#he should be one bad day away from buying a box of manic panic and staining the bathtub irreversibly

[cryptocism]

guy who spends all his money on demonia boots

[aftgandotherbooks]

First time Neil cries in front of the foxes- Nicky

TW- Mention of blood (Only a small drop of it though)

Nicky, unfortunately, has a bad habit of listening in on conversations in the car when he hasn’t been involved.

After overhearing Andrew and Neil’s conversation on how deprived Neil is on the best type of desserts, Nicky jumped in with a gasp, “you’ve never had cheesecake? Have you even seen a cake in your life? Have you ever even baked anything?” In which Neil responded with “no? I’ve never baked before”.

After having to remove himself from the conversation before he got too high pitched and heated, Nicky decided that it will be his lifelong mission to teach Neil to bake every existing sweet dish (within reason).

Thus, every time Nicky went grocery shopping, he bought ingredients for a new dessert each time.

They’ve made so many dishes, even some of Nicky’s favourite German desserts because it reminded him of Erik.

On the day Nicky first witnessed Neil cry, it started out innocent, and dare say even fun. Nicky and Neil were baking choc chip cookies to cheer up Andrew who was still recovering from a concussion.

Nicky was chopping up a slab of chocolate into smaller pieces with a knife because it’s so much cheaper than buying a packet of chocolate chips.

Because Neil was still quite new to the whole ‘baking’ thing, Nicky had to check on Neil every few minutes to make sure Neil wasn’t somehow lighting the kitchen on fire (“it happened once Nicky, and it was mostly Kevin’s fault!”)

He looked up to where Neil was kneading the dough (“fold it in from the sides Neil! It’s not a piece of hot ass, you don’t need to slap it!”) and saw that Neil was digging his fingers into the dough, instead of using the heels of his hands.

So, Nicky (knife still in his hand) stepped behind Neil and without thinking, grabbed the hand still in the dough to try and adjust it to how he should be doing it.

In an instant, Nicky swore it only took less than a second, Neil grabbed the knife from Nicky’s hand and held it to Nicky’s neck.

Nicky quickly breathed in, and tried to stay still as possible.

Nicky was used to Andrew threatening him with a knife, but he always knew Andrew would never really hurt him. However, this time, Neil’s eyes didn’t hold a blank type of anger (or pure joy from his manic times) that Andrew’s eyes held. Instead, Neil’s eyes held fear.

It was like Neil wasn’t even in his body anymore, the real Neil had floated away when he felt threatened by the unpredicted touch, and the sight of a knife.

The Neil that was holding the knife too hard to Nicky’s neck was glazed over, and so so afraid.

Nicky tried calling his name, even using “Abram”, which Nicky heard Andrew use a few times when Neil’s anxiety hit peak, to bring him back.

But it didn’t work.

Neil’s hand eventually started shaking, and due to the movement of his hand and the heavy pressure of the knife to Nicky’s neck, a small cut opened when the knife met skin.

It was the sight of the deep red blood pooling at the top of the knife and dripping down Nicky’s neck that bought Neil back with a startled jump backwards into the bench where the long-forgotten cookie dough sat.

“Nicky” Neil breathed, repeating the name as if reminding him that it was Nicky standing in front of Neil, and not his father.

Nicky took a step closer to Neil, but Neil shook his head and moved to the side and stepped back more, away from Nicky.

“Neil it’s okay. I’m okay. It’s just a small cut” Nicky gently said, hands out and keeping his voice calm in attempt to soothe Neil’s panic.

Neil shook his head again.

What stopped and broke Nicky’s heart more than the knife that was held to his neck a minute ago were the tears building up in Neil’s eyes.

Nicky is not afraid of emotion. He refuses to hide who he is and what he feels after living through what his parents put him through. Eric has taught him many things, one of which is that it’s okay to cry, even especially if you’re a man. Emotions are a part of the human condition, and to hell with anyone who claims that men aren’t meant to cry. So seeing Neil in such a state of panic and fear and guilt broke Nicky’s heart. From what he knew about Neil’s shit excuses of parents, he gathered that they most likely punished Neil badly if he showed any kind of emotion or ‘weakness’.

So, seeing Neil crying, Nicky slowly stepped closer to Neil.

This time, Neil allowed it, but he started crying harder.

With his arms still held out, Nicky slowly took the knife out of Neil’s hand, put it on the counter next to him and then turned back and asked “can I hug you Neil?”.

After the incident at Eden’s the first time Neil went with the group, and Nicky non-consensually kissed a drugged Neil, Nicky felt so much guilt, regret and self-hatred. He swore to himself to make sure he has to try harder in getting consent before making a move on anyone.

Today, he forgot to do so- hence knife incident.

