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#he needs an outlet like that and shutting him in to just fetch in the back yard isnt good for him.
onebrightflash · 4 years
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I actually went and worked on Venture's loose leash heeling and learned a lot. The boy escalates any pressure so trying to use the leash or verbal pressure into getting him to heel nicely only makes him fight harder. This was a constant struggle because all advice for him has been "turn around when he breaks heel!" Or "leash corrections!" Etc. He already has minimal interest in food and his emotions skyrocket at the drop of a hat, so using toys was also a no-go.
It seems I forgot about premack as a tool and utilized that as well as acknowledging that he is a dumb boy with only 5 brain cells and prolonged focus was never a strong suit. His duration skills are still subpar but I have found that allowing him to sniff, pee, and stare at things as reinforcement works significantly more than any "treat bribery" anyone has ever tried.
It took an hour and we didn't even go a full mile, but Ven heeled any time we were moving and had no outbursts about any dogs or cars. We passed three leashed dogs, two dogs barking at their fence, and many cars, and he did really well.
He still has a lot of conflict with dog pressure, and seeing them makes him stare/lie down (fucking border collie) but being able to acknowledge he felt conflicted by letting him experience being there vs trying to drag him out of the situation, get him to heel, etc. made his reaction so much smaller, that he only went into lie down mode twice and was easily brought out of it to go pee on things.
It is so easy for me to get too focused on the details of complex behavior training that I completely forgot a foundational training tool. I wish I had been able to remember this years ago - I'm sure our life would have been much easier.
I'm bringing my mom along tomorrow so we can talk about how to walk him more, since she says she hasn't walked him in almost a year because of how frustrating it is.
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deannaroxannewrites · 3 years
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Tropetember Day 12 - Getting together / Love confession / First kiss / Break-up/Make-up / Fix-it
Limp away with me
Pairing: Armitage Hux x GN!Reader
Fandom: Star Wars
Rating: Teen and up
TW: Injuries, implications of rough childhood
AN: Day 12 of @tropetember. So, this is quite rough and holds a lot of potential for fleshing out into a proper story, whether that's just a longer one or a multi-chapter. Is that something anyone would be interested in? Fix-it fic cos they did General Hugs dirty
Allegiant General Pryde has shot General Hux. Lucky you're the Surgeon General really.
Find this story on Ao3 here.
Word Count: 1.6k
“Allegiant General Pryde just shot General Hux.”
Your breath catches and you allow yourself a moment to close your eyes. Next moment, you’ve grabbed your bag and are focused back on task.
“Collect the body,” you direct them, “and bring it to the medbay autopsy lab. Carefully.”
You and Armitage had prepared for this eventuality. One of the advantages of having a partner in the medical core was that the chances of surviving treason were much higher.
Whilst neither of you had entered First Order service willingly (no matter what Hux said, you had both been forced into it), Armitage had quickly excelled and embraced his duties in an effort to outshine his father. To try and prove himself as worthy. You, on the other hand, had enacted the only act of rebellion against your family that you would be able to survive. You had chosen to enrol in the medical core rather than aiming for command. If you had to be a part of this monstrous cause, you would try to save as many as you could.
You’d worked your way quickly up to the rank of Surgeon General and had been stationed on the Supremacy for a number of years. Thankfully, you’d survived the reign of Snoke and, so far, had survived Ren’s reign of terror. It had been a blessing that Hux had been reassigned to the vessel from the Finaliser. You enjoyed each other’s company and it was helpful to be able to train on your self-defence with someone who wasn’t trying to beat the stuffing out of you to make a point. He was a good outlet for a lot of energy in other ways too.
You glance up from checking you have all your equipment when you realise the orderlies haven’t moved. You turn your most piercing stare on them.
“Did I stutter?”
They look at each other until one of them pulls up their big boy panties and says “he was shot for being a spy.”
You laugh. Mostly at the fact that one looks like he wants to cry and the other like he’s about to collapse. They don’t need to know that though.
“Yes, by Allegient General Pryde who is well known for being a thorough and competent leader. Oh wait. No, he’s not. He’s had a grudge against Hux since he reappeared from whatever hell hole he had been hiding in. I said go fetch me the body! Now!”
They scarper out and you take another deep breath to centre yourself before busying yourself again with grabbing supplies and the emergency make-a-break-for-it kit you stored in your office. You then straighten your uniform, brace yourself and head out into the chaos of the medical bay.
---------------
Armitage is deathly pale when he finally is brought down to you but you swiftly move into action, infusing blood and bacta and checking the depth of the wound. You’d both known that, were he to be discovered, the weapon he was likely to be shot with would pierce the thin body armour he wore beneath his uniform. Unfortunately, it was the maximum thickness he could get away with before it became noticeable but you had both agreed that some bleeding would sell the ruse. You just didn’t like it.
Checking out the wound, you sigh out a quick breath of relief when you realise it is not too deep and hasn’t damaged any of the major blood vessels or organs. Though gruesome to witness, it was mostly superficial.
You lose yourself in your efforts, remaining undisturbed in the autopsy room, until you’re happy that he’s stable for travel. It’s at that point that you revive him, despite the fact he’s going to be in a world of pain.
He slowly blinks into reality with a scowl and a hiss of pain. You try to soothe him as best you can but there isn’t much you can do right now. You need him mobile to get to the shuttle and someone would notice you carrying him.
Gently running your hand through his hair you tell him “come on sweetheart. I know it hurts but we’ve got to move.”
Despite the pain, he seems alert and nods, letting out a grunt of agreement as he allows you to help him sit up and then stand. You gather the spare stormtrooper armour you’d pilfered a few months ago and quickly get him dressed up in it before leading the way swiftly to the small landing bay where Armitage’s private shuttle was stored.
You whisper a thanks to whatever Gods there are that the chaos on board the vessel means that there is noone around and you manage to get the pair of you on board with little drama. In fact, the whole escape into hyperspace is amazingly smooth and once you’re away with your course set, you sag a little in relief.
Or at least, you do until you see Armitage’s slumped frame and quickly grab him and get him moved to the small bedroom to continue his care and knock him back out while he heals.
You’re just about to inject the sedative when he grabs your hand, making you look at him.
“You know you are my world, don’t you?” he asks quietly.
You smile softly and lean forward to press a gentle kiss on his lips. You smile again as you feel him smile against you.
“I do, I wouldn’t have committed treason for anything less.”
He rolls his eyes before pressing another gentle peck to your lips and releasing you to get back your work. You take the opportunity to knock him out for now. It’s how he’ll be most comfortable.
And if you’re grinning so hard your face hurts, noone in deep space can see it. They can’t see you internally debating whether it’s ethical to dope someone up to get soppy confessions from them in the future either.
---------
It wasn’t often that General Dameron of the Resistance found himself in the Outer Rim.
Even 3 years after the end of the war, he was still mostly stuck to the core planets and mid-rim in efforts to support the Senate and help guard the peace which had settled upon the galaxy.
He’d been on a training mission with a few new recruits for Green Squadron when they’d been ambushed and they’d all received some pretty injuries despite eventually winning the battle. Injuries that required attention sooner than they would be able to if they headed back to base.
After a quick argument with Finn via the comms, the squad set course for a local med facility that was gaining a reputation for it’s high quality care.
Poe made sure all his squad were checked out before himself and he was happy that they were all being looked after so well. It was strange. The lead Doctor seemed familiar.
It wasn’t until you met his eyes that he realised.
You calmly continued his consultation, gently palpitating the wounds and collecting dressings, something you appeared to be doing more quickly than he was able to collect his thoughts.
“You!”
You snort. You can’t help it.
“Yes, me General Dameron.” You gently dab some bacta on some of the smaller cuts. “Did that break heal up correctly?”
He nods a bit dumbly. You’d been responsible for his care after Ren and a couple of the Stormtroopers had tortured him. You’d been a welcome relief, if he were honest. In fact, apart from the fact you’d worked for the First Order, he wasn’t aware of any accusations against you.
“I’m glad.” You finish wrapping his wrist and nod. “All done. Your pilots should be ready to go in around 2hrs, just to allow any drowsiness to wear off. I have some spare rooms if you need to stay on planet tonight?”
He thanks you profusely but explains that they are expected back tonight as you head back into the main waiting area. You shake his hand before leaving him and approaching a tall red-head across the room who instantly wraps his arm around your waist and drops a quick kiss on your head. You whisper to him for a few seconds and blue-green eyes suddenly lock with Poe’s before his face breaks out in a smile.
“General Dameron” Armitage says, approaching slowly and holding out a hand to a shell-shocked looking Dameron. “I’m glad you won. You and your squadrons are welcome to drop in here for treatment if you ever require it and are close by. Free of charge”
Poe, for his part, has a LOT of thoughts at this moment. Part of him wants to jump up and arrest him immediately whilst another screams that he was a spy and was seriously harmed because of it. It’s neither of these things that eventually seals his reaction though. It’s the loving glance Armitage throws your way as you offer them both coffee, the expression rendering him almost unrecognisable when juxtaposed against the version he used to know.
“Thank you.” He finally chokes out. “I’m assuming you’re not known by your old names?” Given the whole living in peace and not being turned into the authorities and all that?”
Hux just laughs.
“You would be correct. We’re both going by Y/N’s mother’s maiden name.”
“Oh?”
“Yes” Armitage says, looking far too amused. “We’re Armitage and Y/N Organa.”
Poe’s jaw drops to the flood. How on EARTH was he going to explain any of this?
Turns out, after it became the top recommended med centre by all members of the Resistance, he didn’t have to. He just had to keep pretending he didn’t know Hux had survived and not let Finn anywhere near. Poe was good at keeping his mouth shut.
Strange galaxy you live in really. And you couldn’t be happier
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marvelwritings · 3 years
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A piece of me has disappeared
Summary: By day three, the first doubts set in. He’s convinced Tony is still out looking for him, but putting in the effort doesn’t always guarantee results. These people that abducted him are clever, and they know about his spider abilities. 
or: Peter get's abducted and Tony goes to rescue his son 
Everyone’s sleeping, their breaths loud in the evening quiet. Morgan is in her bed and there’s no doubt that tomorrow at seven am she’ll be up and at ‘em to wake Peter up. Tony and Pepper are across the room of his, their frantic work attitudes finally put to the sleep they so desperately need. Peter is blinking up at his roof in his bedroom, feeling fine, good even, peaceful and sated and most importantly, safe.
Everyone’s sleeping, their breaths loud in the evening quiet. Morgan is in her bed and there’s no doubt that tomorrow at seven am she’ll be up and at ‘em to wake Peter up. Tony and Pepper are across the room of his, their frantic work attitudes finally put to the sleep they so desperately need. Peter is blinking up at his roof in his bedroom, feeling fine, good even, peaceful and sated and most importantly, safe.
Everyone’s sleeping, their breaths loud in the evening quiet and …. The repeats stops working once Peter’s stomach gnaws again, the hunger he’s so gravely experiencing has switched to a whole new level. No longer the petty grumbles of an empty stomach, instead it’s replaced by the need to eat anything, despite Peter’s rationality telling him he can’t. He’s been locked up for at least seven days, but he’s still to sceptic to eat anything his captors offer him. He’s very close to breaking.
He tries to hold on by imagining that he’s at home, but he’s so tired, yet so fitful he won’t close his eyes for more then 10 seconds, and the constant torture is so jarring it hurts worse to imagine home, then be woken up in reality, than to just to be present. Peter wonders if Tony is every going to find him.
The first day, he had no question about it. Tony is scarily determined and protective to anyone who dares come after the people he considers family, Peter got a first row demonstration when some journalist tried to bad mouth Spiderman and he got clocked in the jaw, so Peter knows it’s just a matter of time.
By day three, the first doubts set in. He’s convinced Tony is still out looking for him, but putting in the effort doesn’t always guarantee results. These people that abducted him are clever, and they know about his spider abilities. So much so that they keep him sedated at all times, just enough sedative to keep him conscious, but not too little that he can tap in his superstrength. Peter will never be able to escape on his own.
Maybe if the avengers got called in they were close, but Peter’s not sure Tony would call in people he hasn’t spoken to in a few months, purely to find him. He can hold out hope though.
The third day is also the day his captures, he hasn’t seen any faces so far and the sedative contorts their voices too much to match them to somebody he knows, start with the emotional manipulation. So far, they had stuck to electrocution by tazers and punches applied to any sensitive area of his body, but Peter must not have been broken fast enough for them.
‘You know, you remind me of the stereotypical bad guys in movies, like in kids movies? Do you like kid movies? My favorite is Frozen’, Peter had once babbled in between punches through bitten teeth, trying to keep up his high spirits.
They didn’t like that one bit.
They claim all sort of ridiculous things, like that the Starks paid money for them to have kidnapped him, that Tony never started searching for him, that he might as well give up because no one was coming to fetch him. Peter laughs in their face, witty even in the face of extreme danger. It was still funny to him then. Now, on the evening of the seventh day, he stares unblinking at a wall, only moving when the physical pain becomes too much and he needs an outlet to scream.
‘Please’, he pleads sobbing. If he wasn’t so starved as he was, so mentally vulnerable, he would have been embarrassed. As it stands, Peter’s just so incapable of resisting, he simply gives in.
‘Please stop,’ Peter whimpers. If he had anything to give he’d bargain, but money is tight for May and him, and he has no knowledge of anything avengers related that could be of interest to these people. Mister Stark told him it was for his own safety, so it wouldn’t be used as leverage against him, but in Peter’s warped mind it further adds proof Tony never trusted him.
‘Ahn’, a captor coos, ‘he’s begging already, how cute.’ The voice is distinctly that of a woman’s, but it hold nothing of the warm timbre both aunt May and Pepper possess. He misses them.
The woman slides a hand up in Peter’s hair, and for one confusing moment Peter thinks she’s going to start stroking it, like Tony does, but then she balls her hands into fists and pulls his head aside. The next tazer gets placed in his neck.
‘This wouldn’t be happening if your so beloved mentor would just give up the plans for the new shield initiative, but alas, as long as he doesn’t you’ll be stuck here. The tazzer buzzes to life and Peter seizes up. It’s the so many’th time today, that Peter gives up on holding back, his scream ricochets in the room.
‘Then again, maybe we went after the wrong kid. Maybe we should have taken Tony Starks real kid? The one he actually cares about?’
Tears stumbles down his cheeks and he wishes he could fall back into unconsciousness, but of course life is not that kind. No, he begs inside his head, to warm out to speak. Not Morgan, never Morgan. He’d die before he’d let anything happen to her.
‘What do you think soldier,’ she addresses the second captor in the room, ‘perhaps a phone call would speed Stark along? A sign of life and how close to it being snuffed out the child is? What do you want Peter?’ She asks sickly sweet, as if it’s a regular question and not a taunt.
Still, Peter can’t help but reach out. He longs for one phone call so wholeheartedly. Maybe, maybe he can convince Mister Stark to get him out of this mess. He could promise to do every task Mister Stark ask of him, he could even offer to work for Stark industries until he could pay back the money he’d pay Peter’s kidnappers, anything to get out of here. Peter will do anything.
‘I think he’s agreeing.’ The woman grins, pulling out a burner phone out of her back pocket. She types for several excruciating moments, in which Peter begs to every god listening that Mister Stark will pick up. That he’ll hear Peter out.
‘Hello,’ the woman greets the phone, her smirk so evil Peter’s spider senses warm him to run, fighting through the drugs. ‘I think I have something that belongs to you Stark.’
She lowers the phone to a few inches from Peter’s ear, because Peter is too tied up to hold it on his own. ‘Speak loudly kid.’
The use of the nickname causes shudders to run down Peter’s back. Why can’t he go home?
‘Mister Stark, please help me, I don’t know where I am, but- I want to go home, please mister Stark I-. I’ll do anything you want, just please.’ Peter’s whines gain pitch, until he is nothing but a sobbing mess, barely worth the name Peter Parker, let alone Spiderman.
The phone clicks shut.
‘Whoops, looks like he hung up’, The woman snickers, patting Peter’s cheek with fake compassion. Peter bellows, heaving so severely the nonexistent food he ate threatens to come back up.
He’d never find out the phone was never connected in the first place.
---
By the grace of Peter doesn’t know what, he drops unconscious after the failed phone call to Mister Stark. The sleep is fitful at best, but at least it helps restock his powers. When Peter comes too, there are loud sounds just outside of the room he’s captivated in. He thinks there’s screaming and pleading, but he’s so exhausted he can’t bring himself to care. His hands drop uselessly by his side, his head turned away from the door as he squeezes his eyes shuts.
Why can’t this be over yet?
The door busts of his hinges, the door falls inwards. Immediately, the yellow and red armor, belonging to the iron man suit, rushes in, with the faceplate down. Now that the door is open, or gone more like, It’s clear that all the sounds Peter had been hearing where the scream of his captures. There are many of them, but they’re being taken down one by one.
Peeking aside the Iron man armor, Peter sees a flash of red and blue, and captain America’s shield knocking someone out cold.
‘Kid, kid’, Mister Stark draws his attention in a panic. The faceplate is still down, which means that Mister Stark is either not here, like he wasn’t when the vulture first dropped him into a lake, or he’s assessed the situation and deemed it too dangerous to lower his defenses.
‘You’re okay underoos, we’re getting you out of here.’ With very little effort, Mister Stark snaps restraints on Peter’s wrist and ancles, all the while murmuring under his breath. He’s trying to reassure Peter, but it’s not having any type of effect.
Instead, the comfort causes Peter to burst into tears once more, his body begging for food and pain medication that will make everything stop hurting. He doesn’t care that Mister Stark is doing this out of rightfulness, or maybe out of debt out of some kind that he’s trying to even out, Peter just wants to go home.
Once the restraints are all loose, and Peter is free of them, Mister Stark waits for a tense second, maybe expecting Peter to hob off the table and join the fight or something. That doesn’t happen. Peter lays motionless on the table, looking intensely at the glowing eyes of the iron man suit, maybe trying to convey a message that Mister Stark can’t decipher.
‘Come on Pete, we have to get out of here before they bring backup. I can only hold them off for so long.’
‘Back up?’ Peter ask nonsensical, his spider senses blaring danger at him.
‘Yeah, they’re big fans of the avengers, they’ll all be swarming in here for autographs soon, but we’re kinda busy so we really have to go now.’ Mister Stark turns frantic, his hands carefully, oh so cautiously, gripping at his shoulders.
Peter allows his muscles to turn limp, pliant under strange hands. They belong to his mentor, to one of the only touches he has ever felt that don’t originate from people who are trying to hurt him, but he’s so very terrified, it doesn’t register. Peter holds still, submissive to whatever is about to happen because the pain always seems to end faster when he doesn’t struggle.
‘Peter’, Mister Stark anguished voice insists, his faceplates lifts up, and the dull eyes of who Peter has come to think of as a father gaze upon him with despair. Mister Starks hair is greasy, his mouth is pulled down in a grimace, and his eyes are, for a lack of better word grief stricken. He’s so much older then he was before Peter was taken. ‘Please buddy, we have to go.’
Mister Stark’s calloused finger strokes Peter cheek with the utmost care, barely even pressing firm enough for Peter to feel it. He does though, and traps the touch between his check and his shoulder.  The dam breaks, and the barrier of terror that clouded Peter’s judgment lifts with it. He gasps, coming up for a breath of fresh air, and the moment between mentor and son brings at least a sliver of clarity, before he sinks back under the enormity of his panic.  
‘I can’t walk’, Peter rasps, his throat torn from all the screams. He refuses to let that stop him, he’s so close to safety, he needs to push on further just a tad longer. ‘Please Mister Stark, I can’t walk.’
‘It’s okay Pete’, Tony soothes, pressing an unyielding kiss to his forehead, and if at all possible, Peter see the rage harden his face even more. ‘I’m going to get you out of here, but it’s gonna hurt, I’m sorry.’
Before Peter can begin to process that statement, Mister Stark puts the weight on his knees, the iron man suit helping to lift Peter as if it’s no trouble at all.  Tony is no liar, Peter finds, as his body begs to be placed back on the uncomfortable bed. Even places that had been relatively unharmed ache, and Peter feels like a broken doll.
‘It’s okay Kiddo we’re almost there, just a minute longer.’ Peter clings to Mister Stark, using every ounce of strength to hang on, despite the fact that Tony has a tight grip on him as well. Iron man isn’t fighting alone, as the avengers are here to back him, them, up. In any other situation, Peter would be gushing. Not only is he seeing his heroes in action, but they’re in action for him, to help him, but now, Peter only turns his head to burrow it into Mister Starks chest plate.
‘Please, please’, Peter whispers the entire way to the jet, not even realizing he’s begging for something.
‘I got you Pete’, Tony assures, one hand briefly leaving Peter’s back to shoot at a capture that’s standing in the way of the jet. Other than that, he doesn’t interfere with the fight one time, but he must itch too. Peter hears him bark orders at captain America, telling him to take some of them alive.
‘Please don’t leave me here, I’ll be good, I’ll be good.’
The Jet is nice and warm, something Peter relishes in, but when Tony tries to lower Peter on a medbed, that’s objectively much more comfortable then the bed he was on before, Peter screams. No words are spoken, but the scream startles Mister Stark just the same.
‘Stark, the base is cleared, get him strapped in, Banner is coming’, Natasha ushers, ignoring Peter’s cries and running to the cockpit. Stark has him, she argues, and it does the kid no good to have more prying eyes on him.
‘What is it, are you in pain?’ Tony asks franticly, without responding to Nat, hands hovering over Peter’s body to check for injuries, the light dims when he spots just how badly he was treated in captivity.
Peter screams again when Mister Stark pulls away too far for his liking, latching onto the suit so rigorous it creaks in protests.
‘Please, I’ll be good, don’t leave me, please. I- I know… I’m sorry, Morgan- I’, Peter can’t talk with how much he’s weeping, there are so many things to say and all of them are fighting one another to be said first. Eventually, after everyone has already touched base, the jet leaves and Doctor Banner urgers Tony to place him on the bed, Peter settles for; ‘Don’t leave me here.’
‘Peter’, Tony spits, so harsh that Peter snaps to attention, letting go of the armor and limply following where mister Stark wants him. He gently grips Peter’s chin, mindful of the bruises, and with glistening eyes, he conveys; ‘I’m never leaving you here, do you understand. I don’t care what else you have in your head, but right now, all I need you to know is that I’m not leaving you. Ever.’
He waits for the conforming nod, which Peter only gives when Mister Stark clasps his hand into his. ‘Beside, May would kill me if I came back without her nephew, and I don’t want to be the one to receive her wrath.’ Tony laughs faintly.
He wants to cry at that, good or bad he’s not sure, but instead he allows himself to be lowered, giving in only because Tony is crouching down with him, shielding Peter’s body with his own. It’s unsensical, there in the jet and there’s no danger, but if Peter feels protected Tony will do it, no questions asked.
As soon as he’s in a horizontal positions, Doctor Banner injects him with pain medication, and within seconds, Peter has floated away, dreaming of the lake house with Morgan, Pepper and tony and May at the end of the hallway.
---
Peter knows he’s in the medbay before his body has even fully awoken. He’s been here before, perhaps one to many times for it too be so familiar, and he can recognize the atmosphere from anywhere. The smell of disinfectant lingers around the room heavily, but so does the smell of motor oil, coming from Mister Stark’s lab the floor below the medbay. Usually he’s not alone when he wakes up either, accompanied by Mister Stark or May, maybe even both, and so despite the room having a different connotation, it holds security for Peter.
