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sharpwin101 · 3 years

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“EVERYTHING I DID, I DID FOR YOU”

N.B. Hey guys, I'm re-uploading this narrative due to previous grammar, spelling, punctuation, etc. mistakes. I'm completely bad at proofreading lol, and didn't take the time to read over, but after receiving some very impactful feedbacks on twitter, it gave me the motivation I needed to somewhat correct these mistakes🤞hopefully enough, finishing this fanfic, which I must say I'm quite excited for you guys to read.

S2 EP16 “EVERYTHING I DID, I DID FOR YOU”,

CHAPER 1

I don't get it? As tears stream down her cheeks,

Her thoughts raced as she remained in front of her bathroom mirror long enough to get agitated by her own self-pity.

She understood that harboring such feelings would not only be self-destructive, but would keep her trapped, she was mentally stronger, and refuses to let it sabotage the barrier she has construct throughout the years.

She knew conquering and embracing Max’s indecisiveness, was just a question of time. That continues to fail him terribly, repeatedly, to define them, what they meant to each other, wondering how much longer, if not impossible, it will be for him to embrace and overcome his own fetters to unleash what he truly feels.

Will he ever? she’s impel to believed, naively unaware of her imperceptiveness to his true desire, behind his barriers, causing her to suspect mistakenly,

Questing “does he feels the same”

She paces back and forth, flipping her heels off with a small grimace, scattering them on the floor.

Fervently turning to her living room, with an instant wipe of her tears, in the direction of the liquor cupboard, pulling the first wine bottle her hand came across, desperate for a wine opener, she run-walk towards the kitchen, leaving nearly all of the drawers open while probing through.

She spotted the opener. Yes, yes! Clutches it obstinately, relieved.

As she holds the bottle inverted between her knees, she struggled to open it a bit, her mind still being indistinct after their encounter, temporarily forgotten how to open the wine bottle.

(The wine cork flew free)

She hastily turns it to her head, gulping it down as if she didn't have time to consume it a bit slower, inadvertently spilling it on her.

Crap!

Returning to the bathroom in search of her robe, while undressing herself and gulping more wine down her throat.

Being the clean freak she is, immediately after, she brought her clothing towards the laundry room, as she senses the impending intoxication looming over her.

(Crash)The wine bottle slipped from her deft grip and shattered on the floor.

she slowly slumped to the floor, leaning against the laundry door for support grappling to sit up. While her clothes slowly unfold from her arms, As she casts a longing glare into space.

She ruminate aloud, frustratedly.

What is wrong with me? Staring up towards the roof, as though she was seeking answers to all of life's unanswered questions from a greater Entity.

Why I’m I so unlucky?

I fought on, knowing that I wasn't even sure whether I'd be ready too, if you chose me then or now, she added, laughing.

All the walls I've worked so hard to build, comes crumbling down whenever I see, I can’t comprehend it.

As she gently holds the nape of her neck, breathing deeply, with her left hand supporting her head, while facing down. I don't want to lose control; I can't lose control.

You say these significant things,

you look at me in the way you do, and then you do nothing? How can I fight for that?

You asked me why I did what I did, despite the fact that you already knew the answer. I asked you to define us;

what exactly, this, we are? as she motioned for answers

I've given you so much, and I tried so hard not to but it's as if all my rationale goes out the window when you're in danger. (laughing sarcastically at her self).

For God sake, you yelled at me.......... whenever I try to help.

I have these fantasies about you before getting out of bed, I've tried to ignore it; believe me, I have (laughing)

now I'm just here talking to myself.

As her gaze wandered around the room, she became irritated by the smashed wine bottle.

“ FIGHT FOR US”,

CHAPERT 2

(KNOCKING) She tilted her head, confusedly glancing towards the front door, wondering if it was the alcohol or someone was actually at the door.

Struggling to get up from the floor, as she continues to listen attentively to hear whether the knocking was coming from her front door. She slightly slipped when grabbing for her phone on the kitchen counter, to check the time.

11:43pm

Tightening her robe as she wiped her face, pondering, a few names flashed through her mind, But why would they not call? silently muttering to herself. Her phone started to ring as soon as the knocking ceased. Resuming her attention to her phone, which lids up, displaying "Dr. Max Goodwin” with a slight discontent look, she responded, still gazing at the door, nervously biting down on her index finger.

What, what do you want? She answered.