When Neil nodded his head, and muttered a weak “yes”, Nicky hugged him.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry Nicky, I didn’t mean it. I wasn’t fully there. The knife... I... it…” Neil then sobbed into Nicky’s shoulder. “No Neil, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have just touched you, especially with a knife in my hand. I should have known better” Nicky says, apologetically.

Nicky stroked his back in a soothing manner, saying “shhh, it’s okay, I’m okay”. After a few minutes of hugging, the two broke apart, and Nicky, went back to his usual happy self (he was obviously still upset, shocked and sad, but he wanted to move past the intense moment and get Neil back to a calm and happy place) and said “okay! Let get back to it. Let me quickly clean my neck and wash my hands, and then I’ll show you how to knead dough with your hands, not your fingers you imbecile.”

And that’s how Andrew ended up with a box of choc chip cookies on his bed when he got home from an early session with Betsy.

[msjr0119]

Ross Gellar prompt list 9. "My life is an embarrassment. I should just go live under somebody's stair."

Thanks for the prompt Ella, I should have posted this months ago. But my life took over 🤣... better late than never 🤷‍♀️

Book: The Royal Romance

Warnings: Swearing, imagination of sex, mention of sex.

A/N: I’ve borrowed Willow and Sophie from the amazing @pedudley with her permission ❤️

Tags - just using my combined tag list for this one shot prompt:

@pedudley @loveellamae @kacie-0156 @annekebbphotography @kingliam2019 @burnsoslow @kimmiedoo5 @lodberg @walker7519 @drakewalkerisreal @axwalker @bascmve01 @ladyangel70 @texaskitten30 @yukinagato2012 @indiacater @queenjilian @drakewalker04 @cmestrella @hopefulmoonobject @rainbowsinthestorm @desireepow-1986 @jared2612 @twinkle-320 @princessleac1 @cordonianroyalty @custaroonie @princess-geek @bebepac @nikkis1983 @i-bloody-love-drake-walker @rafasgirl23415 @notoriouscs @seriouslybadchoices @furiousherringoperatortoad @choices97 @gardeningourmet

*****

Maxwell Beaumont had become slightly paranoid after watching all the news reports regarding the virus that was taking over the world. He became that obsessed with reading about it, that every time he began to have palpitations. Wondering what was going to happen? Was it the end of the world? Searching through Ramsford, he realised that he needed to go on shopping trip- quickly scribbling a long list down he knew that the two people who would be most useful with helping him complete it would be his best friends Drake and Willow.

“So Max, are you turning into housewife whilst Sophie is away?” Willow laughed, imagining Maxwell dressed up in a pinny. Sophie had returned to Texas to check in on the ranch prior to the outbreak, to make sure that it was still there and not burnt to a crisp. She knew she could trust Willow’s brother but still had those lingering doubts.

“No, have you not seen the news? We need to panic buy! Like, right now...before the country goes on full lockdown.”

Willow and Drake looked at each confused, wondering if he was still drunk from last night. Surely it wasn’t that bad? The two of them had seen the news, but it was elsewhere in the world- not in Cordonia. Yet.

“Max, calm the fuck down. The world isn’t ending.” Maxwell shot him a look, wondering why he wasn’t taking the whole situation seriously.

“Lo, understands don’t ya?”

“Of course I do.” Shrugging her shoulders, she bit her lip as she faced her partner. Not wanting to be in the middle of a debate. Drake pulled her closer towards her giving her a stern expression before whispering into her ear.

“What the fuck are you doing? You’re just encouraging him.”

“Maybe, but once we get back- I’ll make it up to you.” Fluttering her eyelashes towards Drake, he knew exactly what she meant by her words. Just the thought of it made his cock slightly raise. The sooner we go, the sooner we get back.

“Fine. Come on let’s go.”

****

Arriving at the supermarket, Drake instantly regretted agreeing to come. The first reason being, was when Maxwell handed them both a mask to wear. It felt suffocating, but after thinking about it- it would prevent the spread of germs. People were panic shopping, overfilling their trollies. It was manic. Maxwell got the trolley, pushing it - he then leaped onto the side nearly crashing into a stack on baked beans.

“Wahoo! Supermarket sweep- here we come!” Willow screamed with excitement trying to catch up with Max. Fucking children, Drake murmured to himself- keeping a slight distance, he attempted to dodge people barging past him.

“Buddy! You’ve got five packs of toilet rolls! This one is mine.” Maxwell snapped at the stranger whilst playing tug of war. Willow ran over to assist him, Drake believed that she would calm the situation down. She was capable enough to handle any situation. Standing at the side of the aisle, he flicked through social media to keep himself entertained.

