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fear-before-valor · 3 years

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AU Ficlet: Jim, who was raised by the Order from the age of five, attends Arcadia Oaks High, for his first day of human high school. Weird things happen in Arcadia, though, and his appearance seems to be one such weird thing to the residents in this small, strange town...

Aka: How an Order-raised Jim met Toby and Claire

Words: 2939 II Warnings: none II ok to rb --

Jim dropped his backpack at the empty desk next to one Tobias Domzalski’s, one of the only people at school who’d been properly friendly to him so far. It was Jim’s first day of mortal high school, and he’d been vetted mercilessly by every student group but Tobias’s, though he was beginning to suspect that said group consisted of only Tobias.

Of course, Jim had been screening his peers right back, but it was still exhausting. He thought he’d been ready after the Order’s… extensive lessons on humanity, and how to fit in with the mortals like himself, but already, everything he’d done felt like it must have been a social faux pas of some kind.

Act quiet around the quiet kids? Then no one speaks, until the silence grows so long that it’s awkward, and starting up a conversation makes it feel painfully forced. So, okay, maybe find some louder kids and try to blend in with them. Except, they start to grow obnoxious, and at some point, the headache simply stops being worth it.

Jim wasn’t even going to dare try and bond with the overly studious; he wasn’t here to vie for valedictorian, nor was he all that interested in making grades that separated him from the pack. Not to mention, he much preferred whatever lessons the Order could teach him anyway. They were very practical things, going over philosophy, strategy, combat, computations. He was already conversational in Bellroc and Skrael’s original languages, and though he knew Spanish would be equally valuable, the Spanish teacher seemed… intense, in a way that Bellroc and Skrael, who could likewise be rigorous sometimes, were not.

In fact, the only class he was indeed eager to take was history—and, okay, perhaps physical education didn’t sound horrendous, so long as he was careful about holding back in certain areas—because while he could learn plenty of history from his very ancient guardians, to hear of human history from the mouths of humans, like himself… it sounded unique, in a way that he hoped was amenable, at the very least, if not genuinely interesting or entertaining.

As he sat down in the chair beside Tobias, the boy seemed to light up, beaming over at Jim, a reaction that he hadn’t expected from his peer. He’d thought he’d rather botched his first conversation with Tobias in homeroom that morning, as he hadn’t known anything about anything that Tobias had referenced (what on earth was Gun Robot?). But, evidently, he must have done something well—or at least, acceptably— because Tobias was leaning over and excitedly holding out his hand to show Jim something which clattered in his palm as he moved. Politely, Jim glanced over to see what it was, and—oh.

Oh no.

That was definitely the remains of a troll.

Tobias was holding out small, grey pebbles for him to see, on which Jim could just make out hints of tattoos that had been etched into the troll while they were alive.

Holding back his mild panic, he gave a tight smile and a nod, as his classmate diagnosed them incorrectly as gneiss—which, admittedly, Jim thought wasn’t a bad guess, really. It’s not like the other boy had any reason to think that the rocks he was holding were anything but an average metamorphic stone.

Tobias was looking to Jim for a response, though, so he opened his mouth to speak, breathing in—

—magic.

Jim froze once more. The distinct tingle of magic had just washed over his senses, keen and undeniable, unlike anything else he’d felt that day.

It was raw, underdeveloped, not yet bolstered by the right teacher, but it was there, and it spoke in tones of purple, pulsing with potential.

Jim was no wizard himself, much preferring combat to the arcane arts, having not a strong penchant for it or its intricacies and delicate, temperamental nature, but even still, he’d been raised with the three most powerful magic-users in the known world. They’d taught him from youth how to recognize when magic was present, how to glean as many clues as he possibly could about it, or who might have cast it, might be walking in it, based on its style and scent, its intensity, or its intentionality. He wasn’t quite the best at sensing the finer details, nor could he find it when it was masked, but when it was open, unhidden, he could feel it like a mild electric shock that one might get when touching a door handle in dry weather; he could sense it like the faint scent of ozone during a storm, or like a prickle on the hairs on the back of his neck, when lightning was about to strike.

What’s going on? He thought, as he turned his head in the direction of the epicenter of the magic. First, there’s troll remains in the hands of a classmate with the same schedule as him, and then there’s—the girl, there. The girl with the blue streak in her hair.

The witch.

She’d caught him staring, as she set her books down on a desk in the front row, a couple columns over from his. Beside her plopped down two more girls—her friends, Jim noted, as they chattered familiarly, cheerfully.

The girl gave him an awkward smile, then, and Jim realized that he must have been staring for a few moments too long, so he rapidly flicked his eyes back to the surface of his own desk, trying not to think about the flush he could feel splash across the back of his neck, or the tips of his ears.

Tobias did not grant him such grace.

“Ooh,” he grinned, smug as a cat in a sunbeam. “That’s Claire Nuñez. President of the drama club, valedictorian candidate, great actress. She’s tied with Seamus Johnson and Shannon Longhannon for top of the class right now, I heard. She’s wicked smart, and—Jim?” Tobias huffed, “Are you paying attention to me?”

Jim’s eyes darted back to his new friend, from where they’d been briefly studying Claire Nuñez’s back, trying to get a more in-depth read on her arcana. He nodded distractedly. “Yeah, yeah, smart, a president; I heard you.”

Tobias sighed, shaking his head. “Jim.”

Jim raised an eyebrow, indicating that he was listening.

“She’s out of your league.” He deadpanned. “She’s super popular, and you’re, no offense, definitely not.”

Jim shot Tobias a confused look, brow furrowing. “What do you mean?”

The boy stared openly at Jim. “What do you mean, ‘what do you mean’? Do you really not— Oh my god.”

Jim blinked. “What?”

Tobias shook his head. “Jim, you’ve kinda… scared a lot of the people in our class today. They don’t know what to think about you. You’re like a giant question mark! No one even knows where you came from—”

“Ohio.” Jim recited his cover story, which Skrael had helped him pick the night previous. They’d chosen a city that started with a c… right. “Columbus, Ohio.”

Tobias shot him a deadpan look. “Okay, fine, Jim Lake from Columbus, Ohio. Why’d you suddenly move to Arcadia, then? Why not L.A.? Why not Burbank?”

Jim frowned. “Do you interrogate every newcomer like this? My parents got a good job opportunity here.” He held up one hand, “And before you ask—real estate.”

“Oh yeah? How come I haven’t seen them put up ads, then?” Tobias crossed his arms. “I’m just saying, dude; I think you’re cool, but you freak a lot of people out with that brooding, silent thing you do.”

Jim snorted. “I do what?”

“Y’know—”

“No, I don’t know—”

“You act, like, all silent and mysterious when people try to talk to you.” Tobias shrugged. “I don’t think it’s a bad thing, but some people don’t seem as ready to brush it off as me. I’m only telling you so that you can make more friends here.”

“Well, I have you, don’t I?” Jim’s head canted.

Tobias blinked, floundering at that. “Well—y…yeah, I guess so, but—”

“I mean, we are friends, aren’t we?”

It was Tobias’s turn to go a bit pink, shaking his head in bewilderment. “If you want, yeah, but—”

“Then there we go. I have a friend.” Jim smiled.

Tobias tried to protest, “But—” only to find himself cut off as Mr. Strickler strode into the classroom at that moment, placing a leather briefcase on his desk with a decisive thump. Cacophonous voices incrementally petered out, as attentive heads turned to the front of the classroom, where Mr. Strickler had pulled out a stack of syllabi, handing them to the student nearest the door, with the instructions to “take one and pass them,” spoken precisely to the class.

Tobias looked like he wanted to say something when Strickler turned his back to write his name on the chalkboard, but Jim shushed him from the corner of his mouth, opening a fresh, blank notebook as he did so. This was the only class he’d bothered to buy a separate notebook for, and, to be frank, was the only class he’d even intended to take notes in at all.

Tobias looked chagrined, but not angry, as he rolled his eyes and went to fetch a pencil from his own bag. Might as well have something to do with his idle hands for the next hour.

—

As his first day was winding to close, Jim had to admit, having a friend at school did end up making it a little easier.

The rest of his time there had passed largely unremarkably, since a rather thrilling start to the history curriculum. Jim’s hand had shot up just as much as the apparent reigning top of the sophomore class, one Miss Claire Nuñez’s, had— a fact which had, according to Tobias, already begun to percolate across campus.

The lesson had only briefly covered the basics of ancient Rome, going over a bit of easy, more widely known trivia, to see what the class already knew about their oncoming first unit, but, nonetheless, Jim had been eager to jump in, to talk almost directly to Mr. Strickler, going back and forth in the form of a discussion. He’d spoken quietly, quickly, and he’d felt the eyes of his peers glued to his desk, but had ignored the sensation altogether, in favor of listening to what his teacher had to say about aqueducts, instead.

When the hour had finally come to an end, in fact, he’d packed up slowly, most of his classmates abandoning the room as quickly as they could—the lunch period was about to begin—though Tobias was kind enough to wait for him. As such, Tobias was the only other person present to hear Mr. Strickler stop Jim after class, paying a brief compliment to his performance that day, and accompanying his words with a poster for the history club. Jim didn’t think his furtive smile had gone entirely missed by the teacher, but as they’d exited into the now mostly empty hallway, he forgot to worry about it further, as Tobias wasted no time in asking him how the heck his new friend knew so much about history already?

Jim had shrugged it off, saying that it was his favorite subject; and besides, didn’t Tobias— “Seriously, dude, it’s Toby, by the way”— know more about geology than anyone else in their class? The compliment had made Tobias—Toby— preen, and he’d promptly dropped the topic, instead launching into an enthusiastic lecture meant to coach Jim through the cafeteria process. Jim, who had tried to jump in to say that he’d heard this at orientation the week prior, but Toby had shot him an appalled look at that, swiftly informing him that orientation did nothing to help the social side of things. Sure, he knew the motions, but did he know how to do them without standing out in the crowd? Absolutely not—in fact, the thought was almost laughable, according to Toby.

So, Jim had grinned, followed Toby’s lead, and had just barely survived the ever-important lunch line waltz.

The rest of the day had passed mostly the same way, in the end. Toby, having warmed up to Jim, took him through the whole rest of the day, guiding him through the intricacies of Arcadia Oaks High, and by the time the final bell was ringing, Jim almost felt like a normal student. Some of his peers had even started waving to him in the hallways; he’d broken the ice, after all.

Well. He’d thought so, until Toby had said goodbye, peddling away on his bike toward home, leaving Jim alone in the courtyard by the bustling lockers, surrounded by students eager to either go home, as Toby had, or to dive into after-school clubs and sports.

Jim opted to take his time, though, to enjoy the Southern California sun, as he strolled casually across the campus, toward the front of the school grounds.

As he rounded the corner, though, intending to head toward the Arcadia Oaks sign, where he’d stop and shoot off a text to the Order that his first day had gone well, and that he’d be home soon, he felt a tap on his shoulder, instead, and heard a throat being cleared behind him.

He knew who it was before he even turned to face her; her magic had given her away as soon as she’d reached a hand for him.

Despite this, Jim whirled as if she’d caught him by surprise, schooling his features into something startled but friendly, relaxing his shoulders as a polite smile crossed his face, upon seeing her. “Oh, hey. Sorry, I wasn’t expecting—” he rethought his words, shaking his head. “Never mind. …It’s, ‘Claire,’ right?”

She nodded, returning his smile. “Yeah! And you’re ‘Jim Lake’, hm?”

Something about the way she asked that question sent up a warning bell in the back of Jim’s mind, but he tried not to look unsettled; it was probably just nerves.

“Yup; just Jim is fine, though.” He added with a casual laugh.

Claire tilted her head, continuing. “So, you’re quite the history buff, huh?”

Jim’s hands dropped to his pockets, as he glanced at his shoes, then back up to her. “Uh, yeah, I guess so.”

“You guess?” She teased. “You were on fire in class today.” She lifted her chin, to look at him head on. “Do I need to worry about you unseating me, Jim Lake from Columbus, Ohio?”

Jim snorted, shaking his head. “No, no; it’s not like that. History’s just a hobby.”

“Pretty intense hobby, if you know half as much as you seem like you do.” She raised an eyebrow at him.

Jim grinned. “Intense? Like being the president of drama club, the vice president of debate, and the supposed shoe-in for the lead in the play this fall?” he recited, much to Claire’s surprise, who shot him an impressed look.

“Huh. You sure do pay attention, don’t you?”

He glanced around, making it a leisurely movement, concealing the way he was searching for anyone who could overhear, before his eyes met hers again, as he said, “Only to certain people.”

Claire blinked, cheeks reddening, mistaking his meaning. “Oh, yeah? What kinds of people?”

Jim rolled the dice. “Well, people who seem nice, or kind, who I could make friends with. People who do things I wanna do, too, so I can have an ‘in’. Like clubs, and things.” he clarified.

“And, uh…” his voice grew hushed, “Magic-users in the human world.”

Claire’s face fell. “What was that last one?” Her nose scrunched with the skeptical look that overtook her features.

Jim’s eyes darted to look for an exit, realizing coldly—fearfully— that he had grossly miscalculated.

“Uh…” Stupid. He chided himself. Think of a lie before you go backing yourself into a corner. Skrael would be disappointed in him if he were here.

“Did you just say ‘the human world’ like you… aren’t human?” She stared at him suspiciously.

Jim blinked. “What? No. I’m human. Of course I’m human.” He gave a strained laugh. “What else would I be?”

“…Someone who thinks they aren’t?” Claire’s brow furrowed.

“It was a rhetor- well. I mean, I guess that’s true. But I’m not!” He smiled weakly, and then froze for a split-second, rapidly adding, “Someone who thinks they aren’t human! I know I’m human!”

Claire’s eyes shot to the street, where, to her poorly hidden relief, her dad had just pulled up to the curb, there to pick her up. “…Right. Well, Jim Lake from Cleveland, Ohio, my dad’s here, so I need to go, but this has been… interesting.”

Jim nodded rapidly, shooting her one more smile— a sheepish, apologetic one— as he gave her a shy wave. “…Yeah.”

Claire hoisted her backpack onto one shoulder, giving him a half-hearted wave back. “…Bye, Jim.”

“Bye, Claire.”

As she turned to leave, Jim frowned to himself. He wasn’t sure why, but something felt wrong. He supposed it could have been the awkward manner in which he’d acted, but in a flash, he decided that wanted to see her again, just in case that wasn’t it. He couldn’t be too careful.

So, before he missed his chance, he called after her retreating back, “See you around?”

Claire stopped, hand poised on the handle of the passenger side door, freezing there for a heart-pounding pause.

Then, she shot him a look over her shoulder, one of interest, meeting his eyes deliberately. Jim got the sense that he should heed it carefully.

“Yeah. See you around, Jim.”

#(why yes I did mean to have claire say 'cleveland' the second time)#hopefully the next fic in this is how jim becomes the trollhunter but!! for now I hope y'all like this piece!#i may make an au introduction post as well but brain tired from editing so that'll come soon!#trollhunters au #trollhunters fic #trollhunters fanfic #jim lake jr #the arcane order #toa #toa fic #toa au #ok to rb

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elizabethemerald · 3 years

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Joby (Jim x Toby) + First date & first Kiss

Jim laughed, happily clicking his heels as he descended the stairs. Today was going to be a good day. How could it not be? He had a date with Toby today. Their first date. He was so happy he couldn’t keep it inside. His mom was down stairs finishing getting ready, about to leave for work. She smiled at him as he walked past.

“Is today the big day?” She asked. “Are you all ready for your date?”

“Yep, I have everything ready. I’m going to start cooking now, so Tobes and I can have diner before the movie.”

Barbara smiled wider. She had been worried that after everything Jim had gone through with his father leaving he would have a difficult time finding love, but he could see love shining in the eyes of her son as he talked about his date with Toby. She stepped up to him, and straightened the collar of the button down he was wearing.

“I’m sure you’ll have an amazing time. Don’t stay up too late tonight.” She kissed his head and he gave her a tight hug.

Jim said his goodbyes to his mom then moved to the kitchen. This was his domain. He knew where every tool, spice and ingredient was in his kitchen. He set about preparing the meal he was going to share with Toby, each movement of his precise, yet with his standard flair, his joy transmitting easily to his cooking.

This date felt like it had been a long time coming. He could still remember, like it was yesterday the first time he and Toby had kissed. It had been before they were even a couple, just two good friends, but Toby kissed him and filled his mind with Fireworks.

It had been his 14th birthday. He hated his birthdays. Every year it reminded him over and over about his father leaving him. As much as he could pretend on any other day that he doesn’t care, and in truth he hardly does, it was hard to pretend on his birthday.

On top of the memory of his dad packing his bags and leaving without a word, his mom was working. Jim was very understanding of Barbara’s work schedule. He knew she worked hard to support the two of them, and that her work was important.

However being alone on his birthday, with the constant reminders that the day brought, was more than he could handle. He had been spiraling. All of his thoughts circling on that same fear that one day his mom would leave him too. That he would be inevitably abandoned, and that it would be all his fault.

Despite the years of therapy he still, in his darkest moments blamed himself for his father leaving. If he had only been a better child, or if he had been the daughter his dad had wanted, maybe he would have stayed.

Jim couldn’t focus. He could barely breath. The world felt like it was closing in on him, the house dark as a cave despite the sun shining in through the windows. He didn’t even notice the door open, as he pulled at his hair and scrubbed his hands again and again.

Toby marched in with a speaker in his hand and a kazoo in his mouth, a banner held high over his head. He was loudly playing Jim’s favorite song, his volume making up for his lack of tone or tempo.

He froze when he saw Jim curled up on the couch, hands over his ears at the noise, tears running down his face. Speaker, kazoo and banner were all quickly abandoned as Toby ran to his side, wrapping him in a tight hug.

Jim pressed his face into his friend’s shoulder, letting his tears flow freely, knowing that there would be no judgement here. The arms tight around him, Toby’s weight pressing down on him, his hand rubbing soft circles into his back. Slowly, oh so slowly, he felt more grounded, more human, more like Jim.

When he was able to breath without sobbing, Toby meticulously wiped the tears from his eyes. Then he helped Jim rise and get into the kitchen. Cooking helped him deal with his anxiety if it wasn’t too bad.

The rest of that day had passed in a blur, Toby keeping a constant stream of conversation going, even if he had to do most of the talking. His phone softly playing relaxing music the whole time. Between the cooking, the music and Toby’s ministrations Jim was coming back to himself, cracking jokes and flourishing his tools like he usually did with Toby.

After some food was prepared they got ready to watch a movie, Jim now exhausted from the emotional drain had leaned on Toby’s shoulder, before he had hesitantly grabbed Jim’s face, and to the surprise of both of them, pressed a soft kiss to his lips.

Jim could remember the sensation of fireworks perfectly, he had felt like he was floating and flying and his stomach was doing flips all at once. He had kissed Toby back just as passionately.

The knock on the front door startled Jim out of his reprieve about his first kiss. It was time for his first date. He smiled widely, turning the stove to low before straightening his collar again, checking his reflection in the chrome of the coffee maker.

He threw the front door open. His smile somehow growing wider at the sight of Toby on the front step.

Toby had swapped his usual sweater for a nicer one that made him look like a very short professor. In his hands he had a small bouquet of tulips. His smile matched Jim's, showing off his braces.

Jim welcomed him in ushering him into the dining room. Toby put the flowers in a vase while Jim finished plating the food. Then they both put their respective burdens on the table.

The meal was comfortable, as only two friends who have learned to love each other can be comfortable. The conversation is casual, warm and flows freely. They both eat one handed keeping the fingers of their other hand entwined. Jim feels a little sappy, but loves it nonetheless.

After dinner, Jim fetches his Vespa and the two of them ride to the theater to watch the latest gun robot movie, still holding hands the whole time. From first meeting, to first kiss to first date. Jim looked forward to a world of firsts to.be shared with Toby, his brand new boyfriend.

#jim lake jr #toby domzalski #joby #tales of arcadia #writing emerald

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ladykissingfish · 3 years

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Under the Mistletoe with the Akatsuki // Part Five // Kisame

Kisame

Ah, this. He goes to stand under the little plant, feeling mildly apprehensive. Who in their right mind would want to lock lips with someone (some creature) like him? Still, everyone else is a good sport, so he figures he needs to be one, too.

Konan

Kisame blushes fiercely when Konan walks up. He doesn’t have romantic feelings for her, not precisely ... but she is a woman, a beautiful woman, one who is his friend and who doesn’t ever seem frightened or disgusted by a person like Kisame. She approaches him and stands there quietly, her face slightly flushed. He takes a deep mental breath and then bends down (quite a ways, as their height difference is significant), gently cups her cheeks, and gives her a very soft, light kiss on the lips. He has to remind himself to be careful; Konan is no doubt a tough woman but at the same time, she feels so delicate and breakable. He notices, as always, how warm she is, how velvety her skin. When the kiss is over, they both pull back from each other, smiling.

Pein

By this point, Pein (Nagato) is getting a bit tired of this game. He understands that it’s normal for “parents” to kiss their “children” to express love; but he never had that growing up, so this all seems foreign to him. Still, though, as is the case with things such as this, he doesn’t want one child to feel as though he’s being neglected. So he very quickly kisses Kisame’s cheek, and invites him join him later on a walk (the Pein body needs exercise to keep it vital, and Kisame goes for long walks in his spare time).

Deidara

Kisame is one of the first people within the Akatsuki that Deidara made friends with. He reminds the blonde of his own partner Sasori, in that both are older and carry an air of maturity and wisdom. But there’s a big difference between Sasori and Kisame: the shark-man has a surprising (and extremely well-hidden) sense of humor. Unbeknownst to the others, Kisame has actually helped Deidara pull off numerous “pranks”, including super-gluing Hidan’s scythe to the wall while he was out, and “being artistic” with a paintbrush on Tobi’s mask when he was asleep. Deidara walks up to Kisame, and Kisame lifts him off his feet (wondering why everyone around him seems so damn tiny) and plants a smacking kiss on his forehead. When he sets Deidara back down, both burst out laughing, unable to help it. “Your lips are freezing, old man, hm!” “When’s the last time you washed your hair, kid? There’s enough oil in there to fuel an entire village!” They laugh so hard that tears roll down their faces, until eventually Deidara wanders away, still chuckling to himself.

Sasori

Like Pein, he’s grown quite weary of this game. But he rather likes Kisame; there’s only about a four year age difference between the two, and Kisame is a calm, quiet somebody for Sasori to talk to in an organization that often lacks either trait. Kisame bends down to him and Sasori kisses his forehead. He notes the difference in temperature between this one and the other, full humans. As he goes back to his room, he wonders if there’s any possible way he can ask Kisame, without offending him, if he could take a vial of his blood to study. Kisame and his hybrid heritage fascinate Sasori, and when something peaks his interest, he can’t rest until he’s examined it in full. What were his parents like? How does Kisame respond to various human diseases? Would Sasori’s poisons gave the same effect on him as they would on other members of the Akatsuki? A lot to think about, and something that stays in the back of Sasori’s mind for some time to come.

Hidan and Kakuzu

“Ah?! It’s bad enough kissing you bastards but now I’ve gotta kiss fish-breath too?!” Hidan is somebody that Kisame really doesn’t care for. He finds the man to be too brash, unpleasantly loud, and he abhors those heathen-like “prayer rituals” of his. If all of that superfluous blood and gore is necessary for immortality, then Kisame is happy to stay as he is. Hidan’s complaining only gets louder, the closer he gets to Kisame. So he pretends to lean in to kiss Hidan’s cheek ... and instead uses his teeth to bite Hidan’s ear clean off. Hidan is so startled that he flinches backwards and falls, landing on that damn scythe of his. Kisame laughs so hard that he nearly chokes, and he apologizes to Kakuzu who comes out of his room upon hearing all the swearing (as Kakuzu is the one who needs to sew Hidan’s ear back on, and give him stitches from the scythe-wound in his back). Kakuzu just shrugs and says that Hidan probably had it coming, and while he’s there he decides to get his turn over with. It’s odd; Kakuzu reminds Kisame of his own father (or what little he can remember of him, anyway). He’s always looked to the old man as a friend and mentor, and Kakuzu trusts him to the point where he’ll lend him money with no questions asked AND without charging interest, which is truly a rarity. But kissing for these two would just be too damn weird. They both feel it, so Kakuzu opts for a firm handshake instead. Hidan bitches about this to no end, but Kakuzu only tells him to shut up or else his ear is going to remain permanently detached.

Zetsu

To Zetsu, Kisame looks (and smells) like a scrumptious seafood delicacy. Zetsus never been much one for fish, but Kisame’s half-humanness provides enough of a temptation to thoroughly entice the plant-man. But Zetsu is nothing if not calculating, and he knows that in a fight, it’s more than likely that Kisame would be the victor. The closest Zetsu can get to devouring him is to kiss him, so he does. He strides up to him, grabs his face, and plants a kiss on the guy’s lips. Unable to help himself, he uses his tongue to lick the inside of Kisame’s mouth, which startles the latter and makes him quickly pull back. A good thing he did, too; because Zetsu was mere seconds away fro throwing inhibitions to the wind and trying to eat the man. Zetsu apologizes and goes away, leaving Kisame relieved (and a bit digusted: Zetsu tastes like how wet fertilizer smells).

