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just-1other-nerd · 1 year

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Decided to do a "live" commentary on a show I'm currently watching, so yeah Idk I guess I'll just write my unfiltered thoughts about Crash Landing on You starting with the end of episode 2.

She had depression and other mental health issues which explains why she acts so suicidal from time to time, for example when she acts really stupid, like the time she ran through a mine field, or when she displays a no-one-can-do-me-anything attitude whilst talking to the soldiers (because even if she is a spoiled rich girl and in shock, she is generally too smart to underestimate the situation) because she seems to not care that much whether she survives.

So I didn't expect that to evolve into a fake dating trope but I'm here for it. I mean we already had forced proximity and enemies to lovers so they didn't need to go so hard but they did anyways.

She really is going to girlboss her way through this crisis, isn't she?

Oh shit, the bad guy has a surveillance device?!

This guy really never saw curly hair like mine if he thinks hers is messy.

Okay update to epidode 5: Shit, the Major bad guy knows she wants to leave the country, the con artist bad guy knows she's in North Kroea and the real fiancé kinda knows about them?! How the hell are they supposed to get out of this mess?

The hair cut the fiancé's mum has in episode 6 is so feaking ugly, I can't.

"Oh fuck, not that bitch." I say as I smile and lean back to enjoy the drama that's about to ensue.

I don't know about you but I wanted her to be the one who shoots the attacker in episode 6.

Him speaking German (aka my native language) was just hilarious no matter how sad the scene was. Also damn, that Swiss guy couldn't be less sensitive when he told him his brother died. And why were the piano and his bags on that landing stage? I mean the pictures where nice but what's the logic behind that?

The thing about K dramas is that if they already kiss around the halfway point of the series, something bad is going to happen and make everything difficult...

Btw they really couldn't find an uglier hospital gown for him to wear.

Wow, the con man actually has a consciousness. And he actually gives the fiancé some solid love advice? I'm a little bit impressed, he's not as flat and one-dimensional as I initially thought.

Now, all of the antagonists know that she is a South Korean citizen, the angst this gives me is so bad.

It is physically not possible to hear a piano tune from that far away on a boat which's engine is on.

Idk using an ambulance for something personal feels very wrong.

The K drama obsessed guy translating the dialects will never not be funny. Btw I ship him with the K Pop girl.

She pushes him away to protect him, but she is hurting herself, him and me.

That one soldier is such a snitch, he is so lucky that the mum couldn't restrain her drinking.

I love how hearing that the main guys father is one of the mighty broke the brain of the queen bee.

This maybe a bit unhinged but when Se-ri says that the main guys dad looks like his fiancé and we've been told that her dad is dead I made up the insane theory that Dan could actually be the result of an affair. I don't think that's true but whatever.

His mum really just went "mother-in-law mode activated".

I want a scene where she is like "How can you say you're fine when you literally got shot, beaten and had fever in just the last few days?" And the parents giving each other the biggest wtf side eye ever.

As a booklover the bookshelf I love you kills me.

She really is that bitch that makes THE most dramatic entrance just to say "Guess what I'm back from the dead". A true girlboss.

The auntie squad found out who she really is. Idk their dynamic gets me.

WTF the end of episode 10 like what is going on?

Bro goes on a cave expedition and doesn't even have one of those forehead lamps? Poor planning and here I thought they were equipped better.

Finally he's got a decent haircut!

Okay but I actually ship the con man and Dan.

The auntie squad is being supportive and I love that, okay, let me fangirl, I somehow need that right now.

Their hugs mean much more to me than their kisses because they mean they're there for each other and comfort each other.

Did they really just kill the con man, I was so inversted in his love story with Dan!

Their goodbye at the border was a bit too melodramatic for my taste.

The ending is okay, I expected something like this but still it's sad that they can't have the future they dreamed about when they were drunk, the future where they marry and have children but I also don't want that to happen at the expense of their lives as they know them. So yeah the ending was the best compromise.

#k drama #kdrama #crash landing on you #commentary

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mayabishcp · 2 years

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@reiignonme sent: sender takes receiver’s hand and kisses their wrist, lingering there to feel their pulse against their lips. FROM CAROL.

SHE HAD been in an insane amount of pain, or at least, she had been before the blonde found herself being admitted into hospital after because of an incident on a scene. But, that’s where the fire captain found herself, in a half laying position on the sterile hospital bed, with a gown half on a dislocated shoulder. Bruises elsewhere and smoke inhalation but over all, she was fine. And she was alive. That in itself really was all that mattered. She would be alive to fight another day, and fight she meant literally be able to fight fire another day. Letting out a small yawn, she closed her eyes for a brief moment, allowing herself some time to actually be able TO THINK.

MAYA WAS broken out of her thoughts at the hand that moved to hold her own before she turned her attention to the hand that was holding her own. With a smile, a faint one at that, she watched as Carol raised her hand to her mouth, pressing a kiss to her wrist, holding for a moment something of which Maya assumed she was trying to feel her pulse. “I’m fine my love, I promise. I’m alive and that’s all THAT MATTERS.”

#reiignonme #&& threads with carol danvers - reiignonme #( sorry I'm busy fighting fires at the moment please leave a queue )

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demcnsinmymind · 2 years

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trying to wrap my brain around the new/old canon with all the timey wimey bendy stuff, canon and headcanon talk behind a cut because it long and gif spammy

THE GIST OF IT - My canon/headcanon

With the new footage it’s become pretty clear that the timeline between GE1-GE2, the OG GE1 ending and the premise of GE3 is anything but linear or can even work 100%, but I’m basically gonna be cherry picking the best out of all 4 worlds.

The 1948 storyline is more or less canon. Be it for my portrayal and my very own headcanons, but also from a movie canon point of view. I’m especially basing this on the cut footage and interview snippets that outlined what GE3 was/is gonna be about:

I still refuse to consider most of the story + the ending to GE2 canon. It was simply too whack and stupid and I’d like to think slighty OOC for the building. Like, why the heck would it pick some stupid clueless teenager to get shit done for its agenda when Lance has more than proven to be on par with its strength and mindfuckery. The only canon I extract from that ending is that Collingwood has become far too attached to him to be willing to actually let him leave the building. But other than that the man said it himself: the building chose him. Not some teenager.

Aspects from GE2 that I’m accepting as canon: Lance has gone outright insane. He has walked through every door in the building. He has mapped the entire thing and figured out how it works. The building is as big as a city. The building has an agenda and is sentient. Whatever is inside it can communicate with Lance and he can talk to it, too. Lance has committed at least one murder inside the building, and very much likely due to being possessed/forced by it (as implied).

I consider the cut ending/outcome for Lance as seen in the deleted GE1 footage only somewhat canon. Namely that 1. he got out of the building alive eventually and that 2. without Collingwood and all the supernatural and time-bendy fuckery, Lance would be a shell of his former self, and the lobotomy did some serious damage to him. I consider it canon that without him being possessed, he’d have to be institutionalized. I mean it just goes along with some of the possible actual and real side effects of the procedure.

However, I’m diverging from the actual canon because I cannot bear the thought of one of my fav characters being pretty much braindead :) Hence the full on possession headcanon after he got out of Collingwood. Only way to keep the boy functioning.

OTHER CANON & HEADCANON STUFF

THE PATIENT ROOM - Canon stuff

Despite of everything that I know was lost due to the cut to the OG ending, it can still be considered canon that the yellow patient room with the writings on the wall was in fact Lance’s room. Even with most of it cut it was still heavily implied that he either wrote some of the stuff on the walls himself or at least made the entity inside the room write stuff as form of communication with him. It’s not random rambling from some random patient. The room and the writing in it is canonically linked to Lance no matter what.

Stuff that survived the cut of the original ending:

He’s is still screaming the famous tagline from the room at the end of GE1 when he’s going insane.

He’s also shown inside the room right next to the writing in the GE1 trailer, wearing a hospital gown that he never canonically wore in the theatrical cut of GE1:

but then did canonically wear in a flashback in GE2, once again in the very same room:

Plus he did canonically wear the patient wristband:

And we legit saw new writing appear inside the room as he talked to the walls.

Plus it became canon in GE2 that he wrote on the walls himself and the handwriting is super similar to the yellow room.

Conclusion: No matter what was cut, I consider it canon that the yellow room was his room. The foreshadowing and editing was just too big of a thing.

NEW kinda noncanon footage regarding the room and Lance from the deleted scenes that were posted two weeks ago:

I mean COME ON. It’s fucking canon.

Also worth noting: Him saying “He said I’m all better now. I can finally go home.” in this footage instead of the other canon footage. Which brings me to the next plotpoint:

Original canon ending for GE1 and off screen lobotomy

During the last moments of GE1, Lance enters Friedkin’s basement and gets attacked off camera.

We hear him screaming and begging not to be lobotomized, but this proves to be unsuccessful. The last shot of the film shows Lance still in his normal(!) clothes, talking to the camera as he bleeds from his left eye and is in shock.

He says the lines “He says I’m all better now. I can finally go home.” here instead of the patient room (meh).

I’m kinda thinking they did a reshoot for this ending after they decided to cut the OG 1940s stuff.

Cut 1940s footage and actual on screen lobotomy

I think the reason why his lobotomy wasn’t shown on screen in the theatrical ending of the movie was because he didn’t wear his modern clothes anymore. However, thanks to behind the scenes footage we know that at this point in the story, he’d completely slipped into the 1940s/patients timeline and wore the old hospital clothes.

And it’s actually shown in the movie anyway, at the beginning, once again with a direct cut to him in modern times:

Conclusion: THAT 1948 STORYLINE WOULD’VE BEEN FUCKING GLORIOUS WHY’D YOU CUT IT

#text post #headcanons #demons in my mind : main #I'm not crazy : 40s verse #about

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thatidicchick · 3 years

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Staging Intimate Assault without Triggering the Audience: example from A Streetcar Named Desire

(Trigger warning: discussion of sexual assault and theatrical depictions thereof; domestic violence)

Scenes of intimate violence can often be triggering for audience members. Statistically, 1 in 3 women and 1 in 4 men in the US have experienced attempted or completed sexual assault (Source: nsvrc.org); it is logical then that scenes that graphically depict that trauma might be upsetting or even damaging to audience members who have been there IRL (or even those who haven’t tbh). As part of intimacy work/consent based practice, theatres have been discussing implementing standards for rating systems/disclosing to audience members what they are about to see (I am all for it); but what about one of the most famous plays in the American canon? A significant portion of audience members going to see a production of A Streetcar Named Desire KNOW about the violence — intimate and otherwise — the script contains, and yet it is still so often shocking and disturbing to the point of, as a theatre professional I know put it, “just taking us out of the story”, as in the assault is so horrific and brutal that the audience members can’t maintain suspension of disbelief and can’t kept engaging with the work on stage because it’s just. Too. Much. At that point, who is the work for? The fight director who was asked to do intimacy showing off? The actors showing off how vile they can be as their characters? Whoever it is, it ain’t for the audience or the sake of good storytelling, and that is unfortunate.

But then there was the production of A Streetcar Named Desire that streamed via National Theatre Live starring Gillian Anderson and Ben Foster (directed by Benedict Andrews; I couldn’t find an intimacy coordinator listed, but stunts were by Bret Yount. IC work and Stunt work IS NOT the same, but potentially another example of how movement professionals are asked to pull double or triple duty).

In this production, the fight choreography is, first of all, incredibly story driven and organic; instead of horrific images of a man beating on his wife (as is often the case when the combat is staged to show off, not to tell the story), a logical sequence of events tell the story of escalation that didn’t have to happen, but you kind of see how or why it might (Foster also does the work to add so much nuance as Stanley; he is not just a sociopath or a brute, which makes the plot much more powerful and engaging because the audience doesn’t feel like it’s a lost cause to want him to not be horrible to his wife or sister in law). This is important, because it is a type of physical storytelling that is accessible to the audience, doesn’t turn them off, gets them to care about movement sequences, and then leads into surprisingly stylized, but insanely effective, intimacy.

The first intimacy sequence in this production is between married couple Stanley and Stella post a physical altercation; it is heightened, with dramatic music and less realistic movement, but perfectly communicates the relationship and power dynamic between the two and gives needed context for a fairly problematic speech Stella gives shortly thereafter about, more or less, enjoying her husband’s aggressive/occasionally violent energy sexually. It is not to make the audience agree with or condone how he treats his wife, but it helps us understand why a woman with her particular trauma might be drawn to a man whose energy is so toxic. It is the first production of this show that I’ve seen that has any actual depiction of intimacy between those two that shows what Stella means in that speech, and exactly what hold Stanley has on her, even as he’s proven to be a pretty awful person.

But the main reason I’m writing this — the key moment of intimacy that stuck with me — is the sexual assault Stanley enacts on a passed out drunk Blanche (Stella’s tragic, delusional, southern belle, addict sister — sorry that I’m not going into more detail on the genius of that performance/lowkey selling the character short for the purpose of this post). Stanley’s frustration with Blanche for, essentially, being traumatized and having unhealthy coping mechanisms rises throughout the play until their final scene together, where Stella is in the hospital after having given birth and the two are left alone in the apartment together. The scene escalates until the intimate assault takes place — however, unlike most productions I have seen where it is brutal, graphic, and realistic, this production goes entirely in a different direction. There are, of course, references in the text to Stanley being “ape like”; Foster incorporates this subtly into his physicality throughout the show, and in this scene of assault, he places Blanche on the bed, leaps up between her legs, and, mimicking an ape, tosses about the petticoats and layers of the formal gown she is wearing. It is impossibly gentle and completely horrifying — and, unlike the more realistic depictions of sexual assault that often appear in the show, allows the audience to stay engaged in the scene through the metaphorical action, so that they understand what happens to Blanche without having to actually watch it, and therefore can be emotionally fully present in the devastating final scene, where she is taken away to an asylum.