When all his senses click into place, with an almost audible snap after being out of commission for a week, the burning anguish joins it. It’s almost worse than during the torture itself, because it’s hitting him all at once now, and after stewing for a day his body is one big bruise, but it’s also better, because no more hurt can be added.
Blinking his eyes open, Peter glances around the room and notices that he’s by himself. He hasn’t made up his mind yet whether that’s a good or bad thing. Despite being alone, Peter very nearly cries out for the pain medication he’s sure Tony has at hand. His metabolism runs through painkillers faster than a normal body, but Mister Stark has experience in that department thanks to captain America, which is why Peter never wakes up in the medbay feeling sore.
He’s hoping to snatch some of the good stuff before he can sink away in sleep again, until a dark thought pops up in his head. What if Mister Stark purposefully didn’t give him enough medication so he wouldn’t stay asleep? What if Peter is expected to pay of his debt starting this very moment? It would make sense. Mister Stark is a man that likes to get a move on things, and this is probably no exception.
He bites back a loud whine. He’s so tired and sore, and if he could be anywhere in the world right now he’d choose the lakehouse and rest on the back porch, while looking over Morgan and ensuring she’s safe.
Still, it’s heaps better then what was waiting for him before, so Peter sucks in a deep breath and lifts himself up. He’s dresses in a hospital gown with socks on his feet, the only reprieve of the cold of the tiles that he has. His body fights in protest against the jolting movements, and Peter sinks back into bed three times before finally managing to stay upright. He swallows back bile, and blinks away the disorientation woozing its way through his head.
‘Friday’? He whispers, voice cracking on every syllable.
‘Yes, mister Parker, the AI replies easily, as chipper as a computer can possibly be. ‘It’s good to have you back,’ she adds, when Peter takes too long to reply. It’s not out of rudeness, but the words take a while to be processed in Peter’s hazy mind.
‘Can you tell me what Mister Stark wants me to do?’ Peter finally asks after coughing to clear his throat. Pride flows through his bloodstream when he manages to sound fine.
‘Mister Stark has not given me any directions, but by the distress and elevated heartbeat he experienced whilst at your bedside last, I hypothesize that he would like you to rest Peter.’  
Confusion laces Peter’s next move. Rest? But if that was the case why wasn’t the man here, ensuring that he does like all the other times he’s been in this position?  Deciding not to ask the AI anymore questions, while simultaneously ignoring her advice, Peter focuses on setting one foot in front of the other. If he can’t get a direct answer out of Friday, he’ll just get started on cleaning up in the lab.
The last few times Tony and Peter worked in there, Mister Stark had jokingly grumbled that the lace was getting to disorganized even for his taste, which definitely means something. Peter limps his way to the door, already breathing more heavily and deciding to take a rest against the still closed door. His foot throbs, so Peter switches to put the most weight on the side of his foot, instead of on the balm.
The small trek has left him bone tried, and the lab still seems so far away. Peter tries to calculate how far the lab still is, and agrees with himself to divide the length into smaller stretches. His next stop is at the elevator, so Peter shuffled along the floor, ignoring the black spots that dance before his eyes and threaten to have him collapse.
The extortion reminds him of the time that Toomes dropped a building on him, which is just plain ridiculous, this shouldn’t be half as tough. Peter scolds himself to man up when about halfway to the elevator he bumps into a cart and whimpers.
After finally finding support on the elevator beams, Peter allows himself a twenty second break to cry. At this point, the exact reason for crying is unbeknownst to him. All that he does know is that he feels like a mess, like someone took all the spiderman away from him and left him as a pile of uselessness. He shouldn’t have the right to complain however. Mister Stark rescued him from a fate much worse, the least he could do is help him out.
‘Friday’, Peter pauses to gulp in more air, and to force his tears back. ‘Open the elevator.’
‘Mister Parker I would advise-‘
‘Please’, he begs, voice barely louder then a whisper. The AI complies without further disagreement. The elevator begins to move the floor bellow it, soundlessly passing Peter along. The theme song, a little joke that Tony had installed after they made a song about spiderman, which plays during every elevator ride when Peter is present, stays off. The doors open, and Peter stumbles out, cheering up a dash when the mess doesn’t look as bad as he had imagined it. The clean up should be doable within two hours, even in Peter’s injured state. Most of the mess comes from scattered papers and documents that Tony tosses aside and never bothered to do anything with, and of mechanical parts that are ready to be thrown out.
All in all, not a lot of weight that Peter has to pick up. He has barely started on five pages when the elevator behind him opens again. Peter hadn’t noticed it going to a different floor in the first place.
Lister Stark burst out of the room like the devil himself is after him. He pauses for one second to observe what Peter’s doing -he’s in the middle of bending down at a very lateral pace- and then he’s off again, cursing under his breath.
‘Jesus Christ Peter what are you doing?’
He pulls out a rolling chair from behind his work bench and rushes it to Peter side. ‘Come on, sit.’ He says already clenching a hand around Peter’s bicep to guide him down. In his confusion, Peter follows his instruction.
‘Mister Stark?’ He questions, eyes tracking his mentors movement as if he’s afraid he’s done something wrong and punishment will follow.
There is none, all that Tony does, is fall down on his knees in front of Peter, so they’re making direct eye contact. Peter gulps at the sight. He’s sure those jeans cost more than half of what May ears a month, and if Peter is expected to repay those too, he’ll never be able to pay of his debt.
‘Kiddo, what are you doing?’ Mister Stark asks incredulous, his hand never leaving Peter’s arm. His eyes sweep over Peter’s form, noticing the ailments that he aggravated by walking all the way down here. ‘Why aren’t you in bed?’
‘I thought you wanted me to get started already.’ Peter admits shyly. He can’t understand why he’s being treated with such kindness all of a sudden.
‘Started on what Pete? I don’t understand.’ Mister Stark shuffles closer, one hand coming up to cup Peter’s chin, sweeping gentle circles that are meant to calm himself down as much as Peter.
‘Paying of my debt.’ Peter replies confused, wrapping his arms around his stomach area and bending downwards in an order to self sooth. He needs to get up soon, are Peter’ not sure he will be able to. Now that he’s granting his body some rest, the pain he forced to the back of his mind is rushing back in.
‘What debt kid, you need rest and you need it right now. Stay here, I’m going to go get you a gurney so you don’t require any more walking.’
Right as Mister Stark gets of his knees, Peter’s hand shoots out, gripping the older man’s wrist.  The action was pure habitual, but now that he’s initiated contact he doesn’t know what to do.
‘When will I have to start working then? I’d rather get started as soon as possible, to thank you for everything Mister Stark.’ Peter’s voice pitches even lower, letting his head hang down in shame. He really doesn’t want to offer his suit back, Spiderman is what gives him purpose, but the sooner he no longer has a debt, the sooner he can start working to provide May with an extra income as well. He has no choice.
‘I can give you the suit back if you’ll accept it.’
Tony regards him with perturbation for several long lasting moment. Then, he gasps, finally clicking in his head what Peter is going on about.
‘Oh kiddo, that’s the concussion speaking. Listen to me,’ he sinks back down in front Peter, taking his hand in his. ‘You have done so much for me. If anything it’s me that should be in debt to you.’ Peter pens his mouth to argue, but Tony hushes him softly.
‘You’re not thinking straight buddy, that why spider baby’s need their rest. But truly Peter, you don’t owe me anything. Well except maybe you owe it to  be safe, I think I’ve earned that much.’
‘Really?’ Peter asks optimistically, his whole body filling up with a feeling he can’t name, but it chokes him up until he’s bursting with the urge to give a hug to his mentor.
‘Yeah Peter of course. All I want is my kids to be safe.’
Kids. Tony sees Peter as his kid, as equal to Morgan. A person to love unconditionally without needing any favors, without having any debt. Of course Mister Stark won’t ask that of him, despite his front, the man has a heart that’s made of gold. Mister Stark, his mentor, and his father figure.
‘Dad,’ Peter sobs, almost falling out of the chair in his rush to get to Tony. The man immediately returns the hug, holding Peter up in a way that he hopes will be the least painful for him.
‘You’re okay Peter you’re okay.’
‘I’m so sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking’, Peter confesses, deeply ashamed of how low he thought of his dad.
‘It’s okay Kiddo, like I said it’s the concussion. Of course you were scared, I can’t blame you. I promise that I tried so hard to find you bud. I’m sorry it took me so long.’
Peter says nothing, he’s had enough encounters with Tony now to sense that the man wouldn’t believe him if Peter told him it’s okay. Instead he just nuzzles closer, accepting all the love and affection radiating from Tony, and giving back what he hopes is just as much.
‘Can we go back to the lakehouse?’ Peter asks softly, burring his head in Tony’s neck. It might be a weird question coming from him. He liked the beach house enough, but he has never actively asked to go there when they could stay at the tower as well. But now, Peter won’t feel safe unless his down there, in the cabin hidden behind threes, where the environment is quiet that he can hear everyone’s heartbeat, and can confirm that everyone is safe.
‘Sure kid.’ Tony responds, a tad bewildered, but happy to provide anyway. ‘We’ll leave as soon as you get check out okay. I want to make sure you didn’t rip anything.’
‘Okay’, Peter mumbles, a bone deep tiredness washing over him, and letting him sink down into Tony. ‘Thanks dad.’
If Peter were more awake, he would have noticed the silent tears of happiness streaming down Mister Starks cheek at the name. As it stands, Peter just hums contently when a kiss is pressed at the top of his head, and Tony strikes a hand through his hair.
‘Anything for my son.’
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let-the-dream-begin · 3 years
Text
In My Daughter’s Eyes Chapter 27: Vortex
Chapter 26
Read on AO3
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Vortex: a mass of swirling water that draws everything to it
——
In late August, with September right around the corner, Claire and Faith were about to experience their first hurricane. Claire had experienced all levels of terrifying weather with Uncle Lamb out in the field, including floods, sandstorms, mudslides, and nearly every other manner of natural disasters. Hurricanes, however, had eluded them. They’d only gone to South America one time, and they’d merely seen some heavy rainfall.
Claire had been keeping her eye on the news, seeing how hurricane Matthew was affecting other areas along the east coast. She shuddered to think of them even losing power, let alone anything actually disastrous happening. All news and weather outlets were assuring that by the time it hit the island, it would have lost most of its power, so the storm wouldn’t be devastating, but it would do damage nonetheless.
Claire was doing another scan of the weather channel (which Faith did not appreciate) before work when her phone rang. Jamie.
“Sassenach?”
“This is she.”
“Good morning, lass. Sleep well?”
“I did, is everything alright?”
“Aye, fine. Just wanted to check in. The storm is gonna hit tomorrow; wanted to make sure ye were prepared.”
“Prepared enough,” Claire said, throwing a bar and a yogurt into her purse. “I’ve gotten the bread and milk, as they say. Stocked up.”
“Aye, that’s good. Are ye prepared for losing power?”
“Flashlights are ready with spare batteries and all. Portable charger for the iPad.”
“What about fer you?”
“Oh, I have to be at the hospital before it starts and then stay. It runs on a generator so I’ll be good with a regular charger.”
“Wait, what d’ye mean, stay?”
“Well, I’m considered an emergency worker so I can’t take off. I’m going to have to sleep there if the roads are flooded or blocked with trees.” Claire zippered her purse as she flitted back into the living room, then started pulling on her shoes.
“Ye could be there for days, Sassenach.”
“I know.”
“What about Faith?”
The little girl in question barreled into her as if on cue, waiting for her goodbye. “One second, Jamie. Yes, time for goodbye hugs.” Claire crouched down and gave her daughter a squeeze and a kiss. “Be good for Mrs. Lickett. Yes? Okay, bye-bye.”
With one final kiss and a farewell to Mrs. Lickett, Claire was out the door. “Sorry, what were we talking about?”
“What’re ye gonna do wi’ Faith while ye’re at the hospital?”
“Oh,” Claire said, opening her car and sliding into the driver’s seat. “I’m dropping her off at the Abernathy’s with a few provisions before work tomorrow. After I’ve taped all the windows, of course,” she added wryly.
“She’ll be alright?”
Claire sighed as she started the car. “She’s going to have to be.”
Her voice wavered, and she cursed herself.
“She’s never spent the night away from home. Will she no’ get upset?”
“I don’t really have much of a choice.” She was not defensive or angry, but resigned, sad. She didn’t want to leave Faith at someone else’s house, but she could not very well ask Gail to live with her toddler and child in her small apartment for an indeterminable amount of time. The fact that they’d opened their home to Faith was kind enough. She couldn’t very well ask it of Mrs. Lickett, either. Her children were older, but she still shouldn’t be away from them for that long during a potentially dangerous storm.
Jamie was silent on the other end, and as Claire turned onto the main road, something clenched in her throat. He couldn’t be upset with her, could he? He couldn’t be judging her decision, condemning her for planning to dump her child off during a natural disaster? Logic told her that of course he wouldn’t, but she was so god damned insecure about it all herself that she could not be calmed.
“You still there?”
“Aye,” he answered quickly. “Sorry, I was thinking.”
Claire swallowed. “What about?”
He paused again. “Tell me to shut my gab at any point going forward,” he began uncertainly.
Claire’s brow furrowed. “Ehm, alright…”
“What if…what if I stayed wi’ her. In her own home.”
Claire was gobsmacked. Her mouth actually dropped open in surprise.
“Please tell me no if ye’re truly no’ comfortable, Claire. I mean it. I ken it may be too soon, and I understand. I just thought to offer — ”
“Jamie,” Claire cut him off. “It’s okay…I…” She blinked away tears. “Would you really be alright doing that?”
“Aye,” he said quickly, perhaps a bit too quickly. “Anything I can do to make it easier fer her. It’s gonna be scary.”
Claire swallowed thickly. “She’s heard thunderstorms before.”
“I’m sure. But this willna be like anything she’s ever experienced. And Gail is lovely, truly, she’s a blessing fer ye both, but she’s…she’s no’ you.”
“And she’s not you,” Claire said, finishing for him what he likely was thinking but would never say.
“Claire, I’d never presume —”
“Well I would,” Claire said. “There’s no denying you have the experience that Gail lacks, Jamie. And Faith trusts you. And I trust you.”
He was silent, likely processing what she said. Claire turned into the employee parking lot.
“Besides,” Claire said with a chipper tone that was only slightly forced. “It’ll be good for her to have you all to herself. You’ve never been alone with her before.”
She heard him chuckle. “Aye. Ye think she’ll like that?”
Claire put her car in park, and her heart swelled, warming her from the inside out. “I really think she will.”
——
Jamie arrived the following morning with a duffle bag and a backpack. The sky was already gray, the air thick with the oncoming storm, the wind picking up. He’d half expected the skies to open up on his way there.
The door opened, and his heart cracked. Claire’s sweet, lovely “hello” included a smile, but he could see that frantic look in her eye. She was close to tears. He greeted her gently and then addressed the bouncing, squealing thing below them.
“Ah, yes, hello, wean.” He cupped her head gently to stop her bouncing. “I’m happy to see you, too, lass. Can ye fetch ballerina Minnie Mouse? I’d like to see her if ye dinna mind.”
Like a shot, she was off, eager to please Jamie, and Jamie pulled Claire into his arms. She clung to him tightly, breathing deeply into his neck.
“It’s times like these,” she began shakily, “that I believe Frank was right.”
His brow furrowed. “Whatever d’ye mean?”
“That I should’ve given it up, that I still should.” She sniffled. “I don’t know if I can leave her for several days during…during what they’re saying it’s going to be…”
“It’s alright, Sassenach.” He kissed the top of her head, and then Faith emerged from her room, waving the stuffed animal above her head. “Ah, thank ye, lass. What about…” He wracked his brain, trying to remember any of the dozens of toys she’d shown him. “Daisy Duck? Can I see her?”
She was off again, and Claire laughed wetly against him.
“Listen to me, Claire Beauchamp.” Jamie pulled far enough away so that he could tilt her chin up and look her in the eye. “Ye’re a doctor because it is what God put ye on this Earth to do. Ye’re a damn fine one, from what I gather. Ye’re going to help lots of people in the next few days, people that might have been much worse of wi’out ye.”
“What about the baby that He gave me?” Claire said hoarsely. “The baby with…so much that she needs from me…”
“It’s not just you,” Jamie said, with the most careful combination of firmness and gentleness he can muster. “No’ anymore.”
Claire rested her forehead against his, breathing deeply. “It’ll be alright,” he assured her, Faith puttering back in with the next toy. He praised her quietly, tucking Daisy under his arm with Minnie. “I will do everything in my power to see that she’s alright these next few days.”
“I know,” Claire said, then pressed her lips to his. “I know.”
Faith was reaching up, bouncing again impatiently. Jamie handed her back down her toys; evidently, she did not like them out of place for very long.
“I can’t thank you enough for this,” Claire said, squeezing his hands. “I think I’d be beside myself if I left her away from home. Well,” she laughed dryly, “more so than I already am.”
“It is an honor to ease yer burden, mo ghraidh.” He lifted their joined hands and kissed her knuckles fervently. 
Claire led him around the apartment to show him one last time where everything was kept; Faith’s vitamins and nighttime medicine, snacks, candles, spare batteries, matches. Jamie had remembered, but he let her show him all of it again to ease her mind. He knew it helped her feel like she had more control over the situation.
“Once the power goes out,” she said, gathering her own duffle bag with her overnight essentials. “Either soybean butter and jelly, cold cuts from that cooler that’s still in the fridge for as long as they’ll keep, or the spaghetti-o’s. Just pretend you’re using the microwave or something and she’ll never know the difference.”
Jamie nodded seriously, though he’d remembered all that, too.
“And watch her with the fridge. She’ll keep it open and stare in there looking for something which is bad enough when there is power. Make sure she doesn’t let the insulated coolness out if you can help it. Though if it’s gone for too long it’s a moot point.”
“Right. Got it.” Jamie nodded curtly. A large gust of wind howled outside, rattling the windows.
“Jesus.” Claire shuddered.
“Ye’d better get going before ye get stuck in the oncoming downpour,” Jamie said.
“Right.” Claire froze in the middle of the living room, her eyes glued to Faith, sitting cross-legged with Angus’s head in her lap, calmly stroking his fur. Jamie’s heart strained, and Claire looked like she might cry again. She exhaled heavily and crouched down next to Faith.
“Hey, baby.” She cupped her little head and smiled. Faith kept her attention on Angus, and Claire gently tapped her nose. “Can you look at me, Faith?” She did not, and so Claire took her hands off of Angus and held them between hers. Somewhat annoyed, Faith looked up at Claire, obviously waiting for her hands to be released. “Hi,” Claire said. “Remember what we said? Quiet hands, quiet feet, and quiet mouth for Jamie.” She pointed to each mentioned body part. “And listening ears on.” Claire poked each of her ears, one after the other. “Mummy will be gone for a few days, but Jamie is going to play with you, and keep you safe. It’s all going to be okay. It might get very dark, or very loud, and there might not be any tellie. But Jamie is going to make sure you’re okay. Yes?”
Faith moaned impatiently, and it was unclear if she was listening.
Jamie is going to make sure you’re okay.
Jamie’s chest involuntarily puffed out, and his back straightened. He silently and solemnly vowed to do just that.
“I’m going to miss you, lovie.” Claire cupped both of Faith’s cheeks. “I love you.” She held up the sign, and Faith mirrored her as always, pressing their foreheads together.
“I’m going to call every day. I’ll talk to you on the phone. I promise.” Claire pulled Faith in  for a hug, squeezing her tightly. “Big goodbye hugs,” she whispered into her hair.
When Claire released her, she stood up with a heavy sigh. Jamie was holding her duffle bag, and he walked her to the door.
“Please be careful,” Jamie said. “Text me when ye get there.”
“I will.”
He kissed her deeply, pressing her tightly to him. When their lips parted, he looked into her eyes, those swimming pools of amber and honey. On his tongue was something he’d known, something he’d been burning to unleash from within him since April.
I love you.
Instead, he swallowed thickly and kissed her forehead. “Drive safe, Sassenach.”
With one final squeeze of his hand and a reassuring smile, she was gone. Jamie ran a hand over his face before peeking out the window to make sure she pulled out of the driveway. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to tell her. Christ, he’d wanted to reply with it the second he watched that video; he’d wanted to tell her that day in the office, he’d wanted to tell her on the ferris wheel, the carousel, he’d wanted to tell her when she fell asleep and drooled on his shoulder halfway through The Godfather, he’d wanted to tell her when he’d finally positioned himself between her legs and entered her, and felt so completely fulfilled and complete, and every time he was in that position thereafter.
But he didn’t. He couldn’t. Not until she was ready to hear it.
He knew she was scared; no matter how well this was going, he knew she was still worried and paranoid. He wouldn’t rush her.
A giggle pulled him out of that train of thought, and he realized that Claire’s car was long gone. It had also already started to rain, and it would definitely get nasty soon. He turned to see Faith grinning impishly down at Angus, who was licking Faith’s open palm over and over. This was something she did often, put her palm right at his snout and wait for him to oblige her. Jamie supposed she liked the tickling sensation. He smiled and made his way to the couch, sitting down and watching Faith with her loyal companion for a while.
Claire had given him a whole list of things that Mrs. Lickett usually does with Faith while Claire is gone for the day. There was play-doh, the big clunky legos (both good for fine motor), the flashcards for identifying signs, and of course coloring. On the list, Claire wrote that when Faith colored with Mrs. Lickett, Mrs. Lickett always — underlined several times — signed the color that Faith picked up. Color identification would be a big deal once she started school.
Something else that Jamie knew would come once school started was the school district-provided tablet for text to speech communication. Claire had been recommended speech therapies to get a head start on that, but she’d turned them all down, insisting that it was very important to her that Faith know how to sign before relying solely on the screen. And since Faith had proven capable, she’d stuck to that.
It amazed Jamie how Claire somehow just knew what was best for her child. Jamie saw all too often at the stables parents that had no idea what they were doing. Which was understandable and nothing to be judged about. But when he’d reach out, recommend additional services, hint that they might get more out of equine therapy if they approached certain things a different way, they didn’t want to hear it. It was hard to watch those kids regress because their parents weren’t willing to set their pride aside and admit they weren’t aware of something. But his reach only extended so far, and if he was going to sleep at night, he had to let those things off his conscience.
With Claire, if someone offered her advice, she could plainly tell them that she’d already researched that and had either tried it or decided it was not going to work, but thank you very much. Prompt speech therapy, for instance. If Jamie had a nickel every time Claire complained to him that yet another person had recommended Faith try it, he’d be quite the rich man. Prompt speech involved a lot of touching, and Faith would certainly not be okay with that. Even if it meant her daughter would never say a word, Claire would not put her through it. Not even an eval.
And Jamie admired the hell out of her for it.
After letting Faith continue with Angus for a bit, Jamie intervened and ushered her into the kitchen for some “structured play with learning benefits,” as Claire had referred to it. Faith, having never done any of the listed activities with Jamie, wanted to do every single one. They went on even longer than Jamie had anticipated she would sit still for because playing these games with Jamie was a novelty. They built a castle with a wall with her legos, made several snakes and desserts out of play-doh, colored, and worked on signs. Faith was not satisfied until every single card was flipped over and worked on. Jamie knew full well that she did not insist on such a thing with Mrs. Lickett. It made him grin smugly and melt at the same time.
It was pouring in earnest by the time Jamie finished getting through Faith’s stack of flashcards. Instinctually, he checked his messages from Claire, even though she’d told him hours ago by now that she’d gotten in safely. The wind was picking up, too, turning into a constant roar.
“Ye’re brilliant, Princess Faith,” Jamie said, giving her a thumbs up. “Ye did such great work today, lass. I’m so proud of you.”