“Excuse me? Do you know that man and woman?” Drake turned to the man, wondering why concern was painted across his face. That was until he followed the strangers gaze that landed onto his girlfriend and ‘friend’. For fuck sake.

“Give my friend the fucking goddamn bog roll!” Willow demanded with her arms folded.

“I got it first missy!” Maxwell threw himself on to the floor, ready to cause a tantrum like a child. I just want a pack of toilet roll. Why is he not co-operating? Why is this happening to me? To us? Is it just a nightmare? I just want- no need some fucking toilet roll to wipe my arse with! What a selfish prick! I’m not an animal that can wipe my arse on a patch of grass. Fuck you mate, you’ve messed with the wrong person.

“I feel like I need to piss.” Maxwell stood up, now not giving two damns. Whipping his cock out- he urinated over the mans shoes. His original plan was to just threaten it, however his apparent full bladder decided otherwise. Urine sprayed uncontrollably all over the man and the aisle as if it was a burst dam.

“If I had my toilet roll, I could have been home now. Sorry, not sorry.”

“You’re fucking disgusting! But all of this toilet roll is mine.”

“You know what, I think I need a shit.” Willow pulled her trousers down, sitting on the edge of the strangers trolley- she pretended to push.

“Okay, Fine. Take it!” The man couldn’t cope with the two of them acting like caged baboons. Pushing Willow off of his trolley, he forced the toilet into her hand before storming off. Willow jumped up and down celebrating, waving the toilet roll in the air - ensuring that she had a tight grip onto it. Before anybody could snatch it off of her. Maxwell high-fived her. “Team work.” He shouted, before kissing the toilet roll, and bowing to it.

“Now that’s done, Lo- we just need; flour, bread, milk, eggs.... the list goes on in fact. Surely it won’t be as difficult getting those things? Do you and Drake want to add anything to the list? Condoms? Lube?”

“Maxwell.... I do not need lube when it comes to my sex life with Drake.... come on let’s go over to Drake.” Too much information, Willow. Although, myself and Sophie don’t need lube either. Us Cordonian men must be sex machines.

“Nope. Never seen them before in my life. I think that they have been released from the psychiatric hospital by the looks of it.” Drake explained to the stranger after the two of them viewed the the two’some embarrassing themselves. The man next to Drake just nodded, knowing that he was lying as Maxwell was trying to gain Drake’s attention.

****

Once they got back, Drake felt as if he had to ground the two of them. That was the worse shopping experience that he had experienced- he definitely needed a whiskey or two. Then he could punish Willow for her behaviour- the Walker way.

“Could you put the shopping away guys? Sophie’s FaceTiming.”

“We can all talk to her!” Willow suggested. It wasn’t only Maxwell that was missing her.

“Hey baby girl. I’ve missed you.”

“Maxwell! How could you?”

“How could I what?”

“You’re all over the news and the internet!” Drake turned the tv on, indeed Maxwell had stolen the limelight.

"But Soph, he wouldn’t give me the toilet roll. He had five! Willow can vouche for me!”

“I don’t know what you are on about Max. I wasn’t there. I’m not on the tv.” Winking at Drake, he was grateful that her arse wasn’t on the tv. They decided to leave the two lovebirds talking to each other, but still stayed within distance so they could over hear Sophie give Maxwell a telling off.

"Willow is lying! My life is an embarrassment. I should just go live under somebody's stair."

“Oh, Max. I love you. I’ll see you soon. Don’t cause anymore trouble.... please.”

Hanging up, Maxwell wondered where Drake had gone. Hearing willows distinctive laugh- he followed the noise.

“What are you guys doing?”

“You said you was going to live under somebody’s stairs? I’ve turned the cupboard under the stairs into a little home for you. You’ll be like Harry Potter. There’s some newspaper and toilet roll for you Maxwell.” Willow attempted not to laugh at Drake’s comment, but she couldn’t help herself. Practically nearly wetting herself.

I hate my life right now.

****

Four months later, the pandemic was still around but numbers had decreased. Maxwell returned to the supermarket- alone, as Drake refused to go again after the last time. Luckily he wasn’t recognised- or banned for that matter.

Walking down the toilet roll aisle, a little smirk spread across his face remembering the last time that he was playing tug of war. Now there wasn’t a shortage of toilet roll, but he had decided to stock up just incase. As he was leaving, his stomach began to rumble and there was a sudden urge to eat McDonald’s - even if it was only Drive Thru for the time being. Thinking about it, he didn’t have his own car as Sophie had lent it to take her and Willow our for a spa day- but he was desperate for the greasy food and a milkshake. Then a light bulb appeared in his mind.

****

Arriving at the Drive Thru, he was slightly uncomfortable- but the food that he would be receiving would definitely be worth the short term discomfort. Honking the horn, he couldn’t wipe the ever growing smirk forming on his face. Beep beep.