Tobi

Although Kisame would never admit this to anyone, Tobi legitimately scares Kisame. Being part animal, he’s learned to distinguish different types of scents from those he interacts with. Tobi walks around all day acting the fool, but ... he has the sharp, deadly odor of a predator. Because of this, Kisame firmly believes that Tobi is much more than he presents himself; and he’s the Akatsuki member that Kisame would be least likely to turn his back on. Still, though, this is a game and everyone is playing; and Kisame can’t very well let on his true feelings. Tobi approaches him (“Guess its Tobi’s turn, eh, Kisame-san?”) and, as he had done with Konan, moves his mask to the side so that just his lips are exposed. He smiles, and something about his smile makes Kisame’s heart beat a little harder than normal. And Samehada growled, something that rarely happens. Tobi seems unnerved by Samehada’s reaction, and he hurriedly kisses Kisame’s cheek and pulls his mask back into place, uttering something about being hungry and shouting for his “Senpai Deidara” to help him make food. Kisame breathes out a sigh of relief once he’s out of the room.

Itachi

Itachi Uchiha. When Kisame first met this kid, he was meeting somebody strong, talente, highly intelligent ... and an absolute emotional wreck. A trait that never showed to the others, only Kisame, and only subtly. Teary eyes when discussing families, a look of remorse when sent on missions that would destroy human life ... and then there was the sickness. Kisame doesn’t think Itachi knows that he knows that he’s ill, but he does. It’s in everything, from his blocked chakra channels to his trembling hands, to the deep coughs he emits when he thinks everyone else is asleep. Likely he feels his sickness is atonement, of a sort, for the crimes he committed against his own clan and his family. But still ... Kisame doesn’t believe he’s ever met somebody warmer, or somebody that he’s more honored to call his friend, than the slim young brunette standing in front of him. “Itachi-san, if this makes you uncomfortable, you know you don’t have to kiss me.” Itachi tilts his head, studying Kisame’s face with those damn eyes of his. Under Itachi’s gaze, Kisame becomes a person. Not a freak, not some abomination, but a person. Itachi steps forward and cups Kisame’s cheeks, leans up and gives him the softest, most gentle kiss that Kisame could ever imagine. But his hands are cold (cold even to someone with a low body temperature like Kisame) and his breathing labored. After the kiss, Kisame, done with everybody now, puts a hand in Itachi’s shoulder, guiding him back to his room. He’ll make him tea, he’ll sit with him a while, maybe read to him until he falls asleep. He doesn’t know how much longer Itachi will last but he does know he intends to be by his side as much as possible until that dreaded day comes.

#the akatsuki #under the mistletoe #kisses #kisame #itachi #konan #pein #hidan #kakuzu #deidara #sasori #zetsu #tobi

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galaxofmuses · 2 years

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Drabble: Follow Ups

It was the usual bustling early day as Tobias wakes up from his apartment which is nice and quaint. It is filled up with walls of newspaper clippings and there are several photos of his coworkers and certain people that seems to be family. Stuffing himself with some toast and an orange flavored tank for the morning and packing up an extra cherry flavored E Tank or two since he’s always goes for a hearty meal of energy and built up to purposefully for combat. But now he is using his strength in a different way to help out people. Carrying heavy camera equipment and even learning how to use a camera at ease and filming the right spots at the same time.

Tobias absolutely loves his work and the compliments always makes his week so much better. He was running so many stories to plan to talk to his bestie Kang. Tobi knew he can definitely count on him since he’s honestly the only IT coworker who can deal with his sunshine personality.

As he wears his shirt and sweater vest and nice pair of pants and shoes, looking out there it seems rather cloudy today, perhaps a chance of rain. Well he might have to talk to the crew about those plans to film later. He steps out of the apartment and of course making sure that it’s locked. He heads out of the building and taking a nice jog through downtown.

As he enters with a smile and waving at the front desk and heading to the elevators and finally back to work at his usual office and the usual crew. He was about to greet his coworkers, but he looks around to see well....people gathering and whispering in a murmur about something.

His smile fades out quickly and even lowering his usual cheery voice and into a quite and considerate tone. “Hey guys.....What’s going on?” His crew looks up in concern and knowing well that Tobi isn’t going to take this new information well.

The Leader of the crew, who is a reploid as well, wearing a vest and polo shirt and jearns. A rather normal look for a reploid, but what really sticks out is his long past shoulder length silver hair tied up in a ponytail. Aether adjusts his cap and sighs. “Hey Tobes...We’re having a discussion about what the Chief said...and well...” He takes the data log and showing Tobias the unfortunate report.”

KANG CHO: FROM THE TECH DEPARTMENT AT ROCKET NEWS

LAST SEEN: XX/XX/21XX

IF YOU HAVE ANY INFORMATION ABOUT KANG CHO CALL XXX-XXX-XXXX OR ABEL CITY’S LAW ENFORCEMENT HOTLINE

“What?...I-I saw him before I head out with you guys but I...” His words faltered as his eyes moved away as his circuits are racing to process this heavy news.

The crew felt really terrible to break out the news and of course they are concerned about their missing coworker as well. Even they don’t know him personally, but they knew that Kang is very punctual and precise when it comes to his work.

“Sorry Tobes....We even try to ask anyone that knows Kang personally as well, it’s like he vanished without a trace.”

“I don’t believe he’s gone! I’m gonna fine hi-!” Having his emotions awry, but his crew was ready to grab him before he does anything reckless.

Aether holds his hand to stop and proceeds to put both hands on the other reploid’s shoulders to calm the blonde reploid. Looking back at his steely silver eyes with Tobe’s bright sky blue eyes that are filled with determination.

“Miss Garner is already one step ahead so...It’s up for the Hunters and the Officials. Tobias, I know you are very loyal to your friends, but you are needed here.”

Tobias stops struggling and listening to Aether’s common sense and feeling his eyes watering with emotion.

“Boss I.......I don’t want to lose another...”

Aether gently puts his arm around him in comfort and leading him into the break room. Tobias is definitely going to have a bit of a good cry before he gets back to work. But knowing that his friend his missing, he really needs to talk to someone about this and the first thing he remembers is....Jayden.

He knew that Kang and Jay stuck together during coffee breaks and noticing that Kang is always a tiny bit more softer when he was around with her. Then there is another realization....he needs to break that promise.

“Wait....Jay.....I need to talk to Miss Garner!” With that he wiping his tears away and turning to head out of the break room and into a hurry to look for the reporter.

#:: Drabble ::#:: Ver;MMX; Duty for Reporting! ::#:: OC; Side Muse; Aether ::#:: OC; Tobias ::#:: Event; The Disappearance of Kang Cho ::#long post #// If any of you understand my inspiration of Tobi and Aether's names I would love you forever :D <3 #// also very long drabble cuz oh boy I also hint some Toby story stuff too

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project-rosewood-476 · 3 years

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Every Rose Has Its Thorns Chapter 4

After months of planning and organizing, I am done with this chapter. I am on a roll today

TW: Homicide, mentions of blood

Summary: This is the aftermath of what happened to Tabby at the end of chapter 3 when she killed those parents. Tabby struggles to come to terms with what she did, her emotions, and what she has done in her past. Will she overcome her inner demons and rise above to make peace and amends? Or will she continue to make mistakes that will send her spiraling down the rabbit hole of despair?

After a while, Tabby just stopped and stood up. She calmed down enough to scratch her ears as they were rashy from anger. She just stood there in shock, unblinking. She couldn’t believe what she’s done. She had blood splatters everywhere on her. At least with her jacket, they blended in. If she just zipped up, she could hide her white shirt, clean her glasses and pass off the bloodstains as something else on her pants and shoes.

Masky and Hoodie had grabbed the kids while Tabby was stabbing their father. The little boy was shrieking and struggling against Hoodie, who was being forceful and was in the process of tying up his hands. Masky took a gentler approach with the little girl. He had covered her eyes so she didn't see the scene, and he was in the process of leading her outside. The girl didn't struggle, probably out of shock and fear. Masky was talking to her quietly. Toby heard his assurances that they weren't going to hurt them and that he wouldn't tie her wrists if she just cooperated. In Toby's opinion, the little girl was acting in a much more intelligent fashion. He held the shy-looking baby in his arms. She was pretty cute and had settled down. She was looking up at him, reaching for his goggles curiously. He saw the baby had her name embroidered on her little onesie. The baby's name was Stephanie. Toby glanced around for clues about the kids’ names, and his eyes fell on a crayon drawing of the family. Two stick figures are called Mommy and Daddy. A slightly taller one called Ty. That must be the boy—a stick figure called "Me" and then a circle that was probably the baby. Audrey, age 4, had signed the little kid’s drawing. The little girl probably drew when she was younger. He then remembered that he needed to find the files.

Tabby just still stood there in shock. Her wide eyes were unblinking, and you could tell she wasn't there mentally anymore.

Toby went and tapped her shoulder while holding the baby in one arm.

"Tabby...".

Tabby wobbled her head over at him.

"Yes?..." she stated slowly and emptily. Her eyes were vacant, showing that she retreated further back into her head.

"Let me find the files, and we'll go, okay?" Toby stated calmly. The baby made a slight bubbling noise in his arms.

"Okay..." she stated in the same slow empty voice.

Toby soon found the files and took them. They weren't hidden very well, which made his blood boil. She followed him around, but she still kept that vacant look. She blinked now and then, but it was still unsettling to those who knew Tabby well. Toby was sure she'd be okay later. He just wanted to get this mission done first. It should be fast. Masky was probably contacting their boss so that he could make a temporary portal for them. Usually, Tabby would say something to ease the situation or complain, but this made her deathly quiet. Almost like a broken quiet. She just stared blankly straight ahead.

Toby went outside. It was pretty dark out now. Hoodie was still holding onto Ty, who looked very uncomfortable in his binds. Audrey was sitting by a tree and shaking, almost as if she knew she couldn't escape. Masky was seated nearby. They looked as though they were waiting for the portal to open. It was pretty dark out now. Toby knew that he would snap her out of it later; he tapped her shoulder to get her attention.

"Tabby...It's time to go, okay? Are you alright?"

Tabby nodded her head slowly in acknowledgment that it was time to go.

She wobbled her head towards him again, looking at him with unblinking eyes.

"....fine..." She started slowly in that same empty voice. She continued to walk towards the rest of the group.

Masky had the girl by the hand. Hoodie had tied up the boy and draped him over his shoulder. Toby held the baby and the files. Tabby stayed silent. She was strangely obedient, which was out of character for her. She waited for the next move. Masky turned and began to lead them back through the woods. Hoodie was glad that Tabby was quiet now. Toby was keeping the baby entertained. Tabby continued to move through the woods on autopilot. She just stared ahead, blinking occasionally. She wondered what the kids thought of her or what they'll think of her later on once they processed the whole situation. Once again, her stepdad’s words came back to her.

"All you ever do is ruin people's lives. All you ever do is hurt those around you. You're a monster and bad influence everyone is better off without you being around".

Those were constant thoughts that ran through the chaotic warfare that was her head. On top of the main idea of " how does it feel to know that he was right about you all along?"

She just let the ideas overcome her as she had that blank look of defeat to her.

Toby walked near her. They had to walk for a long while until they could get to the boss. The kids were quiet, thankfully. The baby in his arms made small noises up at him and Tabby.

Tabby was slowly coming to; at least she was more aware of her surroundings and blinking more. She didn't have that blank unsettling look to her anymore. But it was evident that she looked and felt like shit. She still had a glimpse of defeat and was more of a broken quiet.

Toby could tell she wasn't doing well. He figured she probably remembered something. He wondered if there was a way to cheer her up. She looked over at Toby and gave him a small reassuring smile, but it was fake. She then looked away since she's a horrible liar. She would try to explain it to him later.

Toby understood. The kids were surprisingly quiet. Masky was even being kind to the little girl and just talking about where they were going.

Tabby was a broken kind of quiet, but she was looking around at her surroundings more and more. She looked over at Masky being nice to the girl. Although he did try to kill her twice, and she wouldn't forget that. He sort of reminded her of a loose guiding father figure that she didn't have. She then looked at Hoodie, who was in front of them with the boy. However, she hated him and also tried to kill her twice. She sighed. She knew that they were never going to see eye to eye, and there were probably more arguments to come that she didn't know if she would win or not.

However new she was in this line of work, she understood how a team is supposed to work. Whether she liked it or not, she was part of a new team now. And their team can't work if they're constantly arguing and going at each other's throats always. Sooner or later, they were going to have to reach some sort of compromise. She just didn't know precisely how to go about that. She looked back at Toby with the baby in his arms. It was a pretty sight. She sincerely hopes that the baby would be alright. In a way, she was kind of reminded of how a tiny family would be with Toby as the father and her as the mother and the baby as their kid. She shook her head and looked away and scolded herself for having such thoughts about a happy long-term future. She took this second chance for one thing and one thing and one thing only. To get her revenge and avenge her friends. Nothing more and nothing less. As far as she was concerned, they were all just a means to an end, and she didn't care how much she had to kill to achieve her goal, and no one was going to get in her way.

Still...

The walk was short but felt much longer. They seemed to have passed through some sort of barrier. The proxies were okay, but the human children began coughing, shaking, and slightly seizing. The baby started to wail. Tabby looked dazed and confused as they passed through the barrier but was quickly able to snap out of it somewhat. Tim had to pick up the girl. Soon they recovered from this affliction, however, and they approached a large mansion. It was beautiful but had an eerie aura. Tabby felt terrible for the kids and had to restrain herself from helping them having older siblings and mother instincts herself. But she couldn't afford to show any signs of vulnerability. She was still in shock but not as bad as before. She put her hood up, kept her head down and her hands in her pockets.

The two older men ignored her, but Toby scanned her body language to see if she needed help. Tabby was grateful that she wasn't called out on her shit. She knew that she would have to explain herself later when they were more alone, and everything calmed down. Masky was talking to the girl he was holding in a comforting way. Toby was a little unnerved by it, as that was how he spoke to the children that he would kill. One thing Toby liked about Masky was that he always went a little softer on the kids. But he would still kill them. Hoodie simply told the boy who was whimpering to shut up. The mansion loomed as they approached. Someone was on the porch. He recognized the maid garb that his boss used and identified the figure as a maid. One of the dishonored proxies is working their way back into the boss' favor. Tabby saw the person cleaning furiously. She made the logical conclusion that the person was a maid of some sort. She prayed silently that the kids would be alright for the most part and that she did a good enough job so she wouldn't talk too much. Her anxiety was back up, and she was fidgeting with the bottom of her shirt again.

As soon as they entered the mansion, the two older proxies stopped and froze. Almost as if they had entered a trance. When they snapped out of it, they turned to Tabby and Toby.

"Follow us." They said in unison.

Tabby nodded and looked down. She was still quiet, but she mostly snapped out of her shock. Toby was used to this type of stuff. It just meant the boss had been talking to them. They got like that. Masky and Hoodie led Tabby and Toby down a large marble hallway. Many portraits were hung on the walls of different people in different periods. There were a lot of them. Toby stared. This was essentially Slenderman's wall of fame, of proxies who served him exceptionally well. Masky had told him that the being would paint these himself. The hallway was long and filled with these portraits. Toby knew Masky was up there. He wanted to be up there, too, someday.

Tabby nodded and looked down. She was still quiet, but she mostly snapped out of her shock. Tabby looked up at the wall of portraits. They were impressively well done. This was some artistic skill that not even Autumn could achieve. They made her take her mind off of her anxiety for a few brief minutes. Soon they came to a large, heavy wooden door. Masky had to set the child down to open it. He paused, seeming to listen before he turned to Hoodie.

"The boss would like to speak with you in private, but for now, stay out here with the children."

Hoodie nodded, his emotions undetectable during his mask. He set the boy down rather roughly on the marble floors and ordered the girl to sit next to him, which she did fearfully. Hoodie took the baby from Toby, then moved to let the pair follow Masky into the room. Tabby kept her neutral expression. There was no room for emotions or vulnerability here. She straightened out her shirt. She held her head up to maintain eye contact and stood up straight as she walked resolutely into the room. She just hoped that she wouldn't get talked to too much as she didn't trust how her voice would sound. Toby walked with her into the office. Tabby entered cautiously as she did so when entering any room. It was dark and spacious. A fire roared in a fireplace. Pictures of various scenes from history and nature were on the walls, painted as well.

A strange, ancient-looking black tubular object was bolted to the wall in the corner. A low hum came from it, but it was not the hum of machinery. It was some sinister machination. She noticed the machinery and snuck a few curious glances as curiosity was one of her downfalls. She strained her ears to listen to the hum as she was used to dark, sinister energy since she went to Rosewood. Masky didn't look at it, and Toby felt too uncomfortable to do so. The boss was sitting in an armchair behind a desk, his hands folded in plain view. His gaze seemed to pierce the group as they entered. She quickly disciplined herself to focus her gaze back to the situation at hand and kneeling. Toby and Masky kneeled too. Tabby gave yet another silent prayer that the kids would be alright and that she would be too.

"I see you all have completed your mission." The being spoke. His voice echoed through all of their ears.

Masky still knelt.

"Yes, Operator. The children are in the hallway like you asked." He spoke.

The Slenderman hummed softly.

"Have Hoodie bring in the baby when you all leave. The two groups that have agreed to take the human children are in the mansion. You should have no issues sensing them, Masky. And Toby, you have the files?"

Toby nodded and held them out to his boss, who took them.

"Excellent."

The being hummed. He turned to Tabby.

"And you made sure the humans were dead?".

Tabby looked up when she was spoken to, but she said swift.

"Yes, sir, they were most certainly dead," as you could tell by her dirtied bandaged hand that was covered in dirt and dried blood. On top of some on her cheek and splattered across her red plaid jacket and white shirt.

She looked back down. The being nodded slowly.

"Very well. You all may go. Bring the two older children to their groups and send Hoodie in with the baby." He waved his tentacles to dismiss them.

"Yes, sir"

She quickly walked out of the room with Masky and Toby trailing behind. Masky sent Hoodie into the room with the baby and untied the boy to walk on his own. He helped the two kids up. Tabby looked everywhere but the kids. She knew that she would have cast them a pitying look, and there was no place for that here. To her, it's best if they learned now and fast that they would have to save themselves from surviving. She had to push down her parental/older sibling instincts.

She looked down with a guilty look. Wasn't that what she was teaching her little brother? When she left him. That to survive, you have to save yourself? Tabby justified it as a form of tough love. And she had to take care of herself first to provide for him. One of the reasons she took this second chance was to provide Adam the best life he could have when he gets old enough to do so. She would gladly kill without a second thought if that meant avenging her friends and providing and keep her little brother safe. Hell, she'll kill anyone else that gets in her way. She wasn't going to be around forever; he would have to learn how to fend for himself eventually, and she was a firm believer that it's best to teach them young while they're still able to learn quickly.

Still, she couldn't help but feel guilty for what she did.

Toby didn’t want to look at the kids because he didn't know if they were crying or not. He hated crying. Especially kid crying. They soon got to another set of doors, which Tim opened. Three proxies were lounging on a sofa and laughing, but they turned when they saw the door open.

"Oh, hey, Masky! You brought the boy?" The leader of the group asked.

Masky nodded and said with a chipper note in his voice.

"Sure did! Here he is."

He gently nudged the boy to the group. His little sister let out a whimper, which Toby quickly shushed. Tabby continued to look down and say nothing.

"Pay no mind to the kids, pay no mind to the kids, pay no mind to the kids,” she chanted over and over again. She hoped that this would be over soon and hoped that she would continue to be ignored and not have too much social interaction. The boy was welcomed into the group with open arms. Usually, new groupmates would get new proxy names, basically as a sort of initiation. It was the group giving them a new identity. Already the new group began discussing new names for the kid. One of the members, a woman, moved so he could sit next to her.

"Hey, little buddy- no no, don't cry, don't cry, we're not going to hurt you. We're your new team. We're going to train you."

Masky took this as his cue to leave and lead the others out of the room. He closed the door behind them all. The little girl was trembling again, so Masky picked her up.

Tabby looked back at the group with a look of nostalgia and sadness. They reminded her of when she was first accepted into her friend group at Rosewood. They welcomed her and took her for what she was with open arms. She never had that before then. The group that would become her family. The group that she became the leader of. The group that taught her what love, happiness, home, understanding, and acceptance were. She looked away and ran to catch up with the other two. Now it was just her. The sole survivor. She knew that she would never get all of that again unless she made a home for herself, and she knew damn well that she didn't belong in this new group or this world. Well, she didn't belong anywhere, really but especially not here. She was lucky enough to have all of that once. She firmly believes that it will never happen again. They soon walked through the silent hallway to another room, where an all-female group was waiting. Masky set the child down in front of them. One of them, a pretty woman with long red hair, scooped the little girl up gently. The girl looked at the woman with soft eyes. She reminded the child of her mother. One of the team members scoffed at the softness.

"Aurelia, the child needs to begin her training instantly if she is to ever be of use-"

"Shut up, Laura." The woman snapped at the short girl with the blonde pixie cut.

"Not tonight. We can start training tomorrow. Right now, she needs rest and comfort. For now, she can have it."

Tabby looked at the red-haired woman like she was about to cry. She reminded her of an older, more adult version of Autumn if she were to have lived that long. Tabby remembered crying and being comforted by Autumn when she first met her outside of Rosewoods gates. Laura reminded her of herself when a newcomer was welcomed into her group. Autumn ensured that she would take it easy on the new kid before drilling them about surviving Rosewood. She looked down to control her tears. Thank god she was able to hold them back. Aurelia wrapped her arms around the young girl and held her to her chest.

"We're going to take you to your new home, okay, sweetheart? You're going to be okay. We'll take care of you. Come on; you have your room."

Masky moved so the group could leave. The little girl clung to Aurelia like she was a lifesaver. Tabby looked back at the group and then at Masky to study him a little. She was a leader once, and her group did well. Maybe once she got herself established and a home, perhaps she'll have a group of her own again, and maybe she could go back to the way she once was; she shook her head and looked away and chastised herself for thinking such hopeful thoughts. She took this life for one main reason to fulfill her promises. That was her only mission, and she'll kill whomever she has to to get one step closer to her end goal. After that, she was planning on dying. She'll have someone else kill her. She didn't plan on being here for long. She believed that this was a one-way mission and that there was no promising future for her. Good things don't happen to people like her.

Masky watched the other group leave. He sighed, then readjusted his mask.

"Well, now that that's done, are you all hungry? Want something to eat or something? We have a lot of walking to do later, so we might as well fuel up while we can."

They also needed to wait for Hoodie anyways before they could meet up with EJ. The boss always had little "chats" with Hoodie alone, and he wouldn't even tell Masky what they were about. Tabby shook her head no. She didn't trust herself to keep any food down for right now.

"I'm not hungry, right, but I could use another coffee" she rubbed her face. You could tell that she was dead exhausted.

Masky shrugged. That worked for him.

"Great. I'll tell EJ to meet us at the cafe nearby." He stated. They had sandwiches there that the rest of them could eat.

Tabby nodded

"Cool," she stood there awkwardly, not knowing what to say or do next. She avoided eye contact with everyone else.

Masky stepped out to contact EJ. They were still waiting for Hoodie to return. Toby glanced at Tabby. They were alone together for a bit.

"Hey...Tabby..."

Tabby snapped her head up, and when she did, her neck made a loud crack. She winced at the sudden pain that faded away quickly.

"Yeah?"

Toby smiled gently at her.

"Uh...just wanted to make sure you have no questions or anything."

"No. I'm good." She stated quickly, giving him a reassuring smile.

She paused for a minute.

"Do...you have any questions for me?"

"Oh...er, maybe." Toby smiled slightly. "Mainly just...how are you feeling?"

"I feel fine, I guess. Mainly tired, but that's due to insomnia and narcolepsy. Anything else?"

"No, no, that's it," Toby said with a bit of a smile.

Tabby raised an eyebrow.

"You sure?"

Toby paused for a minute. No, he wasn’t sure. He had so many questions for her, such as what the hell happened back there? She just went all ballistic and then just blacked out. Not to mention her shocked state was just creepy and unsettling as fuck. He also took notice of her trying to restrain herself from helping the kids. Did she naturally have that instinct? Did she have any younger siblings that made her like that? Or for all he knows, maybe her own child that she left behind? He knew that Tabby was lying when she said that she was fine. She wasn’t fine; obviously, something happened to her in her past that made her so bothered about this. However, he knew that this wasn’t the best place or time to confront her about all of that. He would have to wait until the time was right.

"Yeah, I'm sure," Toby said.

Masky soon came back into the room, and they were quick, joined by Hoodie. Tabby became quiet and looked back down, avoiding eye contact with any of them. Masky nodded.

"It's time to go. We'll meet EJ at the coffee shop." He stated calmly.