She smiled cheekily and then reached for her crayons and princess coloring book again. Rain suddenly pelted against the kitchen window, the wind having changed direction to blast the water right into the glass. Faith dropped her crayon with a startled cry and clamped her hands over her ears. Jamie had to admit it even startled him.
“It’s alright, lass,” he crooned, getting out of his chair to kneel beside hers. He stroked her back soothingly. “Just the rain. It’s alright.”
She kept her eyes squeezed shut and her hands on her ears, so Jamie switched tactics. He scooped her in his arms, cradling her to his chest. He brought her out of the kitchen and deposited her on the couch. If the wind was blowing into the window in the back of the apartment, perhaps a similar noise would not happen in the front windows. He called Angus over when Faith still would not move or open her eyes, and after a few minutes of deep pressure, she at least opened her eyes. Jamie was then able to coax her into picking a DVD. They were on borrowed time until they lost power, so he thought it best to take advantage of the tellie while they still had it.
She ended up choosing a Winnie the Pooh movie, jabbing at it with her elbow, hands still on her ears. She didn’t even take them off to put the movie in the player, though she stood by and watched every move Jamie made as he did so instead. As the DVD started playing the previews before the “play” screen, Faith got behind Jamie and started pushing against his legs. He took this as his cue to walk, and he allowed her to push him into her bedroom. He knew immediately what she wanted. He smiled widely as he stepped into the room and picked up the enormous “Pooh Bear” that he’d won for her at the carnival. Faith hummed in excitement and bounced a little as Jamie carried the giant bear into the living room and deposited him on the couch. She skipped back into her room and Jamie gathered the rest of her Hundred-Acre Wood friends, arranging them around their giant leader.
A few minutes into the movie, Faith finally took her hands off her ears and began enjoying the movie in earnest. The wind continued to howl and the windows continued to rattle, but the movie drowned most of it out for now, as did Faith’s giggling and humming along to the little songs. At one point, she moved all of the little toys into Jamie’s lap and tipped over the giant bear so she could lay bodily on top of him. It really was practically a mattress underneath her. She nuzzled further in, humming contentedly and smiling broadly, bottom lip caught between her teeth. Jamie smiled down at her, her eyes fixed on the screen, and then he brought his legs up on the couch, cross-legged, so he could fit every toy she’d given him in his lap, holding onto them with as much care as he would if Faith herself was in his lap.
The power went out before the movie finished, close to the end if Jamie deduced correctly. Faith immediately sat up, nearly toppling off the couch because of her uneven position on the bear. Jamie felt dread settling in his gut, and he immediately wanted to kick himself. He’d made the wrong move, and he was about to pay dearly for it.
Faith slid off both bear and couch and marched right up to the tellie. She began pushing all the buttons on the tellie and the DVD player, the volume of her whining increasing. Jamie set aside her toys and approached her tentatively.
“Faith, it’s alright. Remember what Mummy said? That there might be no tellie?”
With a great wail, she began slapping her hands against the television screen, and Jamie grabbed her wrists.
“No, lass, ye canna do that. No hitting.”
She began screaming in earnest, jerking against him with all her might.
“I’m sorry, Faith. The tellie is all done. I’m sorry.”
Fat tears rolled down her cheeks as she continued to pull against his grip on her wrists. He swiftly picked her up under the arms and deposited her away from the electronics. She pointed at the tellie, bouncing impatiently, wailing all the while.
“Aye, lass. I ken. It’s my fault, I’m sorry.” Jamie genuinely hated himself at the moment. He thought they’d have time before the power was gone, he thought that it would be good for her to be able to watch a movie that wasn’t downloaded to her tablet. He should’ve thought of this possibility, and he should’ve known that she’d be grossly unhappy if the movie was unable to finish. It would drive her mad for hours, knowing that the movie was sitting unfinished in the player. She couldn’t even get it out of the player to put away. One of her biggest OCD triggers had gone off, and it was his fault.
Jamie wracked his brain. Claire had said if she were melting down to either give hugs and cuddles, or to deposit her in her room and let her scream it out. That is if Angus didn’t do the trick. Jamie tried for the hug, but narrowly avoided a swinging fist. Clearly she blamed him for the tellie’s sudden malfunction. As she should, he thought miserably.
He called Angus over just as Faith started swinging her arms with abandon, and Jamie caught one of her fists before it collided with a picture frame on the table behind the couch. She pushed at his hand, punched his arm, pulled backward, but Jamie knew that if he let go, she’d dive right for trouble and possibly break something. Angus arrived just as Faith sank her teeth into the skin of Jamie’s hand.
He swore in Gaelic, and then he pinched her nose shut, causing her mouth to immediately open as a reflex. Jamie shook his hand, hissing in pain, but he didn’t skip a beat. He maneuvered himself to be behind Faith, and he scooped up the photos in her reach. He stood back and let Angus do his job, shoving his bleeding hand into the pocket of his shorts to avoid dripping anywhere else. At least if it stained, it wouldn’t be where anyone could see.
Angus kept hopping up on his hind legs so he could brush his snout against Faith’s screaming face, gently patting her chest with his paw before falling to all fours again. Every time, Faith pushed him away with an indignant yelp, but he kept trying until she sank to the ground with him, tightly squeezing his neck. Jamie sighed with relief when girl and dog were settled in a pile on the floor. He took the opportunity to put a bandaid on his hand before it soaked through his pockets.
When he returned after being in the bathroom for mere seconds, Faith’s screaming had been reduced to a heartbreaking, whimpering sobbing. Angus used his front paws to stop Faith from scratching and hitting her face or pulling at her hair, and he started licking her palms to keep them otherwise occupied. Jamie sighed and quietly made his way to the kitchen, where he could sit down and still see her through the doorway. He kept his eyes glued to her, his leg jiggling and his left hand tapping on his thigh. The urge to press her to him for comfort was painfully strong. Ignoring the urge to comfort was just as painful as it had been with her mother, all those months ago, before he’d ever really held her.
Jamie’s eyes must have glazed over, either with tears or weariness, because when he blinked, Faith was standing right in front of him, still weeping quietly.
“Hi, leannan. What d’ye need?” He restrained himself from touching her. Her hands were laced in Angus’s fur, sitting dutifully beside her. “What d’ye need, Faith? Show me?”
She inhaled slowly with a great tremor, and on the exhale, she put her arms up in front of her with a long, drawn out whimper.
I need a hug.
He heard her, loud and clear.
“Oh, lass…” Jamie’s voice broke, and he practically sprang forward. “Come here…I’ve got ye.” He scooped her into his lap and hugged her tightly, rocking gently. “It’s alright, now. Ye’re alright. I’ve got ye. Dinna fash, now. It’s alright.”
Claire had said that during a meltdown she wouldn’t want to be touched, but that perhaps after, she’d need to be held. Jamie had thought about it, then brushed it off. This was his fault. It was clear she’d blamed him for the mishap. She’d bitten him, swatted at him. She’d take her comfort from Angus until she was calm, and then she’d ask to be fed. That was what he’d thought.
But here she was, clinging to his shirt and sputtering into his neck, wetting his collar.
“I know, mo chridhe, I know…” he soothed. “I’m sorry, leannan. It’s alright. I’m sorry…”
He continued to whisper such platitudes, in both English and Gaelic, rocking her and holding her tightly. He knew how silly his train of thought had been. He’d seen with his own eyes this exact same pattern of kids coming back again and again despite how much it seemed like they hated their parents or guardian. He was always the first to assure a parent that it was never personal, that the child just could not see past their distress and only wanted to swat at whatever was in the way.
But even the thought of Faith resenting him had made him sick, however briefly it came to him. He couldn’t mess this up; god, he just couldn’t.
She burrowed in further, nuzzling her wet cheek against his neck, and then her hands came up to caress his beard stubble. Jamie smiled involuntarily. He knew she liked how that felt. He let her rub her hands and arms all over his cheeks, even shaking his head back and forth so she could feel it across her skin.
And then, after an indeterminable amount of time, she was quiet.
——
Claire [9:22]: Made it here alive. Just in time it would seem. Have a good day. xx
Jamie [9:25]: glad to hear it. stay safe. good luck. xx
Jamie [10:03]: cheerios and a banana for breakfast. made sure she had milk too.
Jamie [10:03]: not in the cereal, mind. I ken she doesn’t like that.
Jamie [10:37]: *photo attachment*
Jamie [10:37]: look at the size of that castle :)
Jamie [11:16]: *photo attachment*
Jamie [11:16]: “snakes. why did it have to be snakes.”
Jamie [11:16]: since i ken you’re too busy to answer, i’m just going to trust that you got that reference.
Jamie [11:17]: don’t panic, they’re made of play-doh. lol.
Jamie [11:56]: *photo attachment*
Jamie [11:56]: the art gallery we’ve created today
Jamie [12:32]: *photo attachment*
Jamie [12:32]: the gang’s all here for movie time. bet ye can’t guess what we’re watching ;)
Jamie [12:32]: got through a bunch of signs cards today btw. she did great. very proud.
Claire [12:46]: Thanks for all the updates. Faith looks so happy in all these. You’re amazing Jamie. Thank you.
Jamie [2:17]: power went out a bit ago. wee meltdown, but she’s alright now. eating soybean butter and jelly. already picked oreos for her treat.
Claire [2:18]: I saw the word meltdown. Do you need me to call? Are you okay? Any blood or bruises?
Jamie [2:19]: everything is fine. angus did a great job. i swear she’s perfectly content now. back to work missy.
Jamie [3:24]: *photo attachment*
Jamie [3:24]: needed to hold the flashlight while she did this so i couldn’t help. shame. i love puzzles. can’t believe how dark it got.
Jamie [3:24]: she’s got the headphones on now. wind is really loud. hope everything is ok by you.
Claire [4:04]: I’ll be able to call at 7:30. If she starts asking for me, tell her that.
Jamie [4:05]: aye aye captain
Jamie [6:02]: dinner promptly at six. spaghetti-os.
Jamie [6:55]: *photo attachment*
Jamie [6:55]: a wee faerie in her den.
——
Jamie tucked his phone back in his pocket after sending the latest message, smiling contentedly. The “faerie den” was a fort of sheets in the living room, tall enough for Jamie to sit up. Draped around the edges above their heads were battery powered string lights that Jamie had picked up a few days ago. He’d also blown up the air mattress that he’d known Claire had (with a battery powered air pump), put on a fitted sheet, and piled it with blankets and pillows from both Faith’s bed and Claire’s bed. Claire had told him to sleep in her bed, so he’d assumed the pillows would be up for grabs to do with as he pleased.
Faith was absolutely enamored with it. The smallness of the space made her feel cozy and safe, and it also made it easy to illuminate, so it was very bright in there in an apartment that was otherwise very dark. The worst of the storm was happening right at that moment, and it was dark as night at six in the evening in August. If Faith hadn’t been wearing her headphones, she’d be inconsolable at the sound of the wind, the occasional crack of a tree, the rattling of the windows. But she was blissfully unaware, petting her dog in her faerie den, tablet at the ready.
After Claire’s phone call, Jamie pulled out his flashlight and led Faith to the bathroom to brush her teeth. On their way there, she tried turning on every light switch they passed, growing increasingly distressed the more she encountered that would not work. When they reached the bathroom, she flipped the switch an uncountable amount of times and then started crying. No matter what Jamie did, she would not allow him to brush her teeth; she just sat on the floor with Angus and cried inconsolably. Jamie brushed his own teeth to the sound of her wailing, and she only got off the floor when Jamie pushed aside one headphone and she heard the words “faerie den” in her ear.
She calmed down very quickly after she was settled back in her bright little safe space. Jamie quickly shot Claire a text that teeth-brushing did not go very well, but that he’d snagged the Risperdal and dropper from the medicine cabinet so he could give it to her without reminding her that the lights weren’t working.
Apparently, she’d be sleeping in the fort tonight. Jamie had anticipated the possibility, which is why he’d included the mattress, blankets, and pillows. The question was whether or not he’d be sleeping in there.
The answer came shortly after when Faith had fallen asleep in his lap at the end of the movie she’d put on for them to watch on her tablet: Brave. Jamie couldn’t hear since she was using her headphones to continue to block out the storm, but he watched it playing, laughing when she did, pointing at the screen and signing to her occasionally. It was a whole new experience, watching her watch it rather than watching it with her. The only audio he got was from Faith herself, humming along to the music. It made his heart ache with love.
They were nestled in a veritable nest of blankets and pillows when Faith fell asleep in his crossed legs, head resting against his heartbeat. For a moment, he told himself he would simply stay in that position all night, that it would be worth it if it brought her a good night’s sleep after the chaos of the day. But then his hip started cramping in the open position, and he remembered he hadn’t given her Risperdal yet. So he had to move. 
Cradling her like a tiny infant, he lifted her off his lap and laid her gently atop a free section of the air mattress. He commanded Angus to lay beside her and left the fort to put on the sleep clothes he’d brought in his duffle bag. Just as he got his shirt off, Faith started whining. He quickly finished dressing and crawled back into the fort.
“I’m here, leannan. I’m right here.”
Right. So he was definitely sleeping in there.
After coaxing her to take the dropper of her medicine, Jamie swiped a pillow off the air mattress. She began whining again.
“Come on, lass. I’m no’ going anywhere. See?” He settled in on his pillow, facing the air mattress and looking up at her. “Go back to sleep.”
She did, and Jamie flicked off three out of the four strings of lights inside the fort before laying down again, getting as comfortable as he could on the floor.
——
Jamie [9:02]: she’s asleep. we watched brave in the fort and she crashed. made sure she had her medicine.
Claire [9:11]:  Of course you watched Brave. That’s the one she associates with you.
Claire [9:11]: I’m in bed now myself. These cots are not nearly as comfortable as my bed. Especially when you’re in it.
Jamie [9:11]: don’t start talking about me being in your bed. not when i can’t do anything about it.
Claire [9:12]: ;)
Claire [9:12]: Really though, I’m about to crash myself. Sleep well, darling. Give Faith a kiss for me.
Jamie [9:12]: what about me?
Claire [9:12]: I think you know exactly what you can give yourself. From me.
Claire [9:12]: ;)
Claire [9:12]: Goodnight, Jamie.
Jamie: [9:12]: goodnight sassenach
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raendown · 3 years
Link
Pairing: MadaraTobirama Word count: 2255 Summary: The one where you feel aroused whenever your soulmate does
Follow the link or read it under the cut!
KO-FI and commission info in the header!
Chapter 223
Madara was halfway through the speech he’d spent hours preparing, in full view of the entire council of advisors, when his words stumbled and his entire body grew warm. From the other end of the table Hashirama and Izuna gave him looks of great concern. He avoided both of their gazes. After clearing his throat he cast around trying to pick up the threads of his carefully laid arguments and continue on but the stride had been broken, the careful build up he’d been relying on interrupted by an untimely wave of something he really didn’t want to think about in a room filled with stuffy clan heads. 
“We’ll have to think on this matter a little more,” Yamanaka-san told him when he stuttered to a halt for the second time. 
“Don’t give me that,” Madara snapped. He knew as well as everyone else in the room what that meant. It meant no. “I haven’t even gone over-”
The words failed on his tongue as another wave of heat washed over him. Whatever his soulmate was doing at the moment he hoped someone came along and interrupted their fun at just the wrong moment. If his day had to be ruined by their untimely lust then it was the least they deserved in return. 
At the very least a careful look around the room showed that no one seemed to have noticed exactly what was bothering him. Hashirama’s gaze had already fallen back in to a bored, empty look. Izuna was frowning with open concern. Most of the advisors were either drumming their fingers with impatience as they waited for their own turn to speak or jotting notes down on the papers in front of them. Out of everyone in the room Tobirama was the most likely to notice, his eye for detail surpassed by very few, but the intensity of his gaze hadn’t changed in the slightest and despite how closely he’d been watching since Madara stood up from his chair the man’s expression hadn’t so much as twitched. 
They weren’t exactly very close but Madara knew Tobirama well enough to know he would have at least some sort of reaction to seeing the head of the Uchiha clan grow hot with lust in the middle of addressing the council. 
“I have a few thoughts on this matter myself,” Hyuga-san piped up and that was when Madara realized that he'd lost this argument. It didn’t matter whether the points he’d been trying to make were good or valid or benefited the village as a whole. The Hyuga clan head would always stand in opposition to him and somehow the man had wheedled himself in to better graces with the others than Madara would ever be able to with his naturally caustic personality. They would side with Hyuga-san as soon as he finished speaking. Just because he already knew it would happen, however, didn’t mean he had to like it. 
For the rest of the meeting Madara slumped in his chair with arms crossed and jaw rigily set, doing his best to project as much insult and anger as he possibly could. Partly because he really was feeling that way and he wanted the rest of the council to understand how much he did not appreciate their favoritism. It was also partly to cover the gentle waves of arousal that continued to wash over him from time to time like the other half of his undiscovered bond were being continually distracted by something they found pleasing in all the right ways. If he wasn't so irritated he might have been grateful, actually. Shameful as it would have been to admit to anyone, Madara had been so busy lately that he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a few minutes to take himself in hand let alone the last time he’d been able to seek out any form of relationship, temporary or not. Having the time to follow up on the echoes of someone else’s lust would have at least been a great stress relief. 
Unfortunately the hardness inside his clothing did nothing to make the mountains of paperwork on his desk go away. Madara adjusted himself as discreetly as possible before standing up at the end of the meeting, stomping his way out of the room in the hopes he could turn the fire in his blood to a different kind of energy. It sort of worked. He always had been quick to anger, though it was difficult to stay truly angry now that his mind had been thoroughly distracted, supplying him with all sorts of interesting images from the last relationship he’d actually had time for. They hadn’t lasted very long but by all the gods that man could bend. 
When he realized he was contemplating the risks of slipping down in to the archives and hoping no one would follow, Madara shook himself, determined to be productive. The village needed him to do his work and none of the papers on his desk were going to get done any faster if he was off somewhere indulging pointless bodily needs. He would have to soldier on. 
The first thing on his to do list was to pick up the information packet he’d been too distracted to take with him after the meeting, necessary to have with him if he wanted to get anything done on the academy project. His nose wrinkled. Fetching that meant going down to Tobirama’s office since he was the one who’d been handing them out and he was the one who would have gathered up any left behind. Madara was grateful they’d been getting along better over the past few months - it was surprisingly difficult to remember when they’d last fallen in to one of them infamous screaming matches - but he really didn’t want Tobirama’s attention on him right now. Of all people to need something from, of course it had to be the one who always wanted to notice the whole room. 
Several curses for bad luck were still spilling out of his mouth when Madara found himself pounding on the door. Tobirama’s voice rumbled from inside for him to come in, sounding entirely unsurprised. Either he’d sensed Madara coming or he’d made a note of who exactly left their info packet behind. Possibly both. 
“Do I get three guesses for what you need?” Tobirama asked in lieu of a greeting. His tone was almost dry enough to cover the hints at humor underneath but it was there just enough to stoke Madara’s temper. 
“Fuck you,” he snarled without thinking.
“Now, now, Uchiha, if you’re not polite to me then I don’t see why I should need to cooperate with you.”
“Fuck you with a sharp stick!”
Madara knew he had anger problems. Knew that he tended to let his emotions get the best of him with alarming frequency. Right now when his body was fighting off the heat of another’s thoughts was not the time to think about standing down and rethinking his approach. No, he was already too much on edge to even consider the idea of self control and as much as he would later very smugly point out that it all worked to his benefit, at the moment all he could feel was exasperation for himself when Tobirama lifted one of those perfect eyebrows and Madara heard his own voice explode. 
Several months of good behavior went out the door all at once with one great roar of temper. 
Contrary to most of the fights they typically engaged in, Tobirama didn’t seem very interested in fighting back. For some reason that only incensed Madara further, driving him to scream louder, as if the man had done him some terrible wrong by not providing him with a proper outlet for all this unwanted energy sizzling under his skin. No matter how he swore and raged and shouted Tobirama did nothing but sit with his chin resting on a cushion of long fingers woven together, mouth set in some enigmatic line, eyes dark and intense as they watched Madara’s every movement. It was almost creepy how closely he watched without ever engaging. 
Yet worse than being stared at like some freakish zoo exhibit were the constant waves of increasing lust. Madara wished he could say that his anger was burning it away like he’d hoped but it only seemed to make it worse. The more he let himself get riled up the more his belly roiled with fire, body almost aching to be pressed against whatever hard surface was most convenient and fucked within an inch of his life. It really had been too long.
If he’d been allowed to run the course of his little temper tantrum and storm off immediately afterwards the way he normally did Madara wasn’t sure he ever would have figured it out. The vicious snarl he let out when someone opened the door unannounced was accompanied by a sharp spike of want that absolutely did not match the face that stared back at him in surprise. Izuna blinked at him once, spared his best friend the same baffled look, then looked at the door he was still holding open. 
“Damn, I need you to add these seals to my office sometime. I didn’t hear a damn thing from out in the hall.”
Madara growled to have his beautifully crafted insults cut off when he was in the middle of a really good stride. His jaw opened to demand that Tobirama do no such thing only to snap shut when he caught sight of the man he’d just been abusing for who the hell knew how long. Of all the expressions he might have expected to see, shame was not one of them. He wouldn’t have guessed Tobirama even knew what shame felt like but there it was in the faint twist of lips and the guilty shifting of weight. It wasn’t until he realized one of Tobirama’s hands was out of sight under the desk that his brain made a leap from Point A to somewhere along the lines of Tab C, sub-paragraph ninety-eight, and then he was left standing just a little outside of his own body, entirely unaware of the world around him. 
By the time his unsuspecting brain had finally accepted the idea that just occurred to him he came back to himself to realize the door was shut, Izuna was nowhere in sight, and Tobirama was staring at him again with something like faint worry hanging between the creases of his brow. 
“Are you hot for me?” Madara demanded with every ounce of tack in his body - which was to say absolutely none. 
“I...beg your pardon?”
“You were watching me just like that while I was making my presentation during the meeting.”
“Failing to make your presentation,” Tobirama corrected him. 
And then he seemed to fall still in anticipation and Madara could only stare as the whole world crashed down around his ears. 
“You do it on purpose,” he breathed. “You make me angry on purpose because you like it! You fucker!”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Tobirama protested. His voice was steady enough to give the words credence and it would have been entirely believable if not for the sudden bright red color staining his ears.
Madara stomped a little closer to slam both hands down on the desk and shove his face right up to the other man. “Don’t fucking lie to me. You’re hot for this disaster, I can feel it. Every time I get louder you get hornier.”
Watching Tobirama’s eyes blow wide was satisfying but seeing him drop his face in to both hands with the mortification of getting caught was pure gold. Madara enjoyed it very smugly even as he raced to catch up with the true meaning behind his own discovery. In an effort not to flail his way through a moment he’d been dreaming of since the day his mother explained the concept of soulmates to him as a wee little preteen, he cast about for something else to say.
“The only thing I don’t get is what got you hot in the meeting of a fucking council meeting.”
“I like your confidence,” Tobirama’s voice admitted from behind pale fingers. “It’s competent. And attractive.” He could not have sounded more strained if the words had been tortured out of him. Madara chewed that over for a minute before deciding he liked it. This he could definitely work with. 
“Right. Well, I am going to get absolutely nothing done until I can think straight again so here’s what is going to happen. You want confidence? Good. Then you’re going to follow me home, you’re going to follow me in to my bedroom, and then you are going to follow every single order I give while you rail me in to the mattress. Are we in agreement?” 
