious but you can only focus on his breathing and the warmth from his body against you, trying to stay calm as you remember that this is san and he would never do or say anything to hurt you.
“i’ve just been thinking about some things and i wanna talk to you about it,” san says, breaking the silence and immediately making your stomach flip nervously. “it’s nothing bad, baby, i just... you know i always have your best interest in mind, right?”
you swallow the lump growing in your throat as you turn to look at him, the soft look in his eye making you happy as much as it makes you sad.
because while you love seeing it, how sweet and thoughtful and truly kind he is, you know it’s also there because he thinks you’re about to lose your shit. and you haven’t lost your shit in quite some time.
“i-i know...”
he takes your face in his hands when your eyes start to wander, the quiet hum leaving his mouth making you look up at him again. the look in his eyes truly stirs something in you, tears burning your eyes even though you’re not even sure why yet.
“and you know i’ll never, ever hurt you?”
you nod again, feeling panic deep within your chest at where this conversation seems to be going.
“so what i’m about to suggest, i need you to hear me out, okay?”
he waits until you nod, his stomach sinking at the glossed over look in your eyes before he daringly opens his mouth again.
tells you that he thinks you living on your own while you start a new chapter of your life will be a good thing for you both. that learning to be independent and on your own will help you immensely in this new part of your life.
“you’ve been doing so good, y/n, and i’m so proud of you. you’ve started school and you work full time and you’re doing all the things you want to do. but we’re together all the time, baby, and i...i don’t know if that’s healthy, for either of us, you know?”
and you think to the average person, who hasn’t been abused and neglected and spent the last five years in normal, healthy circumstances, they would hear this and understand immediately.
that being alone and learning how to be on your own is a good, healthy thing that everyone needs to experience.
but all your brain can hear is he doesn’t wanna be with you anymore.
he’s tired of your brokenness and tired of looking after you all the time and needs some space from you; and while, you suppose, you can’t blame him, it doesn’t hurt you any less.
it doesn’t terrify you or upset you any less, even though you know his intentions are good; you can only feel unwanted and unworthy and like your time with someone so much better than you is up.
“is it...i just...do you not like it here? with me?”
did you not keep it clean enough? did you not cook enough, were the meals too frequently takeout and leftovers? you remember jungkook hated that, demanding the house be spotless and dinner be ready and homemade.
san would laugh at the question if this weren’t the current situation, a serious talk he’s been dreading having because he knows how you’re gonna take it at first.
but he loves being here and that’s the problem.
he would coddle you and love you and protect you for as long as you let him if it were up to him. but he knows that’s not what you need anymore, that you’re both not helping anyone if you continue to live your life in what became too comfortable and safe.
you deserve comfortable and safe but you also deserve to live happily and freely by yourself. and maybe that’s not his decision to make, he often thinks, but he certainly doesn’t think he’s helping you by enabling you to depend on him.
“baby, i love it here and i love you and i’ll never leave you until you tell me to,” san says, pressing a kiss to each cheek he prays tears don’t fall on in the next few minutes. “but i want you to be okay, love. i don’t want you to need me every night to sleep or think you need to ask my permission for things that are your choice.”
“is that- is that what this is about? that i asked you if i could go to school?” you ask meekly, the idea of talking back foreign but something you can’t control right now. “or is it because i’m in school?”
because maybe you’ve been too busy. maybe he feels like you neglected him. maybe he just wanted an out and this is it.
“of course it’s not because you’re in school,” san says, slight outrage in his voice as you even suggest that; he always tries to control his responses to you, knowing you’re dealing with years worth of manipulative behavior and maltreatment, but sometimes it does also get to him.
he was always supportive of your career and education, even when you were just friends and he admired you from afar.
“how could you think that?”
“because this is so random,” you squeak out, tears breaking through as the knot in your throat grows bigger. “i...i didn’t even know you were feeling this way and now you wanna stop seeing me.”
“i don’t wanna stop seeing you, y/n, when did i say that?” san asks, cocking his head to the side as he looks at you contemplatively.
“you said you don’t want to be together all the time...” you mutter out, feeling stupid and childish but not yet truly understanding what he means. you guys don’t fight at all and you’re always smiling and laughing together - isn’t it okay to be together all the time if good things like that are happening?
“y/n, i love you, of course i wanna still see you. but i just mean...living together the way we have these past months. you’ve never been alone. you’ve always depended on someone, right?”
you think back to your dysfunctional childhood, depending on alcoholic parents who never taught you how to fend for yourself until you fell into the arms of yet another abuser who you depended on even further.
restricted company and meals and communication, even restricted in what you could do outside the walls of your house.
“yes,” you nod, sniffling as you wipe at a stray tear on your cheek. “but they’ve only ever hurt me. you never do.”
that fact makes san’s chest pang with hurt, his own eyes burning with tears now as he thinks about how much pain you’ve endured.
“i know, baby, and i never will. but i think this’ll be good for us. good for you, mostly, that’s always my mian concern.”
but you start to wonder how this could possibly be good the second the front door closes a few hours later, leaving you alone in your apartment that now feels far too cold and far too dark and far too empty.
his lack of presence is noticable immediately and it doesn’t take long for panic and sadness and all that existential dread you once felt so deeply start to come on.
he doesn’t want you, nobody wants you, and the only people who did want you hurt you.
it’s a mantra you repeat in your head as you cry silently, splashing your face with cold water after your puffy eyes can’t take it anymore. and when you get a good look at yourself in the mirror, tear-stained and blotchy and a big fucking mess, you can’t help but see that same girl who was trapped in that house with jungkook.
weak and afraid and horribly incapable of doing anything right. so similiar to the current state you’re in now, sinking down on the bathroom floor and crying into your hands again.
this could be about san leaving, you know it has something to do with it, but you’re also crying because you now see just how badly you’re still effected by everything.
you could be distracted by school and work and san but there’s still so much under the surface that you haven’t come to terms with.
so much so to the point that even san had to step in and do something about it, him still seeing signs that you’re not okay despite how much everyone in your life is trying with you.
and it makes you feel bad that you have so many supportive, lovely people in your life but still can’t find it in you to feel okay. to not depend on one singlar blonde man to make you feel happy or act as if without him, you’re gonna break.
because you can see he’s tired of it. if he wasn’t, he wouldn’t have-
“y/n?”
his voice coupled with his fist hitting the door causes you to jump, at first thinking it’s a bittersweet trick your deluded little mind is playing on you. but then he knocks again, his sweet murmur of “y/n, please open the door,” causing you to cry out again.
hongjoong told him not to go, that he’d barely been home for an hour before he was already itching to rush back to you.
but he felt uneasy leaving the way he did in the first place, and then even more so when you didn’t answer his three messages and two facetime calls; he hated thinking that you were crying alone or feeling upset.
and it’s heartbreakingly evident when you reach up to open the door, curled up on the floor in tears, that that’s exactly how you feel.
“baby, no,” san hums lowly, immediately dropping to the floor so he can gather you in his lap.
it’s so much like the scene when you ran there after the final incident with jungkook, when you collapsed on the floor and finally told somebody about what you’d been going through.
what happened?" he asks desperately, voice strained and wavering.
but you can only shake your head and cry. cry for how long you've been dealing with this alone and how you feel trapped and how if you don't tell someone tonight.
"he's gonna kill me," you sob out as you shake your head frantically now, "i-i he's gonna kill me," is all you can repeat through ragged breaths.
san can only act on instinct, sitting down cross-legged and holding his arms out slightly before you crash into him. he shakily inhales when your head rests on his shoulder, sobs muffled by his shirt as he feels tears promptly soak through the material.
but he can only sit there, hand on the back of your head as he rocks you soothingly in his lap back and forth.
he listens to your sobs with a broken heart, tears stinging his own eyes because he had suspected something was going on for months and just sat here and did nothing. and now here you are, broken and bruised and in fear for your life.
"i can't go back there," you cry out, "i-he's gonna-"
"no one is gonna hurt you, anymore," he mumbles lowly in your ear, "i'm not gonna let that happen."
“you’re- you’re gonna leave me,” you whimper into his shirt, the only sound in your bathroom for the past few minuets your crying and his soothing hums. “you’re not gonna wanna deal with me anymore and leave and then i’ll really be alone and i’m so-”
“i’m not going anywhere. i’m not gonna let that happen,” he mumbles in your ear, his arms wrapped tightly around you as he presses his lips to your head. he rocks you back and forth so similarly to that night, his hand running up and down your back as he tries to get you to calm down.
“we’re gonna get you help. real help. and we’ll all be here for you whenever you need us. you’re gonna be okay, my love.”
one year later:
you look back at the breakdown in your bathroom and are always surprised that you don’t feel embarrassed.
you think that was the moment when you finally realized how much you’d gone through and how much you really had to sort through. that you could distract yourself all you want and depend on san as much as you felt you needed but you still had things to work through.
it took you about four therapist consultations to find the right one, eventually finding a sweet older woman who reminded you so much of your boss at the cafe. she listened to you and encouraged you and helped you find so much strength within yourself, you regret not taking your lawyer’s advice sooner about seeing a professional.
you still had bad days, of course, but now you’ve learned how to properly cope with them. cope with the stressors of everyday life, like the shouting of voices and the slamming of doors and san not being by your side 24/7.
and san, little to your surprise, had done the right thing in saying you needed to learn to be independent.
it scared you at first, living alone and being alone with your thoughts and memories that tried to haunt you every chance they got. but now your life is so full of happy ones that it makes everything a little bit easier; you now love the freedom of living alone and have come to enjoy the peaceful silences of your apartment.
you now have so many things to laugh and feel happy about, like mingi and seonghwa’s obsession with gardening (even though they’ve moved on to vegetables now and have yet to combat the battle with squirrels eating their tomatoes).
you have school and classes and friends that you made, making straight a’s while also balancing time with your study group, the boys and mrs. kim and your official boyfriend san.
there are still some days when you wake up and feel a sinking feeling in your stomach that you think might be there forever, a certain smell or certain pain richoetting through your body that will remind you of what you went through and survived.
but you know that you’ll be able to get through it, not only because you’re strong enough now but because you still have san to lean on - the boy in question currently with his arms wrapped tight around your waist and snoring down your neck.
you can’t help the small smile on your face as you turn in his hold, your finger reaching out to trace the contours of his face.
the warm, overwhelming feeling in your chest should scare you but it makes you feel even more happy and content with life, shutting your eyes immediately when his brown eyes meet yours.
his loud chuckle fills the room before he lips attack your neck, quiet giggles leaving your mouth that only spur the blonde on more.
“i saw that,” he mumbles playfully, smiling against your skin as your giggles get louder. “good morning, baby.”
you pull back and smile at the boy staring down at you lovingly, the late-morning sun beaming through your window reminding you so much of the first time you saw him.
heard his sweet, friendly voice that you immediately trusted and probably fell in love with right there.
"those are coming out really nice!" you hear a voice say from the yard next door.
you shoot your head to the side to see a young man standing there, probably about your age, eyes kind and dimples poking out of his cheeks as he holds an overflowing white garbage bag.
your lips quirk up ever so slightly, probably being mistaken for your mouth twitching before you give him a tiny bow.
"thank you."
tag list: @mochibabycakes @atinyarmyx1 @middle-of-a-wonshua-sandwich @minbinwhore @chrryhwa @chogiout @marksflvr @bunbaebae @markleeyeosang @inkigayeo @nlost21 @toffee-hwa
#the italic flashbacks always get messed up on mobile!!!#srry hope its not confusing#san#san angst#san fluff#ateez#ateez angst#ateez fluff#ateez scenarios#san scenarios#ateez imagines#san imagines
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Shrapnel.
Angstpril 2021 - Day 4 “Betrayal”
Here's my take on the day 4 prompt! One day late, but hope you enjoy it.
CW for description of injuries.
-------------------
Earlier that day.
*The radio crackles to life and a yellow light flashes on the dashboard*
“RCPD to Harbour City Medical Centre. I repeat, RCPD to Harbour City Medical Centre, over.” The message plays over the speaker, prompting the operator to put on their headset, and reposition themselves in front of the console and receiver, before flicking the switch to change the output channel from speaker to headset.
“Harbour City Medical Centre here, go ahead.”
“Requesting urgent contact with Master Kya of the Southern Water Tribe.”
“Master Kya is currently unavailable, can I take a message?”
“Negative. Is Master Katara available?”
“Standby, RCPD.” The radio operator quickly glanced at the timetable pinned to the right of them to check if the Master Healer was in.
Bingo.
"Yes she is. Standby while we locate her."
"Copy, on standby."
Sliding over quickly to the hospital intercom, the operator paged for Master Katara to report to the comms room immediately. Upon arrival, the young operator caught the Healer up on who was requesting her, before flipping the switch changing the output from the headset to speaker to resume contact.
“Harbour City Medical Centre to RCPD.”
“Go ahead, Harbour City Medical Centre.”
“Master Katara is on the line.”
“Master Katara, this is Detective Mako from the RCPD, do you have a private channel that we can switch to?”
"Standby."
At the insistence of a private channel, the operator quickly checked that the Master Healer was comfortable with how to transmit before departing the room with a smaller radio and transmitter and closing the door.
“Channel 427.” The old Waterbender relayed to the Detective, before reaching out to change the channel once receiving confirmation.
“Copy that. Switching channels now.”
“Detective Mako to Master Katara, do you copy?”
“Copy, loud and clear.”
“Master Katara, you have been listed as an emergency contact of RCPD’s Chief of Police Lin Beifong. Chief Beifong has been injured in action and requires consent for surgery for the removal of several pieces of shrapnel embedded in her lower back. There are risks associated with this type of surgery, are you familiar with risks involved, or would you like a break down?"
“No, I am fully aware of the risks associated.”
“Copy that, do you consent to the surgery on her behalf?”
“Yes, I give my consent.”
“Copy that.” The Firebender said as he turned to nod at his colleague, giving the go ahead for the surgery. After the departure of his colleague, he continued on the radio with the report on the situation.
“Master Katara, would you like a report on Chief Beifong’s current location and condition?”
“Yes, please.”
“Chief Beifong is currently admitted at the Yue Bay Private Hospital in a serious but stable condition with multiple lacerations to her upper back and embedded shrapnel in her lower back. Minor cuts and bruises are evident on her face and upper extremities, however non-conclusive on any internal bleeding or head trauma. She will be in theatre for the next two to three hours, before being moved to a private room for recovery.”
“Thank you for the update, Detective. I will inform Master Kya of Chief Beifong’s condition.”
“Copy that. Will you be reachable at Harbour City Medical Centre in the next three hours for an update?”
“Negative. I will be relocating back to my residence, however channel 427 remains open as my private channel.”
“Copy that, over and out.” Mako signed off on the radio and switched back to the main channel in the hospital comms room, before thanking the operator and heading out towards the waiting area outside of the theatre.
__________________________________
Present time.
“You did what ?!” spat a less than impressed Police Chief as she attempted to sit up and glare at her Assistant Chief, before grimacing in pain and lowering herself down.
“You heard me.” Saikhan said, standing his ground, “We notified your emergency contacts and informed them that you were hospitalised and in need of consent for surgery.”
“Why the hell did you do that for?” She groaned as she closed her eyes and gingerly rested her head back on the pillow in her hospital bed.
I’m never going to hear the end of this.
“You required consent for your surgery. Are you listening, Lin?” He repeated and then shot the nurse a quick look over his shoulder, quickly conferring with them to confirm that she hadn’t sustained any head trauma from the whole ordeal.
“I’m fine.” She huffed, while gently resting her arms across her abdomen.
“Lin, having nine pieces of shrapnel embedded in your lower back is not fine. Do you know that you lost consciousness while you were being transported and required two blood transfusions?” He said while crossing his arm to stare down at her from the side of her bed.
“Hmph. Doesn’t mean that I’m happy about it.” She said in a gruff voice, noticing that his forearm guard was removed and a bandage wrapped around his elbow. “Guess I should thank you for the transfusions too.”
“Transfusion. You need to thank Mako for the other one. He rolled up his sleeve to give you some of that fancy red stuff when you required a second round of donations.” He said, earning a sigh from the Metalbender. “Well if you moved a little quicker you could’ve avoided being caught in that blast and you would have been discharged already, but your reflexes don’t seem as sharp as they used to be.” He joked with her, knowing that he was one of the few who could give her shit like that given what they have been through together on the force.
Great.
She thought to herself. Not only did she feel betrayed that her body was starting to slow down, but now that her significant other has been notified of her condition, she was now going to have to reassure an angry but worried Waterbender, who would no doubt be waterbending her way back to Republic City to check on her, that she is fine. Not to mention that she was now also indebted to a certain Detective too.
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do you think it’s possible sarah (hoppers daughter) was an early-formed alter that went dormant before the events of season one? it’d make a lot of sense with how much of hoppers arc in season one was him mourning her and channeling that grief into protecting will (which would make sense since he seems like a protecter to both will and el). love your posts!☺️
Yep . :D
I already discussed all of this in the original did post - how sarah was a “little” (kid ) alter. And how hopper was a protector /introject alter. I also discussed her going dormant as a major possibility in my did theory. My assumption is she either (a) “became dormant” like some alters do- aka they are “gone” sometimes for many years but can return . And this can happen in a myriad of ways - sometimes alters go dormant after they had a simulated death in the inner world . theoretically sarah had such a Death. And so did El. Death isn’t really a permanent thing for alters ...they usually will come back or stay dormant - unless the body of the host dies (or they integrate) . They can’t really die . I think it’s very possible she comes back and Hopper while exploring the various innerworlds of Will’s minds (like the Russian one, the memory scapes , etc ) reunites/ finds her . look at the st s4 movie inspirations. In ‘what dreams may come” a guy with the guidance of his dead kid explore a heaven like world influenced by a painter’s emotions.We also have the movie ‘inside out’ -which involves “memory islands” (distinct worlds based on a child’s memories) which are influenced negatively by the kid being depressed she moved to California. The characters traveling to these memory islands are constructs of kid’s mind -and 1 of them also has a guide helping them explore the ‘memory islands’. in Inception a guy says he’s a construct of a guy’s mind and needs to help him escape the many different Ievels of the dream worlds.The in inception who made the worlds- had dad issues. 'the cell’also had alternate dimensions of a man's mind that a cop explored ( the dimensions were created by a man who was ab*sed by his dad). Movies like inception, matrix, Truman show, total recall, the cell, enter the void, wizard of oz, Peter Pan, hellraiser 2, dream warriors, bill & ted’s bogus journey, and welcome to marwen also allude to this: because they involve entering simulated abstract worlds usually created/based on happy& traumatic memories/fears.Cough s4 using the movie wizard of oz quote “we’re not in Hawkins (kansas) anymore.While truman show/matrix are more about realizing your reality isn’t real.in bladerunner 2044/total recall it has the theme of false implanted memories… probably relating to hopper realizing he’s an alter and not in “actual Russia.” Before seeing the other segments of the innerworlds with sarah. Like in total recall- the bad ass spy is told all his memories: his wife/ years of marriage, , his name, are just implanted memories. And she says “you’re life is a dream.”
In s2 Nancy asks Steve how his “grandpa’s time in the war is a metaphor for your life?” And steve compares the mf to the germans in the war. Dr owens mentions Will has ptsd like “ (vietnam) soldiers’, Hopper saying he had buddies like Will . “In the 70s there was a study that compared the post-traumatic stress symptoms in Vietnam veterans and adult survivors of childhood s**ual ab*se. The study revealed that childhood s**ual ab*se is traumatizing and can result in symptoms comparable to symptoms from war-related trauma.” Hopper isn’t actually in Russia -but in one of the innerworlds (after he jumped through the rift of the machine- into Will’s mind). We’ll see flashbacks but also present circumstances of his imprisonment echo Will’s past with Lonnie (if the movies indicate anything)- being starved, guards getting payed in order to let other prisoners r*pe a gay prisoner (than claim incorrectly because of his sexuality he wanted it) , as well as a gang of sadist men who r**e others and a warden using that as a threat to be compliant , being thrown in a dark room of solitary confinement and starved when they didn’t obey the warden, the warden being religious, etc. And the Anerican soldiers (in Vietnam) in the movies aren’t much better and do similarly horrific acts to civilians like r**e and bragging/ happily k*lling women, children, and the elderly. The drill sergant in vietnam calling them homophobic slurs & women, and chocking one of the soldiers with one hand, slapping one for not believing in christianity. Tying up a soldier in a bed , gagging him, beating him and saying “remember it’s just a dream.” Only praising them when good in fire arms.(movies : fullmetal jacket, papillon, shawshank redemption, platoon, welcome to marwen, etc ) . My assumption is flashbacks of his life- will hint he’s an alter of Will’s-the boxes in the basement are “vietnam” ,“dad”, and “ny” (and these are the memories of his we’ll see). And some of the bad characters in said stories will also parallel Lonnie . For instance in s2, Jonathan mentions Indiana writer Vonnegut- In his book ‘slaughterhouse 5′- Vonnegut begins the story of Billy Pilgrim, a man who has “come unstuck in time”. It accounts of Billy Pilgrim's capture and incarceration by the Germans during the last years of World War II, and scattered throughout the narrative are episodes from Billy's life with his dad, and his own wife and kids.Billy is forced to be part of the war and similar things against his free will. The moments start from his childhood when his father throws him in the water to teach him how to swim. He was unwillingly drafted into the war. Later, he is kidnapped by Tralfamadorians (aliens that are implied to be caused by his mental health issues/trauma) against his will. Therefore, he realizes that this concept is just an illusion.
