1999 - Tumblr Posts
Arnold Vosloo as Imhotep in The Mummy (1999) and The Mummy Returns (2001)
1999, part four - final part!
oh my gosh. final part and what a surprise, she's a long one again💀💀ive loved writing this silly little series so so much and i love all of you very very much🫶🏽🫶🏽🫶🏽please give me requests on what to write next bc my mind is completely blank rn, all i can think of is the cold war and bolsheviks from my history revison and i dont think they would make v good fics🤡🤡
lmk what you think of this part and your fav moments, enjoy!!
warnings: tiny angst, mostly fluff, swearing
conrad fisher masterlist
masterlist
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conrad’s pov
Since Y/n is unable to hold a phone herself, I'm tasked with a lot, but I didn't fully realize the worry of her family until she had me working through each task with her.
No wonder she’s overwhelmed. The number of texts from Laurel, Mom, Belly, Jere and Steven she has to sift through in a given hour would drive anyone insane.
Or maybe I'm just going crazy by sitting this close to her. The smell of her coconut soap is permanently ingrained into my memory as she sits flush against me, pointing at different texts with her uninjured hand.
I can tell her nerves grow stronger as the Uber near the hospital.
Her knees bounce up and down as she dictates message after message I need to send, confusing me more and more with every word.
The work doesn't stop there. After we check in, a nurse hands us a clipboard filled with pages of information that need to be filled out. Y/n stares at it like it might catch on fire at any moment.
"Here." I pass it to her.
Her eyes shift toward the exit. "Will you help me please? I can't write like this." Her voice drops to a barely audible whisper.
"Okay. Tell me your answers and I'll write them down."
Her throat bobs as she scans the first line. It takes her far longer than necessary to read the first question.
"Do you mind reading the questions aloud for me? I'm too stressed to concentrate right now." Her overcompensating smile irritates me.
"Are you sure? Some of the questions are probably personal."
Don't be a dick. Just do what she says.
"I don't care.”
The rigid way she sits in her chair says the complete opposite.
She seems to be one minute away from breaking down, so I concede. I sigh as I grab the pen and get started on the first question. The paperwork doesn't take us as long as I anticipated, so Y/n and I sit together in silence. She stares at the exit longingly.
The way her eyes dart around the room as she gnaws on her bottom lip makes me feel merciful enough to save her from the anxiety eating her up inside.
“If it's any consolation, I hate hospitals too."
Her head swings toward the direction of my voice.
"Yeah?"
I nod. "Haven't been to one since…"
"I know." she says as she sees my chest heaves as I remember the millions of times we’ve been here before.
I keep my eyes focused on the soundless television playing in one corner.
Her good hand clasps onto mine and gives it a squeeze. I'm grateful she understands me enough not to ask any other questions. The idea of offering another raw part of myself feels like a betrayal of the years I've spent carefully developing a certain kind of persona.
"I hate them too." Her voice cracks.
"Why?"
She stares down at her swollen hand. “My dad…” She pauses, and I give her hand a reassuring squeeze like she gave me. "Let's just say mom ended up in the ER a couple of times for being clumsy."
I take a deep breath to stave off the anger bubbling beneath the surface. "And did you have issues with being clumsy?" If she says yes, I swear to God two men will end up floating in the Chicago River tonight.
She shakes her head rather aggressively. "No. No." My rapid heart rate can be heard through my ears. "If you were, you can tell me." While I can't promise I won't do anything about it, I can promise to make him hurt. A lot. With sulfuric acid or something, those pre-med studies are starting to come in handy now.
The overwhelming sense of protectiveness hits me hard, and I don't shy away from it. There is nothing I hate more than men who use their fists against innocent women and children.
"It never got to that point. Suze made sure of it." she says with a small smile.
"How?"
"She caught onto the signs and interfered before things got bad. Used her savings from my grandpa's life insurance policy to help Mom get a divorce and start a new life." A tear slips down her face, and I can't stand the sight of it.
I brush it away with the pad of my thumb, but the damp trail still lingers. A driving force inside of me wants to erase the sad look on her face. "Did her plan also happen to include a jug of sulfuric acid?"