He’d never seen Tobirama move so fast in his entire life. One second they were separated by the very solid wood of a sturdy desk and the next he was standing in a six foot shadow blinking at surprisingly delicate collarbones. He grinned to see the blush revealed now that Tobirama wasn’t hiding behind his hands. It had been far too long but it wouldn’t be too much longer. Madara freely gave in to the urge to cackle as he led his soulmate away to go work off a little energy before they could talk about this with level heads. 
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lavenderlucy · 3 years
Text
Untitled 4x9 AU part 2
The plot bunny in my mind isn’t quiet finished yet. Here’s the second part to my very first piece Untitled 4x9 AU (I’m terrible at coming up with titles). This one has more angst than the last, but I will be making up for it with a third and final part coming soon. Thanks for reading!
Part 1 is here
Caroline was surprised to see a police car in Tyler’s driveway when she arrived early that morning. After spending a sleepless night battling her conflicting emotions about the night before she decided to check on Tyler before she made her way back to the cellar. She assumed he had already run from Mystic Falls after his plan to take down Klaus had failed, but she hadn’t heard anything from him since before Hayley snapped her neck in the Grille. She parked her car and got out just as the front door to the Lockwood manor opened to reveal two of her mother’s deputies leaving the house with grim expressions on their faces.
“Officer Sanders?” Caroline questioned one of them, “what’s going on?” She couldn’t help the nervousness seeping through her tone. Last night’s massacre must have already been discovered. She wondered how the Sheriff’s department was going to cover this one up. A few “animal attacks” were one thing, but 12 dead and dismembered hybrids on the Mayor’s lawn were another.
“I’m sorry, Caroline. This will be public by tomorrow, but I can’t discuss an active investigation. Tyler is inside. He can tell you.” Officer Sanders and the other deputy walked passed her and made their way to their car.
Caroline was surprised that Tyler was still in Mystic Falls. She walked through the door to the manor, worry clouding her mind. If Klaus found out Tyler was still in town there would be nothing stopping him from coming over here and killing him. She heard the sound of a sigh, Tyler’s, coming from the sitting room. As she walked down the main hall and turned to enter the room she smelled liquor and tears. She could feel the heavy feeling of grief all around her. She found Tyler sitting on a sofa with his head in one hand and a tumbler of what looked like scotch in the other.
“Tyler?” She questioned as she moved towards him. He looked wrecked. His eyes were bloodshot. His shoulders slumped. Caroline vaguely wondered if Carol was home. She made her distaste at seeing her son drink while he was technically still underage clear.
“Tyler?” She tried again. Finally he looked up at her. The broken look on his face gnawed at her heart.
“Care...” he tried to continue but a pained sob left his lips instead. Caroline flashed forward and stopped just a few inches from him.
“Tyler I’m so sorry. I tried to stop him, but I was too late. They were dead by the time I got there. I’m so so sorry.” Caroline finally felt the grief she had been putting off for the 12 hybrids. The reality of what Klaus had done was setting in. Tears threatened to spill over. For Tyler and his friends and for the friendship that had been tentatively building between her and Klaus. There’s no way she could feel anything for the man that slaughtered his own pack so willingly she thought to herself. A lie, her mind told her, but now was not the time to dwell on that.
“What are you- you don’t know, do you?” Tyler’s voice interrupted her thoughts and brought her back to the present.
“Don’t know what?” Caroline questioned. Dread suddenly filled her.
“After Klaus murdered the others he came here and he...” Tyler trailed off and a look a pure rage took over his features.
“What did he do, Tyler?” She asked afraid of the answer.
“He killed her!” Tyler shouted, standing suddenly making Caroline stumble a few steps backward. “He killed my mom to get back at me. That sick fucker came here and drowned her in the fountain.” He swallowed the remainder of his drink, the crystal tumbler still clutched in his hand.
Tyler was seething. He never had great control over the beast inside him and it was evident in the way his wolf pressed against his skin now. His eyes were gold and veins trailed from his eyes down to his cheek bones.
“What?” Any color that Caroline had in her pale features left her suddenly. She felt as though her knees would not continue to support her.
“HE KILLED HER!” Tyler screamed. The glass in his hand was suddenly shattering into pieces against the wall behind Caroline.
“I’m so sorry, Tyler. I had no idea. I tried to stop it, but Hayley got to me before I could. That bitch snapped my neck. I told you this whole thing was a bad idea. I’m so s-“ Caroline started but Tyler interrupted her before she could finish.
“Seriously, Care? You told me so? My mother and my pack are fucking dead and that’s your response?” Tyler took a step towards Caroline, his eyes still golden and enraged.
“That’s n-not what I m-meant,” Caroline stammered. “I’m so sorry, Tyler. That’s not what I meant.” Her foot was firmly in her mouth. Her tendency to say the wrong thing reared it’s ugly head.
Tears spilled down her cheeks now. She reached for Tyler to wrap him in a hug, but he stepped away from her. Caroline felt the sting of rejection.
“You should leave. I have things to handle with the police and my mother’s,” Tyler cleared his throat, “my lawyers.” His wolf receded from his face and he now looked like it was taking all of his strength just to remain standing.
“Tyler, you shouldn’t be alone. Why didn’t you call me last night? I’m here for you. Let me help,” Caroline pleaded. She stayed where she was even though all she wanted to do was wrap Tyler in her arms and comfort him. Even though their relationship had been slowly falling apart in the past few weeks, or months if she was being honest, she still cared for the boy in front of her. The boy who was now an orphan.
“Just go, Caroline. I don’t need you. I need to find Hay-.” He stopped talking and his jaw clicked shut. He looked like hadn’t meant to mention the girl that betrayed him and his friends, who had snapped his supposed girlfriend’s neck.
“Hayley? You need to find Hayley?” Caroline’s voice became louder and full of anger. “That backstabbing bitch sold you and your pack out to Klaus. I found out last night right before she snapped my neck and left me on the floor of the bathroom in the Grille. I was trying to stop her and save you all, Tyler. Klaus wouldn’t have had an advantage had she not run to him and told him the whole plan. Maybe he wouldn’t have killed them if we tired to reason with him. He probably felt cornered so he lashed out.” Caroline knew mentioning Klaus right now was a terrible idea, but Tyler had to realize that Hayley betrayed him.
“So now you’re defending Klaus?” Tyler’s anger returned in full force. “That’s really nice, Caroline. You’re defending the bastard that killed my pack and my mother not even a full day ago.” Tyler’s eyes started to bleed gold.
“I’m not defending him! Hayley betrayed you. This whole mess is her fault! I saw Klaus last night and-“ She wasn’t able to finish her sentence before Tyler flashed in front of her, his face just inches from hers.
“You saw him last night?” His voice was quiet and accusatory. Caroline could feel his anger radiating from his body.
“Yes. I was looking for you,” she began evenly, hoping to calm him down. “I was worried about you. I found him out in the cellar. We only talked for a couple of minutes and then he left.”
“Let me guess, you batted your eyes and he let you go,” Tyler sneered. “Typical Caroline, flirting with monsters to make herself feel better.” The look he was giving her was one of pure disgust.
“No! I mean yes, he left without hurting me, but I didn’t bat anything at him, Tyler, and I certainly didn’t flirt with him!” Caroline was becoming annoyed. Tyler was grieving, but that wasn’t an excuse to speak to her that way.
Tyler and Caroline were silent for several long moments. Their annoyance with each other hung between them. Caroline’s thoughts drifted to Klaus without her permission. He had let her go last night. He could have killed her in a second with no effort and he had let her live. He had been so gentle when he pressed his lips to her mouth and cheek, like he was scared she might break. It was hard for Caroline to reconcile the broken man last night with the man who murdered Tyler’s mother just minutes after nearly kissing her. Klaus was a monster, yes, but weren’t they all? Hadn’t they all killed to protect themselves or their loved ones? Hell, hadn’t they all killed for no reason at all other than they lost control? How many times did Tyler expect he could provoke Klaus before he lashed out?
“Tyler...” Caroline didn’t know what to say to him. She wiped her tears from her face with the back of her hand and took a breath to ground herself.
“Go, Caroline. Just go. Please.” Tyler looked like he was going break down. Caroline had barely taken a half step toward him when his eyes flashed yellow and his fangs emerged from his gums.
“GO!” He shouted.
Caroline knew in that moment that they were over. He would rather look for the bitch that had sold out his pack and almost gotten him killed instead of be in the same room as her. She knew it was selfish to think this way when his grief was still fresh, but she didn’t care. Her fear that he had been cheating on her didn’t seem so far fetched after all. Their show at the pageant just a short while ago didn’t seem so much like a ruse now. Tyler clearly had feelings for Hayley if he still wanted to find her after all of this. She met his eyes and tried to convey something, anything to make him see she wasn’t the bad guy here. His glare was still full of rage so she turned and flashed out of the house.
Once she was in her car Caroline felt anger rush through her. How dare Tyler choose the girl that betrayed him and his friends over her? How dare he accuse her of flirting with Klaus? How dare he dismiss her? Caroline needed an outlet for her anger. She knew she would get nowhere with Tyler today so her mind settled on Klaus. How dare Klaus make her care for him despite everything that he is and then murder his hybrids? How dare he give her jewelry and romantic drawings and then drown Tyler’s mother? Caroline’s anger quickly turned to rage and she sped out of Tyler’s driveway toward the Mikaelson mansion.
Her car was barely in park before she whipped open her door and stalked up to Klaus’s front door, her blonde curls bouncing with each step.
“Klaus!” She shouted while banging her fist on the door. After a minute with no answer she banged louder. “Come out here you unbelievable bastard!” She was about to start yelling louder when the door was suddenly ripped open and an enraged looking Klaus stood in the doorway, eyes flashing gold. The sleeves of his dark gray henley were pushed up to his elbows and Caroline could see small flecks of paint on his hands. Klaus opened his mouth to growl something at her, but Caroline beat him to it.
“How could you? How could you be such a monster?” She shouted, her hands shaking with rage, as she took a step up towards him.
Klaus’s eyes narrowed and he stepped out of the doorway to meet her on the top step of his porch.
“How could I?” He gritted out between clenched teeth. “How could I kill the mutts that Lockwood and his little friend unsired and turned against me? HOW COULD I?” He raised his voice louder until he was shouting at Caroline.
Caroline opened her mouth to speak again, but this time Klaus interrupted her.
“Or are you talking about his mother? She was a fighter you know. She fought until her very last second, desperate for air.” He taunted with a wicked smirk on his lips, eyes sharp. Caroline gasped, shocked at the way he spoke so casually about killing Carol.
“He took EVERYTHING from me,” Klaus spat. “It’s only fair I finally take something from him. You lot have been trying to kill me since I returned to this infernal town and now you’re shocked that I exacted my revenge. You called me a monster, love. This is what monsters do.”
“Carol was innocent! She didn’t deserve to be a part of your twisted game! God, I don’t know why I ever gave you even a second of my time. You’re clearly not worth it!” Caroline shouted back at him. Had she been in a more rational state of mind she would have been almost afraid to shout at the man who just murdered 13 people, but her heightened emotions clouded her judgement.
Klaus’s features turned darker and before Caroline could blink he pulled her across the threshold by her upper arms and slammed her against the wall of his lavish foyer, the plaster cracking around her. The breath left Caroline’s lungs and her eyes widened as she took in his golden eyes and double fangs. She realized how stupid she had been to come here and pick a fight with Klaus. She let out a pained cry as she felt her ribs and spine protest. She was pretty sure something was fractured at the very least. Klaus grip loosened infinitesimally until he saw tears form in her blue eyes, threatening to spill over her cheeks.
Klaus removed his hands from Caroline’s arms and took several steps back from her. Something that looked almost like regret for his rough treatment of her flashed across his face. Caroline slid slightly down the wall before she locked her knees and caught herself. There was no way she was going to give Klaus the satisfaction of seeing her fall.
A moment passed and Klaus slowly moved forward with a grace that only came with age until he was close enough to touch her. He slowly lifted his hands so he didn’t frighten her and once more gripped her upper arms. Instead of bruising his touch was soft yet firm. He helped Caroline to stand up straight and held her there while her bones fused themselves back together. A single tear escaped and made its way down her face. Before it could reach her jaw Klaus moved one hand to cradle the side her face and brushed the tear away with his thumb. Caroline moved her free arm and grasped Klaus’s wrist with hesitant fingers. She hadn’t meant to touch him, but her body acted on its own accord. She could feel his slow pulse and his warm skin beneath her fingers. She could smell the blood running through his veins. The two of them stood there unmoving and staring at each other for several long minutes. Regret clouded Klaus’s face. Caroline wondered how many times in his long life he’d ever been sorry for anything he’d done.
“Not many,” Klaus answered softly, “but I find myself making exceptions for you, Caroline.”
Caroline realized she’d spoken out loud and blushed slightly. Klaus moved his thumb over the light pink on her cheek, looking as though he was fascinated by the color. She knew she shouldn’t be so comfortable in Klaus’s embrace, especially after she had seen Tyler’s grief stricken face earlier. She shouldn’t be so comfortable with a murderer’s touch, but she couldn’t bring herself to move. Something in Klaus’s touch ignited something in her that she had never felt before. A feeling of completeness. A feeling that someone truly cared for her. A feeling that she was finally enough.
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tmvoldemort · 3 years
Note
Mythology - Foretold by the gods
Arrange Marriage prompts.
@the--variant
The chilled northern winds blasted Lord Voldemort in the face. He usually did not mind the cold. Nor how the sun chariot rarely touched his realm. All his subjects and beasts that roam the rocky forest, preferred it. Even that which grew and was harvest did not need much to thrive.
Yet his subjects had watched him for some time. They hovered on the threshold of the towers room. Gathering together like a living shadow.
Lord Voldemort, just as aware of them even with his eyes shut. He stood overlooking his vase fortress from a balcony. The castle build right into the mountain. Taking the full blast of icy breeze.
His dark court debating, silently among themselves, who would breach his deep thoughts. Fearful of his bad mood. Or being an outlet for that bad news the High Priest had given him.
Lord Voldemort scowled still thinking about it.
How dare the gods of light command his future! And to pair him with some girl. A maiden, Voldemort assumed to be from outside his own realm.
In the vision he had seen her. Her clothing and demeanor was not that of his cursed lot. She did not wear the spun spider silks. Nor have the dark touch of magic about her. But that was all he knew.
The vision did not provide a name or even a rank among her people. She could have been a slave or servant for all he knew.
"That would please them." Voldemort muttered.
His eyes fluttered open. Finding them chapped from the cold.
Had it not been him who defiled the gods temples? Brought the plague of Dementors to their mortals kingdom? Spat in the waters of life and became immortal himself?
Voldemort slowly turned to his servants. They bowed waiting for his orders. For a moment he had none.
The Gods can not commanded me! Voldemort reassured himself.
When an idea popped into his head.
"Fetch me my Thestral's and carriage."
He would travel now. Find this maiden, where ever she maybe. Learn for himself why her gods mocked them both.
And then what? Voldemort asked himself. By then he was at the end of the stairwell. Already pulling on a traveling cloak, his fingers working the clasps.
He did not answer himself. Only when he learn more of this girl would he know his future actions.
His Thestral's and couch were already waiting for him in the courtyard. Voldemort hopped onto the drivers seat and took the reigns. Riding off towards the south, where the sky was clearer and the temperature warmer. Already feeling the watchful eyes of the Gods on him.
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jadekitty777 · 3 years
Text
On Your Six, Chapter 2
And thus we come to another day, another chapter.
Day 2: Stealing Hoodies for @taiqrowweek
Rating: T for this chapter, M for overall
Words: 3k
Summary: Qrow was what most of society would call a small-town criminal. But to those oppressed, he hoped only to be a healer. In an effort to make a change in the world, he moves from kingdom to kingdom, searching for branded omegas in need. His goal? To turn the derogatory words the reformatories forced them to bear on their skin into works of art.
Then one day, his past catches up to him in the form of Taiyang, his former best friend, with a brand of his own stained onto his skin and a plea for help in his eyes. Qrow has no choice but to answer, even if it means he’d have to face his mistakes once and for all.
[An ABO-style universe in a modern-day style Remnant. No Grimm, because people are the real monsters in this one]
Ao3 Link: On Your Toes
~
Tai rolled in Sunday with a brisk breeze and a hint of last night’s rain following him. The awkward timidness he’d had, had evaporated quicker than the puddles outside, burned away into steely determination as he got right down to business. “Alright, so, how do you want me?”
Qrow nodded to his bed, the recliner having been pushed up alongside it. His kit was sitting on the nightstand. “Take off your shirt and lie down.”
“Gee, at least buy me dinner first.”
He supposed he walked right into that one.
“Hah. Let’s see if you have any jokes left after we pass the fourth hour.” He strode over to his chair, fetching a roll of paper towels on his way. “I told you we’d be at this for a while. Trust me, you’ll be glad to be in a more comfortable position.”
Qrow had calculated it. He’d have six sessions per letter. At eight to ten hours per session, he’d have a range of 48 to 60 hours per design. It seemed like a lot of time, but drawing on paper wasn’t quite the same as drawing on people. Paper didn’t need potty breaks, for example, and it tended to stay stationary the entire time. Add on to the fact this was easily the biggest project he’d ever undertaken, and he knew he was going to need every second he could get.
At least I won’t be enduring it alone, he thought as he watched Tai kick off his shoes and shirt and climb onto the bed. Qrow poured the alcohol onto one of the paper towels, and as he dabbed at the other’s skin, he noticed the face the other man was making. “Sorry, guess it’s a little strong.”
“It’s not that.” Tai said, rubbing his nose. “Uh, not to be your maid or anything but, you really need to wash your sheets.”
For a split second, Qrow was offended. Then the realization hit. “Oh. You’re smelling the ink.” He indicated the row of bottles organized in the case. The only one he’d need today, the black, was sitting next to his rotary machine. “I mix it with my own pheromones. It helps neutralize the stench.”
The omega reached for the little bottle, giving it a whiff. His eyebrows shot up and suddenly, he was staring at it like it held the meaning of life. “That’s… incredible. But won’t that give me away?”
“Not when your RO can’t smell her way out of a canteen.” They were all betas. Being the neutral dynamic meant there was no risk of ‘going soft’ on their parolee like an omega might, nor get over-protective like an alpha absolutely would. But it also meant that after Qrow finished relining the tattoos, the dramatic shift to Tai’s scent would be almost undetectable. “And if she does notice, just tell her you’re trying out a new perfume.”
“That smells like matchsticks and blueberries?”
“You’ll be fine. You’re good at improvising.”
As Tai eased himself back down, he finished sanitizing his back, then moved on to getting himself ready. He double-checked the machine, made sure the parts were in place and the wire running back to the outlet was untangled and slack. Taped the paper copy of the design over the edge of his nightstand and uncapped the ink bottle. “So, this is how this works.” Qrow said as he pulled on his gloves, “You need to be as still as possible. We’re gonna have a five-minute break every hour, give you a chance stretch and move around. We’ll stop a bit longer half way in or so to eat. But if you need me to stop for any other reason just let me know. And uh, fair warning – when I start tattooing over the letter itself, it’s gonna hurt like a bitch.”
Tai nodded. “Got it.”
“Okay.” He dipped the needle and turned on the pen, the quiet buzzing filling the room. “Here we go.”
The moment needle met skin, he felt muscle tense under his hand. Spotted the way Tai’s toes curled in his socks and his face screwed shut. Qrow continued on slowly as he looped one line from the top of the S and connected it to down the middle, then did it again from the bottom part of the S. By the time the S had turned into an 8, the omega had relaxed again, sighing softly. He took that as a sign to continue and started coloring in the new side.
Hour one passed in complete silence.
~
“So, how’s it looking?” Tai asked, swiveling his head around. If he tried any harder, he might become an owl.
Qrow watched him from the stove. “Most of the line art on the top is finished.” He turned on the burners for the kettle and pot of water. “Should be fine to get the rest done in a few hours.”
“I can’t believe how fast it’s going.”
“Yeah well, this is the easy part.” He opened the pantry, eyeing over the options. “Wait until we get to coloring. I have to switch between needles for shading and clean between them.”
There was a dragging noise as one of the dining room chairs was pulled back. “I’m sorry it’s so much work. We don’t have to do all that, if you don’t want.”
Qrow was grateful only his shelves could see his scowl. He breathed out slow, pulled down the pork-flavored ramen packets, saying casually as he went back to the stove, “I mean if you’re too scared to keep going…”
“I didn’t say that! I’m just trying to be nice.” Tai grumbled the last past.
I don’t need you to be nice to me! Frustration welled in him, but he forced it back down. Getting angry wasn’t going to help. Even if this extremely complacent, easily guilted Tai made him want to go out and burn down every Gods’ damned reformatory there was. “Forget about it. I’m too much of a perfectionist to half-ass my work anyways.” He tried to brush off. But now Tai had that kicked puppy look that told him he was feeling bad, which only made Qrow feel bad in turn, so he deflected instead, “I mean, unless it’s too much for you. You’ve been quiet. Is it hurting that bad?”
“Oh, no it’s fine. I, uh,” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Didn’t want to distract you.”
“You won’t.” He cracked the bags in half twice, tearing open the pack. “And it helps pass the time.” He dropped the ramen noodlesinto the water that was just starting to bubble and got the mugs down for tea, absolutely refusing to look at the other lest he read all over his face just how much he missed talking to him.
“Well… besides illegal tattooing in the tiniest apartment known to man on the shady side of town, what else have you been up to?”
The kettle was picked up just as it began to whistle. Like the cups filling with water, Qrow opened his mouth and let the words flow out just as easy.
~
As evening approached, another storm blew in. Rain drops smattered against the window every time the wind picked up, drowning out the noise of his pen. Qrow had rearranged his furniture, putting the recliner and nightstand in opposite positions so he could work on the lower half of the design in the 8. His focus was completely on the coastline coming to life over tanned skin.
“Remember that time we snuck out your window so we could put all those plastic rats on Professor Port’s porch for April Fool’s Day?”
Well, maybe not completely.
Qrow snickered. They had camped out in the bushes until dawn, just so they could take the TA’s picture when he came out to get his morning paper. “His face was priceless.”
“Not sure the punishment was worth it though.” Tai bemoaned.
“It was only a week’s detention.”
“For you. I got three month’s grounding on top of it.”
He reinked his pen. “Which you immediately broke by coming to my house every day.”
Tai took the brief pause as a chance to scratch his nose. “I never would have got caught if dad didn’t go home early that one time.”
“Ugh, don’t remind me. My ears are still ringing from that lecture.” He flipped back on the pen and continued working on the islands that would split the sea from the sky.
The omega cleared his throat, deepening his voice just enough it was an almost disturbingly perfect imitation of his father, “‘If you don’t want to land yourself into juvie, then you’ll stop leading my son into a life of delinquency.’”
Qrow grinned, continuing for him and really hamming it up, “’Don’t you know my delicate boy’s future depends on finding a proper and upstanding alpha?’”
“He didn’t say delicate.” But Tai was laughing with him.
“Might as well have.” It wouldn’t have been too off-base for the Xiao Longs. They’d always been the traditional, overbearing types, trying to jumpstart every little bit of their only son’s future in every possible avenue. When they’d been young, it always seemed like Tai was going to some lesson or appointment. Swimming. Woodworking. Jeet Kune Do. It had been so excessive it had given his own mother ideas – but at least she let Raven and him choose what they wanted to learn.
After looking through the primordial alpha courses, Raven had chosen fencing.
Qrow had wanted to go with her but there was nothing like that in the omega pamphlets he’d been given. In the end, he kicked his feet all the way to his first few art lessons.