And some of the bad characters in said stories will also parallel Lonnie . Like how in ‘peterpan’- the young girl Wendy imagines netherland and the villain -captain hook- is based off her father ( in the movie they have the same voice actors/while in all stage productions the 2 characters are always played by the same actor). Similar to the other s4 film- ‘wizard of oz’ where the wicked witch of th west from the mythical land of Oz (is played by Dorothy’s real life mean neighbor in the real world/kansas). Or ‘in the cell’- every villain from the alternate-mind- dimensions is played by same actor in diff makeup. Not sure if they’d use Ross Patridge (actor of Lonnie) in this way . But it would be very interesting if (In makeup) Ross played many negative people in Hopper’s life/past -as a way to show Will’s past tr*uma.
Like also-look at Sarah’s tiger plushie! In chinese mythology/culture: “The tiger is personified by the constellation Orion (interesting given Sara’s interest in space/blackholes). The tiger represents protection over human life (hmm?). Tiger charms were used to keep away evil and disease (that’s awful ironic if she died in the manner she did). In Buddhism, wearing tiger skins during meditations was believed to bring protection from spiritual interference and potential harm while exploring astral dimensions.” HMMMMMMMMM XD
Kali in the stranger things novel ‘Suspicious Minds’ says…
“I was named after a goddess. She wore a tiger skin and was fierce in battle.”
Then Kali says to Alice (a women who can see future visions): “I love you, Alice. We can be tigers together.”This parallel (in relation to Alice) is fascinating because Kali actually uses her powers to fake Alice’s death- and to trick Dr. Brenner, and allow Alice to escape. The allusion was so realistic, that Terry could even touch the ‘dead’ Alice.
So the tiger symbolism could be a HUGE hint- that Sarah’s death was simulated and she’ll come back and travel the innerworlds/alternate dimensions of Will’s mind (as Hopper’s guide). Hopper about sarah “galaxies the universe-she always understood that stuff.”
Another possibility (theory b) is she integrated with another alter or with Will (which means she can’t return) .Hopper saying about Sarah “the black hole it got her.” Could imply she integrated with the mf/shadow monster? And ,or maybe she will later ?
But... I lean heavily to theory (a) the most , though.
Obviously sarah has a lot of the connections to Will. will and Sarah both being into science, Sarah winning a spelling bee, Will winning the science fair, both being connected to tigers. Both hallucinating something no one else can see and people trying to snap the 2 out of what they’re viewing. Joyce saying as a witch she’ll eat Will. Parallels Hopper saying as an ogre he’ll eat sarah. Hopper, in s1, when seeing Will (with a vine in his mouth) has a flashback of Sarah on a mouth respirator. And he also has a flashback of Sarah when seeing Will’s lion plushie which resembled Sarah’s tiger plushie. And el also had a lion plushie-like Will’s in s1. Hopper monitored both Will and Sarah at the hospital when they were “dying”. Will has a fear of clowns- and Sarah’s hospital gown had clowns on them. All 3 kids draw.
Plus, we all know the parallels of Will to El (Hopper’s new daughter).
I discussed in my did theory that Hopper (as an adult alter) is a form of protector to all the kid alters - el, Sarah, and Will (host/core). And Hopper as an introject-alter (who are alters based on a person the child knows ) are usually put in the system cause the kid assumes that person could protect them . And since original-Hopper was a police man (a little kid could easily assume that). Although, because he’s a “father figure” for the system he has some of Lonnie’s traits- which are reflected in other perpetrator alters/ bad npcs in the system- Brenner, Neil, Billy, the evil’s Russians,etc . So sometimes he acts similar to a Perpetrator alter too . And I listed those examples/bad parallels extensively in the original did post (linked in the beginning).
And I used these quotes from psych papers in my original did post to pretty much sum up Hopper’s use in Will’s system .
“Introjects can also be based off of figures that the dissociative child found strong, courageous, heroic, or otherwise worthy of being emulated and internalized and could theoretically protect them.”
“Older adult alters are created to serve a nurturing or parenting role, thus serving as a protector. (*protecting Will/el) . However, sometimes their older age is related to taking on the identification of the ab*ser and can therefore take on any of the other more hostile roles too ... Introjects which are mimicking ab*sers are trying to "keep you inline" in order to protect you from external ab*sers. They are copying behaviors shown to them by bad people, not harboring the intent, s*dism or imm*rality of the actual perpetrators.”
I think it pretty much sums up the nuances and motivations of Hopper’s character.
Thanks for the ask, anon :)
#jim hopper#stranger things#sarah hopper#will byers#kali prasad#el hopper#stranger things theory#did theory#s4 theory#st movies
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7.02 final thoughts? (Idk if this one has been requested yet)
7.02 Final Thoughts
*rubs hands* Ah, yes, the episode that got me into SPN. I could talk forever about season 7.
Fun drinking game: take a shot every time someone makes a different colorful idiom about Sam being insane. Hint: you’ll die, because I counted 25.
(I WONDER WHY Sam didn’t want to tell Bobby or Dean about his active symptoms of psychosis. Truly, a mystery for the ages.)
Even setting Hallucifer aside, this episode highlights so many of the things I high-key LOVE about season 7: the erosion of Sam and Dean’s support network (as tenuous as that already was)—take away Bobby’s house, take away angelic healing, take away the Impala, make them vulnerable and alone and crumbling under the weight of the trauma they’ve accumulated. The broken leg, Sam’s head injury and seizure in the ambulance? Strapped down, badly injured, the fates of their friends uncertain, headed into the belly of the beast? ICONIC. Over the top. Amazing.
It’s a similar kinda thing to Jody’s predicament—sure, she’s capable enough ordinarily, but if you give her surgery and drug her and leave her alone in a hospital with a liver-eating monster on the prowl, the stakes look a lot different, don’t they? I’ve seen this episode approximately one gazillion times but every time I get tense for her.
Quick thoughts on the Leviathans, which have a reputation as an underwhelming SPN villain. Perhaps because of how unsubtle and half-baked they are as metaphor for corporate greed/capitalistic consumption, perhaps because of how their promise of truly terrifying Old Ones, Cthulu-esque devourers, never quite came true (except for a bit in 7.01 and 7.02, yikes!). But honestly I’ve always liked them—I like how their organization and assimilation of knowledge drives the Winchesters deeper underground than even the Apocalypse did; I like how they made the Winchesters’ entire world into something mundanely unsafe and miserable; I like how they showcase the horror of a enemy composed of lockstep drones, the way that Heaven (and Hell, sometimes) tries to be, but never truly manages; I like Dick Roman’s gleeful ravenousness; I like their spooky mouths; hell, I even like the Dick jokes.
Bobby’s solicitousness towards Dean, and how awkwardly he talks to Sam a little later in the episode, is very emblematic of how bone-deep uncomfortable he is around an honest-to-God mental illness, and, well, around Sam’s issues in general. Which doesn’t make him a bad person, or unsupportive, necessarily. But it’s very evident that he’s got no clue what to say to Sam or how to handle him, that he’s leagues more comfortable dealing with Dean’s problems (as has often been the case regardless of Sam’s mental health).
A related, but separate point: the lengths the show goes to to emphasize “look, Dean’s not okay,” while Sam’s in the middle of a psychotic break… It baffles me a little every time I see this episode, when Bobby walks away from Sam all “yyyyeah I gotta go do some work” and then is immediately all “ok but Dean, how are YOU feeling?” It’d be one thing if Dean weren’t emotionally demonstrative, and if Sam were—if Sam, at this point in the episode, was so obviously struggling to such a painful degree that Bobby wants to make sure Dean’s not overlooking his own reactions. But that’s not really the case. Apart from some flinching, Sam’s been very matter-of-fact about the whole thing so far.
This is our first deep-dive into Sam post-Cage, a full season about he returned. And I love it to pieces, you guys. I love how these inescapable, soul-deep consequences are the inevitable answer to the moral of Sam’s story, where he interred himself with his worst nightmare, forever.
Dean after Hell is clawing for moral high ground. Dean focuses on this bleak kind of virtue, this idea of martyrdom and righteous struggle that eventually unspools and reveals itself to be fundamentally unmoored. He needs some kind of redemption for himself after what he was forced to do in Hell; he needs to own his destiny, and he needs that destiny to be meaningful and good, and he channels his violence outward in that cause.
Sam does not take any kind of high ground. He hurts... himself. He gnaws inward. No illusions about how “messed up” he is—he sidelines himself before Dean or Bobby can say a single word; he figures he needs to be on top of it, needs to get out ahead of the danger he could represent and reassure his family that he knows he’s a hazard. Sam has learned to repress and downplay and hide his traumas and his freakishness both to avoid feeling stigmatized and to avoid being a burden on the people he loves, especially on his brother. So when Dean reacts with fear (understandable) and anger (less so), Sam takes it in stride.
Hallucifer is probably my favorite thing this show has ever done. I could probably write another thousand words on Hallucifer alone—on how Sam’s using this face for coping, for compartmentalizing; both to hurt himself and to keep himself company, to sort through his pain and arrive at a place where it’s at all tenable for him to exist.
Sam’s skepticism about professional mental health treatment—his idea that this is a problem he can handle himself, that a doctor would "just stuff [him] full of pills”—is clearly one born of the family mold. This is his dismissive response to Hallucifer!Dean’s accusation that Sam won’t be able to cut it on his own. This denial, this idea that Sam knows he needs to get a handle on this, and therefore that he MUST do it himself, make a science of it, is fascinating.
On the subject of denial: Hallucifer poses a simple question to Sam: are you sure you got out? And Sam’s NOT sure. Faith that he’s free is yet another maybe-lie that Sam must tell himself with maniacal intensity this season, for the sake of his own sanity, to avoid the voice in his head telling him to shoot himself.
That Scene in the warehouse. Dean’s advice to Sam is to trust in Dean as the cornerstone of his reality. Asks him to build his whole world on his trust in Dean. What choice does Sam have? Who else can Sam rely on? What else can he do? There is no one else, nothing else. There’s only Dean, or Lucifer. It’s a dichotomy. It’s so CHILLING.
Especially in the context of what we know comes next—7.03, where Dean lies to Sam’s face, murders Amy, and uses Sam’s ~insanity~ to defuse Sam’s (justified) anger. And then, season 8, and 9, and 10, and, y’know what, the entire show.
Sam drives his thumb into his bleeding hand, and it’s SPN in a nutshell—forever choosing the claustrophobia of the path of slightly less resistance, forever clinging to the misery of a life that’s only just this side of bearable, burying yourself in the toxic fallout because the alternative is unimaginably nightmarish—using the trappings of free will, of defiance, to choose to claw holes in yourself so that someone else won’t. There is no escape.
Dean’s threat of murder-suicide on the phone is so clearly meant to be sympathetic. And yes, on a certain level it absolutely is; and then on another level, it’s, y’know, MURDER-suicide, where Dean’s taking explicit responsibility for and ownership of Sam’s life, even though Sam’s pretty clearly lucid. Dean’s assuming as a matter of course his ability and right to make that decision for Sam. How Dean views and deals with Sam’s instability in season 7 lays major groundwork for Dean’s willingness to let in Gadreel in 9.01.
#final thoughts#7.02#sam and lucifer#sam and hallucinations#sam and dean#sam and self-harm#sam and hell#sam and trauma#sam and mental illness#sam and abuse#dean critical#sam and suicide#season 7 more like season HEAVEN#(except that spn heaven sucks ofc and s7 emphatically does not)
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It’s All In The Execution (S2, E1)
It happened. We got a second season. I’m living my best life...unfortunately Malcolm isn’t...
*** Content warning: brief mentions/allusions to depression, suicidal ideation, and Malcolm’s general poor mental health ****
SPOILERS AHEAD.
0:00 - OH HELL YES. I can’t believe we actually got a second season! <3 My heart is so full.
0:18 – “This ledge is taken.” …..ok so I have lots of feelings about this scene. 1) Malcolm’s lines are iconic in this scene and I love it. 2) WHY THE ACTUAL HELL WOULD JT, DANI, AND EDRISA AGREE TO LET A (LET’S BE HONEST) MAN IN A VERY BAD MENTAL STATE WITH A HISTORY OF DEPRESSION STAND ON A LEDGE FOR A CASE?!? Like seriously, Gil wouldn’t have gone with this shit. 3) As soon as I saw Malcolm on the ledge I believed he was seriously considering jumping. He showed passive suicidality most of last season and after Endicott – well I don’t blame him for being a little depressed.
0:26 – Damn. Malcolm is really manic in this scene. It’s reminiscent of the pilot episode in the sense that Malcolm really has no filter.
0:40 – Ok so Tom Payne deserves a freaking Emmy. This performance is gorgeous. Look at his facial expression when he says “It got real dark for me though. Family issues.” The look on his face completely convinces me that Malcolm is riding the struggle bus more than usual right now…..also am I the only one who thinks this ‘penthouse slasher’ is kind of unbelievable? He strikes me as too anxious and jumpy to be a serial killer.
1:18 – Is Malcolm even trying to hide the fact that he knows what happened to Endicott?!? I mean “I tried to fight it” can’t JT and Dani hear his usual ‘projecting his personal issues on the suspect shtick?’
1:30 – Did he really just scream “I am the Surgeon’s son” from a ledge?!? Dude – someone please give this boy a hug and get him to Gabrielle – like last month.
1:40 – Soooo… now Chester isn’t scared of the ledge? He looked like he was going to wet himself from fear a literal minute ago.
1:49 – OH OF COURSE CHESTER SLIT THEIR THROATS. JUST LIKE AINSLEY SLIT ENDICOTT’S. Chris Fedak really loves to inject Malcolm’s personal issues into the ‘serial killer of the week’.
2:23 – I’m sorry – the team let Malcolm on the ledge without tethering him first?!? No. No. No. I refuse to believe it. Dani, JT, and Edrisa care too much about Malcolm to let him do that.
2:28 – Why is Edrisa even on this stakeout?!? Did she fill in as the 4th team member while Gil was in the hospital?!? I love Edrisa – she’s hilarious but the fact that she’s in the field like this is absolute nonsense. Hahaha
2:32 – hahaha OMG. JT is like the big brother forced to hang out with his younger sibling and their weird friends. He’s think’s they’re all crazy but he’d also die for them.
2:42 – Yikes. Malcolm is questioning his moral code. This boy is headed for a real nasty downward mental spiral if someone doesn’t intervene quickly.
2:46 – Am I really supposed to believe that a rope tied to a radiator can hold the weight of two grown men dangling off a building?!? I mean – I’ll suspend my disbelief because I know it’s fictional entertainment but I found it really distracting.
2:48 – JT. Would. Not. Let. Go. Of. That. Rope. I REFUSE TO BELIEVE IT. If for no other reason than because he loves GIL too much to let Gil’s surrogate son fall to his death. I understand why this happened – tension and excitement for television in the first scene of a new season but honestly – this whole first scene is wildly unrealistic given what we know about JT, Dani, Edrisa and their respective roles on the team.
2:50 – Can we talk about JT’s facial hair for a sec? I like him with it (and without it). Part of me thinks he grew it because he’s trying to channel Gil while he’s temporarily in charge of the team.
3:08 – Honestly, the second Malcolm picked up his phone all I could think was “You moron. What if you drop that thing off the side of the building!?!?!”…then I remembered that he’s rich.
3:20 – “Please say it’s cancer.” Hahahahahaha OMG. I have a love/hate relationship for Malcolm with no filter. That’s freaking comedic gold.
3:57 – “I’m hanging in there.” Tom Payne is freaking incredible. Look at his facial expression here. Malcolm’s emotional pain is etched on that face. Ugh. I’m love.
4:02 – soooo no updated title screen. Interesting.
4:08 – Istg the writers only put Ainsley in this scene so she would be in the episode. I mean honestly – what kind of precinct lets reporters with a camera crew INSIDE?!?!
4:15 – hahaha I love JT in this scene. I love how he initially looks at Ainsley with a mixture of confusion, resignation, and fear. This is a man who does not like the camera.
4:16 – Side note: is it just me or is Ainsley acting very manic in this scene? Something about her energy reminds me of Malcolm circa 1x05 when he’s not sleeping and trying to convince everyone that he’s fine.
4:38 – hahahaha OMG. That wink.
4:48 – Even Malcolm looks surprised that Ainsley and a camera dude were let into the precinct.
5:00 – Ahhh the hand tremor. <3 Love that they’re still using that.
5:05 – also Malcolm is heartbreaking in this scene. Someone give him a hug. Look at how hard he’s trying to hide his pain, fear, and trauma. UGH.
5:33 - So we finally get to see it. The moments immediately after 1x20. Or do we? I have this crackpot theory (I posted it on my main blog, so you might’ve already seen it – “AllTimeBouvier”) that these flashbacks are only a fraction of the truth. I think Sophie walked followed Malcolm from the vet’s office to the hospital, then home. I think she hid when she heard Endicott’s voice due to fear but came out after Ainsley started screaming and stabbing. Besides – anyone else notice how the portion of these flashbacks where Malcolm is saying “Ainsley, focus on me. You didn’t do this. I did.” Only his right hand is ever in the frame. So it’s impossible to tell if he’s holding his cell (on the phone with Martin) with his left hand or if he just hung up and put the phone back in his pocket? I think that Martin either phoned Malcolm back or Martin heard Sophie’s voice and demanded to talk to her. I think Sophie disposed of the body while Malcolm took care of Ainsley like a good big brother. I think Sophie went into hiding and Martin is gaslighting Malcolm into believing that he disposed of Endicott’s body.
5:37 – Anyone else want to know what happened to the murder weapon? And Ainsley’s bloody clothes? Just me?
6:00 – hahahahaha Jessica is so extra. I love it.
6:29 – Wait. What? Why was Ainsley quarantined with Jessica? Ainsley has her own apartment. If Jessica forced Ainsley to come and live with her during quarantine – why didn’t she also force Malcolm? This doesn’t track for me.
6:40 – I love that Jessica brought Malcolm food (you can see the grocery bag behind Malcolm in one of the shots) and went so far as to actually lay out the breakfast ingredients for him. <3 I mean. It’s extra but it’s also sweet.
6:45 – Why is Jessica looking at Malcolm’s pill bottles? Is it just to avoid eye contact with Malcolm while she talks about Gil? Is she noticing that his dosage has changed (she’s extra so I’m assuming she knows exactly what meds he takes and how much of each). Is that part of the reason why she’s suspicious of Malcolm? His dosage has gone up and he’s clearly trying to hide his pain?
6:52 – I love how Malcolm interacts with Jessica in this scene. It’s so cute. They’re adorable. AND seeing Malcolm in casual clothing is always nice.
7:44 – “Oh about that.” Damn. Malcolm really can’t catch a break. Poor baby. : (
7:50 – hahaha Martin looks like a mountain man here. Completely deranged and un-groomed.
7:51 – Glad Mr.David isn’t dead or evil. I had fears.
8:35 – The tension between Dani and Malcolm seems to have lessened since 1x20. The trust seems to have been partially rebuilt. Partially. Dani is still suspicious.
8:38 – Well at least Malcolm’s still going to therapy.
8:41 – GREEN SUIT. HELL YES.
9:06 – “The ‘Drise knows.” OMG hahahaha I love this show. Look at how Malcolm looks at her hahaha.
9:17 – “I can fire these people right?” OMG. 10/10. JT REALLY SHINES IN THIS EPISODE. AND FRANK HARTS IS KILLING IT and the writers gave him so much well deserved screen time and great lines.
9:53 – Malcolm and Edrisa getting excited about murder is honestly so freaking cute.
10:34 – OMG. The way Malcolm perks up at the mention of rumours is hilarious. A learned behaviour from Jessica during his childhood?
10:45 – I’ll say it again. Chris Fedak was wasting Frank Harts in season 1. This dude is shining in this episode. I hope they keep giving him more lines and screen time than they did last season.