This is, truthfully, some of my favorite intimate staging I have ever seen, and an example of how intimate violence can read clearly to the audience through metaphorical staging that does not traumatize. We do not necessarily need graphic, violent, realistic, in your face sequences of intimate violence, and I would love to see more work that features moments like this to tell those stories.

#a streetcar named desire #intimacy direction #intimacy coordination #national theatre

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ethanramseyyy · 4 years

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OPEN HEART: SECOND YEAR CHAPTER 17

So that just happened!!!! I can’t believe it, a 30 diamond scene with Ethan in his goddamn office. Our prayers have finally been answered. Ugh, just everything about this chapter gave me life.

Firstly, Kyras idea to throw a gala to try and save Edenbrook was brilliant. It reminded me of Greys Anatomy’s Gala episode if any of you have ever seen that. It was epic!! And I loved Bryces response to the idea ‘some of us do everything in style’. Typical Bryce. Also Kyras little afro is the cutest, she’s such an angel 🥺

June is leaving!!! The lack of loyalty towards Edenbrook is so disrespectful. I’ve said this before but I’m not sure about June. One minute I think we are friends and the next I hate her. Just me? Honestly, I don’t know what she was thinking when she asked MC to go to kenmore with her, like we were going to leave Edenbrook. I could never. I understand that Edenbrook isn’t looking too good at the moment but surely being on the diagnostics team you would feel a sense of loyalty towards the hospital.

Ethan and MCs first date. I mean even though Ethan wouldn’t admit it, we all know it was. The way he got all flustered and was trying to convince us it isn’t a date. This man has my whole entire heart. According to him, it was the only logical idea for him to go with MC, when realistically we could have gone with anyone. I like that he was trying to play it cool when we all know he is deeply in love with MC. I’m hoping we get an actually first date just the two of us because that would be perfect.

When I tell you I legit SCREAMED when Ethan walked into the apartment in his tux. How can this man be so god damn fine without even trying. Did I spend like 25 diamonds to wear the red dress to the ball? Yes. Yes I did, it was too pretty to not ok. And Ethans reaction made me think of book 1 when we went to the conference and we told him we had nothing to wear and then stepped out in the ball gown. Some things never change.

Also Ethan saying that it was nice to see our friends in their element, just goes to show how much he enjoys our company. They are literally a match made in heaven. I hope we get to see more moments with Ethan and our friends because I think it would be really sweet to see them interacting.

I did choose to take a picture with Ethan because hello when would I ever have the chance again. I wish we actually got to see the picture but hopefully when we move in together (which will be happening) that it will be framed in our bedroom. Tell me that him wrapping his arms around MCs waist isn’t the most beautiful little interaction ever. They are precious 🥰

NAVEEN. My angel. I miss him. I hope we get to see Naveen with MC and Ethan more because I miss their interactions. I feel like they had such a sweet relationship in book one and it hasn’t really been investigated in book two. Him saying his proud of Ethan melted my heart, their relationship is so cute.

Ethan kissed us in front of everyone. Naveen. Ines. Zaid. Everyone! He just gave up with our act of not being together and finally admitted to everyone. Not like they didn’t already know. Ahhh, IM READY FOR AN ENGAGEMENT. And then the dance. Like they actually danced with each other. I can’t deal. We better have a flashback to that very moment during our first dance at our wedding.

IN THE OFFICE. You don’t know how long i’ve waited for this. Well how long we’ve all waited for this. Now I can’t lie, it’s not the best 30 diamond scene we have had with Ethan but it was worth the wait. It was still perfection. And the fact it was in his office on the desk. Wow. We really were served with the Ethan goodies today and I couldn’t be happier.

Kyras reaction to Ethan and MC coming back from their little rendezvous was amazing 😅. She knew. And she wasn’t mad. To be honest I think everyone in the whole hospital knows we are together. We were just kidding ourselves into thinking that we were successfully hiding our relationship from them. But honestly Kyra is my favourite person.

June leaving felt quite rushed and out of the blue. One minute she’s trying to save Edenbrook and the next she’s leaving. I don’t really understand but maybe it’s because of Tobias. I hope we do get to see her though because I think she is an interesting character. I did not know what to do about Esme. When it said our decision could affect our relationship with Esme and the hospital, it was so much pressure. I chose to stay faithful to Esme and say that she did it by accident. Hopefully we get to save Edenbrook though because I love the hospital and the people in it.

I want to apologise that I didn’t get a summary out last week i’ve been really busy lately but i’m going to try and stay on top of it. I’m so close to 600 followers which is insane!!! Thank you all so much. Also let me know what options you picked and how they differed from mine. Especially the one with Esme. Thanks for all the support ❤️

#choices #open heart #playchoices #openheart #ethanramseyyy #choicesoh #dr ethan ramsey #open heart: choices

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sahbibabe · 4 years

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Divine Rebellion (1)

Divine Rebellion

Chapter One

Vergil/Nero's Mom! Reader

❝Folly loves the martyrdom of fame.❞

✷

In which [Name] [Surname] is confronted by Nero's birth father with a horrifying truth─that as Nero's adoptive mother, his devil side has recognized her as its other half and as such, wishes to claim her as its own.

Unfortunately for Vergil, there's one giant cinch in that plan: Nero himself.

"Mornin', Ms. Nero! Whew, you look like you just got hit by a big ol' truck! Er... Sorry, Nero keeps tellin' me to shut my mouth 'bout it. Didn't mean nothin' by it─"

A soft, weak, yet amused voice interrupted,"Nico, it's alright. Nero should know by now that I enjoy your particular brand of crudeness."

[Name] [Surname]─Ms. Nero to Nico, Ms. [Name] to some, or just plain [Name]─laid in her hospital bed with the grace of a cat. She reclined back upon the bed in half a stretch, her arms raised above her head in an attempt to pop her hands out of the handcuffs that kept her chained to the bed and, effectively, to her IV. She rattled the small length of chain between her wrists, working one of her thumbs out of the metal with a sickening pop.

Just as Nico sat down in the chair opposite her bed, the sound of a joint being dislocated echoed throughout the small sterile room. [Name] met her slightly horrified gaze with her own, offering her a tiny smile in reply as she finished working the rest of her hand out of the cuff.

"Oh that was gross... And kinda cool, now that I think about it, but─how in the hell did you manage to get handcuffed to your bed, Ms. [Name]? I'm sure Kyrie only left you for a day while we were gone─"

[Name] tossed the handcuffs aside with a huff. She then shoved her arm in front of Nico's face to reveal the red, throbbing skin of her arm and the giant red and purple bruise that was starting to run all the way from her IV to her shoulder and hand. If that wasn't painful enough, hives had started breaking out upon her skin, raised and painful.

"Because of this," [Name] replied sullenly. "It always happens when I'm given medicine of any kind. Right now I'm on a pretty hefty dose of morphine, but I don't know if it's doing more harm than good at this point."

Nico cringed backwards. "Yikes. You don't need anything for it? Looks awful."

"No," [Name] said as casually as possible. "Say, Nico, where is Nero? I thought you said the job was finished and that he was coming home. That was a month ago."

"Uh..." Nico stared at her, open mouthed for a moment, and then looked away in slight shame. "Well, there was a little problem... with uh... DanteandVergilkindofneededhelpbustingoutofhellsoNerowenttodoit."

Hopeful, the gunsmith looked up, praying that the woman hadn't heard what she said, but judging by the insanely pissed off expression that was crawling over her face with enough anger to make Nico shake in her chair, she wasn't that lucky.

"I'm sorry?" [Name] blinked widely. "You didn't just say that Dante─the man who kicks my son's ass from dusk till dawn because it's fun─needed help getting out of hell, did you? Because I thought I told Nero─rrgh, why do none of you tell me anything?!"

Nero's specific words had been,"Don't tell my mom, because she needs some rest, and she'll gut me like a fish if she knew what I was doing," but Nico was not going to tell the increasingly pissed off lady that bit of information. It would likely just make her angrier.

For the brief moment Nico had been lost in thought, [Name] had already been pulling out her IV and unclipping her heart monitor. She rolled out of the bed and onto her feet, making a morphine fueled march to the door. Nico gawked as the paper gown she wore flew open, exposing the entirety of her back and behind, and darted after her, yanking it closed with a blush creeping up her neck.

"Ms. [Name], as much as I love you, and I know you do, I don't think the entire hospital wants to see your lady bits!"

"Sure they do, they practically beg for it!" Nico was sure that was meant to be coy, but it came out angry and enraged. She didn't know whether to laugh, cry, or both.

"What would Nero say if you neglected your health?"

"My health can go to hell! As soon as I get my hands on Dante Sparda's white, hairy a─"

"Ms. [Name], no!" Nico cried. The paper gown flew off in a plasticky crinkling sound, exposing her entire body for the world to see. She saw one CNA drop the files he was carrying and stare unabashedly at her, but it wasn't lust like Nico had been expecting─it was disgust.

[Name] had gone unusually still in her grip. Almost instantly, her hands flew to cover something on her stomach, but Nico couldn't tell what it was from behind her. The sudden fear and shame she felt was almost physically cloying; she backed into Nico, almost tripping over her completely, and retreated back into her room as fast as a rabbit.

"I'm sorry," Nico said to the CNA. She picked up the paper gown and entered the room again, only to find [Name] curled up in her tiny bathroom, knees pulled up to cover her belly. "Ms. [Name]..? You alright there ma'am?"

She didn't say a word.

"Er..." The gunsmith stood awkwardly in the doorway, then fished around in the closet for a fresh gown. "Let's get you somethin' clean, yeah? I don't think you'd want a dirty one that's been on the ground..."

Nico held out the paper gown. [Name] got to her feet unsteadily, arms shooting out to keep her balance, and Nico saw it; only for a brief moment, but it was there, red and bright and angry. It was puckered up and full of fever, a scar almost the span of her arm that looked like it would have bisected her completely in half. Veins, black and varicose, pulsed in time with her heartbeat.

When she secured the ties to the gown in the back, Nico asked, softly,"Ms. [Name], your stomach..."

"Nero didn't tell you?" [Name] got back into her bed without a complaint. "I have these weird... blackouts sometimes. Sometimes I wake up with unexplained bruises or cuts or scrapes... But this time, I woke up one morning, and this was there. It wasn't as pretty as it was then, I assure you; there was blood everywhere. On the bed, on the walls, down the hall... Morrison said it looked like a scene out of a horror movie."

Nico plopped down into her seat with a frown. "How come you... You don't have any idea what's been happenin' to ya?"

"No," [Name] shook her head and pulled the scratchy blankets up to her shoulders. "I get little pieces, but never enough to tell what happened... Nico, can you hand me that cup of water? Thank you."

"No problem."

"But this thing... nothing. I can't even remember the days leading up to it."

"Morphine's a pretty strong drug," Nico joked halfheartedly.

"I suppose..."

"Have you told Nero?"

"He knows... he just doesn't know about this in particular."

"Ms. [Name]!"

"I know, I know. But he was on a mission. Still is, actually. Kyrie thinks I'm in here for a B12 deficiency."

"Ms. [Name], you can't do that," Nico protested. She gently shook the woman's shoulders to demonstrate her frustration. "Nero worries about you, y'know? Not telling him will just make it worse."

"I was waiting until he got back," she admitted,"but that's taking longer than I thought it would..."

Nico watched in shock as she fell asleep right in the middle of her sentence. A few minutes later and she was snoring, away in her own world, and mumbling incoherently.

Taking her chance, the gunsmith turned out the lights and closed the door quietly.

She had a phone call to make.

#devil may cry #vergil x reader #nero's mother #nero's mom

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lia-jones · 4 years

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Growing Pains - Chapter Twenty Four - Unfinished Business

When I was ten, my piano teacher organized a small contest for students. It should be pretty small, but the unexpected happen. One of my piano teacher’s friends, Matteo Mancini, an acclaimed pianist, was in the jury.

By that time all I could think about was the piano, school being a secondary obligation. I lived and breathed to tickle that ivory and turn it into song, and my ambition was to be such a great pianist as the acclaimed Mancini, so obviously I was a huge fan, and it was an honor to play for him.

Decided, I prepared myself for the big day. I was going to play one of my favorite pieces, one I recently just started to master: Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy by Tchaikovsky. I rehearsed night and day, stopping only to address my daily obligations, such as school and meals and sleep. I really wanted to win, but most of all, I wanted to prove Mr. Mancini my worth, show him my talent, maybe get some advice for my future career.

My brother wasn’t as passionate about music as I was. Ironically enough, since he was the one that ended up with a musical career, as I took a major turn towards Economics. But by that age, he was learning the bass pretty much because my mom made him, and he couldn’t care less about lessons or rehearsals. And one day, he was really bored, nagging me to go with him to the greenhouse and play treasure hunt, hiding random stuff in the soil of my mother’s vases.

When he asked, I said no, sitting on my piano, stubbornly practicing until it sounded perfect even with my eyes closed. He decided to convince me in another way: by being extremely, utterly annoying. And that drove me insane. I had my drive, my ambition, and I needed to follow through with it.

This passion that I had, the one that made me go the extra mile to achieve success, was fortunately one I had brought with me to my work, making me able to complete my doctorate, get a new job, and see my clients succeed as well.

And I walked out of Victor’s limo with pride, watching what a great job Miss Bates had done with hosting her fashion show, the one I had proposed to her months ago, before Victor and I were even a couple.

Although I didn’t work at LFG anymore, Miss Bates asked me if I could still give my opinion on some aspects concerning the planning of the whole show, and I gladly took that task, answering emails and offering advice when needed. In return, Miss Bates offered me one of the gowns designed for the show, and a place as a guest of honor at her reception.

I felt like a princess in that tule dark blue ball gown dress, with white Swarovski crystals covering the halter backless bodice and drawing constellations on the skirt. Victor took my hand and led me to the white carpet, where paparazzi and reporters were to meet us, just as I had advised Miss Bates to have.

Miss Bates was already at the door to greet us, her smile a mile wide.