His dad had been pretty ticked off they’d wasted the money when, a few years later, puberty had Qrow shooting up past six feet and presenting as an alpha.
But that was nothing compared to the nuclear war that went off when, just shortly after his fourteen birthday, the Xiao Longs discovered Tai was an omega. The lessons stopped and the strict rules started. No going out past seven o’ clock. No cursing. No dating. No kissing. No sex. And especially, no alphas in the house. Ever.
By the time Tai was fifteen, he’d already broken every single one of them.
Qrow, who hadn’t exactly been an angel himself, thought it was hilarious and maybe encouraged him a bit more than he should have. But honestly, what did anyone expect of either of them? After being caged in like a defenseless pup, he was finally allowed break free and be a little reckless. Meanwhile, Tai refused to be shoved into that same cage, smashing through the doors all on his own. They’d been quite a pair, back in the day.
Nostalgia hit him in a wave. “How are your folks doing these days?”
“They’re fine. Dad’s started a new garden. And Mom’s been talking about renovating the old cabin house we used to vacation at. Said it would be a good place for the girls to enjoy. I was gonna help but…” Tai trailed off, his eyes glazing over a bit. “They wrote to me a few times while I’d been…. yanno.”
Something bitter built in his chest. A long-forgotten fury that had weighed on him when his mother had likewise been ripped from their family to stay at a reformatory and the only comforts he’d got was from the Xiao Longs reassuring him she’d come back as a ‘better omega’. “I’m certain they were just bursting with encouragement and support.”
“Definitely isn’t winning any motivational speech awards.” He joked humorlessly.
There was a quiet lull. Qrow took it as a chance to re-ink and stretch out the crick stiffening his fingers.
As he lowered the needle once more, Tai spoke up, hesitant. “What about you? Heard from your family at all?”
He frowned, knowing there was only one of those two people he actually cared to hear about. He indulged him regardless. “Well, you know my old man. Probably still doesn’t even know I’m gone.” He tapped his pen down, drawing the m-shapes that were meant to be a couple of gulls flying away in the sky. “As for Raven, haven’t seen her for years. Not sure she could find me.” When he paused to survey his work, he couldn’t help but think that the shapes really could have been any birds. “Even if she could, doubt she’d want to.”
The kicked puppy look was back. “I’m sorry.”
“Not your fault.” Qrow lied, as if the last argument he and Raven ever had wasn’t entirely about Taiyang. But he didn’t need to know about that.
~
“You left? Raven you can’t leave!”
“Don’t growl at me. And anyways, what’s the problem?”
“The problem is Tai’s your mate. You guys have a daughter!”
“And that means I’m bound to him for life? We made a mistake! We were dumb kids. It happens.”
“So you just pack up your shit and tell him ‘good fucking luck’? He loves you! How can you act like that doesn’t matter?”
“…”
“Well?!”
“Really, little brother?”
“Wh-”
“If you want to go and play house with him, be my guest. But don’t project your feelings onto me. This is my life. My choice.”
“…Yeah. Yeah, I guess throwing people out of your life is a fucking choice. Just don’t be surprised when you get the same in return.”
“Are you seriously-”
“Get out. And until you get your head out of your ass, don’t bother coming back!”
~
Qrow taped down the bandage over Tai’s back, the antibiotic cream he’d spread along the new tattoo squishing against the adhesive. He ran through the aftercare steps almost subconsciously. “Keep this on until you go to bed. When you do take it off, wash it with warm water and soap. Do that a few times a day tomorrow and the next day too. If anything seems wrong, just call me.”
“Got it.” Tai reached for his shirt. At least he’d had the foresight to bring a button up. As he pulled it on, he gave Qrow a crooked little smile that made him look adorably boyish. “Same time next week then?”
“Uh, yeah.” He slipped off the bed, making a great show of looking for the other’s shoes. His cheeks felt a little less hot by the time he was returning to the bedside with them. “We’ll have to work on the U next. I’ll keep sending you designs, but a little direction would help.”
Tai slipped into his shoes, getting to his feet. “I don’t really have the eye for this kind of stuff. Just pick something easy.”
“Feel like I’m having a case of déjà vu here.” Qrow huffed, tapping a finger to the center of Tai’s chest. “This is your body Tai, not mine. So could you please put just a mite bit more effort into something you’re gonna have to wear the rest of your life?”
The other’s eyes widened before he looked away. He made an aborted motion towards his neck, fell short, and worried the corner edge of his collar between his fingers. “Could you do words?”
“Yeah.” He replied haltingly, taken aback by the sudden shift. “I’ll probably want to craft stencils to keep the script nice though – and no, it’s not hard.”
Tai nodded, another one of those not-quite smiles on his face. “Then I think I do know what I want for this one. I’ll send you some pictures later tonight.”
“Well… good! See was that so hard?”
“Immensely.” He answered, laying it on thick as honey.
Qrow jabbed him in the shoulder. “Don’t oversell it prima donna. You should start heading home, unless you’re planning on doing a rendition of Singing in the Rain out there.”
Tai spared a look to the window. “It’s really coming down out there, isn’t it?” The sky had darkened with the setting sun, making the already heavy clouds appear thick and ominous. Rain battered against his window at a continuous rate. The minute the omega left the complex, he was going to be soaked. “Think this’ll be okay?” He waved vaguely to his left shoulder where the tattoo began on the other side of.
“Mm, probably. But I guess a little extra cover wouldn’t hurt.” He crossed over to his little box of a closet, rummaging through the sparse selection. “This’ll work. It’s a bit oversized for me, so it should be perfect for you. Here.”
He snapped the black hoodie off its hanger, tossing it. Tai caught it. “You’re sure?”
“What are you gonna do to it? Dye it pink?”
“Well now that’s a thought. It’d match your eyes.”
“My eyes aren’t pink!”
Tai’s laughter was muffled in fabric as he gingerly slipped the hoodie on, being as mindful as possible of his back. By the time his head popped back out, his hair was all mussed up.
It was unfairly cute and Qrow tried very hard not to think about it as he walked him to the door.
Tai stepped into the hall, then paused, turning back to him. He reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Hey uh, thank you. For all this. You have no idea how much this means to me.”
Qrow was pretty sure the touch was electric, because he was suddenly paralyzed. How he even got his jaw to work was a miracle in and of itself. “Don’t mention it.”
The omega hesitated, as if he wanted to argue, but only said, “Sure. I’ll see you soon Qrow.”
He wasn’t sure how long he stood there, but it was long after Tai had left the hall that he finally found the strength to close the door, slumping against the wood with a pitiful groan.
He thought he was over this. He should be over this. He wasn’t a lovesick teen anymore and this wasn’t a romantic comedy where after a bunch of wild, misleading antics, everything came together in the end. He’d lost his chance – twice over apparently. It was useless to try now.
So why did his stupid, pathetic heart still yearn?
“Come on Qrow.” He knocked his head against the door, hoping to rattle some sense into himself. “You did this for six years. You can do it again for six months.”
As he trod his way back to his bed, falling into it only to realize it smelt like Tai and would continue to every Sunday for weeks, he burrowed his head in his pillow and screamed.
Six was becoming a very unlucky number for him.
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ecto-american · 4 years
Text
If Found Please Return to Danny Phantom
Phic Phight Oneshot for @imperfection-at-itsfinest: When Jack manages to get his hands on Danny Phantom's ghost hunting logbook, an investigation reveals some information about ghosts and the infamous specter himself that a scientific study would never cover.
Read on FFN and AO3
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It would be wrong of him to read it. 
Jack kept staring at the book in his hands. It resembled a diary, the front design being colorless but a pressed design. The moon with stars, with no words, and the diary itself felt unusually thin. There was no lock, as if it was almost inviting him to just read it. Jack had, in fact, already opened to the first page, and the first words greeted him. In a standard font read: If Found, Please Return to: and the name scrawled, in surprisingly tidy handwriting, was the name Danny Phantom.
What an absolute find. It was pure dumb luck. He had seen Phantom drop it, but Jack had went looking for it in hopes that the ghost teen had dropped one of the stolen Fenton gadgets. Only to recover...this book that he had taken home and into the privacy of his lab for study.
The idea of Phantom keeping a diary was kinda funny. He never struck Jack as the type to write down his deepest darkest secrets or teenage embarrassments in a book. That would imply that the ghost had some kind of emotions. They didn’t. They were blobs of ectoplasmic energy.
So it should be okay for him to read, right? Why was he so hesitant? Well...it was an invasion of privacy. But it was fine. Phantom dropped it in the park. Phantom was a menace to society. There was likely evidence in this journal that could explain all of the ghost boy’s terrible deeds, that could prove that he truly was evil. This diary could change everything.
...Jack had children though, and he knew both were avidly creative. Scrapbooking, drawing, painting, writing. They were stress outlets for his girls, and he wouldn’t ever dare dream of invading their privacy like that. So he couldn’t. He shouldn’t. Phantom deserved privacy, right?
“Jack? Are you coming to dinner?” Maddie’s voice snapped him from his thought process. She hadn’t made a noise as she came down the stairs. But Maddie was a much better stealth hunter than him.
“Yes, yes! Sorry, I was distracted,” Jack apologized. He set the book down on the table. Maddie rose an eyebrow at him.
“Did you get a new ectobiology book?” she asked. His eyes glanced to the book, and he shook his head no. Maddie came over to him, studying the book cover. Of course, it didn’t resemble any of the scientific texts that they owned. 
“I don’t know how to explain it…” Jack said slowly. He held it out to her. Maddie accepted it.
“This looks like it belongs to the kids,” she stated. She opened the first page, and Jack saw her eyes widen. Her breath hitched, and she looked up to him “Jack...where did you...get this?”
“He dropped it during a fight,” he replied. “I thought it was Fenton tech, but…”
Her eyes sparkled, and she shut the book. A wide grin had appeared, and she threw her arms around her husband.
“Oh Jack! This could teach us so much! If this really is a journal or some kind of diary, then he may have recorded motivations! Thoughts! We can really get into how Phantom thinks and a raw, honest, firsthand account from Phantom himself! This changes everything!”
She was right. She was absolutely right, and he hugged her back. They were scientists first and foremost, and this journal could fill in so many missing blanks about ghosts. It was a starting off point. Jack’s mind raced with all the things they could possibly learn. Just from a simple peek of the book. That was worth more than the invasion of privacy of a ghost that caused so much havoc, destruction and pain. 
“We should look at it right now!” he exclaimed. Maddie pulled away with a small frown.
“After dinner,” she reminded him. “I finally got everybody corralled upstairs for a family dinner. It’s nearly impossible to get either of the girls at the same time.”
“Oh, right!” Jack nearly slapped his forehead. Yes, they were scientists first and foremost, but before even that, they were Mom and Dad. “First thing after dinner.”
“First thing after dinner,” she agreed with a smile. 
Upstairs, he saw that Jazz was already serving herself. Chicken, mashed potatoes and peas. His youngest was pouring iced tea into glasses for everybody. 
“Hey Ghost-kateers!” Jack greeted cheerfully with a grin. Both kids groaned in embarrassment. Perfect. 
“Daaad!” his youngest complained, a whine hitching as she put the pitcher of ice tea back. “I told you, if I’m going to be some kind of ye olde soldier type, I wanna be a knight, like at the renaissance fair.” 
“Ah, but if you’re a ghost-kateer, you can get an anti-ghost musket!” Jack teased. As he walked past her to get his own food, he playfully ruffled her pixie-cut hair. She waved his hand away. 
“But as a ghost knight, I can get a cool sword!” she protested. Jack shook his head in fake disappointment. 
“Never bring to a ghost sword to a ghost musket fight, baby boo,” her dad replied.
“Can’t shoot what you can’t see!” she shot back with a grin. Jack had to hand it to her, and he just chuckled. 
“Can we please have a ghost free dinner?” Jazz scowled. 
“Yes, yes, let’s save ghosts for after dinner,” Maddie agreed. Jazz shot her a grateful look, and Jack focused on getting his serving of dinner from the stove. His youngest pushed her sleeves up, exhaling. Jack stole a look at her and frowned. She had some sweat collected on her forehead.
“Honey if you're hot, you can just take your sweatshirt off,” he told her. She shook her head no.
“No, I'm fine,” she insisted. Jack was skeptical.
“You sure?” he asked. 
“Mhm!” 
Jack shrugged a bit. She was always insisting on wearing a hoodie, no matter the weather. If she got hot enough, she’d take it off. No need to force it. He got his food and took his seat.
“How's school going?” Maddie questioned. Jazz lit up a bit, and her sister flinched. She raised a suspicious eyebrow at her youngest.
“I managed to get a B on my chemistry test,” the youngest spoke up with a forced smile.
“That’s excellent!” Maddie’s demeanor shifted as she smiled warmly. “Keep it up!” 
“Yeah!” The youngest seemed to visibly relax. “Sam’s been helping me study.”
“That’s good, I always studied better when V-man or your mom helped me,” Jack nodded at her as he cut up his chicken. 
“Oh it’s true, I used to help your father study for all of our shared classes,” Maddie confirmed. “Otherwise he’d get so distracted.”
“Yeah, Sam just explains it super well,” their daughter agreed. “Tucker’s been going over math with me a bit, which helps some.”
“Well if you need a tutor, just let us know, and we’ll help you arrange one,” Maddie smiled. “What about you, Jazz?”
“Pretty good,” she replied. “Mr. Lancer asked if I wanted to be his TA this summer, which I really do. It’ll look good on a college application, and I might even get paid!”
“Have you been narrowing down where you might wanna go?” Jack asked. Jazz eagerly nodded.
“Yeah! Oxford is my number one choice, but I also would love to go to Yale or Stanford. I’ve been talking with the college counselor about what else might look good on an application for them that I can do over the summer. I wrote them down in my planner notebook earlier-”
“Hey, that kinda reminds me,” her sister interrupted. “Have you guys seen one of my notebooks? I think I lost it,” she asked them. Jack stared at her. The reminder of the notebook he actually had found. Maddie seemed unbothered by the question. This wasn’t unusual, for the parents to have to play “where’s my stuff?” with the kids. 
“What notebook?” Jazz asked hesitantly. 
“My important one,” came the reply. Jazz frowned lightly. 
“Sorry, princess, haven’t seen any notebooks laying around,” Jack replied. He saw the briefest of a cringe cross his youngest’s features. “Did you leave it at school?” Her shoulders slumped.
“I don’t think so?” she said hesitantly. “I’ll have to check tomorrow. I was so sure I had it earlier…” Her voice trailed off before she forced a smile. “If you see it, let me know!” She picked up a forkful of chicken, only to freeze. The clattering made Jack glance up curiously as she was turning her attention to Maddie. “Can I be excused? I have some homework to get done.” 
Maddie let out a soft sigh. So much for family dinner.
“Of course, just make sure you come back down before you go to bed to get your chores done,” Maddie nodded at her. The young Fenton snapped to her feet with a thanks, fully abandoning her dinner as she went to the stairs. Jazz stared after her sister, craning her neck to track her movements before hurriedly shoveling more mashed potatoes in her mouth.
“Uh, I’m not that hungry, and I totally forgot to do this online assignment,” Jazz spoke, standing up, taking hers and her sister’s plate. She was already walking away before either parent could truly give permission. “I’ll put our plates up and clean up in a bit!”
“A-alright?” Jack hesitated, watching his other child put the plates on the counter before rushing up as well. Another child down. They seemed to grow up so fast. 
“Least they’re doing homework,” Maddie sighed lightly, shaking her head before taking a drink of her tea. “Oh well. Might as well take their lead and eat in the lab?” 
“Please,” Jack agreed. He stood up, taking his plate. “I’m dying to see what Phantom has to say.”
January 10
Skulker: 1; captured
Ectopuss: 1; captured
Box Ghost: 8; captured
Ember: Fought; got away
Fenton Thermos: half-full
Fenton Fisher: untangled
January 11
Vultures: 1; got away
Cujo: 1; played fetch and he went back to the GZ
Fenton Thermos: Full
Ghost Bazooka: overheated and doesn’t shoot anymore, take apart and fix it
January 12
Skulker: 2; got away
Box Ghost: 3; captured
Sidney: 2; got away
Fenton Fisher: tangled, untangle asap
January 13
Skulker: 1; captured
Box Ghost: 4; got away
Fenton Thermos: damaged, won’t suck up ghosts
I met a new ghost today named Desiree. She got away, but it allowed me to discover a new ghost power. Ghost ray.
Maddie furrowed her brow as she studied the words. She stood at the table, her dinner half-forgotten as she thought on the words.
“It sounds like a record,” Jack mused, and he ate another spoonful of peas. Maddie nodded in agreement.
“I think we found Phantom’s logbook,” she agreed. “I’m assuming these are the ghosts he’s fought. And he seems to be recording his powers too. This is huge, we can match up what we know about his powers and what he’s claiming.”
“And he’s recording the status of our equipment.” Jack frowned. “Why would he care?”
“Yeah, he made note that he was going to fix the Fenton Bazooka too,” Maddie pointed out. The scientist flipped through the pages, only to stop at a page, staring curiously. Maddie laid the journal on the table, pressing the spine so that the pages stayed open. She read the page aloud to Jack.
December 19
I hate my life. I hate this existence. I look in the mirror and wonder why it has to be this way. Why am I the one cursed to be this freak? Why is everything about me and my body wrong? For once, I wish something about me was normal, that somebody about me could be right. If Desiree wasn’t such an unreliable asshole with wishes, I’d give everything I have to wish that life could, for once, allow me to be a normal teenage boy. 
Jack listened to her in a stumped silence. This couldn’t have been a pre-death thought process of a moody teenager. It was written too recently, and the words hit a sorrowful chord to him. He didn’t intend to, but he quickly began to feel sorry for Phantom. He was very young. It couldn’t have been easy to lose everything at that age. His daughter was his age. Jack cleared his throat.
“It’s not just a log then?” Jack questioned. Maddie shook her head, flipping the pages back.
“No, I think it’s a mix. There’s still records of ghosts and FentonWorks equipment,” she replied. Using a leg, she pulled a wheeled chair to her to sit in. She leaned back, and she pulled the journal to her. After a moment of flipping through and scanning pages, she settled on a page about a third of the way through. “It seems like this is when he began to record things other than just ghosts.”
“What’s it say?” Jack wondered. Maddie read aloud the next few entries as Jack silently continued to eat. 
April 4
I only fought this shitty panther today, and he still got away. I’m such a fucking idiot. I can’t believe he got away. I was too slow. All I do is fuck up. There’s ghostly activity happening around the school, and I just can’t figure it out. I feel like I can’t stop them anymore. I don’t know what’s going on, why I suddenly suck so much. I honestly probably just always sucked, and now it’s starting to hit me. [scribbles] and [scribbles] were trying to make me feel better, but I fucked up. It was only one ghost today, and I couldn’t catch them. It destroyed an entire store, and it’s my fault.
April 8
No ghosts today, surprisingly. But [scribbles] has been acting weird lately. The other day she poked and prodded me at dinner. No clue what that’s about. She also tried to give me this speech that I can talk to her about anything, and that she’d love me no matter what. That makes me think she found my binder. I’m honestly kinda freaking out. I knew I shouldn’t have left it out like that. She’s such a nosy know it all.
“Phantom must keep more records than just this,” Maddie lightly mused. “He has an entire binder full of information that somebody discovered.”
“Maybe on other ghosts?” Jack theorized. “He’s recording his fights, he must be also recording information about them.” Maddie’s eyes lit up.
“That makes so much sense,” she agreed. “He probably keeps so many kinds of things written down and logged. I wonder where he’s keeping it? Obviously paper, which is a bit odd. I figured a teenager would move to the digital age…” Maddie paused.
“Maybe he’s older than we think he is?” Jack suggested. “He could have died fifty years ago, and just be more comfortable with writing things down.”
“Oh, that’s true,” Maddie mused. She put down the notebook to take a long sip of her drink. Jack picked it up to observe the page she read.
“Phantom has neat handwriting,” he noted. “He’s not fighting ghosts when he writes these.” Jack’s eyes scanned the words. “...I wonder who he’s scribbled out.”
“Allies?” Maddie shrugged. “He probably went back and blacked out some of the names. Privacy. Especially if this isn’t the first time he’s lost this.”
It made the most logical sense. Jack skipped the purely log entries to one that had more written, and he read it aloud to his wife.
April 10
She was feeding on us. Spectra, the Casper High “psychologist” was feeding on emotions, like some kind of emotional vampire but she’s a ghost. It’s so scary. I saw her do it. She asked [scribbles] and [scribbles] about their lives. What made them unhappy, and why. And when they left, I saw her absorb? I guess how I’d describe it? She absorbed the energy into her skin and it just seemed to instantly revive her, and it made her happy. When she did it to me, I could just look in her eyes and know that she enjoyed every minute of my misery. I managed to stop her, with [scribbles] helping me. It was weird. She didn’t seem afraid of me. I don’t know why. 
Spectra: 2; captured
“Ghosts can feed off of energy!” Maddie exclaimed. “Human energy! We always suspected it, but this is confirming something!” Jack glanced up at her excitedly. It was the first real, true ghostly discovery that Phantom was revealing to them. 
April 13
All I do is fuck up lately. Because of me, this ghost dog just absolutely has been causing havoc on this girl’s life. She blames me. And I don’t blame her. I ruined her entire life. She lost her house because of me. I didn’t mean to. I tried to stop the dog, but he just won’t respond to anything I say. I can’t capture him. I’ve been trying. I’ve been just calling the dog Cujo. After the Stephen King book, because damn is this dog giving me one fucking nightmare of a time.
Cujo: 3, got away
April 16
[scribbles] kissed me. It was to force me to change back, and it worked, but she kissed me. It was great. She smelled like lavender. I don’t think my heart’s ever beaten so fast. Afterwards she clarified to me that it was just a fake-out make-out. It didn’t feel like it. I don’t want it to be. But she’s my best friend, and I can’t lose her. So I agreed, and when I came home I cried. My dad caught me, and I pretended it was just girl problems, even though that excuse made me feel even worse. He got me some ice cream, and we watched Star Trek together. It didn’t really help that much, if I’m being honest. 
Anyway, apparently Cujo’s trained. He knows his commands. [scribbles] thinks it’s because he was a guard dog when he was alive for Axion Labs. For a guard dog, he’s such a playful puppy though, he loves his squeaky toy. And [scribbles] became a hunter specifically to kick my ass. It’s my lucky month. But I deserve it. Will there ever be a day where I actually can do more good than bad?
Skulker: 1; captured
[Scribbles]: 1 Red Huntress
Cujo: 1, got away
“Phantom has a family?” Maddie wondered. She chewed on her food as she thought. Jack shrugged, an odd, unsettled feeling hitting him as he put the book down for a moment. He used his spoon to push around his peas.
“I mean, we all do,” Jack reminded her. “Just...I didn’t think Phantom still talked to his family. After his death. Or did such...non-ghost things with them.” Watching Star Trek with his dad? Jack did that with his own kids all the time. It was his and his youngest daughter’s favorite show to watch together. Jazz typically preferred documentary series, and Maddie was too bothered by scientific inaccuracies to really enjoy science fiction. So it was always “their thing” and knowing that Phantom did it too was...too human. 
“Yeah, I didn’t...really expect him to still be haunting them,” Maddie said. Jack could tell that this was disturbing her a little. 
“But ghosts can retain their memories from life it seems,” Jack spoke up. Maddie stared at him. “The dog remembers commands from his life as a guard dog. What extent, I’m not sure.” Maddie hummed curiously.