Hoodie was silent. Toby wondered if he was okay. Tabby nodded and followed the rest. She kept her head down, hands in her pocket, and prayed that others wouldn't speak to her. Masky and Hoodie had no intention of talking to her. Hoodie was still a little annoyed with her. Masky didn't want to start anything. Tabby kept to herself. God, she was so tired. Usually, she'd take this week and go into a coma. But this was one of those times where she couldn't just sleep the week away. But she had a backup plan for that. Normally she'd just run on coffee and monster energy, and then she'd fall asleep wherever when she had the free time. All that caffeine isn't good for her anxiety or paranoia, but it keeps her awake long enough to take care of what she needs to for the day, and it beats collapsing where you are and being vulnerable. The walk to the coffee shop was short and uneventful. It was right next to a portal into the human world. Toby was a little excited. They entered the shop and got accosted by the smell of roasted coffee beans and warm air. It was pleasant. The girl behind the bar was a monster/human hybrid. She just had that look about her. Still. Very nice-looking. Masky looked at Toby and chuckled. He knew that Toby used to have a thing for her. Maybe it still did. Tabby looked at the girl, then at Masky, then at Toby. Whatever it was about, she didn't like it. Then again, she doesn't like anybody or anything. She waited to be seated. Toby was smiling at the girl.

"Hey, Leona!" He said to the girl behind the counter. She was beautiful. Short, with long curly brown hair and a peachy complexion. One eye was bright blue. The other side of her face was warped, along with that side of her body. That all added just a bit of charm to her.

"Hiya Tobes! Your usual caramel chocolate mocha?" Leona asked.

He nodded. Masky ordered an espresso and a sandwich. Hoodie got a black coffee and a croissant egg sandwich. Tabby ordered a regular coffee with lots of cream and sugar. Almost enough to make it diabetic. Leona smiled at her.

"Gotcha!" She chirped.

She turned to help make the coffee. Her coworker is a shy-looking girl with a dark complexion and vines growing on her legs and arms. She had twists in her hair, which she braided flowers into.

"Nalia, can you help me with the last two?" It wasn't busy at all.

Tabby kept her bandaged hand hidden in her sleeve to avoid blatant staring and people asking questions. She looked down and kept quiet. It was probably best that she'd only speak when spoken to. She would have gotten something to eat, but she didn't trust that she would keep anything down. Right now, she just needed something to stay awake. Leona handed Toby his coffee with a bright smile. Toby flushed a little. Nalia chuckled to herself and gave Tabby her coffee.

"There you are."

"Thank you," she said curtly but gave a small smile.

Her mom always taught her to be nice to the servers. Tabby sipped on her coffee. A serene smile appeared as she closed her eyes for a brief minute.

Toby was still chatting with Leona. Masky soon got his drink and was sitting it. Hoodie was waiting for his still. Tabby kept quiet, getting lost in her coffee. Tabby really couldn't complain much. If she miraculously saw one of her old friends again, she would do the same thing too. After all, Toby had just met her three days ago. He has had an entire life without her and she without him. In reality, neither of them was special to each other. Still, she didn’t understand or know why or what she was feeling. The best way she could explain it was that she didn’t like seeing him talking to other girls, it made her angry, and her stomach hurt for some unknown reason. She just brushed it off and tried to ignore it. Toby and Leona chatted for a while before Toby went to go sit down by Tabby. Hoodie got his coffee and was sipping it. Tim had finished his and was talking with the other barista. Tabby finished her coffee and was slightly upset that it was gone as she couldn't have any more caffeine since that would send her into an anxiety attack, and if that were left unchecked, it would send her into a paranoid episode.

Soon Hoodie and Masky joined them at the table. They could stay here for a bit before meeting EJ and doing the long walk to get to where they needed to be. Tabby was resting her cheek in her good hand as she struggled to keep awake despite the coffee. But she was determined not to fall asleep as she didn't want to be vulnerable as she was surrounded by three men who could potentially kill her at any minute. Hoodie and Masky talked amongst themselves. Toby glanced at Tabby.

"You good?".

"Well, aside from losing everything I knew in one fell swoop, losing my hand, spending my entire life trying to prove my stepdad that he was wrong only to prove him right today and the fact that It’s narcolepsy week for me and I can't sleep. Yeah, I'm good" she gave a small smile. She figured that she owed him at least a little bit of honesty for right now until they were more alone, and then she would try to explain everything.

"Well, you should get some time to sleep for a few days because we need to get the paperwork done and new identities for that school," Toby stated.

"Normally, I'd go into a coma for the week and then go back to my insomniac self. Or if I were at Rosewood, I'd just sleep my way through classes."

"Well, I mean, you can definitely sleep in the classes. We don't need to pass or anything. Just blend in.".

Tabby gave him a smirk.

"I was a straight-A student at Rosewood. I think I'm too smart for their classes. Benefits of being a teacher’s pet."

"Well, this is a different school, so let's see if you can keep that up." Toby joked a little.

Tabby snorted.

"Please compared to Rosewood where the material was harder, and you got punished for anything lower than a C. On top of my stepdad drilling the lessons into me until I learned them and got punished at where I used to live if I didn't. Greengrove will be a child’s play".

"Well, we'll see." Toby chuckled.

Masky soon turned to them.

"We have to go now."

Tabby nodded and got up and waited for the rest. The rest of them got up and began to head to the door. Toby waved at Leona as they left. Once they met up with EJ in the human realm, they could drive to the house. Tabby followed them, keeping quiet. They walked outside into the chilly air. Toby was quiet. Masky was eating his sandwich. Tabby grumbled and pulled her jacket together tighter around her. The walk, thankfully, was going to be a short one. EJ was waiting for them in the human world with a van. The portal was very close. Tabby kept her head down and prayed that everyone would keep ignoring her. Tabby's anxiety was slightly raised as four strangers surrounded her could potentially kill her at any time, so it was an unfair fight of 4 against 1. EJ paid no mind to Tabby as the group arrived. To him, she wasn't all that beneficial yet. She would probably only work with him once anyways. Masky greeted EJ like an old friend as they loaded up into the car.Tabby took the passenger seat to her left. She buckled up and pulled her knees up to her chest and rested her cheek on her knees as she looked out the window. She wrapped her arms around her legs. EJ couldn't drive for, well, obvious reasons. Masky took his seat at the wheel, and Brian, Toby, and EJ took their places in the backseat. Toby couldn't technically drive, so he wasn't allowed to drive in human territory. Tabby's anxiety was picking up. To her, it was four against 1. You could tell that she was silently running scenarios through her head and coming up with the best escape plans for each. Just in case shit hit the fan. She was fidgeting with the bottom of her jacket to keep her from spiraling into an anxiety attack. Or worse, into a paranoia episode which they didn't need to see. Masky didn't notice and didn't even pay her any attention. He switched on the radio and turned it up. It was an upbeat country song. Hoodie scoffed from the back. Ugh. Toby yawned in the back. EJ was sorting things in a pack.

Tabby gave a slight smile and a stifled giggled. They honestly reminded her of herself and Autumn when they would both play the music they didn't like but put up with for each other. She also knew the song too. It was an older upbeat song. It brought back a memory of one summer's night when she was younger, driving around with her grandfather after a long day of fishing and her falling asleep in the backseat. Both memories and the slightly familiar situation brought a sense of comfort to her. She stopped fidgeting less. Masky jokingly crooned along to part of the song, making Hoodie groan. EJ smiled to himself. It was a pretty peaceful drive as well. Masky was a decent driver. Usually. He was speeding slightly but not much. The road was straight and long as well as nearly empty. Tabby finally broke character at Masky jokingly crooning along, and Hoodie groaning at him and gave out a laugh. It was a weird sound as she hasn't done it in a long time. She cleared her throat and quickly returned to being her dark, angsty, stoic self, almost embarrassed. Masky smiled, seeing that she found that amusing. He turned to Hoodie.

"She's on my side, see?"

"God, Tim, you are so childish sometimes."

"Kinda have to be with this job. Don't want to be a mopey grouch like you, Brian."

"Shut up." Hoodie retorted.

Toby chuckled at the conversation. Tabby was a little bit more relaxed. She still didn't trust any of them. But her anxiety was less, and she was a little more smiley after that. They honestly reminded her of her and her friends. That thought was comforting. For a brief moment, she forgot all about her past, rosewood, Horatio, that awful fight she got into, her friends being dead. She almost forgot that her life was turned upside down and the fact that she was a killer now and that she was in a car full of them. She gave a quick look to Masky. Maybe toby was right; perhaps she was a little short to judge and deserved a second chance. Maybe they all did. But then reality came and hit her like a ton of bricks. Her smile vanished, and she scolded herself for letting down her guard. She can't get too comfortable with them. They are killers; they could quickly kill her right here and now if they wanted to. They shouldn't be trusted. Besides, she didn't plan on being here for long. This was only temporary until she got what she wanted. She couldn't forget about her motivation and keeping her eye on the prize. Her past is all she has left. She remembered that she didn't have friends anymore. They're all dead, and these guys would never be them. But you could tell that she was more hurt than anything., Masky reminded her of what her stepdad used to be before he left and then came back and then turned into what he is now. It just made her think about what could have been and knowing that she can never get that back. She went back to being her regular hurt self.

The men didn't seem to see her change in mood. Masky glanced in the rearview mirror.

"You excited to be in a school setting again?" He asked the grouchy proxy.

"Oh god, don't tell me I'm supposed to be going back too. I do not pass for some kid-"

"Nooo, we're not. Uh..." Masky looked like he was debating what he was about to say.

"Our aliases are technically married, so we get to pretend like we're Toby and Tabby's parents."

"Oooh, my FUCKING god. Was that Jeff's idea? I'm going to knock his fucking teeth in."

"No, it was BEN's."

"That piece of shit," Hoodie muttered under his breath.

Toby laughed. "I mean...that's kind of what you both are-"

"Shut the fuck up, Rodgers." Hoodie snapped.

Masky stopped any potential fights from erupting by turning to look at the two.

"Knock it off, you guys. Seriously."

Tabby muttered under her breath,

"Y'all not my parents don't tell me what to do."

Masky overheard her and busted out laughing. Hoodie just looked annoyed and looked out the window. Toby chuckled as well. EJ was ignoring the commotion and sorting some things in a bag. He was so quiet it would be easy to forget he was in there.

Tabby looked at Masky defensively and narrowed her eyes. She sat more in a defensive, protective position.

"What's so funny?"

She looked almost offended.

"You," Masky said. He continued driving. "You sound juuust like Hoodie does. He's rubbing off on you."

Hoodie and Tabby looked at each other pissed off and horrified, “WE DON’T SOUND ALIKE!”

"Theeen, stop acting like each other," Masky said, utterly unbothered by them acting like a child.

He continued driving. Toby sighed and picked up a magazine to read. EJ finally looked up at the rest of them.

“Jesus, I haven’t been in a public school in eight years,” said Tabby to herself in realization

“Still, it would be nice to be back in familiar territory again,” she said quietly more to herself.

Tabby got a little more excited as they reached town. Tabby bolted up, sitting straight and looking out the window, happy to be back in familiar territory. She looked at all the shops and houses at restaurants. They even passed by her old workplace at the This or That restaurant. It wasn't a bad town. Yes, there were bad parts, but the only places she hated were Rosewood prep and her old apartment. And now that she wasn't under her stepdad’s thumb. She didn't have to sneak out to do usual teenage shit, and she could go out whenever she wanted to. The thought of all that newfound freedom was making her buzz with excitement. The only thing that sucked was that she didn't have anyone to share that with.

The town was an array of stuff. Up north in the town of Holy Ann was more of a rural area and where the only bus stop was. It was where Tabby's grandparents lived up on the hill in their birch-colored house. Tabby used to spend her summers up there when her mom wanted a break from her. We have the main Town of Maplehood Creek. Uptown was where the poor and bad areas were; Tabby lived in their gray and yellow apartment complex. Downtown was where the businesses were, rich people and Rosewood Prep was. The best place to trick r treating was downtown. And in the back roads was more of a quiet place to live, and that's where her uncle mark lived. Tabby knows the town inside out. She can use the backroads and the underground catacombs under the town and Rosewood Prep. She thought it would be nice to have someone to share that knowledge with.

The town was relatively quiet. Other cars were passing by, and you could hear the sound of children playing and people talking. It was a brisk November afternoon, but Tabby didn't mind the cold air. The streets varied with houses and apartments and neat little shops and restaurants. Very few of the trees still had their leaves on. Honestly, it would be a good and quiet town to settle down and live in if it wasn't for the slums and Rosewood Prep and the odd killings and disappearances that happened in town.

They passed Maplehood Creek cemetery. Tabby's mood drastically changed from happy and excited to quiet and sad and dead on the inside. She looked away, not wanting to remember that the only form of family was buried there. And the fact that near the cemetery there was a sign saying ROSEWOOD PREPARATORY SCHOOL MASSACRE SECTION TO YOUR LEFT AND CIRCLED IN THE ENCLOSURE did not help at all.

Hoodie was looking over a map from the back. Masky was looking for the house that they had attained. It should have been close to the school they were infiltrating. Hoodie was giving him directions from the back. EJ just sat still in deep thought. Eventually, they pulled up to a cozy blue house. Masky could see the Operator symbol posted in the window. That was their signal. He pulled into the driveway. It was a lovely house and comfortable. Had four rooms, but Masky and Hoodie could share. EJ had already claimed the room in the basement, so the others chose the upstairs rooms.

Tabby gave out a small whistle.

"This is so much nicer than my old apartment. It’s an actual house. I never lived in an actual house before. Then again, we're in the middle-class part of Maplehood, so that's why."

Masky chuckled.

"Yeah, we had some strings pulled, so we got a place that had multiple rooms and whatnot. Seeing as SOME of us-" He glanced in the rearview mirror at EJ. "need our space every waking moment of the day."

Tabby nodded

“I relate. I like being alone. I don't blame him. I hate any involuntary social interaction. Actually no. I just hate socializing in general.”

"Good thing you get your room too. We couldn't get individual rooms for everyone, so Hoods and I will share."

"I figured you wouldn’t want to watch me eat," EJ stated.

"Yeah, I'm SURE that was the only reason." Masky teased back, making Toby giggle.

Masky parked the car. He could see that no one was out and about. He unbuckled his seatbelt and went to get out. Shuffling from the back revealed that the others were moving to get out as well. Tabby bolted out and went to the door before smacking into it by accident and realizing that its locked. Hoodie chuckled a little unkindly. Masky sighed and shook his head. EJ stepped over her with the key in his hand and unlocked the door. Without a word, he went inside. Tabby glared at Hoodie, ready to attempt to beat his ass but decided against it, considering that she wasn't the one to make the first move in a fight. She walked in after EJ taking in her surroundings. The house was a nice, spacious place with a wood floor and white walls. It was a clear shot from the living room to the kitchen, which was clean: a rug and sitting area with a television and a coffee table and a double-sided fireplace. Off to the left, stairs were leading up, and next to them was a door that presumably led down the stairs. An open door off to the side led to a laundry room and then a bathroom. It was a rather lovely place. The only hint as to what happened to previous residents was a tiny speckle of blood on one of the rugs.

"This...is nice… it’s much more spacious than my run-down three-bedroom apartment that had paper-thin walls and constant drug busts next door.”

Tabby nodded thoughtfully and left it at that before running up the stairs excitedly, almost tripping over herself to go check out the rooms.

The others brought in their items. EJ, along with his somewhat mysterious and odd-smelling bag, came out to help with the rest. Hoodie looked more interested in settling in than exploring. It was unclear how Masky felt. EJ was mainly trying to get everything inside.

Tabby went to explore the rooms. There were four rooms upstairs, two next to each other and one at each end of the hall on top of two bathrooms. Tabby took the one that was smack in the middle and took a look around. It was spacious.

EJ entered the basement and closed the door behind him. Toby took one off to the side, and Hoodie and Masky took the enormous bedroom. It fitted, as they worked very closely together and were secretive little shits. Toby didn't have much to set up.

Tabby was speedy in unpacking as she didn't have much either she put her clothes and necessities away and hung up her pictures and Autumn’s sketches. She stood back to admire her work. Toby spent time going over his background and starting his research into some of the students they may encounter. He wanted to be able to cement his alibi by making friends. She wrote down a set of rules as she didn't like or trust any of them. And didn't want to interact with them more than she had to. That and she was antisocial as fuck.

1) only come to me if there’s an emergency

2) only come to me if you want something cleared up

3) don't talk to me unless its about food

4) don't talk to me unless you have essential information to share about the group or mission as a whole

Tabby taped it up on her front door where everyone can see and know what to expect. She then decided to go over her alibi too. She was good at remembering shit. She chuckled at her new name. "Karma," it read. She wondered if it was a coincidence or did someone that put this together knew her and her legacy at Rosewood. It didn't matter anyway. She began to do some research on her own.

Some of the kids were more public online. Some were not. Toby noted a few who seemed to be easy to get along with. He figured he could find some. He could see some pretty clear friend groups, but he didn't see that many cliques, unlike most schools. That was good. Those were obnoxious. He still wasn't sure what the mission was, exactly. He knew that it was a mission to capture someone, but he didn't know who or why.

Tabby decided that it was best to stick to what she was good at. Being a teacher’s pet, fighting and spying. She would rather avoid any unnecessary socialization if possible.

Toby knew he didn't have that option. As much as he didn't like socializing with people, he had to do it to coax out any information he needed. He wasn't afraid to break a few bones, of course, but he would prefer not to.

Tabby planned to stay in her room at all times unless someone was making dinner because she would have to watch. Or unless it was important information about the mission or if she was physically forced to socialize with the rest of the boys.

Toby glanced out of the window. The sun was high in the sky. It was hot out. Or at least it looked it. He could hear Masky and Hoodie unpacking in another room and EJ shuffling around downstairs. He could see a few people outside. It seemed just normal.

Tabby didn't realize how lonely she was. Everything was so different now that she lost all of her friends. It was evident that Masky and Hoodie were thick as thieves despite how strained their relationship was like her and Autumn. Toby could fit in with just anyone and EJ...well...she was pretty sure that he could make his way around if he had to. Tabby knew that she was an outsider, nor did she belong. Hell, she never belonged anywhere growing up. But this was the first time that it sunk in. She let out a quiet whimper before shaking her head and standing up straight. What was she thinking? She knew that she wouldn’t have friends here with them of all people. She couldn't. It was her against them. 4 against 1. She knew that she didn't belong and that she never will. That's not what she was there for. She was there for one thing and one thing only. To take out Horatio once and for all. Tabby sat on her bed, finally being allowed the quietness to process just everything that happened to her so far. Now that Tabby took this second chance at life, she had genuine freedom, more or less.

This was the most freedom that she's ever been given in my entire life. She always had to sneak around just to get what she wanted and act like an average teenager. Well, as normal as a problematic Rosewood child can get. Now she didn't have to do that anymore. With everything that has happened so far and her crippling loneliness, she was so overwhelmed that she began to cry silently. Goddamn it. She hated herself for being weak, especially around these people. She didn't have the luxury to be vulnerable. She was paranoid that they could smell weakness on her, which just made her cry silently harder.

Toby soon overheard Hoodie and Masky having some sort of conversation. He heard the words "tour" and "school" in the same sentence and groaned. They had probably been signed up to go on one of those stupid school tours to see the campus before they went there. He sighed. This was going to suck. He already hated the idea of going back to school. He wondered what Tabby was doing. Probably unpacking and didn't want to be bothered.

Tabby just cried more, letting out gut-wrenching sobs into her pillow as she curled up in a ball, praying that no one can hear her. No one could. Except for one. Footsteps in front of her door. Three knocks, but no announcement of who it was.

Tabby bolted up with dear in the headlights look. She gave a loud hiccup before announcing, "I'll be there in a minute!"

She turned the water on hot in the bathroom connected to her room and splashed the water on her face. Yes, it burned, but it would explain why her face is wet, cheeks red, and eyes puffy. She ran to the door as fast as she could and opened it. She sounded like her usual mature, tough girl self.

"Yes? What do you want? I have rules on socializing with me posted on the door, you know."

"I can't read. I don't care." The voice responded coldly.

Tabby groaned.

“Figures…”

EJ stood at her door, quite a bit taller than her. He seemed to look down at her, but it was unclear what he could see and what he couldn't. His face was hidden behind his mask.

"Be glad I even knocked." He was a blunt man. Socially not the best.

She took on a harsher and sarcastic approached.

“Oh, I am so grateful for your consideration.”

"I heard you crying." It was stated in a very matter-of-fact way.

She stood up tall, attempting to stand her ground almost in a fighting stance.

“First of all, I wasn't crying. I don't know what you heard. I was washing up, and the water happened to be too hot, and I accidentally burned myself; that’s why my face is red and my eyes puffy. Besides, even if I was, what's it to you? I appreciate cold genuine hatred then someone pretending to give two shits about me when they don't!”

You could see her almost bristling like a cat would be defensive. She couldn't tell if he was just polite or if he cared for some ungodly reason. She wasn't exactly good at being social either.

"No, that's ridiculous. You were crying. I can smell the salt and snot." He couldn't see, but he could sense that she was very defensive and that he was unwelcomed.

`Tabby hissed at him

"Well, I'm a naturally salty person. Besides, what's it to you? If you want me to be quiet, I'll just cry silently.”

"No. I want you to shut up. You crying is ridiculous. Very much so. You will have to keep a better handle on your emotions, or you may be killed or be viewed as too sensitive. Especially as a proxy."

"Yeah yeah, I hear you. I honestly don't care at this point. I'm only going to say this once. I lost everything I knew in one fell swoop. I’m struggling with the fact that the person I hate the most was right about me, I’m more alone than ever, and I'm in a household full of males. It’s four against one here. So forgive me for letting out a few salty streaks when I'm alone and away from all of you who I despise very much."

She gave a sarcastic, bitter, sickly sweet smile.

"Have a nice night" she slammed the door in his face.

"Get over it," EJ responds from behind the door.

"No, because getting over it means moving on, and moving on means forgetting. And I will never forget" she punched the door with her right hand.

Footsteps as he soon leaves her be. He doesn't care. He's looking out for her, in a sick sadistic way, true, but still nonetheless. He wasn't going to try to damage her reputation. Being that vulnerable would get her killed. And that would be annoying for him.

She heard him walk away.

"If I do forget all of my hatred, there would be nothing of me left," she added, still loud enough for him to hear.

"You are just a weak child," EJ responds through the door. "Nothing more, nothing less. Get. Over. It. Or I'll kill you myself."

"I hope the fuck you do."

She said it more softly, but she did mean it.

EJ stopped in his tracks as he heard the last of what Tabby said. He looked over his shoulder back at her door. He didn’t know how to respond to that. It sounded like she almost meant it like she wanted it to happen. He wasn’t used to being called upon his threats. He meant to use it as a scare tactic to attempt to keep her alive. If she didn’t want to be alive, he couldn’t use the value of her own life to keep her in line when she didn’t value it at all. I daresay this time he bit off more than he could chew. He also wasn’t used to being stood up to and called out on his threats. What a .strange human she was. He also wondered if she didn’t want to be alive, then why did she take this life, to begin with? What was keeping her here in the land of the living? He shook his head and made his way back into the basement. Oh well, he’ll figure something else out to help keep her in line and forcefully stay alive. Right now, she’s too intriguing to let herself get killed; maybe she’ll end up being useful too. He knew that he’d get his answers sooner than later.

After she was sure he was gone, she slid down the door with her knees up to her chest and put her face in her hands. She went back to crying silently. Great, just great. She really fucked up. She could have had a potential ally, but she just had to go and be spiteful. After a few minutes of being on the uncomfortable hardwood floor, she staggered over to her bed and flopped face-first onto it. Maybe if she stayed there long enough, she would suffocate to death in her blankets.

Oh yeah, this was going to be a long six months.

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hit-me-with-a-ladle · 3 years

Text

Ch.10 Creepypasta x Fem! Reader

Before even realising, the week had ended once more, perpetuating the endless cycle experienced day after day. Though not as severe as the previous, it was still very tiring in its own way. As the first day passed, Ben wanted to perceive her potential, making her brew something after every lesson and making sure the notes taken were comprehensive and correct. But what he failed to inform her was that the slightest miscalculation could end up in an explosion. The combining of two opposing substances ended up in a chain reaction that gave the girl burns and potential scars, their severity somewhat dulled by the elixir Ben would create after, but still very painful.

That week was strange, as Ben was inept at any social interaction. Struggling with reading the room and understanding others thoughts and feelings. Though he hated silence and many-a-time attempted to end it with a random ramble about a certain topic that would last hours at a time, tiering the poor girl forced to listen. His tendency for not understanding physical boundaries had begun to become a problem too, invading the girl's personal space at very unwanted times and always flashing that creepy smile whenever he saw her, making her tense up.

Though the perpetual cycle had begun to have a toll on her. Her body was on autopilot most of the day. Walking around and doing the same things as a robot. And the last day of the week hadn't been any different. She'd fallen asleep the previous night at exactly ten pm after launch and woke up the morning at around five-fifty six am, before her alarm. Getting up taking a shower, bandaging her wounds, getting dressed, and heading towards the stairs for a nutritious breakfast before she'd have to meet the new person sent there to train her. Toby had presumed.

Right as she was about to take her first step down the narrow wooden staircase she stopped in her tracks, looking back towards her bedroom door. Stepping back she walked towards it and walked in, looking around quickly before spotting the thing she was looking for. The necklace Ben gave her, she took it off the previous night and forgot to put it on. Quickly snatching it and clasping it around her neck and putting it under her jumpsuit she hurriedly ran downstairs, not wanting to be off schedule. She wasn't sure why she'd gone back to grab it, but something was telling her that it was special.