“Excuse me, Sir. You can’t come through the Drive Thru in that...”

“It’s a car!” Maxwell shouted as he defended his choice of ‘automobile’. The member of staff was wondering if there was a camera crew lingering somewhere - ready to pounce out, shouting ‘you’ve been punk’d’.

“I refuse to move until I’ve been served. I would like; six double cheese burgers, a share box of nuggets- make sure I have a mixture of sauces to go with them. Erm, I’ll have a Big Mac meal with a large chocolate milkshake... what would Drake like? They don’t do alcohol with meals here like in Paris.. hmm. You know what, give me six of everything off of the menu. I’m sure we could eat it all. If not I’m sure my peacocks would enjoy the treat.”

“I will not ask you again. Please come back when you are in a car. Besides, we only have a €25 limit for each customer.”

“Are you refusing to serve me, the person who is giving you quite possibly the biggest order you’ve ever received.”

“Yes. If you don’t leave now, I will have to call the police. Please, Sir. You are causing a traffic jam!”

“Serve me right now, or I’ll inform the King. I am close friends with him. He will not be pleased that you have refused to serve someone that is part of his court.” The manager came out of the restaurant, to see what all of the commotion was about- he understood that it would be busy due to them only just reopening but he could hear shouting. However he didn’t need this stress.

“Will you just serve him, it’s giving us a bad reputation and customers are videoing it. I don’t care what the issue is or that he’s not in a car. Just serve him now. Then we can ban him returning in the future!” Maxwell smirked at the crew member, as his eyebrows did a celebratory wiggle.

****

Returning back to Ramsford, he was so pleased with himself- proud that he had brought some food back with him as he nibbled on the way back. Opening the door, he knew that the girls would be back- they could all feast together.

“No need to thank me, but I have food! For us all....” Bowing as he entered the through the doors saying this, he believed that he had definitely won the ‘best friend’ award.

“Maxwell!” Everybody shouted in unison- as they scowled at him with their arms folded.

“What?” He asked innocently, whilst scoffing the remainder of the double cheeseburger that he had begun to eat prior to walking through the doors.

“Care to explain this to me?” Bertrand snarled as he passed the phone over. Drake shook his head - disbelieving that Maxwell had become an ‘overnight’ sensation yet again.

“Looks like you’re going to re-enacting Harry Potter again, eh Beaumont...”

“Shut up, Drake! Listen... Bertrand... it’s a car. I went through the Drive Thru. I don’t personally see the issue... anyway. Enjoy the food, everyone!”

A crazy man attended McDonald’s today- in a Little Tykes car with the number plate BARTIE-IS-DA-BEST. We will not tolerate behaviour like in the video posted below. If anybody arrives at our restaurants acting like this- YOU WILL NOT BE SERVED! If anybody knows the mans identity, please report him. Thank you.

[jess-rewatches-prodigalson]

Episode 8: Family Friend

Things are getting intense. 

SPOILERS

0:16 - Martin has a nameplate that reads “Dr Martin Whitly” in his home office. That is maybe the most egotistical, narcissistic thing I have ever seen. Seriously. WTF Martin. 

1:14 - So this phone in the basement has a different phone number than the rest of the landlines in the house? Seems odd. I guess Martin set it up as a business phone so it needed to have a different number?

1:21 - This conversation is really cool. Malcolm is scared - you tell by the way his voice cracks a little at 1:22 and by his eyes in the beginning of the conversation. However, you can also see that Malcolm has been trained by the FBI to be an investigator. Listen to his interview skills. He’s calm, professional, and he’s speaking in careful, calculated sentences. It’s impressive. I’d really like to see him in this position more often. Another really interesting part of this scene is Jessica’s reactions in the background she looks positively terrified. She’s hugging herself and looking around in horror. I’m not sure we’ve ever seen her this frightened. 

1:23 - So Watkins has been watching Malcolm right? For how long? Because he recognizes Malcolm’s voice. And presumably he recognized Malcolm’s face at the junkyard? Creepy.

3:35 - Ainsley is going through the interview footage with a disturbing amount of admiration and joy in her eyes - while her bf in unconscious because her dad orchestrated a stabbing during her interview.  Also though, is she editing the video footage? Seems like that’s not in her job description?  