"I'm at your door; will you let me in?". Quickly swallowing her saliva, her heart races, instantly lowering her phone to her side, with a million thoughts rushes through her head as she looked at the messed she had created, quickly ending his call. She began picking up her clothes from the floor and rushed to the washroom, staring at her flushed face, unbothered at this point and didn't care whether he noticed she was crying.

She trudged towards the front door, spotting her bed slippers and pulls them on. Briefly pausing before opening the door.

There he was, standing in front of her. Casually dressed, in blue jeans, a grey t-shirt, and his black jacket, which she had seen him in before.

Trying not to look into his eyes, but he has already peered right into hers. Struck by how small and delicate she looks outside the walls of the hospital, becoming completely lost in her eyes, unable to speak. 'Um, I... What are you doing here? she asked, before he could finish his sentence.

Were you crying? With a slight head tilt, she rolled her eyes irritably as she turns her back on him, leaving the door ajar. What are you doing here, Max?, her voice raised rather than normal. The frustration in her voice perplexed him. I wanted to ‘Um, before noticing the shattered wine bottle on her floor.

As she reaches to get the mob and dustpan from the storage area adjacent to her kitchen. He watches her as she teeters, shutting the drawers that she left open earlier.

As she approaches the spilt wine on the floor, she kept her eyes lowered trying not to look him into his. He detects her shakiness as she extends the broom over the shattered wine bottle. No! he said, with no intent, to say it so loudly. Reaching his hands towards the broom.

Let me help, she still persisted. He gently withdrew the broom from her grasp when she walked away towards another section of her apartment, as his eyes followed her.

He disposed the shattered glass in the trash can, placing the mob and dustpan into the already opened storeroom.

In search of her, he returned to the living room area. noticing she had her back to him, curled up on her couch in a sitting position, fully wrapped in a blanket that matches the color of his shirt.

He stood behind her for minute before approaching.

Placing his hand on her shoulder as he walks to the side of the couch. She shivers at his touch just enough for it to go unnoticed while still looking down.

Seating next to her, he tries to get her attention. Helen, she did not respond. I'm sorry.... As he questioned. Are you okay? Placing her right palm on her forehead, displaying a tiny discomfort. She muttered, I have a minor headache. ‘Um, do you have any pain relievers? Instantly patted his forehead after, quickly realizing she wouldn't be able to take it seeing that she was drinking. Hastily corrects himself, do you want me to make you some tea? she fixes her gaze on him.

Please let me make you tea, while he makes his usual puppy eyes at her.

She gave her approval with a nod. Where are your…...? Instructing him with a finger while drawing the blanket back up to her shoulders. He stood up lively, walking towards her kitchen, absolutely taken aback by how tidy and organized her apartment looked.

Already knowing what kind of tea because they both enjoy it the same, reaching into the pantry for the box of tea bags on the lower shelf, pulling a cup from the washer and placing it on the hot water kettle. He spoons in 1/2 teaspoon of sugar exactly how she likes it. While leaning his back on the counter.

As he waited for the water to heat up, he indulged in his thoughts, gazing around her kitchen.

The whistling from the kettle stopped, with relieved he turned around, adding the hot water to the tea bag and returning to her,

With a wide smile on his face, he hands her the cup, she noticed he didn't have his wedding ban, she looked into his eyes as her hands extends to take the cup. He noticed that she noticed, with a little distance between them, he sat beside her in silence.

on her third sip of tea, he glances at her and proceeded to apologize.

I should never have let you walk out that door, ‘I, I.... I have tried to hide this. It's been hard,

It almost drove me completely insane. As she looked at him, intently listening

I've tried to hold back, since the day we met.......................... It's been eating me alive knowing I felt this way while being married and had already started a family,

but I can't deny that I haven't felt this, not any more, he remarked, shaking his head.

For the longest time, I felt guilty, knowing I had felt this way about you,

if I let you slip out of my life, without trying, to fighting for us, I will not survive it,

I see you, Helen. it’s just that sometimes it takes me a minute, to remember what matters more than anything, you.

He drew closer to her, as she sets the tea cup on the center table. Helen,

I’m ready to fight. Fight for you, for Us.

Every time you've been near me, I've wanted to do stuff to you, imagining what it would be like.

You are undeniably BEAUTIFUL and sexy, and I need to have you, in all the ways I have been dreaming of.

She swallows her nonexistent saliva as he got closer. With her mouth partially open, uncontrollably batting her eyes at him. She searches his eyes, while he searches hers for permission, to touch her, intimately. Placing his left hand on the right side of the back of her neck sliding his fingers upward, gently holding on to her hair, a rush of adrenaline prickled her stomach, as he watched the whooshing of her breathing, thinking how soft on silky the growths of her hair felt.