12:00 – I love seeing Malcolm this excited/happy but it’s pretty concerning that his passion is murder weapons.
12:04 – This scene is really interesting to me for four reasons 1) Where the eff did Dani go? I guess she’s probably on her way to see Gil? 2) Even though Malcolm is getting excited about murder he’s way less manic than he was earlier this episode. 3) I love watching JT deal with Edrisa and Malcolm’s nerdy excitement. I could watch it all day. So fun. 4) I love watching JT and Malcolm in scenes together. Period. I can honestly say that watching their friendship evolve is one of the highlights of this show for me.
12:30 – Heartbreaking. Malcolm had a few minutes where he forgot about Ainsley, Endicott, Martin, and the various traumas currently haunting him. Then he not only remembered but he saw Martin in himself. The crazy person collecting murder weapons. You can tell he feels embarrassed, ashamed, and sad. I genuinely believe that’s why JT says, “soooo weird.” with a look of sympathy and concern. JT doesn’t suspect that Malcolm has anything to do with Endicott’s murder at this point in time. Mark my words.
12:55 – Edrisa gets Bright. I will never ship them together but I really hope they get more scenes together this season. Their friendship is beautiful.
13:00 – Malcolm, baby, no. You don’t have to do this. Ugh. Poor baby. This is just going to make the night terrors worse.
13:10 – They trimmed Martin’s beard but not his hair between the first scene in this episode and now. I think they just combed his hair? Why?!? Was this a Michael Sheen request? I must know!!!
13:40 – hahaha OMG. Can we all just take a moment to appreciate how incredible Michael Sheen is?!? This man can go from downright terrifying to hilarious in a split second. Incredible actor.
13:55 – Sooooo Mr. David doesn’t know about Endicott? Because he’s definitely heard Malcolm and Martin discuss some pretty sketchy stuff over the years. I’m pretty sure he heard about the Sophie stuff last season didn’t he? Why is Martin finally trying to hide something from Mr. David?
14:03 – Look at Malcolm’s face. Ugh. He looks nauseous and scared. Someone hug him. Or better yet – get him away from Martin.
14:18 – Sooooo is Jerry going to be a problem later? Martin ‘cures him’ later in this episode so will he be able to tell someone he heard Martin and Malcolm talking about Endicott’s murder? Would anyone believe him?
14:40 – GO. TO. HELL. MARTIN. You’re not feeling it?!? Haven’t you caused enough emotional damage to your son. Stop. Trying. To. Manipulate. Malcolm.
14:50 – Question 1000 about how Endicott’s body was disposed of: Where the hell did Malcolm get that yellow jumpsuit on such short notice? And….those gloves – anyone else notice that they’re practically the same as the gloves he puts on in Izzy’s sex dungeon in a few minutes? ALSO – THEY FOUND ENDICOTT’S BODY IN ESTONIA?!? LIKE ALL OF IT OR JUST PARTS OF IT? WOULDN’T IT BE SMARTER TO SCATTER HIS BODY IN MULTIPLE COUNTRIES IF IT’S ALREADY IN PIECES?!? Unless maybe Endicott’s body isn’t in pieces because we all know that Malcolm’s memory of traumatic events is fuzzy at best.
15:07 – “Don’t. Say. That. Never, say that.” - I’m really proud of Malcolm here. He’s clearly in serious emotional distress throughout this whole conversation. He’s grappling with what he believes he did, what that means about him, his moral code, and his relationship with Martin. But yet – he found the strength to basically tell Martin to eff off.
15:20 – AMAZING. Right after Martin says “Estonia?” there are a few seconds where it genuinely looks like Malcolm is going to cry. It’s moving as hell, heartbreaking, and some downright kickass acting.
15:56 – Well, that’s not going to help Malcolm’s night terrors. But we definitely have confirmation that Jerry wasn’t as engrossed in the cartoons as Martin suggested.
16:20 – I love this scene. Gil is the whole team’s surrogate father – not just Malcolm’s. Sometimes I forget that. Also – the fact that Chris Fedak waited 16 minutes to show us Gil Arroyo alive and well is a crime.
16:28 – “He wouldn’t dare.” “I know.” How cute is this? Look at Dani’s smile. Ugh. I can’t decide if they know that JT doesn’t want Gil’s job because he loves working with Gil too much or he doesn’t like how much responsibility comes with Gil’s title. Probably a combination of both.
16:35 – Sooo has Malcolm not been visiting Gil? I guess because of COVID he couldn’t but now he’s just not? I mean – Gil would be able to tell how Malcolm’s doing just by looking at him.
17:05 – I’m sorry ‘multiple surgeries’?!? I want elaboration on this.
17:09 – So I googled “British musician Izzy” and the top hit was the guitar player for Guns’n’Roses (who looks kinda like this guy). I have no idea what that means but I found it interesting.
17:30 – Holy shit. Izzy is a nutcase. I love him. hahaha
17:55 – Soooo Malcolm keeps a spray bottle of some sort of magic “show me the blood” water? Nah – the writers wrote it into the show for this scene’s convenience.
18:05 – I love this. Malcolm’s nonchalant approach to his mother and Gil’s budding relationship. He’s like a little kid who doesn’t want to get his hopes up. He’s using the mentality of “If I don’t acknowledge it, it’s not happening. Therefore, if it goes wrong – I won’t get hurt by it.” It’s really sad and I wish he didn’t run away from something that will potentially be good but I also get it.
18:06 – I also respect Malcolm a lot in this scene and am irritated by Dani. Look – they both adore Gil. They’re both protective of Gil (and in Malcolm’s case Jessica). Here’s where they’re different: Malcolm recognizes and respects that Gil and Jessica are adults who can make their own decisions. Dani doesn’t. Dani is acting like a preteen trying to break up Dad and the new step-mom she isn’t sure of. Dani and Malcolm both have their hearts in the right place but I disagree with Dani’s response to the relationship. I also understand where she’s coming from given what we know about Dani’s bio Dad.
18:39 – It’s not supposed to be funny but holy hell. Malcolm putting his head on the floor to listen is hilarious.
19:00 – I’m getting major John Watkins flashbacks. Malcolm breaks down a lot of walls where serial killers once hung out. Is that supposed to be some sort of subtle comment on Malcolm’s character?
20:33 – Damn. Malcolm’s hair is long this season.
20:55 – aannnnnd here are the murder gloves from the Endicott flashbacks.
21:30 – Something about Malcolm dancing to this music in this supremely manic state is really upsetting to me. It just makes me uncomfortable.
22:13 – I’m so worried about Malcolm right now. Holy hell. Get him to Gabrielle. NOW.
23:00 – A skil saw. Pretty much a small version of what Malcolm thinks he dismembered Endicott with. Yikes. Fedak really loves making Malcolm project his issues on murder suspects.
23:27 – Yep. Dani totally thinks Malcolm killed Endicott. She thinks he’s gone dark side and followed Martin’s footsteps. This is not going to be good for their friendship or the trust that they’re rebuilding.
23:50 – One of my favourite things about this show is that it can go from dark and creepy to family sitcom-esque drama in a second. It helps lighten the show’s tone a little. I mean honestly – most of the fans are here for the family drama as opposed to the ‘killer of the week’ storyline anyways.
24:10 – I love this. Jessica admitting to Malcolm that she and Gil have been discussing him for almost 25 years. You can see that Malcolm is 1) a little freaked out and 2) a little touched. For a moment you can see how badly he wants Gil and his Mom to have a long-lasting romantic relationship.
24:32 – OMG. Why did Jessica call Ainsley about Malcolm’s mental state before calling Malcolm? Is that standard Whitly family practice? I have questions.
24:40 – Yep. Dani is Concerned and Scared.
26:46 – Sooo we all agree that Martin was trying to electrocute Jerry to death right? I mean “You really shouldn’t have done that Jer-bear.”?!?! And he’s literally a serial killer?!
27:25 – Mr. David is having none of Martin’s bullshit – so how did Martin get away with it? What does Martin have on Mr. David?
27:50 – “A miracle.” Omg. Hahahaha. I love this show. So. Much.
28:09 – “clearing her brother’s name. Not murder.” Seriously, the parallels between this case and Malcolm’s personal issues are more obvious than usual this episode. Almost to the point where I’m annoyed that the other characters aren’t really catching on.
28:35 – “What happened, his brain break?” I love the way JT can simultaneously tease and be concerned about Malcolm. Ugh. It’s beautiful (and hysterical).
29:07 – Not again. Please stop putting JT in front of the camera. I’m getting second-hand embarrassment and anxiety on his behalf. It hurts to watch (funny too, but mostly painful).
29:19 – Look at Gil. Hahaha he’s so amused by JT’s awkwardness in front of the camera – but you can also see how proud he is. <3 I love papa!Gil.
29:33 – “Police work is patience.” Cute 1x05 callback. And can we all just take a minute to appreciate how much Gil loves Dani. Just look at his proud Dad face!! <3 Warms my cold, dead heart.
30:00 – Oh yeah, Dani is suspicious.
30:04 – I love how Gil seems to be the only person who truly understands Malcolm and all his quirks. <3 I love how much Gil loves Malcolm. <3 I just…ugh. <3 <3 <3 • 30:11 – “I’m a good big brother.” That line cut through my heart. He shouldn’t have been put in this position – choosing between his moral code and his brotherly instincts. It’s not fair and the stress of it is literally killing him.
30:17 – “Messed them up.” Them!?!? I’m sorry Dani, when did you and Gil start talking about Malcolm AND Ainsley?!? Last I checked this was a 100% Malcolm conversation. …she’s not wrong though.
30:33 – “There’s nothing we haven’t talked about.” I love what that suggests. To me – that means they when Dani has a bad break up, they talk about stupid stuff like what they’re cooking for dinner and songs that make them happy. I love that it suggests that Dani and Gil have talked about Jackie. Malcolm might be Gil’s fake-son but Dani is sooo Gil’s fake-daughter. <3 I can just see him getting all overprotective when she gets a new boyfriend even though he knows damn well that Dani is more than capable of taking care of herself – he can’t help it, Dani is his little girl. <3 <3 <3
31:00 – Ugh….ok. So this scene. I’ve seen a lot of mixed reactions about it. I have a bit of a mixed reaction myself tbh. On one hand, I love that they have the type of relationship where they can openly discuss this. On the other hand – it feels forced and it really rubs me the wrong way. Dani is just way out of line here. She’s totally attacking Jessica and Gil is kind of letting her? I mean I think it upsets me so much because Gil isn’t even really defending Jessica. Also, that line about Jackie thinking the Whitly’s are cursed?!? Wtf is that?!? No. No. We know that Jackie loved Malcolm like a son. Jessica has said that Jackie was kind. What is this cursed nonsense?!?!? I refuse to believe it. And the fact that Jessica heard it all breaks my heart. Like – it physically hurts me to watch this scene for all of the above reasons. But I also kind of understand why we got the scene – to further explore the Gil+Dani dynamic and to add some angst to the Jessica/Gil romance.
33:00 – Oh hell yes. I love this danger.
34:10 – Amazing how calm Malcolm is while the killer is literally going through his murder weapon collection. Like he hasn’t been this calm all episode?
35:10 – Ahhhh here’s manic!Malcolm.
35:25 – “Is it my hair?” Okay so totally hilarious, but Dani is listening to this. Can she tell that Malcolm is clearly (and weakly) deflecting the comment about him being a killer like Martin?
35:40 – Malcolm is scared. :( Someone please hug him. This is the most honest he’s been all episode. My heart is broken.
36:20 – Soooo did Malcolm just abstractly tell Dani that he’s a justice killer? Nahhhh I’m totally typing out of my ass.
37:00 – He was on the Harvard fencing team?!? Why is that adorable?
37:34 – Malcolm just cut a dude 3x. No remorse. No more fear. He’s calm. I’m terrified. Does he like hurting the killer?
37:50 – I think Dani suspects that Malcolm killed Endicott. Yep. Definitely.
38:00 – Gorgeous. Absolutely gorgeous. This scene with JT and the cops is heart-wrenching. The fact that Dani and Malcolm come to his rescue is beautiful. The fact that JT is clearly terrified but not angry is perfect. I hate that this scene had to be made but I love how it was executed.
38:31 – Look at Malcolm’s confused, white, rich face here. He genuinely can’t believe that cops just racial profiled one of the only good people who ever accepted a serial’s killer’s son as a friend.
38:40 – I’m crying. JT’s fear (and Frank Harts’ acting) is so believable and completely haunting. I hear the subtext in this scene, “What if those cops killed JT? What would happen to his pregnant wife and unborn child?”, “How is JT going to financially support his family if he loses his job unfairly?”, “How messed up is it that a literal military veteran is terrified of fellow police officers?”.
38:44 – “You didn’t do anything wrong.” This line gives me hope. Malcolm isn’t too far gone. Malcolm still knows right from wrong and he still has a heart of gold.
38:55 – Ok. I LOVE that Gil magically shows up in this scene. BUT HOW DID HE KNOW TO COME TO THE PRECINCT?!?! LIKE WTF? Because Malcolm and JT look surprised to see Gil. Dani just looks relieved – did she call Gil?
39:10 – Gil is an absolute A+ human being. I love him. I will die for him.
39:33 – OMG. JT’s big watery puppy dog eyes have ripped my heart to shreds. <3 :(
39:45 – When I first saw this I thought Malcolm was hurt by Gil’s “and whatever Bright is”. But upon re-watching it – Malcolm looks surprised and so so touched. I’ll be honest – I don’t think Malcolm’s mental state would be so bad right now if he had had regular contact with Gil throughout COVID. Gil is Malcolm’s rock. His literal example of what a good man looks like – without him during a traumatic time Martin creeps back into Malcolm’s psyche.
40:15 – Sooo Martin is still definitely lying to Malcolm.
40:20 – Stupid little thing – there never used to be a toilet on Jerry’s side of the room. And what happened to all of Martin’s books and stuff? Did Claremont put it in storage? I mean he’s a serial killer? Jessica certainly didn’t store it for him.
40:37 – Amazing. As soon as Malcolm physically sees Gil he comes to Martin with a renewed faith in his moral code. (“I stop killers. I don’t help them.”)
41:30 – “Please don’t torture yourself for that.” Martin is right BUT that’s also why I hate him. Martin is manipulating Malcolm right now. He’s trying to convince Malcolm that he genuinely cares and loves his children. Thus destabilizing further Malcolm’s mental state.
41:36 – Also – both Tom Payne and Michael Sheen are acting their asses off here. *chef’s kiss* 10/10. I love to see it.
41:45 – Aaaannnnd there’s Martin the asshole. Completely screwing with Malcolm’s mind. Again. What a dick. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him.
42:00 – Look at how scared Malcolm is. I genuinely think Malcolm (whether or not he actually dismembered Endicott, I suspect he didn’t) feels good when he remembers doing it. This is BAD for Malcolm’s mental health. Yikes. : ( Poor baby.
Ok. So that’s the first episode of season 2. I really liked it. It wasn’t perfect but I’m excited for what this season might bring. Be back next week.
#jess-rewatches-prodigal#malcolm bright#prodigal son#gil arroyo#dani powell#JT Tarmel#ainsley whitly#martin whitly#edrisa tanaka#jessica whitly#I LOVE this show#whump#rewatch#spoliers#malcolm needs a hug#ps#so good#2x01#2x1#it's all in the execution#s2
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Congratulations Ash!
Your application for Katie Bell has been accepted. Katie is a character I’ve rarely given much thought, frankly, but I’ve completely fallen in love with her already. You’ve given her so much depth and involved her so closely in everything that is happening. I can’t wait to see what she gets up to!
Please look to the checklist for the next steps and reach out if you have any questions!
OUT OF CHARACTER
NAME & PRONOUNS: Ash, she/her.
TIMEZONE: PST
ACTIVITY LEVEL: I reckon I am about a six or seven out of ten. I am constantly on mobile and accessible for plotting, but prefer to do all of my replies once I am home from work and have access to a computer.
ANYTHING ELSE: I have ten plus years role-playing experience and I am looking forward to this amazing opportunity to potentially write Katie again for the first time in years. She was one of the first characters I ever wrote in the Harry Potter world and holds a very special place in my heart.
CHARACTER DETAILS
NAME: Katherine Emery Bell ( Katie Bell )
BIRTHDATE: 21 April, 1978.
DEATHDATE: 10 October, 1997 N/A, still alive and kicking.
GENDER, PRONOUNS, and SEXUALITY: Katie is a cisfemale who uses she/her pronouns. She is bisexual, as she was taught to love and embrace everyone for who they were at a young age. It doesn’t matter what they are; she only weighs who they are inside.
BLOOD STATUS: Half-blood.
HOUSE ALUMNI: Gryffindor.
OCCUPTATION: Unspeakable, Death Chamber.
FACECLAIM: Poppy Drayton, though I might want to switch if accepted / after having some time to sleep on it.
CHARACTER BACKGROUND
POSTBELLUM
Like many, Katie too has scars from the war. They are weighted far heavier than she cares to admit and she carries them with her everywhere. In the pocket of her favorite cloak, tightly wrapped around her not just for warmth, but security too; on her broomstick whenever she needs to escape from the static background noise; or to one of her best mate’s houses where she is sure to find relief at the bottom of a shared bottle of fire-whiskey.
Katie shies away from intimacy’s pervasive touch. She does not give her trust away so freely like she once did as a carefree girl. Every instinct to share a piece of herself and love others is met with restraint. These are a few of the repercussions she faces because of the damage inflicted on her. She has been to a dark place; tethered between the realms of life and death while being neither here nor there. She clawed her way back to stable ground, though there are times she questions its permanence. In fact, if anything the war has taught her everything is fleeting. Now she leaves claw marks on everything, but can’t seem to hold onto any of it.
Practically everyone she knows has been touched in some way by the war; some of their scars running far deeper than her own. She lost friends and a part of herself, but many had it off far worse. Katie tries not to linger on her own pain and psychological trauma for that reason. At the end of the day, she survived; the heart beating in her chest confirms she is alive despite sometimes feeling anything but.
Since the war came to pass five years ago ( though at times it feels like a separate lifetime ago ), Katie has channeled her experiences and emotions into molding a successful career as an Unspeakable where she works in the Death Chamber. Since her brush with death at seventeen, Katie found herself unusually fascinated with the subject matter. She spent six months hospitalized in St. Mungo’s, a majority of which she was at what felt like death’s door. She swore she did die, but that was a difficult pill for her to swallow—let alone anyone else, so she kept that secret sealed tightly under lock and key. Katie figured that was the better alternative than being labeled crazy.
It took a long time for her to cope with what occurred, and even longer to bring up the occurrence with those closest to her. Being cursed certainly had its affects; it changed who she was and what made her tick. When she returned to Hogwarts and participated in the final quidditch match of her school-career against Ravenclaw, the game did not give her the same adrenaline filled rush it once had. She unknowingly battled depression and PTSD that year struggling to hold onto all the things she loved. They no longer provided her with sustenance, but she confused these arbitrary feelings with lackluster consequences from a progressive war with what felt like no end insight.
PERSONALITY
As a girl, Katie was known for being carefree and reckless. She was an untamed spirit who had not yet learned about the world’s cruelness. She had no reason then to be the emotionally guarded woman she would become. The final years of the war forced her to grow up much sooner than she ever planned for herself. Her overly-competitive demeanor was combated by a sudden instability. Trust no longer comes as easily for her as it once did. When she was imperiused during her last year of school and subsequently cursed by the Opal Necklace, she felt like she lost a part of herself. She no longer enjoyed many of the same hobbies she once did. She questioned everything, from the motives of her friends to the intricacies of life. She was no longer left in control, but instead reeling with trust issues in the present day—the most concerning being the lack of trust she feels in herself. It is an unspoken feeling, but it looms above her like a dark cloud.
Since being cursed, Katie has been keenly inept at desensitizing and disassociating from reality whenever it doesn’t fit perfectly in the box she has crafted for it. The war left her jaded and its scars provided an unwanted resilience she transformed into armor. She has survived many battles, but even the ones she lost were never for naught. They each made her stronger—just a mere fraction of the woman she will become, but still knowingly has many lessons to learn before fully evolving. However, Katie is plagued with self-doubt. Perhaps that is what holds her back from achieving her full potential.
Katie is now far more reserved than she once was. Her desire for love and ability to share it with others has diminished since she was a child, muted by a perverted sense of drive. She has a bad habit of shutting not only the world out, but those closest to her too. It can be a lonely road at times, so she throws herself into her work with hopeless abandon. She is driven and sees every project through to the very end. Ironically though, her never-ending need to answer life’s most challenging questions is exactly what holds her back from living life to the fullest. She has a one track mind and can become so preoccupied, or short-sighted, she forgets to hold onto what is really important.