4:40 - I love everything about the initial moments when we see Gil, JT, and Dani enter the Whitly house. First of all - Jessica is clearly still shaken and terrified. Secondly, Gil (even though he does look concerned for Jessica) looks so comfortable in that house. It really makes you wonder how many times he’s been there over the years because honestly, the house Gil was almost murdered in shouldn’t be a place he feels comfortable in. Finally - JT and Dani. hahaha they walk into the room with faces that are clearly trying to hide how awestruck they are by how rich the house is. JT actually has an expression that I’m interpreting as “Damn. Rich people have a lot of weird useless crap.” AND look how Jessica’s demeanour immediately changes from terrified to welcoming, considerate hostess the moment she sees JT and Dani. That is the result of years of rich people manners being drilled into her as a child. I’m sure of it.

5:12 - Look at the way Malcolm looks at his Mom as she pours a drink. He’s a mixture of exasperated, concerned, and embarrassed that her alcoholism is being so blatantly exposed. 

5:24 - Malcolm giving the abridged house tour to Dani and JT is awesome. He’s clearly trying to make them feel a little more comfortable in a world they aren’t used to while simultaneously trying to make clear that he doesn’t love the fancy house - it holds bad memories and he’d trade it in for a life without trauma. Also - Dani’s reaction is perfect. She’s trying to make Malcolm just as comfortable as he’s trying to make her. I love it. 

5:50 - How come this bald, black, police officer dude doesn’t have a name yet? He’s had speaking parts in most of the episodes. At this point he’s practically part of the team. 

6:15 - Gil checking up on Jessica is super sweet. ALSO the irony of keeping a gun in a hollowed out copy of War and Peace is hilarious.  

6:50 - Another Gil and Malcolm moment to fuel my heart. Also - Gil looks exhausted. Can someone please give this man a vacation? He does nothing but worry about our shaky-handed boy, Jessica, the Team, and Ainsley. Seriously - Gil needs some time off. 

7:21 - So it’s the next day. Am I to believe that Gil somehow convinced everyone to go home, shower, and come back in a few hours? Because it’s daylight now and everyone is in a fresh outfit. Something tells me Malcolm would not have done that willingly. 

7:22 - Something about the fact that Gil is the only one who ever drinks coffee during the case briefings is hilarious to me. 

8:22 - You know I’ve always laughed at this seen because JT says, “I can’t with this.” but I’ve been missing the best part of the scene!! Look at Gil’s face. hahaha it’s an expression of total disbelief. He’s so done with working with these children.

9:29 - Just how many jackets does Malcolm have?!? I know he’s rich but I really want to see his closet. He doesn’t strike me as a rich person who cares about appearances or the money itself. So - what does his closet look like and who is buying him all of these jackets?!?

10:15 - Anyone else wonder how the hell someone managed to bury a winnebago without anyone noticing? It just seems like it would’ve drawn a lot of attention?

10:47 - *sigh* Gil is so resigned to the fact that he can’t control Malcolm. Poor guy looks exhausted. Trying to save Malcolm from himself is not an easy job. This particular case is also probably really hard for Gil too. I mean, Gil caught the Surgeon. If this killer worked with the Surgeon, Gil is probably questioning his detective skills. Questioning whether or not he missed something all those years ago that would’ve had this killer behind bars years ago. Also Malcolm has gone manic again. Yikes.

13:25 - Ainsley. Ugh. Girl - your bf is in the hospital with a stab wound. Stop trying to find a story to further your career and worry about him. Honestly. Why is she even dating this guy? She clearly doesn’t care much about him.

14:24 - Katcha? Another one of the Whitly family employees. WHY ARE THERE SO MANY OF THEM?!? We’re up to 4 now (Louisa, Katherine, Alfonso, and Katcha). 

15:51 - Look at Eve in this scene. Initially she is annoyed, then concerned, then curious but by the end of the conversation you can tell that Eve is scared of what Jessica tells her.  

18:40 - haha look at Gil’s face here. He’s so pleased and amused that JT is teasing Malcolm. It’s precious. 

18:57 - Malcolm’s comment about how the Junkyard Killer has been killing for over 20 years, which is longer than the Surgeon, has me curious. How long did the Surgeon kill for? Did Martin start killing before he got married? Before Malcolm was born? After Malcolm was born? After Ainsley was born? I really want to know. ALSO Gil looks so concerned after Malcolm makes that little comment. Generally Gil shoots Malcolm a concerned look whenever Martin is brought up. I love it. 

19:02 - How long did the front desk have that box? No one noticed it was bleeding? AND that blood is seeping out really fast. There’s no way JT could’ve gotten it to Malcolm before it started bleeding. Ugh. The things I excuse/ignore because I understand episodes have a time constraint and things need to happen a certain way to forward the plot. 

19:43 - I don’t know a lot about how quickly the human body decomposes or anything BUT father Leo’s hands did not look that beat up a few minutes ago. Check out the severed hand’s finger nails? They’re in terrible shape. Biology nerds: does this kind of stuff happen to severed limbs? I’m curious but too scared to google (I don’t want pictures). 