Looking at the clock she sighed, twenty minutes left before her training starts. Her thoughts were in shambles as she imagined what the new man was going to be like. A sadistic narcissist like Jack? An aggressive control freak like Masky? Or maybe, a blabbering creep like Ben? She wasn't ready to find out. But it was inevitable, no matter how much she wished she could leave, to get an end to this madness. But she didn't have to wonder for long as she heard light footsteps on the hard floor approaching her. Usually, she wouldn't have noticed something as minute as that but recently her senses have heightened significantly with the constant rushes of adrenaline her body had been going through to stay alive.

Gazing in its direction she finally saw the man, he looked to be around twenties years of age. He was of average height, around five-foot-seven or about hundred-and-seventy-three meters, a bit bigger than Ben. His mouth, covered with a black striped mask and a pair of orange-tinted goggles over his eyes. Bushy dark brown hair peeking out from the blue hood of his stained zip-up. The only feature visible was his pale almost grey skin that seemed cold as ice. Below the waist, he had two old hatchets harnessed on either side of his long baggy jeans, with his gloved hands firmly gripping both whiles staring at the girl. As he stood he would occasionally jerk or twitch to the side without warning. She gazed at him, confused by the sudden motions of his body.

Suddenly the man coughed, grabbing her attention and snapping her out of the daze that she was in. Shaking her head and apologizing immediately. He approached, now right in front of her.

" He-llo. I'm To-toby."

He stuttered as he stretched out his right hand at her. Swiftly grabbing his hand to shake it. The leather that collided with her skin was worn out and patchy.

" Hi." She retorted, trying to pull her hand away but he would let do. She could feel his flesh twitch underneath his thick glove. " So when are we going to begin training?"

She awkwardly addressed trying to soften the ever-growing tension. The man only nodded his head and softly huffed, finally letting go.

Glancing behind her shoulder, staring at the back door with a blank stare he pushed her aside and walked towards it. She was perplexed by him, not expecting such an act as a frown formed on her face. 'Who does he think he is? He didn't even answer my question. Jerk.' She thought, her eyebrows scrunching in irritation while going back to making herself breakfast.

"I'll wait for you to fin-finish outside. Be quic-k."

He said quietly as he stepped outside.

Sighing dramatically she began to eat, starting at the clock on the wall, counting down the seconds with dread. Eating had become a choir, her mouth always feeling dry. The food itself was bland too, devoid of odour and taste made the texture unbearable at times. But she didn't have much of a choice. It sometimes felt like eating sandpaper but she couldn't complain as it would only stir up a problem. Most of the food was meant to strengthen her body and make her more durable. Forcing down the last bite she got up but the dishes in the sink and went towards the back door with a black expression on her face.

Opening it up it made a loud creak, annoying the girl as she slammed it behind her, searching for the googled man. She assumed that he was in the armoured area of the forest. Remembering passing it while doing Maskys test, grumbling at the memory. Picking up her speed and running towards it she got there in about ten minutes. Abruptly stopping when she saw the back of his head, a sense of accomplishment washing over her when she realised that her judgment was right. As she was about to inform him of her arrival he swiftly turned around. His orange stained goggles reflect the sun's rays making them shine.

" Si-since you arrived, w-we should begin." He softly said as he reached for his hatchet and pointed to the middle of the small clearing. It was perfect for close-range combat, especially if what they were using were close-range weapons. It was specifically designed for the people training in them to be wary of their surroundings and to focus their movements. Small bumps and rocks were scattered to make it more of a challenge. Battered practise dummies were also present on the sides, some had throwing stars and objects logged on their body. A small shed was tucked in between two trees, made to store some of the weapons they practise with.

As he stood in the middle Toby walked up to the shed, shoving his hand in his pocket searching for something, suddenly pulling out a set of rusty keys and looking for the one that matched the shed's lock. Going inside he searched for something, the girl wasn't sure what as she wasn't able to even see him. After a minute, he finally walked out holding something in his hand. Approaching her he extended his gloved hand letting her see it, a small hunting knife. The blade sharpened to perfection as the thick mettle it was made out of shine in the light, encased in a large worn wooden handle, finger-like dents could be seen from previous use.

Taking it in her hands it fits almost perfectly, holding firmly she studied the mettle further. Just like Maskys pocket watch, there was a crossed-out circle on it; her face was now showed intrigue by the particular design.

" The b-blade you're hol-ding in your hand is o-one of the most impor-tant things you need to sur-survive. Not only is it used fo-for self-defence it's also used for ever-everyday tasks. For ex-example, cutting down vines and or carving th-ings into wooden sur-surfaces."

As he spoke he would occasionally twitch and jerk but he didn't seem distracted by it, already used to the constant random unwanted motions his body made.

The girl nodded her head, thoroughly listening to his every word said, she'd come to terms that if she expected to escape she had to use everything that they thought her to good use. Toby had started to show her different techniques of cutting and use of the knife, explaining the proper stance and movements. But the girl seemed to struggle, shuffling her feet trying to get the stance right. Toby rolled his eyes and went behind her, starting to fix her mistakes and instructing her while doing so. The girl could faintly feel his uneven breaths on her neck. He was noticeably rough with the way he grabbed her hands, fixing them in place. When he was satisfied he let go and went to the side to watch her work.

The silver blade shined as the light hit its clear surface, the girl quickly jabbing and slashing the tree she was told to work on, creating noticeable scratches as she did. At first, her movements were quite slow and sloppy, not being able to get the hang of the small weapon, but eventually, she got the hang of it, quickly gliding around the tree with pretty much no effort and slashing it with remarkable precision. Toby watched her every step, pleased by her sudden improvement.

"I th-think that should b-be enough." He said loudly, disturbing the girl from her trance. Making her quickly straighten up and look at him.

" I-i think yo-you learned the bas-basic, now le-lets see how you will do it hand-to-hand."

The girl nodded, approaching him without saying a word, blade in hand ready to use. Toby also didn't bother to say a word, only pulling out one of his hatchets and getting into a fighting stance, she quickly followed. Neither of them tried to attack at first, only scanning their opponent, anticipating their every move. A cold sweat started to form on the girl's back as panic slowly arose in her mind, the tension was unbearable, and she feared that it showed on her face, but even still she had to muster up the courage and finally strike first.

She leapt at the googled boy, attempting to slash him with her blade but he avoided it in the nick of time. He was quick to react as he soon tried to sweep her off her feet but she blocked his blow and sprang a bit away creating a small distance. He was the one to attack next, facking a strike with his hatchet to her head, quickly using his other hand to punch her in the jaw, making her stumble and slip. Going to her lever and attempting to strike her again, she was quick to block, using all the possible strength she had in her arms to protect herself. She managed to somehow push him off as she quickly tried to get up, but made one fatal mistake by averting her gaze from his, giving him the Milly-second of a chance to slash her upper thigh.

Screaming in agony she fell to her knees, quickly feeling her weight turned on her back and crashed on the ground, the impact causing the necklace around her neck to come out from the jumpsuit, catching Toby's attention. The bottle shined in the light and wasn't hard to spot, he approached her aching for, carefully kneeling to her lever. Her face was in a mix of emotions, ready to defend herself again at any moment, but as he extended his gloved hands what she didn't expect was for him to reach for the necklace.

He held the small thing in his hands, twisting it around to get a better look at what was contained inside of it.

"A-a protection ch-charm." He murmured, but the girl still managed to somewhat hear it.

Her face showed a mixture of confusion and distress. Moments ago he was trying to slice her throat and how she was softly gripping her necklace, not saying another word.

They stayed in that position for a few minutes, the tension in the air occasionally being broken by the googled man ticks.

" Did Ben gi-give you this?" He asked sternly, twisting the tiny bottle between his thumb and pointer finger as he held it in front of her face.

" Yeah" She only said, averting from his gaze. He scoffed harshly letting go of it and firmly standing up, taking a few steps away from her.

Shooting pain ran up her leg to her back as she tried to stand, quickly holding the wound on the back of her thigh, adding as much pressure as she could so the blood would stop pouring out. Toby did say a word only looking in her direction. The girl's thoughts were racing, anger and fear swirling all in the bat of rage. She has enough of this, recollecting her strength slowly she took a long breath in, subtly looking in her peripherals to spot where Toby was standing. And the moment she felt the adrenaline kick in like all those times before she leapt.

The pain didn't concern her anymore; she only wanted him to feel the same she felt. Tackling his feet, he let out a low yelp as he fell on his lower back, she then quickly acted by pulling out the second hatched holstered to his person and putting it to his neck. Heavy jagged breaths escaped her chapped lips as she stared at him with a wide eyes gaze, sweat coming out of every pour.

Shaking uncontrollably while firmly holding the hatchet to his neck. She whispered, "I win."

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claudiasjeancregg · 3 years

Text

we can find each other this way, i believe

for the tww flowershop au, created here!!

for ariel and bianca, and everyone who’s helped create this lovely universe<3

title from Come and Find Me by Josh Ritters, a song @aerielz introduced me to that we both now think should be this au’s anthem. seriously, listen to it.

Toby opens every morning, bright and early. Comes with the job of owning the shop, he supposes. But still, it wouldn’t be unreasonable for Sam to relieve him of the duty for once.

He hears a shuffle at the door, keys jingling, and looks up without a word.

“Morning, Toby!” Donna breezes in, all sunshine and cheerfulness even at 6 AM— she’s exactly who people expect to work at a flower shop. He is decidedly not.

“Hey, Donna,” he mutters, lost in thought. Something’s happening this morning, something big that’s lying in the back of his mind, almost close enough to remember but just out of reach.

“Is there- do we have a big order we’re doing today?”

She frowns. “No, not that I know of, at least. Why, do you want me to do something?”

He shakes his head, giving her a sideways look. “Aren’t you busy enough?”

“Yeah, I really am,” she sighs, dropping her keys on the counter and jumping onto it, like his remark had been some invitation to vent. It had not been, as a matter of fact.

“I love my job, don’t get me wrong. But Josh doesn’t let me do anything! I’m stuck working on bacon in the back-“

“Bacon? Is that some tattoo shop slang I'm not aware of? Or— Donna, please don’t tell me it’s a sex thing.”

Donna gives him a petulant look, eerily similar to how his older sisters looked as kids when they hadn’t given what they wanted. “You’d think so, but it’s actual bacon. They seem to think I’m training to be a butcher, not a tattoo artist.”

Toby lets out an uncharacteristic laugh and sits next to her, mind filled with images of a future Donna with dyed hair and full tattoo sleeves.

She shoves him off the counter. “What?”

“Come on, it’s funny! You’re Donna Moss, you really want to work at a tattoo parlor?”

She turns her head firmly, staring straight at him. “Yeah! Yeah, I do. I want to work everywhere and learn everything and not just be Donna Moss, the blonde ditzy girl who can’t stick to a major.”

Well, he can understand that. Donnatella Moss is an interesting girl, the opposite of what he had expected to find in someone as— well, as blonde and sweet and young as her. But ever since she had walked in, incessantly asking questions about his shop and practically begging for a job, Donna hasn't stopped surprising him. She’s eager to learn everything about everything, flower meanings and proper bouquet arranging and the ins and outs of running a small business. She’s a business major— well, sort of. He said that tentatively because Donna had changed majors over and over again through the years he had known her. But this one seems like it’ll stick. She has a knack for business, enough of a knack that she had been able to talk herself into jobs at two stores on the same block.

As much as Toby judged her at first, he has to admit that she knew what she was doing. And he doesn’t want to lose one of his best employees— not that he would ever tell her that— but he isn’t about to hold her back from something that for some reason, she seems very interested in.

“Okay. Then I say do it. If that’s what you want, the shop can operate without you.”

“Uh, you know I’ve already been working there, right? I don’t need your permission for everything, you ass.”

The combination of Donna’s snark and the ridiculously big grin on her face almost makes Toby laugh.

“Hey, I’m still your boss. I should have gotten rid of you when I had the chance,” he groans.

“I mean, I already have a job lined up! It’s been like two weeks, I’m sure they’d take me full time if I asked—“

“Shut it, Blondie.”

“Don’t call me that.” She rolls her eyes, but the whisper of a smile on her face gives her away. “Speaking of working at a tattoo parlor—“

A smile grows on her face as Toby shifts uncomfortably in his spot.

“Donna, I swear—“

“Oh, don’t even try and deny it, just tell me how you're going to woo her.”

“Woo her? What is this, one of your Cary Grant movies? This isn’t the 1930s.”

“Um, Cary Grant was the 1940s. Well, and 50s. And I know what year it is, the year doesn’t matter,” she says with a bright smile, pushing herself off the counter and landing solidly on the tile. “Every girl wants to be wooed, Tobias. You work at a flower shop, she’s upstairs, give her a rose or something!”

“God, it’s like I haven’t taught you anything. A rose is nowhere near the most romantic flower, it’s too cliche,” he mutters. He’s barely listening to her response, though, too busy imagining what would happen if CJ knew the full truth behind the bouquets he gives her every morning. His gift for her every single day, love and adoration and strength, placed delicately in a vase and arranged to perfection. And she still thinks it is just a decoration for her shop, a way to brighten up the waiting room in between the burly guys and terrifying girls who frequented the tattoo parlor. CJ had no idea what the flowers really meant.

Donna grabs a handful of blood red roses, camellias and carnations from the shelf— a handful that had probably been painstakingly put together and shelved by him, or Sam, or Ginger, or even Donna herself two days prior— and threads one through her hair with a concentration and precision Toby envies. She holds the rest out to him with a knowing look.

“Sometimes cliches are cliche for a reason.”

A retort dances on the tip of his tongue, a retort that will surely remind Donna he isn’t about to take romantic advice from a woman whose only experience is with douchey ex-boyfriends and her new boss— the boss she had pined after for years, long before she had been given a job.

But he doesn’t get a chance to answer before the old bell rings on the door, pulling him out of his thoughts. Toby looks up— and in less than a minute, he’s finding the customer the exact right flower to give to a new neighbor (forsythia, for anticipation of good things to come, apple blossoms, for good fortune, and peppermint, for cordiality).

It reminds him of the flowers he gave to CJ when she first moved in, after they met for the first time. He still remembers the way she looked, walking into the shop, her ever-present grace and fire shaking him to his core. The customer leaves and he’s left to stare at his wall of flowers, nothing to focus on but Ginger and Bonnie’s quiet whispers in the storeroom and the pounding rhythm from the deafening music upstairs. He only sits for a minute before his mind drifts back to thoughts of CJ.

And in a second, like someone had whispered it into his ear, he remembers exactly why today was a big day. Six months ago, she had started her tattoo shop. Five months and three weeks ago, he’d seen her face through a glass door and his heart had practically stopped. She said she likes surprises— a small detail that’s managed to stay in his memory for all these months, like a diamond buried in sand waiting for someone to come along and lift it out. And if his father had been able to charm her with flowers, so can he. He’s a hell of a lot more likable than his father. But that isn’t the point, Toby reminds himself. The point is to celebrate his friend’s victory. If there was ever an occasion for flowers, this is it.

He decides to create a bouquet that reminds him of her— daffodils and dahlias and daisies, gladiolus and ivy and yellow jasmine and kennedia. He doesn’t dwell on what they mean for too long, the sentiment behind the flowers obvious to him but hopefully not to anyone else. His plan fails in a remarkably short time.

“Hey, boss— well, that’s a very romantic bouquet,” Ginger points out with a curious glance, poking her head out of the back room.

“Boyfriend or crush?” Bonnie adds on as she hugs her girlfriend from behind.

Toby doesn’t answer. He’s too busy trying to think of a way to get out of this conversation— apparently, the sentiment was obvious to everyone. The downside of working in a flower shop was that the romantic flowers never went unnoticed. They all know the bestsellers, of course, the red roses and tulips and orchids, typically bought by a regretful boyfriend who they all knew was going to be dumped in 2 to 6 business days. But a bouquet like this either means a customer had done a hell of a lot of research, or someone in the shop had picked the flowers themself. So, in a few seconds, Toby’s private, meaningful bouquet is about to become everyone’s business.

“I don't know,” he mutters. He can’t even think of a feasible lie— he’s too busy trying to calm his heartbeat that’s pounding in his chest, faster than the most enthusiastic drummer in a Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade.

“Uh, I think it’s a crush,” Ginger notes. “Gladiolus and daffodils? Seriously—“ She shakes her head, the amused reaction of someone in a happy, stable relationship who had forgotten what it was like to be one of the lonely hearts. “—It screams unrequited love.”

Toby’s head snaps up at that. “Love?” he sputters. “That’s just- I don't know. I think it’s just a crush.”

He’s showing all his cards, now, and one of the girls is bound to figure out who put together the bouquet in a minute or two. But he doesn’t care. He turns around, about to walk to the cashier and hoping no one stops in.

“So,” Donna steps into his path with a knowing glance, the glance of someone who’s very obviously been listening this whole time. “You made the bouquet, right?”

“Donna—“

“Oh!” She lets out an excited squeal and throws her arms around him, before realizing exactly what she was doing.

“Donna,” he sighs.

“Right. Sorry. But is this-“ she lowers her voice. “This is you wooing, right?”

Toby lets out an exasperated groan. But she’s right, of course. This is, in some twisted way, his idea of wooing. Donna spends the rest of her shift giving him tips on what to say to CJ while simultaneously filling orders in the storeroom, a combination that leads to more than a few mistakes on her part.

But eventually, she leaves, and he’s left with a too-long lunch break to contemplate how to give CJ the gift. They’re just flowers, he reminds himself. Don’t make it weird, Ziegler. But his gift is more than just flowers, it’s a reminder that there’s someone rooting for her. A reminder that he’s proud of all she’s done in this past six months. Well, that’s what he hopes it’ll be.

Toby hears the bell ring and looks up— for once, he’s not expecting to be CJ. But it is. She stands outside and meets his eye with a careful glance, more anxious than usual. This is the moment he’s been waiting for, he thinks as she comes in.

“I got you coffee,” she says without a greeting.

He can’t stop staring at her. God, she’s beautiful. Tattoos dance down her back like battle scars, tangible reminders of her strength every time she walks into a room.

“Thanks, CJ.” Donna swoops in with an easy smile and gives Toby a nudge, silently telling him to stop staring like a pervert and to say something. Or maybe her look said none of that, and he was just projecting.

“You’re- uh, thanks for the coffee,” he says abruptly, turning back to the task at hand.

“It wasn’t for you.” She smirks as she says it, eyes dragging over his body in a way that made Toby feel like a live wire. He can feel her eyes sparking with electricity as she watched him stock the new shipment of flowers.

God, she makes him act like such an idiot.

Toby can't imagine what CJ must think of him, the owner of the shop downstairs who has a huge crush on her and couldn’t form more than a few sentences when she was in his line of sight. She’s just so strong, so pretty— not that beauty is all that mattered to him, but it’s practically impossible not to notice her deep brown eyes and hair that flowed down her back like a cascading waterfall. And her grace, the way she commands all the attention when she walks into the room, how she is sharp but never cold, never mean. And her genius amazes him— he isn’t one to be overly complimentary of another person, but she’s taken a part of the building that hadn’t had customers in years, and turned it into a lively, successful tattoo parlor. He knows they’ve only talked a few times in the months since she had started her shop, but her very presence brightens up his store.

She is like a sunflower, light following wherever she goes.

And maybe she has no idea who he is, beyond someone she talked to occasionally who brought her flowers for her shop. But for some reason, he still finds himself desperately wanting to know more about this woman with a million tattoos adorning her arms, this woman who knew his father and loves Donna as much as he does and has turned a lifeless corner into a booming business. He wants her, and it feels inevitable, a predestined fate that was sealed the moment he first saw her.

CJ leans her arms on the counter and lets her head fall. He isn’t sure what to do. So he doesn’t ask questions, doesn’t press, just pulls out a chair and motions for her to come sit in it. That lifts the awkwardness out of the room, thankfully, as she collapses into the chair next to where he’s working. They sit there for a while, just like that. And then he feels her breath on his shoulder and suddenly can’t think of anything but how good she smells, and how easy it would be to turn around and pull her closer. She’s like a magnet, this woman. It drives him crazy.

“Toby?” Her voice is soft, delicate, nothing like the steely way she usually speaks.

“Yeah,” he swallows, preparing to answer a question about why he acts so weird whenever she’s there.

“What’s the bouquet for?”

He turns around and follows her eyes to the bright bouquet of flowers still on the counter— the bouquet he made for her less than 20 minutes ago.

“You,” he manages to say. Her eyes widen, a delighted smile growing on her face. “I mean, it’s your sixth month here. I figured you deserved a gift for the shop’s anniversary. I know it’s not much, but—

“No.” She stops him, hands over her heart like he’s touched her deep inside, in a place behind her walls and behind her cool facade, the place where her strength lives. It pulls on his heartstrings, the thought of her choosing to trust him with that. It lights him up inside— the thought that he made her happy, even for a minute, hits him in a place he didn’t know was able to feel so deeply.

“I- really? I mean, thank you, it’s beautiful.”

“So are you.” He regrets the words as soon as they leave his mouth. Who said stuff like that? He isn’t some cheap hack trying to pick her up at a bar, he’s her friend.

CJ’s eyes are wide as she tries to pick out the meaning of his words. He worries he stepped over the line, ventured into the unknown territory they have yet to allow inside their newly-forged friendship.

“Well, you certainly are a gentleman,” she laughs a little bit. It didn’t feel like a joke. The air between them is taut, filled with more tension than a magnetic field. CJ leans in, just a little bit. And suddenly Toby wants nothing more than to lean into her, to pull her close and show her how much he had meant his words. But instead, he pulls away. She was like the sun, and he knows that if he leans in, they will collide. They will burn bright and flame out in an instant. She matters too much to him for it to be a fling, and right now, that was all they would have. Toby grabs the bouquet and holds it in between them.

“Here,” he breathes, hoping she’ll stay for a while longer but also knowing that if she does, his resolve will crumble in a second. “Congratulations.”

CJ gives him a cautious, slightly confused, smile— “Thanks.”

She takes it from his hands, fingers brushing as he lets go. She blushes, the pink on her cheeks complimenting her black camisole. He watches her go, the bell ringing as the door slams shut. He hears it again a few minutes later, a few customers filing in to fill the stretch of emptiness that happens in the hours when he’s the only one in the shop.

He doesn’t love CJ. He barely even knows enough to like her, but that is something that happened without him even noticing. Like a wave crashing against the shore, he didn’t realize until he was drowning in it. CJ Cregg is an enigma, a woman who can make anything happen and does, a woman who makes him feel like he’s breathing in electricity.

Life’s a funny thing, Toby thinks. No one ever sees the big things coming, until suddenly your estranged father is dead and you’re the sole owner of his flower shop.

It’s startling, how much the last year has changed him. The thing he always was ashamed of growing up, something he never quite understood as a kid, has somehow become his solace. It’s grasped onto his heart, this lively little corner of DC, and refuses to let go. He even finds he’s minding the shrill bell above the door less as the months go by, and the silence more than more. A customer walks in, and Toby rises to help him. He pushes the thoughts to the back of his mind— his unnecessarily morose self-reflection can wait. He has a job to do.

#ahhhh i did it!!!#i’m sure there are many mistakes but. here you go. this is obviously for the #tww flowershop au #tww #tww fic #my fic #fic tag #cj x toby #aleena writes #okay guess i’m doing this!!

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somebigface · 2 years

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*Elli was true to her word and stayed with all three of the brothers the entire night. She plans to stay with her family here in Allervale while they take time to process everything. Gabriel’s story, Lebone’s, Umbriel’s, Seraphim’s, and the bombshell that Abe was related by blood to The Three Oracles. During the night and with Alf’s permission, she had Abe and Toby spend the night as his place with them. She had made a little spot in the living room area. a sort of fort made of blankets, cushions, and many bowls of snacks and drinks close by. The three had fallen asleep cuddled close to the larger queen. She had them all in a loving hug as they slept. She was the last one still awake when the brothers had long drifted off to sleep. Elli began thinking to herself and connecting the dots in her head silently.

*Alf did have a few of the same traits Pats did. Pats was more of an Anti-social grump with a lack of control on his emotions…Alf seemed to be the one who had his emotions in check but still capable of lashing out of he was pushed too hard. Especially when it came to protecting his brothers. Toby had the anxiety and fear of confliction as Fute did. The fear of failure when it came to making a difference or helping others…Fute had it to a higher degree than Toby… then there was Abe. Abe and Prez seemed like polar opposites whenever they interacted…but just the other day she did catch the family mud demi-god just sobbing pitifully. No sign of any of his brothers. Why was he crying so hard…? it was…like she was watching Abe for a moment.

*No… It couldn’t be… Could it…? Odd’s sake she was going to be up all night thinking about this.*

------------------------------------------------------

*Morning comes. The Oracles’ presences would be missing from Oddworld. So would Umbriel’s, Lebone’s, and even Seraphim was quiet this morning. They were all gathered within Mother Odd’s Garden. Pats' trial was about to commence. Mother Odd and Afareet acted as the judges. Pats was the one facing judgement, everyone else in attendance being witnesses.

*The goddess pulled a scroll out and began to read over it*

“Pats. You stand before us under the charges of interference with the path of fate that could affect the mortals…Abraham Lure to be precise. How do you plead?”