BRIEF OVERVIEW OF FAMILY
Katie grew up in a happy family with very relaxed core values. Her parents always demonstrated love to her and her brother, Christian, even when they weren’t the most deserving or receptive. Olivia and Rhys Bell loved each other fiercely; that was one consistent factor in Katie’s life. As the youngest Bell in the family of four, she was spoiled and fussed over more than she cares too admit. She recalls all the arguments and tiffs her and Christian got into over the years—a trait that seemed to follow the pair into adulthood. Their parents on the other hand hardly ever fought. Katie believed there must be occasions they clashed with one another, but it was evident they were far more emotionally reserved than their children. They made a point not to fight in front of them, which always raised the question of where their children’s argumentative tendencies came from.
It was important for Olivia and Rhys to make their children feel empowered starting at a young age. They wanted to instill in them a strong sense of confidence that would allow them to break through any obstacles in their way or complete whatever task they set out on. As survivors of the first wizarding wixen war, and Olivia being a muggle-born, it was imperative to them their children didn’t embody the same fear or embrace any limitations as they once did. This nurturing mindset is exactly how Katie got into flying. Her father gifted a toy broomstick to her one Christmas when she was no more than six years old. She can recall the sheer horror on her mother’s face that morning; it was evident she was not in on the surprise, otherwise there probably would have been no broom at all that year. Christian had received one a few years prior and Olivia’s excitement over the matter quickly disintegrated when he lost control and spiraled into their garden trellis. Christian didn’t fly again until his first year lessons, however his sister’s abilities came far more natural than his own.
Once Olivia realized her daughter was more agile than her first born, she quickly warmed up to the idea. After she mastered and eventually outgrew the dainty toy broomstick, it was her mom who splurged for her first trainer’s broom. Katie excitedly whipped the new broom around their property, memorizing every trace of it from the new safe haven she had discovered. Flying became an escape for her. Quidditch always brought much excitement, but flying was what truly made her feel at peace with herself. Over the years she fully mastered the skill ( while running through her fair share of broomsticks ), and Katie knew she had her parents to thank for supporting her in spite of themselves and pushing her forward every time she wanted to quit. Though her quidditch career eventually faded away, her love for flying never wavered as her unconditional love for her parents and brother never has.
Present day, Katie and her family still share a special bond. Her parents continue to support all her endeavors even if they don’t necessarily agree or understand them. At times Katie is aware there is a disconnect between them, but it is something she can’t seem to avoid. Olivia and Rhys witnessed their daughter go from a bubbly and charismatic girl to someone almost unrecognizable at times, but since the war is still so fresh for everyone it has become easier to turn the other cheek.
HISTORY
Katie always considered her life very ordinary. Her parents worked hard to ensure her and her brother had a good life. They were a close-knit family and, though they got on her nerves on occasion, there was nothing she wouldn’t do for them. Katie recalls her childhood fondly. Olivia read books to both her children frequently, however Katie found herself to be easily distracted. Her head would wander to the sky where she would pluck shapes out of the clouds. Christian was the calm and retentive child—it was much easier for their parents to hold his attention. Katie on the other hand was a bumbling ball of energy since she was of crawling age. She would color the walls or demolish Christian’s toys if left unattended. It was much easier to hold her attention whenever baking was involved. Katie had a knack for sweets, though the thought of giving her more sugar didn’t always appeal. Still, she somehow persuaded her mum into baking cookies with her often. These were some of the best days of her childhood.
As soon as Katie was gifted her first toy broomstick, a spark ignited. Flying undoubtedly was her first love. Whenever her and Christian had a sibling squabble or he was getting on her nerves, she would run to her broomstick immediately and take flight; and when it was his time to leave for Hogwarts and she was left behind for three more years, flying became her therapy and release. It remedied the loneliness.
When it was finally time for Katie to head off to Hogwarts, her natural charisma and energetic personality really shined through in all she did. She made friends quickly and they became a forefront in her life. She fed off the energy of those around her and subsequently became a member of numerous school clubs. Joining the Gryffindor quidditch team her second year was the highlight of her entire school-career. She considered those initial years to be the best of all; her original teammates quickly became a second family to her. It was a feeling that still echoed long after their glory days on the quidditch pitch.
When Lord Voldemort returned, Katie found herself at a loss for words. She considered Harry Potter a friend and teammate. No one in her inner circle doubted him nor did she, however she did have a difficult time comprehending just what that meant. Cedric Diggory was also a friend; like many, seeing his body in the aftermath of the Tri-Wizard Tournament was Katie’s first brush with death. It was evident to the then fifteen year old that only something vile and cruel could take the life of someone like Cedric—someone with so much potential. She jumped at the opportunity to join Dumbledore’s Army for that reason. She believed in the cause and, reflecting on the pain the first war put her own parents through, Katie had to believe there was a reason she wound up here when she did.
Katie genuinely did not believe anything could be more difficult than that period of time, but her seventh year was one of the most challenging of all. Katie was not sure when the trip to Hogsmeade went awry on that beautiful fall day. There was excitement in the air despite the frigid temperature that brought the first snowfall of the season. That is one of the only memory’s Katie holds onto from that day. She later woke up in St. Mungo’s where she was told she had been for six months recovering from a fatal curse.
With a hoarse voice and fear filling her eyes, Katie asked the first healer she saw if she was dead.
The healer laughed as if she made some kind of joke. “ No honey, you’re lucky to be alive. ”
Lucky to be alive.
Except the problem was Katie didn’t feel anything, least of all alive. She spent the last six months in a foreign place, but didn’t feel nearly as lost or confused there as she did now that she was back in the earthly dimension.
The phrase continues to haunt her six years after her near-death experience. Maybe the Healer was right and she should feel lucky, but she doesn’t. Now that the war has come to pass, she is riddled with guilt. She cannot walk away from what happened to her six years ago despite making it out of the war alive. That alone should be enough reason to celebrate, but it is not. There are too many unanswered questions and Katie understands better than most who survived the war that everyone is borrowed time. She cannot unsee the place she spent six months of her life trapped in. She is desperate to understand it and even more desperate to know if the souls of her lost friends now inhabit the same space.
OOC EXPLORATION
WHAT ARE YOU MOST LOOKING FORWARD TO?
This group captivated my attention immediately upon discovery. The Trio Era is what originally got me into role-playing Harry Potter and the Marauders is what kept me, so this role-play truly is the perfection combination. I have been looking for a group to join for some time now and your group has one of the freshest and most unique concepts I’ve ever seen! Plus, it is obvious the passion and care that has gone into creating this group. I am excited to potentially be a part of the journey and see where the story takes us all together.
EXTRA FOR NON-BIO CHARACTERS
CHARACTER CONTRIBUTION
Katie possesses a lot of versatility with her character. She naturally has an outgoing and charismatic personality, and is quick at adapting to her surroundings. She has always been an integral part of whatever community she is a part of—ranging from her time at Hogwarts on the quidditch team, in the dueling club, or Dumbledore’s Army; to her career beyond the castle’s walls. She has proved herself a loyal friend to many. I think her experience being cursed by the Opal Necklace makes her an imperative character because she has knowledge from that ordeal others might not be equipped with, which she has channeled into a career within the Ministry of Magic as an Unspeakable.
I headcanon that when Katie was cursed by the necklace during her seventh year, she spent a large portion of her time in St. Mungo’s unconscious. During this period she had an out of body experience where she thought she was dead. She tightly holds onto the secret that she visited what may be known to some as limbo, purgatory, or the underworld out of fear of being labelled crazy. She doesn’t dismiss her experience though; she clings to it, and it to effects every aspect of her life.
Katie’s brush with death made her obsessed with the idea of it. Since the war’s conclusion she has tried to dissect the mechanics of life and death, but had no success. Everyday feels the exact same; she is capped out with little to show for her efforts. That is, until the first of the returned makes their appearance through the veil. This ignites a new obsession in Katie all over again.
PRESENT
“ Have you heard? ” A stocky Unspeakable buzzed with excitement as he pushed passed Katie and exited the elevator lift.
“ Heard what? ” The woman quipped in his direction as she rubbed her tired eyes, but by the time she gathered her senses he was already hurrying off down the corridor. Katie shrugged her shoulders back and dismissed the interaction before continuing along in the same direction. Unusual occurrences were the norm in this part of the Ministry so she didn’t think much of it. She was already getting a late start on her day anyway so she decided to quicken her pace as she rounded the corner leading to her dual office/laboratory, where she was forced to stop abruptly when she came across a throng of other Unspeakables littering the hallway. Katie quirked a brow upon the realization everyone was huddled near the Death Chamber.
“ What is going on? ” She asked the same Unspeakable who she spotted standing nearby.
“ You don’t know? ” Emerson gaped, which annoyed Katie slightly. “ They are saying someone has returned through the veil. ”
“ What do you mean ‘returned through the veil?’ I didn’t realize we were trying to send anyone to the other-side— ”
“ No, someone no longer living returned through the veil. They came back from the dead. ”
“ Impossible, ” Katie uttered in protest, but her own near-death experience quickly replayed in her head. She was only seventeen when she swore she too briefly died, so maybe it wasn’t impossible for the dead to return after all.
“ No really, a boy was found wandering the corridors naked this morning. Creevy is what they’re calling him. ”
Katie stood silent for a moment as she processed what she had just been informed. “ Someone came back to life? Through the veil? ” The witch repeated as her dark eyes swirled with sudden intensity. Emerson merely nodded. “ I sure picked a hell of a day to be late. ” She concluded completely gobsmacked.
“ You won’t make that mistake again, ” Emerson chuckled before disappearing off into the crowd to try and sneak a closer look.
And he was right. From that day forward, Katie was never late again. She always put her best foot forward when it came to her career, but the stakes suddenly felt like they had been raised even higher upon the departed’s return. The one thing she now knows for certain is that this might be the only opportunity she has to find answers to the questions that have been tormenting her for the last six years—and she doesn’t plan on letting this moment pass her by like she did unwittingly the last one.
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Lmao I’m too weak willed to not get pulled further into this AU. Basically at this point all this means is that leading up to Eddie Begins, Buck and Eddie have primed themselves for the Big Transition in their relationship. So instead of the fight club arc, Eddie gets a growth arc not rooted in violence. He has Buck to help him through some of rougher emotions that comes along with unpacking all his trauma, but it helps that they can bond over similar nights out stationed. It helps Buck, too, to process through some of the things he’s been too ashamed to unpack, because he’s always thought of being kicked out of the force as this great failure so it means something too deep for Buck when Eddie tells him the army just taught Buck what kind of person he was destined to be; how he wouldn’t have learned this intrinsic need to be actively saving people if he didn’t “fail” at what the army asked of him. That everything has led him into finding what he’s meant to do, and not to question the road he had to take to get there because every step is already behind him.
How it’s a lesson Eddie learns for himself, while he’s learning to let himself be happier while in the moment. That he comes to accept his marriage to Shannon wasn’t a failure because it gave them Chris and the decade or so between them gave them the ability to work as a team when needed to co-parent their son. It wasn’t a failure, because Eddie learns everything a husband isn’t so he feels comfortable entering a relationship with Buck, knowing full well there’s hope for a happy future in the end since Eddie’s more sure of his ability to be a good partner now.
So imagine these two working so hard to get to a point where they can safely and responsibly move forward with their relationship. Imagine how heated the moments would start getting, the closer they realize they are to taking That Step. Imagine the satisfaction for character growth when we see the lessons Buck learned with Abby actually stick, and what a good throwback it would be to s1 when Buck had tried so hard not to be sexual with Abby so as not to mess things up but in the end couldn’t help but start a relationship—and look at him now, and imagine that sweet gratification from Buck jumping into waiting without hesitation when it comes to Eddie. Knowing without a doubt that even the chance to start something with his best friend would be the best decision of his life, and he’d wait forever if he had to. (But he’s really hoping forever doesn’t last much longer, tbh.)
And then imagine Eddie Begins happens. And tbh, Buck wouldn’t act much differently lbr. Boy acted like his entire world was ripped from him when Eddie disappeared, so. I really don’t think that could get much better reaction wise. But man oh man the aftermath would be so much sweeter.
Just imagine the absolute knee-shattering relief Buck would feel at seeing Eddie again—haggard and worn but alive—and him and Christopher spending the night at Eddie’s bedside since the doctors insist on overnight monitoring. Imagine how Eddie doesn’t even fight Chris this time when he insists on staying with his Buck and his daddy, and Shannon doesn’t even say anything about it when she drops off a late late dinner for them before visitor hours close. Honestly, she almost looked like she was halfway considering asking to stay too, but Eddie is grateful she only looked at the three of them with a watery smile that was way too accepting to be anything other than defeat, and bowed out.
Imagine how full Eddie’s chest would be as he watches Buck hold a sleeping Christopher in the most awkward position Eddie knows can’t be comfortable while they’re both shoved into the crappy hospital recliner instead of the cot. Chris is still facing Eddie—unwilling to take his eyes off his dad the entire time he was fighting sleep—and Buck is gently rocking the chair with one foot propped against the edge of Eddie’s bed. Eddie is fairly certain Buck hasn’t realized Chris is passed out yet, because he’s just still humming some off tune pop song that was on the radio on the way to the station at the start of their shift this morning, one hand sifting through the soft curls at the crown of Chris’ head and the other idly flipping channels on the silent tv in the corner of the room.
Eddie realizes there’s no doubt about how much he loves the man next to him as he watches Buck’s—large, strong, gentle—hands brush down Chris’ hair to his his back, nothing but the picture of love and adoration as he sits next to Eddie at two in the morning in the hospital after Eddie nearly died. Eddie realizes this cramped room still feels like home, because Buck is with him and Chris is safe between them. Eddie realizes that there is no way he can make it without having Buck beside him in life the way he is now, for the rest of his life.
Eddie realizes it doesn’t matter that they haven’t figured out the intimate bits of their relationship; he’s had enough stirred within him the countless times he’s caught himself staring at Buck doing something stupidly endearing to know they’ll definitely figure it out with enough practice. And the practice is something Eddie is really, really looking forward to.
Eddie realizes—in between Buck sighing softly and giving up on the TV, switching the power off and changing tune on his humming, making it lower and harder for Eddie to hear as he scoops his arm under Chris and readjusts so his head is better supported—that Buck already knows how to integrate into Eddie and Christopher’s lives as a stepfather, because he’s already excelled at being such a positive adult influence in Christopher’s life that most of Chris’ teachers already assume Buck and Eddie’s relationship status.
Hell, they even had to sit over the kitchen table with receipts and job records and shit this year when tax season rolled around, because they had so many intertwining finances ever since Buck moved in it was just easier for them to do them together to make sure nothing got left out.
Eddie just realizes he’s always had this picture-perfect image of a family in his head and he’s built something so much better, and they’re crammed into a crappy recliner beside him and there’s nowhere else he’d rather be right now.
So in between one breath and the next, Eddie has asked, “Marry me?” like the words are light as air.
Air which chokes Buck, who freezes and has to check to make sure he hasn’t woken up the sleeping nine year old in his arms. He meets Eddie’s gaze with so much burning heat Eddie wishes there was a way for them to get a jumpstart on that practice. “You’re serious?”
“Would never joke about it, not with you,” Eddie tells him evenly, catching Buck’s eyes and refusing to let them go.
“Then yes. Yes, of course,” Buck grins, and it’s a blinding thing but Eddie just lets himself bask in it.
Anyway yeah that would have been cool for s3. Haven’t put much thought on how it would affect 3x16 and 3x17 but I’m sure there’s more you could explore still having Abby come back.
Either way anyway who has stuck along this weird not-fic ride with me thanks! My inbox is always open if anyone wants to chat meta shit like this with me.
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New Beginnings (Chapter 7)
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New Beginnings Baby Drabble
New Beginnings Baby Drabble No2
Warnings : mentions of loss, grieving and some explicit content
For the first few days Emily convalesced after the surgery and they didn’t leave home. They had only told a few people about the pregnancy (Keanu’s mum, her parents, Karina, Chloe) but so far Karina was the only one who knew what had happened.
She’d obviously told their mother and had offered to make the other calls but Keanu said he’d do it. 4 days later he still hadn’t faced up to it. He didn’t quite know how to form the words in his mouth. Just thinking about it made his stomach churn and brought the trauma of this loss AND of his daughter over 20 years before back in living colour. The hospital rooms, the doctors’ words.
Emily was facing similar struggles. She spent most of the time in bed but restful sleep was hard to come by and she too kept reliving the pain and the shock of discovering the pregnancy wasn’t viable.
Toward the end of the week he was forced to deal with it though. They were dozing in bed at just after 9 when Emily’s phone rang.
“What?” he heard her whisper as she listened to the voice on the phone.
“No, I’m not there because my baby is dead” she hissed.
He reached over and grabbed the phone from her realising what must have happened. They had been due to go for the first scan that morning but somehow the system hadn’t caught up with the obstetrics department to let them know about the ectopic pregnancy.
“Just what the hell do you think you’re doing calling here?” he berated the poor woman on the phone, don’t you have proper communication channels, it’s been 4 days!”
Emily could hear the beginnings of a flustered apology from the woman but it was quickly cut off as Keanu ended the call, immediately feeling terrible for unleashing his anger on someone whose fault it clearly wasn’t.
He sat up and sighed, pulling Emily to his chest.
“I’m gonna have to make those calls today. Chloe and your mum will be expecting us to check in”
Emily just sniffed acknowledging that this was the next step they had to take.
“Can we go back to the counsellor” she asked “I think we probably need some help dealing with this ……….. rage.”
“yeah, I’ll call her too. If I don’t I’m just gonna hurt someone or something!”
Chloe got a taxi over as soon as she heard the news, leaving Rosie and Jamie with John. She couldn’t drive yet because of having a C-section but she didn’t want to wait to offer some comfort to one of her oldest friends. When she got there, she just climbed into bed with Emily, wrapped her arms around her and held her friend, letting her cry it out.
OCTOBER
The next 3 months had been tough and sometimes just one day seemed to pass agonisingly slowly but gradually their lives felt like they were getting back on track. Accepting that they’d likely never have their own biological children was a harsh reality to face especially when close friends like Chloe and John had already completed their families, watching their children grow and take on their physical and personality traits.
Babysitting for Chloe and John had been one of the biggest milestones they’d faced along the way. The image of Emily sitting on the sofa at Chloe and John’s house giving Rosie her bedtime bottle was seared into Keanu’s mind, making him remember the day Emily had held Jake and felt the pull inside to have her own child. They’d talked the idea through with the counsellor before offering to babysit. It almost felt like doing it would cauterise a wound. The counsellor had explained that while confronting their loss in the form of baby Rosie might feel like it would burn them too deeply, it was one way of facing the pain full on. The alternative was boxing it up and not letting it breathe and Keanu remembered doing just that after Ava. The only way his sadness and rage has made itself known for years was through acting. Otherwise it had been boxed away into his early 40s and when he did face it, its power after 6 years surprised and terrified him. He was determined not to do the same this time
The fact that they were no longer trying helped as did the fact that their time thinking she was pregnant was so brief. At least she hadn’t started to really think about when the baby was due and the future in too much detail. Having known friends who’d been through loss before, she knew that building a little dream future only to lose it was often the hardest part. Still, they were still letting go of a precious dream and some days that pain hit either one of them like a ton of bricks.
Another aspect of life that helped the clouds to lift was that each had exciting new projects coming up that were going to keep them very busy. In anticipation of having no more free time, they booked a trip back to Italy. First came a week in Capri visiting Keanu’s sister Kim and then another week back in Taormina Sicily.
They had a wonderful time despite Emily being laid low for a couple of days with a stomach flu but she made a swift recovery and they were able to enjoy their time visiting their favourite restaurant again and discovering historical sites that they’d missed on their first visit.
They ended their trip in what was becoming a sort of tradition with them – a whole morning in bed where Keanu dedicated himself to bringing her to multiple orgasms before finally taking her to the edge of heaven, burying himself deep inside her.
They vowed to take each day as it came, enjoy their work, live in the moment and love each other.
On her return Emily planned to get a coil fitted so she could stop using hormones and be secure with her birth control until she no longer needed it. After the ectopic pregnancy they’d used condoms briefly and then she’d restarted the pill. For the trip, Emily had deliberately left no gap between 2 courses of the pill towards the end of their holiday to avoid spoiling it with a period. Once she was back she could visit her gynaecologist and move forward.