21:00 - This is another instance where we can see how good Malcolm is at interviewing....well until Watkins brings up the girl in the box and Malcolm kind of loses his mind. I love this.

21:36 - Gil looks scared here. A rare look for him. Also - really makes me wish I could’ve seen the moment when the story behind the girl in the box was explained to Dani and JT. 

22:30 - Look at Malcolm’s eyes. He looks haunted. Broken. Scared. I’m genuinely surprised he didn’t descend into a full blown panic attack. He looked really close to one.

22:50 - This conversation between Malcolm and Gil is everything. You can tell that Gil feels guilty - like he might’ve worsened Malcolm’s trauma. You can tell that Gil is also concerned about Malcolm. But check out the way Gil is speaking to Malcolm. Gil is so honest with Malcolm yet simultaneously reassuring. I respect that. 

24:38 - The moment Malcolm decides that his need for answers is greater than his wellbeing. He could’ve called Gil right here. He could’ve walked away and waited for backup. But he didn’t because knowing the truth is more important to him than his physical health. That’s genuinely concerning. This is a passively suicidal act.

25:34 - “You even smell like him.” This line has always struck me as bizarre. What exactly is John referring to? Does Malcolm smell like fear? Or like desperation mixed with determination? Is that how he smells like Martin? Because I promise you Jessica Whitly would lose her mind if Malcolm was wearing the same cologne his father used to wear. If Malcolm smelled like Martin due to his personal hygiene products I’m sure Jessica would’ve put a stop to it. And I’m sure Malcolm would’ve listened to his mother in this instance because he’s so desperate to be nothing like Martin Whitly.

26:21 - This is sad. Malcolm is being honest here. He really believes that he is like his father even though he desperately doesn’t want to be like him. 

27:22 - Gil is pissed. This is peak Dad behaviour. I’m shocked that he didn’t punish Malcolm himself or call Jessica because he knew that her overbearing presence would be  punishment for Malcolm. 

28:23 - Malcolm is spiralling. Look how manic he is. How desperate he is for answers. Look at how much pain he’s in. This whump is thawing my cold, dead soul (also semi-shirtless Tom Payne is attractive).

29:05 - Jin has the appropriate reaction to this. Ainsley does not. If a murder is on the loose you should be at lest mildly concerned for yourself and sympathetic for the victims and their families. Not excited at the prospect of a story.

30:02 - 1. Tom Payne without a shirt is...wow. and 2. He’s using frozen peas as an ice pack...so he does have food in the house? 

30:25 - Yep. When he opens the fridge here you can see he has some other frozen vegetables in the door.

30:27 - This is interesting to me. Malcolm is clearly attracted to Eve and he doesn’t want her to think he’s crazy (even though their first conversation was about how he got high at work) so he hides his pill bottles. When Dani’s come over Malcolm has never hidden his pill bottles from her. Because Malcolm is comfortable with Dani. Just something to think about.

31:00 - Eve said she got Malcolm’s address under “false pretences”.  The only false pretence I can see Jessica giving out Malcolm’s address to Eve is because Eve told her she was going to ask Malcolm out. But the false pretence implies that Eve has no intention of ever dating Malcolm. Huh. Either way, I would’ve really liked to hear that conversation. The one where a drunk Jessica Whitly gives a woman her son’s address because she thinks he’s going to get laid. It’s both upsetting and hilarious that this happened. 

32:15 - Gil looks like exhausted. Holy crap. Why is everyone so worried about Malcolm when Gil is looking like this?!?

33:25 - The acting throughout this entire phone conversation is phenomenal. Tom Payne’s facial expressions really convey Malcolm’s desperation, fear, and determination to get answers. Lou’s tone of voice really conveys Gil’s worry over Malcolm and tired, desperation to solve this case. And Michael Raymond-James’ confident, controlling voice is just the perfect amount of creepy to be a believable killer.

34:40 - Are you telling me that Gil wasn’t hearing this conversation in real time? Why wasn’t the police recording this conversation for evidence? Also how is Malcolm’s cell phone connecting to Gil’s radio? 

35:53 - “Damn it. Ainsley’s there.” This line is beautifully delivered. That is believable big brother concern. This whole sibling conversation is great. I love how they interact. 

36:30 - Can no know in this family follow orders?!? Honestly. Ainsley stay in your room. These Whitly’s really need to learn to listen to the people who want to keep themselves safe. BUT SIDE NOTE: Malcolm’s desperate cries to Ainsley as she runs from the Junkyard Killer are haunting. 

38:21 - THANK YOU JIN. SOMEONE WHO SEES IT MY WAY. AINSLEY DID YOU DIRTY BROTHER.