She needed him to touched her, she needed to grip him closer, but her body was weak, weak to his touch. As they stared intensely at each other, their faces being only a few inches apart, tightening his grip on her hair, causing her to slightly tilted her head back, finally freeing of her temporary paralysis, she grabs hold to his muscular arm with her left hand, while clutching his side with her other hand.

He knew he was in charge, and she wanted him, his lips being a inch closer to hers, her eyelids, fill down slowly closing.

Their lips touch, as their bodies tingles, her chest rises, left her feeling like she had no air. The instant chemistry they felt, was uncontrollable. His thinking slowed when his lips met hers. Time becoming unknown, as if he were in a dream, how warm and crazily soft her lips were.

As they draw each other deeper and further into each other's sanctum, thrusting herself up with a knee for support.

Has he pauses, looking intently into her eyes, slowly begin rolling her robe over her shoulder.

In complete awe of how clear and smooth her skin appears, while stirring her down. He notices she was wearing a black lace bra that matches her thong, which complemented her skin tone well, lost in her eyes, before entirely removing her robe. As she gets back up on both knees, yanking his jacket off, while he impatiently helped her to removed his shirt.

Unbuckling his belt, she unzip his jeans. Holding her by the lower portion of her cheeks, he punches his tongue into her mouth. Resting his back on the couch, hoisted her up on top of him.

feeling her body, with both his hands on her waist, recognizing how small it was in comparison to her hips, being considerably wider. She bends her knees and places her hands on the couch over his shoulder. As his tongue trails down her neck, while unclipping her bra, struggling a little.

Carefully pulling it off, her hands fill to her side, looking down at him, when he stroked her breast with his hands, causing her head to fall back uncontrollably, as a rush of adrenaline went to her vulva, gasping harder as he places his mouth over her tit, slowly sliding his hand into her thong concomitantly.

He gave her a look, realizing she was already lubricated, as she gasped for breath somewhat dropping her upper body backwards as his hand quickly supported her back, her mouth flew wide open, when he slid his index and middle finger in an upward motion on her clit.

She moaned loudly as he stroked it faster, her body slipping in and out of his grip, being a fraction of a second from an orgasm, he halted.

He hoisted her up positioning her back laying on the couch, with one of his hands intertwined with hers above her head. He opens her legs slightly with his bent knee, while she bends her knees up to give him access. Passionately kissing her while caressing her clit with his right fingers. Her heart races. As he drags his tongue in between her breasts, he releases her hands as he went down further, trailing his tongue towards her navel, causing her tummy to jerked.

He elevates his head up as he pulls himself down more to her vulva, while holding on to her hips. He tasted her, swiftly clinging to the cushion behind her, unable to keep her legs steady as he licks her clit. (she rapidly gasp for air).

She weakly tries to pull him up, with her orgasm being at it’s peek, moving back towards her lips, as they exchanged sensual glances. Using his hands as a support to keep himself upright while holding on to his already-erected dick. He puts the blanket under her back to elevate her slightly.

Penetrating her. Max, she screamed, quivering and gasping for breath, as she looks deeply into his eyes, attempting to caress the side of his face, (while she bit her bottom lip, as he went in deeper, she clutches onto him.

His sweat drips on her skin, as he moans, they couldn’t get enough of each other.

As he penetrates deeper, harder and faster inside her, he tightens his grasp around her waist. As they drew closer, their moans became more even louder.

Fuck! he shouted as he ejaculated his semen into her, simultaneously in the instant of her orgasm relief. They both felt to the ground. Looking at each other, completely in awe.

He extends his hand to the side of her face, pulling her in, to cuddled her.

#new amsterdam #helen sharpe #max goodwin #freema agyeman #ryan eggold #helen #max #nbc #nbc new amsterdam #sharpwin

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zu-is-here · 3 years

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Hi Zu! Congratulations on making your portfolio, and best of luck with the presentetion! В понедельник буду усиленно держать за тебя кулачки 💞

Do you put sugar in your tea? If yes, then how much? And do you leave the spoon in the cup?

Yesterday was quite alright, I think. It was my mother's birthday; I don't celebrate those, so no presents from me, but of course I congratulated her and wished her all the best nonetheless. Also someone else asked me to keep his present in secret, and now that was fun. This person is from another city, but he visited us about a month ago; that's when he bought a present and asked me to hide it until the day comes. He ordered flowers delivery, and right after that I gave mum his present. She was so surprised and delighted! And then, as expected, the whole day she was jokingly complaining about us conspiring against her, and about the way I kept it a secret this whole time, even congratulated her myself earlier without blinking an eye (x I'm very glad that I was a part of this whole scheme, and that I was able to help. Oh, and I bought a ticket to Major Grom: Plague Doctor; I'm sure I'll have watched it by the time you respond. So excited ✨ And nervous, I really hate going somewhere alone...