Jack picked the book up again, skipping through more boring logs to other words. 
April 29
Ember: 2; captured
Fenton Thermos: full, empty
The past few weeks have been terrible. I have definitely come to the conclusion that I really am developing a crush on [scribbles]. Or maybe I always had one, I dunno. Is this really just an effect from Ember’s supposed spell? Does ghostly mind control really last? I think I always knew that I liked her though. I mean, ever since I told her that [scribbles], she’s been so supportive. She even cut my hair for me, which really pissed my parents off, but they ended up admitting that I looked better with my hair short anyway. Almost like it’s meant to be, huh? Ha. [scribbles] is also one of the only two people who know my deeper secret. She’s been so supportive through that too. She calls me Danny, and every time she refers to me as that, it makes my heart go crazy.
But would she even like me? Would she even wanna be with somebody like me? I don’t think I’d be her type. Some other friends I met at this local support group have complained about the struggles of dating. The stories are depressing, and it makes me worried that while [scribbles] will always love and accept me as a friend, that she’d never be able to love me as a boyfriend. I hate my life.
“Aw, Phantom has a little girlfriend,” Jack half-joked, only for goosebumps to raise and an odd chill run down his spine. He looked to Maddie for her opinion, and her face was scrunched up.
“That’s a bit creepy,” she commented. “He’s pretending to be human.”
“I dunno, Mads,” Jack shrugged. He re-read the ghostly teen’s internal conflicts. “Why would he pretend to be human in a journal that nobody’s meant to read?”
“He has to be sharing it with his allies,” she argued. “Those people he’s been scribbling out. Phantom has to be pretending for them. To keep them around. He even mentioned ghostly mind control.” 
She pushed her mostly-finished plate from herself, motioning for Jack to hand over the journal. He complied, and Maddie flipped through it. She stopped, and she set the journal down on the table once more. Leaning over, she studied the spine. A finger ran along the inner spine, and she frowned.
“Pages are missing,” she noticed. Jack pushed his plate out of the way to lean over as well.
Indeed, the top of the diary revealed that it was meant to be a normal, full diary. Now that Maddie pointed it out, it looked like well over a fourth of the diary had missing pages. Jack squinted, pulling his hood over his eyes. He used his googles to better examine.
“They weren’t ripped out, like in a ghost fight,” Jack told her. He pointed to what remained of a page, a barely noticeable strip. “It was carefully cut out.” Maddie narrowed her eyes to get a better look.
“You’re right,” she mused. “Phantom did this purposefully. Probably to hide stuff from his allies.”
“But why hide some stuff and not others?” Jack wondered aloud. “Clearly this girlfriend figure is an ally, but he can’t be...sharing this with her, right?” Maddie pulled back from the notebook to lean in her chair with a heavy sigh.
“...I don’t know,” she admitted. “I don’t think he would. But he’s also a ghost, they do weird things.” Jack didn’t know how to reply, and so he continued to read.
May 16
The past few days have been so full of drama. Walker ruined my life. He absolutely ruined it. He set out to make me the most hated person in Amity Park out of pure spite, and he succeeded. I’m public enemy number one. I can never win. For a while now, I had debated telling my parents, because I so desperately want their support, but they were part of the news coverage calling me a disgusting, evil ghost. I ended up crying yesterday. I don’t think they’ll ever truly love me if they knew. I also failed Wulf. Another failure on my plate. I’m just waiting for it to all crash down on me.
Walker: 1; sent to the GZ
Wulf: 1; sent to the GZ
Walker’s goons: at least 14, all captured
Fenton Thermos: overflowingly full
“Oh this is just becoming nonsense,” Maddie complained. “He’s lying. We were there, Jack! We saw him attack us.”
“I know, I know, he did, yeah, he did,” Jack tried to gather his thoughts. “But why would he lie in this? I don’t think anybody was meant to read this?” Jack flipped through the pages. The further he flipped through in, the more he could tell that some sections had more carefully cut out papers than others. Why was Phantom cutting out? What was he hiding? Why was he hiding it?
“He meant for somebody to read this,” Maddie lightly argued. 
“Yeah, it seems like it, but…,” Jack trailed off. He shook his head a bit, flipping back to where they had left off. “I dunno.”
“Hold on a second,” Maddie urged him, standing up. “Let me get something to write with, we should take some notes.”
“We can just use the scanner to make a copy of the journal afterwards, and we can further analyze it afterwards,” Jack suggested. Maddie thought on this, and she nodded, but she still reached for some scrap paper and a pen.
“Good idea, we should probably read through it fully first anyway,” she agreed. “But I still want to jot down some thoughts.”
“Of course, of course,” Jack replied. He knew that’s how she thought and processed information best, and it was always from her notes that he could visualize his own theories properly. He took a drink of tea before he continued reading the next true entry.
May 24
My entire relationship with my other crush (not [scribbles]) was a lie. She was being overshadowed by Kitty the entire time. This was my first real girlfriend, and it was all fake. I had assumed I was so lucky. I found a girl who knew and was okay with both of my biggest secrets. When I got home I ended up just going straight to my room. [scribbles] brought me dinner, but I didn’t feel like eating. Is this what life is going to be for me? I don’t want it to be like this. The only good thing is that [scribbles] doesn’t know either secret alongside our brief relationship.
Least Kitty and Johnny seem happy again. For now at least. I swear, they’re always breaking up and getting back together. 
Kitty: 1; sent back to the GZ
Johnny 13: 1; sent back to the GZ
Shadow: 1; sent back to the GZ
Jack could lightly hear Maddie taking notes on her scrap paper, the pen scratching at the surface. He didn’t comment on it, silently flipping to the next page, and he continued to read. 
August 19
I was forced to really face the reality of how much I fucked up [scribbles] life. I hate it. I’d do anything to take it back. It makes me wonder if I should just retire. Am I even really doing anything to help? Am I just a nuisance? Everybody thinks that. 
Rationally I know I can’t. I’m the only one who can properly deal with the ghosts, who has the power and abilities to fight back without getting killed. I have to do what I can, but I just wish I could do it without making so many mistakes. [scribbles] said that it’ll be okay, and that it gets better, but it sure doesn’t fucking feel like it.
Skulker: 3; finished
Red Huntress: 2; temporary truce?
“He’s so full of...emotion for a ghost,” Maddie finally spoke up. 
Jack glanced at the paper she had in front of her. There was some notes of what they had been learning so far, and there were emotions written in all caps with a line under, and a list of various emotions. Emotions Phantom seemed to be displaying. Guilty, despair, loneliness, self-hatred, self-doubt. Despite the few entries, it was already quite a list.
“It’s not just him either,” Maddie continued. Jack rose an eyebrow at her. She didn’t immediately reply, fingers on her lips as she stared down at the journal. “He’s giving emotions to other ghosts too.”
Jack stared down blankly at the journal in his hands. 
“Where?”
Maddie began to write, and as she wrote, it clicked. Spectra’s joy in hurting others. Kitty and Johnny’s relationship. Walker’s spite. Cujo being a playful puppy. According to Phantom, and against what they knew as scientists, ghosts were experiencing a wide variety of emotions and for different reasons. It was weird. 
Jack continued to read.
October 17
I don’t know what happened the past few days. It’s this weird blur. According to [scribbles] and [scribbles] I did a lot of bad things under Freakshow’s control. [scribbles] hugged me and told me that it was nothing that we couldn’t fix, but I doubt that. Why does this keep happening to me? I don’t want to hurt people. I want to be a good person, and I want to help Amity Park, but I don’t know what keeps happening. Everything’s a fog, and I’m exhausted. 
Freakshow: 1; arrested by APPD
Circus ghosts: freed from Freakshow’s control, went back to the GZ
Replace Fenton Anti-Creep Stick, print out another sticker to put on it
“Freakshow...that was the weird circus guy,” Jack interrupted himself. Maddie nodded.
“Yeah, and if Phantom’s right...he could control the ghosts,” she mused. “So there’s a way for humans to take control of ghosts...That’s something to look into. If we can control the ghosts into staying away, it’d be such a massive scientific breakthrough.”
“We should look into Freakshow more, and see if we can talk to him!” Jack agreed. “Maybe he’ll share something with us.” Maddie smiled softly.
“I doubt that,” she replied gently. “But there’s no harm in trying. What else does it say?”
November 8
I have to fight Pariah Dark. I’m terrified. I don’t think I’ll live through it. How can I live through fighting the actual ghost king? I may never see my family again, and I can’t even tell them what happened to me if I die. I’ve been debating telling [scribbles] that I like her, but I don’t think I could bring myself to do it. 
What happens if I die? I have no clue. I’m scared to find out. I can’t die now. I have to make it back. I’ll go missing, and I won’t even be declared dead as my parents’ son. Nobody will know who to really look for. I have to come back. Maybe if I succeed, and people like me again after this, I can tell my family everything.
November 10
I couldn’t tell them. My parents still despise part of me, despite what I’ve done. I know they love me, cause my mom’s already been fussing over me like crazy because of my injuries. [scribbles] said she cried when they couldn’t find me, and that my dad had gone out looking for me all over the city, even in the dangerous parts. They of course love me, but do they really love me unconditionally?
Jack felt his voice trailing off as he hit the end. He coughed lightly, and he took a long drink. Maddie stared off into nothing. The only thing he could think of was his own search for his baby girl. He wasn’t alone, bumping into several other parents desperately looking for their missing children, and several children who got separated from their parents. The entire day was somber and frightening, and Maddie had spent the entire day glued to the phone. In case she called them. 
It was all...too real, and Jack flipped past more logs. He couldn’t help but begin to take note of how every single day had a log of ghost fighting activities, even if Phantom didn’t write down his feelings every day. This was so much more than the ghost hunting duo ever expected, more attacks than they were recording.
His eyes rested only for a moment on December 19, and he decided to just skip it. They had already read it earlier. No need to refresh those memories. More logs, and more missing pages, and he came upon another one. 
March 26
I ripped out a lot of pages, more than I intended. I can’t risk anybody finding out what happened, but also other pages revealed too much, so I kept them tucked away where nobody could ever find them. I’d burn them, but I don’t want to lose the ghost hunting data. It’s okay now. I fixed the problem and assured that everything’s going to be fine. Possibly better. I made the right choice this time, and now I know that one day, I will grow a sick beard. 
I know somebody knows my secrets now. All of them. She had known for months but wanted me to tell her. She asked me if I had a name, and ever since I told her that it was Danny, she’s been calling me that whenever she can. It made me cry the first time. It’s so great to have her know everything now. She loves me no matter what. I couldn’t ask for a better person. Even though she found out because I’m an idiot. This entire thing also made me realize how important it is to keep those secrets, and how poorly I’ve been keeping them. 
I didn’t ever mean for this to turn into a diary. I wanted to keep track of ghost fights. But it honestly helps with both the dysphoria and the stresses of being a ghost. I just went back and scribbled out names. Just in case. In the future I need to be more vague. 
But this is also the end for one secret. If things go wrong then well. I don’t know. I’ll make it up as I go along. But I know that this is who I am, and that I’m hitting a point where I need help to just be me. 
Him: 1; captured for good
Skulker: 2; captured
Desiree: 1; captured
Ectopusses: 1; captured
Cujo: 1, sent back to the GZ
Fenton Thermos: full
Fenton Anti-Creep Stick: destroyed, get new bat and sticker to put on it
Also learned a new ghost power: Ghostly wail. A scream that can just absolutely fuck somebody’s day up. I have to use it sparingly though.
Jack closed the journal, and he set it flat on the table. His mind was blank, and he couldn’t read Maddie. She continued to stare at the closed book, hand in pen but almost unsure as to what to even jot down as a note. He leaned in his seat, finishing his drink. Maddie exhaled deeply, dropping her pen in favor of stretching.
Neither said a word. Jack knew that this journal was not any kind of trick. It was too raw and emotional to be anything more than the thoughts of a teenage ghost. He regretted reading it. It held some interesting information, and he was sure if he dug deeper, that he would find more. But as it stood, his own intense guilt was settling as he knew that he just took too personal a look into the private emotional afterlife of Phantom.
“This is a lot to take in,” Maddie finally spoke. Jack only nodded.
The basement door opened, and they heard dual pairs of footsteps hop downstairs. Jack instantly brightened, and he turned in his chair to smile as his kids soon came into view.
“Hey, is this a bad time?” Jazz asked. She glanced between them, and Jack immediately shook his head no. 
“No, no,” Maddie replied quickly. Jack saw her push the journal and her notes, along with her pen and a few spare lab tools, carelessly into a drawer to help assure the Fenton kids that they weren’t interrupting anything. “What’s up, sweetie?” 
“Well, I have something that I wanna talk about,” their youngest spoke slowly. Jack noticed that she had finally taken off her hoodie, and that while she wore her normal tomboy attire, that something was a bit off about her. He couldn’t place it. Jazz stood close to her, an arm full of books clutched to her chest, though he couldn’t make out any titles. “It’s something important, and I don’t really want to put it off any longer.”
“Is something wrong? Are you in trouble?” Jack asked. His daughter shook her head no. 
“Oh, no!” she said. “It’s just…” 
She took a deep breath, and soon, their son began to explain.
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Hard Truths
Another for  #UnsympAndAngstSidesBingo prompt is - “I know you're in there, somewhere.”
Warnings for unsympathetic! Janus, slight unsympathetic! Virgil, descriptions of terrible things (Remus isn’t even in this one!), panic attack, overwhelmed, catatonic state.
Link to work on AO3
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It was late, when Janus made his way to the kitchen for a glass of water.
 He was not yet familiar enough with the lightside layout to navigate the room without bumping into things, so turned on the light. He was surprised to see that he was not alone, as Virgil startled, illuminated in the process of fetching a snack.
He scowled, and hissed.
Janus rolled his eyes.
“Good evening to you too...”
He walked past Virgil, hunched and defensive, and took down a glass. He was aware of the other's eyes on him, watching his every move as if he might strike out at any moment.
It irked him that no matter what he did, Virgil seemed to treat him like something venomous and wicked.
True he and Anxiety had traded barbs and snide remarks in the past, but he was genuinely trying to be less antagonistic. He was even being honest from time to time, much as it grated against his personality and function, all for sake of fitting in better with the so-called Lights.
 It hurt, deeper than he would ever admit, that his efforts were not appreciated or acknowledged.
He glanced up, only to see that Virgil continue to stare, eyes narrowed and arms folded.
 “Surely you have better things to do than watch me?”
“I watching you snake, to make sure you don't try to do something underhanded and sneaky! Like poison the water, or tamper with the food!”
“Do you really trust me so little?”
“You do not deserve trust. You are a liar; the literal embodiment of Deceit!”
Janus scoffed.
“I make no apology for what I am... Anxiety... but I am more than a source of distrust.”
“Like I'd believe you! You speak nothing but lies.”
“Oh?”
Janus turned and faced Virgil, his anger writ across his expression. He was done playing 'nice'.
“So you want the truth Virgil? Fine!”
Virgil looked nervous, his highly honed wariness warning that the situation was quickly becoming fraught and dangerous.
“All of Thomas's friends will die. That's not a threat by the way, but an inevitability. It could happen years from now, or tomorrow, and there is nothing you can do to prevent it.”
 Virgil frowned, his heart already hammering at the thought of losing the connections that made him feel safe.
“Accidents, illness, cancer.... a myriad of ways a person can meet their end. There are cancers, Virgil, that you would not even know about till they spread throughout the body and it is much too late.”
 Virgil took a step back, now concerned that Thomas might have cancer. Incurable, painful cancer.
“Stop....” he said, pulling his hoodie over his head.
“But why waste your worry on a single human tragedy, when you could consider the wider world? There is conflict and climate change and all sorts of terrible truths Virgil.”
Virgil gasped, his breath both too fast and too shallow, as Janus spoke.
“Stop!” Virgil pleaded, but Janus was too incensed to stop, all his frustrations and anger finding outlet finally.
“Global pandemics, pollution, unequal wealth distribution!”
Virgil crumpled to the ground, covering his ears but unable to block out the barrage of Janus's hard truths. He felt panicked, <i>attacked.</i>
“Species extinction, water shortages, famines, and my personal favourite, the unrelenting passage of time ever onwards!”
Virgil, overwhelmed, felt a strange darkness creep over him, his mind shutting down rather than deal with all the terrible things to be anxious about. He held on, not for his own sake, but for Thomas. Thomas needed him.
However, as if Janus knew what would hurt most, he had saved his last comment to be the most devastating.
“There is nothing you can do to save or protect him, Thomas is at the mercy of a world that is changing, and cruel.”
When Virgil did not say anything to argue against him, Janus brushed off his shoulders, satisfied that he had proven that truths could be just as unpleasant as lies.
He looked down, sneering.
“How's that truth tasting now then Virgil dear?”
Virgil said nothing.
“Virgil? It's hard to gloat properly if you won't even acknowledge my superior retort....”
Virgil said nothing.
Janus frowned, unease starting to prick at his victory.
“Virgil...?”
He would have welcomed a snide remark, even a hateful hiss, but Virgil continued to say nothing, still and staring in front of him, his eyes unfocused.
“I am not getting worried Virgil, say something. Please!”
Janus bent down, all pretence of aloofness cast aside as he took Virgil's head in his shaking hands, willing him to respond. Virgil did not resist, did not even seem like he noticed Janus's gloved hands on him.
Virgil said nothing.
“I'm not sorry!” Janus cried, his eyes growing damp, horrified at what he had done.
“Please, I know you're in there, somewhere... Please! Please come back to me!”
Virgil said nothing.
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kassia-ortiz · 4 years
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“Let me be clear -- I'm no politician. Like most of you, I come from nothing. And I know what it means to be powerless,” the sound of my father’s voice on the television caught my attention, forcing me to look up from my laptop. There he was; in the middle of some interview for one of the more popular San Juan news outlets, dripping in machismo and dressed in overpriced Brioni...lying his fucking ass off.
“My campaign for governor is about restoring the power to you, the people of Puerto Rico, and taking it out of the hands of the thugs that are destroying the very fabric of our society..” he droned on as I continued to watch his first on-air interview since announcing his intent to run. I glanced behind where I sat on the couch to throw Mateo, the man in charge of my protection while in the city, the deepest eye roll I could muster. “Can you believe him?” I questioned incredulously, though I knew there would be no response. He wasn’t allowed to speak to me unnecessarily. I continued to watch in silence, trying to ignore my internal anger at his blatant arrogance and quell it by keeping my retorts to myself. “...and robbing our children’s future. We all know who I’m talking about - the cartels.” You mean you. “If elected, my promise to you is this: I will track down every drug dealer, every gang banger, every smuggler. I will find every stash house and burn it to the ground." There's no way people are going to buy this shit.
"That's quite a promise," the interviewer cut in with a disbelieving tone, causing me to look up again, ready to see if he had it in him to call my father on his crap. "And I must admit your story is one for the books. Born the son of a farmer, starting his own local produce company and turning it into a thriving international export business." Here I couldn't stop the second eye roll. "In regards to your past though, I'm sure you're aware of the allegations of your direct involvement in the drug trade." There you go. Let's see him dance his way around that. 
"Nothing could be farther from the truth," my father replied without missing a beat, "My opponents have spread lies about me in an attempt to make me look just like them - dirty. Hiding behind the masks of politicians. But the voters know that these are just lies." You mean you pay them to believe the lies. "They are looking for a man of the people, to put an end to these corrupt politicians who for too long have turned a blind eye, in favor of these cartels. They want a man who doesn't just make promises, but a man of his word. Ortiz is a--" The sound of his voice cut out as soon as I shut down the television. I couldn't listen to anymore of the hypocrisy.
But almost as though he could read my mind all the way from San Juan, my phone began to ring with my father’s face filling the screen. As much shit as I was just talking about him in my head, I still answered before the third ring - a rule of his for me since I got my first cellphone. And if there's one thing my father is especially skilled at, it's demanding obedience. "Yes, I saw the interview," I immediately said as my way of a greeting, "And yes, I remember the meeting tonight. You don't need to call and remind me before every one."
"If I don’t call to remind you that your entire college tuition and fancy New York apartment can be easily stripped away," his tone dripped with condescension, knowing full well that I was on the other end, seething, "You won't perform your job to the best of your abilities. Don't fuck this up, Kassia. Our shipments have been coming in light and I fully expect you to deliver those responsible to me by tomorrow. Me entiendes?"
"Si, Papa, I understand," I agreed, wanting to get him off the phone, tired of biting my tongue, "Mateo is already fetching the car. I'll call with an update after." I hung up before he could say anything else. By that point, Mateo was looking at me with confusion but I still got up to get dressed. Forever obedient. We were out the door half an hour later, my face fully made up and my outfit carefully chosen to make me seem more like I knew what I was doing. As if the right blazer was going to make me feel more like the daughter of a cartel jefé or instill in me the hunger for violence these meetings seemed to require.
"The rest of the men are on standby at the warehouse," came Mateo's strong baritone once we were in the quiet, blacked out SUV. I gave him a nod of acknowledgement in the rearview mirror as he reached back to hand me my handgun of choice - a sleek SIG Sauer pistol given to me by my father when I was fifteen. You know, a normal gift for a girl of that age. I slipped it into the holster I wore under my jacket and sat back as the vehicle pulled into the road. "Don't forget we need to pick up my quality control," I directed him offhandedly, already sending the warning text. My eyes watched the people on the sidewalks as we drove through the city, envying the mundane lives they all led as I prepared myself mentally to play the role of the woman I was destined to be. The one controlling the entire east coast distribution of my father’s cocaina empire.
A destiny I never asked for.
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Hell’s Bells || Oscar and Kaden
TIMING: Before dinner with Regan and the scream LOCATION: The Silver Bullet PARTIES: @forfuchssake​ and @chasseurdeloup​ SUMMARY: Just a normal night at the Bullet with some friends
It’d been entirely too long since he’d gotten to spend some good old fashioned quality time with his nephew and Oscar was more than ready for Kaden to show him this hunter bar. There was something to be said about the sense of community and comradery that all hunters seemed to share. It didn’t matter if it was a warden, slayer, or a fellow beast hunter-- that connection stood. They all had a duty to protect people and it was something that bonded them all together. As usual, he donned his favorite leather jacket for a night in the bar. When he picked Kaden up, he gave his arm a playful nudge and joked, “You excited to show an old man hunter like me all the good haunts?” He followed Kaden into the bar and instantly became engulfed in the energy. The buzz of chatter in the air and the stories he could pick up if he concentrated was contagious. They ordered a round of beers from the bar and he asked, “See anyone you know around tonight?”
“So long as you don’t embarrass me, old man,” Kaden said with a smile, returning the nudge. The Silver Bullet was home away from home. At least that’s what he kept telling himself it was. Somehow the more he went, the less that seemed to be true. Still, he was hoping that having Oscar with him would make it feel a little more like home again. Or a lot, depending. “Hey, Sam,” he said with a wave as they walked in and headed to the bar. As they took their beers, Kaden glanced around. “I know most of the regulars here,” he said. Then again, maybe he spoke too soon. “Or I did.” Admittedly he didn’t swing by as often; he found himself spending time with Regan more often than not. Shit, did he recognize anyone here other than Sam? His heart sunk a moment and then his eyes locked in on a table with some familiar faces. “There,” he said with a nod and led them over. Kaden greeted the table as they got there. “Devin, Mads, Kyle, this is my uncle Oscar,” he told them, introducing the hunters sitting at the table to his uncle. “It’s a whole ass family reunion tonight.”