39:15 - “How’s Ainsley doing?” Love this. I’m so desperate to know the extent of Gil’s relationship with Ainsley. We know that Gil was a big part of Malcolm’s childhood. I want to know how much contact he’s had with Ainsley through the years. 

40:35 - hahaha I love this scene between Jessica and Malcolm. It’s honest, sweet, and sad. You can really see the role that Malcolm put himself in. He’s the self-appointed family protector. He’s probably felt that way most of his life. You can see Jessica’s determination, guilt, and fear. It’s beautiful. 

Ahhhhhh I love this show. Thanks for hanging out Prodigies. 

[hide-the-cutlery]

The Four Horsemen

Today was awful. I felt absolutely manic. I was irritated. I was pissed. I was emotional. I was throwing things around while cleaning. (Side note: if you ever want to add some aggravation to your life, try organizing hangers and putting them neatly into a box. Jesus fucking Christ.) I posted a comment on Facebook that turned volatile, where I ended up calling about 25 random strangers idiots, just because I felt like bickering. Talk about backfiring — it essentially wound up with people just picking on me. I swore out loud, loudly, which I knew would upset my parents. I went to the gas station to smoke a cigarette, and when I got home, my father just happened to be in the hallway in front of my room, no doubt trying to look casual, but with the intent of smelling me to see if I smoked one. I think my mother is frightened of me because I couldn’t contain an explosion of frustration I had when I was trying to talk to her and had to force myself to try to speak in a calm tone. I also think she is judging me because I couldn’t stay awake during the afternoon, mostly due to a medication increase. She flat out told me I’ve been loopy the past few days and that it scares her. It’s equally upsetting that I’m only trying to feel better, but it’s scaring people. I’m still trying to adjust to the increase, and after reading up on the medication, the risks and side effects are scary and just plain suck. I’m already fat enough, I can’t wait to gain more weight. Nothing seems to satiate me; I was contemplating making a bagel a few minutes ago. At 2:30am. It would figure that just as I feel like I’m ready to start dating, even though I’m disgusted with my body, I now get to be even more disgusting and insecure. Fucking hell.

The meds are giving me wild dreams. Last night I dreamt I was Baker acted and learned that the cops had been called on me several times, but had gotten stuck in traffic each time. I know I physically attacked at least one person and stabbed my mother. In my dream, my parents had also moved me out of my room and into another. (This has actually happened in real life, but I knew they were going to make me switch rooms. After being in their house a few months after I got out of the hospital, I was kicked out of my room, which I grew up in, and moved into my sister’s old room. She still had a child’s bed when she moved out. So now I’m 32, sleeping on a child’s bed, in my sister’s room, while she’s off living in her nice apartment and getting a useful degree and thriving without a battle with addiction and her mental health. She’ll probably never end up broke, with a useless degree, living in our parents’ house, like I have been the past 2 years because I can’t fucking take care of myself. Anyway, the reason I was relocated? My mother wanted to keep the “guest” (my) room nice for when guests come. Which has been once in the two years and some months since I’ve been here. And it was my grandparents. Clearly I’m still holding a resentment towards her about that, but I seem to have gone on a tangent — back to my dream.) The rooms in the dream weren’t in a house, but in an apartment arranged like the one I spent my freshman year in, except the shapes and sizes were different. The one my stuff was put into while I was at the mental health facility was very strangely shaped and extremely small. Occupying my old, larger, square-shaped room was a girl I used to work with, who I always hated out of jealousy. She began the same position I held about 3 years after I had been hired. I had been promoted by then, so I technically outranked her, but she was the fucking golden girl in my old office. She could do no wrong. The sad thing is if I wasn’t so jealous of her, we probably could have been friends. We even discovered we had dated two brothers! Within months, she was going to conferences around the country and Canada. I was never sent on a conference — just medical leave. Yes, my old boss actually told me I needed a break, and I had to stop working and go on short-term disability for 6ish weeks. I know she was trying to save my ass, because the quality of my work had slipped so low it was probably a fire-able offense, but really now, how many people are told they can’t work until they get some rest and time to focus on addressing some of the stress and grief they are obviously experiencing? I was even sober at the time. Well, what I mean by “sober” is that I wasn’t drinking. Getting so fucking high on Xanax every day, though, that’s a different story... I was getting drunk again by the time I came back to work.