“Andrea! Victor! So nice to see you both!” She said, shaking both our hands. “Sweetie, you look so beautiful in that dress! You’ll be the most beautiful woman in here!” Miss Bates said, and I gave a discreet semi twirl, expressing my happiness.

“Thank you for your generosity, Miss Bates.” I thanked her, smiling. “It’s astonishing. I have no words to express my gratitude.”

“Oh, Andrea, I’m the one without words!” She touched my shoulder lovingly. “I would never have the courage to prepare something so big, if not for your encouragement. And it’s going so well!” She shook her hands, acting giddy. “Well, I want you both to enjoy yourselves. Get a drink, the show will begin soon. I have some other guests to greet!”

She left us and said something to the waiter, pointing at us. Soon enough, both me and Victor were sipping champagne.

“Miss Bates is absolutely right.” Victor whispered in my ear. “You are the most beautiful woman in the room.”

“Oh, stop it.” I blushed, giving him a discreet playful nudge. “You seem to be unusually left alone, don’t know many people here?”

“No, not my usual area of busin--” And just like that he froze, his eyes following something behind me. Suddenly, I heard a chirpy voice behind me.

“Victor!”

I barely had the time to move away. Before I knew it, a very tiny woman almost jumped to Victor’s arms. He was suddenly pale, his usual poker face in place, looking down at the woman.

“Mia.” He said in a hoarse voice, clearing his throat right after. “You’re organizing the fashion show?”

“Yes!” She exclaimed, an excited look on her slightly childish face. “We had some fierce competition for this project, but Miss Bates signed in immediately when she knew we used to work together.”

And then the pieces all fit together, the proverbial coin dropped, the bigger picture came to frame. This was the producer. The love he never got to live. Victor’s unfinished business. I quickly noticed my mouth dropped a bit with surprise and composed myself. I smiled placidly, trying not to give out my real feelings. Whether we admit it or not, we all have our social walls. Victor’s was his emblematic poker face, mine was a serene smile, which I took from Dr. Mariana.

“Good for you.” Victor concluded the subject, turning to me. “Andrea, this is Mia Carter, LFG funded her company a few years back.”

“Nice meeting you.” I said, shaking her hand.

“And Mia, this is Andrea….” Victor paused shortly, giving me a loving look. “My girlfriend.”

Mia’s childish eyes open very wide, her mouth forming a perfect O. She shook my hand even harder.

“You have a girlfriend?” She looked at Victor, shaking my hand so hard I feared she would dislocate my shoulder. “So nice to meet you! You can call me MC.” She said with a slightly high-pitched voice, hugging me. My serene smile was replaced by an uneasy frown.

“Let go of her, dummy.” Victor reprimanded. “You’re making her uncomfortable.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” She let go of me blushing. “It’s just that I’ve known Victor for a long time, and he was usually so lonely… I’m glad you found each other.” She smiled, and noticed my dress. “Your dress is so beautiful!”

“Thanks, it’s actually from one of the designers, and with Miss Bates amazing fabric.” I said, moving slightly to make the crystals shine under the light.

“Of course, you’re Andrea!” Her face lightened up. “Miss Bates talks a lot about you. The whole show was your idea! And I loved all your suggestions, by the way. You would be a great producer!” Her face turned serious all of a sudden, a decided look in her eyes. “You must wear that dress of yours on the catwalk! It’s a masterpiece, and we’d end the show with a sweet loving note.”

My eyes widened. Hell no. Over my dead body.

“I don’t think that’s a really good idea…” I started.

“It’s a brilliant idea! Miss Bates will love it!” I tried to refuse again, but she simply wouldn’t let me. “I’ll talk to her and then I’ll let you know when to go on stage! I have to go now, but I’ll see you soon!”

Victor chuckled as she left. I just stood there, and I bet my mouth formed a perfect O.

“She’s stubborn. That’s what got her the funding in the first place.” He chimed in.

I didn’t reply, the wheels still turning inside my head. Did I agree to be on stage?

“All you need is a drink.” Victor said, handing me another glass of champagne. “But not too many. You don’t want to stumble on your dress.” He teased. “She’s right. You have been the catalyst for this event. And everybody should see how beautiful you look.”

After a while, we were asked to take a seat to watch the show. And it was a huge hit. I could easily recognize some big names of the fashion industry sitting there, watching in amazement the beautiful creations with the fabrics made by Miss Bates company. After a while, Mia came to our spot to call us backstage. I walked with her, never letting go of Victor’s hand.

Miss Bates pulled me immediately behind the curtain, her eyes glimmering.

“Thank you so much, Andrea. Thank you for being so bold that day and showing an old woman that she can still have spunk! These last months were the most exciting of my life! Thank you!” She said as she held my hand.

I glanced at Victor, standing at the corner next to the closed curtain, and Mia walking by him, towards us. Suddenly she tripped on a cable on the ground, and Victor reached out to grab her before she hit the ground. She blushed, standing up, and he looked at her, still holding her shoulders. And the look in his eyes made time stand still for me. There was deep emotion swimming in those grey pools. It was love. The love he never got to live.

The searing pain in my heart made me remember the pain I felt when my brother accidentally closed the piano lid hard on my fingers, as he tried to convince me to play with him in the greenhouse. I remember going to the hospital in extreme pain, my fingers being taped together, my chance of showing my talent to the famous pianist ruined. Decades after, the thought of my missed chance still made my eyes sting. Missing that show was my unfinished business. Victor’s unfinished business was Mia.

And as I watched the scene unfold before my eyes ever so slowly, it dawned on me. No matter how much I loved him, no matter how much he thought he loved me, there would always be her, perfect, immaculate, because they really never spent the time to find each other’s flaws. She would always be in his mind, flawless, as I stood by his side. He was giving me his heart, but it wasn’t really his to give. It was hers.

The emotions flooded my senses, and I could feel the tears pooling in my eyes as the curtain opened and I was led to the stage with Miss Bates. Miss Bates’ eyes were brimming with tears as well, so my sadness remained unnoticed. By everyone but Victor.

As I got back from the stage, he caught my arm, watching me closely.

“Is something wrong?” He frowned slightly.

“No.” I croaked, not able to stop a tear from falling down my cheek. “Just got a little emotional.”

I should’ve known Victor wasn’t going to believe me. Displeased with my answer, he took my hand and led me to a secluded place backstage, where we could be alone.

“What’s the matter? Tell me.” He held my chin so I would look him in the eye, but I avoided his gaze, unconsciously trying to release myself from his grip. “Why won’t you look at me?” His eyes were focused but his voice betrayed him, showing me how much my evasiveness had hurt.

I kept my eyes down, and another tear fell. Victor let go of me, poker face in place, cold voice in action.

“Would you like to go back to the hotel?” Victor straightened up.

“Yes, if you don’t mind.” I took a deep breath, not wanting to cry anymore and make a scene.

“Wipe your tears before we go.” His voice sounded cold again. Its iciness hit my heart.

The engine running was the only sound heard inside the limo. We sat apart from each other, both staring at our windows, a huge gap and an emotional wall between us.

Once in our hotel bedroom, I started taking my dress off, undoing the button of my halter top. Victor sat on the bed and removed his shoes. He spoke as he undid his tie.

“This is because of Mia.” He confirmed almost in a whisper, letting the tie fall loose on his fingers. “I didn’t know she would be there.”

“I suspected as much.” I said, unzipping my dress, letting it fall on the ground.

“I did nothing wrong.” He said a bit louder, rolling the tie and placing it on the nightstand. “I stood by your side. I held your hand.”

“I know.” I whispered, taking my black satin nightgown from my bag, letting it slide over my naked body.

“Then why do I feel like I’m being punished!?” He raised his voice slightly, unable to contain his frustration.

I sat on the bed, my back to him, tears threatening to flood again. I couldn’t help but let out a nervous sob, as I saw my tears hit the expensive white carpet.

I felt his warm hands on my shoulders, and raised my head to look at him.

“Don’t hide from me.” His eyes were begging. “Talk to me.”

I took a deep breath, trying to convey my feelings in an orderly, comprehensible fashion.

“I saw how you looked at her.” My voice failed me, and I cleared my throat. “When she almost fell. You still love her. You may be with me, and I believe you love me, but you’ll always love her more. Unfinished business takes a huge part of our hearts, Victor, no matter how much we try to walk around it. I may spend my life at your side, loving you, but the truth is, I will never be able to compete with her.”

Victor stared at me with wide eyes, taking in what I just told him. Suddenly he kneeled close to me, his arms wrapped tightly around my waste.

“There is no competition.” His eyes were earnest. “And even if there was, you’d always win. My unfinished business, as you put it, was finished the moment I met you. I will always love you more.”

Another tear escaped from my eye. I remained silent, not knowing what to do with his words.

“If you can’t believe my words...” His face came closer, his lips brushing against mine. “Just let me show you.”

His kiss was more than just a kiss. It entailed all that he felt and failed to explain. He was actively expressing himself with his lips and his hands, holding my body tight. My body melted under his touch, as was usual. But my heart also melted, and any shred of doubt I had easily faded away, as he deepened the kiss.

“Dummy…” He spoke into my lips. “Do you believe me now?”

I wasn’t going to answer him. I wanted more. I always wanted more of him. I took his face in my hands and kissed him again, igniting a fire in both of us. He became hungrier, his hands alive on my body, his fingers covering every inch of skin they could under my nightgown. I felt the soft fabric rise over my body as he took it off, his trained eyes on my naked breasts.

“Take my shirt off.” He almost pleaded in a low voice, dark eyes on mine.

I started unbuttoning his shirt, his breath becoming deeper the further down I went, his yearning more and more visible under the fabric of his pants. He let his grey eyes flutter with pleasure when my hands touched his chest, and his breath hitched when they came down to unbuckle his belt.

He took me like I was his, and like he was mine, like he had no other choice, like his life depended on it. And as the world faded to black and back to color again, as we shook in each other’s arms, I had no doubt in my mind. I truly loved him, and he truly loved me.

#Growing Pains - Series #growingpains #victor x oc #mlqc victor #mlqc li zeyan #mlqc fanfic #mister love queens choice #love and producer

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louisapennyfeather2021 · 4 years

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Newsies/Teen Wolf AU

Title: Riddled

Summary: Race convinces Blink to take him to the hospital to figure out why he's sleep walking to the middle of nowhere and why he isn't in his own mind anymore. Everyone can tell something's wrong, but they can't figure out if it's supernatural or not. Or if they even have a chance at saving Race.

A/N: Hello again! So this scene is from Season 3b, technically episode 18 of Season 3 of the MTV show Teen Wolf. If you can't tell, I'm skipping around a lot and leaving plot holes since this is just random fics and not a series. In this scene, Race is representing one of the main protagonists/ the main antagonist of 3b. What's happening is he's slowly going insane and succumbing to an ancient spirit who thrives on chaos. No one knows this yet, so they think Race is suffering from the same illness that killed his biological mother. I strongly recommend watching the show on Amazon if you get the chance, it's definitely worth a watch!

Warnings: Sad, mentions of death, mentions of mental illness, fear.

***

"They're doing tests on Race all afternoon." Jack has to all but force the words as he walks with Albert through the school towards their last period. Although he knows after Race's disappearance and borderline breakdowns last night renders this necessary, he's still not happy about it. "I was going to go over at around 6:00 to visit. You want to come with me?"

"I should probably just go home." Albert takes a sharp breath, pursuing his lips and gripping the straps of his backpack tighter.

Alright, so maybe the chaotic spaz had grown on Albert. Race was one of the first people in the entire school to actually treat Albert like a human being and not an emotionless brat or a freak. He'd make an imprint on Albert, to say the least.

Albert's brought out of his daze by a locker being harshly, slammed shut. He flinches and sighs heavily once he realizes that he jumped, knowing Jack noticed.

"You sure you're alright?" Jack asks, raising a concerned eyebrow.

Lately, it's like Albert is just a ball of anxiety, including but not limited to being extremely jumpy. Whether it be from the latest death threats surrounding their friends or just the whole concept of being a supernatural creature capable of sensing death, he still hasn't figured it out.

"Yeah, I'll see you later." And with a forced smile, Albert hurries away from Jack and towards his last period. Jack watches his friend hurry off, another weight settling over his shoulders. Albert is good at a lot of things, lying included, but Jack can tell now that Albert is faking being alright. Nothing's alright, it hasn't been since Jack became an alpha.

With Race going completely off the rails and now Albert obviously having something wrong with him, Jack knows whatever "break" from the insanity of the supernatural world he had been given was over.

***

"I'm not sure if I actually know how to pronounce this. Or if it's a misspelling."

"Just call him Race." Blink's stoney expression makes the nurse nod. He hardly flinches when Ms. Medda sighs, shaking her head just a bit.

"Louis, I know you're worried, but don't take it out on the nurse. She's just doing her job." Medda tries to keep her own anxiety over the current matter in check. She's lucky enough to have gotten a break to be with Race during his tests, although she knows it's because she works at the hospital and she's right there if anyone needs her.

"Hey!" Medda and Blink both turn to see Jack in the doorway. "Have they started yet?"

"No, they're still getting ready." Medda offers Jack a warm smile, trying and hoping he'll at least stay calm. "You can go see him real quick, though."

Jack silently nods and slips past Blink and Ms. Medda, the two having already been in to comfort Race.

Jack doesn't say anything as he walks through an open door to a white room with a large machine in the center. Race sits on the machine, his shoulders slouched and his head hanging as he grips the hospital gown in one hand.

"Hey." Jack manages to withhold a gasp when he sees Race's face for the first time since finding him in the woods last night. There are large, purple circles under his eyes that resemble bruises and his eyes are very near to bloodshot. It's obvious he's tired, but there's something else in his expression that sets Jack off. He ignores it though and walks to stand in front of Race. "You okay?"