“Me? Embarrass you? When have I ever done anything like that,” Oscar joked with a hearty laugh. The Silver Bullet was just the vibe he was looking for. Meeting new hunters had always been one of the fun parts of the job. Not many could relate to the challenges they faced on a day to day basis and Oscar could only hope that Kaden was utilizing this community. It was important to have a healthy outlet for this shit and these guys understood. He waved to Sam and ordered his beer. He looked to Kaden who seemed to be looking for familiar faces. “You did? You really are getting domestic on me,” he retorted with a laugh until Kaden pointed out a table. There was a somewhat mousy looking one that Kaden called Devin. He looked really smart and he’d bet anything he was a warden. One had to be good with their words to work with the damn fae. Mads looked tough, but gorgeous. He’d definitely be buying her a drink. Kyle was drinking a Natty Light and Oscar did his best not to judge. “Good to meet everyone,” his eyes landed on Mads, “Especially you.” Everyone gave him a welcoming wave. “So, who here has some fun stories tonight? This town I’m sure there’s some good ones.” Not surprisingly, Kyle was the first one to pip up, “Well, last week I killed an ustra. Tricky bastards those ones,” he exclaimed slamming his can down on the table.
Kaden rolled his eyes at Oscar’s ribbing. “Yeah well, keep it in check if you can stand to, alright? I know it’s going to be a tall order for you.” It was strange how quickly all of his worries about this evening faded away as he saw the group and sat down with his drink in hand. This was fine, normal, even. Well, his version of normal. Certainly not what most people would have considered normal. He let out a small sigh as he took a drink. “Shut it,” he grumbled under his breath. He’d never seen himself as the type to settle into anything, hell he’d always planned to model his life after Oscar’s in a lot of ways. It hadn’t bothered him just how “domestic” his life had become until his uncle decided to point it out. It almost felt like an insult coming from him. And he didn’t even know the half of it. As Oscar flirted with Mads, Kaden rolled his eyes again, but a hint of a smile was still on his face. Of course Oscar zeroed in on Mads. Made sense. And he could sure do worse. “An ustra? Shit, good for you, Kyle. I saw one the other week. It nearly got me. I only got out bec--” The words caught in his throat. He only got out of it because a werewolf helped him. Putain. “You lose the plot, Langley?” Devin asked. “Are you lying to us? Come on, there’s no way you took one by yourself,” he finished with a huff. Kaden wanted to crawl into a hole. He took an awkward sip instead. “Fuck off. I had something caught in my throat. It was definitely an ustra. I got a lucky shot in right at its eye. That was it. How about you fucking let me finish speaking next time, Porter, huh?”
While Oscar was a little put off by Kyle slamming a can down on the table, he was impressed with him taking down an ustra. From what he knew, they were tricky bastards. You had to avoid their venom or you were surely done for. What had surprised him was that Kaden had gotten defensive while speaking of his own ustra encounter. He raised a brow and let him finish. “Glad you’re both alive to tell the tale. I’ve never seen one myself though maybe that’ll change in this crazy town.” He gave Kaden a pat on the back and chuckled, “No need to get defensive, Junge. I’ve seen you take down worse. Devin here’s probably just mad he hasn’t seen one.” Devin seemed to huff something under his breath and Oscar took another swig of his beer. He turned to Mads and gave her a devilish grin. “What about you, Mads? You look like you could kick my ass.” As much was true and damn attractive at that. She smirked and responded, “You’re right, I could kick your ass, but you caught me on a good night so I won’t. What I can’t believe is that these guys over here are bragging about an ustra. That’s child’s play.” She threw back the rest of what looked like whiskey on the rocks before she finished, “Meanwhile, I just took down an asanbosam. Fight an agile tree vampire then we can talk about who the real badass is here, boys.”
Kaden’s first instinct at the word defensive was to bite back, and he nearly did. Until Oscar finished speaking. Right. A bit of a smile crept on his face. Devin seemed less thrilled by the assessment. “That may be true. However, I’ll have you know there’s a banshee in town that I’m working on tracking, I’m sure I’ll have a kill more impressive than your ustra soon enough,” Devin assessed, cleaning his glasses as he waxed on. At the word banshee, the beer he was sipping seemed to aim right for his windpipe and Kaden beat his chest a moment as he tried to get his breath back. Shit, shit, fuck, putain de merde, fucking shit fuck, fuck. “What’s wrong with you, Langley?” Kyle asked. “Nothing, I’m fine,” he sputtered between coughs. Fuck, fuck, he had to focus, think quick. “I was just cracking up at the thought of you bagging a banshee. The fact you even think there’s one in town is fucking laughable. You know how rare those are?” Devin’s feathers looked ruffled and he was practically steaming. “Have you not heard the screams? Seen the broken glass? You have to know as well as I that--” Kyle waved his beer can in Devin’s face to make him stop. “Yeah, yeah, no one cares, dude.” Kaden exhaled, trying not to let it be a full on sigh of relief. His stomach was in knots and they were only a few minutes into the evening. He was going to need a lot of refills tonight, that was for sure. “Asanbosam? Pft, big deal. Took down one of those, too.” If they could just stick to the undead, that’d be great. “I mean, alright, a witch helped a little but only after I saved her life. Let me know when you go up against a vrykolakas. Then I might be impressed.”
When Devin mentioned tracking a banshee, it came as no surprise to Oscar he was a warden. While he respected the crap out of what they did and what they went up against, he much preferred his life as a beast hunter. Not nearly as much wit and watching your words required. “A banshee? Can’t say I’ve heard of one this side of the Atlantic, but the death rate in this town is probably appealing to them,” Oscar mused though he was taken aback by Kaden sputtering on his drink. Had he missed something funny there? There was a certain tension to Kaden still that he couldn’t quite place. He gave him a few good pats on the back and pressed, “It’s not far fetched, I mean hell, we saw a bies on my first night in town. If there is a banshee in town, I’m sure we’ll all hear it soon enough.” Especially given they all had more sensitive hearing than most. There must have been some sort of weird rivalry going on between Kaden and Devin that he wasn’t all that interested in entertaining. Kaden was better than that. Thankfully, with Kyle’s influence, Devin seemed to be dropping it. He couldn’t help but laugh at everyone one upping each other. He gave Kaden a joking nudge. “Nice job taking down an asanbosam… though I will say I’m sure Mads looked way better while doing it.” He gave Mads a sly wink to which she responded with a coy grin. “Vrykolakas are rough, too. Haven’t worked with too many spellcasters, but a slayer back in Prague helped me out with a pricolici. Worst of both worlds, those arschlochs.”
Kyle muttered something about them all sounding like nerds as he slammed his can of shitty American beer down on the table. Oscar rolled his eyes, had to love the younger generation. “You’re not going to make it long with that kind of attitude. Different monsters require different weapons and fighting tactics. It’s one thing to enjoy the fight, it’s another to be stupid.”
“Sure is,” Kaden mumbled into his beer. Hell the death rate was half the reason why Regan was employed in the town. Funny enough. If he left to go to the restroom to go vomit,would anyone notice? “Yeah but bies can’t get on a plane and fly across the ocean. Just because you think you heard a barn owl once doesn’t mean it was a banshee or that she-- it’d even still be in town, putain.” Still Oscar’s last comment churned a pit in his stomach. Of course they’d hear it. They all would. When she screamed for someone’s death, half the town could hear it. It was a wonder she hadn’t come across a warden yet. For a brief moment Kaden’s eyes caught Devin’s and he wondered if he would be willing to kill the other man for Regan’s sake. He looked away just as quick. Vomiting in the restroom was feeling more like a necessity. No, he wouldn’t be willing to take someone’s life, especially not another hunter’s. Right? The beer in front of him was starting to look like an enemy to the knots in his stomach. Focusing on whatever was going on between Mads and Oscar seemed less upsetting, surprisingly, he turned his focus there, away from Devin. “Well we know she looks better than you, so not surprising” he said with his own half smile. He had little doubt they’d be leaving without him by the end of the night. Fine by him. Oscar deserved some fun. He was always good at finding it. I would be nice if Kaden could remember how to have fun right about now but the thought of pricolici just flashed a vision of Montgomery’s trophy room in front of his eyes. Shit, why was he so fucking off tonight?
“Don’t worry, Kyle can be our cannon fodder. That is what he was trained for, right?” Kaden ribbed. Kyle didn’t seem to know what that meant but he did know it was an insult. “Man, shut up Langley. No one cares about your fancy lineage, dude.” Kaden went to roll his eyes but as much as he was joking, he really didn’t enjoy seeing more dead hunters. “Calm down. I didn’t say shit about that, you did, But seriously, if you want any help or tips let me know. No bullshit.”
There was clearly some sort of rivalry between Devin and Kaden that Oscar wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to understand. A banshee being in town really wasn’t all that far-fetched. Considering the death rate, it’d be the perfect spot for one to call home and there would probably be lots of screams. It was only a matter of time before one revealed itself if there was a banshee here. He took a chug of his beer and shrugged off the whole debate, “Sure, they can travel. Time will surely tell.” Hopefully, not paying too much mind to Devin would help shake off whatever tension was there. He’d have to ask about that later though he figured that’d be a message. By all indication, Mads seemed interested in him and he had no intention of wasting that momentum. He laughed and agreed, “Damn right, she does. Though that could be said of her versus anyone in this bar. Maybe she’ll still give an old man like me a fighting chance.” Her smirk told him everything he needed to know though her response let him know she wasn’t going to make it easy. “I’d consider it, though I do think you should at least buy a girl a drink first. I may be able to kick your ass, but I’m still a lady.” With a nod, he answered, “You don’t have to tell me twice.” He turned to Kaden and asked, “Need another beer, Junge?” He looked a bit perplexed to see just how untouched his beer was. “Actually, I’m getting you another one. Don’t let a nice Spatan like that get warm.” He gave Kaden a big pat on the back before he went off to grab another round for himself, Mads, and Kaden. He asked Sam for their drinks and brought them back over to catch the tail end of Kyle and Kaden’s conversation. “Seriously, kid, it’s got nothing to do with clout. In a town like this, you gotta know what you’re up against. No one wants to see your obituary in the paper.”
Kaden knew it was only a matter of time until a warden ran into Regan if they weren’t already hunting her but he still hoped time wouldn’t tell, that she could be spared that part of supernatural life. Anyway, it was fun to see Mads giving Oscar a hard time. And nice to not have to worry about his own bullshit. “Are you suggesting that he’s not a gentleman?” Kaden asked Mads, feigning surprise. “I can assure, this,” he said, gesturing to Oscar, “is a gentleman through and through. He does owe you a drink, though,” he said with a smile. It was easy though to focus on someone other than himself. Plus, the sooner that Oscar left with Mads, the sooner he could head home, maybe stop by and see Regan. Putain, he felt like he became such a stick in the mud. “Oh?” He almost missed that Oscar was talking to him. How he could feel so utterly alone at a bar surrounded by people was a wonder. “Right, sorry. Thanks. Do you need any help getting the--?” Oscar was already gone before Kaden could finish asking. He didn’t need help, anyway, Kaden knew that. He always had things covered. Somehow his uncle always had life figured out. Kaden thought he had his figured out, too. But hey, he could take some comfort in the fact that he had more figured out than Kyle did. “I’m not going to die. I got this covered,” Kyle said before chugging the rest of his beer. “Look, I got this tattoo. It’s for protection. No way am I going to kick the bucket for at least five years.” Kaden pinched his nose and shook his head, unable to stifle the laughs at seeing what looked like a generic tribal tattoo on Kyle’s arm. “If you say so, ‘dude.’ Good luck,” Kaden said through laughter. “I hope you didn’t pay too much money for that.”
As Oscar was walking back with all three drinks in tow, he wished he could turn the hunter hearing off from time to time. A protective tattoo? Was this Kyle guy an absolute idiot? It’d be a miracle if he made it five more days let alone five more years. It sounded like there was no talking sense into that thick skull of his, so he opted to not push it any further. He was much more taken with Mads anyway. If Kyle wanted to be a dumbass, that was his prerogative. He set Kaden’s and Mads’ drinks down in front of them and shook his head, “Pretty sure you got scammed, Kyle. Don’t let some tattoo make you forget just how dangerous what we do is.” Okay, maybe he hadn’t entirely let that slide. Was he a cocky bastard himself? He sure was, but he knew his shit. There were very few beasts out there that he couldn’t recognize and have some recollection of the best way to kill them. Without that knowledge he’d have been a long ficken time ago. He’d had just about enough of Kyle’s shit and Kaden seemed over it, too. Seeing if Mads wanted to get out of here after they finished this round seemed like the best idea. There was a wry grin on his face as he asked, “So how are my chances looking now that I’ve been a gentleman and brought the prettiest lady in the bar a drink?” Mads rolled her eyes at him playfully and answered, “I decided you were coming home with me when you first joined us.” A woman who could kick his ass and knew what she wanted and went for it. His wicked grin only widened and he placed a hand on her lower back as he slid onto the stool next to her. “I’m sure Kaden here will appreciate not having to chauffeur me back to my hotel. I’d say I’m cramping his style, but that would be a lie.”
Kaden made a mental note to ask Luce if she saw Kyle in the shop and if it was her that pulled a prank on him and robbed him of his money or if that was where she drew the line. It’d be an entertaining conversation either way, he had a feeling that much was true. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could stand talking to Kyle and he couldn’t bear to be alone with Devin, he was too afraid he’d give himself away. Come on, Oscar, flirt faster. Right on schedule, his uncle practically leaned over and winked at Mads across the table. Very subtle. Still, he was thankful. It was odd watching him flirt with women at a hunter bar meanwhile he wasn’t trying to pick up anyone himself. Hell, he had someone to go home to. So much of it felt wrong but at the same time, he wasn’t really sure he’d trade it. Looking around the bar, the allure, the comfort, it felt hollow. Not completely but it wasn’t what he remembered. But he was happy to see Oscar was having a good time. And was about to have a better one. “You’re right, old man. Some of us have better shit to do at home. And people,” he said with a coy smile. “No offense to you, Mads. You can do better, though.” He downed the rest of his beer and gave Oscar a pat on the shoulder before turning to head out. “Have a good night,” he said and gave a small wave before heading out and going home back to a quiet night at home, something that oddly felt more normal now. Who would have guessed.
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Ransom
Sherlock raced through the tasks he needed to do, and his heart kicked up a pace as an unseen door swung open and a steady tread approached. Squeezing his eyes shut he hoped everything was done, and would meet demands because while he knew she wouldn't be harmed, his violin was his only way to give voice to all his unmentionable feelings.
...
It had started this morning after the night was disrupted by a bit of a kitchen disaster, John had eventually taken 2 enormous charcoal tablets after his ill feeling gut was linked to a bit of cross contamination in the fridge with one of Sherlock's experiments.
Sherlock had woken to a chilling note on his desk:
You may have Sarah back when the kitchen is clean, properly clean Sherlock. Miss Chang will not be harmed (I would never do that to you Lovely) but she will not return to a toxic flat.
I will be home after lunch as I'm working a half shift today.
You're a scientist, you know how to sanitise things.
<3 John.
Sherlock had raced around checking every potential hiding spot and ran down to Mrs Hudson, she was either not home or ignoring him.
...
Sherlock's heart froze as John stood in the doorway, there was no violin case in his hands. "John." His voice sounded breathless in his ears and he wasn't even sure if John Heard him as Dr Watson did a round and inspected the kitchen.
Sherlock fled down stairs to see if she was in the passage and was met by a worried looking John on the top step. "She's safe Sherlock and the kitchen is perfect so I'll go fetch her now. Just please don't inadvertently poison me again ok?". He felt John's eyes flicker over him and tried to get his breath back under control as John sent a text.
Mycroft appeared a few minutes later with the violin and it looked like a few dozen pages of staff paper. John watched amazed as Mycroft gently returned the case to his brother's arms while muttering in French, Sherlock seemed to shake. "I recall warning you this was ill thought out John." Mycroft spoke calmly but a weight dropped into John's gut.
Sherlock moved silently to set the case on thier desk. "The violin was the first way Sherlock really spoke as a child, he's never really had the vocabulary to communicate much of his thought process to others so Mother had insisted on a creative outlet." John stared at the curly head bent over his music stand.
"I'm sorry. You did warn me Mycroft and I'm sorry." Ice blue eyes bore into him before they shifted to the silent man at the window. Mycroft left without another word. "Sherlock, my LovelyLove, I'm so sorry." More French muttering resolved itself to English.
"It was always easier John, the music, her voice." He leaned into John who had tucked himself against his back as he sometimes did while Sherlock played. "She could speak for me." He felt John's cheek press to his spine as he played.
John squeezed him tightly for a beat. "I didn't realise it, I thought Mycroft was just being his usual self." "Dispite our moments Mycroft does actually know me quite well, he was trying to look after me and likely save you from this faux par as well."
A lot had changed between the brothers after the disastrous island and the happenings at thier old family home. To some degree John was taking the longest to adapt to the brother's reconciliation but he would not forget this moment.
The sweetest music poured over him as he moved to his chair and found he could breathe again, it sounded like forgiveness.
@mofftissfan @sarahthecoat @loveismyrevolution @riorothbates @underestimatemethatwillbefun @anotherwellkeptsecret @benaddictedandsherlocked @johnlockismyreligion @almosttomorocco @superwholocklmt @strangeps3lyricsmuffin @chinike @loves-to-read-fanfic @sillystring111 @ben-locked @jobooksncoffee @johnlockunicorn @chained-to-the-mirror @thinkanddoodle-batch @melmey-fanfics @the-persian-slipper @melsesowieso @morgendaemmerung89 @shiplocks-of-love @pri1982 @kitten-kin @221b-gone-feels @theconsultinglinguist @francj96 @sabrina-phynn @colourfulwatson @thejohnlockoutlet @lady-phoenix-of-tardis @shoshililly @mrb488 @yaycoffee @pippn-frodo @barbsiebabe @skullinitium @boisinberryjamarama
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reddogf13 · 5 years
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Deal with the Devil ch 5
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Pennywise x Beverly
summery: Beverly, for barely a year had been suffering a terminal illness. one night after accepting her fate of oncoming death she gets the sudden urge to return to Derry. returning back after being gone for 11 years she comes face to face with IT. offering a disturbing deal of a lifetime.
"carry my eggs, and I'll fix you back to perfect health."
Will she commit to a deal with the devil?
status: complete
rated: M - fowl language and gore
previous chap: Deal with the Devil ch 4
next chap: Deal with the Devil ch 6
_____________________________________
~ch:5 Cotton candy~
Beverly sat on the bed frozen in shock. Her assumption of giving birth in the end of September proven false. It had her feeling unprepared it was happening so fast. This entire time she was drowning out Pennywise happily asking her to come look. Blankly staring at the mini cocoon holding the glowing eggs at the end of the bed. Approaching the bundle seizing her heart up in fear when looking down to the many eggs.
The eggs had an inner glow to their core that breathed a bright orange. Their appearance lacked a normal hard shell covering outside. A smooth polished gemstone quality to them all shining in the light. Various tinted colors of dark purples to greys yet still retaining a transparency. Black worms curled in the cores lightened up by the breathing glows within each. Their size similar enough to a chickens egg able to fit in the center of her hand.
“I've never had them glow before.” Pennywise excitedly spoke over the eggs. The clowns good mood almost infectious. Dragging a smile out of her being happy for him, but not toward the eggs. Nervously tapping her fingers across the bed in how to form her words.
“sooooo, what now?” voice lacking any emotion.
“we wait for them to grow enough to eventually hatch.” smiling at the eggs he couldn't stop fawning over.
“do you know how long?” hiding her disinterest the best she could.
Being far too invested in the eggs he hardly noticed. “nope.”
her tapping fingers stopping so that she may better grasp the situation in thought. The eggs were here now and there wasn't much else to do. Compared to last night she felt lighter without the eggs. Her never ending craving for meat long gone. Wanting for the first time in months just a plain salad without a speck of meat touching it. When she stepped one foot off the bed she unintentionally grabbed Pennywise's attention.
“where are you going?” curiously asking while their newborns were right here.
“going to get food.” surprised his attention turned to her at all.
“want me to come help?”
“no, I'll be tossing a salad together. No cooking or cutting for it.”
“if you're sure.” leaving her to go off making food on her own for the first time In months. Sounding a lot less anxious over everything going on. Beverly suffering mixed feelings on him not following her every minute. Happy she got some space, but him being around only for the eggs possibly proven true. Coming down stairs to the kitchen she started up her salad. Ripping a fresh head of lettuce for the base in a large bowl.
Thinking over the plans she had been making since back in august. First step was to get a job to save up for an apartment. Back in her old job she was the model employee until she got too sick for the simplest of tasks. Based off that she was sure to be taken back after a call. Tossing the rest of her salad together she made the quick call. Explaining that she went through heavy treatment abroad, but was now back and healthy enough for work. They happily took her back with a returning spot to her old position.
“perfect. Now I need to get a computer to work on. My savings might have enough for a basic laptop.” finishing her salad quick to head out on her mini mission of separation. Taking one step out catching the clowns attention.
“heading out already?” asking from the front porch. Usually they headed out together around the afternoon, but that was back when the fair was in town. The celebrations of summer ending back in early august. Recently they had switched to the later hours of the day. Him hunting people in the darkened hours while she ate dinner in the warm diner.
“yes, I need to fetch a few things. I plan to come right back when I am done. Unless you want to come and hunt early.”
“no, I'll stay home to watch the eggs until you come back.” staying in the doorway to watch Beverly head off.
“alright, I won't take long.” walking her way to the town center. Entering a small corner shop filled with electronics that were lacking on the newest models. Derry wasn't up to date on many things out in the world. Displeased on what was on the shelf's noticeably coated in dust. Having not been touched In who knows how long without a switch out of newer models. Picking one that seemed the newest out of the small selection.
“guess it doesn't really matter. As long as it works and has a writing program.” buying the cheap laptop and a whole separate set up for internet. rushing back to the Neibolt house to set everything up.
“what's that?” the clown pointed to her bag of boxes.
“a computer and set up for internet. Is there a phone outlet upstairs?”
“no, but I can make one. Why need the computer?”
“I want to work again. I called my job and they took me back. Can you set it up in the guest room? Its best to keep work and sleep separate.”
“of course I can.” speaking confidently about the task. She acted like it was the most complex thing to do. “it will be ready by the time you reach the room.”
“perfect, thank you. I'll be working for a few hours.” doing as she said she would after setting everything up. Spending hours processing online forms. Signing forms of acceptance to pass future projects. Lots of boring paperwork needing to be done for the company. A warm sense of familiarity washing over her while working. Shutting down the laptop after a fulfilling days work completed. Beverly heading down for a quick dinner then head straight for bed.
Pennywise standing in the kitchen setting down a plate of fresh baked potatoes. “I made you a meal ahead of time. You can have some time with the eggs while I go hunt.”
“yep … thanks.” lacking the same excitement of spending time watching the eggs. Taking up the plate of baked potatoes covered in bacon, melted cheese, and sour cream. He left as she went upstairs to eat in bed next to the eggs. Looking over the beds end down at the shimmering clutch. Already noticing a great increase in their size doubling from when she first saw them. As large as turkey eggs in a single day had her question how big they'd get after a week.
“I don't get why he thinks you need to be watched. You're not about to wander off.” talking boredly down to the eggs between bites of food. At least she hoped they weren't about to wander off. Finishing up her plate by the time Pennywise returned. Curling up together under the warm covers separating them from the cold night air.
The next morning they checked on the eggs. Pennywise still far too excited over them to notice Beverly's increasing dread. The eggs were far more massive than last night. Comparing now to emu eggs in their size.