A couple of weeks after their return to LA, Emily had her appointment about the coil. She explained her circumstances to the nurse who was sympathetic about what she’d gone through. The work up involved some blood tests, a smear and a pregnancy test just to be sure especially since she hadn’t had a period for almost 6 weeks by then. They made a follow up appointment for the following week with Keanu too since she recommended they have a chat with a counsellor before the coil fitting, just to make sure this was the best route for them as a couple. The coil would usually stay in place for a minimum of 5 years and since they’d had a relatively recent loss, they were a little cautious.
The next week they were madly rushing to squeeze in the appointment then run on to a training session for Keanu and a writers’ room for Emily.
The doctor came into the consulting room to Emily’s surprise as she was expecting the counsellor or nurse she’d seen the week before to just run through the results and check in that Keanu agreed with their course of action.
“So, I have the results of your tests here and they mean we won’t be progressing with the coil fitting today”
Emily huffed a little, irritated that this whole procedure was becoming far less straightforward than she’d expected.
“Why not, what’s wrong?”
Actually nothing is wrong at all …… our tests indicate that you’re pregnant”
Their mouths fell simultaneously agape and they looked at each other in shock”
“that can’t be right, I’ve been on birth control ………….” Emily stammered. She was surprised to find herself less than pleased with this news. She squeezed Keanu’s hand as a wave of fear rushed through her. She wanted a baby so much but being pregnant had become inextricably linked with loss and despair.
Keanu’s thoughts were much the same – after all, as far as he knew, he’d got two women pregnant in his life and both times had ended in disaster.
“What birth control have you been using?”
“For the past 3 months I’ve been on the pill and I took 2 packets consecutively recently as we went on holiday”
“And have you had any stomach upsets or been on any other medication such as antibiotics?”
Emily started to shake her head but then Keanu tugged her hand
“you had that stomach flu in Italy, remember, you were throwing up for a couple of days ……. His voice drifted off and the doctor grinned
“That will likely be the reason” he said “the pill was probably not absorbed into the bloodstream when you were sick causing it to fail. It’s a very common mistake not to realise your birth control is compromised when that happens. Well why don’t we take a look to check what’s going on” he said beckoning Emily over to the consulting table. “We want to be sure everything is in the right place given your last pregnancy was ectopic.”
Still in shock, Emily lay on the table and eased her trousers down to reveal her flat belly. The doctor rubbed on the cold jelly and pulled over the wand of the ultrasound machine.
Keanu felt light-headed. He realised he’d probably been holding his breath since the doctor started explaining how come she might be pregnant. He blew out his breath slowly, eyes fixed on the screen.
The screen showed the cone shape image in white generated by the ultrasound waves and within it the black oval shape of Emily’s womb came into view.
“There it is” the doctor declared happily while Keanu and Emily both stared wondering what on earth he was taking about. Then he helped them, pointing to a little peanut shape within the dark circle whose image seemed to flash on an off.
“There, that’s it, do you see now?”
“Yeah but why does it keep disappearing? Keanu asked
“That’s its heart beating – I always think of it like a little lighthouse flashing to tell you it’s still there”
“So it’s in the right place, not ectopic this time” Emily asked, her voice wavering.
“Everything looks perfect” he smiled reassuringly at them both. “I tell you what, why don’t I just give you a minute alone. If you keep holding the wand right there you can watch your baby and get used to the idea. I guess it’s quite a shock”
“I’ll say” Keanu muttered softly.
As the door closed behind the doctor, Emily just stared at Keanu
“Oh my god this is …”
“unbelievable” he finished her sentence
“mmmm” she nodded
“I don’t think I’m gonna make my writers room” she laughed
“nor me my training” he agreed.
They turned and looked at the monitor again and sure enough there was the little flickering peanut letting them know it was there.
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New Beginnings Baby Drabble
New Beginnings Baby Drabble No2
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Fic: Dead Man Walking (3/?)
Summary: Prime Ministers don’t normally wake up in morgues after they’ve been murdered, but that’s exactly what Robert Sutherland has just done. Right in front of Lacey’s nose. With limited resources and not knowing who to trust, Sutherland and Lacey must work together to get to the bottom of the attempted assassination.
Based loosely on this dream I had.
Rated: T, eventually E.
Note: This is meant to be ‘darkly humorous and amusing mystery’ rather than ‘gripping political thriller’…
[One] [Two] [AO3]
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Dead Man Walking
Three
Something was wrong. Carrie had known that something was wrong from the moment that the Head of the Civil Service had told her to go home. He had told her in forceful and no uncertain terms to go home, and not to come back until he called her.
Now that Robert was… gone, Sir Albert Spencer, Head of the Civil Service, was her de facto boss, so she couldn’t really contradict him.
She hadn’t really focussed on the fact that something was wrong at the time, because at the time, she had just found the Prime Minister dead in his private office in Chequers and had been through all the necessary trauma of calling the police and the ambulance and making statements and officially identifying the body and watching her boss being taken away covered in a sheet.
She had settled in for a long night of enforcing a complete press blackout until cause of death could be determined, and of enacting several antiquated procedures related to ‘what happens when a Prime Minister dies in office’ that no one had needed to enact since 1812.
Ironically, the last Prime Minister to die in office was also the first and only to be assassinated.
Carrie seriously suspected that he was not in fact the only one.
She seriously suspected that Sir Albert knew something, and that was the reason why she, ostensibly the closest person to the Prime Minister, had been pretty much forcibly removed from Chequers and told to go home, that there was nothing she could do, that she’d had a traumatic evening and everyone else would take care of things.
Carrie sighed, continuing to stare at the chintzy floral wallpaper of her mother’s living room and wondering if the decision to start drinking as soon as she’d got home was a good one. Having been told to go home, Carrie had pointed out that, whilst the Prime Minister was away from London and she was with him, Chequers was her home, Sir Albert had politely reminded her that her mother lived not ten miles away from Chequers, and gave her a pointed look that told her, without the need for words, where he expected her to go.
Her mother, owner of a house in a small village in the middle of nowhere, had found her outside the house, crying her eyes out with angry tears of loss and frustration as she kicked the garden wall to within an inch of the stonework’s life.
She’d steered her inside, given her some elderflower wine to calm her down, and, Official Secrets Act be damned, had listened to Carrie pour out all her woes. To her credit, Mrs de Ville had not batted an eyelid at the fact that the Prime Minister had died of a suspected heart attack, and she had just kept topping up her daughter’s glass. Carrie raised an eyebrow as the drink kept flowing. At least she knew where she got it from.
They’d moved on from elderflower wine onto gin now, and it was now getting on for one in the morning. Mrs de Ville was snoring gently in her chair, and Carrie’s thoughts were coming full circle. Something was wrong. There was no way Robert had had a heart attack.
Yes, he was a smoker, and yes, he was under a lot of stress, but he’d been in good health lately, and there had been nothing wrong with him all day. Surely he’d show some kind of symptoms of impending doom.
This wasn’t supposed to have happened. This was supposed to her holiday, for fuck’s sake. Parliament wasn’t in session; everything was winding down for the summer. There had just been a couple of meetings about more sensitive policy matters for the next session that Robert had said couldn’t wait - so they’d arranged for a few private meetings at Chequers to go over it. Carrie had come down to be on hand if he needed her. Which, all things considered when it came to Robert losing his temper and threatening to do something stupid, was rather likely.
“Someone killed him,” she muttered darkly to the wallpaper.
The chilling thought was that the pool of suspects was incredibly small, given how few people were around. It was someone in the Cabinet, or the Civil Service, or the Chequers staff.
Carrie shook her head. She was getting paranoid. It was the wine. And the gin probably hadn’t helped either. He’d had a heart attack, it was terribly tragic, and half the public would mourn, and the other half would rejoice when they found out, and that was the way of it.
Except for the Head of the Civil Service locking her out of the proceedings. She couldn’t get those suspicions out of her head.
“Who killed who, darling?” Mrs de Ville jerked awake. “I do love a good murder. I always fancied myself as a Miss Marple, but our village is nowhere near as prone to death as St Mary Mead.”
“Someone killed the Prime Minister.”
“Oh yes, that.” Mrs de Ville held up the wine bottle - nowhere near the first they’d got through - and found it empty. “Well, why don’t you do a little investigation? With your connections, you should be in a perfect position to find things out.”
She wasn’t, though. She was sitting in her mother’s living room whilst the Head of the Civil Service tried very hard to keep her from finding anything out.
For the first time in her life, Carrie was actually beginning to wish that she hadn’t drunk so much.
Her phone began to ring, pulling her out of her morbid contemplation. She grabbed it excitedly, convinced that it would be Sir Albert calling her to bring her back into the fold (although how much use she’d be after a bottle and a half of wine was debatable), and she was brought up short when the number showed as unknown; a comparatively local landline number.
Maybe the press had already got wind of what had happened and were calling her for a statement. Admittedly, one in the morning was an odd time for it, but Carrie had long since learned after a lifetime in politics that journalism never slept.
The phone continued to ring, and finally, she answered.
“Hello?”
“Carrie, it’s me.”
“What?” Carrie was very glad that she was already sitting down because she would most certainly have fallen over had she not been.
“It’s me, Carrie! For fuck’s sake!” Robert certainly sounded like himself, and certainly sounded alive, and Carrie was really beginning to wish that she hadn’t drunk so much because her brain was operating at a speed slower than a snail wading through treacle.
“But you’re dead!” she hissed. “I saw you. You were dead. Very dead.”
“Well, evidently not quite as dead as everyone thought.”
“What, how… Where are you?”
“I’m still in the morgue.”
“You’re calling me from the morgue?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“With a phone! Carrie… Have you been drinking?”
“Of course I’ve been drinking, you walnut! My boss just died, I just got put on indefinite garden leave, and I’ve been drowning my sorrows in elderflower wine for the last four hours!”
“Bloody hell, you must be desperate. Elderflower wine? Never mind. Look, I need your help; you’re the only person I trust.”
“I…” Carrie remembered her own conviction that Robert had been murdered and took his point. “Yes. All right. What do you need?”
“To find out who tried to kill me, that would be a good start. And getting out of this place would be good. And some aspirin. So far my only partner in crime is a trainee forensic scientist who isn’t even supposed to be here and who seems worryingly interested in my arse.”
Carrie could just about make out a young, female voice in the background of the call. “Your arse is very interesting.”
“You know, I have to agree with the trainee forensic scientist who isn’t even supposed to be there.”
“You’re drunk, Carrie. Look…” There was a heavy sigh on the other end of the line. “I really, really need you right now.”
Carrie nodded despite the fact he couldn’t see her. “Yes. Ok. I’ll be there. Where are you? I mean, apart from the morgue.”
“Stoke Mandeville hospital,” said the almost-forensic scientist.
“Ok. Just…” Carrie had no idea what kind of advice to offer a man who’d just risen from the dead and was hiding in a morgue. “Just… hang in there.”
“I’ll try.”
“I’ll see you as soon as I can. Oh, and Robert?”
“Yes?”
“I’m so glad that you’re alive.”
The call ended. Carrie was suddenly painfully and horribly sober, and she jumped up out of the squashy armchair she’d been ensconced in ever since her mother had levered her away from the garden wall before she could kick it down. The suddenness of the action alarmed Mrs de Ville.
“Where are you going, darling?”
“Stoke Mandeville. Robert’s alive and stuck in a morgue and I have to go and get him out and work out who tried to kill him and…”
She fumbled for her car keys, and Mrs de Ville came over, closing her wrinkled hands over Carrie’s shaking ones.
“Darling, I’m not going to be responsible for you ending up in the hospital you’re trying to get to. We’ll get a taxi.”
“We?”
“Well, naturally I’m coming with you. You can’t exactly trust anyone else in this game, and you’re going to need all the help you can get on this one. I just finished the latest Kathy Reichs; we’ll make the perfect team.”
Carrie was not altogether convinced, but her mother was right. She was going to need some help, and none of her usual channels would be available to her, especially if Sir Albert was running interference. It wasn’t like anyone would suspect a seemingly harmless septuagenarian; maybe she could help out with bluffing Carrie’s way into the hospital.
Ten minutes later found Carrie and her mother sitting in the back of a taxi on their way to Stoke Mandeville. The driver, an incredibly cynical woman named Ursula, had raised an eyebrow at their destination and suggested calling an ambulance instead, until Carrie had reassured her that neither she nor her mother were in need of medical attention.
Ursula had not seemed entirely convinced by this, especially since Mrs de Ville was swaying slightly, but had nonetheless begun the drive to the hospital. At this time of the night the roads were empty, and they made good time. It was only once they were nearing the carpark that Carrie realised they’d hit a major snag. Namely, she had no idea where the morgue was in relation to anywhere else in the hospital.
Also, if she was going to be sneaking the supposedly dead Prime Minister out of the hospital, taking him out through the main entrance probably wouldn’t be a good idea. If the press didn’t know that something odd had happened in the upper echelons of government before, then they certainly would after that.
“Can you just go round the block a bit and park up in a side street?” she asked.
Ursula raised her eyebrows in the rear-view mirror.
“Are you mad? There’s nowhere to park within about a mile of the place.”
“You can leave the meter running,” Carrie said. “We’ll be back as soon as we can.”
“Listen, madam, I don’t know what you’re doing, calling taxis in the middle of the night to take you to hospitals that you evidently want to get into furtively, but I am not partaking in any criminal activity. Once I drop you off, I’m out of here.”
“No! Please, we’ll need to go back again. And I promise that there is nothing illegal going on.”
Carrie knew that she probably didn’t sound all that convincing, but at the same time, she was desperate to get Robert out of the morgue and into somewhere safe, and right now this taxi was the only safe harbour she had.
Ursula heaved a sigh. “All right. There’s a little alley parallel to the ambulance station; there’s usually space in there and you can try and sneak in via Resus. But you pay for this journey now; I’m not going to hang around indefinitely.”
“You are a lifesaver. Quite possibly literally.” Carrie blew her a kiss from the back seat and Ursula rolled her eyes, but Carrie caught the slightest hint of a smile in the mirror.
The taxi pulled up and Carrie counted out change plus a generous tip, praying that Ursula would still be there when they got back. She considered leaving her mother in the car as insurance, but Mrs de Ville was already out of the taxi and scuttling towards the Resus entrance.
Carrie had never seen her mother scuttle before. Maddie de Ville had always been poised and dignified, and for a few moments all Carrie could do was stare in bewilderment, finally putting it down to the drink and following her as furtively as she could manage with that much elderflower wine inside her.
Quite how they managed to get inside without anyone noticing that anything was amiss would be a source of amazement to Carrie for the rest of her days, but they managed to make it out of A&E by refuge of sheer audacity and acting like they were definitely supposed to be there.
Now all they had to do was make it to the morgue.
“I think it’s this way.” Mrs de Ville was studying the hospital map on the wall intently. The morgue was not marked, but she tapped one long, red fingernail at the stairwell. “They’re usually in the basement.”
It was as good a place to start looking as any, and Carrie followed her mother towards the stairs, striding along the basement corridors with a confidence that neither of them felt but that would hopefully stop anyone from questioning them.
They had stopped to look at another map when they heard it.
“Pst!”
Carrie glanced over her shoulder. A young woman was leaning out of an unmarked doorway.
“Carrie de Ville?” she asked.
Carrie nodded once, uncertainly.
“Great. I’m Lacey French, almost-forensic scientist. I’ve got something of yours here.”
Carrie crossed the corridor and peered into the room – it turned out to be a linen closet – past Lacey.
Robert was there. He was looking rather worse for wear, but then, he had just been murdered so that was probably forgivable. Carrie knew that she wouldn’t be looking much better herself and she didn’t even have the excuse of waking up in a morgue.
“Robert!”
She pushed past Lacey and threw her arms around him. “Oh, darling, I’m so glad that you’re all right!”
Robert gave a weak laugh. “It’s good to see you too, Carrie.”
“Come on, let’s get out of here. There’s a taxi waiting.”
“Thank God for that,” said Lacey. “I really didn’t want to have to take him on the back of my moped. Let’s roll. Keep an eye out for Suits, the place is crawling with them.”
She led the way out of the linen closet and along the corridor, and Carrie, Robert and Mrs de Ville rushed to keep up with her.
Carrie had to smile, despite everything that was going on. She’d never met anyone less likely to be a forensic scientist, and anyone less likely to have helped the Prime Minister in his hour of need.
She felt that she was going to like Lacey French.
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World on Fire, Episode 5: Us-Versus-Them
Late May 1940—Early June 1940
Harry’s BEF unit has dwindled down to four exhausted men straggling through the fog. Belgium has fallen to the German invasion. Refugees and soldiers line the roads all the way to the horizon as hundreds, if not thousands, walk to the coast. Stuka screamers swoop down over them in a practice called strafing.
Harry’s unit picks up a lost French girl and her dog and later finds a group of shell-shocked soldiers and two Senegalese soldiers separated from their unit in Ypres. (Yes! Something that includes the colonial forces!) Stan is suspicious that some of the men could be faking their symptoms to hide that they’re German spies or British deserters, but Harry refuses to leave the men behind as the group makes a long and perilous journey to the coast.
Along the way, they stop at a field hospital in hopes that the shell-shocked soldiers could be treated, but the head doctor says the hospital is full to capacity and cannot take everyone. The doctor in question? None other than Webster O’Conner! The interactions between the Parisian characters and the soldiers are brief, but it’s always a delight when characters from different storylines converge.
So, exhausted and still covered in blood from the attack on the road, the soldiers set out again with only a vague order of retreat and a possibly false map on a propaganda flyer to guide them. The German line is pushing in, and anyone left behind will be taken prisoner...from the French soldiers guarding the perimeter to the wounded in the field hospital.
Uwe receives the first letter from the Institute. He yells at his workers for displaying Nazi flags (because they could get “caught in the machines”) and draws the attention of an employee who is a proud member of the Nazi party. He tells Claudia (still at the lake house with Hilde) of the news, and the two resolve to be strong for their daughter, no matter what happens or how they disagree.
Later, the Nazi employee reveals that she knows about Hilde and her hiding place. Enraged, Uwe reacts like I’m sure many parents would want to if their child is threatened. He follows the employee into the factory and strikes her face with an iron. Between the blow of the iron, her fall onto a table, and her final descent to the concrete floor, the employee dies of head trauma.
Now with an even more urgent problem, Uwe turns to Nancy for help, and it turns out Nancy has had some experience with carrying a corpse in the past. Like the backstory of Harry’s father, Nancy’s history is still kept under wraps. Did she report on the Spanish Civil War? Something in America? Maybe the next two episodes will involve an explanation.
Douglas and Robina continue to meet and see Jan. Robina starts to look at Douglas with something more than pleasantness as he bonds with Jan.
(Again, I ask, if their kids are broken up for good, can they get together?)
But this enemies-to-friends-to-they’d-never-admit-to-wanting-to-be-lovers relationship still has its hurdles, particularly how they don’t see eye-to-eye about the war. Then there’s Robina’s lingering prejudices.
ROBINA: I can’t make out if [Jan’s] dourness is a racial characteristic or his personal disposition.
DOUGLAS: I’m not sure the Poles are a race.
ROBINA: Well, they aren’t like us, are they?
(Oh, there’s an us now?)
Across the Channel, Lois is now visibly pregnant and is treated differently for it, something underscored by her conversation with her manager, who suggests that she stand still while performing.
LOIS: Are you saying I wobble, Ted?
A pilot tries to make conversation with her and Connie (suspicion is drawn to his “Canadian” accent) but is rebuffed. Lois makes a wonderful stink face.
Gotta wonder if Stan’s fear of spies is foreshadowing for that guy being a spy.
She later speaks with a pilot, Vernon Hunter, who is immediately drawn to her. He would be part of the RAF’s support of the evacuation, but his “kite” (plane) was damaged and needs repair. The two have tea and meet a few times over the next days.
VERNON: I meet a lot of men who think they’re strong, Lois, but I know strength when I see it. And you have it in abundance.
Polite and observant? A pilot and a gentleman? It’s like Vernon walked out of an old movie—complete with tilted cap and proper accent.
Before he leads his men out and her ENSA troop moves on to their next show, Vernon asks Lois if he can write to her. She gives him her address on an envelope originally from Harry, but she keeps the old letter. She’s starting to let go of Harry, but not entirely. Not yet.
(Let him go, Lois! You’re always so sad when you’re in a scene with him. Be with someone who makes you smile and reminds you that you’re already strong!)
He looks at her like she hung the moon. It’s great. (Possible spy is by the piano).
Tom is one of the sailors delivering soldiers across the English channel.
TOM: How come our ship is called HMS Keith? Keith isn’t the name you give to a fighting ship. All the other ships are called Atlantic, Calcutta, Dreadnought. And we get Keith.