"You know what they're looking for, right?" Race shakes his head a bit and bites his lower lip before letting out a deep breath. "It's called frontotemporal dementia. Areas of your brain start to shrink. It's what my mother had. It's the only form of dementia that can hit teenagers. And there's no cure."

"Race, listen to me. If you have it, we'll do something. I'll do something." Jack's voice doesn't waiver and he clenches his jaw. He's an alpha now, meaning he can change someone. He could give Race the Bite and he'd be healed. He'd never wish this curse on anyone, but if it saved his best friend's- no, his brother's, life, it was worth it.

Jack nearly breaks as tears well up in Race's eyes and he dies hesitate to step closer and wrap his arms around Race, both of them squeezing each other tight as if they'll disappear if they let go. Jack holds Race for as long as he can, rubbing his upper back and occasionally running a hand through Race's hair to help calm him down. Jack knows how finicky Race can be and it'll only get worse with the noise of the MRI machine.

Jack holds and comforts Race until a doctor comes in to bring him back to the other side of the wall separating him and Race. Jack stands anxiously next to Medda, subconsciously chewing on his thumb nail and bouncing on his toes. Medda keeps calm, years of being a nurse having trained her to do so. Blink paces back and forth along the back wall, a million thoughts running through his head.

Although Jack and Medda heard everything about Race and Blink's parents and had an idea of what happened, Blink still remembers it all vividly. He was a young teenager at the time, so he experienced everything. His mother's breakdowns, her panic attacks because she didn't remember anything, her fear when she'd see Blink and Race and not know why two random children were in her house. Their father would try as hard as possible to help her, but in the end the dementia won. When it took their mother, their father went down with her.

Blink knows they were lucky to have found Medda, but he'd give anything to have his mother back. The woman who knew who he was and who loved him. If he could forget all of the horrible things she said when she didn't recognize him or Race, he would. If he could forget the pain he felt watching her slowly whither away, he would. If he could forget the fear he felt not knowing what would happen to her, he would.

Now that same fear haunts him. He knows it's genetic, he knows very well that him or Race or both of them could develop the same illness that nearly tore the family apart worse than it already was. Now that he has to consider that Race will go through exactly what their mother did? Fear isn't a strong enough word to describe how scared, worried, and utterly helpless Blink feels.

"Alright, Race, this will take about 45 minutes to an hour. Now remember, try not to move. Even just a little bit." The head doctor speaks through a microphone as Race lays down on the bed of the MRI. "You're going to hear that noise now. It's going to be a loud clanging. Kind of like a hammer hitting an anvil."

Race seems to robotically nod and the doctor starts the machine.

As he does, Jack frowns at the ground.

Last night, Spot helped Jack find Race by tracking his chemo-signals. They basically follows the smell of whatever Race was feeling. Spot described the scent as fear and struggle, but said Race had been struggling with himself.

Now, as Jack watches his best friend lay still in the machine, a new thought comes to mind.

"I need to find Spot, I'll be back before his test is done." Jack whispers to Medda. She squeezes his shoulder and nods for him to leave, knowing Blink is too preoccupied with his pacing to notice.

***

"Jack, what are we looking for? Just because I share some family secrets with you, doesn't mean you can drag me out in the middle of nowhere." Spot hesitantly follows Jack through the local preserve, stepping over fallen trees and trying to get an answer out of Jack.

"I think he was trying to protect us." Jack suddenly stops near the place they found Race. Spot raises a confused eyebrow, waiting for an explanation. "I remember when he called me, he was completely freaked. He kept saying someone else was with him, but he wouldn't tell me where. It's like he wanted to, but he couldn't."

"So he was held hostage?" Spot looks around, as if looking for any signs of kidnapping.

"No, I he couldn't because he didn't want us to get involved. I think he was protecting us from himself." Jack sighs, one of the many weights lifting off his shoulders like he just solved the crime. "I don't think he was struggling with himself like you said he was. I think he was struggling not to do something."

"What, do you think Race would really do something violent towards-" Spot stops as Jack's phone starts ringing. Jack frowns in confusion and reaches to answer. He briefly checks the time before seeing it's Medda.

"Shit, Race's tests must be done." Jack quickly answers, guilt settling in his stomach. "Medda, hi, I'm sorry I'm not back yet. I promise-"

"Jack, something's happened." Jack stops talking and meets Spot's gaze, knowing he can hear Medda too.

"What do you mean?" Jack can hear the slight tremor in Medda's voice, but he can also hear Blink yelling and arguing with someone in the background. Jack's heart drops as he registers what Medda says next.

"Race is missing."

***

Hello everyone! This is another drabble of sorts and I know it's confusing if you haven't seen the show because 1) I'm not providing much foundation and 2) There's a lot of plot to each season. To sum it up, basically Race has been possessed by a mischievous, vengeful spirit from Japanese folklore known as the Nogitsune. It's disguising itself as the frontotemporal dementia that was mentioned and it playing games with Race to try and make him go insane. No one knows of any of this yet, but that's the basic plot line of season 3b.

I hope you liked this, if you want to see more please feel free to send me a message or an ask! If you have any scenes you'd like to see, just ask and I'll try my best to make them good!

#newsies memes #newsies imagines #newsies broadway #newsies imagine #newsies #newsies au #teen wolf au

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a-daydreamers-stories · 5 years

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~Hey guys! So I’m doing good with my promise! I’m only going to post a link to part 9 because it’s getting to way too many!~

Part 9

Reader's POV

I woke the next morning and smiled as I heard Happy's snoring in my ear. I bit my lip and tried not to think about how much I had missed that sound. I focused on how sore my body was and pushed Happy away from me.

"Hap, you're hurting me," I mumbled, he really was since he was practically laying on top of me. He blinked down at me before sitting up quickly.

"Sorry..." His voice was low and raspy from sleep.

"It's okay." I moved to lean against the pillow and awkwardly looked away from him. I had so many different emotions running through my body, hurt from Ben, anger at both of them and Tig, lust from being away from Happy so long, happiness that he was still here, and confused about what was going to happen now between us. I wasn't going to risk anything again until he told me how he felt but that was a conversation for after we dealt with Tig and see what the fuck he was playing at.

"How are you feeling?" He asked and I glanced over to see him watching me.

"I'm okay," I tried to smile at him.

"And now that, that bullshit is out of the way, how are you really feeling?" Happy chuckled.

"I'm sore, my head and ribs hurt, and I have a very long list of confusing and conflicting emotions," I admitted.

"Yeah, yesterday was a bit of a shit show." Happy nodded.

"And who's fault was that?" I glared at him.

"Hey, I'm sorry but you're mine." Happy said and I scoffed.

"Shut up and go get me a nurse for some pain meds." I waved at him to go. Happy chuckled and went out to the nurses' station, I let out a shaky breath. God, how did he always have that fucking effect on me? Those two fucking words always made me horny as shit. Happy came back with a doctor instead of a nurse and I looked at him confused as the doctor started looking me over. Happy shrugged and leaned against the doorway as the doctor wrote some things down.

"Everything is stable, you are free to go home. I'll be right back with the discharge papers." The doctor said and hurried out of the room.

"You threaten him?" I asked and Happy smirked. "Surprised he didn't piss himself."

"Almost did yesterday." Happy chuckled.

"You're insane." I laughed.

"You knew that before we started fucking." He pointed out.

"That's true, I am partially to blame." I shook my head. "So I'm going to the clubhouse now?"

"After you sign the papers and get changed. You can either wear some of my clothes which will be looser on you or some of yours that you have there." Happy said.

"You want me to wear your clothes?" I asked.

"You have been for months." Happy raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, but not where everyone can see," I said.

"Babygirl..." Happy started but the doctor came back in with the papers. I signed where I had to and could feel Happy watching me. Once the doctor left, I looked over at him.

"Hap?" I cut him off as he opened his mouth. I really wasn't ready to have that conversation. "Did you actually bring me any clothes to change into?" He closed his mouth quickly and his eyes widened slightly.

"I... um..." Happy said.

"Hap, my other clothes are torn and bloody," I said and he pulled out his phone. He held up a finger before going into the hallway and talking to someone. I laughed a little bit and waited for him to come back in.

"Sack is bringing you some of my clothes and the van." Happy said.

"You brought your bike?" I laughed and he frowned.

"Shut up." He grumbled.

"How were you expecting to take me back to the clubhouse?" I asked, still laughing.

"I didn't think that far ahead." Happy admitted.

"That's very cute." I stopped laughing and smiled at him.

"Shut up." He crossed his arms over his chest. We waited in silence for Sack to get here, Happy looked to be thinking about something and I was fine with us not talking. I still had to figure out everything and I didn't want to discuss anything in this hospital. Sack came running into the room with a bag.

"Hey! Y/N! How ya feeling?" Sack smiled brightly at me as he passed me the bag.

"Seriously?" Happy smacked him upside the head. "How do you think she's feeling?"

"Happy, don't be mean." I scolded him and smiled at Sack. "I'm good, thank you for bringing me clothes."

"No problem!" He rubbed the back of his head but kept the cheery attitude.

"Here." Happy moved over to me and picked me off the bed before grabbing the bag.

"Hap!" I squeaked, my eyes wide.

"You're not going to be able to move well." He replied casually but Sack was staring at us like we had grown a 2nd head each.

"Happy! I don't need your help to walk!" I said.

"Maybe not but you will need it to get dressed." Happy answered and my jaw dropped as he walked us into the bathroom, closing the door behind us.

"What are you doing?" I whispered as he set me on the sink.

"Helping." He answered and set the bag down before reaching around me. He slowly undid the strings and my breath stopped with how close he was. My body felt way too warm and Happy's fingers brush against my skin. He gently pulled the hospital gown off my body and almost completely naked except for my underwear. His eyes scanned over my body and I jumped when he growled.

"Hap?" My voice came out ragged.

"I'm so sorry, baby girl." Happy growled and that left me even more confused until his fingers gently ran over my ribs. I looked down to find my ribcage was bruised in dark ugly marks, I grimaced and looked away from him.

"It's not your fault," I said, tightly.

"No, it's Tig's. I should have been there yesterday and because I wasn't you're hurt." Happy said and I looked back at him. What the hell was this? Has Happy been replaced by an alien?

"Happy, it could have happened if you were there or not," I said and placed my fingers under his chin, I tilted it up to make him look at me. "I'm sore but I'll live..." Happy's eyes glanced down at my lips for a second before he leaned in to kiss me. My hands automatically wrapped around his kutte as I kissed him back. My body craved him and I had been dying slightly these past few weeks without him. His hands moved to cup my face and I winced as he brushed over my bruise. He dropped his hands quickly and pulled back.

"Shit..." He mumbled and I tried to take in deep breaths to calm my racing heart.

"It's... It's okay..." I reassured him, looking down. I was worried if I looked back at him, I would pull him into another kiss. Sack would get suspicious if we were here for much longer.

"Here..." Happy pulled out one of his SAMCRO t-shirts from the bag. He gently pulled it over my head before helping me get my arms through.

"Thank you..." I said quietly as he pulled out reaper sweats. He helped me put them on before gently placing me on the floor, pulling them up the rest of the way.

"Let's go," He said and before I could move, he picked me back up.

"Hap..." I huffed and he chuckled in response. Sack was sitting in the chair and looked up when we came back into the room.

"Um... you guys ready?" He tilted his head as he looked at us.

"Yes." Happy nodded for Sack to go first. Once Sack was in front of us, I raised an eyebrow at Happy. He smirked and winked at me before following him out of the hospital to the van. Sack opened the door and Happy gently placed me in the passenger seat before buckling me up.

"I can do that!" I said trying to grab it from him.

"Too late." Happy chuckled as he buckled me in, Sack got in the driver's seat. "I'll ride behind you guys." Happy told Sack before closing the door and going over to his bike.

"What the fuck was that?" Sack asked once we were alone.

"I... I don't know," I said honestly. Sack shook his head before he started up the van and drove to TM. Sack parked close to the door so I didn't have far to go and Happy pulled into his spot before coming over. He opened my door and I unbuckled before he got the chance to do that. "I can walk you know."

"You keep saying that... does it change anything?" Happy asked.

"No..." I sighed and held my arms out.

Happy's POV

I chuckled at your actions and was about to pick you up again when I spotted Tig coming around from the back of the garage. My jaw clenched and I let out a ragged breath.

"Sack! Take her inside and if her feet touch the ground, I'll knock your teeth out too." I snarled before heading straight for Tig. Tig's looked at me and smiled

"Hey, brother. How's... " His eyes widened and he held up his hands, "Okay... okay, you have your murder face on."

"You have no idea," I growled as I moved to where we only had about a foot between us.

"Hap... Hap I know you realize what I've done but let..." I didn't give him a chance to finish and punched him in the nose. Tig stumbled back and his nose started bleeding.

"You stupid..." I landed another punch. "Son of a bitch!"

"Happy! What the hell!?" Gemma yelled as she can out of the office. I didn't pay any attention, I just kept hitting Tig over and over again. "Jax! Ope!" I felt someone grab me from behind and hold my arms back.

"Hap! Hap!" Opie said from behind me as Jax stood in between Tig and me.

"Woah! What's going on here?" Jax asked as I growled.

"He is the reason everything has been shit the last few weeks!" I yelled, very nearly getting out of Opie's grasp. Jax looked at Opie confused before holding my shoulders back and helping Opie keep me still.

"What did he do?" Opie asked.

"Happy you have to actually talk to us," Jax said sternly.

"What the hell is going on out here?" Clay yelled as he came out of the clubhouse. I looked over to see him, Bobby, and Chibs all coming out. You were still sitting in the van, watching the scene with wide eyes. Sack had paused outside your side of the van and was watching too.

"It's all a big misunderstanding!" Tig said, getting off the ground and holding his hands up. His face was bleeding from multiple places and I still had an urge to hurt him more.

"A misunderstanding!? You ruined everything! For what? To play some sick fucking game?" I snarled and Tig shook in fear.