Same here! My space might look messy for others, but I know for sure where all the stuff is. It's such a pain in the neck to clean up! After that I never know where to find a certain thing, and slowly but surely everything just drifts into its rightful place, just the way it was before cleaning.

Wahoo to the little brave you, then! ✨ It's wonderful that you don't regret this decision at all, really. And neither do I regret mine, for me earrings still seem meaningless and irritating (x

Скользить по поверхности тоже хорошо, особенно когда у автора столько миров и циклов, сколько у Змеал (х И да, именно оттуда! Если будет интересно именно про этот мир, тогда в синем блокноте тег #мир_временных_потоков, в Записках городского Левиафана — #Нам_не_страшен_мёртвый_сон (а ещё раньше #волк_который_стреляет_пирожки_по_ночным_улицам) Там не только и не столько про дедлайны, но в том числе про них.

Well, I mean, while Europe is definitely farther to the west, Volgograd isn't that much farther to the east from Saint Petersburg. That's what got me lost. But other than that, true, our summer is extremely hot, and we have two big rivers near each other, so it's a nice place to spend vacation if one doesn't want to or simply can't afford to travel abroad or even to the Black Sea. (Okay, now I'm just rambling... Hope you wouldn't mind.)

Thanks for your answers! I'm so happy it's become a daily thing ✨ Talking to you is now one of the best parts of my routine, truly.

And by the way, your new drawing is beautiful, simply breath-taking. The tension is so high, so thick, it's contagious. I actually feel anxiety rise in me every time I look at this art of yours, and it's a rare case when this anxiety is welcome. Wonderful. I love it.

Also I loved you all talking about the crossover with Hazbin Hotel. I've had a few ideas of my own for quite some time now, so seeing others talk about it is somehow pretty nice, inspiring almost 🌻

Anyways. Keep up the great work and take care! *hugs*

Hi anfie╰(*´︶`*)╯Awww thank you so much for supporting me!! ♡ Твоё внимание мне льстит (*´꒳`*)

No, I drink tea without sugar so a spoon is not needed ( ˘▽˘)っ♨ Though when I used it, I didn't leave the spoon in the cup cause it's considered a bad omen (I guess xd) What about you?

Happy belated birthday to your mother! <3 Don't you celebrate birthdays? (ó3ò) But why? In any case, it was so nice and thoughtful of him, and you did help a lot! (๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵)☆ By the way, how was the movie? *^* Hope positive emotions brightened up your pastime on your own ☆

Ah that's such a truth about things being in rightful place! x) And as for no earrings, that's good too╰(*´︶`*)╯И спасибо тебе большое за теги! Надеюсь, не заблужусь, если они будут работать там получше здешних XD

Oh I don't mind at all! That's such a nice and refreshing benefit (*'▽'*) By the way, how long does it take to get to the Sea of Azov or to the Black Sea from Volgograd?

Same here <3 I manage to write to you late at night (or in the early morning heh) so that you always wake up with a message to read (*´∇｀*)

And I'm really glad you enjoyed that messy drawing, thank you sooo much! (〃ω〃)

OH— would you mind to share some ideas of yours for HH crossover as well, please? *^* Don't hesitate to join any discussion with things you'd love to talk about too! <3

Take care *hugs* ♡

#ask #zu is happy

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sophiathakur · 7 years

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You're mixed race, you can't talk about black issues