“Guilty, My mother. I take full accountability for my actions. I suffered a great emotional moment and a lapse of judgement. I know that I could have put Abe’s future at risk. And I am ready to face any punishment you and Afareet can dispense on me”

*Mother Odd rolled the scroll back up and put it away. Her expression seemed emotionless*

“We’ll get to the final verdict in a minute then. Fute? Step forward.”

*Fute began to rub his hands together nervously. His head bowed low in nervousness. He bowed before the goddess and Mother Odd nodded her head to return the gesture*

“Fute? Show us the fate of Abe now that this secret came out. While Abe would have found out about his lineage eventually, it was not the time to reveal that information. The threads leading into the future are very delicate. Show us what has happened because of your brothers meddling.”

*Fute extended his arms out, his eyes and mouth emitting a bright purple light. A vision began to play out before everyone:

The setting was within Allervale. Abe appeared to be dressed as a keeper now instead of his old outfit. His feathers have grown out. Much longer than originally seen. Abe and Rayia were together and were approaching the gates of the village. They were greeted to Elli, who had Big Face’s mask hanging from her back, Alf who had his fez in place, and two other parties. Two children. One of them had pale grey skin and one shimmery purple feather sticking up on her head. Her eyes were the same shade of purple. She had a finger sticking in her mouth and appeared sweet yet shy. The other child was the splitting image of Alf and refused to leave Alf’s side. The children greeted Abe and Rayia and ran into the village. They met with an older Arlina, Isaac, and even Gideon. Gideon began to lead the group of friends off to go play. The vision came to an end and Mother Odd began to laugh cheerfully and clapped*

“Oh this is wonderful! Absolutely outstanding! This is a much better outcome than the last one! It seemed to improve now that this information came out sooner than planned!”

“So…what does this mean…my mother?” -Pats asked nervously. The Goddess’ eyes held a much warmer glow to them now as she spoke to Pats-

“Pats, We must be more careful in our line of work about making these types of mistakes. We are powerful beings and can easily damage the Oddworld if we are not careful. We do not want a remake of what Lebone has done to my world.” -Lebone was heard giving an audible growl, but stayed silent as he was not permitted to speak- “If Abe were to find out that his future changed. He may have convinced himself that we all lied to him, when it was never the case. Mistakes like that can be so hard to forgive. Gods, Demi-gods, deities of all kinds…must abide by rules. To protect our balance that has already been so badly damaged. Chaos would run rampant if we did everything without limitations, rules, or punishment.

Trial dismissed… And Pats…?”

“Yes, My Mother?”

“The Three of you have my permission to tell Abe everything. I have looked deeper into Fute’s vision, and I do not see any changes if you tell him the whole truth now… And do give Kyung my blessings will you?”

*Pats almost choked when Mother Odd made that final comment*

“y-…you mean…?”

“Have fun my dear! You have permission to follow through on that. Now. Take care!”

*Pats was in deep shock, his brothers went to his side and pulled him into their hug. he slowly tried to hug them both with his only arm…the shock still clear on his face and a few tears escaping his eyes.*

#In character update #Oddtumblr #Long Post

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pikapeppa · 4 years

Text

Lovers In A Dangerous Time: Epilogue

The final chapter of my Fenris the Inquisitor fic is up on AO3. 😭♥😭♥

~ 4460 words. Read on AO3 instead.

******************************

Eighteen months later…

Fenris padded silently through the woods.

The air was fresh and cool with rain, and it was something of a relief. The thunderstorm had been brewing all day yesterday, and the breaking of the late-night storm had finally chased off some of the ridiculous summer humidity. But the cool would dissipate soon under the strength of the brilliant Rivaini sun, so Fenris savoured the dampness of the grass and leaves under his bare feet as he made his way to the beach.

Fifteen silent, peaceful minutes later, the soothing hush of water on sand met his ears. A short distance away to the east, there was a cozy-looking cabin tucked in the woods at the border of the beach.

He didn’t bother to go to the cabin; she wouldn’t be there anyway, not on such a beautiful day.

He continued to pick his way through the woods, and the plants underfoot transitioned into sand as the trees thinned out. When he finally stepped onto the beach, Fenris pushed back the hood of his cloak.

Hawke was sitting cross-legged on a picnic blanket close to the shore. Isabela was lounging on the blanket beside her, and Faren was sitting between them with a rattle in one chubby fist.

He waved the rattle haphazardly and laughed, and Fenris smiled helplessly at the sound of his son’s mirth. Faren might only be ten months old, but Fenris was convinced that his laugh already sounded like his mother’s.

Hawke looked up and met his eye, and he returned her brilliant smile. He removed his cloak and made his way across the sand, which was already collecting heat from the morning sun, and as he neared the blanket, he recognized a voice: Dorian’s voice, which was emanating from the glowing sending crystal in Hawke’s hand.

Dorian was singing a Tevene folk song, and Faren was moving his round little body in time to Dorian’s voice. Fenris smirked and sat on the blanket behind his son.

“Avanna, little man,” he said, and he ran his palm over Faren’s raven-haired head.

Faren squealed happily and waved his rattle, and Dorian spoke through the crystal. “Ah, Fenris. Back from town, I presume? I’ve decided to teach your child Tevene.”

“I see,” Fenris said dryly. He carefully lifted the baby onto his lap. “Equipping him to join forces with you someday, I presume?”

“Precisely,” Dorian said. “He’ll be my protégé.”

“No,” Fenris said.

Dorian blithely went on as though Fenris hadn’t spoken. “I’ll teach him all the best ways to debate with a roomful of magisters and how to sniff out poisons…”

Isabela yawned. “Sounds like you’d be training him to be a bard.”

“You’d be surprised how often a bard’s skills overlap with those of a magister,” Dorian said. “Or perhaps you wouldn’t. In any case, Faren will have an extremely well-rounded education by the time I’m finished singing lullabies to him.”

Fenris rolled his eyes, and Hawke giggled. “Lovely plans, Dorian, but we might need to get him walking and feeding himself before he can start spotting assassins.”

Dorian tsked. “Now you’re just underestimating his abilities. Call me again when I can start teaching him something interesting.”

Fenris huffed. “As though you won’t be calling us before the end of the week to complain about some Tevinter foible or another.”

“I’m sorry, Fenris, poor connection, I didn’t catch that,” Dorian announced. “Anyway, I must go now; my scintillating presence is required by my current protégés.” He adopted a high-pitched voice. “Bye-bye, Faren. I know you’ll miss my lovely voice until next time.”

Hawke tickled Faren’s tummy. “Come on, Faren, say bye-bye to Uncle Dorian.”

Faren burbled a laugh and waved his hand, and Hawke chuckled. “He’s waving goodbye,” she told Dorian. “We’ll speak to you later!” She made a kissing noise into the crystal.

Dorian chuckled, and the sending crystal’s glowing light went dark. Hawke hung the sending crystal around her neck and smiled at Fenris. “How was Afsaana?”

“Loud and busy, as always,” he said. “They were out of pomegranates, if you can believe it, but I fetched the post.”

Isabela tsked. “No pomegranates? In Afsaana? You probably just didn’t ask them nicely.”

Hawke smirked. “What sort of ‘asking’ are you suggesting? Showing off a little leg? A little flash of cleavage, maybe?”

Isabela grinned. “A little flash of my daggers, more like.”

Fenris scoffed, then leaned in to Faren’s ear. “Don’t listen to Isabela. She is a poor example to follow.”

Faren cooed and patted his face, and Isabela snickered. “If you’re hoping to keep the little monster from following my example, you’d better find yourselves a different charter to Kirkwall tomorrow. Me and my crew won’t be watching our mouths just for your bloody baby.”

Hawke laughed. “Don’t worry about that. I can’t catch myself swearing half the time. Faren’s first real word is probably going to be ‘fuck’.”

Isabela barked out a laugh, and Faren giggled and reached for her with both hands. “Bababa!” he burbled.

Hawke grinned. “Look at him, going straight for your breasts. He’s a boy after my own heart.”

“Fasta vass, Hawke,” Fenris said in exasperation, and Hawke and Isabela cackled.

A loud and joyful bark carried over the gentle rush of the tide, followed by a second even louder bark, and they all turned to look: Toby and Landon were romping toward them with Cullen and Piper following in their wake.

“Landon!” Cullen shouted, to little effect; the younger mabari was racing full-tilt across the sand toward them.

Fenris shook his head ruefully and tucked Faren against his chest. “Piper, can you—”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got him!” she yelled, and she pelted after Landon and practically tackled him before he could reach their group.

Faren squealed delightedly and waved his arms. Toby barked again as he neared them, then pranced around Fenris with his tail wagging madly, but Fenris frowned.

“If you want to play with Faren, what do you have to do?” he said sternly.

Toby immediately settled into a sitting pose, though his tail continued to sweep happily across the sand, and Fenris nodded. “Good. All right, little man, let us see how you can stand.” He set Faren on the blanket beside Toby, and Faren immediately reached for the mabari.

Isabela stretched out on her side again. “I still can’t believe he’s not scared of Toby. I've never seen a child so small who wasn’t scared of mabari.”

“Of course Faren isn’t scared,” Hawke said proudly. “He’s very brave, just like his father.” She winked at Fenris.

He gave her a chiding smile, and they watched contentedly as Faren gripped a very obedient Toby’s fur and pulled himself upright. Once Faren was on his feet, he started babbling non-stop to Toby and patting his back as he tried to keep his balance.

Isabela smirked at Hawke. “This chatty thing he’s doing? That’s all you.”

Hawke threw her head back and laughed. “Don’t be ridiculous! He’s definitely more like Fenris. He’s smart and brave and handsome.”

Isabela shook her head. “He looks like Fenris,” she corrected. “He acts like you.”

“Faren looks like Hawke, too,” Fenris interjected. “He has her eyes.”

“Her eye colour, maybe,” Isabela said. “But he looks like you. The pouty lips, the nose…”

“The black hair,” Hawke added. “I’m still convinced your hair was black before the lyrium tattoos.”

Fenris shrugged; he was sure she was right. “The point still stands: Faren is more like you,” he told her. “He is talkative, impulsive, getting his little fingers in everything…”

“He’s also exceedingly charming and adorable, no?” Hawke said with a winsome smile.

He gazed fondly at her. “Especially that,” he said.

Isabela rolled her eyes. “The pair of you are sickening. Forget being seasick, I’ll be vomiting during the trip to Kirkwall because of you.”

Fenris and Hawke chuckled, and Faren gurgled happily. A moment later, Cullen and Piper joined them, Cullen with one hand firmly on a wriggling Landon’s collar.

“I apologize for Landon’s behaviour,” he panted. “Next time we visit, he’ll be better behaved, I swear it.” He frowned at the mabari. “Won’t you, Landon?”

Landon wagged his tail and barked. Faren jolted in startlement at the sound, then plopped onto his bottom. His coppery eyes went wide, and Isabela sighed. “Oh, here we go,” she drawled.

Sure enough, Faren started wailing. Before he could really get going, Hawke swept him into her arms. “There there, all right, you’re all right,” she crooned. “Falling down is terrible, isn’t it? But you’re fine now, no need to cry!” She swayed from side to side and rubbed Faren’s back, and a few seconds later, Faren was smiling again and gripping Hawke’s shirt in his chubby fists.

“Can I hold him?” Piper asked eagerly. “I need a little more turnip time before Cullen and I head out.”

“Of course!” Hawke said. She handed Faren over to Piper, and Faren immediately tangled his fists in Piper’s wavy silver hair.

She winced. “Oof! Go easy, Faren. I’m not used to other men getting their hands in my hair like this.”

Hawke and Isabela cackled, and Cullen cleared his throat. “Piper, please,” he muttered. “Not in front of the baby.”

Piper snorted. “Oh, he’s heard much worse around his raunchy parents and his raunchy auntie Isabela. Haven’t you, da’len?”

Faren cooed and pulled Piper’s hair, and Piper smiled hopefully at Fenris and Hawke. “Can Cullen and I take him for a little walk? I spotted a creek just up the way with some tadpoles in it. I wanted to show him what baby frogs look like.”

“Yes,” Fenris said. “But keep a good hold on him. If he sees something he wants, he will lunge for it, so hold him well.”

“I will,” Piper promised.

“And here, take this with you,” Fenris said. He picked up the satchel of baby supplies that Hawke had brought from their cabin and handed it to Cullen. “There is a bottle of water there; make sure he drinks some of it, it’s getting hot. And if he needs to be changed–”

“I can change diapers, Fenris,” Cullen said. “I have a nephew, if you’ll recall.”

“Right,” Fenris said. “Right.” He rubbed his nose, then turned to Hawke. “When was he last fed? Perhaps we should feed him, or send a snack–”

“I fed him about fifteen minutes ago, and he had a piece of banana ten minutes before that,” Hawke said. She stroked his arm. “It’s all right, Fenris. He can go for a little walk with Piper and Cullen.”

“I’ll go too,” Isabela said. “I’ll handle Toby and Landon while Piper handles your little monster.”

Fenris raised a sardonic eyebrow. “Is that meant to comfort me?”

“It should,” Hawke said slyly. “Isabela’s very good at handling two men at once.”

Piper and Isabela burst out laughing, and Faren bobbed in Piper’s arms and squealed happily.

Cullen tutted. “I quite agree, Faren. Let’s get you away from these lewd influences, all right?” He took Faren from Piper and began to walk away along the beach.

Piper beamed at Fenris. “Don’t worry, we’ll take good care of him!” She hurried after Cullen with the two mabari and Isabela close behind.

Once they were out of earshot, Hawke started to laugh. Fenris shot her a rueful look and stretched his legs out. “What is so amusing?”

She sat beside him and leaned into his shoulder. “You. You’re so fussy about Faren, it’s adorable. I never really understood the ‘doting fathers are sexy’ thing, but now I do.”

Fenris huffed. “You think it is sexy that I’m fussing over our son?”

“I do,” she said pertly. “I really, really do.” She tilted her chin up for a kiss.

He smirked at her, then leaned in and gave her a gentle kiss. Her lips parted slowly and softly, like the petals of a flower unfurling at dawn, and Fenris savoured the freshness of her tongue contrasted with the taste of salt on her lips from bathing in the sea.

A delicious, lazy moment later, he leaned away from her. “I have a proposition for you,” he murmured.

She smiled at him through half-lidded eyes. “Mm. You have my attention.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I will read the post to you.”

She laughed. “Ooh, that is sexy. You know just how to turn me on. Go on, read to me in that lovely voice of yours.”

He smiled and pulled out three letters from his pocket – all of them addressed to Leto, to preserve his and Hawke’s privacy when they went to town.

He ripped open the first envelope. “All right,” he said. “This one is from Cassandra.”

Fenris,

I hope this letter finds you well. We had heard that there might be a hurricane on the coast of Rivain, so I hope you will plan your defenses accordingly for your cabin. Why are you yawning? Is the content of my letter boring to you? Ugh, perhaps it is boring. Nobody wants to read about the weather.

Maybe you can tell them – yes, I know what to say. Please tell Hawke that the College of Magi are cooperating reasonably well with the Circle. Grand Enchanter Vivienne continues to be… hard-headed. Frankly, she is a pain to deal with, but a powerful force nonetheless. I suppose some would say the same of me, so I should not complain. In any case, Vivienne and Fiona are frequently butting heads, but it seems to be keeping both the Circle and the College on their toes. I am monitoring the situation, and I pray to the Maker that I will not have to step in, but only time will tell.

Our scarlet friend is doing well and getting up to no trouble whatsoever. She said to give cookies and kisses to the wee widdle. Do not look at me like that, she insisted that I pass the message on that way.

I appreciate your updates on Faren’s growth. I would dearly like to meet him someday. If ever you decide to visit Val Royeaux – oh, I’m being ridiculous, they would not want to visit Val Royeaux. I wouldn’t visit Val Royeaux if I didn’t live here. Perhaps I can find an excuse to visit Kirkwall during one of the months when Fenris and Hawke are staying with Varric. Make a note, will you? Find a reason for me to meet with Kirkwall’s Grand Cleric in two months’ time. Fenris and Hawke will still be in Kirkwall, and I can meet their child then.

This is a terrible letter, isn’t it? You know what, it is not my fault that these letters are bad. Nobody taught me how to dictate. I like to think this is better than the last few. Why in the Maker’s name are you laughing? Just finish this up, will you?

Walk in Andraste’s Holy Light, Divine Victoria

Hawke hiccuped and wiped a happy tear from the corner of her eye. “Oh Cassandra,” she chortled. “Maker’s balls, I love her. She isn’t getting any better at dictating, is she?”

“She really isn’t,” Fenris said fondly. “All right, this next letter is from Rainier.”

Dear Fenris and Hawke,

I’m writing to you from Markham. Bit of a risky place to visit since I’m known here, but I suppose I’m older and broader than I used to be. I haven’t been hassled much since arriving, aside from a few dirty looks, which is fair enough.

The prison guards were suspicious when I first arrived. More so when I told them I just wanted to talk to the prisoners, no other plans, no other plots. But they let me talk to them eventually, and I like to think I gave a little bit of comfort and hope – like you and Hawke gave to me when I was at my worst. I like to think Cole would approve too, if the lad was still here.

I was thinking that we could bring Faren to Markham when he’s older to see the Grand Tourney. I’d be happy to introduce him to the sport. I can teach him to ride as well, once he’s big enough. A pony to start – they’re easy to guide, not as high off the ground and a little less frightening. But maybe I’m getting ahead of myself, since he’s not walking yet.

I will be back in Rivain in a few weeks – probably not long after you receive this letter, truth be told. I’ll keep your cabin in good shape for you while you’re in Kirkwall, as usual. If you need any repairs done, leave me a note on the kitchen table, and I’ll get to it before you come back.

Regards to you and the little tyke.

Thom

Hawke smiled and took the letter from Fenris’s hand. “He’s such a good uncle. And the best handyman!” She ran her thumbs fondly over the parchment. “I still can’t believe he built the cabin for us.”

“We are extremely fortunate,” Fenris agreed. He glanced across the beach at the cozy cabin in the woods where their family lived in for two thirds of the year – a cabin that Blackwall had designed and built with help from Bull and the Chargers. He’d built a second cabin for himself about a kilometer to the east: close enough that Hawke and Fenris saw him frequently when they were all in Rivain, but far enough that they had the privacy that Fenris had craved for so long.

Fenris pulled out the third and last letter, then frowned when he recognized the handwriting. “This is from Varric,” he said.

Hawke raised her eyebrows. “From Varric? But he knows we’re setting sail tomorrow. Why would he write so soon before we’re supposed to get to Kirkwall?”

“I’m not sure,” Fenris said slowly. He couldn’t decide if the timing of this letter meant its contents would be time-sensitive, or if it meant they were completely inconsequential, given that Fenris and Hawke could have left Rivain entirely without receiving this letter.

He opened the envelope and read the contents out to Hawke.

Hawke, Fenris,

First of all, calm down. No need to worry. Just wanted to give you a heads-up in case you get this before you leave. One of my friends around the city mentioned a newcomer in Lowtown – in the alienage, specifically. A city elf from the sounds of it; no Dalish tattoos. She’s a real incognito type, really been keeping to the shadows, but word has that she’s got an Orlesian accent.

I mentioned it to Nightingale, and she wondered if this is something you might be interested in looking into while you guys are here. Something tells me our Orlesian friend might be here specifically for you, but we’ll see.

No big deal if you don’t get this before you arrive. Looking forward to getting Faren’s help again with burning my mail. That kid will make a great assistant someday. You know I’m training him up to be the next Viscount, right? Knowing what mail to burn is the most important step. Just ask Bran.

See you soon.

- V.

P.S. You guys have a title for that book of yours yet? My publisher’s breathing down my neck about it. Saying she can’t market it if she doesn’t know what it’s called. She seems to be forgetting that any book co-written by the Inquisitor and the Champion of Kirkwall will sell out about five seconds after it hits the shelves.

Hawke looked up at Fenris with wide eyes. “A city elf with an Orlesian accent that Varric would bother writing to us about?”

“Briala,” Fenris said quietly. “I can’t think who else it would be.”

“Maker’s balls,” Hawke breathed. “You think…? I assumed she was on Solas’s side!”

“I assumed Solas had killed her,” Fenris said baldly. “I’m shocked to hear she is alive. If this incognito elf is really her.”

Her eyebrows rose. “You think he would have killed her?”

“He is willing to kill all of us,” Fenris said in a hard tone. “What difference does one more person make?”

She dropped his gaze, and Fenris instantly felt guilty for the harshness of his tone. Then she looked up with a bright smile. “Well, that’ll be something interesting to do while we’re in Kirkwall. Aside from bothering Aveline and Varric.”

He studied her bright smile with a pang. “I don’t bother Aveline and Varric. That’s your purview.”

She snickered and elbowed him. “As though you and Faren aren’t beside me the entire time I’m being a bother. An attractive, charming, helpful bother–”

“Shut up, Hawke,” he drawled, and he pinched her waist.

She squeaked and smacked his hand, and he pinched the other side of her waist until she burst out laughing. When she had settled down, she gently rubbed his unmarked chin. “About the book title, though – Varric has a point. Do you want to hear the titles I was thinking of this morning?”

“All right,” he said easily. Her titles were always terrible, but they were worth hearing anyway, for the laugh at least if nothing else.

“Great,” she said brightly. “First I was thinking about an academic title. Something like this: ‘A Compendium of Elven and Dwarven Myths and Observations From Exploring Remote Corners of the World’.”

He looked at her in surprise. “You came up with that?”

“Yes,” she said. “Why?”

He shrugged. “It’s so… reasonable.”

She laughed and smacked his chest. “Excuse me! Too bad if you like it, because I don’t. Too wordy. So I thought we could tag onto Varric’s novel about the Inquisition and call it ‘The Shit Behind The Shit: This Shit Is Even Weirder’.”

He stared at her. “That is a monstrous excuse for a title.”

She laughed harder. “All right, all right, you’re not wrong. Then I was thinking that, well…” She tapped her fingers on his knee for a moment before speaking again. “The book isn’t about us, but you and I are the ones who picked up all this strange information doing all these strange and risky things, and we interviewed all our friends for details and we wrote it up…”

“Go on,” he said slowly.

She smiled. “What about… ‘Lovers In A Dangerous Time’?”

He gave her an odd look. “But it’s as you said. The book isn’t about us.”

“I know,” she said. “But think what Varric said. People will buy it because we wrote it and we’re famous. I know you hate that,” she said as he pursed his lips, “but it’s true. And in this case, it’s a good thing. We reel people in with a titillating title–”

He scoffed, and she grinned and doggedly continued on. “... and we keep them by spilling all the stuff we know. Or the stuff we think we know, at least. Elf stuff, dwarf stuff, Tevinter stuff and Blight stuff… The more people who read it, the better, right? So we use the title to lure them in.”

He twisted his lips ruefully. She had a point. If knowledge was power, and Fenris’s goal was to disseminate that power…

He gave her a flat look. “With a title like that, people will expect sex in the book.”

“We can put sex in the book,” she said smoothly. She shuffled closer to him on the blanket and petted his chest.

He tutted, but he couldn’t hide his smile. “No, Hawke. This is a serious non-fiction work.”

She kissed his cheekbone, then slid onto his lap to straddle him. “Sex is serious non-fiction work,” she murmured, and she nibbled his earlobe.

A shiver of pleasure ran down his neck, but he harrumphed. “Is that meant to be seductive?”

She smiled sweetly. “Maybe. Did it work? Even a little?”

“No,” he said. He smoothed one hand over her hip.

“Hmm,” she said. “I suppose I should work harder, then.” She brushed her lips to his, and he gave in to the softness of her kiss.

A moment later, he leaned away from her with a sigh. “‘Lovers In A Dangerous Time,’” he mused. He gave her a skeptical look. “Based on the title alone, I wouldn’t read it.”

She tilted her head. “Do you think other people would?”

“Perhaps. Probably,” he admitted.

She gave him a wheedling smile, and Fenris huffed in amusement. “I will consider it,” he said. “Let’s see what Varric thinks.”

“That’s good enough for me,” Hawke said happily. She kissed him once more, then slid off of his lap and tidied the letters, but Fenris noted that her face fell slightly when she glanced at the one from Varric.

A possible lead on Solas, he thought. It had been a long time since Leliana or anyone else had found any significant information about Solas’s movements, and if the mysterious Orlesian elf in Kirkwall really was Briala, this could be a major development.

Or a major trap.

He pushed the concern aside for now. There was nothing they could do until they were in Kirkwall, and until then, there was no point spoiling such a beautiful day with worries.

He stood up and held his hand out to Hawke. “Come. Let’s go join the others.”

She took his hand and rose to her feet. “No need,” she said cheerfully. “They’re right there.”

Fenris looked up. Cullen, Piper, and Isabela were strolling back along the shoreline with Landon and Toby prancing at their heels, and Faren was ensconced in Piper’s arms.

Hawke ran off to meet them. Faren squealed happily when Hawke took him from Piper, and when Fenris joined them, the baby shrieked again and reached for him.

“I am here, little man,” Fenris said. “There’s no need to shout.” He took Faren from Hawke and kissed his hair – soft black hair scented with a special sort of sweetness that Fenris had only ever smelled on his son’s precious head, along with the faintest hint of sandalwood.