"It wasn't a game! I just... I was worried that one of you would get hurt. I love you both and I wanted you to be together." Everyone was now looking at us confused.

"Really? So what part of your plan thought that tearing us apart was a good way to get us together?" I glared.

"Look... I thought you would talk! I didn't realize she'd just end it!" Tig stepped back.

"What the fuck are you two talking about?" Bobby asked.

"Look, it's not my place to say," Tig said to the guys who all turned to me. I glanced over at you to find your eyes were wide and your mouth hung open slightly. "And I'm not the only one to blame here."

"What?" My head turned to look at him so fast I almost got whiplash. "What do you mean?"

"Chibby was apart of the tests too!" Tig said and pointed at Chibs who held his hands up.

"Aye, ye were bein' freckin stupid; but I didn't think that stupid shite would try an' throw a fuckin' porn star at'cha." Chibs said defensively and I let out a loud growl at the mention of the porn star.

"Wait this is over the porn star Tig wanted to bang?" Jax asked, even more confused.

"Are you guys fighting over her?" Bobby asked.

"Doesn't matter what the fuck it is. These two want to fight? Fine, throw them in the cage and let them have it out." Clay said and nodded at Opie and Jax to do it. They made Tig go first and Jax stayed in between us as we walked to the fighting ring, Opie still had a hold of my arms.

Tig got into the ring first and Jax turned to look at me. I raised an eyebrow and waited for Opie to let me go. I tried to get away from him but he only held me tighter as Clay stood next to Jax.

"You can't kill him." Clay said.

"I won't," I said.

"I'm going to call Tara but you need to promise not to kill him," Jax said and I growled.

"Fine... I promise not to kill him." I grumbled and Jax moved out of the way, pulling his phone out. Opie finally released his hold on me and Clay stepped out of the way as I made my way into the ring. Removing my shirt and smirking at the scared expression on Tig's face. "Regretting your decision?"

"I've been regretting it, Hap," Tig admitted. "I didn't mean to hurt either of you."

"And that makes everything okay?" I growled, taking a step forward and Tig held his hands up to protect his face.

"No... it doesn't," Tig said and I took my first swing landing a blow to his stomach which was quickly followed by a jab to his face once his hands were down.

"Everything was good until you ruined it!" I snarled and he moved back away from another hit.

"I thought you would talk it out!" Tig yelled as went in for his own punch, I dodged and circled him.

"Can't talk when someone is so pissed they just end everything." I went in for a face hit and he blocked it with his hands. I could tell Tig was getting frustrated, probably with having to defend himself but I didn't expect the hard blow he landed to my gut.

"You could have told her how you felt!" Tig growled and I went to block as he moved to land another hit to my stomach, which had been a trick and Tig suddenly took a swing at my face, actually landing the blow. My head snapped to the side and I felt something warm slide down my chin. Bastard busted my lip open!

"Fuck you!" I snarled and leaped at him, knocking us both to the ground. We both landed blow after blow. At one point Tig had gotten the upper hand and flipped us over, delivering some hard blows. After kicking him off, we both got to our feet.

"Fucking hell! Knock it off" I turned, ready to strike Tig when you grabbed my arm.

"Get out of the ring," I growled, stepping between you and Tig in case he was ready to strike too.

"Will you two pussies fucking stop fighting?" You asked exasperated and that's when I noticed that you were by yourself. Meaning, Sack hadn't fucking helped you inside as I had told him.

"This isn't done," I growled at Tig before I moved to pick you up. You stopped me and pushed me away.

"Yes, it is!" You growled and stepped in between us. "You morons are going to kill each other if you don't stop soon."

"You need to lay down." I tried to talk softly to you, trying to reason.

"Don't talk to me like I'm a fucking child." You snapped at me before turning around and punching Tig square in the nose hard. I smirked as I heard a crunch, knowing you broke his nose. "And you! If you ever pull that shit again. I won't just let Happy beat you to death, I'll castrate you first."

"Baby girl..." I said softly as you held onto your ribs, swaying slightly. That punch must have put some strain on them. I gently picked you up and carried you inside, ignoring the way that everybody's jaw dropped.

"Hap..." You squirmed in my hold and I smacked your ass hard, you squeaked in response.

"You've already hurt yourself enough with that punch, now quit moving." I took you to my dorm and gently set you on the bed. "You need to get some sleep now."

"Hap! Stop, you're hurt." You sat up and pulled on my arm so I was sitting on the bed next to you.

"What?" I asked, I knew Tig landed some decent blows but I wasn't in pain. Though I still had a shit ton of adrenaline running through me.

"You're bleeding..." You said softly and reached your hand up to my forehead. I hissed slightly and you pulled your fingers back, now covered in my blood. "Just sit here for a second."

"What are you doing?" I stopped you from getting off the bed.

"Just stay." You gently removed my arm and went into my bathroom. It took everything in me not to drag your ass back into bed. You came back out with the first aid kit that Gemma put in every bathroom. Instead of sitting on the bed, you stood in front of me and I raised an eyebrow at you.

"I'm fine," I told you with a slight smirk, you ignored me and started to patch me up anyways. I watched you intensely, you were concentrating hard on your task, biting your lower lip as you did.

"Hap..." Your voice came out softly but you didn't look at me, I hummed as an answer. "You know that everyone knows now right?"

"Yes," I said simply.

"And you don't care?" Your eyes finally met mine.

"No." I shook my head and my hand came up to touch yours softly.

"Why?" You pulled your hand back, stepping back and I stood up.

"You really want me to say it?" I asked, moving forward. I only stopped when I had your back pressed against the wall. Your breathing hitched and my fingers lightly trailed over your non-bruised cheek.

"Yes, I really do because if this is going to go any further than I need you to say it. I need you to tell me how you feel, I can't keep guessing. If you need to hear it first then fine... here it is, you annoy the shit out of me, you piss me off and make me want to rip my hair out. You are the most infuriating piece of shit jackass that I have ever met and fuck it all because I'm in love with you." You said and I blinked in shock. "I have spent every moment of the past 3 weeks trying to forget about you and you know what? It didn't work. Now man the fuck up and tell me how you feel, pussy."

"Fuck you." I rolled my eyes.

"Close but not quite." You smiled. "Go on."

"Fine! I fucking love you too!" I growled before claiming your lips with my own.

~Tag list~

@dolphingoddess81

@ilikechocolatemilkh

@sam-samcro

@dmagicreality

@kacilove26

@leaalfred

@slytherinqueen394

@jadert15

@simam12

@sweet--catrastrophe

#happy #happy soa #happy lowman #happy imagine #happy lowman imagine #imagine #imagines #sons of anarchy imagine #sons of anarchy #soa #soa happy #soa imagine

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colonelpurplepotatoes · 5 years

Text

The Ritual - Chapter Two

Tony gets called in to S.H.I.E.L.D medical to talk, not about Steve's injuries caused by the building collapse, but something much more less serious, and yet much, much worse.

Remember to check the tags before you read.

When S.H.I.E.L.D medical called Tony into the clinic to speak to him in private, Tony couldn't understand why. Cap was going to be fine, they all knew that. Maybe not any more intelligent, considering he couldn't even get out of the way of an entire building coming down, but fine. The serum, blah blah, healing factor, blah. Fine, right?

"So what's the story?" Tony asked lightly as Dr Archbold ushered him into her office.

After Tony dropped into one of the seats across from her desk, there was a long moment. A long moment. Dr Archbold made no sound as she sat down. Tony watched her fold her fingers together, then shifted his gaze to the tight lines between her shaped eyebrows.

"What's the story?" Tony asked again, all levity gone this time.

"I've asked you here because Mr Rogers has you listed as his next of kin."

Tony could literally feel his eyes pop from their sockets. "Excuse me?"

Dr Archbold pursed her lips and nodded. "It's true. I wasn't sure if you were aware or not."

"I was absolutely not aware."

Tony's brain cells were still processing the information, his mind whirling like a digital hamster stuck inside a software loading wheel. Steve Rogers, the man who barely spoke to him and seemed to view him as an irresponsible asshole, had him listed as his next of kin? Why?

Tony nearly blurted the question out loud, but there was no point. How could the good doctor know, considering before this incident she'd never even met Steve?

"Well, whether you were aware or not, I'm duty-bound to pass this information on to you."

The hamster in Tony's brain went into hyperdrive at that. There was no possible outcome where this conversation would be a good thing. Doctors didn't feel duty-bound to pass on information such as, 'Your next of kin has a beautiful face,' or, 'Your next of kin has an amazing, peachy ass.' Both of these statements were entirely true of Steve, and both were a million miles away from the actual words that came out of Dr Archbold's mouth.

"We've found injuries on Mr Rogers' body that we believe are self-inflicted."

Tony's brain hamster died right then. Or if not died, phased into a new level of reality, passed through a subspace barrier and hi-ho silvered off into a new dimension.

"Excuse me, what?"

Dr Archbold nodded. "That's what we believe."

"C'mon, doc," Tony said, spreading his hands wide, because she couldn't possibly be serious, "a whole Midtown building came down on Rogers' head. Surely that's the reason for any of his injuries?"

There was, Tony knew, no possible, rational explanation for why national icon, national treasure Captain America would ever harm himself. Did not compute. Nope. Couldn't be true.

"Mr Stark," Dr Archbold continued, her tone that soft-yet-firm medical expert one Tony hated when it was directed at himself. "There are a number of perfectly straight, perfectly spaced incisions to the inside of Mr Rogers' thigh, in various states of healing. One of them was so fresh earlier today that his uniform pantleg was stuck to it, indicating--we believe--that the most recent injury was done only a handful of hours before, as you say, an entire Midtown building came down on Mr Rogers' head." The doctor sighed, shaking her head. "If I had any doubt, I wouldn't be speaking to you right now. But we have a duty of care to Mr Rogers. We can't let this go. As his next of kin, its important that you know."

Tony ground his teeth, then let a controlled breath ghost between his lips. What. The actual.

"Thank you for telling me."

Though those were his words, they weren't what he meant. What Tony really meant was, 'I don't want this information. I don't know what to do with it. I also don't want to think about the fact that Steve, who is such an asshole, might actually not be an asshole, and maybe he's accidently pulling a Tony and shoving people away to protect himself.'

Tony didn't want the information. The hamster didn't want the information. Yet there it was, and that asshole Steve had made him his next of kin, meaning this was now, in part, Tony's problem.

"Asshole," he whispered.

"Excuse me?" Dr Archbold asked, one sculpted brow lifting.

"Nothing, nothing," Tony said, waving her off. "Just. Hamsters. Or something." Tony wrenched his thoughts back in order, clapping his hands on his knees as if to indicate he was in control, though he felt far from it. "What do we do from here?"

"We'll be following this up as a matter of patient safety," Dr Archbold said, "but it's not our area or speciality. It'll have to go to psych--"

"Let me handle it." The words were out of Tony's mouth before he knew what he was saying. As Dr Archbold's perfect eyebrow neared her hairline, he held up his hands. "Not me me, but let me handle it. I know some excellent therapists. And psychiatrists. They can liaise with S.H.I.E.L.D, keep you in the loop. But let me organise his care." A smile tugged one side of his lips. "I am his next of kin, after all."

To her credit, Dr Archbold didn't immediately dismiss the idea out of hand, which she probably should have after that ridiculous line.

Instead, the good doctor gave a slow nod. "Alright. As long as Mr Rogers agrees."

"Absolutely."

The meeting ended and Tony went on his way. Or at least, he went to go on his way. Instead he ended up walking deeper into the medical facility, opening the door marked 'ROGERS,' and standing at the foot of Steve's bed.

He looked...well, like someone who'd had a building fall on his head. But someone who'd had a building fall on his head a week ago, not just a handful of hours before. Steve's face, that beautiful face, was marred and marked and purpling, and the deep gashes, which had bled so profusely when Tony had pulled Captain Stupid from the rubble, looked half-healed. But unlike a mere mortal after a catastrophic event, Steve wasn't covered in bandages and stitched together like a well-loved rag doll. The most mortal thing about the whole scene was the IV running into Steve's arm, and the fact he was wearing a hospital gown, not his uniform.

Tony's mind hamster jerked back to this reality. Of course. That was how the doctors had found the injuries on Steve's leg. They'd had to peel off his ruined uniform, and there they were for all to see, injuries no doubt placed just where Steve had placed them for the very reason that no one would see them.

Never before had Tony wanted so hard to smack and hug someone at the same time.

"Steve, Steve, Steve," he whispered, shoving his hands into the pockets of his slacks. "Why in the name of all that's holy didn't you tell me about this?"

Tony's first answer was, why would he? They barely even spoke civil words outside of Avengering. Yet, why wouldn't he? If Steve was willing to put him down as next of kin, why wasn't he willing to let Tony be his next of kin?

Probably because that was an insane leap to make. Putting someone's name on a form was hugely different from actually putting your problems in their hands. Tony sighed and kicked the scuffed wheels of the hospital bed.

"Asshole," he said again.

Steve, unlike Dr Archbold, didn't raise an eyebrow in reply. He didn't do anything other than stay silent in the bed, looking hurt in ways beyond his physical injuries. Tony flopped into the chair beside him and shadowed his face with his hands.

#stony #stony fanfic #stony fic #steve rogers #tony stark #tw: self-harm #anxiety #self esteem issues #self harm as a bad coping strategy #unrequited love

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vernonfielding · 5 years

Text

Life Writes Its Own Stories

Chapter 15 (of 16!). (Also on AO3.)

Amy squinted into the glittery sunlight that filtered through the trees across the street from where they sat. She could have lifted a hand and shielded her eyes, or turned her body away from the glare, but she was so comfortable for the moment and she didn’t want to move. She blinked lazily instead, letting her eyes water and her vision go slightly blurry.