My dreams are terrifyingly realistic. They usually follow the same storyline: I end up involved with a group of male friends and tend to gravitate towards one. He is usually aloof; I spend time with the rest of them to get closer to him. None of them are real people, but creations of my own, lonely mind. It’s funny, but the dreams usually involve Star Wars or WoW. That, or I dream about my ex or old best friend, who I was in love with from my junior year of high school and well into college. Sometimes they blend into one person, which isn’t that strange. They reminded me a lot of each other, and I’d give anything to have one (or both) of them back into my life. Their family is usually around, and more times than not, they are focused on a girl that is not me. Everything feels so real, and I believe I’ve written before about how, even in the dream, I feel/think it shouldn’t be another goddamn girl. It should be me. Often I will become violent towards the other girl, if given the opportunity. I even experience a sense of betrayal that carries on long beyond the dream and into the reality I am sometimes cursed with upon waking. And, of course, I have drinking dreams. Not so surprisingly, it’s actually not only drinking — I’ve had dreams recently about pills and even coke (which I’ve only done 3-4 times!). I have a friend who sees the same psychiatrist as I do, who told me he can prescribe me something to stop the realistic dreams, but honestly, I don’t want that. The pathetic truth is I like my dreams. It’s a way for me to have the opportunity to interact with people I desperately miss, even if it’s painful on occasion. It’s a way to lash out at people I’m angry with without actually doing so. It’s a way to drink and use (although those dreams are usually a saga of finding and keeping the stuff instead of actually having/using it). It’s a way to escape the life I’ve built and despise.

Sometimes I feel like I only live for other people. When I step back and observe my life, it’s often hard for me to point out something I enjoy or that brings me happiness (besides my kitties), including friend/relationships (unless turning back time was realistic). There are are voids in my heart and soul I fear will never be filled. I know I have people who love me and want to be in my life, and I’m trying to let them come in closer instead of pushing them away. The reality, though, is this: I don’t like my life and feel I could never be content unless I morphed it into my old one. I miss the familiarity of it. I miss days on the couch, just watching tv and chatting with people. I miss having my cats inside with me. I miss being the boss. I miss gaming, cranking up my music as loud as I want. Watching, doing, wearing, fucking, leaving, buying, smoking, drinking, taking whatever/whoever/wherever/whenever I wanted. Being messy. Isolating. Escaping. Again, the brutal truth is that I wanted to go out today. I’m sick of relying on pills so I don’t have to face reality. I hate that I can’t face reality — that everything needs to be tuned down so I can function. As I was looking at my life today, I contemplated for a while what I could change to make it enjoyable. “Happy, joyous, and free.” I couldn’t think of anything, and maybe there is a possibility that it’s simply not comprehendible to me at this point. Maybe I’m just not that far along in my healing/recovery yet, and lord knows I need treatment for having BPD or bipolar disorder or whatever the hell theydecide I have as well as the anxiety, panic disorder, depression, substance abuse problems, OCD tendencies, impulse control issues — they being anyone who takes care of me in some sort of fashion. In other words, all my providers.

They have all told me that I cannot drink ever again because my liver can’t take it. I could be dead in weeks, months, a day, who knows. Regardless of the time, I won’t make it out alive if I decide to go for a trip down memory lane. One of the only times I’ve seen a look of actual concern in my psychiatrist’s eyes (his voice is level, calm, and almost caring, but his eyes betray him) was while he was telling me “you don’t want to die from liver failure”. My primary described to me what would happen as my organs would begin to shut down: unbelievable pain, weakness, fluid swelling my whole body, bleeding out from the veins in my throat, no hope... But I don’t want to go like that — in a hospital, attached to monitors, needles under my skin, aides, nurses, doctors, family all shuffling in and out, everyone knowing by my yellow eyes and skin that I did it all to myself. Imagine the shame! No, I’d rather it be like being found on the bathroom floor. I feel like I wouldn’t be missing a lot. How much is there to miss in a world you can’t face? In a reality where you can’t think of a single possible thing to, not even realistically, but hypothetically change to make you happy? (Besides the time thing, or undoing a hell of a lot of bad memories from awful, unfair experiences). Maybe it’s my disease, as they call it, talking. Maybe it’s just something I’ll have to experience instead of trying to imagine. Maybe it’s a lot of things, but all I can possibly fathom, a life beyond my wildest dreams, doesn’t add up to the responsibility I imagine I have to stick around for others. Sometimes, all I feel is Terror, Bewilderment, Frustration, and Despair. No one knows those feelings like I do, or I should say no one experiences them like I do. My feelings are intense — too intense, I’ve been told by therapists. So yeah, Terror, Bewilderment, Frustration, and Despair push me to wanting to go out so badly sometimes. One last hurrah, and then just end it, but I couldn’t live with the guilt I’d feel. What if it persisted through death? I couldn’t handle that, but ha, I’d be shit out of luck at that point. I suppose I should note that these intense feelings were much more present earlier, but now all I feel is grogginess. It’s 4:40am. I think I’ll read this over once, even though I know it’s confusing, choppy, and just bad, and then try for some sleep. I know my dream self has people she’s waiting to see.