My best friend turned to me, over seven years into our friendship and said “omg, you’re actually half black”. You would think that after seven years of putting up with my face, she would have realised this sooner. I wasn’t surprised however. With both of my parents spending their early years adventuring the plains of West Africa (Gambia and Sierra Leone), my whole life has been a testament to Gambian culture. From the weekly family parties growing up, to the food and music that have become my most dominant discourse over the years and to anyone who blindly spends time with me; I am an entirely Gambian child. A small country, Kora loving, Benachin eating lady of the west. This is how I saw myself. This overwhelming, unspoken of, sense of belonging had always felt like one of the biggest contributors to my creative work from the ages of 16-19. I’d spend months at a time writing and performing across the country at black history month events, black lives matter events and even the occasional pan-African event. Throughout this part of my youth, I had never stopped to smell the roses. The roses, in this case, being an obvious reality to the untrained eye. I am not actually 100% Gambian, or black for that matter. In a Love Jones type bar, during the winter of 2014, I found myself sharing a stage with a painter who’s role was to illustrate my words, live. Not only was this a cool spin on conventional poetry readings, but I was ecstatic about performing my new poem ‘Kermit’. This excitement quickly turned into anxiety following my set. Amidst the crowd, existed a woman. A woman who saw no place for a yellow skinned (I’d say golden, but whatever) poet, within the race debate. “You know, as a mixed race GIRL, you shouldn’t speak on behalf of black people” were her near exact words. After years of advocating pro-black movements, this was a real shock to the system. Perhaps I was oblivious to the wider opinions on this, but this was the first time I was forced to step back and actually assess whether my cause was really my cause. Am I equipped to fight this battle? I remember staring into this woman’s face for what felt like two eternities, just waiting for her to further develop her opinion. The opinion that never came. I was left to unpick my message, direction and identity for days to follow. She was right, I wasn’t 100% black, and my poems were generally from the perspective of a black woman. Was I wrong for this? Was I just as bad as the culture vultures that I so often grew to resent? Was I just as bad as Rachel Dolezals? Typically, I can overthink myself into a frenzy. On this occasion, I thought the best thing to do here was to seek the council of four wise women. My 2nd year housemates. So often, we sat in the kitchen burning the midnight and morning oil. Discussing everything from the after-life, to Hip-Hop today, to cultural appropriation. From the proverbs of four black women in their twenties, I quickly learnt that feeling black and being black were not the same thing. Yes, we all talk the same talk, and advocate the same messages, but I will never walk into a room and be perceived as a black woman by onlookers, despite how black I may feel. Upon this realisation, I was actually rather lost. I tried to draw conclusions from Obama’s story; a mixed race black man. From Rosa Parks story, another half Indian, half African-American, and even Eminem’s story at one point. Each only begging the question as to how vigorously I could pursue this cause, before someone else turned around and said that I had no right to do so. This show was smack bang in the middle of a University Tour that I had organised. With four more stages to imprint on, I needed to make a decision as to whether or not I should continue performing Kermit. I did not want to cause offence or overstep, but at the same time, the issues that I touched on within the poem were so unapologetically real to me, a half Asian half Gambian woman. To some people, a drop a colour is all you need to be black. Obama, Marley and even Rosa Parks have been testament to this. To others, unless you have had to go through being aware of your blackness every single day, you can not consider yourself black. Enough people live on both sides of the fence for me to have an audience either way. So what now Sophia? Well in true Sophia fashion, I wrote out all of the questions and answered them to find a conclusion. What color is your skin? Brown, color of my soils. How deep are your roots? All I’ve known is how to be Gambian in London. All I’ve ever seen when I look in the mirror is a Gambian woman. Do you love and care for the black man? Like no other. Have you fetishized blackness? It isn’t a trend or sport. It’s an undeniable truth that I not only exist within, but revel in. Are you thinking progressively when you talk on the black race? I only want the best for my peopledem (and humanity), and poetry is my means of activism. Does police brutality weigh in on your heart? I’ve got brothers man. I’ve got friends and family. Even if I didn’t, killing off black men is not okay. Furthest thing from. This is a humanitarian issue. Is your intention valid? This is a message that is real to me. Not transracial real, but ‘I need to see my people win’ real. Will you continue to perform Kermit? I feel almost obligated too now. Will you continue to write poems for the people? Mmmmhmm, I’ve got sauce to spread. Are you black? I am. Half. But I am. With everything and everyone being scrutinised online these days, it’s become hard to fight some corners. The thin line between cultural appropriation and cultural appreciation has become relatively blurry. With this in mind, perhaps focusing on the bigger picture will at least push everyone in a vaguely similar direction. There will be casualties on the way, inevitable. There are problems alive, that are bigger than us all. Systemic racism, institutionalised discrimination, critical race theories and many more problematic discourses that have resulted in the oppression of black people. With pure progressive intentions, and a spoon of sensitivity, may my white, oriental and brown skinned brothers and sisters help inform and breakdown these detriments. No man is an island, and no battle can be fought alone. To keep the battle within the black race is un-progressive. Even the Indians, in all of their ownership, require everyone’s co-operation to flourish. To the woman who said that I shouldn’t, I will. I will do so with sensitivity and every bit of mixed race blood within me. The battles is ours because equality is ours.

#black lives matter

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