Jake’s good arm was thrown over her shoulder and he’d pulled her close to his side, almost possessively. His thumb drew distracted circles on her upper arm, and the slow rise and fall of his chest was soothing, even if he hadn’t been the one to stop breathing. She was aware of Jake talking to Commissioner Wuntch, could feel the rumble of his voice from where she was pressed against him, and the journalist in her thought she should be paying attention to what they were saying, but the kidnap-slash-overdose victim really didn’t give a shit.

Waking up after the overdose had been bizarre and confusing but not painful, and there were surprisingly few side effects from either the Jazzy Pants or the Narcan. The narcotic effect had been instantly gone, replaced by a vague sort of panic, like something was wrong but she couldn’t bring herself to care. The paramedics had made her lie on the floor of the penthouse, breathing flat-tasting oxygen through a mask, until they felt confident that she wasn’t going to need another shot of the overdose antidote. Only then had they let her sit up, then stand, and finally walk out of the building with Jake.

She wasn’t sure how long they’d been outside now. Someone had led them to a bus-stop bench – Amy had distantly wondered if a bus driver might mistake them for actual riders – and blankets had been draped over their shoulders, because Jake was only wearing a T-shirt and Amy had forgotten her jacket at work and it was December, after all. When Amy had started shaking, from cold or emotion or both, Jake had reached for her without a word, pulling his blanket over both of them and tucking her head under his chin.

Now, she just wanted to stay right here on this bench, with Jake, forever. Or until she had to pee or something.

“Santiago!”

Amy looked up at the familiar voice, and saw Terry waving madly from across the street. He said something to a cop manning the perimeter that had been set up around the penthouse building, and to Amy’s surprise the cop lifted the yellow tape and let Terry duck under it. Amy felt a jolt of annoyance – cops never let reporters beyond the yellow tape at a crime scene. Or they never let her, anyway.

Terry jogged up to their bench, and right away her irritation was replaced by a flood of affection from the way he was looking at her, his brows turned down in concern. He crouched in front of her and peered into her face, and rested one large hand on her knee.

“How’re you doing?” he said, all gentle warmth. Amy’s eyes immediately filled with tears. “Hey, don’t do that, it’s okay.”

“I know,” Amy said, sniffling and trying desperately to keep herself together. Jake had stopped talking to Wuntch, who was yelling at someone in the distance, and he squeezed Amy’s shoulder. “I’m fine,” she said, to both of them. “I really am.”

Terry smiled kindly at her, then looked up at Jake and beamed. “Peralta! How are you doing, man?”

“Okay for being kidnapped and stabbed, Sarge.”

“Wait-” Amy sat up straight and looked between the two of them. “No. You two do not know each other too.”

“Sergeant Jeffords was one of my instructors in the academy,” Jake said.

“Oh no no no,” Amy said. “That is impossible. Terry’s a journalist. He’s a newspaper editor.”

“Oh! This is your editor Terry?” Jake’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Wow, I had no idea you ended up at the Bulletin.”

Amy was shaking her head slowly, her exhausted brain struggling to keep up. She said, “How did that even happen?”

“After my girls were born, there was an incident-” Terry paused, and Amy got the sense he was trying to figure out how to shorten a long, or possibly embarrassing, story. “Basically, I was too scared to do field work anymore. I tried riding the desk but it was too depressing, so I left and got into journalism instead. Terry always did love newspapers.”

“This is insane.” Amy pulled away from Jake a bit, just enough to look him in the face. “Do you literally know everyone I work with?”

Jake shook his head. “Just Gina, Charles and I guess Terry. That’s gotta be it.”

Amy spotted Holt just then, crossing the street. She looked quickly between the two of them as Holt approached, holding her breath until they were face to face. Their eyes met, and they seemed to appraise one another, and then Holt said, “Raymond Holt, editor in chief of the Bulletin. You must be Amy’s detective-friend.” And Amy let out all her breath at once.

“Holt!” Rosa appeared just beyond his shoulder. “I wasn’t expecting you here.”

“Wait, Rosa knows Holt?” Amy said to Jake.

“No, she called him last night, when she was looking for us,” Jake said.

“Yeah, and also, I’m dating his niece,” Rosa said.

Jake frowned and stared between them, and Amy was glad that apparently she wasn’t the only one feeling a little sideswiped. “Wait, so-”

“Rosa’s friend Melanie is my sister’s daughter,” Holt said. “An amusing sidenote: Rosa also dated my nephew, Marcus.”

Amy gave up then and sank into Jake’s chest, and he folded the blankets securely around her. She could feel the laughter in his chest as she smiled and closed her eyes. What a strange little family she suddenly had.

+++

Their friends dispersed once the paramedics returned from treating the more seriously injured – the Vulture and Mr. Tall, Amy thought to herself, with a slightly manic chuckle – to transport Amy and Jake to the hospital. Wuntch approached them too, Scully at her heels; he was eating chicken wings out of a bucket, which he was sharing with Hitchcock. Amy watched them dully for a moment before blinking and deciding she might still be high after all.

She looked back at the commissioner instead.

“You did good work, Peralta,” Wuntch said, arms crossed over her chest. “I knew I was right to leave you and Diaz in the Nine-Nine.”

Jake stared blankly at her, and then his eyes widened, almost comically. “Oh my god, it was you. You kept rejecting our transfer requests.”

“Someone had to keep an eye on that jerkwad.” Wuntch nodded at Amy. “Thank you for your help, Ms. Santiago. You’re not a nightmare of a person, for a journalist.”

“You’re welcome?” Amy said, but Wuntch was already stomping away.

The paramedics took them to the hospital in one ambulance, but they were separated as soon as they got to the emergency room. It happened so fast that Amy didn’t realize Jake had been taken away until she turned to ask him if she’d be getting her phone back eventually, and he was gone. Amy paused mid-step, blinking at the spot where she’d expected him to be, until the nurse escorting her to an exam room took her gently by the elbow to lead her on.

She was hooked up to a machine to monitor the oxygen in her blood and her heart rate and blood pressure – it was just a precaution, the nurse assured her – and then told to rest. She fell asleep so fast she didn’t remember the nurse leaving the room.

When she woke up, Charles was standing so close to her bed that she yelped and batted him away, which caused the oxygen clip to fly off her finger, which in turn caused an alarm to go off and a new nurse to come storming in, and it was so chaotic that Amy’s heart rate shot up and set off a different alarm. The nurse offered Amy a sedative to calm her down, but she definitely did not want any more drugs so she said no and worked on breathing deeply in between glaring at Charles.

“I’m sorry,” he said, when the nurse had finally decided Amy wasn’t about to have a heart attack and left them alone. “But Gina wanted me to check if you were awake yet.”

“Gina?” Amy said, vaguely.

“Yeah, she needs a quote.” Amy stared at him some more. “For her story. On the whole Vulture drug ring thing. And, you know, the kidnapping and-” He trailed off, and awkwardly turned his cell phone over in his hands.

“She wants a quote. From me,” Amy said. Charles nodded. “What time is it?”

Charles turned the phone up in his palm and checked the time. “About 15 minutes to deadline.”

“Wait, what? How long have I been asleep?”

“Almost six hours,” Charles said.

Amy flopped back in the bed and stared up at the ceiling. After a moment of Charles twitching in her peripheral vision she held out a hand to him. “Call Gina and give me your phone.”

+++

Not long after she talked to Gina – who told her her quotes were boring, and Amy didn’t disagree but also was too tired and foggy to care – a doctor came by and said she could go home. Charles announced that Jake had instructed him to look out for Amy and make sure she got to her apartment safely, and to stay with her overnight if she felt like she needed company. (Amy thought that Jake probably hadn’t counted on Charles telling her all of that.) She told Charles she’d be fine on her own, but she’d be happy for the ride.

First, though, she wanted to see Jake.

It was getting close to 7 by the time she left the ER and headed into the main hospital, where Jake had been admitted for the night. A uniformed cop stood across from his room on the second floor, and it was after visiting hours, so it looked like Amy wasn’t going to be allowed in. She was just gearing up for a tantrum or a panic attack – she hadn’t committed to either – when Rosa appeared with a cup of coffee in hand and told the cop that Amy would just need a few minutes. Either because Rosa was in charge or just scary, the uniform didn’t argue.

The lights were dim, and Jake’s face was mostly in shadow. He was out cold, and even in the darkness she could tell that he was still too pale, and his eyes were bruised with exhaustion. He’d changed into a hospital gown and his right arm was bound securely to his chest; he had an IV in his left forearm, but it wasn’t attached to anything at the moment.

She carefully picked up his hand and rubbed her thumb over his knuckles, then bent over and kissed him on the forehead, just above his eye. His eyelids fluttered and she was afraid, and also hopeful, that he was going to wake up, but he slept on. She stood and watched him for a while, until Rosa came in to tell her it was time to go home.

+++

Amy slept hard that night and woke at dawn. Charles was passed out on her couch when she shuffled into the kitchen; she’d conceded to him staying after she’d seen the police car parked across from her building and remembered there was still one more kidnapper on the loose. On her coffee table was a note in his familiar copy-editor print, instructing Amy to come to the 82nd precinct first thing in the morning to talk to the detectives handling the Pembroke case.

She tried calling Jake at the hospital before she left, but the phone in his room just rang and rang.

Amy figured the Eight-Two was handling the case because the Nine-Nine obviously couldn’t be trusted to investigate its own captain – so she was pleasantly surprised to find Rosa at the precinct when she showed up at 9. When she asked Rosa about it, Rosa just said, “Jake’s my partner,” and led her to a meeting room.

The interview itself was exhaustive and exhausting, and when Amy finally was set free at noon, she was tempted to go home and sleep again. She asked Rosa if Jake was coming in to be interviewed later in the week, and Rosa said he was scheduled for that afternoon.

“So he’s been released from the hospital?” Amy said.

“Yeah. This morning.”

He could have called, Amy thought. But then, she didn’t have her cell phone – the detectives on the case said they were keeping it for evidence. Maybe he already had called. Maybe he was wondering where she was too.

After that, she decided to go into work. She didn’t need to be alone.

+++

“Santiago! What are you doing here – go home!”

Terry’s yell cut through the din of the newsroom as Amy walked toward her desk. She gave him a little wave and sat down across from Gina, who leaned forward and said, in a conspiratorial whisper, “You’re such a nerd.”

“What? Gina, I literally shot a drug dealer in the kneecap yesterday and was given a nearly fatal overdose of a brand-new street drug – that is not nerd behavior.”

“Yeah, that’s pretty dope, but your FOMOW is not.”

“I do not have FOMOW,” Amy said. “What is FOMOW?”

“Whatever you say, nerd.” Gina sat back in her chair and clicked her pen. “Now c’mon, I’m writing the follow-up story today and you’ve got to give me all the deets.”

So Amy spent another hour describing the events of the day before. The detectives at the Eight-Two had asked her not to talk to any reporters, to which Rosa had actually laughed out loud, and Amy had made them no promises. She told Gina almost everything now, except for two or three details that the cops had insisted be kept out of the press, at least until they were further along in their investigation.

After she talked to Gina, Amy called Jake at home again (still no answer) then gave a couple of brief phone interviews to the Bulletin’s competitors – there was something deeply satisfying about telling the New York Times reporter that she had no further comment five minutes into their conversation – and scheduled another appearance on The Brian Lehrer Show for the next day. Her inbox was flooded by the time she found a minute to check her emails, and she clicked out of it after doing a quick search to see if Jake had sent anything.

Charles took her out for a late lunch – everyone else was on deadline, mostly writing about the Vulture takedown – and when they got back to the newsroom, Holt called for her to come to his office. Amy couldn’t resist calling Jake first; she hung up after three rings.

“Close the door,” Holt said, when Amy entered his office. Her gut did a slow roll. He only closed the door for very serious conversations.

When Amy was seated in front of his desk, he asked how she was doing, and Amy said she was tired but otherwise fine. “I’m still trying to wrap my head around everything that happened,” she said, feeling somewhat shy.

“That’s understandable,” Holt said. He studied her for a moment. “You realize I have to take you off of the police beat now.”

Amy sighed, but strangely, his words actually eased some of her tension. She was disappointed, but she’d expected this, after all. “I do, sir.”

“Santiago.” Holt folded his hands on his desk, and his face softened gradually until he looked almost affectionate. “Amy. This reassignment is not a reflection on your work. You are a most promising reporter. Your attention to detail, your persistence, and your eye for a good story are all remarkable. But what makes you stand out is your commitment to telling the full story – to exploring the gray area between the black and white.”

Amy could feel herself blushing from her forehead to her toes. She was dizzy with pride, her head buzzing from it.

“Thank you, sir. That means-“ She paused and took a deep breath. “It means everything.”

Holt nodded sagely. Then he smiled a bit and said, “Not that it’s any of my business, but I think that is why you and this detective make a good team.”

“How so?” Amy truly had no idea what he was talking about – she wasn’t even sure if she and Jake were a team anymore, romantic or otherwise. Just because they had comforted one another through a terrible ordeal didn’t mean they were together, or back together, or whatever.

“Your pursuit of the truth, and your faith that you’ll get there,” Holt said. “I don’t know your friend Detective Peralta personally, of course. But that he risked his life and his career to take down his own captain shows impressive strength of character.”

“Well, in fairness, Jake really hated Pembroke,” Amy said with a smirk.

“As well he should have.”

But Amy understood what Holt was saying, and she didn’t disagree. She supposed that she and Jake did share more than one or two key values – values that defined them, even, and that they sought and cherished in one another.

She was repeating his words over in her mind (and still basking in his praise) when Holt began tapping a pencil on his desk, snapping her out of a haze.

“Though it’s unfortunate that you got caught up in this whole drug ring boondoggle, I have to admit, it’s given us quite the advantage on this story,” Holt said, as though he were thinking out loud. “Even Wuntch has been grudgingly giving us information. And she’s basically just a skin-suit stuffed with gremlins.”

Amy stared at him, completely at a loss at how to respond to any of that. Finally she said, somewhat faintly, “You know Commissioner Wuntch?”