She forces out a laugh. "I think concrete shoes were more in style back then."
I fake shudder. "Remind me to never make mom angry again."
"Forget her, you'd have to deal with me." She holds up her injured hand like a war trophy.
"I'm absolutely terrified."
"Miss Y/n?" a nurse calls out.
Y/n doesn't move at the sound of her name.
"That's you." I place my hand on her thigh and give it a squeeze.
She sucks in a deep breath as she stares down at my hand.
Her chair nearly tumbles behind her as she bolts out of the seat, throwing her one good hand up in the air. "I'm here!"
The nurse leads us through the emergency room bay.
Individual beds line the wall, each area divided by a paper curtain.
The empty bed meant for Y/n is unacceptable. Between the person retching behind one partition and the individual on the other side hacking up their lung, I refuse to let her be seen here.
"I'd like my…my friend, to be taken care of in a private suite," I speak up. I know I sound snotty right now but honestly, I’ll be damned if I let her already horrible hospital experience get any worse.
The nurse grimaces as her gaze licks across my body. "This is a hospital. Not the Ritz. Take a seat and wait for the doctor like everyone else."
Y/n hops on the bed without any complaint, and I'm tempted to grab her and go elsewhere. The nurse doesn't seem the least bit bothered by all the noise happening around us as she checks Y/n’s vitals and asks some routine questions.
Y/n answers each one while chewing her bottom lip raw. This atmosphere couldn't put anyone at ease, least of all her.
The nurse hangs the clipboard at the foot of the bed, and I decide to try again.
"I'll pay whatever it takes to have her seen somewhere quieter. Money is no object."
The nurse only replies by shutting the paper curtain in my face.
Y/n laughs while I stare at the curtain, dumbfounded to be treated like this.
"You find this funny?"
She nods, her eyes alight for the first time all night. "Did you see her face when you said money is no object? I think if she didn't put the clipboard away, she would have slapped your face with it."
"It's not my fault she isn't accustomed to how things are done in the real world."
"Wake up baby. You're living in the real world." She waves around our room.
"It's terrifying." I say, looking away so she couldn’t see the blush that appeared on my face at the nickname.
"Come here. I'II make it better." Y/n pats the bed.
Doubtful, but I'm a glutton for giving her what she wants lately. Paper crinkles as I sit next to her. I take up most of the bed, giving her little room to get away from me. My thigh brushes against hers. She tries to scoot away, but there isn't enough space.
“Isn’t this cozy?" she quips.
I give her a small smile before she asks, “Hey! Let me see your tattoo.”
God I’d forgotten all about them. I move the collar of my shirt to show the two small ivy leaves we’d gotten. She gasps and gently touches my skin, “Oh my gosh it’s so pretty Connie.” she stares at it for a moment before I ask to see hers.
She lifts up her shirt on the side, exposing her ribcage and the two matching leaves.
“I can’t believe you agreed to get a Taylor Swift referenced tattoo with me Con.” she says as I admire the tattoo for a bit.
I smile until saying, “Hey I might be quiet and mopey but at least I have good taste in music.”
She softly smiles at me before eyeing the IV bag with horror before checking out the exit.
"What’s wrong?”
She leans closer to me and whispers, "Is now a bad time to admit I pass out whenever someone tries to stick a needle in me?"
My lips lift at the corners. I don't know why I find the idea hilarious, given her ability to watch eight consecutive hours of true crime documentaries without so much as flinching.
"You're afraid of needles?"
She sputters. "No. I'm not afraid. It just happens to be a bodily reaction I can't control."
“That's good then because the nurse needs to set you up with that IV when she comes back."
“No! Don't tell me that! I thought she was one of the good ones.”
I nod, pressing my lips together to prevent myself from laughing.
"She lied to me!" She bolts from the seat and would have tripped over her own heels if I didn't reach out and catch her.
*Careful." I place her back on the bed and decide to stand guard in case she gets any ideas to flee the scene.
Her eyes fit from me to the gap between two curtains, as if she is thinking how she can get past me.
"I'm joking.”
She scans my face for the truth before she slaps my shoulder with her good hand. "Asshole! I believed you!"
Laughter explodes out of me like a bomb, stunning her.