“He touched a tadpole,” Piper said brightly. Then she winced. “Almost squished it, actually. But I managed to save it.”

“Good,” Fenris said. He stroked Faren’s back and spoke softly to his son. “Even small lives are worthy of protection. Never forget that.”

Faren yawned, and Fenris kissed his head once more. “I believe someone’s in need of a nap,” he said. He shifted his son’s weight to one hip and took Hawke’s hand.

She squeezed his fingers, and he gazed lovingly at her smiling coppery eyes. Then he turned toward their cozy cabin at the edge of the Rivaini beach.

“Come,” he said. “Let’s go home.”

#fenris #fenris fic #Lovers in a Dangerous Time #fenris the inquisitor #fenquisition #fenhawke #fenris/hawke #fenris x hawke #fenris/femhawke #fenris x femhawke #fenris/f!hawke #fenris x f!hawke #fenrynne #pikapeppa writes #pikapeppa has TOO MANY FEELINGS #SOMEBODY SEDATE ME

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rosemaidenvixen · 3 years

Text

A Secret’s Worth

Chapter 12: Walter and Louis

Ao3

“Are you absolutely certain?”

“Ja,” Otto’s blue eyes sparkled from behind his glasses, telltale golden glimmer flickering just below the surface “I would not waste your time for anything less, Grand Commandant,”

Strickler detected the hint of a tease in Otto’s voice but chose to let it go, the square of vellum laid out on his desk occupying far more of his attention. Had he been a few centuries younger his hand might have shook as he traced the half faded lines of ink.

With this final piece; everything they’d been working for, himself, Otto, the entire order, was now within reach.

“Excellent,” he slid the vellum back towards Otto “I’ll need you on a plane to Mongolia immediately,”

Otto’s face fell, mouth shifting to form a protest.

“The eyestone is perhaps the most crucial piece of the bridge, I need someone I know is not only competent, but highly capable, to retrieve it. And you will have the full resources of the Janus order at your disposal,”

A touch thick with the flattery, and more than a little extravagant; but the order could afford it. Especially since if Otto’s information was true Kilahead would be complete in less than a year. And Strickler felt reasonably confident that there would be little use for company shares and bond holdings once Gunmar reclaimed the surface.

Otto sat back, mollified for now “I will fly out tonight, with any luck I should be able to rendezvous with the Ulaanbaatar branch tomorrow evening, of course planning the expedition will take time. We are certain of the eyestone’s presence, but narrowing down its precise location won’t be--”

“Mr. Strickler?”

Neither of them flinched, far too experienced in the game for that, merely turned and sculpted their features to show appropriate levels of surprise and curiosity while Otto discreetly slid the vellum off the desk and back into his bag.

Tobias Domzalski hesitantly peeked in through the office door “Sorry, am I interrupting? I can come back later,”

“Nein,” Otto got to his feet “I was just leaving,”

“Oh, uh...ok,”

Toby stepped aside and let Otto pass, turning to watch him retreat down the hall with a look of piqued interest on his face.

“Mr. Domzalski?”

The boy snapped back to attention “Oh, uh sorry…..was that a friend of yours?”

“Oh yes, Otto and I go way back,” Strickler gestured for Toby to take a seat at the piano stool across from his desk that Otto had been occupying until just recently “He was just dropping by before heading off to a dig overseas, now what was it you needed?”

Toby sunk onto the stool, face flushed crimson “...am I that obvious?”

Strickler made sure the smile he gave him was only slightly patronizing “When you’ve been doing this as long as I have you get good at spotting these things, but it does look like you have something on your mind. Now what can I do for you?”

“It’s not for me-- and I don’t mean it’s about a friend of a friend that’s secretly me, I mean--” he cut off his babbling with a sharp intake of breath “It’s about Jim,”

Strickler raised an eyebrow “I applaud you for looking out for your friend’s grade point average, but if Jim is struggling in class it would be better if he comes and sees me himself,”

“Not...not help like that,”

His curiosity about Toby’s presence deepened into concern as he saw him shrink further in on himself, a shadow of the outgoing, slightly foolhardy boy he was used to “Jim’s having problems at home,”

The tightening of his fingers around his fountain pen was the only outward sign of the profound shock Strickler felt at that moment.

Problems at home.

The words every teacher dreads hearing.

Strickler pulled himself up straighter and leaned forward ever so slightly, filing all thoughts of Kilahead into the back of his mind to focus entirely on the matter at hand “What sort of problems at home?”

“His mom-- his mom…” he choked, the words almost seeming to physically pain him.

Strickler sat at attention and said nothing, waiting patiently. It might be difficult for him to voice this knowledge, but Toby would unburden himself in his own time.

“His mom locks him in the basement,” Toby said at last, voice cracking towards the end.

For the first time this afternoon the surprise on Strickler’s face was more genuine than not “What?”

He’d been occupying his cover as an educator for a few centuries now, and was fully cognizant of the things that could happen to his students behind closed doors, but rarely was it brought up so bluntly.

“Throws him in the basement and ties the door shut,” his tone took on a heavy darkness “I know because Jim basically admitted it, plus there are the photos,”

“Photos?”

Wordlessly, Toby took out his phone and taped the screen a few times before holding it out towards Strickler. He took the offered device and started thumbing through the gallery.

What he saw painted a very grim picture indeed.

And being experienced as he was, Strickler had a good feeling that he already knew the answer to his next question, but he had to ask it all the same “I agree that these photos are rather...damning, but you also said Jim also admitted this was taking place, may I ask why you’re here and he is not?”

If Toby had been punched in the stomach at that exact moment his expression would have been identical “Because ten seconds after admitting it he started denying it,”

He suspected something like this might be the case, but that didn’t mean he was happy about being right.

Strickler netted his fingers and let out a measured sigh “I can see why this would be difficult for you,”

“I-- it’s just…we said we’d help him, and he has to know this isn’t ok, so why would he…” Toby trailed off, voice thick with emotion and the beginnings of tears.

He could quite keep the tired look off his face as he watched Toby hunch over and start to tremble, pondering the best way to respond.

There were dozens of potential answers to that question, none of them good. Fear of retaliation, misguided loyalty, twisted sense of familial obligation. Strickler settled on the one that would make the most sense given what he knew about the situation.

“Because it’s all he’s ever known,”

Toby looked up at him, eyes brimming.

Strickler leaned forward, voice as gentle as gauze “I don’t want to comment on something I know so little about, but when a person spends their whole life believing certain behaviors are normal, it can be difficult for them to recognize when they truly need help,”

“Yeah,” Toby said darkly “I can get that,”

It was at that moment Strickler remembered precisely how long Jim and Toby had known each other.

“Tobias, Jim’s situation is not your fault,”

“Oh yes it is!” Toby snapped at him with a surprising amount of force “I’ve known Jim for over a decade-- we’ve been in every class together since kindergarten! How could I not…”

He trailed off, last few words closer to sobs.

Strickler stood up from his desk and walked over to kneel down and look Toby in the eye “Because you were just a child yourself, because your friend’s safety should never have been your responsibility,”

“But it-- it--,” he hiccupped out the words, clearly trying desperately not to cry “It shouldn’t have taken me this long to notice!”

Tense silence filled Strickler’s office. He remained steadfast and unflinching from his position besides Toby for a few moments before speaking up again.

“Maybe the best time to come forward was ten years ago, but the second best time is now,”

Toby sniffled and raised his head to look him in the eye.

“It might have taken you a while to see these things, but the instant you realized what was going on with Jim you went to get him help. That’s all anyone can do, and is considerably more than what most chose to do,”

Strickler had been through this particular song and dance before, and he wasn’t so naive to believe that his words alone had the power to cure Toby of the raging storm of conflicted, contradictory emotions inside him, but seeing the boy wipe away his tears and hold himself just a little straighter, he knew that they’d helped somewhat.

Situation better in hand now, Strickler walked back around to sit at his desk “Thank you for bringing this to my attention, if you can email me those photos I will pass them, along with everything you’ve told me, down to the right people and make sure Jim’s situation is thoroughly investigated,”

He paused, debating whether this last inclusion would be welcome or not “If you want to help Jim in the meantime, the best way is to try to stay close to him. I know it might be hard, but he’s going to need a friend more than anything in the coming weeks,”

“Ok...I’ll try,”

“Now, are you alright to go to your next class or do you need a moment?”

“I’ll-- I’ll email you the pictures, then I think I’m gonna….take five...for a little bit,” Toby said while pulling up his phone and not so discreetly rubbing his eyes.

Strickler nodded at him in acknowledgement while pulling out his laptop and searching his contacts for an email address he only used in the most dire of circumstances.

This situation should be followed up to the letter. It would take up more of his time than he’d prefer while also supervising the acquisition of the last few bridge pieces, but he couldn’t afford to do anything less. Kilahead may be nearing completion, but that was no reason to let his cover slack. If anything now more than ever it was important to maintain the facade. This close to the end any slip ups could undo centuries of hard work.

When he heard Toby sniffle again, Strickler very deliberately did not look up.

And although he would never admit as much, Strickler did feel somewhat sentimental towards his students. He prefered that they be allowed to enjoy the last few months of the world as they knew it in as much safety and comfort as possible.

Once Gunmar returned, any semblance of safety and comfort would vanish from their lives.

Still...these types of investigation proved to be tedious and lengthy even at the best of times. Extending from now to the bridge’s completion was certainly a possibility

Perhaps if the situation was severe enough to warrant it he could arrange a late parent teacher conference on one of the nights Bular was due to pay him a visit….

Strickler had to stop a small chuckle from escaping his lips.

Pale lady forgive him, he really was going soft.

Louis muttered an ugly curse as his keys fell to the floor with a clatter. Dammit that was the third time this week he’d dropped his keychain while trying to hang it up. Were his reflexes starting to go or were the ten hour shifts just that draining?

Biting back a blue streak, he picked up and rehung his keys before slipping his shoes off and stepping into the front hall.

“Darci, you home?” he called out while continuing on to the living room “Dinner’s in the crockpot,”

Glancing around, Louis stopped in his tracks when he saw that Darci was indeed at home and sitting on the couch, her friends Mary and Claire sitting on either side of her. Normally this wouldn’t be any cause for concern, the three were practically joined at the hip, but their tensed shoulders and worried frowns told a different story.

“What happened, is everything ok?”

Darci briefly looked up and met his eyes, before tearing her gaze away with a grimace “No...not really,”

His hands tightened into fists “Who was it, who’s bothering you?” whatever punk out there that had dared upset his little girl was going to have Detective Louis Scott bring the wrath of god down on his scrawny--

“But not with me,” she looked from side to side “Or any of us,”

Just like that the wind was out of his sails “Oh,” calmer now, he stepped over and sank onto the easy chair across from them “Ok, then who?”

Her face twisted into a deep wince, Claire reaching up to put a comforting arm around her and picking up where she left off “You remember Jim, right Mr. Scott?”

Louis raised an eyebrow “Yes?”

He certainly remembered Darci and her friends spending a lot of time with two new boys almost immediately after starting high school. To say the least, he hadn’t exactly been thrilled, but didn’t try to interfere. Boys were a fact of life, and Darci was going to spend time with them whether he liked it or not. And he’d heard plenty of cautionary tales from other fathers about what happened when they hung on to their daughters too tightly. Besides, Darci had never given him any reason not to trust her judgement so Louis saw no reason to start now. So he made it his policy to let Darci spend her time how she wanted and with who she wanted, within reason of course. And on more than one occasion he had sat her down to discuss what kind of behaviors in other people were red flags and made it crystal clear that she could always go to him for advice and help. But for the most part he left her to her own devices, even when it set his nerves on edge to do so. After all, he very well couldn’t spend her whole life chasing away boys with a baseball bat.

But he’d be lying if he said the idea didn’t tempt him from time to time.

“Ok…What about Jim?”

Claire went gaunt and silent, Darci worked her jaw, struggling to get the words out “I-- it’s…”

“His mom locks him in the basement,” Mary blurted out for her.

For a moment Louis didn’t know how to react, as a member of law enforcement and a mandated reporter, he consciously knew that if any of his friends or acquaintances wanted to report abuse of any kind he’d be the first person they’d go to. Better to talk to someone they already knew and trusted than a faceless government entity that may or may not actually take them seriously.

But knowing didn’t prepare him for when it actually happened. When his daughter came to him and said one of her friends was in trouble. He’d met Jim on a few occasions, seen Dr. Lake in passing and spoken on the phone with her frequently. He seemed like an ok kid, she seemed like a nice enough woman, neither of them ever gave off any signs that something sinister was lurking beneath the surface.

Of course if this kind of thing was easy to spot there wouldn’t be a need for detectives in the world.

He started mentally filing through the policies and procedures drilled into his skull “Did Jim tell you this himself or did you see something?”

They all shared an uncertain look, the silence continuing on for a few seconds before Mary spoke up again.

“We...saw something,”

“What kind of something?”

Darci shook off her discomfort first and pulled out her phone “Here,” she tapped at the screen a few times and held it out to him “We took these at Jim’s house, it’s his basement door,”

Louis took the offered device and examined the screen. Going by the fact that they claimed Jim’s mother was locking him in the basement, and that Darci said these were pictures of his basement door...even before he’d looked at the photos, Louis already had a good idea of what he would see.

Unfortunately he was right.

He shut his eyes and pulled in a deep breath, using years of practice to compartmentalize the mental image of daughter’s friend and the pictures he’d just seen “You did the right thing by coming to me,” he opened his eyes and looked back towards her “Now do you have any reason to believe that Jim is in immediate danger?”

She shook her head “No,”

“Can you describe how Jim and his mother interact?”

The girls took a second to ponder over the question “We don’t really see much of Dr. Lake,” Claire admitted “She’s at work a lot, and we don’t really hang out at his house much,”

“They always seemed...normal,” Darci said slowly “But...there was that one time we were late coming back from the movies she was acting weird,”

He leaned forward ever so slightly “Weird how?”

“It was past Jim’s curfew and he panicked and rushed home really quick, when he got inside his mom wouldn’t let us come in and see him,”

Realization dawned on Mary’s face even before she spoke up “Wait a second, doesn’t she always chase us out the door pretty early on?”

“Yeah that’s right,” Claire said, Mary’s epiphany catching “She doesn’t like us hanging out there past his curfew,”

“Plus his curfew is crazy early,” Darci added “Like four o clock or something,”

“And he doesn’t do sleepovers, either going or having,” Mary added.

Sounds like Dr. Lake didn’t like Jim staying out and didn’t like his friends staying over. Could be run of the mill controlling or something worse. Too soon to tell.

“Aside from locking him in the basement, have any of you noticed any indication that his mother might be violent with him?”

“No,”

“Have any of you confirmed with Jim that he made these marks when he was locked in the basement and that they weren’t caused by something else?“

He saw the mixture of shock, hurt, and indignation fly across their faces and held up a hand “Not that I don’t believe you, I believe you girls one hundred percent, but when going forward into an investigation like this it’s important that all evidence is corroborated and accounted for,”

None of them responded right away. Darci and Claire looking flustered while Mary blushed scarlet before looking down and away.

Thanks to his experience in interrogations Louis had a pretty good idea why the three of them looked so guilty. They’d already tried confronting him and it had gone badly. Well nothing to do about that now.

“We...asked him,” Darci said at last “He didn’t say anything at first, but we could tell by the way he reacted that it was true,”

Louis nodded at that “Ok,”

“And then….” she swallowed deeply “I don’t think he meant to, but he said that his mom hasn’t put him down there since he was seven, and then he started saying that if we told anyone he would deny it,”

By the time she finished speaking her voice was tight and small.

Louis gripped the armrests to anchor himself, the fact that their friend was backpedalling to cover his mother and that he’d allegedly been locked in the basement since before he was seven years old weren’t the worst things he’d seen in his career, didn’t even make the top ten. But it was hard knowing that it had been his daughter’s friend, a boy he’d seen and spoken with on more than a few occasions, that stung.

And seven years old….Jesus, no kid deserved that.

“Thank you for coming to me with this girls, I’m going to pass this information along and make sure an investigation is started with CPS,”

Darci nodded “Thanks dad,”

He pushed himself up straighter “Now I know the way your friend acted must have seemed very confusing,”

The trio nodded.

“I don’t want to make any assumptions about his home life, but I do know that when someone grows up in an abusive household, it really skews what they consider normal. I’ve known a lot of people that grew up with in dysfunctional families but didn’t even realize it until they were in their forties,”

He had to be really careful not to put his foot in his mouth for this next part “And the relationship between a child an abusive family member can be...complicated,” he raised a hand to rub the bridge of his nose, trying to prevent the tension headache he felt coming on “Things with them are rarely all bad all the time, most often there’s just enough good to keep the victim coming back,”

Too close to assumption territory, needed to bring this back on track.

“Regardless of what’s going on at home, Jim might try to do everything he can to protect his mother, even when he shouldn’t,”

Now for the tricky part.

He leaned forward and placed his hands on his knees “But in the meantime, you’re still going to be seeing Jim at school, right?”

The trio shared uncertain looks before Darci turned back towards him “Yeah?”

“If you can it would be good to try and apologise for trying to force him to come forward so you can keep in communication,”

The three of them were stunned, as he’d expected, but this was something it looked like they’d have to learn sooner rather than later.

Darci was particularly taken aback “But we didn’t….”

Louis crossed his arms, raised an eyebrow, and gave her a look that he’d honed to perfection over fourteen years of parenting.

She trailed off, all of them fidgeting uncomfortably.

“I guess we were kind of...pushy,” Claire said while nervously tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

“It’s ok, you didn’t know any better,” he let out a deep breath “Once I make the call and get the ball rolling things are going to get pretty hectic for him,”

He slowly turned his head looking at each of them in turn “Going forward keeping the lines of communication open is important, especially if things start going south for him at home. The best way to help is to just continue being his friends and to stop trying to get him to turn on his mother,”

“So wait…” Mary sounded confused “You want us to just ignore the fact his mom locks him in the basement and pretend like everything’s normal?”

“Not….quite,” Louis sat back with a grimace “For whatever reason your friend clearly isn’t ready to come forward with this, so the best thing to do is be supportive in any other way you can,”

“Now,” he netted his hands together “You girls should not ignore any signs that further abuse is taking place, whether it’s something you see or something Jim says. But if he’s made it clear that he’s willing to outright lie, pushing him would do more harm than good. So if you ever do suspect anything else is happening, don’t confront him, but try and document it in any way you can and bring it to me,”

Louis let out a deep breath, knowing the worst part of this converstaion was about to come “In child abuse investigations not a lot happens right away. It often involves observing behavior patterns over a long period of time,” he steeled himself before he said the part he knew was going to break their hearts “And it’s more common than anyone would like to admit that not much comes of them,”

His chest tightened looking at their stricken faces, but he pushed forward.

“Which is why it’s so crucial to try and maintain your relationship with him, even if whatever investigation we start now doesn’t pan out to anything, if you stay on friendly terms, then you can still help him months, maybe even years down the line, do you understand all that?”

Darci’s looked crushed, expression barely concealing the horror he knew she must be feeling, and mirrored by both of her friends, but she responded all the same “Ok Dad,”

The other two girls forced themselves to reply as well.

“Got it,”

“Will do Mr. Scott,”

He looked over them carefully “So are you girls all doing ok?”

“Yep,”

“Yes,”

“Uh huh,”

“Good, and I promise I’m going to file all this first thing tomorrow,” he glanced at his watch “It’s getting late; Claire, Mary, we’re going to eat pretty soon, care to join us?”

Both girls shook their heads “No thanks,” Claire said “My mom’s expecting me back for dinner,”

“Do either of you need a ride?”

“It’s ok,” Mary added “We came here on our bikes so we can get home in plenty of time,”

“Alright, but don’t feel rushed, you two can stay here as long as you like,”

The two glanced at Darci, who gave her head a single shake.

“Actually we should really get going,” Claire stood up, pulling Mary up alongside her “Thanks again Mr. Scott,”

“Anytime girls, and I mean it,”

They turned back just long enough to wave and headed out the door, leaving just the two Scotts inside.

“You sure you’re doing ok pumpkin?”

“Dad I’m fine,” she forced the words out through one of the fakest smiled he’d ever seen “I’m just glad that Jim is going to get some help,”

“Well just remember, I’m always available whenever you aren’t fine. Even if you do something stupid like breaking and entering, I promise I’ll be more supportive than mad,”

She rolled her eyes “Da-ad! Just because you broke into the old vespa factory when you were in high school doesn’t mean everyone does!”

He chuckled “I know, but humor your old man, and go set the table while you’re at it, I’m getting hungry,”

Darci let out an impressively loud groan before getting up and obediently heading to the kitchen.

Louis watched her go, smile dropping off his face as she vanished from sight.

Part of him wanted to leap on what was clearly Darci pretending to be better than she felt, but he stopped himself. He had made it clear that he was available, now it was on her to reach out when she was ready.

He’d done his best to prepare her and her friends for some of the hard realities of this situation, but there were some things he hoped they never had to learn.

Louis had seen more than a few domestic abuse cases cross his desk. And on two occasions he had seen with his own two eyes just how ugly the endings to these cases could be.

He hoped to god this wasn’t going to turn into number three.

#tales of arcadia #Trollhunters #fanfic #A Secret's Worth #walter strickler #otto scaarbach #toby domzalski #detective scott #darci scott #claire nuñez #mary wang #rmvwrites

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douxie-casperan · 4 years

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I’ve been thinking a lot about timings, specifically Douxie in Arcadia in regards to just the Trollhunter’s series and generally what he was up to at the time. He was clearly in the area before we saw him in Season 3 though his day to day was shown more by comparison in 3Below and thus thanks to an initial ramble in the tags I decided to go ahead and figure things out that make most logical sense to me and could well be completely wrong. As you do.

Prior to the start of Trollhunters it is very unlikely there would have been too many problems as all factions were largely keeping to themselves and under the radar of the others. However after Kanjigar fell, Bular was a LOT more active in Arcadia because of hunting down Jim and in turn because of trying to stop the Killahead project Jim was most active within town it's self at weird hours. As a result this greatly increases the run in risk with Douxie’s own night time wanderings however regular they were for dealing with non-troll related beings that are likely being attracted by the native magic (Ley-line) of the place. The changelings could clear up the messes a certain troll left behind, sure, but somebody who knows enough about trolls would start putting two and two together that the dynamic had shifted somehow and not in a particularly good way.

The easiest way to solve this problem would Douxie happening to be out of the area at the time and quite handily in his first appearance Claire mentions a tidbit that could easily do just that: Ash Dispersal Pattern was the opening act for at least one Papa Skull concert (Highly likely the one she went to with Steve) and it'd make sense to be fronting for more than one and it would keep him safely out the area for a while. After Bular is killed, it is much easier to again hand wave Team Trollhunter and Douxie/the hedge-witches simply not running into one another when something was happening on the Surface given the locations various things tended to happen with a lot less environmental destruction compared to recent times.

In the first episode of Season 3 we see the kids have been placing warded signs under the guise of supporting Ophelia's campaign to help ward off Gumm-Gumms and that’s a giant neon sign something is there you're trying to protect for anybody with any magical knowledge. It's unknown how long they have been doing this though given Claire and Jim are planting them in the neighbourhood it's likely they started branching out after experimenting with the original hiding spot for Trollmarket (If with a few hiccups given one troll managed to stumble over them anyway) pretty recently which gives ample time for the source to be spotted before the sudden increase.

It stands to reason that around this period is when Douxie would have likely picked up there was now a human teenager running around as the current Trollhunter which I have no doubt he did side eye a bit as uh what and that Trollmarket had an emergency exodus to the Surface even if not knowing the reasoning behind either. Word will be passed on but it's still troll politics at the end of the day, nothing to do with us but worth keeping tabs on.

A few days maximum prior too will be also when a new unknown witch in Arcadia was noticed (Something I touched on here) whom he could just have easily innocently passed in the street. With Zoe's help they would be able to slowly pin down a bit more information (Teenager, likely in High School so gotta check 'em all) until through using Battle of the Bands as a ruse find out that person is Claire. Jim’s attempts at dissuading her joining in (The so-called ”after school activities”) would have confirmed any suspicion that she was also part of Team Trollhunter too which would stand out given they tended to be more solitary in that job role. While he did use very archaic terms (To us), he was being exceedingly respectful of another unknown magic user as appearance is no judge for true age as he proves himself.

Douxie is not seen again until he's on waiter duty at Mr. Benoit's and it's likely thanks to Darci's presence they don't fudge any mention of Trollhunting duties and not give him any tip offs/confirmation that Toby is also involved. Claire's initial outburst would have been very ?? but if you've been in customer service long enough it's a bit on the worrying side sure but not an immediate red flag. That said given the complete change in demeanour afterwards with very wrong vibes being given off to boot that would have been a whole nother kettle of fish easily leading to stealth texted Zoe while back inside say a bit of a situation was developing with the new witch and how best to handle it. I actually had a rough mention of this scenario here.

The next time he would see them, in passing or otherwise, whatever the situation was has been resolved thanks to the help of Strickler meaning whatever plans they had to research more or help would have been rendered unneeded which is good or bad depending on how you look at it. This would also mean the other magic users of Arcadia remained completely in the dark that both Morgana is actively in play and that she was right there in front of Douxie without him even realising it.