“She was a source of mine back when I was a reporter,” he said. “Things didn’t end as well for us as they did for you and Detective Peralta.”

Amy nodded vaguely. “I see.”

“Dismissed, Santiago.”

+++

Unfortunately, even Holt’s accolades withered under Amy’s growing anxiety over Jake. As the afternoon faded to evening, she tried to keep herself busy and distracted. She went through all of her emails, and she read every word of news coverage she could find on the Vulture situation. (The Bulletin’s coverage was the best, by a longshot.) She made a list of potential follow-up stories, most of which she wouldn’t be able to do because she was too close to it all.

At the same time, she lost count of the calls to Jake’s home and the many messages left for him at work – at the Nine-Nine and the Eight-Two. She called Rosa enough times that she started sending Amy straight to voicemail. Jake’s cell phone voicemail was full by mid-afternoon, but she kept calling anyway. She sent him multiple emails, and even stole Charles’ phone to send a few texts.

She was trying not to think worst-case scenarios. But it had been a full day since she’d seen him, longer than that since they spoke. It was hard not to worry when she felt like she was crawling out of her skin with the need to hear from him (and see him and touch him, smell him even) and yet, he hadn’t reached out to her. Her desk phone had been ringing all afternoon, and in fairness, she hadn’t been able to pick up every time, but not once was it Jake’s voice on the other end. The rise and fall of hope each time she answered was making her physically ill.

By 7:30 it was starting to hit her that she was going to have to endure this stress at home, alone, when the new copy desk intern approached her desk, his face flushed and splotchy like he was incredibly nervous. She wanted to take pity on him but she couldn’t call up the energy, so she just looked up at him expectantly.

“Amy Santiago?” His voice cracked – on both names.

“That’s me,” Amy said with a sigh.

“Uh, hi.” Beads of sweat were pearling on the poor kid’s forehead. “I’m such a huge fan, your story on the jail recordings was awesome, and I just know you’re going to write something amazing about, you know, this drug stuff.”

“Well- thanks,” Amy said, genuinely touched.

“Anyway, I- I took down this message for you earlier, and then I forgot-” He held out a slip of paper torn from a reporter’s notebook, and Amy snatched it from his hand so quickly he jumped.

“A message? From today? Why are you just giving it to me now?” But Amy ignored his reply and read the note.

It said, “Meet at the park. 7 p.m.”

Amy grabbed her jacket and her purse and raced for the door. She heard the intern calling after her and thought she should have at least asked his name. But then again he’d sat on a message from Jake for who knew how long, so the kid was basically dead to her.

She ran outside and practically jumped in front of the first cab she saw, planting her hands on the hood and then pulling open the passenger door before even checking to see if it was available.

“The park!” Amy called through the glass partition. When the driver just raised an eyebrow at her in the rearview mirror she nearly growled. “Fort Greene. By the way, I shot a man yesterday. Make it fast.”

CHAPTER 16

#b99 fic #peraltiago #jake and amy au #newspaper au #life writes its own stories

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coughupmoney · 5 years

Text

Dead On Arrival

Awakening to a sharp pain in your chest is scary, but also it’s really really funny. It was funny even at the time. I had started my first antidepressant about a month before this incident; Viibryd. I hate to say that I love doing drugs but I love doing drugs.

When I was diagnosed with depression, Viibryd had just hit the antidepressant scene, a new drug that would dramatically decrease the latency period before the antidepressant would take effect. The day I was prescribed, I was told the effects would be immediate. As soon as I took the drug, I didn’t even feel happy--I felt balanced. It wasn’t an “upper”: a perky, pleasure pill. It was a secret ingredient that provided my brain with some homeostasis. As immediate as the effects were, so were the adverse effects; but that is the trial by fire you face when you relinquish yourself to the world of pharmaceuticals.

The stability I was finally feeling was wonderful, but was it worth the cost of waking up everyday at four in the morning with a searing pain in your chest? I’ll tell you two truths: one, that this deliciously, delectable drug exacerbated my anxiety and two, I secretly enjoyed waking up everyday at four A.M because it was something I could count on. I’ve always been comforted by stability even if it came in the form of torment. All I craved was some structure. However, the pain started to worry me.

At the time I hadn’t recognized that this searing pain was an anxiety attack. That diagnosis came later, in the hospital. Day after day, I awoke in pain, my hypochondria sighing in sorrow. For the sear, for the burn, for the meeting of tomorrow. Every attack was greeted with overwhelming fear. Fear that I was dying. That I was having a heart attack. I went to sleep thinking that every night would be my last. Eventually, after I had let this fear build up in my chest, the fear overwhelmed me. So naturally, I turned it loose on my parents. I allowed my screams and cries to fall upon their sleeping ears. I desperately knocked on their bedroom door.

I hear muffled voices and footsteps creaking on the hardwood floor. “What’s wrong?” Father answers through a crack of the door. I’m not sure how to explain the pain that I’m in.

“My chest hurts.” I say, with efforts of sincerity. My fear is that my plea will be disregarded. Luckily, I was first held at the will of my overbearing Father.

For him, my plea was an immediate call to action. “Do you want to go to a hospital?” He responded. “I think I have to.” I said. Here’s where the water works start. How pathetic. I mean at this point, couldn’t you have just quietly driven yourself to the ER? Here we go, become a burden on all those forced to love you.

Father and I were panicked, quickly collecting ourselves and carrying our urgent vessels into the vehicle. Mother, on the other hand, was at ease. What a fucking bitch. She slowly made her way out of bed and into the shower. While she soaked herself in relaxing hot water, I waited in the car clutching my chest. Like, way to make me feel like shit, I’m sitting in this musky-ass car possibly having a heart attack and here you are taking your sweet time probably awaiting my possible death. She took her time, drying her hair, putting her face on, and adorning herself in a beautiful outfit. I was clearly no cause for her concern. Not like I’ve ever been...are you kidding? She finally made her way out of the house and into the passenger side of the car. Fuckin’ bitch. As soon as her door shut, Father hit the road and said nothing. How could he just sit there and say nothing to her while she treats me like nothing?

The closest hospital was only 10 minutes away. The ride halted at a red stop light. We sat in silence for a few minutes. I would assume if anyone gave a fuck about me they would have flown through that stupid stop light to get me some proper medical care. On the outside I was cold, stern, and stoic. WHY HE WASN’T RUNNING THE FUCKING RED LIGHT? It was five in morning, there was no other car in sight. The silence was broken by my Father who needed my Mother’s permission to run the light. Of course she made us wait. For a moment I couldn’t believe it. Until I could. It made so much sense. No ticket was worth the potential danger my life was in to this woman.

When I had finally realized that, I laughed my fucking head off. In the car, my explosion of laughter was grounds for mental insanity. My Mother questioned the validity of my pain-of course-but I just couldn’t stop laughing even as I clutched onto my chest. The pain had not subsided, even when the light turned green, even when we had made our way into the emergency room. The pain remained, but the irony was not lost on me. It was truly funny to me. This was the first time I had the full realization that I meant nothing to her. I meant absolutely nothing. I had also seen my Father for the coward his is. I realized that there was no one that could protect me from this environment and at that point all I could do was laugh. My laughter was rooted in disbelief, even though I had an entire lifetime of evidence that convinced me that this experience was completely plausible. I found this cognitive dissonance hilarious.

I guess with some introspection I realized that the alternative reactions wouldn’t have served me well. This is difficult to describe to people. Like, how am I going to tell you that depression and anxiety has been the worst challenge of my life? That it has given me insurmountable pain, and yet it has saved my life on multiple occasions? I revere mental illness as the miracle reaper of life. It has challenged every molecule of my being to give into death, yet has allowed me to navigate traumatic situations with ease because, of course, with anxiety, I expected all this to happen anyway.

The rest of the trip wasn’t as eventful. The first course of action included attaching stickers onto my chest to monitor my heart’s rhythms. I remember two things about this scene; I had to take off my shirt, and I was afraid. What does it say about me that I was more concerned with the fact that I would be taking me shirt off rather than being concerned with the probable cause of my lurid chest pain? The technician was sweet. Tasty even, his skin looked soft and I wanted to touch it. From what I remember, I had made it clear to him that I was uncomfortable. I fear that I secretly wanted his pity. I realized that this would be the first time I was going to take my shirt off in front of a man. Honestly, it was hard to not be a little turned on. I had spent about two years trying to avoid this moment and here my life was depending on it. I took off the white cotton sweatshirt I had fallen asleep in. Sexy right? I laid myself down on the thin, noisy paper availed upon the hospital bed bust. Pieces of my skin stuck to the leather peeking from beneath the tissue.

I knew this was standard procedure, I knew he did this everyday to all sorts of people. It still felt intimate for me. He and I made eye contact while he slowly stuck cold plastic stickers all over my chest. It made me embarrassed. I was a little wet. I was self conscience about my body. He assured me that I was doing great. The technician had no idea that I was slightly turned on and that’s okay with me. But honestly I thought we had a connection. He turned to me and showed me my heart monitor. The technician said that my results were normal. Normal heart rate, regular rhythm and if I remember correctly, he said I had a beautiful heart rhythm. What did I tell you? He loved me.

After we had ruled out that I was in fact not having a heart attack, we moved on to see if there was any damage to my upper body organs. I walked with another technician to get a chest x-ray. For this I had to change into a fabulous white hospital gown that showed off the spine line that led to my glorious plush pyjama pants. This technician was different. He was more personable. He left the room while I changed and when he stepped back in, he lifted my chart from the box above the door. I studied his face as he read my chart. I was looking for hints and tone. How was he going to address me? When he finally looked up at me, he smiled and asked, “How are you liking Viibryd?”

I was surprised but I responded slyly, “It’s pretty immediate actually, I’ve heard that other antidepressants can take up to six months to take effect.” When two people with mental illnesses get into a room together, there's an immediate sense of comradery. As long as someone is brave enough to out themselves first, the bond of emotional strife, taking drugs, and going to therapy is pretty immediate.

“I’ve been taking Zoloft for a while now”, he added.

“How long have you been depressed?” I asked. I was really hoping he’d say “Not very long! It was a temporary thing for me.” That was not the answer I received, of course.

He told me he had been depressed his entire life. That’s it. That’s always it. No one ever just does a stint with depression, it’s always a life sentence. A struggle that starts but never ends. At least, not until you end. He went on to tell met that it’s been an ongoing struggle for him and that he’s only recently been properly medicated. This is another thing that bothers me. Anytime you talk to someone struggling with depression They suffer for so long before they seek treatment. I am curious to know whether this is a folly on culture and institution or just a hazard of the illness.

He interrupted my thought, he had to ask me some health related questions before we did the chest x-ray. The technician jotted down some quick information about my age and medications I was taking. He also shyly asked if there was any way I could be pregnant. I said, “There’s no possible way.”

He responded “You’re not practicing huh?” I quickly wanted to change the subject but instead replied with a stern “no”. I don’t know why I was embarrassed to be a virgin. Maybe I was just embarrassed, about being a virgin and about my body. Two singularities existing in the multiplex of life. Whatever. He lead me to the machine. He placed a heavy lead cover on my chest. I knew this was to protect me from ray scatter.

“Just like the dentist” I joked. He told me that he was going to step into the small boxy closet in the corner of the room to take a few pictures. I stood still. I never thought anything could be wrong with my chest organs, yet my hypochondria sense was tingling. He left to take the pictures. It was painless. When he came back, I wanted to probe him with questions. “So is my chest okay?” My organs? My lungs? Was I slowly but surely dying? Was this the end of life as I knew it?

He spoke casually, “Only the doctor can really tell you that, I only take pictures.”

“That doesn’t help me.” I said.

He turned to me, not as a technician but as a person, and said, “I really think you’re fine.” I smiled and nodded. That is honestly all I’ve ever wanted anyone to say.

He walked me back to a regular hospital room to wait to speak with the doctor. I sat on the bed while both my parents sat in chairs in the corner of the room looking at their phones. Eventually, Father looked up at me, the gleam of screen still in his eyes, and asked how it went. I replied “It was fine”, so that he could get back to his phone.

Soon after, the ER Doctor knocked on the door and walked in. She looked at me hopefully. I feel like a sigh, like deflated air. She was carrying my chart, she flipped a few pages and said that my heart and lungs looked perfectly healthy. She deduced that my chest pain was an adverse effect of my new antidepressant and should subside over time. Of course at this point, Mother chimed in to say “I told you, antidepressants are bad for you.”

The ER Doctor responded, “Actually these symptoms are common while the body acclimates to the new drug.”

I’m not sure if Mother listened to one word that came out of the doctor’s mouth, she only replied, “I just believe that they’re bad.”

The doctor wasn’t sure how to respond. She told me that she was going to give me some Klonopin and beta blockers to subdue the anxiety. I took them both before we left. Within 30 minutes, my chest pain subsided. I felt lightheaded in the best way possible. We walked out of the ER and I listened to my parents talk as I slid back into the car. The only thing Mother had to say to Father about the experience was, “I can’t wait to see how much that bill will be, she shouldn’t even take antidepressants.” And maybe I would’ve cared, if I wasn’t so fucking high.

#short story #depression #humor #spilled ink

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sublimeperfectionland · 6 years

Text

New Moon of the Dark Kingdom Chapter Hundred and Thirty Six- C’est La Vie for Vendetta

Zoisite and Kunzite have found true love, but when some old friends, a vengeful god, and a pair of evil twins are gunning for the Shitennou all at once, life is not going to be easy

[Scene: A hospital in Seattle. Minako is standing by Mamoru's bedside and staring that the door to make sure it is closed]

Mamoru: Minako, Zoi tried to kill me. He needs to die.

Minako: Yes, I heard the first time. [turns to face him] And actually, I already knew that. Artie was there and he saws the whole thing. How the Death Phantom crashed Zoi's party, how Zoi went crazy and tried to kill everyone, how the Heltry Twins showed up and put everyone on ice-

Mamoru: The Heltry Twins?