“Did you just laugh?”
"No."
“Yes." Someone calls out from the other side of the curtain.
“Now, do you mind shutting up? Some of us are trying to get some sleep over here after having our stomach pumped."
Fuck this place and the people in here. "We're leaving."
"Not so fast. You can't leave before I check you out." The doctor strolls in and points at the bed with his clipboard.
Y/n remains tight-lipped as the doctor checks her chart. He asks her some questions about how she got hurt, all while staring me up and down like I'm the person she was trying to injure. She is taken away for a few scans, and my breathing doesn't return to normal until the nurse brings her back.
That should be my first sign that things are getting out of hand on my end. I'm inching closer to an emotional minefield without any kind of map, only one wrong step away from exploding.
The doctor checks the scans. "It looks like you have a boxer's fracture."
Her face brightens. "That sounds badass."
I glare at her. "Calm down, Muhammad Ali. I wouldn't count today as a victory by any means."
The doctor's eyes lighten. "Next time, avoid any initial contact on the fourth and fifth knuckles."
"Please don't encourage her."
The doctor shakes his head with a laugh before giving Y/n a detailed set of instructions regarding the healing time. I'm skeptical about the whole visit and, given the setting, doubtful about the level of care. I'll be damned if Y/n sustains permanent injuries because of Dean. My chest tightens at the idea.
“Great Thanks, Doc!" She hops off the bed, but I hold my arm out, stopping her
"I’d like a second opinion." The command bursts out of me without any rhyme or reason. Deep down, I know a boxer's fracture isn't the worst thing that could have happened. But things aren't right in my head where Y/n is concerned. At least not anymore.
Both of the doctor's eyebrows arch. "For a small fracture?"
"Don't mind him. He tends to be a bit overbearing." She shoots me a look as if I'm the crazy one out of the two of us.
"Okay..." the doctor says.
Maybe I am losing it because why else would I care?
You hate it when she cries.
You wouldn't mind murdering someone who hurt her.
You took her to the hospital even though you despise them with every fibre of your being.
The signs all point to one thing: our situation is quickly crumbling, and I'm the only one to blame.
Y/n interrupts my thoughts. "I'll be sure to wear the brace for a few weeks and avoid any kind of activities that could aggravate the injury."
"Perfect. And don't forget to schedule a follow-up visit with your physician. "The doctor gives me one last look before handing Y/n the discharge paperwork. "Nice meeting you."
"Will you help me with this?" She holds out the clipboard with her left hand as the doctor leaves.
I grab it from her and fill it out.
She checks the time on her phone. "Well, at least that didn't take as long as I thought it would. I'm sure you're dying to get back home."
That's the scary thing. I didn't think about anything or anyone once during our entire time here because making sure she was taken care of was my only concern. I've spent the past seventeen years of my life thinking solely about my future, and all it took was one girl to make me completely forget about my responsibilities for a few hours.
As if that doesn't scare me enough, it only takes one glance at her makeshift brace to make my blood burn hot under my skin. I know exactly why her injury angers me more than anything else.
It's the same reason I feel the urge to push Jere away from her whenever he gets too close or the way I unexplainably need to see her whenever she is out of my sight for longer than a few hours.
You’re in love with her.
Fuck.
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y/n’s pov
We’re in an Uber on the way home, sitting in comfortable silence until Conrad breaks it.
“Why’d you get with Dean anyway?” My stomach doubles over.
Comfortable silence is so overrated.
I sigh. I’ve been dreading this question for ages now.
“I don’t know.” I answer vaguely.
Conrad gives me a puzzled look, “What do you mean you don't know? You must’ve had a reason.”
His restlessness gets me more agitated.
“I don’t know Conrad. I don’t know why I got with him, I don’t know why I was waiting on you for so long either.” I look out the window as the car stops in front of the house.
“What? What do you mean?” he says as I get out the car and speed up to the front door, taking the keys out of my pocket and refusing to carry on with this conversation anymore.
Conrad keeps yelling after me as he follows me upstairs to my room, both of us trying to ignore everyone else who joined Conrad and are trying to ask their own questions.