His bitter monologue about the un-inspiring name of the HMS Keith is ironic for a couple of reasons:
1. Because apparently his experiences on the Exeter weren’t enough for him
2. Because the HMS Keith would be sunk on June 1st, so in a bleak sense of luck, Tom could switch ships then.
3. Because once again, Tom is taking part in a historic event and doesn’t treat it as such.
4. Because characters eventually do get on lifeboats for a ship that captures Tom’s imagination, the Calcutta.
After months and months of walking, Grzegorz finally reaches the coast.* But Tom, having no knowledge whatsoever of Grzegorz’s background or the long and horrible journey he has had, refuses him room on the lifeboat because he skipped the queue and German planes are likely to return any minute. The confrontation only escalates from there. Tom points his gun at Grzegorz, who desperately challenges him with “I am not afraid of death.” A soldier pushes Grzegorz into the water with a dismissive, “Go fight for your own country!”
This is one of several scenes that highlight how people can sometimes draw behind national, ethnic, and racial divisions in times of stress, and how others can choose to cross these boundaries. Along with reminding the viewers of the less heroic sides of Dunkirk (there is more than one account of someone trying to get to a boat shot by a person in that boat), it also brings out the differences between Tom, Grzegorz, and Harry.
In a later scene, a soldier starts a fight with Harry’s unit over the Senegalese soldiers because they are part of the French colonial forces (and thus, to him, France’s responsibility to evacuate). Instead of leaving Demba and Ibrahim on the beach, Harry fires his gun into the air and commands that the Senegalese men remain with the group.
But beneath all their dramatic declarations is the fact that all three of them want to live. So when German planes fly over the beach and begin to strafe and bomb the men in the lifeboats and on the beach, everyone runs for cover. Higher up on the beach, Grzegorz is able to duck behind a crate. Tom is without shelter and collapses. It is unclear if he is still living.
Across the English Channel, Douglas senses something is terribly wrong. Already anxious over news of the evacuation (which would have become public knowledge on May 31st, as far as I’ve read), he rushes to Robina’s to see if, as the mother of an officer, she knows more about Harry’s survival, and possibly Tom’s. Concerned with Douglas’s emotional state, Robina refuses him entry in the house.
One thing that caught my attention when I rewatched this episode was how, up until this point, Douglas has generally made certain to call his children “my Tom” and “my Lois” and Robina’s son “your Tom.” In his anxiety, he refers to his son as “our Tom.”
Alone at home, Douglas continues to spiral into a panic attack, trembling, crying, and even having flashbacks of the sounds of distant fire. Lois and Connie eventually find him and try to calm him down, but Douglas refuses to rest without knowing what happened to Tom.
The undercurrent of identity runs throughout the show, from Robina’s referral of Jan as part of a Polish “race” to the sense of class in the Bennett family to Albert’s sense of isolation. You could extend the us-versus-them to the compartmentalization Kasia uses to cope with the murders of soldiers or the way Nancy navigates life as an antifascist reporter representing a neutral America in Nazi Berlin. World on Fire encourages the viewer to examine the contradictions and grey areas.
On one hand, you have Harry.
Harry starts to do more overtly heroic things this episode. He commands the inclusion of the shell shocked soldiers and stranded Senegalese soldiers. He makes sure Stan’s gut wound is checked. More than once, he uses his body as a shield from German planes and attacks.
What if Geoff is a spy? What if staying behind with the shell shocked soldiers seals their doom? But what if he isn’t a spy, and what if the soldiers are all taken to safety? No longer frozen in panic and concern for his men, Harry is spurred to action because of his concern for his men.
And yet, this show does not pass Harry’s choices off as simply heroic and worthy of praise or conversely fall into the ‘goodness-is-stupid’ narrative. It makes certain to show that Harry’s compassion is both an asset and a potential danger to everyone around him.
As Vernon Hunter says, “About the only thing left to believe in. Kindness.”
As Geoff says, “You are kind.”
On the other hand, you have Kasia, who is also driven by compassion, but whose options for resisting and fighting Germans and Nazism are very different. The routine she has with Thomasz of luring soldiers into the ruins in Warsaw and killing them inside.
Kasia tells Thomasz that she cannot remember the faces of the men they’ve killed, and that is how it must be. It’s killing them inside to do this, but they cannot think of another way of avenging the Poles killed in the invasion and in the massacres since then. To make things worse, we as the viewers know the danger ahead. There will be no evacuation or backup for Poland anymore, and certainly no miracles for Kasia and Thomasz.
*For Grzegorz to reach France, he would have had to walk through Germany, the Netherlands, and Belgium. While it is possible that the British forces he met in the previous episode gave him a lift at some point between Konrad’s death and his last appearance in the episode, it still doesn’t answer how Grzegorz was able to cross through Germany. Even if between episodes three and four, Konrad and Grzegorz managed to get on a boat that would take them out of Poland, around Denmark, and finally to the French or Belgian coast, you’d think we’d get some scene of this. It’s even more unlikely when you consider that in the same time, Eddie has made his way from Paris to Dunkirk on foot with likely regular stops for employment. But that’s really the only big stretch of imagination this show has asked of us, so I’ll just have to let it go.
Notes
The newspaper shown in the first scene between Douglas and Robina is dated Tuesday, May 28th. If we’re to use the night scenes, Lois and Connie’s change of clothes, and Tom’s mention of the HMS Keith as a reference, then this episode takes place over four to five days, ending around the date the HMS Keith sank, June 1st.
Eddie playing his trumpet while waiting along the outskirts of Dunkirk is one of my favorite images of this episode:
Resources and Further Reading
https://www.iwm.org.uk/history/what-you-need-to-know-about-the-dunkirk-evacuations
https://www.naval-history.net/xGM-Chrono-10DD-14B-HMS_Keith.htm
http://dunkirk1940.org/index.php?&p=1_187
Photographs
https://www.iwm.org.uk/collections/item/object/205194325
https://www.iwm.org.uk/collections/item/object/205194324
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Ch. 1
Genre: Angst / Romance / Action
Warnings: Harsh Language / Violence
Characters: Wonho / Lee Hoseok x OC x Monsta X
Word Count: 4.1K
Synopsis: Nara and Hoseok split ways six years ago. She was not a top trauma nurse who couldn’t be happier with her life and Hoseok was head of her father’s security detail. When her father is kidnapped and her life is put in danger, Hoseok and Nara are reunited. What will come of the reunion and will they find her father before it’s too late?
“These violent delights have violent ends. And in their triumph die, like fire and powder. Which, as they kiss, consume”
Ch.2 Ch.3
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Nara had just sat down for what felt like the first time in her 18 hour shift, taking a sip of her much needed coffee and a bite from her apple, she felt the familiar buzz of her pager before she heard a code being called over the hospital P.A. system.
“Code blue, trauma room 1. Code blue, trauma room 1.”
Groaning, she chugged what was left of her coffee.
“So much for an apple a day”, she thought, stealing one last bite.
She ran as fast as she could from the break room, through the corridor, down three flights of stairs, sliding over a gurney, and around a corner just as a nurse and intern group were beginning their hospital tour.
“And that was nurse, Hwang Nara, the resident LUNATIC.” the nurse giving the tour shouted.
“I think you mean badass!” Nara said, tossing a couple of finger guns and a wink toward the group before continuing on her way.
And she was. A badass that is. She had only been a trauma nurse at Ansan Hospital for a short time now and was already making a name for herself. Sure among them were the occasional ‘lunatic’, ‘unhinged’, ‘reckless’, etc. But more than anything she was gifted, and a great asset to the hospital - when she wasn’t being a liability or a thorn in anyone’s side - and any doctor or nurse in that hospital would tell you the same.
When she arrived at trauma room #1, nurses were scrambled around an unconscious man who was struggling to breathe. No amount of oxygen or air being manually pumped from the ambulatory bag were providing any aid to the suffering man.
Nara looked around and realized she had made it there before any of the on-call doctors. Pushing her way to the front she pulled her stethoscope from her pocket, pressing the icy cold metal to the patient’s bare chest. It only took a moment for her to realize what was wrong.
“Stop the ambu. It won’t work” she informed the others.
“He has a tension pneumothorax. His right lung has collapsed and air is filling his chest cavity. Where is the cardio team?”
All the surgeons were either in surgery or on other urgent cases. Nara knew that the patient wouldn’t last while waiting for them to arrive.
“Give me a large bore needle, please.”
No one made any movements to assist her.
“Anyone? He needs a thoracostomy!”
“It’s against protocol, Nara” another nurse said. “We should wait for a surgeon to get here.”
“We don’t have time for that. If he dies while we’re waiting, do you want to explain to his family and friends that we could have saved him if it wasn’t for fucking protocol?”
Still no one moved to assist her.
“Fine! I’ll do it myself.”
Nara retrieved a large bore needle, a mask, gloves, and iodine from the room’s supply cabinet.
She carefully disinfected the area just above the patient’s third rib on his right side making sure she had located the intercostal space along the midclavicular line. She then slowly inserted the needle into the disinfected area at a 90 degree angle, keeping her hand steady as to not damage any of the underlying blood vessels.
A pregnant pause overtook the room as everyone held their breath. At some point the nursing students and their tour guide had made their way to the E.R. and were now watching the scene in stunned silence.
A moment later, a rush of air could be heard coming from the patient’s chest followed by the sounds of the bedside machines alerting the staff to his stabalizing vital signs.
Everyone breathed a sigh of relief, smiling, and congratulating Nara for saving the man’s life - well not everyone.
“Hwang Nara!” she heard her superior call out. “Why am I not surprised it’s you? My office, now!”
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Pulling her keys from her purse, Nara trudged up the stairs to her apartment, her legs heavy and energy drained from the brutal 18 hour shift. A shift that mind you, should have ended on a high but instead ended with her once again being reprimanded by her department head effectively killing the adrenaline rush and pride she felt after saving that patient.
Reaching the top of the stairs, she started around the corner when a hand clamped down over her mouth and a large arm pulled her back toward the stairwell. Panic spread through her body and her blood ran cold. She tried to scream but it was muffled and the stranger shushed her. There was something familiar about this person. Something nostalgic in the way they smelled and they way their hands felt. She knew this person, she was sure of it. But who did she know that would try and kidnap her? She tried to scream again, when the grip on her mouth got tighter.
“Shhhhh shh Nara, it’s me, be quiet.”
She did know him. It was Hoseok. This knowledge however didn’t alleviate her stress, instead it filled her with rage. She channeled her anger into enough force to elbow him in the chest, his hand falling from her mouth in surprise, but the other still remained tight around her waist.
“Yah! Lee Hoseok, are you crazy? What in the hell do you think you—?”
In a flash, he had her spun around, looking into her eyes. “Wow”, she thought. “How was he still this beautiful?”
“Nara listen to me, you have to be quiet. You can yell at me later, I promise.”
“Later? Why would there be a later Hoseo–?” Nara was became more indignant with each word from Hoseok.
Hoseok shoved her up against the nearest wall.
“Nara! For the love of god will you please shut up?”
She was going to attempt to argue once more when she realized how anxious he appeared, his body was rigid and his eyes kept searching up and down the halls. “What was happening?”, she questioned internally.
At that moment three men in black hats and masks ran out of her apartment. Her eyes widened and she was about to scream at them and ask what in the hell they were doing when Hoseok placed a finger over her mouth and shook his head, his eyes pleading with her to stay quiet.
“I swear I heard keys hyungnim. She should be home by now. Her shift ended an hour ago”, one of the masked men could be heard saying.
They were heading in the direction of the stairwell where she and Hoseok were hiding and she was beginning to grasp the situation. These men were here for her. “But why?”
As they quickly made there way towards the stairs, Hoseok maneuvered his body in front of hers, his back facing the men and leaned in close. To anyone approaching it would seem as if they were just two lovers taking advantage of one another in the stairwell.
The men approached them curiously but the charade worked and they quickly left the apartment building, the elder scolding the younger that he must have been mistaken about her work schedule.
When the danger seemed to be gone, at least for the immediate future, Nara regained her senses. She shoved against Hoseok’s chest with all of her strength.
“Hoseok, you have five seconds to tell me what’s going on and who those men were.”
Hoseok grabbed Nara’s arm, dragging her inside of her apartment. He checked all the rooms and when they were secured he locked the door. Nara stood with her arms crossed over her chest, still waiting for an explanation. He ignored her and made his way into her bedroom, an increasingly agitated Nara following behind him.
“Are you going to answer me? What are you doing here? Who were those men?”
He continued to ignored her, opening her closet, rummaging around until he found a duffle bag. He removed the bag and set it on her bed.
“I’ll explain later, but right now we have to get out of here. Fill this bag with the things you need quickly and lets go.”
“Wooow! You really have lost your damn mind, huh? What makes you think I’d go anywhere with you? I haven’t seen you in six years and you just show up out of the blue all ‘Nara we have to go’. Hell no! You don’t get to do tha–”
“Your dad is missing, Nara.”
Nara stumbled a bit and gripped the door frame for stability taken aback by Hoseok’s words.
“What did you just say? Th-that’s not possible, I just talked to him last night.”
“I know. We checked his phone records. You were the last person he spoke to. He wasn’t at the house this morning when I got there to pick him up and he didn’t show up for any of his meetings today. Hyunwoo and the others are searching for him right now and I’m guessing those men who were just here had something to do with it too so we need to go, NOW!”
Nara couldn’t handle the onslaught of information, finding her nearby desk chair to sit down as her legs threatened to give out. Hoseok kneeled in front of her.
“Nara-yah….”
Hearing him call her name endearingly made her want to simultaneously hurl and throw her arms around his neck and sob.
“I know this is a lot, but I promise you we will find him, okay?” - He swiped a stray hair from her face, brushing it behind her ear - “But right now, we need to get you out of here before those men come back.”
She knew he was right, as much as she hated to admit it so after a few calming breaths, she silently placed all of her necessities into the duffle and grabbed a picture of her father and followed Hoseok out of the apartment building. He lead her to a sleek midnight blue two door sports car. “The car suits him”, she thought. He opened her door for her and placed her bag in the back seat. She slid down into the cool, smooth leather seats and hugged her coat closer to her body.
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As they sped through the dark streets, Nara stole glances at Hoseok. He hadn’t changed at all. Sure he was older and bigger, much bigger, but his features were the same, somehow more handsome with maturity. His jaw was clenched and the veins in his defined arms pulsed as he shifted gears and gripped the wheel tighter. His stress and anxiety were clear.
This fact didn’t surprise her. Hoseok had always been close with her dad, even beyond their working relationship and Nara suspected that Hoseok was just as affected by her father’s disappearance as she was.
When they passed the exit for her father’s house, she asked where they were going. Hoseok explained that people were watching her father’s home and that it would be too dangerous to return there. He said he was taking her to their hideout on the outskirts of the city.
“Who are they? I know Hyunwoo of course, but you keep saying them.”
“The rest of your dad’s special protection team. They started after you left. There are seven of us now.”
Nara shook her head in understanding and stared out the window for the rest of the car ride.
About 45 minutes later, they pulled up in front a seemingly abandoned building, lined by trees on one side and a river on the other, cutting them off completely from the city. The breeze had picked up and Nara shivered as she stepped out of the car, grabbing her bag. She followed Hoseok into the dilapidated concrete structure and toward and elevator, she was surprised to see it actually functioned. He pressed the button for the basement and the two of them descended.
The elevator doors opened up directly into a rather spacious and tasteful loft. Not at all what Nara expected to find in this building or when Hoseok referred to it as a ‘hideout’. They walked in and immediately were greeted by six sets of eyes ranging in expressions from curiosity, to boredom, and others she couldn’t quite place.
Hyunwoo was the first to say anything or make a move. He stood from the kitchen island and enveloped her in a tight hug. He pulled back, looking her over and asked if she was okay to which she just nodded. He was exactly the same. He had the same beautifully tan skin she envied, the same warm brown eyes that creased at the sides when he smiled, and a warmth and feel like an older brother would have. His presence alone instantly comforted Nara and she regretted not keeping in touch or visiting Hyunwoo, regardless of her disdain for his best friend. He ruffled her hair in true big brother style and smiled before rejoining the others around the island.
It looked like they were gathered around a tablet and some blue prints, seemingly looking for Nara’s father, Hwang Ji. Hoseok introduced her to the others and them to her in turn. He went around the table one by one telling her their names and positions on the team.
First up was Lee Minhyuk a cute blonde who was smiling from ear to ear at her and clinging to the chestnut brown haired man to his right who’s eye smile could rival that of Hyunwoo and who had the deepest set of dimples she’d ever seen.
“Minhyukie here is our infiltration specialist. He’s good at breaking into places and taking things that aren’t his which is how he earned the title.”
“Hey to be clear, I am not a thief. I just so happen to be extremely well versed in acquiring things that don’t technically belong to me. But you know what they say, ‘finders keepers’ and all that.”
“You know that doesn’t actually apply when you break into someone’s home and ‘find’ things right?” a boy with perfectly quaffed hair and looks to match said dejectedly.
“Meh potato, tomato” the cute blonde shrugged.
“That’s no—”
“Just let him have this please” the chestnut haired man Minhyuk was clinging to said before turning his attention back to Nara. “I’m Jooheon, it’s nice to finally meet you. I’m sorry it had to happen this way. I’m in charge of the tactical unit.”
Minhyuk beamed whenever Jooheon spoke and never tore his eyes from him. Nara made a mental note that there was definitely something there. Hoseok had given up on introducing the others and thought it best they introduce themselves.
A boy with a kind almost motherly gaze looked at her with what Nara could only assume was some type of sympathy.
“I’m Kihyun, I run intelligence for the group.”
“That’s a fancy way of saying he’s in charge of the cooking.” a slightly shorter boy with jet black hair that looked almost blue said. He had a devilish grin and it made Nara uneasy when he flashed it in her direction.
A quick hand landed at the back of his neck.
“This here is our little resident psychopath, Changkyunie, who should learn to watch what he says before the cook decides to poison him, don’t you think?”
Kihyun pinched Changkyun’s cheek harshly until the latter yelped in pain.
“What are you in charge of?” Nara asked as he nursed a red cheek.
“Trust me, you don’t want to know” he said with that same unnerving smile. And for the time being, Nara wasn’t entirely sure she did want to know.
Next to him was the boy from earlier who teased Minhyuk. Nara would have sworn he got lost on his way to a runway show with his modelesque looks, if it weren’t for the knife he held in his hand twirling from finger to finger as he stared at her, disinterested.
“Aish this is exhausting…. Fine, I’m Hyungwon, I work with Minhyuk here on infiltration. But stealing isn’t my portion. I’m more of the……well distraction.”
Minhyuk hopped off his stool, finally releasing Jooheon’s arm for the first time since they arrived and rushed to Nara’s side.
“Noona, are you hungry, have you eaten?”
Noona? Nara thought to herself. They weren’t introduced more than five minutes ago and now she was noona? It was quick but not necessarily unwelcome. Minhyuk had a contagious personality and he made her feel at ease. He was comfortable and she felt her shoulders release some tension as he locked arms with her and led her to the fridge.
➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖✖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖
Kihyun ended up whipping up a delicious meal just from some leftovers in the fridge and when they were all full the others retreated back to their earlier conversations and planning on how to find her father while Hoseok showed her to what would be her room for the time being.
It was awkward to say the least. She and Hoseok had not parted on good terms, and even after six years apart, two hours in his presence had brought the emotions she had locked away bubbling to the surface.
“You should wash up and make yourself comfortable and when you’re up to it, you can come down and we will brief you on what we know so far.”
“Thanks”, was all Nara could manage to mutter, as she tried to keep her emotions at bay. Both over her father disappearing and over seeing Hoseok again.
She spent more time than was necessary in the shower, welcoming the slight sting and pink hue that the hot water brought to her skin, slowly soothing the tension in her muscles. After about 30 minutes, she decided she should leave the shower and face what was waiting for her downstairs. No matter how much she wished to just stand in the spray of the shower she knew she couldn’t remain in denial forever.
She brushed her hair and teeth, pulled on some leggings and a large tattered sweatshirt with her alma mater’s logo on it and headed down the stairs.
They all took turns explaining to her what each of them had gathered on the situation so far. They believed her dad was taken sometime between 8 - 10 p.m. the previous night. The last person he had spoken to was Nara around 7p.m.. He had sent all of them home for the day and only his minimal security unit remained at the house.
Hwang Ji had believed that his home was well enforced enough that he didn’t need them all on watch 24/7 and he was adamant about them all being able to maintain their own lives and rest comfortably in their own home. When Hoseok got to the house in the morning to pick him up and drive him into the city to the corporation, he didn’t answer his text or calls. Hoseok went inside to check on him but he wasn’t in the house and neither were any of the guards from the minimum security team. He thought that it was possible he wanted to get to the office early before his meetings and had the other guards drive him.