Minako: Hey, I was just as surprised as you are!

Mamoru: Who are the Heltry Twins?

Minako: Oh, no. Not you too!

Mamoru: [shakes his head] I don't know who they are. I've been so busy I've been out of the loop.

Minako: New freshman transfers from England...a boy and a girl...both incredibly good looking...

[Mamoru keeps shaking his head]

Minako: Oh for the love of God, manbitch! You dated one of them!

Mamoru: Really? Which one?

Minako: THE GIRL! Eleanor Heltry!But her brother Devon Heltry looks exactly like Fiore! Ring any bells now?

Mamoru: No. But my memory has never been the best. Not since the accident.

Minako: Whatever. It's not important...according to Kunzite they are pure evil, and insanely powerful, and must be stopped at any cost.

Mamoru: How are we supposed to stop them? We can't even stop the Death Phantom.

Minako: The Death Phantom is dead. Taken out by the Heltry Twins. But according to Kunzite they are just as bad, if not worse.

Mamoru: What? But if they killed the Death Phantom that means they are our friends, right?

Minako: Sadly, I've used my True Sight on them and they really are evil.

Mamoru: Great...

Minako: Kunzite's proposed a truce, seeing how it appears we have a common enemy-

Mamoru: WHAT?

Minako: I'm sorry you feel that way, because I already agreed to it.

Mamoru: NO! WE'RE NOT MAKING A TRUCE WITH THE SHITENNOU!

Minako: What's more, I say we push for a more active role in this alliance-

Mamoru: NO! I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU'D DO THAT!

Minako: Yeah, I worried Kunzite wouldn't believe it either. So I used my acting chops and told him that Artie voted in his favor, for the greater good and all that happy bullcrap...Long story short, the big dope fell for it-

Mamoru: MINAKO! HOW COULD YOU! YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT BERYL DID TO ME! I'D RATHER DESTROY THE WORLD MYSELF THAN HELP THE SHITENNOU DO ANYTHING!

Minako: Oh, calm down. We're going to meet with Kunzite. We're going to talk strategy. Then then when he least expects it...we're going to pull out our big long knives and stab him in right in the back!

[Mamoru's jaw drops]

Minako: Of course, the big question is, who should die first? Zoi or Kunzite.

Mamoru: [grinning manically] Zoi dies first. And I want to be the one to kill him.

Minako: Oh? Payback time?

Mamoru: Not at all. I want to see the look on Kunzite's face when he finds out I've killed the only person he has ever truly loved.

[The door burst open and the C'est La Vie gang and Usagi come tumbling in.]

Rei: Oh, HELL NO!

Minako: Bitches, stay out of this and let me and Endymion do all the dirty work.

Rei: The hell I will!

Ami: You need to stop.

Makoto: This petty vengeance thing has gone too far already.

Usagi: This isn't you! You need to go back to being the sweet, loving, happy people I used to know!

Minako: Petty vengeance? Kunzite murdered us and got away with it!

Usagi: I can forgive Kunzite for being a murderer! But I can't forgive him for hardening your heart and turning you into a dark person!

Minako: Kunzite is a genocidal maniac. He needs to face justice.

Rei: By killing his boyfriend?

Minako: Yes.

[The other girls stare at Minako is horror]

Makoto: You've been looking forward to this for a while, haven't you?

Rei: You've just been waiting for an excuse.

Minako: It's the best way to make him feel the gravity of his many horrific crimes.

Ami: We're not going to let you do something like that.

Makoto: This is not why we became Guardians. We took an oath to protect the innocent.

Minako: Oh, please! That thing calling itself Zoi is no innocent. He's a Shitennou

Rei: He's also OUR FRIEND! And he wasn't even around during the Silver Millennium! Killing him wouldn't be justice. It would be MURDER!

[The other girls nod enthusiastically]

Minako: Have you bitches forgotten that the whole reason that we are here is because Zoi tried to murder Endymion after he'd been nothing but nice to him?

Usagi: [crying and talking a mile a minute] No! That's not what happened! You weren't there! I was! The Death Phantom was using us as hostages and was threatening to kill us one by one! Zoi did what he had to do in order to escape, and because he did nobody died! And it was me he tried to kill, not Mamo, but only because the Death Phantom was trying to rip my arms out of my sockets. He aimed that spear at my heart but Mamo leapt in front of me-

[Usagi notices everyone is staring at her]

Usagi: What?

Rei: You said that Mamo got hurt in a gas explosion.

Usagi: [blushes] Yeah, he did but...um... no he didn't...I'm...um...starting to remember things a little differently...its slowly coming back to me...

Rei: Slowly coming back to you?

Minako: Who are you? Or should I say, what are you?

[Ami pulls out her smartphone]

Usagi: Um...I just remember I have homework to do. Bye.

[She turns to bolt and sees Makoto blocking the door]

Ami: According to what I can see, she's Usagi Tsukino, completely human and normal.

Minako: Yes, well I might have some deeper insight.

[Minako pulls her makeup compact out of her purse]

Usagi: [sweating bullet] Um...guys I really need to do my homework.

[Tries to push past Makoto]

[Minako opens her mirror and nearly drops it when she sees Usagi in it wearing a tiara and a white princess gown]

Minako: Selenity?

Mamoru: Selenity?

Everyone: PRINCESS SELENITY?

Usagi: [downcast and chewing her thumb] Yeah, guys. It's me.

#new moon of the dark kingdom

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woodsens · 4 years

Text

best portable keyboard

Correction Appended

On an album of bittersweet childrens tunes that she wrote greater than a decade back, the girl who came to get recognized only since the piano teacher offered what, in hindsight, seems like an eerie glimpse of her possess long term.

Im relocating away today to an area so far away, wherever no one is familiar with my title, she wrote inside the lyrics of a track referred to as Transferring.

When she wrote that music, she was youthful and vivacious, a piano Trainer and freelance music writer who cherished Beethoven and jazz, sunsets and river Appears, extended walks and every thing about Big apple.

On a type of beloved walks, as a result of Central Park in the bright sun of a June working day in 1996, a homeless drifter beat her and made an effort to rape her, leaving her clinging to daily life. Following the assault, the words and phrases to her track came true. She moved absent, from Ny city, outside of her aged lifetime, and all but her closest buddies did not know her identify. To the remainder of the earth, she was — such as the extra well known jogger attacked in Central Park seven several years earlier — an nameless symbol of an urban nightmare. She was the piano Trainer.

Now, about the tenth anniversary with the attack, she is celebrating what seems to be her comprehensive recovery from brain trauma. She is 42, married, with a small little one. She is Kyle Kevorkian McCann, the piano Trainer, and he or she wishes to tell her story, her way.

Her health practitioner informed her it might just take 10 years to recover, and Sunday was that talismanic anniversary. I really feel my existence has long been redefined by Central Park, she explained various days ago, her voice smooth and hopeful. Prior to park; immediately after park. Will there ever be a time Once i dont Consider, Oh, this is the 10th anniversary, the eleventh anniversary?

She spoke in her modest ranch residence within a wooded subdivision inside of a Big apple suburb. She sat inside a eating area strewn with toys, surrounded by images of her cherubic, darkish-haired 2-calendar year-previous daughter. A Steinway grand stuffed half the home, and at a single stage she sat down and performed. Her actively playing was forceful, but she appeared ashamed to Engage in various bars, and shrugged, instead of answering, when asked the title on the piece. She questioned that her daughter and her town not be named.

She phone calls that working day, June 4, 1996, the working day Once i was hurt.

Hers was the first within a string of attacks by a similar gentleman on four Gals more than eight days. The last sufferer, Evelyn Alvarez, sixty five, was beaten to Demise as she opened her Park Avenue dry-cleaning store, and eventually, the assailant, John J. Royster, was convicted of murder and sentenced to lifestyle in prison.

Nonetheless the assault to the piano Trainer is definitely the a single persons appear to keep in mind one of the most. Component of the fascination has got to do with echoes of the 1989 attack over the Central Park jogger. But it also frightened people in a method the attack about the jogger didn't simply because its instances ended up so mundane.

It didn't happen inside of a distant Element of the park late in the evening, but near a well-liked playground at 3 in the afternoon. It could have took place to any individual. The stress was heightened by the mystery on the piano instructors id.

For three times, as law enforcement and Health professionals experimented with to discover who she was, she lay in the coma in her hospital mattress, anonymous. Her dad and mom ended up on getaway and her boyfriend, also a musician, was in Europe, on tour. Last but not least, amongst her students acknowledged a police sketch and was in a position to recognize her from the medical center by her fingers, for the reason that her experience was swollen further than recognition. The law enforcement did not release her identify.

The very last thing she remembers about June 4, 1996, is giving a lesson in her studio apartment on West 57th Road, then Placing her long hair inside a ponytail and likely out for any walk. She doesn't bear in mind the attack, Though she has read the accounts in the law enforcement and prosecutors.

To me its similar to a actuality I realized and memorized, she reported. Like I had been a pupil at school researching heritage.

She does not contemplate The person who did it. I might need been angry for the minute, but not for much longer than that, she explained. How could I be angry at John Royster? He was declared not insane, but I assume by our criteria he was.

Dr. Jamshid Ghajar, her medical doctor at Big apple Healthcare facility-Cornell Medical Middle, as it was acknowledged in 1996, instructed reporters that she experienced a 10 % potential for survival. Physicians had to get rid of her forehead bone, which was afterwards changed, for making place for her swelling brain. When her mother made a general public appeal to pray for my daughter, hundreds did.

Just after 8 days, she came outside of a coma, very first inside of a vegetative point out, then in the childlike condition. As she recovered, she slept minor and talked continuously, sometimes in gibberish. I used to be finding mad at people once they didnt respond to these phrases, she mentioned.

Like an Alzheimers individual, she had very little shorter-expression memory and would forget about site visitors the moment they still left the place.

More than a number of months, she needed to relearn how to stroll, gown, read through and publish. Her boyfriend, Tony Scherr, frequented everyday to Engage in guitar for her. He inspired her to Enjoy the piano, in opposition to the recommendation of her Bodily therapists, who considered she could be frustrated by her inability to Participate in just how she after experienced. Mr. Scherr played Beatles duets together with her, participating in the left-hand aspect while she played the best.

That was my most effective therapy, she stated.

In August, she moved back again household to New Jersey, along with her father, an engineer, and mom, a schoolteacher. She visited outdated haunts and identified as pals, making an attempt to revive her shattered memory. I used to be really obsessed with remembering, she said. Any memory decline was to me a sign of abnormality or deficit.

Her therapists thought her progress was fantastic, but her two sisters protested that she wasn't the deep thinker she had been.

What bothered her most was that she experienced dropped the opportunity to cry, just as if a faucet within her brain were turned off. Just one night time, 9 months soon after she was damage, she stayed up late to look at the John Grisham movie A The perfect time to Eliminate. Just following her father experienced absent to bed, she viewed a courtroom scene of Samuel Jacksons character on trial for killing two men who experienced raped his young daughter.

The faucet opened, plus the tears trickled down her cheeks. I thought of my moms and dads, my father, and whatever they went through, she mentioned. Minimal by little, my emotion returned, my depth of intellect returned.

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Urged by her sisters, she went back to school and got a masters diploma in music instruction.

Not anything went very well. She and Mr. Scherr split up five years following the assault, while they remain buddies. She dated other Adult males, but she often explained to them in regards to the assault instantly — she couldn't assistance it, she claimed — plus they in no way called for your 2nd date.

We now have to search out you a person, her Good friend David Phelps, a guitar participant, mentioned four decades in the past, prior to introducing her to Liam McCann, a pc technician and novice drummer. For at the time, she didn't say everything with regard to the attack right up until she obtained to understand Mr. McCann, after which you can when she did, he admired her strength.

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Mayor Rudolph W. Giuliani, who had frequently visited her at her bedside when she was inside the clinic, married them in his Occasions Sq. Office environment. She wore a blue dress and pearls. While she was Expecting, within a burst of creative imagination, she and her pals recorded Whilst Have been Youthful, an album of childrens tracks that she had composed prior to the assault, including the track Moving. Her ex-boyfriend, Mr. Scherr, produced the CD. On it, her spouse plays drums and he or she plays electrical piano.

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Is her existence as it had been? Not precisely, although she is unwilling to attribute the differences to her accidents. Her very last two piano pupils still left her, devoid of calling to explain why, she stated. She has resumed participating in classical tunes, but uncomplicated pieces, mainly because her daughter isn't going to give her time and energy to exercise. As for jazz, I dont even try, she stated.

She would want to drive much more, sensation stranded while in the suburbs, but she is definitely rattled. She tries to be content with keeping house and caring for her daughter.

Dr. Ghajar, a scientific professor of neurological surgical treatment at what's now termed Ny-Presbyterian Healthcare facility/Weill Cornell Professional medical Heart, who operated on Ms. Kevorkian McCann once the attack, said last week that her volume of recovery was rare. Shes fundamentally regular, he stated.

Other industry experts, who will be not Individually acquainted with Ms. Kevorkian McCanns circumstance, are more careful.

Regaining a chance to Engage in the piano might include an almost mechanical course of action, a semiautomatic remember of just what the fingers must do, mentioned Dr. Yehuda Ben-Yishay, a professor of medical rehabilitation drugs at Big apple College University of Drugs. At the time Mind-injured, you will be generally brain-injured, For the remainder of your daily life, Dr. Ben-Yishay stated. There isn't a get rid of, There's only intensive compensation.

The more telling Section of a Restoration, in his perspective, is psychological, and on that score he counts Ms. Kevorkian McCanns marriage and youngster as a significant victory.

For her element, the piano Instructor is aware she has modified, but she has designed her peace with it. I used to be type of a hyper —— I dont know if I used to be a Type A, but I was ambitious, she suggests. Why was I so ambitious? I had been a piano Trainer. I dont understand what the ambition was about. I actually did come back to the individual Im purported to be.

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