Author note: Due to the weirdness of the in the UK aired version, I cannot accurately speculate on Douxie seeing 100% possessed Claire as there are two jump cuts. The first during the bathroom scene just after Morgana leaves the mirror then where it then suddenly jumps to showing a few seconds of "I feel like a whole new girl" then a second jump to everybody walking home. I think there was a "Silence, peasant" in there from gif sets I've seen but aside from that I genuinely have no idea! Tried to do my best with what I know for certain.

Then you get the Eternal Night and ho boy this is precisely why I’m writing about it in a one shot and have previously had a mention of the situation here as well. Given Douxie’s outburst at the start of Wizards it stands to reason that Merlin never contacted him and this poor guy in turn had absolutely no idea that he’d awoken nor was in Arcadia. This meant that he (And very likely Hex-Tech too) were completely caught out when it hit which would match up with his being completely without the bracelet leaving him to defend Mary and Darci with a freaking flying kick and belting a Gumm-Gumm with his guitar. Honestly it does show he's not defenceless without it but damn what an entrance. Plus the little slip up with calling the attacker twits, that wouldn’t have registered with the girls but had Claire or Toby still been there? Oh that’d have been very interesting as that is not a term you know without knowing outting him on the spot very much like how it did for us as viewers. Alas they were elsewhere, his secret remains intact.

It’s very possible during this entire mess he might have seen Morgana too, distantly perhaps but very there given her colour of magic and the golds are very distinctive, leading to one very awful blast from the past but right now your focus has to be on getting these kids and any other stragglers to safety because that is where you can help right now and not on the field. Head down, keep going and freak out about it later. Oh and whenever get a spare minute text Zoe to check both she and any of the Coven in the area currently are holding up okay and if they need backup.

At the very least none of them would have to pretend they don't know what trolls are anymore, handy given at least two plus the two changelings who stayed behind though the same hat syndrome between Strickler and Douxie would be an absolute goldmine about now if they hadn't manage to have a run in prior. I am a simple person, I find the concept hilarious.

Finally there is one other little issue needs resolving. After the arrival in flying Camelot, Douxie much like the others appears far more worried about seeing Jim inside a crystal and not about the fact he's no longer human. Steve? There’s every possibility he found out along with Eli at some point from Toby but in the wizard's case, he would never have been in that friend (Or even kinda) circle to get that bit of information nor does Merlin pull him aside to mention it either. That leads me to suspect he may have briefly glimpsed Jim during the battle and put two and two together much like Aja did that they are the same person. It’s highly unlikely he knew of the Eclipse armour existence given how secretive Merlin tends to be (Plus he was 19 at the time not to mention a bit of a disaster but we love him anyway) however there would be absolutely no mistakening that it is the Trollhunter in a new coat... and new bluer form. Follow that train of thought enough and it leads to the fact there is only one person alive that could have pulled that one off: The very same one who created the amulet in the first place.

Oops.

#History in the making - Headcanons #They won't remember me #Team Trollhunter #Master Merlin #Tales of Arcadia #Trollhunters #ToA #Wizards #ToAWizards #[In which once again the Mun will not shut up]

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thotsforvillainrights · 4 years

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~Pivitol~

[As Promised, here is the first chapter of the Overhaul Fanfic I was supposed to be working on once a week. I hope I can do a good enough job. I haven’t written a fanfic since my Wattpad days. I still get notifications from my Ticci Toby x Clockwork book XD]

Summary: The move to the city has been hectic so far. You’re new here and feeling very much alone, but you aren’t scared! People around here seem to be fairly nice to you, yet there were still mysterious people lurking here and there. So what do you think happens when you go get laundry done a block away? It can either be good or bad, but it will never be boring!

Chapter: 1

Warnings: None

“Thank you!” You cheerfully waved at the moving men when they left the last of your furniture in the living room. They were off to the next objective and you were free to unpack and unwind to enjoy your new city life. The move has been hectic you agree, but the overwhelming feeling of starting life anew was welcoming and overtly optimistic. You smiled to yourself as you sat on the plushy carpet of the living room and sifted through a box labelled ‘wall art’. Sure you were jumping ahead by trying to decorate before unpacking everything, but you just couldn’t wait to make the new apartment feel homier. Suddenly you heard a soft knocking at the door. You opened it and looked down to see a VERY short elderly woman holding a small present while a small dog was leashed next to her side. “Good evening dear. I’m the landlord at this establishment and I just wanted to take the time to give you the old welcome chat that I’ve given to all of my tenants since I started in this business. My name is Mrs. Yumine. You may call me Ms. Yumi for short. This here is my furry baby Fitch.” She said as she pointed at the cute dog next to her. “Here, these are for you dear.” She reached up and handed you the box with her short arms. You smiled and gently took the box, opening it to reveal fresh baked cookies. “Thank you so much Ms. Yumi! Also, thank you for allowing me to take up residence at this apartment complex. I have the feeling that I’m going to like living here!” You said cheerfully. The elderly woman smiled widely, her wrinkles pulling to show the cheerfulness of her face over time. “My dear if you need anything then please come see me on the first floor in apartment #6. If you can’t see me for whatever reason then please call me at either number I’ve written on the bottom of that box. Have a good evening!” You nodded and went to put the box away once the landlord had left to finish walking her pup. Eventually all your hard work paid off and you were almost finished unpacking/moving things around. You had all of the essentials unpacked save for a few items amongst the unnecessary. The only issue now was:

1.) What are you going to have for dinner

2.) What are you going to wear to bed? (unless you sleep in the nude, to which this isn’t a problem)

You sighed and looked over at the stack of dirty clothes you didn’t wash before moving here. Unfortunately you looked around and realized the apartment had no washer or dryer hookup. After some quick searching on your phone However, you were able to locate a laundromat just a block away from the apartment. “Score!” You quickly got up from your lounging spot on the couch and gathered the clothes into a basket. You made space for detergent and grabbed the keys to lock the apartment behind yourself. Walking just down the block, you managed to make it to the laundromat in just fine condition. With this section of the city being as large as it was, the crime here was moderate rather than slim. Yet you still moved here due to job opportunity. You smiled to yourself at the near empty laundromat. It was becoming evening time very soon, and eventually it would shift into night by the time you finished washing and drying your clothes. The crowd here was barren due to the time of day. It was just you, a busy mother of 2 folding her laundry by a table, and an old man snoozing in the chairs by the large window. You began to load clothing into the washer when suddenly you heard the ding of the door opening. You looked up and saw 3 rather handsome men standing empty handed as they entered. One on the right had odd silver hair in the shape of arrows that framed his handsome face ever so delicately. His eyes thin and focused, his jawline carved by God himself. Although he was dressed in a simple white hoodie, he could’ve easily passed as a model. The man on the left had a more refined look to him. His hair was a short blonde combed neatly upon his head. His glasses adorned his rather slender face perfectly. He was dressed semi casual with a tie and everything. He was the type of man you’d see in a bank somewhere. Finally your attention turned to the man in the middle. His hair was a cropped, darkened chestnut/auburn color. Three golden piercings attached to one of his ears, and a simple black medical mask covered the lower half of his face. His outfit was semi casual while formal at the same time. He wore a clack suit jacket with a dark grey button up underneath, unbuttoned at the top just a bit. There was no tie, and the slacks fit his lower form perfectly, showing off the very slightly thickened thighs.

Perhaps the most entrancing thing about his appearance was his piercing golden eyes and his long lower eyelashes.

Their eyes began scanning the scene, and when the man in the middle locked eyes with you then you quickly turned your attention to the laundry in front of you. His stare was burning into you, and you felt as if you were being watched since he looked at you. You nervously shifted eyes to the busy mother and noticed how she discreetly pushed her children behind her back. She then quickly proceeded to fold all of her laundry and rush out the door past the men. By now the elderly man had woken up from the sound of his washing machine beeping to signal his clothes were complete. He noticed the 3 men by the door and quickly gathered his wet clothes, tossing them into the nearest dryer, paying the change, and moving to sit on the other end of the laundromat. Apparently these men carried an aura to them that you just couldn’t put your hands on. Still, you were here to do your laundry, so you decided not to focus too hard on them...no matter how handsome and shady they may have seemed. You settled your clothing into the washing machine and inserted the change. Then you went to sit at the window where the old man originally sat. You glanced at him from the other end of the laundromat and his eyes held a certain shock or fear. Perhaps it was remorse, or maybe a warning. It was as if he was mentally trying to tell you to leave, or to sit over by him instead of being near the men. You ignored the ominous message and pulled your phone out to scroll through the notifications. You couldn’t help but to overhear some of the conversation they began to engage in.

“I shouldn’t have to be in such a filthy area such as this. How does this pertain to the deal in any way, Kurono?” The golden eyed man asked the arrow hair. “I don’t know, but Hojo spoke of the rival gang being not too far from here. This is a good spot because it’s not expected. Just in case negotiations break down and-”

“Shhh...I think we’re being monitored.” The glasses guy spoke to Kurono. The 3 men looked over their shoulder at you but you kept your eyes to the screen. “C’mon Nemouto, she/he/they aren’t even paying attention to us. Anyway, the deal shouldn’t take too long Overhaul.” Kurono then spoke to the golden eyed man...Overhaul. Suddenly his phone rang. He answered it, mumbling something lowly and then hung up. “Boss you stay here. Me and Nemouto are going to handle the exchange.” Then Kurono and Nemouto left the laundromat, leaving Overhaul to stand there rather awkwardly (yet still calm at the same time). After a while, you began to feel that feeling of being watched carrying on far too long. You peeked up and saw him standing closer, staring down at you intently. “Uh...hello?” You chuckled nervously. You were met with intense silence for a moment. As soon as you were about to look at your phone again, you heard him utter a small ‘hello’. You offered him a seat next to you but he hesitated at first. Ultimately he decided to have a seat, leaving an empty chair between you two for space you presumed. He also hadn’t sat until he took out a wipe and cleaned the empty seat. Then he sat down. “Pardon my curiosity for a moment, but you seem like a new face around here..” He started small talk with you. “Oh yeah, I just moved here actually! I heard there were good job opportunities here that didn’t really heavily center on the usage of quirks. Job hunting seems harder these days when you’re qurikless.” His eyebrow raised at your words. You successfully peaked his interests. “Oh, quirkless? How rare in this society. What is your name if you don’t mind me asking.”

“It’s Y/N...Y/N L/N. What about you?” You reached out to shake his hand. He stared at your hand and looked back up at you. “You may call me Overhaul. Oh, I don’t shake hands. Too much risk involved with bacteria and such.” He said shortly. “Ah, sorry. I guess I should’ve assumed that since you’re wearing those gloves and all.” Suddenly the washer went off to signal your clothing completing it’s cycle. You excused yourself and went to load the clothes into the dryer. The issue arose when you dropped a quarter and it rolled under the machines. “Oh no! Aw man!” You sighed in defeat. You were mentally preparing for your walk back to the apartment to retrieve a quarter when you heard a clinking sound and the dryer starting up. You looked up and saw Overhaul standing there. “Thank you so much! Ugh, I’m such an idiot for bringing exact change with me. I should’ve been prepared.” You bullied yourself a bit. “it’s alright. There’s nothing wrong with being precise most of the time. Your problem just now wasn’t that you brought exact change, but the fact that you clumsily dropped it.” You laughed at his seriousness and he tilted his head. “Was something I said funny?”

“No, it’s just that you seem like the type of person to lead a group of people less serious than you are.”

“You have no idea...” He sighed and you giggled at him. Before you knew it, the men returned to retrieve him and your clothes were down drying. “Goodbye Y/N. I do hope there’s a chance we can meet again soon enough.” He bid you farewell as you folded your dry clothing. For some reason, he left your heart afloat and curiosity coupled with the need to chat with him some more had overtaken you.

“Overhaul...”

»—————————–———————————————————–✄

TIp Jar: https://cash.app/$YuTakeyama

#pivitol #kai chisaki #chisaki kai #overhaul #my hero academia overhaul #bnha overhaul #mha overhaul #bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #overhaul x reader #fanfic #pivotal

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andersunmenschlich · 4 years

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Episode 18: The Man Upstairs

All right—let’s see how long this one takes me. Listening, writing, listening, writing....

[August 8, 2020: begin!]

This statement was given in December 2008 by someone named Kristoff Rudenko, and has to do with (as the episode title might suggest) a man who lived in the apartment above the one our statement-giver moved into sometime in 2002, later in the year. Apparently the place was called Welbeck House.

I have some experience with people living above me. The apartments I choose as a photosensitive tend to have people upstairs of them. What can I say? Basements are nice when light hates you.

Kristoff saw the man for the first time the day he moved in.

According to our statement-giver, the man was leaning out of his window, smoking... while wearing a hooded jacket pulled up so tight it obscured most of his face. Now, I don’t smoke, but that seems like a rather odd way of doing it to me. Surely it can’t be that convenient to stick something into your mouth while you’ve got your face all wrapped up? At least I’ve never seen anyone doing it that way. Even in quite cold weather people seem to prefer to leave their faces mostly exposed while smoking.

The weather on this particular day, Kristoff says, was gray and overcast with the possibility of rain later. Hmm. Is this the type of weather in which one would wear a coat while still technically indoors? This is a genuine question: I’m a cold person in many ways, and often wear jackets when others wouldn’t.

Well, perhaps it is that cold, or perhaps the man upstairs also possesses an unnaturally low body temperature.

He certainly possesses an unusual odor. Our statement-giver describes it as “halfway between the smell of a pavement after rain on a hot day and chicken that’s starting to turn,” which is difficult for me to imagine.

The man, leaning out his upstairs window, watches Kristoff move in for a while. Then, between one trip and another, he vanishes. Presumably he finished whatever the heck it was that he was smoking. One wonders: did the smell come from him, or from his unhealthy little treat? Our statement-giver doesn’t tell us what it was the man was smoking, forcing us to make do with the vague conclusion that it must have been something common for the time and location.

Wandsworth near London, later in the year 2002... a cigarette?

It could, of course, have been a cigar, a pipe, a marijuana roll-up, a hookah, or almost anything else, since we’re not told—but I assign higher probability to a cigarette than to any other possibility.

...Ha. Why, yes: I do have a certain fondness for precise and detailed information. However could you tell.

Speaking of precise and detailed information, Kristoff admits he had no idea whether the man upstairs was a man, he just decided to assume—which is an admission I like, because frankly I think admitting you’re making an assumption is a step up from making the assumption and apparently never even noticing that it is an assumption, and might be incorrect.

Kristoff also gives us more information about his own internal workings by letting us know that, despite not knowing why, he was “slightly spooked” by the encounter. Something in this other tenant’s manner, he says, shook him.

Well, being stared at by someone for the better part of half an hour might be a bit unsettling, don’t you think? Smell or no smell.

The man upstairs is apparently reclusive and stays quietly in his own place most of the time, with only his smell wandering around bothering people. Kristoff has another go at describing it and comes up with “rotten and earthy,” but also notes that it stays out of his place—which I think is interesting, don’t you? In my experience living downstairs from people, scents come right on down, floors and ceilings no obstacle to their passage.

Despite this, Kristoff gets in the habit of burning scented candles. Of course, all candles have a scent. I have a habit of using candles and lamps for lighting, and I’m familiar with the various odors—but specially scented candles are, I think, nice when you’re in the mood for them.

Returning to Kristoff Rudenko: Things were pretty all right for the first two years.

In 2004, however, the banging started.

It’s the day before our statement-giver’s 37th birthday, and he’s clearly planning one of the many sorts of party that I don’t enjoy, since he’s unpacking a whole crate of beer when the noise begins.

Ten minutes of banging, which seems to start on one of the walls in the apartment above, but then moves to the floor, and is vigorous enough to make our story-teller’s light sway with the force of it. This hammering carries on (presumably moving the whole time) for nearly a full hour. Kristoff, despite being the social, party-throwing type, apparently has enough normalcy in him that he does not want to interact with the tenant in the flat above him, and so he simply puts up with the noise until it stops.

This reminds me, for no particular reason, of the time Walmart was selling coconuts for fifty cents.

I bought one. I brought it home. And then I spent far too long trying to get the confounded thing open. Really I should have given up the instant I tasted the milk after holing and draining it—that liquid did not taste right—but I’ve never liked coconut milk and so I thought perhaps that was the problem.

When, after what felt like a small eternity of increasingly vigorous abuse, the coconut finally cracked open, I was delighted. The people upstairs from me were probably also pleased, though I really couldn’t say for certain.

In any case, the coconut was exactly what I should have expected for 50¢.

Kristoff Rudenko has his party, and manages to annoy the family across the hall so much that they actually come and ask him to turn his music down. He, meanwhile, is pleased that the man upstairs is apparently back to being a thoughtful neighbor. I wonder how many people are actually aware of their own hypocrisy? “Boy, I’m sure glad that one neighbor isn’t annoying me! This way I can focus on annoying my other neighbors. Whew. Big relief.”

The man upstairs is quiet for another two weeks—then, apparently, it’s hammer time again. Walls first, then floor, and after about an hour, silence again.

Every two weeks.

Must say, that would aggravate me, too... and I’ve been putting up with random banging and unannounced water shut-offs since I moved into this new place at the very end of May. Sharing space with other living things? Not, in my experience, an excellent idea.

Furthermore, buying an apartment in Welbeck House is essentially the same as buying a very small house built right up against your neighbors’ houses, so....

No landlord. No housing association, even.

Kristoff Rudenko carries on not talking to his upstairs neighbor about this regular percussive behavior, and simply stews for about six months, at which point the mail service accidentally delivers a package meant for his neighbor to him instead. It’s not a box package, mind you. It’s one of those shipping envelopes for smaller packages, and is apparently simply stuffed with padding (not a bad idea when sending anything even slightly breakable through the mail).

Finally, Kristoff goes upstairs and knocks on the door of the flat above his own, taking along the package addressed to that flat—a package meant for someone named Mr. Toby Carlisle. It’s an excuse, you see. Now he’s not just there to complain, he’s making a delivery and incidentally mentioning that Mr. Carlisle’s banging and thumping is bothering him.

It’s interesting, isn’t it, how difficult people sometimes find it to complain about perfectly complainable things? And yet at other times they’ll throw a completely unwarranted tantrum over something as silly as a store being out of pennies.

Truly, humans are fascinating.

[August 9, 2020: continuing]

Mr. Toby Carlisle seems to have had an effect on the place where he lives. The wooden door looks older and more beat up than any of the other apartment doors in Welbeck House (which, according to Kristoff Rudenko, all seem to have been replaced fairly recently), and the carpet directly in front of the door is a bit stained, like something’s leaked out from Mr. Carlisle’s flat. Also, there’s no apartment number, no nameplate, nothing to identify the place or show who lives there.

I suppose that might explain the misdelivery. Bit difficult to get packages to a place with no address or name on it, isn’t it?

Kristoff knocks on the door.

No one answers.

He knocks again.

This time he can hear someone coming towards the door—but the possibly carpet-muffled footsteps stop on the other side of the door and then there’s just nothing for a while. Total silence. Our statement-giver is about to knock again when, unexpectedly, the door opens.

It doesn’t open much. Just a crack. But it’s enough for Kristoff to A) see that there don’t seem to be any lights on in the place, B) get hit by a whole lot of horrible smell, and C) tell that there’s someone standing there.

“What do you want?” apparently-Toby-Carlisle asks.

Kristoff Rudenko does the package thing. You know: “Uh, I got a package for—are you—?” and so on.

Silence again. Then, suddenly, a thin and pale hand with long and dirty yellow fingernails and a dark red mark that might be an injury of some kind on the back of it shoots out and snatches the package. The door slams.

Well, it’s not a terribly polite way of receiving packages, is it?

Adding lack of proper cleanliness to the other charges, this Toby Carlisle left a disgusting smear of some sort of thick, off-white liquid on Kristoff Rudenko’s jacket sleeve when he so rudely grabbed the package from him, and the stuff smells terrible. In fact our statement-giver says he had to throw the jacket away because the unbearable smell would not come out.

Really now. Is it so difficult to maintain a level of hygiene such that you don’t leave rotting goop on everything you touch?

Kristoff Rudenko, it seems, decided not to knock on the door again and broach the subject of the fortnightly banging. Frankly I can understand his desire to go away and not come back, but it seems to me that he’s unlikely to get a better opportunity.

“Yes, one more thing,” he could say. “That hammering you do every two weeks; what on earth are you doing? And is there no way to do it a little more quietly?”

He’s right there at the door, after all. It’s a very convenient location.

Instead, Kristoff goes away and doesn’t try again. “That was it for a long time,” he says. “The man upstairs was named Toby and he was a disgusting shut-in who smelled rancid and occasionally made hammering noises. It wasn’t ideal, but it was something I could understand and live with. Two years passed like this, and I had almost forgotten about him, to be honest. He had become just another part of my life, and could be lived around.”

I find that remarkable. How does one forget about continual eruptions of horrible noise? Even “almost”? It seems like the kind of thing which would drive me absolutely bonkers.

And I speak from current as well as past experience, because the “temporary maintenance issue” that’s still, after more than two months, waking me up in the middle of the day and shutting my water off at inconvenient moments... this isn’t a thing I’m likely to forget about, nor even almost forget about.

It’s very annoying.

But Kristoff Rudenko, it would seem, has managed this apparently impossible thing, and so he didn’t really think about Toby Carlisle until late 2007.

[August 13, 2020: back from work]

At this point, our statement-giver has decided to move to Sheffield to be closer to his ailing mother, and so he’s trying to sell his place. This is difficult, because eventually every prospective buyer asks the looming question: “What’s that smell?” The third set of viewers even points out a stain on the living room ceiling, which they assume is the result of a leaky pipe.

I’m pretty sure it’s not a leaky pipe.

Kristoff tries to get hold of a plumber, but for some reason they can’t get to him before next week. So he has to wait, and in the meantime the smell gets worse and the stain gets... stainier.

“As it grew, it started to turn a dark yellow in color, and glistened ever so slightly when the light hit it.”

Doesn’t sound much like anything you’d expect to come out of domestic piping. I’m reminded of blood plasma, or melted fat—both of which I’d expect to smell rather worse than simply “rotten and earthy,” though I suppose the second one might smell a bit like “chicken that’s starting to turn.” Hmm.

In any case, Toby Carlisle isn’t answering his door anymore.

When the male plumber turns up, he touches the ceiling and it just... collapses. Kristoff Rudenko describes it as “buckling and tearing like wet cardboard.”

Disgusting gunk comes out of it, too. Sickly yellow fluid with viscous white lumps, you say? No, that doesn’t sound like anything I’d expect to find in a ceiling (nor in a floor, come to that).

Kristoff Rudenko throws up.

The plumber, presumably due to lots of experience with gross things, only looks like he’s about to throw up, and excuses himself.

[August 15, 2020: continuing]

Once he finishes vomiting, Kristoff Rudenko is furious with the man upstairs. Understandably. What sort of horrible neighbor does a thing like that to someone else’s ceiling? Come to that, what kind of person would do something so repulsive to their own floor? Whatever type of individual this is, they’re clearly one in need of punishment.

You see, it’s not a good idea to let people do things which inconvenience others too greatly. Even if they’re not harming you at the moment, they may in future—or others, following their example, may. Deviation from standard social behavior is only acceptable to a point.

Storming upstairs to pound on your neighbor’s door, you may say, seems like a bit of a deviation from standard social behavior.

This is true.

When punishing someone for deviant behavior, it’s acceptable to deviate a bit yourself. This is part of what makes it so satisfying, I think: when punishing someone else for hurting you, you’re allowed to hurt them. Allowed, you understand? So long as you don’t seem to harm the person in question more than those around believe they harmed you, you have a free pass.

Since this Toby Carlisle has actually damaged a place in which multiple people live, Kristoff Rudenko is free to tell him off considerably. Maybe even hit him, if he seems belligerent or particularly unrepentant.

It’s a very good situation for Kristoff.

When he begins to bang on the door and shout for the man upstairs to come out or he’ll call the police to fetch him out, the door swings open slightly.

It isn’t locked. I wonder how long it hasn’t been locked? I wonder how heavy the door is, that normal knocking wouldn’t push it open (and pounding only moves it slightly). Maybe the carpet’s especially thick, because Kristoff Rudenko has trouble opening it. He manages to get it open enough to allow passage, but for some reason can’t open it all the way.

He fumbles for a light switch, and finds one. There’s something on the wall beside the switch, though: something soft and wet.

The light comes on.

Someone’s been redecorating. Now, personally, I don’t understand the urge. I only started putting things on my walls after a visitor commented on their utter blankness—something about how it didn’t look like a human lived there.

I am, of course, human. Human, human, human. Just look at my neck!

That said, it seemed to me that it might be a good idea to decorate a bit more, and so I put up a few reproductions of classic paintings.

...I was later informed that this, too, was somehow suspicious. Really, I don’t know what anyone expects from a normal apartment. Mine has floors. It has walls. It has ceilings. I’ve put towels and washcloths in the bathroom and kitchen, a jacket in the closet by the door, clothing in the closet in the bedroom; I’ve got a toothbrush, toothpaste, a sleeping bag, and even some food in the fridge—and perhaps most importantly, I have not plastered any of the surfaces in my apartment with meat, either raw or cooked. What could be more normal?