Hoseok drove to the office to confirm this, but was told that Hwang Ji never showed up. The guys spent the rest of the day interrogating his known rivals, and combing the streets for him. They checked the house’s CCTV and found that the surveillance and security systems were shut down around 7:30 p.m. and didn’t come back online until after 10:30 p.m.
Hoseok had a feeling that whoever took Hwang Ji may try and harm Nara too which is how he ended up at her apartment building. Nara hadn’t been home in six years, her and her father preferring to meet halfway between their respective homes to catch up. However, the team kept tabs on her and knew her schedules. Protecting her father also meant protecting his family and those dear to him. Since Hyunwoo needed to lead the tactical searches and interrogation for the group and Nara wasn’t familiar with the rest of the group, it was decided that it would be best if Hoseok was the one to go retrieve her as to lessen her alarm. A plan that hadn’t gone as well as planned when the three masked men showed up.
None of their leads or the usual suspects had turned up any promising information and they found themselves starting over from ground zero. Nara found her head spinning with all the new information and trying to keep her nerves under control. Losing her shit now wasn’t going to help find her father any faster.
Later that evening she found that it was only she, Hoseok and Hyunwoo left awake as they sat around the coffee table at 1 a.m. sharing a drink. Nara hadn’t found the strength to fall asleep yet and Hoseok and Hyunwoo stayed up with her out of worry and support.
“So how did you all come together? Where did they all come from?” Nara asked, sipping from her now warming can of beer.
“Heh, where to begin?” Hyunwoo chuckled. “Uhm Hyukie was a runaway. He comes from a pretty wealthy family but his parents have always been sadly disinterested in him or anything he did. He rebelled for a while, trying to get their attention, but eventually he just ended up leaving home.”
“I watched him shoplift from a convenience store one day and charm the panties off the girl behind the register and the security guard alike and so I followed him.” Hoseok said. “I told him what I had seen and he begged me not to turn him in. Of course that wasn’t what I was there for and I explained a bit of who I was. I brought him to meet your dad and the rest is obvious.”
“I found Kihyun” Shownu said. “He bumped into me trying to outrun the cops. He looked so helpless and I didn’t know what he was on the run for, but for some reason I decided to help him evade the police. Turns out the cops were from cyber crimes and they were after him for hacking into the Seoul National Hospital system to clear the debt for his sick mother.”
They went on like this explaining a bit of the other’s backstories and helping Nara to understand the boys she would be associating with for the foreseeable future and who her father had entrusted his life to.
Minhyuk recruited Jooheon from an underground MMA circuit. He fell for him instantly and was shocked when he found out Jooheon shared the sentiment. They’ve been together ever since.
Kihyun recruited Changkyun who brought along his childhood friend and current roommate Hyungwon. It was the only way he would agree to come. Hyungwon was a runaway too and had spent time as a male model and escort for some time before coming to the company. Changkyun was working for another crime organization as an assassin. They were lovingly dubbed the ‘psycho unit’ although they referred to Hyungwon as more sociopathic than psychopathic.
This thought unnerved Nara a bit and she gulped but they assured her that they were deadly to those who crossed them or to their targets but to everyone else they were all bark and no bite.
They spent the rest of the hour in silence, the three of them dozing off while a muted melodrama played on the tv in the background. Nara was finally feeling the exhaustion threatening to take her when,
“A WHOLE NEW WOOOOOORLD. A DAZZLING PLACE I NEVER KNEEEEEW!”
Nara sat straight up on the couch fumbling with her phone and dropping it on the floor.
“BUT WHEN I’M WAY UP HERE, IT’S CRYSTAL CLEAR”
She looked at Hyunwoo and Hoseok, neither seemed alarmed by the obviously tone deaf dying animal that had broken into their home.
“What in the ever loving fuck is that?”
“Ahhh you mean the sound like someone strangling a cat?”
“Obviously”, Nara nodded at Hyunwoo.
“That would be the incomparable Im Changkyun”, he said with a fancy flourish of his wrist for emphasis before returning his attention back to his phone.
“Wait, what? You’re telling me that the little psycho you just told me about, the one who could kill you in 50 ways in 2 seconds, Changkyun likes Disney movies?”
“OH MY GOD HE’S A REALLY BAD BOY, HE’S A REALLY BAD BOY!”
Hyunwoo nodded, still unphased by the screeching coming from the shower where Changkyun was supposedly “singing”, if you could call it that.
“Mhm, big fan of Red Velvet too. Even knows the dances.”
“That song is gonna be stuck in my head for a week.” Hoseok added from his spot beside Nara.
Nara picked up her phone and sat back, laughing as Changkyun broke out into a terrible rendition Rainism.
“I’M GONNA BE A BAD BOY, I’M GONNA BE A BAD BOY, I’M GONNA BE A BAD BAD BOY!”
She hoped he didn’t slip in the shower and break something trying to do the choreography. “These boys were going to be the death of me”, she thought.
Head reeling from all the information and Changkyun’s singing, she bid Shownu and Hoseok goodnight and retired to her room where she fell asleep almost as soon as her head met pillow.
Ch. 2
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Jay Halstead Whump Fic
A seemingly random series of attacks in Chicago targeting men and women of various ages, races and backgrounds ends with one of Intelligence’s own fighting for his life. His co-workers and friends; his family, are forced to confront the fact that one of them might not walk away unscathed this time around – if he manages to walk away at all.
Okay guys, the day no one (including myself) thought would ever come! I’ve finally decided to take the plunge/make the commitment and finally put this story out there for the world to see. Also seeing as I started writing this a couple of seasons ago so some characters who are deceased or have departed are not deceased or have departed in this universe.
--
Mission Objective
Chapter 1: The Case
They had three victims from three completely different backgrounds; three different ethnicities, age and gender and no matter how deep they dug through the trash the only thing they could find linking the victims to each other was the M.O and the fact that at the end of the day it just seemed to be a completely random series of attacks perpetrated by the same person for absolutely no reason.
“All victims were stabbed twice, once in the flank and once in the side. We believe he came up from behind and surprised them; the first stab wasn’t meant to kill, only to incapacitate. They also had bruising around the neck to support that theory. The second was to keep them down. Two of the three victim suffered multiple broken bones, bruises and contusions and internal damage from a beating but all three died as a result of severe blood loss. Whoever this guy is and whatever he wants from them, this guy has got some serious beef with these people.” Antonio finished his assessment and returned back to sit perched on the side of his desk.
“The only thing in common in these cases are the M.O’s,” Jay started, “The victims have nothing in common that we can find that links them to one another. Yvonne Miller: thirty-seven, mother of two. No priors, no record, nothing to indicate that she was anything other than a squeaky clean mom who does carpool on the weekdays. Hubert Harris the Third, fifty-three,” Jay placed special emphasis on the title, “Drill Sergeant in the army for over twenty years, no criminal record, no priors, not even a parking ticket. The fact that he went through life, much less the army and up to the rank of Drill Sergeant with the name Hubert Harris the Third meant that this was definitely not a guy to be messed with. And Javier Herrera, twenty-seven. Just got back from two tours overseas, spotless record on all fronts and an absolutely stand-up guy from what we gathered from the people who knew him. Had no beef with anyone. He was attacked in the alley behind his house; DOA. No witnesses in any of these cases.”
“Well the fact that their faces are pinned up on that board and their bodies lying cold in the morgue meant that they definitely had beef with someone, and I want to know who, where and why,” ordered Voight, his gravelly voice almost rumbling through the walls of the bullpen of the Intelligence headquarters of the CPD. “And I needed that information five minutes ago.”
A chorus of ‘yes, Serge’s rang up as everyone dispersed to return to their own desks.
It was a case they’d been working on ever since the discovery of the first victim, Yvonne Miller, a widowed single mother, in her apartment by her landlord almost three weeks ago. She died as a result of shock from the blood loss at the hospital later that day. The second victim died on the way to the hospital and the third was dead before the first unit was even the scene and neither CPD nor the Intelligence Unit was any close to identifying the killer. The best lead they had was a next door neighbour of the second victim hearing the sound of a male voice yelling what, according to him, sounded like Arabic, in the apartment the evening before the victim’s body was found. They’d found nothing to indicate that it was a racially motivated crime however. And there were no cameras at any of the exits or on the street and no one saw anyone coming or leaving the crime scene at any point before or after the attack, so they found themselves up against a brick wall in regards to that lead.
Essentially, they had bupkis.
So getting the call that another victim had been found beaten in his apartment later that morning did nothing to ease the tweaked up nerves of everyone working the case, only the fact that he was still alive and was on route to Med kept most of them from wanting to punch a wall.
“Troy Hargreaves,” said Will Halstead who was waiting for their arrival at the entrance of the hospital, starting his assessment without waiting for the go ahead, “Thirty-two; stabbed once in the lumbar area and once in the lower right abdomen, multiple contusions to the torso, broken ribs, ruptured spleen. He’s up in surgery as we speak. His injuries look severe but I’m optimistic about his chances. I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that this definitely fits the same pattern as the other victims.”
Voight scrubbed his face with his hand almost like a nervous habit, but anyone who knew him knew that Voight didn’t get nervous. Most likely it was out of frustration and anger. They weren’t any closer to catching the guy and from what little they could deduce, it didn’t seem like he was likely to stop until he got whatever it was he wanted or whoever it was he wanted.
“I don’t know about you, but I’m sick of sitting around with my thumb up my ass watching this guy get one up on us again,” said Voight, the frustration obvious on his face, not acknowledging Olinsky coming up behind him and placing a comforting hand on his shoulder to calm him down.
“It’s late, we’re all fired up from this asshole giving us the run around. I’ll wait for the vic to come out of surgery and update you on what I can get from him, the rest of you – go home, rest up and come back fresh faced in the morning,” said Olinsky, “Well, as fresh faced as you ugly lot can get,” he added with a wisp of a smile; his voice soft and his characteristic as of calmness extending to the rest of the team.
“Al’s right,” said Voight after a beat, exhaling tiredly. “Go home.”
“You sure, boss?” Ruzek asked, looking around at the rest of the group. It was obvious that the offer was the most tempting to him though all of them looked equally dead on their feet after almost going almost forty-eight hours without sleep trying to find the perp before he struck again only to have found themselves left in the bloodied dust trail once again.
“You gonna make me say it twice?” asked Voight with a stern look in Ruzek’s direction.
“No, boss,” said Ruzek immediately, arms raised in front of him.
“Then get the hell out of here.”
None of them struck around to be told a third time.
“I swear to god I’m gonna put two bullets right in the middle his face when we catch this bastard and then go home and sleep like a baby,” said Ruzek as he and the rest of the team made their way down the hospital corridor towards the exit.
Usually it’s be one of them – Ruzek, Kim or Atwater tasked to stay behind because they were the newer members, but Al had insisted and none of them really wanted to be alone with Voight in a closed space while he was in that particular mood.
“I definitely second the suggestion,” said Kim a little too heartily.
“Get in line,” said Hailey. The threat would have come across a lot more menacing had she not been in the middle of a yawn; her arms stretched high above her head like a cat.
“Well I for one would be happy if we managed to even catch the guy and put a stop to all this,” said Atwater. “That’d do my sleep a world of good already.”
Jay had many things to add to the conversation but the strength to say none of them. He was tired, physically and mentally so he just opted for an amused chuckle from where he was walking just a few steps behind the rest of the team
“How about a drink at Molly’s before we turn in?” suggested Ruzek once conversation had begun tapering off. “God knows we could all use a stiff one– or five.”
Atwater was immediately down for the plan though Hailey and Kim both seemed equally undecided.
Jay however wasn’t in the mood for the drink or the company. He was too wired from the lack of sleep and too much caffeine and quite frankly too pissed to be good company. Something about the case, especially the fact that two of the victims were Vets, just struck a chord in him. He always felt a strange sort of camaraderie, whether they were the victims or the perps, when it came to people who’d served. He imagined the victims being someone he knew, someone he served with – a brother. At the same time, the person who’d committed the crime could have just as easily been someone he knew or someone he served with.
Hell, it could have just as easily been him.
If it hadn’t been for Mouse being there for him – if there hadn’t been the thought in the back of his mind when he was at his lowest that he was just as much Mouse’s crutch as he was his; if it hadn’t been for the police force giving him an outlet to channel his silent rage and his trauma and anxiety, he could have just as easily turned out to be one of the people he put away.
Sure he had Will and maybe his dad to some extent, but they didn’t understand. They couldn’t understand. They weren’t there. They didn’t experience what he experienced. They didn’t see what he saw. They didn’t feel what he felt: the fear and helplessness and shame.
And they definitely couldn’t deal with it – deal with him, the way Mouse had been able to – by just being there, but just understanding without having to be explained; by knowing without having to be told.
Will had the natural instinct to want to fix everything; to find a source of the ailment and apply a treatment and a cure – that’s what made him such a good doctor.
But Jay didn’t need a doctor, he needed a brother and that was something Will was unable to be to him at the time. Their relationship had improved much since then, but still when situations like this arose, the absence of Mouse felt so much more apparent.
Jay knew he wasn’t going to be such good company – he could already feel like anxiety levels getting progressively higher the longer he remained in the vicinity of the hospital. Hospitals all smelled the same and had the same kind of aura pulsating off it. It didn’t matter if it was on home soil or in some run down building in another third world country – it always smelled the same and at that point Jay just wanted to be home.
“Nah, guys,” said Jay. “I think I’m gonna turn in early.”
“You sure, Jay?” asked Ruzek. “You’re gonna miss out. Atwater’s paying. This phenomenon only happens once in a blue moon,” he said with a mischievous grin. “Pigs might even fly!”
Atwater scoffed. “Yeah, Jay. I’ll be doing the paying with money from Ruzek’s pocket. You won’t want to miss the spectacle. I don’t think anyone but flies have ever seen the inside of his raggedy ass wallet.”
“I’ll have you know, Atwater, that I was voted ‘most generous’ by the whole sophomore girls swim team for two years in a row.”
“Yeah,” said Atwater, completely deadpan. “I’m sure teenage you was definitely generous with something.”
“Hey!” objected Ruzek, mock offended.
“Anyway,” said Jay, cutting into the conversation, “Based on this conversation alone I’m sure it’s gonna be a hoot and a half, but I think I’ll pass, You guys have fun though,” he said, which in Jay-speak meant that the conversation was done.
The girls had opted to join in for ‘just one drink’ which was usually code for ‘more than one drink’, but once Jay decided on a course of action, it was very hard to change his mind.
“You’re seriously no fun, Halstead,” said Ruzek teasingly at his retreating back.
“I’m loads of fun,” said Jay from over his shoulder, “Just with better company than you.”
Ruzek’s response was a hearty laugh topped off with a middle finger salute but Jay had already stepped around the corner and out of sight and didn’t see. He felt no need to turn back for a second look at his team; he’d see their ugly mugs in the morning anyway.
He took a detour to find Will on his way out – which was ironically easier in theory than in reality, especially considering it was his brother’s place of work – to take a rain check on their bi-annual game night get together. They hadn’t had one in a while, what with the influx of work on both their parts, and despite their insistence on not cancelling this time no matter what, Jay really just wasn’t in the mood or the headspace to want to be around anyone.
Jay wondered whether they should just cancel it all together because making plans was never something that aligned with their day jobs.
Fortunately Will wasn’t too disappointed by the cancellation, mainly because he’d been on the same train of through, only slightly more hesitant about it. He’d just come off a double shift and like Jay was planning on spending the night in the company of his own bed, which was a completely acceptable reason in Jay’s book.
They shared a hug and a casual insult before Jay finally stepped out of the hospital, into his truck and drove out of the parking lot with a roar of the exhaust.
Nothing else of importance happened the rest of the day.
tbc.
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listen to me — chapter 23
LISTEN TO ME — 0023
listen to me masterlist;
WORDS: 2.2K
Although she disobeyed some traffic rules, Jinah managed to get home. She was so nervous and baffled at herself that she couldn't even look at her own reflection on the mirrored surface of the elevator, but she could still feel the skin on her face in a feverish state. Such was the shame contained in her sultry expression.
"Jade!" — she entered the apartment screaming, startling Chan. The television was still on in the same series that the two were marathoning before Choi received Jisung's call.
"She just left with Changbin" — he used the remote to lower the volume and straightened his posture on the couch. — "What happened? Is Jisung okay?"
"I fucked up, Chan!"
"Where's the news?"
"I'm serious!"
He thought to reply that he was serious, too, but, judging from the distress in every gesture of Jinah, he decided it was best to keep the remark to himself.
"Jisung was sad because Chaerin had come to him to explain herself and ask for forgiveness" — Jinah began —, "then you know that my way of cheering people is kind of peculiar, so I suggested making a cake and he went to help me."
"You haven't been trading salt for sugar again, have you?"
"I wish"
"Oh, my God" — Chan hugged a cushion. — "Is it worse than that? I'm getting worried."
"It was okay" — the girl continued —, "I was already leaving, but I don't know what happened to me, when I realized, I had kissed him!"
"Out of the blue?"
"Kind of" — sulking, Jinah let her body fall beside the boy's. — "He started to look at me and there was an opportunity, but I don't think it was meant to have happened like that."
"And what was his reaction?"
"He was in shock, of course."
"At least he didn't scold you or anything" — Chan opened a half smile, trying to sound optimistic. — "Maybe he even liked it, just couldn't answer."
"It's not that simple" — Jinah leaned her head against the back of the sofa and stared at the ceiling fan with a faint desire that it let go and cut off her neck at once. — "Jisung was crying for someone else less than three hours ago, he didn't look ready for a change as drastic as receiving an unexpected kiss. Now he must be hating me again."
"He won't hate you just because of that. You have to talk to him before-..."
"But never!" — Jinah interrupted him quickly and stood up. — "I don't want to see him again for the next five years!"
"Like I was saying..." — Chan picked up again with a warning tone, pleading between the lines so that she wouldn't cut his speech again in half. — "You have to talk to him before you start to create this whole bunch of situations where things end badly. Maybe things aren't even that bad, just stay calm."
Choi knew this well, but the only thing she wanted to do at the moment was to disappear or go into a coma, not think rationally.
"I'll try," — she said, and crawled toward her room, not even making a mental prediction of when she'd get out of it. — "I don't want to be disturbed; if anyone comes to me, tell everyone I've died."
And Chan could do nothing but agree to that lie.
♡˖°
The hours passed and Jinah remained in the room; Changbin and Jade hadn't arrived, certainly because they were doing something as a couple, which gave Chan an empty apartment full of things to clean. All right that this wasn't his day to clean, but after the "incident," he decided not to throw the task on Jinah's shoulders and wait for her to vacuum the room without experiencing any existential crisis. In addition, when he put the headphones in the maximum while his reproducer played Exid, the world could be destroyed from the outside that he wouldn't even bother.
Taking the dust off the shelf in the living room, while "Me & you" nearly exploded his auditory channels — it's not because he was graduating in medicine that he didn't abuse his health from time to time —, Chan reflected a little on his own life. He has always been the kind of scholarly boy and, sometimes, uninteresting. Not that he cared about this, after all, he was timid to those who he didn't have intimacy and didn't like parties and such. The only problem he was facing lately was the fact that he was an adult and still don't have a single love to be able to comment on even with the bathroom mirror.
Living "alone" wasn't bad, but every now and then, he felt needy, and even Jade's hugs couldn't overcome this need. Unfortunately, his crushs were never reciprocated, which made him think that perhaps his destiny was to live with twelve cats in a yellow house.
It seemed a gift of karma. Whenever he was interested in someone, or the person was already in a relationship or was a homosexual — it was what happened to Heo Yoorim (state secret), Kang Seulgi (not so secret) and Park Jihyo (ah, he had trusted in her straight face, but only to have all his expectations shattered when he saw her holding hands with a girl in the college cafeteria. That was to say that the girl was beautiful and little Chan didn't have a crush on her too). In the end, there was the pretty girl from the hospital, who always took off his concentration as she passed him with that nice smell of woody perfume, but Chan hadn't yet tried to find out whether his passion was one-sided as always.
In short, if Chan and Jinah argued who was the most unlucky in love, they'd probably tie.
Bang would've continued to digress about the pros and cons, but the music came to an end and there was a moment of silence until the next began; in the meantime, he could hear the noise of the bell and stopped his chores to go and see who it was. For some reason, he wasn't surprised to see Jisung.
"Is Jinah there?" — he asked, flustered, and Chan bit his lower lip as he recalled Choi's words: 'I don't want to be disturbed, if anyone comes to me, tell everyone I've died.' — "Please, I really need to talk to her,"— Jisung insisted in the least seconds of hesitation.