I slam my door shut and collapse on my bed hearing Conrad trying to calm everyone down and telling them everything that's happened until he asks them all to give me some space for now.
I cry in the silence as I hear everyone leaving from outside the door until it opens.
“Hey.”
Steven. Thank God.
“Steve…” I say sniffling.
He looks at me with a sad smile before sitting on the bed with me and taking me in his arms.
“Con told us everything,” he says after a few minutes of holding me, “did you really get a boxer's fracture?”
I laugh in tears before showing him my hand and saying, “You should see the other guy.”
Steven and I laugh together before going back to the silence as he hugs me.
“He really cares about you, you know.”
“No he doesn’t. He hates me. I yelled at him and now I’m crying here on my bed like an idiot.”
“Did he say anything to you?” Steven looks down at me.
I shake my head before saying, “He asked why I got with Dean.”
“Oh. That’s not too bad.”
“No it’s not.”
“Then why are you so upset?”
“Because I’ve been waiting for Conrad for so long and I’m just sick and tired of always being there to help him get over his breakups when he’d be so much better off with me. I know I sound selfish and none of my reasons are justified but I just thought that after everything we’ve been through together, he’d maybe like me just a little bit.”
Steven hugs me again and softly says, “He does.”
After that almost everyone but Conrad came in to check up on me and make sure I was okay, making me feel even more guilty about being all emotional like this. It’s not until Susannah’s holding me and whispering sweet nothings that my eyes start to feel heavy.
I think I fell asleep after that, I don’t remember much except waking up to the sun shining its very unwelcome face in my eyes.
I step out of my room after freshening up and I’m about to make my way to the kitchen for food until I’m stopped by something in the hallway.
Or should I say someone.
“Conrad,” I bend down and stroke his hair out of his face, “Conrad wake up.” I say gently.
He stirs for a minute before sitting up and taking my hands in his.
“Have you been out here all night?” I ask.
“Yes.” he says in a raspy voice.
God that voice would make my knees give out if I wasn’t already on the floor with him.
“Why?”
“I need to talk to you.”
I sigh before he interrupts me, “Listen, I heard everything you said to Steven last night and I know I shouldn’t have and I was eavesdropping but I’m sorry it was by accident. And I know I don’t deserve any more of your time…I’ve already wasted a lot of it but just hear me out for ten minutes.”
“No.” I try to get out of his grasp.
“Stop fighting and give me ten minutes.”
“No way.”
“Nine then.”
“Five.”
“Eight and a half.”
“Six.”
“Seven.”
I pause, knowing that he won’t let me go anywhere before I hear him out.
“You don’t deserve seven seconds, let alone seven minutes of my time.”
“How about seven words then?”
I laugh. “I’d like to see you try.”
“I am falling in love with you.”
I blink up at him. Either I am still sleeping or I must have not heard him correctly because there is no way Conrad Fisher just admitted that he is falling in love with me.
Absolutely no fucking way.
Right?
I squeeze my eyes shut as if that can erase the words from my memory.
"You're joking.
"I'm not."
"This is just another part of your game." I try to push him away, but he doesn't budge.
"It stopped being a game for me a long time ago."
"You're lying."
His brows pull together. "Ask me why I hate when people touch my bookshelf."
"Are you serious right now? What does that have to do with any of this?" I think back to his bookshelf he won’t let any of the others go near but loves to let me organise and re-organise each year.
"Because I did it for you."
"I'm sorry, what?"
"I read somewhere online that organising objects like books and things is good for people with anxiety, because then they can feel in control of something and know exactly what to expect especially if things are the same as they've predicted all the time. You love reading too, so I changed it. Bought all the books you like to read so that you’d stay and read with me more often. I forced everyone else out of my room and especially away from that bookshelf. All because I wanted to help you."
Emotions clog my throat, preventing my ability to reply.
What can I possibly say that could compare to that?
Conrad doesn't give me an option as he continues. "Want to know why I kept this plant you got me?" he says pointing to the small green cactus with “Don’t be a prick” written on the pot that we could see looking into his room from the hallway.
I nod.
"Because it was the first time someone got me a present that made me laugh."
If hearts could melt into puddles, mine would be liquified right about now.
I take a deep breath.