At the very least, I think it’s fair to say that Toby Carlisle’s apartment is considerably more abnormal than mine.

“The light that came on was weak and tinged with red, but it was enough to see by. I looked around, and saw that every surface, the walls, the floor, the tables, everything except the curtained windows, was covered in meat.

“Steaks, chunks of chicken, even a whole leg of what I assume was once lamb, had been nailed everywhere. There were layers of it, the newest additions simply stuck on top of the old, and a putrid yellow-white rot could be seen where the oldest pieces had long since turned to liquid. Flies buzzed thick in the air, and maggots carpeted the place. Looking up, I saw the light too, had been smeared with meat, causing the place to be bathed in that dull red light.”

Now, I have no objection to red light, particularly when it’s not especially bright. In fact I prefer it. But this method of obtaining it doesn’t seem sanitary.

Our statement-giver doesn’t tell us whether the meat in question is cooked or uncooked. Perhaps he can’t tell. Once piece of it, however, is probably uncooked: the body of Toby Carlisle, lying in the hallway. The face is no longer hidden, and apparently it’s so riddled with holes that Kristoff can’t tell where the eyes used to be.

This seems unlikely, since eyes tend to be in roughly the same place on every human body, and usually they’re fairly symmetrical. So are there a lot of “puckered, septic lesions and holes” in the same places on the right and left of Toby’s face above the nose?

If so... well, I do appreciate symmetry.

Moving apparently on instinct, Kristoff Rudenko calls the police.

And then, with the phone in his hand, his eyes fall on the thing in the kitchen. Toby Carlisle’s been doing a craft project!

“There, in the center of the floor, was a pile of discarded meat and bone, stacked almost as high as a person. It seemed less decayed than the rest of it, though that foul yellow fluid oozed from it, and ... when I looked at that heaped pile of meat, it moved. I don’t know how—I don’t know quite how to explain it, other than to tell you that it opened its eyes. It opened all its eyes.”

Now, that’s interesting.

A thing built out of meat and bone from... where? The supermarket, probably, given the location. So—dead things from which the life’s long since departed. But there’s life in it, isn’t there? And what, I wonder, has happened to the life of Toby Carlisle?

Personally, if I were going to give a craft project life, I wouldn’t give it my own.

Do you think Toby Carlisle meant to sacrifice himself to this? Or was it an accident? And where did the other eyes come from? I don’t know how things are in your supermarkets, but where I shop most meat doesn’t come with eyes. Surely the only available eyes would be the ones Toby Carlisle once had? Also, what is it with The Magnus Archives and eyes? I’m certain I’m not imagining it now: there are eyes everywhere in this show.

“The next thing I remember,” our statement-giver says, “is the police’s arrival, and a lot of questions from officers trying to hide the fact that they had just finished vomiting. The pile of meat was gone, though the bits that had been nailed to the walls and floors remained.”

So... Frankenstein’s monster left.

But let’s pause and have a think about this. In late 2002, Toby Carlisle already smelled funny—yet he was quiet and the smell wasn’t overly intrusive: just a few whiffs here and there. In July 2004, he starts banging.

I think we can assume this is when the carnal redecoration began. Walls first, then floors, yes? Kristoff Rudenko never mentions the ceiling of Toby’s apartment aside from a note regarding a light fixture. Is rotting flesh nailed there too? Did our crazed meat-painter smear the ceiling with blood and fat? Or did he leave the ceiling itself untouched? These are the kinds of details I’d like to know, and Kristoff Rudenko is not being particularly helpful!

Six months of an apartment papered and carpeted in beef and chicken and lamb and so on and then, in early 2005, Toby Carlisle receives a package.

...A “thick and soft” envelope.

Now, you can have meat shipped to you through the mail, but that is not the right way to do it. There are regulations for the shipping of meat in, I think, every country on Earth. You can’t simply pack meat into an envelope and send it off, that’s a biological hazard!

And yet it’s only in late 2007, after three years of rotting meat, that Kristoff Rudenko says “the smell had begun to pervade my whole flat.”

I would have expected the odor to become a problem long before that! Perhaps our statement-giver has an unusually poor nose... or maybe Welbeck House was built to a truly enviable standard of insulation.

In any case, a hazmat team has to be called in to clean the place up.

Kristoff Rudenko does not mention how the police responded to the dead body. He says nothing about an investigation into either murder or suicide. Does this mean Carlisle’s monster took his old body with it? Does it mean that the police went with either “suicide” or “natural causes” as an explanation for death? Or does it mean that they simply didn’t do anything with it at all, officially—cleaned everything up and pretended it never happened?

Information! Why are we missing so much information? Ahh, well... I suppose these episodes would never end if everything was gone into in as much detail as I’d like. All things considered, this is fine.

Kristoff Rudenko moves in with some friends in Clapham:

“People who are very clean, and don’t mind the fact that I have recently become a vegetarian.”

As someone who has occasionally felt tempted to partake when passing roadkill, I can’t say I understand this reaction. It’s true that I like my meat closer to living than to decomposing, but that is the natural progression—for all living things, vegetables included. First they live and grow. Then they die. Then they rot. We all know this, yes? So why should seeing things at the end of that process put you off eating them at an earlier point?

Well.

Jonathan Sims says, “Looking into this one has proven a bit tricky, as police, hospital and even fire department records give wildly conflicting reports.”

So! I take this to mean that each department wrote up reports it thought worked as plausible explanations—without consulting with one another. In short: they cleaned everything up and pretended the event itself never happened. It’s the gas leak by the Mion River, handled by a bunch of people who aren’t with a single organization (like the Holy Church).

We’ve got a date for the discovery, though: October 22, 2007.

Ah, and Carlisle’s monster didn’t take the body. “The cause of death was listed as gangrene,” which doesn’t seem terribly believable to me. Who dies of gangrene these days? With antibiotics available everywhere?

But then Toby Carlisle, even aside from rituals involving bringing unnatural life to monsters of flesh and bone, wasn’t exactly usual.

Who knows? Maybe he did cut himself on something, and elected to leave the infection entirely untreated. It isn’t as though he’d have to visit the hospital for a little cut—recluse that I am, I’ve treated enough of my own injuries to know what can and can’t be handled at home. A little soap and water, hydrogen peroxide or rubbing alcohol, a tube of triple antibiotic ointment, a sterile bandage... unless you’ve actually cut your arm open and gotten something unusually nasty in the wound... and even then! gauze and a packet of sutures should take care of the worst you’re likely to get at home.

Was Toby Carlisle the type to simply let his injuries, small or large, fester? I suppose he might have been. He certainly doesn’t seem to have cared about keeping his living space clean and healthful.

Kristoff Rudenko hasn’t died yet.

And Incredibly-Competent-Assistant Sasha has turned up Toby Carlisle’s financial records, which seem to suggest that he was making money somehow, but it was all going to pay for his place—and where was he getting the meat? There are no records of purchases made in person or online.

Assistant Tim, despite asking everywhere, hasn’t been able to figure it out.

Assistant Martin is still having stomach problems, it seems.

[August 16, 2020: concluding]

And Head Archivist Jon, like me, is bothered by not knowing where the meat was coming from. Given that it obviously wasn’t coming from any of the more conventional sources, though... well, maybe some of those cold cuts came with eyeballs after all.

Still, I’d very much like to know whether any of the eyes that thing opened were (or had been) human.

#The Magnus Archives #episode 18 #commentary #late to the party

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littlegreenpinetree · 4 years

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Dinner

So, this is my gift for @blueawy who wanted some Jlaire fluff fic. Now, I wouldn’t say it’s perfect, but my friend, who helped me check for grammar mistakes, liked it, so I hope you’re going to like it as well! Also woah, it’s been years since I’ve written a proper fanfic. Anyway, here’s your gift, have fun reading and happy holidays!

UPDATE: I finally got myself to make ao3 account, so now you can read this fic also here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22175350

@toa-secret-santa

Claire isn’t very good at cooking. She isn’t terrible, she’s not the “can burn even water” type of person. No, the food she makes is edible. But she doesn’t feel very confident about that - especially since the other person who cooks is Jim.

Jim’s cooking is the best, despite him not being able to savour it anymore. He still has years of experience and knows exactly what to do to make everything perfect for any human. Claire sometimes lets herself tease him that this is the reason they are still together. Jim then raises his hand to his chest dramatically and pretends to be hurt. Now she does it after trying some bolognese he’s making. Jim wipes a nonexistent tear from his cheek.

“If this is the case, I will not stop you from achieving your dreams. I won’t be an obstacle between you and the true love of your life,” he sighs theatrically, gesturing at the pot full of sauce.

“Then so be it. This bolognese at least won’t be eating cutlery,” she teases.

“I am so not appreciated here,” Jim scoffs, turning away from her.

Claire laughs, but then hugs Jim from behind and ruffles his hair.

At first, Claire didn’t bother asking about what exactly went into his food. At the very beginning, she thought she didn’t even have to know, especially after she saw Jim sniffing a pencil, shrugging and breaking it into little pieces he threw into the cake batter. But then, after giving it some thought, she realized that it must be terrible for Jim - that to him her disinterest might mean that she doesn’t accept his troll part, which wasn’t true. So she started to sit with him even more when he was cooking, especially for himself, saw what he was adding to his meals and began asking how it tasted for him. On one evening, she made them both sit at the table and apologized for her previous behaviour. At first, Jim got nervous and tried to shrug it off, saying that it wasn’t a big deal and he didn’t mind. Then they talked longer and Claire finally got Jim to admit that it was much nicer when Claire showed that she cared. The biggest change happened when they were baking a cake together. Or two cakes, to be precise. Well, mostly Jim was baking. She was helping of course, but Jim was the one to rule in the kitchen and tell Claire what to do. The only area where Claire can rule is preparing guacamole.

And then, as Jim was wondering what to throw into his part of the cake, Claire jumped up from the chair where she was sitting and ran off, grabbing a bag full of things she bought earlier. Colourful paper clips, staples, packets of sequins and various buttons - some more classic, having one colour and two or four dots, some being fancier, decorated with patterns, material or shaped like flowers. Also glitter. Like, a small bucket of glitter.

“We can try how it all tastes like to you and then you can decide which ones you want to add. I mean, I won’t be eating this so I wasn’t sure what you’d like, but I observed what you were eating earlier and decided that these are worth a try,” she explained, feeling very stupid.

But Jim was so happy, he almost cried and he hugged her so hard she thought she wouldn’t be able to ever catch a breath again. Then they sat at the table and laid out all the stuff Claire bought and he tried them all.

“Paper clips are classic, I’ve eaten them before,” he said. “But these are cooler, this plastic, colourful layer on the outside adds something more smooth to the taste. It’s hard to explain,” he said, putting the box of clips aside. “Buttons are also cool. I might or might have not eaten a few of those spare ones you are sometimes given when you buy a new shirt,” he explained, sending Claire an apologetic look. She only smiled at him.

“It’s not like I would have ever used them anyway,” she pointed out.

“Right. That’s what I thought. Anyway, so buttons are cool, but I’ve only ever eaten classic ones. The ones that are decorated with fabric are less crunchy, sort of… Salty?” he rubbed his neck, avoiding her gaze and struggling to explain. “The shaped ones are awesome. Their taste is sweet and heavenly and I bet they look better on the cake.”

“What about sequins and glitter?” Claire asked. She was especially curious about those two.

“I don’t know, I’ve never eaten any of the shiny stuff before, so I’m gonna try it now,” Jim answered, smiling at her and shoving a spoonful of sequins into his mouth. “Oooooh, this is good! Like… Like crunchy and sort of sweet, but also sour?”

“I have no idea where sequins can have the potential to be sour,” Claire laughed, rolling her eyes.

“They have a LOT of potential, thank you very much,” Jim answered, grabbing the packet protectively. “No, but I'm serious. Thank you, Claire. It… It means a lot to me. I mean, I know it’s just me eating stupid sequins, but still.”

“It’s not stupid. You need to eat, you know.”

“I know, I know. Okay. Time for glitter.”

Glitter turned out to be “something between sugar, cinnamon and ginger” which Jim seemed very happy about. They baked their two cakes, one for humans and one for trolls. And, as Claire and Toby were later eating their normal cake, she couldn’t help but smile, seeing Jim, Blinky and AAARRRGGHH relishing their troll version. “Paper clip and glitter cake,” as Jim called it when taking it out of the oven and grinning at her.

Then it became their routine. Claire would often buy something new and Jim would try it and give her feedback. And having a half-troll boyfriend had its perks. For exampke, she didn’t have a problem when having to dispose of her old credit card.

“It is like the absolute best dessert. I have no idea what is even in there, but Claire, you should totally get rid of your cards more often,” Jim said then, after sniffing the card and taking a bite.

After a while, she learned his tastes and could usually more or less predict whether he was going to like something or not and how it could taste to him - despite never being able to taste these things herself. It’s not like she wanted to eat paper clips, but it would be helpful to know exactly what to look for when picking something new for Jim. But, both of them had some difficulties. Jim couldn’t taste human food anymore, but was the best at cooking anyway.

Even now, this bolognese. Claire’s is obviously spaghetti and tomato sauce with minced meat, but Jim’s? Boiled shoelaces (“they are softer and better warm, Claire”), sauce… Well, she guesses it does contain some tomatoes. As well as red paint, erasers and adhesive gum - the very same one she used to stick a poster to the wall two days before. They sit at the table, each one content with their own plate.

And if Claire has to be honest? She wouldn’t have it any other way.

#toasecretsanta2019 #trollhunters #trollhunters fanfiction #jim lake jr #troll!jim #claire nuñez #jlaire #tales of arcadia #fluff

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letmetellyouaboutmyfeels · 5 years

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Hi hello, new follower here. I've read all your Leverage meta and am in great need of more! But I don't know what to ask for...So, any headcanons floating around that you'd like to share?

First of all hello darling! I love your icon, it’s beautiful, and I hope that you’re having a great day. ❤️

Second of all, I don’t have anything lengthy and specific at the moment, so here is a dump of headcanons that I hold near and dear to my heart. I’m so glad you’ve liked my other meta and if there’s anything here you’d like me to further elaborate on, please let me know!

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1. Hardison definitely has this elaborate proposal planned out, and it’s perfect. It’s going to be subtle, nothing too over the top, because Eliot and Parker hate over the top. It sends them running in the other direction if you’re conventionally romantic in any way. But it is definitely well-thought out, planned down to the smallest detail, and tailored to their interests.

But the day of a bunch of shit definitely goes down, it’s related to the job of course, and Eliot and Hardison are getting on each other’s last nerve and Parker is just Not Getting It and in a burst of frustration Hardison goes on one of his little rants that are really to himself that he doesn’t expect anyone to listen to.

“And here I was going to make this all nice for y’all I had a plan and everything and it was going to be amazing I didn’t have balloons because those scare Parker, because I listen, yes I do, unlike some people around here, see if I propose to either of you now, y’all are just gonna have to wait another month, I was gonna have that takeout coming that Eliot likes so goddamn much and I had a bunch of fortune cookies stacked into the shape of a cake for Parker but oh no, noooooo, we just had to do this today...”

And he only realizes towards the end that Eliot and Parker are listening to everything because Eliot says “you were going to propose!? DAMMIT HARDISON!” and Parker’s just sitting there with this Look on her face and says, “wait, but aren’t we already married?” and it just explodes into a loving three-way argument over what exactly is going on how did Parker think they were already married what the actual hell...

It is eventually all sorted out (Hardison possibly goes to sulk in Lucille 6.0 for a bit) and there is much rejoicing.

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2. I talked about this in private but it’s my headcanon that Nate and Sophie would end up having a child at some point, probably biological because I imagine that it would be an accident that Sophie got pregnant. Having a kid is right up Sophie’s alley, seeing how well she took to mothering the OT3 and how she loves directing and guiding her acting students. And Nate loves kids. He has a hangup about them because of his son and that loss, but he loved being a father and I think he would want to be a father again. But it was a nebulous, “at some point” kind of thing, and they’re talking about adopting versus biological, and then bam, Sophie’s pregnant.

And I think that would be a really beautiful thing to explore because I think it would really affect the OT3 because Nate was a father figure to them in a lot of ways. Eliot would especially hate to admit that, but given that he openly, to Nate’s face compares Nate to Toby, the other father figure we see in Eliot’s life (and who gave Eliot back his sense of self and a passion other than his job as a hitman) and Eliot’s relationship with his father being one of argument and distance (and possibly no reconciliation, although Eliot tries--the episode cuts out before you can see for certain if Eliot’s father eventually answers the door or if Eliot leaves)... yeah, Eliot sees Nate as a father figure. Hardison has a positive mothering figure in his life, Nana, but we don’t hear anything about a father figure, and Parker--we see very clearly how her father figure failed her and it’s all framed to show how Nate is a better father figure to her and how Nate realizes in meeting Archie that he does in fact see Parker as his daughter/protege.

But Nate has a lot of hang-ups from the loss of his son and so that keeps him from showing the OT3 as much affection as he would otherwise. Eliot accepts it but doesn’t like it, Hardison doesn’t like it and doesn’t accept it, and Parker is I think too used to a lack of praise and affection to notice, it’s par for the course for her. But it means that all three have issues with him and have times where they feel used by him, no matter how much they know that Nate does care about them and is loyal to them.

Sophie being pregnant and having a kid would not only force Nate to confront his issues but would force the OT3 to confront their issues about their relationship with him. I think there would be some arguing and tears--hell I think Nate wouldn’t even tell them at first, they’d find out through Sophie--but I like to think that eventually Nate would introduce his kid to their “three big siblings.” And the OT3 and Nate would finally be open and honest about their relationship with one another and what they mean to each other.

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3. I have zero evidence to back this up but I am 1000% convinced that if the show had kept going Moreau would’ve shown up again at some point. We had that whole season four arc with their very first enemy coming back to get even, and Moreau was repeatedly pointed out in season three to be the biggest fish they’ve ever fried. He’s jailed but in a country that he once ruled, there must be some people there still loyal to him or that he could blackmail. Zero proof, but you can pry this conviction from my cold dead hands, Moreau would’ve come back at some point.

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4. Sophie and Tara definitely were friends with benefits at some point. The way they talk to each other is, if you ask me, very flirtatious. Tara owes Sophie a massive favor but it’s never specified what the favor is. The entire nature of their relationship is in fact rather ambiguous, and despite both being grifters, it’s not until The Girl’s Night Out Job that they see each other grifting and learn about each other’s methods. And Sophie would never trust anyone with her team, her family, except for the one other person she could trust 100%. Tara makes a big deal about how she’s just here because she owes Sophie and that she’s here to take a personal cut of all their jobs, but she also looks out for the team and keeps tabs on them for Sophie. That shows a lot of trust on Sophie’s part.

Ergo, I think it makes sense that they were ones friends with benefits who actually by some miracle managed to stay friends after the benefits part had ended.

Also I make everything LGBT+ because why not.

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5. If you ask me, season two was where the OT3 really realized they had deep feelings for one another.

At the end of season one, Hardison asks Parker where she’s going and she says for him to try and find her, and at the beginning of season two he remarks that he tried to find her but failed. I think that that point in their relationship we can safely say we’re at a plateau, a pause. This is the turning point. Hardison can decide that Parker is playing too hard to get and he can walk away. Parker can decide that Hardison isn’t going to be patient and be what she needs and she can walk away.

Instead, we see the both of them develop deeper feelings. We see Parker feel jealousy when Hardison is getting cozy with another woman. We see Hardison reaching out more and more to Parker in a way he seemed scared to in the first season.

Season two is where we see Eliot and Hardison really kick up the banter. It’s where we see Eliot go out of his way to protect Parker and Hardison--and it’s where in The Future Job we see Eliot make his greatest declaration of love: he offers to murder someone for Parker, no question.

We don’t learn that this is precisely a declaration of love until season three, when we learn of Eliot’s past with Moreau. It’s only then that we look back and go, “oh shit.” And Eliot probably knows that Parker and Hardison won’t realize that’s what it is, which is why he feels safe saying it. But in season three, Eliot, who we have learned never kills when he can subdue, never subdues when he can placate and avoid the fight altogether, Eliot who hates guns--Eliot admits that he did a bunch of awful, horrible stuff for Moreau. That the worst thing he ever did, the thing that haunts him, was for Moreau. And Moreau asks Eliot to kill again, confident that Eliot will carry it out.

It becomes clear, then, that if Eliot who hates murdering did all those horrible things for Moreau, and he was willing to do a horrible thing, willing to murder, for Parker when that fake psychic hurt her...

The math is simple.

Season three we see the OT3 as a cohesive unit, one in which relationships are deepening. But season two is where we go from the first blush of “oh I like this person” to “oh shit I’m in love with this person.”

It clearly terrifies Parker. It also terrifies Eliot, although he’s better at hiding it underneath layers of crankiness and bluster. Only Hardison doesn’t shrink from it. And honestly I think Tara’s presence helped them to realize their feelings. Sophie was in a lot of ways a security blanket for the team, and now that she’s gone, the team is forced to rely on each other more than before and that means examine how they feel about each other.

Season one is the crush. Season two is the fall. Season three is the pining. Season four is the test drive. And by season five, they’re all in together, the badass cohesive OT3 that we cheer and love in The Rundown Job.

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6. Last but not least, I have a lot of feelings about Sophie and her relationship with the OT3.

Sophie mothers the OT3 a bit but it’s very different with each of them and it’s not the same as with Nate. All members of the threesome are lacking a strong healthy father figure and so they end up in this complicated dance with Nate, who has his own hangups about his son’s death and his less-than-ideal father.

But with the mother, it’s different.

Hardison has his Nana, who’s like a mother but not quite, more like a grandmother. Parker’s mother was a nonentity, and it’s implied her mother died in the explosion that Parker set off in her house. Parker probably saw her mother not defending her from her father, and felt her mother was just as guilty as a result. Eliot’s mother is never mentioned but he had a very close relationship with his father until his teenage years when they had a string of rough arguments and disagreements, which implies to me that he never had a mother--she died or left--which compounded his relationship with his father.

Eliot, however, is also the oldest. There isn’t a very large age gap between himself and Sophie. So his relationship with her is rather like that of an older sibling with a parent (a much older sibling). Sophie relies on Eliot to help Hardison and Parker, and she doesn’t hold his hand as much as she does with them. Their conversation in the boxing ring about Eliot’s violence, where Eliot assures Sophie that he has a handle on it and she doesn’t have to worry about him, is I think an excellent model for their entire relationship. Sophie doesn’t have to worry about Eliot, Eliot’s got himself under control, she can therefore spend more time on the other two.

Eliot and Sophie are also often on the same wavelength about things. Eliot’s the second-best grifter in the group, only Sophie is better than he is, and they approach people in a similar manner although Eliot is much more like an encyclopedia about it with rules in his head while Sophie’s more relaxed and instinctive (I know I’ve ranted about this before but Eliot is autistic and nobody can take that headcanon from me). Sophie’s there if Eliot needs her, but he often doesn’t, he’s grown up without a mom and at this point he’s old enough that he’s kind of past the point where he wants one. More often you miss what you had that was bad or abusive (like Eliot’s father or Parker’s father) than you miss what you never had.

Hardison and Sophie, on the other hand, have the biggest age gap, but Hardison also has the positive woman in his life raising him, his Nana. So Sophie is a mother figure to Hardison in the sense that she looks out for him the way Nate tends to forget to. She’s his mother figure because Nate won’t be Hardison’s father figure the way that he could be if Nate would just get over himself. Half the time you can see Hardison looking at Sophie silently going Mom, what the fuck is up with Dad again, and so that’s how Sophie fills that roll for Hardison.

And then finally with Parker, Sophie is the most traditionally maternal. Parker is in between Hardison and Eliot in age, so still an full grown adult, but also a bit young, she’s only thirty when the show starts, and clearly needs a guiding hand most of all. Eliot helps Parker to understand the world around her because he sees the world the same way that she does (“people like us,” he consistently says) and Hardison helps Parker to feel accepted for who she is and Nate helps her to hone her natural skills and become all that she can be in her profession but Sophie helps Parker learn how to handle people. How to present herself. How to pretend, because Parker sorely needs to know how to pretend, because she’s so raw and open and honest and herself and that makes her vulnerable.

Sophie teaches Parker things, especially social and traditionally feminine things, not with the aim of getting Parker to change herself but so that Parker can imitate those behaviors when she needs them, can pick them up and use them to her advantage. As we see by season five, Parker has mastered this. Parker’s honesty makes her a bad grifter but makes her excellent at convincing marks. Look at the episodes where Parker convinces the mark and pulls off the job--it’s when Parker is honest and raw and just tells it like it is.

But she can’t have gotten there without Sophie’s tools. And to survive in a world of invisible rules that Parker doesn’t know or understand, she needs a guide to explain those rules and point them out, and that’s where Sophie comes in. She is the most hands-on with Parker and the most openly encouraging, without ever making Parker feel demeaned or like a child.

I just have a lot of thoughts about Sophie and the OT3 mmmkay!?

So those are my random sporadic headcanons/metas! I hope that you enjoyed them my dear, wow this got long, oh my, um, join your local union, always tip your server, and pay your hitmen in cash!

#mads answers things #leverage #leverage meta #nathan ford #sophie devereaux #alec hardison #parker #eliot spencer #theproxyfront

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