"It's the last door in the hallway" — he gave room for the boy to enter. — "But if you knock before, it's likely she won't open it."
Han thanked and followed the direction indicated. His fingers rested on the frozen handle and he swallowed hard, thinking of the possibilities of what he'd find. What if Jinah was without clothes or something? Eventually he pushed his thoughts away and focused on the real reason he was there. His eyes met a dark ambiance as he finally opened the door, prompting him to raise his hand to the switch and turn on the lights.
Jinah prepared to curse the soul that interrupted her isolation from humanity, but had to blink to make sure she wasn't seeing things when the cause of her psychological trauma entered the room and shut the door behind him.
"Why are you here?" — Jinah asked in a whisper, afraid to find the answer. Han found it lovely how her hair was messy and how small she looked in the middle of so many blankets. The phone connected to the headphones had the screen lit and was next to her pillow.
"You can't steal a kiss from someone and disappear like that" — the boy sat on the bed, facing Choi, who looked away and felt the burning of her cheeks coming back in full force.
"I've already apologized, but I'll understand if you're angry and don't want to talk to me anymore."
"Do I look angry?"
Jinah looked up again. In fact, Jisung didn't seem angry or upset; the left corner of his lips being slightly arched proved that.
"Just caught me by surprise," — the boy added. — "I was used to you giving me some warnings before wanting to kiss me."
The bad part was that Jinah had no arguments to defend herself. Her loose tongue only knew how to get her in trouble.
"I promise I won't do it again" — even though it wasn't what she really wanted, Choi chose to preserve friendship above anything. — "I don't want to leave a strange mood between us anymore."
"Set strange."
"Strange as if I just kept forcing things and, sometimes, did it even without realizing it."
"You never forced anything," — a tiny wrinkle appeared on Jisung's forehead. — "You would've done it only if I had ever felt uncomfortable."
It took Jinah a few seconds to process the information: — "You mean you didn't feel uncomfortable with that kiss?"
"No" — Han opened a handsome and equally shy smile. — "That's why I came to get another one."
Choi's brain almost melted and ran down her ears. She was lucky for the filter that connected her mind to her mouth not being so reliable as to not fail to transmit commands, otherwise, it would've been unusable for a few minutes. The smile she opened was pure impulse coming from somewhere that was definitely not her head, just like the next words that left her lips:
"Finally, huh?"
Jisung laughed weakly and, throwing everything up, mimicked the gestures the girl had made earlier and brought his hands to her face, then leaning to leave another peck on her soft lips.
"I realized that Woojin, Hyunjin and you are right." — Jisung pulled away just enough to get a look into her eyes. — "It's been almost a month now, aside from the fact that today I gave up holding resentment, so I think it's time to move on in every way."
"Are you sure about it?"
"Absolutely. I don't want to be someone bitter anymore, Jinah. I've never been like this, and it's not from now on that I'm going to remain."
"That's great, even because no one can handle you like that" — Choi smiled again, followed by the other. Jisung was already more than accustomed to those jokes that, in the end, carried a little bit of truth in disguise. If not even he could stand himself, he didn't expect others to do it. — "But seriously now... You don't have to feel pressured on anything."
"Nor do you need to feel like a band-aid, because I'm not doing it to cover some bruising."
"I know you're not like that." — Jinah could only smile, looked like a fool. As much as she had been through troubled relationships, she always left the initial hesitation aside and tried again. She felt like she was getting a new opportunity to start from scratch. And although it was still too early to define what Jisung and she were, she already intended to make the boy change his conceptions. — "So, are we okay?"
Jisung chuckled and looked down at the girl's lips. — "Much better than we've ever been before."
The third kiss was boosted on both sides, however, after a few seconds of that delicate pressing, Jinah put a hand on Jisung's hair and Han, intoxicated by the moment, quickly moved his own to the girl's waist. Their lips parted and Choi's tongue slid into the boy's mouth, starting a slow, deep and wet dance.
Jisung could tell that Jinah's kiss was as sweet as her appearance; loving and calm, yet addictive as a drug if tried more thoroughly. On the other hand, in the eyes of the girl, Han's kiss was precise and striking, so Jisung seemed to know where to touch and what to do. The hands that were once placed on Choi's waist came up into her hair and plunged between them, pulling lightly when the kiss was gone after a few minutes of delight. However, when Jinah would start another, the door to her room was opened by a frightened Jade.
"But what... What a shame..." — the american's intention was to scold, but the scene had left her so discredited in life that she couldn't even organize her own words. — "With that hot sun out there..."
"No one's doing anything wrong here." — Jinah rolled her eyes and leaned against the headboard. — "I'm not like Changbin and you, who think everyone in this house is deaf."
"Girl, I tried to help you by telling her not to come here to mess up and that's how you repay me?" — Seo appeared next to Jade, followed by Chan, who cast a 'I'm sorry, I couldn't help it' look at Jisung.
"I think I'm leaving already" — shy, Han cleared his throat, got to his feet and gave Jinah a meaningful look, who returned it with a silent apology. — "See you tomorrow."
"See you."
"I'll accompany you." — Chan smiled and followed him to the door.
Alone with Jade and Changbin, Jinah buried her face in the pillow to hide a smile so wide it made the muscles in her face ache. She'd probably be bullied by those two, but she didn't care about anything other than the fact that she'd finally kissed Jisung.
(n/a: yessss their kiss happened, it deserves to be celebrated huh
jokes aside, i have updated daily during this week, but i didnt expect that my mom would invent to spend the day at my grandma's farm tomorrow. there's internet there, but it is a conglomeration of relatives and i cant write with noise, it gets something very messy. the last few chapters i had done were this and another, which i decided to post today too, so i wont update tomorrow. i'm sorry for that :((( i ask you guys to have a little patience
and finally, i already tell you guys to support nct dream's comeback soon. i loved this new concept of 'we boom', honestly; amen nct dream. i'm all stupid for the dremies and i say that in my opinion it's nct's best unit. but it is my opinion, then, who liked clap your hands, who didnt, patience. if nct dream exist thanks to god because it exists (ah, i love my portuguese rich in slangs lol. jk, yall can talk to me whenever you want to explain or whatever ksjsjjdsksj)
thank you to those who endured me during all these days, bye, ily ♡)
#stray kids#skz#stray kids au#skz au#stray kids angst#skz angst#stray kids fluff#skz fluff#stray kids fics#skz fics#stray kids imagines#skz imagines#stray kids reactions#skz reactions#stray kids smut#skz smut#stray kids scenarios#skz scenarios#bang chan#woojin#minho#changbin#hyunjin#han#jisung#feli#seungmin#jeongin#kpop#kpop au
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Smallville S2E21: Excelarate
Chloe functionally isn’t in this episode, and I’m 100% here for that. Long may it continue
Who decided that teen genre shows would all feature cinemas which show black and white horror movies? Why is that a thing?
We’re getting right into the plot with minimal bullshit this week – Lana is clearing up the cinema (we’re had multiple episodes about contracts involving the cinema, and this is the first time we’re actually seeing it) when the projector starts playing a home movie of Lana as a kid, and then the kid from the home movie just fucking teleports in and freaks her out. To be fair to the show, it’s actually a surprisingly effective horror bit. It would be more effective it is was happening to literally anyone other than Lana, but hey.
The not-ghost is in Lana’s bedroom now. Which would be spookier if anyone in this fucking town LOCKED THEIR FUCKING DOORS
Okay, so the little girl is Lana’s childhood best friend who drowned, and Lana has screaming nightmares about it. Hands up who thinks this trauma is ever going to be addressed again after this one specific episode?
Oooh, concept – youtube channel where professional stylish bastard Lionel Luthor does food criticism
Okay why is this, why is ‘Lana’s being fucking haunted’ the point at which Chloe draws the line? Insect men? Sure, everyone knows Amazonian tribes can do that. Shapeshifters? Obviously. Vampires? Totally a legit thing. Ghosts though? No way, that’s just fucking weird.
I need some context for how far it is from Granville to Smallville, because this small not a ghost apparently walked it no problems
Oh good, we’re like three scenes in and the meteor kid du jour has already murdered someone. Why does everyone in this fucking town turn to murder as their first option!
Why does no one in the show own an umbrella? Is the director just real into seeing Clark get all wet? Because I try not to kink shame, but that’s just weird.
I love that this kid decided the best way to reconnect with her old friend was to go full on Chucky
I know for a fact Smallville hospital has security, so why the fuck are people allowed to just wander in and out of patients hospital rooms? Especially when so many of them end up being there to kill someone!
“Who needs human friends when you could have a definitely haunted evil doll?” Learning some things about Lana today.
Lana and Clark are way too okay with finding creepy murder basements. I know that happens to them like once a month, but I really don’t feel like that’s something anyone should get used to.
Okay, I get why a mad scientist might want to clone his dead daughter. I get why he’d do it in a creepy murder basement. The thing I don’t get is why the fuck he gave her superspeed of all thing, speaking as someone who’s done a fair bit of babysitting in their life, that seems like the worst possible power to give to a nine year old.
Why the fuck is the not-ghost murder child sitting in a creepy rocking chair like she’s fucking sweet Audrina. Wait, little girl who’s not the same as a dead little girl but might be the same and she’s got a rocking chair and her dad is trying to force her to remember her childhood trauma… Oh fuck, Smallville was bad enough without bring VC Andrews into it. What’s next, a flowers in the attic episode? I guess incest is the one taboo they haven’t gone to bat for yet in this show.
Lex I love you, but if you don’t want people to think you’re a supervillain you really need to stop starting conversations with “all ethics aside…”
Okay, I can forgive Lana a little bit for her shit because she at least knows that if a child gives you a drawing you have to say you like it, even if the child is a murder-clone
“She’s got severe chromosomal damage, she has no concept of right or wrong.” What the fuck does that have to do with chromosomes, Smallville writers?! Could it be that maybe she has no morals because she’s three days old!
Oh wow, we’re two season in and it turns out Kristin Kruek can actually act? And I get why you wouldn’t bother with scripts of this calibre, but I can’t help feeling her career wouldn’t have had to go full on Legend of Chun Li if she’d just tried at least this much more often.
That might just be the worst fake CPR in the whole history of fake CPR, and that’s really saying something.
Holy shit, are actions having consequences? Are we getting… fallout? Someone official has actually noticed all the people who died in the white saviour prophesy caves, and yeah it took Lionel bribing them for their to be any action, but they did something! That’s a major step forward. I’m proud of you Kansas state government.
So every character arc in this episode can by summarised as “Bitch, get some got damned therapy!”. None of them are going to get any therapy.
Hey does anyone remember that episode of Buffy with the invisible girl, and at the end it turns out there’s a whole government department that recruits invisible kids as assassins? Yeah, that. Lionel is doing that. I should probably be less on board with that than I am, but honestly as the only person in this show who actually gets shit done, I’d rather Lionel had the evil superpowered clone army than, say, the government.
#smallville#smallville recaps#charlie watches a thing#welcome to cake critique with your host lionel luthor#today: salted caramel brownies#how moist is too moist?#tell me you wouldn't watch the shit out of that
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Capraa ??????
@persephoneanmystery
(I know we discussed this troll over IM but I am still filled with misery thinking about him. Get ready for some sadtroll times.)
I was prepared for him, I have already read him, and yet reading him again has filled me with new DESPAIR….
Universe: Beforus!
Name: Capraa ??????
“Capraa” is just “Capra” with an A tacked on. The goat, Capra aegagrus, was one of the first domesticated animals, linking to the Bronze affinity with animals and also his… unfortunate association with them. [Also a very… very minor reference to Dark Soul’s Capra Demon, of which I based a little visual inspiration off of] When asked for a surname he gives “Castan”, but that’s because he can no longer remember his own.
Age: Roughly 7 Sweeps
Theme/Story: Capraa is a troll who’s in so over his head that he’s drowned and floated back to the surface. Originally a bright, intelligent troll, and a master of animal behavior and study, his talents were taken advantage of by his superior, whom he blindly followed. She took all of his connections and spun them into something that played by her rules. She took his name, his memory, and any way of contacting the outside world. Now, he’s some kind of lusus-troll hybrid, and he can’t seem to tear himself away.
Strife Specibus: Clawkind, Hoofkind
Capraa was never much of a fighter in the first place, but after his transformations, he can’t really wield conventional weapons anyways, so he uses his new natural weapons to defend himself from training drones and angry mobs alike.
Don’t forget hornkind. That’s one of the main tools of the goat, after all.
Fetch Modus: Lycanthropy
Capraa originally had some other kind of Modus, but he doesn’t remember what it was. In fact, he has a hard time remember ANYTHING about what he had before having this one. His superior designed it and gave it to him as a gift. Each item has a lunar phase it starts in, and he can only pull them out when they’ve turned on the Full Moon. Too early or too late and, nothing.
Blood color: Bronze
Capraa is the definition of a Bronzeblood who craves stability. He craves it to the point where he’ll settle for a ground filled with glass as long as it doesn’t move. Back before everything fell atop of him, he was very much a classic Bronzeblood- he keeps little trinkets of his previous life all around him, but he cannot remember anymore what they mean, only that he must protect them with his life.
God… him surrounded by all these literal connections to the past that he quite literally is being Forced to deny because he can’t remember them… what a page of blood.
Symbol and meaning: Absolutely Ironic,
TAURCER, THE CHERISHED
Trolltag: [TT] tacitTherianthrope
“Tacit” is a word meaning “implied or unspoken” but is most often used in the phrase “tacit approval”, an ironic adjective for someone who’s been experimented on past the point of humanity. Perhaps obviously, “Therianthrope” is “someone who turns into an animal”, a catchall for all animal based shapeshifters. The connection is obvious. Crypha knew what she was doing.
Quirk: hrrrrrrrrrrrr…. It’s hard for Capra to communicate without vocalizing some kind of grrrr…. Growls or howls into his speech. When he gets ANGRY, he’ll BARK certain WORDS almost at random GRRRRRRR
This is so good… and I want to help him.
Special Abilities (if any): As the premier (and only surviving) experiment of Crypha’s into the nature of Lusus/Troll bonding, Capraa’s entire limbs have been replaced with those of his lusus. He possesses the claws and hooves of his former mammalian custodian. In addition, she took the horns from his lusus and grafted them onto his head, giving him two pairs of horns that weight down his head.
Capraa used to have a Bronze-related power to soothe even the most savage beasts, which he could channel through his voice. Now, even being in the same room as an animal or lusus causes them to go absolutely berserk, threatening to tear him to shreds if he draws closer. He hasn’t tried to weaponize this, mostly because it terrifies him,
In dubious terms of “ability”, Capraa’s been fitted with more of Crypha’s control spores than anyone else. Who even knows what they’re programmed to do, but will most likely kill him shortly after activating them.
Goddd I want to help him!! I want to make him happy.
Lusus: A odd wolf-goat hybrid that Capraa lovingly called “his favorite shepherd”, his lusus was murdered and experimented on, before being welded into and onto him in various horrific ways. Sometimes he thinks he can hear its voice in his pulse, warning him to run, run, run! The wolves have all fled this blasted land!
Listen to your lusus, Capraa. I love the idea that he gets a kind of Dream Jadequerelsprite protectiveness… Lesser, obviously, since the lusus is just a tiny little voice, but still… precedent!
Interests: Veterinary Science and Medicine, Animal Psychology, The Coevolution of Lusii and Trolls, Not Being A Disappointment, Really Rare Meat, New and Exciting Forms of Compartmentalization
Appearance: Capraa’s seen better days. His eyes are starting to turn into… something else. He doesn’t have a mirror to check, but he can feel them start to be uncomfortable in his skull. His hair has been shaved, giving his dead, faraway eyes some context. The four horns on his head affect his posture, causing him to lower his head at all times. He hides the limbs that are now his own but should not be beneath a giant, white hospital gown that is his uniform. The Sign of the Cherished -a symbol he cannot remember- hangs painted on a piece of wood hung loosely around his neck, as much a punishment as it is a identity.
Since he’s got some lusus in him and the capra demon has a white head, I might put some patches of white starting to form on him as well… We’ll see. He’s going to be great fun to sprite.
Personality: Capraa’s never been the type to deal with other people well. He makes awkward jokes, he doesn’t remember birthdays, he’s a hellspawn created by mad science. Even before all the trauma, Capraa had always preferred animals to people. He desperately wants friends, but animals always seemed to respond better to him. Less fiddly bits to get in the way of his raw friendliness. He’s always been a bit of a space-case, able to put disparate thoughts together in ways that didn’t make sense at first but suddenly jump out as obvious once he voices them. A genuine prodigy in his field, he’s always found it hard to communicate what he understands in ways that other people find reasonable or manageable. He’s always worked on what feels right as opposed to what is good protocol or what is legal and safe, so while he was good at what he did, nobody ever wanted to rely on him for it. Now, nobody can rely on him now.
He has a bad habit of being timid to a fault, and he doesn’t like loud noises or people getting angry, so he’s always apologizing for something. He tends to gravitate towards people with stronger personalities than him, subconsciously seeking a kind of confidence he doesn’t have. All this ever gets him is another set of insecurities.
My boy you were so set up for pain and you got the Worst imaginable dose of it.
Title: Page of Blood
Active Classes That Remain: Maid, Witch, Thief,
Passive Classes That Remain: Sylph, Page
Capraa’s a long suffering Blood player who’s had all the energy he had to make bonds absolutely obliterated. He clings to the rules presented to him under the delusion that this will make the people above him happy, and therefore will make them like him, and be his friend and equal. This will not happen. Capraa’s the kind of person to overburden himself in order to take the burden off of others- even if that burden he believes he is taking is imaginary, a kind of Breath inversion.
As a Page, Capraa just kind of… sucks at all of this. He’s unreliable, he doesn’t understand social cues very well, and he ends up having people with related Aspects go on and exploit his right out from under him! Pages end up often being the playthings of people they think are their friends, and Capraa is no exception. [In fact, he’s quite like another Bronze Page with a Cerulean troll above him….]
Perhaps some time in the future he could grow a backbone, learn some social skills, and actually use that animal magnetism for something productive for once. That, of course, would involve him being able to not scare anyone and anything just by existing, but… details.
I’m sure once he gets grounded in his session he can get himself better established and create a better web of connections… I like the idea of him advancing and developing as a page and when he finally god tiers just. Fucking Crypha up. I know we’ve discussed it, but… him exploiting his bond with Crypha in order to fool her. She’s so used to him being submissive that he just has to act the part and then take a stab at her. But also him forging new friendships with others and then passively using those bonds to give himself confidence to stand up for himself and take back control of his life…
Land: The Land of Rose Quartz and Mazes
Capraa’s hooves click as they land on a land of bleached stone. At the surface, there is nothing but the baking sun. Before him lies a crack in the rock that leads further down into darkness. He looks around, but there is nobody to tell him to move on. The sun beating down on him eventually becomes unbearable and he reluctantly moves, hoof in front of the other, down into the cool darkness of the earth.
Capraa’s land is one gigantic, planet sized maze. Dead ends hold cities filled with disparate factions, all looking to discover the secrets held at the maze’s center:The Denizen and its horde. It’s not going to be easy, and it’s going to take every ounce of diplomacy he can squeeze out of his personality to make it there, but he thinks -just maybe- he could do it.
The eyes of a beast were made for the dark, after all.
Your planets are always so gooood.
Dream Planet: Prospit
Capraa is a quintessential Prospit dreamer- he was energetic, emotional, and perceptive, and knew how to conform and adapt to conflicting rulesets without missing a beat. It was these traits that led him to being taken advantage of, but they are also the traits that have kept him alive. He is the perfect Igor, the perfect Henchman. If Master wills it to be so, Capraa can contort himself into whatever they demand.
Design:
Oh man, I had to play some troll anatomy jenga here. I lowered the head to emphasize the arch of the back just enough to make things look uncomfortable and slouched while also extending the body to make up for the lost length… Hope it worked, haha.
Horns: Obviously I based them on his sign and then on the wild goat’s horns.
Eyes: I tilted them and made them sharp like wolf eyes, but gave the eyes goat-like pupils. I also had the white areas I mentioned extend upwards to the head, trying to just vaguely reference the headshape of the capra demon.
Mouth: I gave him both some underbite teeth and some overbite teeth, because I wanted both wolf and goat elements in there.
Outfit: I just wanted his outfit to be relatively plain and simple, so I kept the design elements to a minimum, but I Did put some vague wood hints on the sign.
Legs: I’ve gotta admit, I referenced Aurthour here.
GOD I love this poor, unfortunate man…
-CD
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