Remember what he did.
“Con that doesn't change anything you still ignored me for a whole year. Every time I tried to call you or text you, you’d just leave me on read or decline, and now you’re telling me you love me? Who does that?"
"Someone who doesn't understand the first thing about loving someone, but is willing to try if you give me a chance."
"You want me to give you a chance after everything? Do you think I'm stupid?"
He winces, and a bit of my anger fades away at his vulnerability.
"Intelligence has nothing to do with this."
"Easy for you to say when you're not the one who feels like a fool."
"Really? Because based on your reaction today, I'm feeling pretty damn foolish for ever admitting that I'm falling in love with you." He gets up off the floor, leaving me feeling chilled to the bone.
"Con..." I reach out, but he takes a step back.
My eyes sting from his rejection. It hurts.
“I’m not asking you to love me back. I don't expect that and I'm not sure if I ever will because I'm the furthest thing for lovable. I'm selfish, and rude, and don't know the first thing about being in a proper relationship with someone. But that doesn't mean I’m not willing to try for you if you let me."
How am I supposed to be angry at him when he thinks he is unlovable?
A pain rips through my chest at the thought of him talking about himself this way.
I get up off the floor and walk straight into his chest. His arms quickly wrap themselves around my waist, holding me even tighter.
"Just because you make selfish choices doesn't mean you're a selfish person. At least not completely."
This boy had been there for Belly, Steven, me and Jere for years without any kind of payback, especially when Susannah was going through her cancer and despite feeling an immense amount of pain himself, he shoved all his emotions aside so that he could be there for us. For me. If that isn't a selfless sacrifice, I don't know what is.
"Your logic is half-baked at best."
"So is yours, seeing as you called yourself unlovable."
His body tenses. "I'm stating facts."
"I don't know what bullshit your father told you over the years, but it's not true. Your brother loves you."
"He’s obligated to."
"No one is obligated to love someone else. Blood or not."
He takes a deep breath. "You're right."
I smile up at him. "I could get used to hearing those words."
He reaches up and cups my cheek. "Give me a chance and I'll tell you them every single day."
I sigh and look away. "I don't know.”
"Tell me what's stopping you."
"You don't do relationships."
“Good thing our feelings lead us here rather than our minds, and mine are willing to try then."
I avoid his penetrating gaze. "What if my feelings are telling me to run?”
“It's cute you think you can outrun me, but I'll give you a head start just to make things interesting." he smiles down at me.
"Do you always have an answer for everything?"
"Not for the one that matters most." The way he looks at me stirs up something deep inside of me.
Longing. I want to give him a chance, regardless of the potential fallout.
You might get hurt.
I might, but I might miss out on something special because I’m too afraid of the what ifs. I'm done being that person. Even if it means getting hurt, I'd rather try and fail than never try at all.
I stand on the tips of my toes and press my lips against his.
He holds me tight against his chest, as if he is afraid of letting me go.
I pull away, only to clasp onto his chin. "This could be a disaster, but I'm willing to try."
He shuts me up by pushing his lips against mine, sealing our new deal. The way he kisses me is different than any time before. He cups my face with the palms of his hands as his lips mold against mine, teasing me until I feel dizzy. His thumb brushes across my cheek back and forth, and heat rushes down my spine straight to my belly. He makes me feel cherished. Protected.
Loved in a way that makes me never want to come back down to reality.
I could spend forever being kissed like this and still feel like it isn't enough. While Conrad might not be the best with words, his kiss says it all.
He is falling in love with me. And I’m falling in love with him. No translation necessary.
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ahh i cant believe its finished omg😔💔...
anyways, onto the next one😍🙏
again please lmk what you think of this and please give me requests on what to do next!!
i just wanna go back
back to 1999
take a ride to my old neighborhood
Hakuchi (1999), Macoto Tezuka
Les enfants qui aiment le mécanique et les travaux publics
Encre de chine à la plume 13 x 14 cm ~ 1999 ~ Baldo
CHAUSES ET OTRES
Dessins de Baldo, textes d’Étienne Cornevin
Editions des 4 Mers 1999
https://fr.wikipedia.org/wiki/Les_4_mers