“uh, I need to go to work.” speaking so fast to rush out of bed it took Pennywise a moment to register what she said.
“don't you want breakfast?” calling to her from the bedroom.
“no” replying as she shut her office door. Hopping onto the laptop to send a quick pleading email. Asking, hiding her desperate begging, for a ahead payment for the month. Wanting the money as soon as possible for a new place to live. Anxiously working the time away to keep her mind off the eventual answering email. The ping notice of new mail causing her to jump she had been so tense. Opening it immediately to read that they had accepted her request for early payment. Sending it directly to her account for whatever she needed.
As soon as she read that she sped straight to the front door to go apartment shopping. Stopping short by the clown catching her fleeing.
“where are you going?” his voice was gentle in seeing how startled she was by him.
“looking for an apartment.” up front about what she was planning. “This is going really fast for me. I need some space, some air to breath away from it all.”
“you're leaving?” the disappointment in his voice hitting her hard.
“not far, I won't be leaving Derry.” making it out to not be so bad. “I'll be in one of the apartments within walking distance. keeping it easy to visit when I can.”
“ … do you want me to do anything?” saddened by this, but he promised not to hold her captive in the house. If ultimately she decided to leave Derry he wouldn't block her way either.
“no thanks, I'll handle everything from here.” waving goodbye out the door. Speed walking straight to the nearest apartments for availability. Taking the entire day to speak with multiple landlords. Touring every available place except for that one block of apartments. Her childhood home she couldn't stand the sight of as all the cruel memories flooded back. Some places she refused simply because she could see the roof of that particular apartment building from the view of a window.
Settling down on one grand apartment in view of the river flowing by. A place between walking distance of the town center and the Neibolt house. It was almost sundown when she signed the papers. Her growling stomach leading her to buy a dinner meal at the diner. Not long after sending her order in the clown appeared to sit next to her at their usual booth.
“you found a home?” tentatively speaking to her.
“yes.”
“I can give you anything you need.” keeping his tone gentle. “is there something wrong in the other house?”
“no, it's not that.” her own tone calmly gentle. “nothing is really wrong, I just need time to adjust. Having ... kids … , getting married, living together in the span of 2 months is extremely fast.” reassuring him the best she could. “I won't leave Derry, I promise.” truly thinking that. She didn't want to ditch him or necessarily the eggs. While also not wanting to be cornered by the parasites the day they do come into the world.
The plate of fried shrimp arriving next to a side of oysters surrounded by lemon wedges. Shifting the plates over to share them. Sipping her sweet tea when the clown gave her surprising news.
“they've been calling for you.” it almost had her choke on the mouthful of tea if she hadn't managed to roughly swallow.
“calling?! What?! They speak to you inside the eggs?”
“no.” the next news turning her pale. “they've hatched. They hatched a few hours ago.”
“already?!” she blurted out.
“yes.” nodding. “will you come back to see them today?”
Beverly swallowed a large gulp of tea hydrating her cottonmouth. Unsure of being ready to face the mini world eaters so soon. Then again she would eventually have to return to pack her things. May as well kill two birds using one stone. “I'll stay the night to see them. Then move into my new place tomorrow.” up front on her plans. The clown happy to hear she would come back, even if temporary.
Taking her time on eating the meal since her appetite had been spoiled. Passing the plate of shrimp over to the clown to finish. Drinking down the remaining oysters coated in squeezed on lemon. Hardly noticing the sour taste between the sweet oysters covered by refreshing sweet tea. Pennywise insisting on paying the bill despite her having more than enough to pay.
The walk home overly quiet under the few lit street lamps. Sun hidden behind the far tree line bearing only a highlighted orange glow at their edge. Under the first night stars the Neibolt house seemed so unfriendly as she entered. Nothing had truly changed between her and Pennywise to feel this way. It was due to those things arriving only after 2 days of existing on their own. What were they going to look like?
Ugly black spiders covered in thorny spines? Slimy worms covered in eyes? Viscous flesh eating leech like maggots squirming around? The further up the stairs she walked the more her horrified mind exaggerated. Stomach twisting in knots to the point she may vomit what she ate moments ago. Something fried not being the best of things to eat before this. Yet she wasn't expecting to come face to face with them so soon. Entering the bedroom alone to see the threaded cocoon lacking the breathing glow of orange light. Pennywise standing back down in the kitchen to give her personal time with them.
Here she was, ready to see the newly hatched parasites. What horrific slimy vermin did she bring into this world? Walking up to the cocoon for a look down into its core. Finding the sight greatly underwhelming from what she expected. Inside was a pile of circular fluff balls in a pile at the bottom. On each was a small line of scales separating one half of the fluff from the other side. If they were a little lighter they would look as if they were giant cotton balls. Not as big as a soccer ball, but bigger than a soft ball.
She stared in waiting for them to do something. Pennywise said they were calling her, but maybe not in a vocal sense. Could have been as some animistic high frequency talking only he could hear. In which case all the more she didn't care. Tired of waiting for something to happen, she decided to try one thing. If it did nothing then it was no big loss to her.
“hey?” she called down to the pile of cotton balls. Her eyes opening wide at the many small black eyes opening to the call. The cocoon suddenly swarming with life of many insect creatures uncurling themselves. Swarming around each other in a sort of squirming snake pile.
Resembling their dad in body structure aside from the layer of fluff coating their top halves. Similar red face markings lining their little jaws of needle teeth going over two pairs of eyes out of their total four pairs. 6 snake heat pits lining their rounded snouts clear of fur up to the back of their heads connecting to a mane of thicker fuzz. Flexible antenna looking like a mini pair of horns flexing forward in their great interest in her. Little praying mantis arms held close to their fluffy chest. Eight long spider arms along their most front half of the body. Followed by many legs on a more centipede like half flowing down to a poofy fantail hiding a pair of pincers. Lining down their spine a long section of back scales flexing forwards and back in excitement.
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They had a chorus of multiple sounds up to Beverly. Ranging from various cheeps, squeaks, and mews as if a herd of kittens were chasing baby birds. Trying their best to climb up the threading walls or each other to reach her. Failing each time they tried to her relief of not knowing exactly how'd they react to her. They could just be excited at seeing “food” visiting them. Although if they were calling her could that mean they'd also recognize her? They'd never seen her before now on top of no interactions.
“you definitely take after your dad.” almost whispering down to them. Leaving them to head for bed with the plans of packing tomorrow morning. Pleasant thoughts of being far away in her new place taking a much needed breather.
Out of view of the hatchlings they went quiet on their chirping. Still able to hear them skittering over each other in an attempt at climbing out. Laying down not for long when the chorus of cheeps started up again. Their loud calls keeping her from a peaceful nights rest. Annoyed by them she shuffled to the end of the bed to glare down at the tiny fluff balls.
They suddenly stopped their chirping under her angry glare coming into view. Frozen aside from their rounded black eyes blinking in looking up at her. Backing away to her sleeping spot, she learned quickly, was a mistake. Their chirping starting up again each time to repeatedly annoy her.
“what?!” huffing down at them. Receiving silent stares in response to her looking at them each time. “maybe you do want food.” sighing without any idea what they'd eat. If they had to eat human flesh they would certainly starve under her care. Making a trip down to the kitchen fridge for meat that wasn't frozen solid. Grabbing a few containers of sliced deli meat for sandwiches.
Returning back to pop open one container of thin turkey slices. “this will have to do. If you don't eat this then you'll have to starve.” picking up a slice to hold over the swarm. Watching them open their mouths as baby birds would waiting for food.
The slice dropped in instantly torn apart by their jaws. Returning to looking back up for more food to drop in. the display entertaining Beverly akin to those zoo shows throwing a whole chicken into a piranha tank. Dropping more slices to see them covered by the swarm in seconds. Eventually they must have gotten full by so many packages of meat. Slowly losing interest on each new slice presented into their den. Nesting down to rest by curling back up into the large cotton balls.
Beverly packed the rest of the deli meats away before heading to bed her self. Sleeping through the night until the early morning when the loud chirping started. Groaning in sitting up so early before her normal waking time. The clown hovering by the mini den of chirping hatchlings.
“sorry.” he apologized. “I tried quieting them down, but they won't listen.”
“what do they want? More food?” rubbing her tired face of lingering sleep.
“no, they want you.”
“ugh.” scooting to the end of the bed to look down at them. The chirping stopped again as they looked right up at her.
“I have been trying to feed them, but they won't take anything.” looking at them in worry.
“I did feed them a ton of turkey last night. They're probably still full.”
“you fed them turkey?”
“yes, they seem to be okay when eating it.” a glare forming on her face when looking up to him. “what were you trying to feed them with?”
“my diet.” not needing to go into further details.
“don't feed them that. If they do fine with regular meats were sticking with that.”
“what if they don't take it well?”
“if, after a few days, they aren't doing so well. Then feed them whatever you want.” climbing off the bed to make a fresh cup of morning coffee. The loud cheeping at her missing coming loud and clear from the bedroom. Long after the coffee was ready she stayed in the kitchen to avoid the fluff balls harassment. “guess I should start packing. Make some food for them in the meantime.” taking a whole frozen chicken out to defrost in hot water. Leaving that alone to go pack up stairs as the clown looked over the young.
His gaze following her around the room. Taking things back and forth to her bags. Leaving back down stairs for the chicken that would be defrosted by now. Taking the time to de-bone it for easy meat dropping. Wanting to avoid reaching into that piranha swarm for the rotten bones later. The sound of chopping snagging the clowns attention.
“want me to do that?”
“no, almost finished.” chopping the main body into quarters. Ripping the last bit of bone out to then throw the meat onto the plated pile.
“will you be coming on our evening walk?”
“umm … I have a lot of work to do.” making up an excuse.
“can you watch them for a little while, right now? While I go hunt for myself?” asking gently.
“yeah, don't worry about it.” able to tolerate the hatchlings for a little longer. He waved goodbye on his way out the door. Beverly walking up stairs holding the plate of raw chicken in hand. Checking the clock on her way she saw it was almost afternoon. Sitting at the end of her bed near the silent fluff balls staring at her. Picking up one slab of meat had them chirping, mouths open wide, for the fresh meat. Dropping it in the meat slab lasted longer than the turkey slices. Biting into a chunk they shook their heads to shred off pieces to swallow down.
Dangling one long piece slowly into the core of the swarm. Chuckling as they snapped to latch on to it. hanging for a moment before the meat broke away. Dropping the last slab of meat she went back to packing. The chirping fading in and out to the sounds of them shuffling around. Checking to make sure everything was packed away she had pulled out each drawer. Distracted up till she heard a small thud followed by light skittering across the wood floor.
Head whipping around to the now absolutely silent hatchling den. Fearing something happened she went over to check on them. Noticing immediately an empty spot in their once packed cluster. One of them had managed to get out. Panicking at where it had ran off to she searched under all the furniture for it. Freezing at hearing it squeaking on the bed in one of her open suitcases. Checking her bags she saw it struggling in one of her long sleeved shirts. Head sticking out the open wrist end as its body was stuck in the tight sleeve. unable to break free as it flopped around trying to bite what thing had caught it.
The hatchling went still under noticing its mothers angry glare. Letting out a wimpy peep noise at being caught. “At least they know the angry mom look when they see it.” she thought.
“some world eater you're going to be.” talking toward the thing helpless in a sleeved shirt. Cautiously taking a hold around the base of its head. Possibly not the best place to gently grab, but she wanted to make sure it couldn't bite her if it tried. Upon freeing it, it curled its long tail around her arm. Resting most of itself contently in her holding hand. Purring from the small contact she was giving it. She gave it a small pet and a scratch to it as she would a baby kitten. Raking her hand through the soft fluff covering over it. The small thing enjoying the vast attention it was receiving from its mother.
“not little monsters like I thought.” sitting down on the bed with it. “you've all been wanting moms attention is all.” thinking back on the many times they called for her. Receiving only angry glares to have them quiet down. A twinge of regret over her past actions handling them. “I should stay to be a better mom for you guys. Leaving you with Pennywise to raise alone isn't the best idea either.” standing again to put her things back where they were. Dropping her plan of moving out to stay and care for the living cotton balls.
_____________________________________
notes:
here be the babies! i imagine them sounding like how cheetahs chirp and squeak. if you've never heard a cheetah chirp before, heres a vid of their sounds. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RjqWFcwnq08
also i think i'll probably do only one more chapter, maybe two, then the story will be finished. =]
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fraglaunchingferal · 4 years
Text
Moments like heartbeats
It is one of those rare quiet days with Roo. He must be hurting something awful or trying his best not to lash out like he surely wants to. Pain needs an outlet after all and it will take whatever it can get, be it on a loved one or one’s own nerves or sanity. 
It’s terrible how the body can turn on itself really but Junkenstein lets Roo keep seated and stare off at something. He isn’t entirely sure what is going through the younger man’s mind but he spares Roo a kiss to the back of his head as Doc pulls the blanket more over lithe shoulders. 
Junkenstein leaves the room to go mull around the kitchen. He spends a decent amount of time there only to lean far enough to steal glimpses of Roo, checking to make sure he hasn’t left. It feels as if he hasn’t budged an inch and it’s starting to worry Doc. Maybe Junkroo’s just been fidgeting when he was busy but it feels doubtful. Sometimes movement just made everything feel worse. He understands this but he hates that Roo has to undergo it too. 
It’s with a dull hum that Doc leans back and finishes up his work. The last few ingredients added and he begins to pour stew into two bowls that don’t match. Each one steaming and he checks the hot plate to make sure he shut it off, leaving the rest to still simmer. Both bowls on sat on a slightly warped serving tray that easily holds them both as he takes a moment to fetch two spoons and hit the mini fridge he fixed up a while back to store the bitter mix of ingredients Doc has been trading hard to get but knows he will need to make another run to get more of if he wants to fight off more of the effects of the radiation clearly trying to work into his system. He would be a fool to think he was clear of it but for now symptoms are all he can treat. 
Two closed and already prepped containers are added to the tray that wobbles in mild protest but hold true. Doc takes it by the handles, looking it over once more before going out to find Roo still there though it feels like he might have fallen asleep or is just thinking with his eyes closed now. Difficult to tell as the boy does like to drool even when awake. 
Junkenstein kneels down and sets the tray in front of him, between them both, and carefully leans forward to take the end of Roo’s prosthetic, tilting the thin bit of sturdy metal to and fro to try and gently get his attention that food is ready. Days like these don’t need words but Junkenstein finds himself hoping that his actions can convey them for him. That he cares for his Firefly. That he hopefully knows Doc is trying to respect his needs and loves him deeply. He does expect a question about the drink but he’s ready to tell him it isn’t poisoned if he asks, though it might take like it, but it should help them both. 
Times like these are quiet but they remind Junkenstein of heartbeats.
The German smiles wearily as he leans back to his side of things and picks up a bowl to start with that. 
Heartbeats are generally only felt by one person until they let someone else close enough to listen to it, to maybe even feel it. Just because the moment is quiet does not mean the heart has stopped or any love was lost. The heart still continues to beat and although Junkenstein wants to voice his feelings, he feels confident enough to try and allow his actions to speak for him in moments like this. Moments where flowery words can not ease the pain but hopefully actions might.
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writingsofadream · 5 years
Text
Masterpiece | Part I
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Pairing : Yoongi x Reader
Story : He’s looking for heartbreak and inspiration, and you’re just looking for a new laptop.
Set during the writing and recording period of Love Yourself: Tear. Will involve angst, fluff, and smut. Multiple chapters to follow! 2.3k words in this one :)
♬ ♬ ♬ ♬ ♬ ♬ ♬ ♬ ♬ ♬ ♬ ♬ ♬ ♬ ♬ ♬ ♬ ♬
His hands were a flurry over the keys as he played each note, the individual chords striking through the otherwise silent air. The large dance studio was completely empty, apart from a man dressed in black playing the lonely piano in the corner. Moonlight shone in through the window, illuminating the floor around him and the Big Hit logo plastered to the wall. Another late night. Another song. 
Each key is like another piece of the puzzle to Yoongi. And each fits incorrectly. They bounce back at him disobediently, to the point where frustration builds and he slams down the top. The bang echoes monotonously. 
Yoongi brings his hands to his face, elbows resting on the cool, hard wood of the instrument. It agonises him to no avail, yet he returns every night. Working on songs for their new album was hard, yea, but even harder when he had no fucking inspiration. Breathing in deeply, he runs his hands through his jet-black dyed hair. He needs a drink. Time to head home. 
Pushing open the door to his room, he enters it silently as a mouse. The other members had no doubt been asleep for hours now, and Namjoon’s soft snoring resonates through their shared wall. He finds it soothing, having the same effect as familiar and calming white noise. Plunking down onto the freshly made bed, he sinks into the mattress a little as he sits perched on the edge. With a small grunt he pulls the Puma sneakers from his feet, followed by his socks. Keeping his sweats on, he pulls his shirt over his head as the night is somewhat warm, thanks to Taehyung’s incessant overuse of the heating system. That boy could live in the Sahara Desert and still complain that it was “a bit chilly, hyung”. Yoongi runs his hands through his hair again, swallowing dryly before reaching for the small cupboard compartment of the bedside table. Ah, rum. Exactly what he needed. 
Plodding into the kitchen, he pulls Jungkook’s coke from the fridge. He pours himself a glass, slowly and steadily. The drink looks all too appealing, half rum and half stolen soft drink. Replacing the bottle, the makes his way back to his room to avoid being caught red-handed. Jungkook didn’t take lightly to his snacks and drinks being stolen, Hoseok knew that all too well. What would he be without his friends, he though to himself as he swigged the drink. They were his family, his every moment. Everything he did, said, encountered. It all came back to something about them, and he was grateful for it. They’d made him a better person. But somehow, it wasn’t enough. Not enough to write a love song about anyway. 
Love Yourself. Their new album was the Tear part, that much they had decided. But Yoongi was yet to write his part. He’d only ever broken hearts in his life, and a few bones; though not his either. The fights he’d had he’d won, romantically they were emotionally and through words. In Daegu there’d been a few physical ones. Some kid that doubted his basketball skills then tried to fight him when he’d kicked the kid’s ass. He snorted back a laugh at the memory. He’d gotten in big trouble for that one, but he’d been young and hadn’t cared. Who would’ve? All the kids on his block got into fist fights, his mum should’ve just been proud he’d won. 
Suppressing a yawn, Yoongi set the glass onto his bedside table, mentally bookmarking a reminder to get rid of the evidence in the morning. No matter how many fights he’d won, he didn’t have a chance against Jungkook anymore. That kid? A muscle pig. 
Rolling over into bed, he pulled the covers up over him. Tomorrow he’d write the song, he was sure of it. He’d just ask someone else, get some more ideas flowing about heartbreak and shit. Maybe he could call an ex, he thought for a second, then decided firmly against it. 
___
You pulled the last of the coffee from the machine, seeing there definitely wasn’t enough left to keep you going. Housemates weren’t all they were cracked up to be, that was for sure. Rolling your eyes, you called out to the culprit at hand. 
“Sar? Why the fuck didn’t you refill the coffee after you used it all?” 
On que, your so-called ‘friend’ comes rushing out of her room, hurriedly doing up the buttons to her coffee shop uniform. 
“Shit, Y/N, my bad! I know we had that agreement, but I totallyyyyy forget! Whoopsie!” At this, she chucks you a half-assed smile before dropping it just as quickly as it had appeared. Turning back, he grabs her Gucci bag from the couch. If only she could make rent in time, you thought saltily to yourself. 
“I’ve gotta blast, Y/N. Have a good one, babes.” She throws a little wave your way before disappearing out the door in a rush of overpriced perfume and ugly green. The door bangs shut after her, and you almost let out a sigh of relief. Dealing with her at work on shared shifts was hellish, so you’d swapped it with someone else in a desperate attempt for some time away from her. And, judging by the clock on the kitchen wall, you had approximately eight hours before she made her way back into your life. 
Hopping off the barstool, your footsteps tapped on the cold tiled floor as you made your way into your one place of true solitude - your bedroom. Warm and inviting, your bed called you back to it but you resisted the urge. It simply wouldn’t be right to waste the day sleeping, especially with the big paper you had coming up. Seoul National University was a lot harder then you’d thought it would be, yet you were still infinitely grateful to be attending. It was one of the most prestigious universities in the country, and your parents had cried when you’d announced the news. Hell, you’d cried a fair bit too. Both out of happiness and sadness, you supposed. Melancholic, that was the feeling. Being so far from your family hurt, but it was your dream and you couldn’t exactly turn it down. 
Pulling out your laptop, you flicked the screen up waiting to be met by the glowing Apple logo. Nothing. Pressing the power button, you waited a little longer. Nothing. Impatient, you pressed it harder and repeatedly. Definitely nothing. Your six year old, hand me down MacBook had finally bit the dust. Fuck. How the hell were you going to pay for a new one? 
Slamming it shut, you tried not to burst out into various expletives for the sake of your neighbours and probably your own sanity. A brush against your leg brings your attention down to the carpet, and you’re happy for the distraction as you feel the tears prick at your eyes. 
“Hey, Lil Meow Meow.” 
Your unfortunately-named cat pricks his ears up at the noise of his name, giving you a small meow and another brush to your leg that unmistakably screamed “pat me, human.” Complying, you scratch the black and white cat in the spot just below his chin but before his chest, his absolute favourite spot. He starts purring, and you smile at the little animal that somehow makes every day just a little easier to cope with. 
“Time to go spend all my savings, Lil Meow Meow.” You mumble at the cat, who offers nothing more than a few more insistent purrs. 
__
Yoongi walked into the store, dressed in black from head to toe once again. With the hood of his Kendrick Lamar ‘DAMN’ hoodie pulled up and the black facemask covering his features, he hadn’t been recognised once. Which was fucking good, because he didn’t have any security with him either. The small electronics store was his favourite to go to, mainly because he knew the owner and could order stuff in discreetly and efficiently. A lot of the time you couldn’t trust the bigger brands or outlets; a bad experience had taught him that. He’d been completely ripped off, all because the people knew he had money. Well, his friend knew and didn’t give a shit. Which was why he came here instead. 
The small shop was tucked away down one of Seoul’s alleyways, and apart from the flickering sign that motioned it was ‘open’, people mainly walked straight by it without even noticing. Bad for his friend’s business, but good for Yoongi. 
“Sugaaaaa!” The blonde man behind the counter lit up at the sight of him, rising from his laid-back position on the small chair nestled beside the till. 
“Whatcha here for, my man?” The man raises an eyebrow at the question, waiting for Yoongi’s reply. 
“Hey, Chaen. Just a MacBook, thanks. Mine’s full and honestly, I can’t be fucked to clear it.”
His friend laughs at the answer, throwing his head back and shaking it simultaneously. 
“I can’t believe you, Yoongs. What I’d do with that kind of money, man…” Chaen shakes his head in amusement now, heading out the back to fetch his friend the last of the MacBooks he has in stock. 
__
The rain is heavier than you thought, and you find yourself desperately pulling your raincoat tight around you. 
“Shit!” You exclaim, as the hood flicks back in the wind and your hair is exposed to the wetness for a second. Jerking it back up, you finally reach the alleyway that your phone is displaying through a water droplet-covered screen. Naver had recommended it to you, apparently a pretty good place to find new and refurbished MacBooks. Glancing to your left, you see a small purple neon sign. It flashes the promising word ‘OPEN’ at you, and you make for the door in a hurry to get out of the city’s rain. Pushing the door open, the small bell rings as you do. A man in black is standing at the counter, ominously hiding his hair and body in the dark hoodie. His black jeans are tight on his legs, leading to slightly damp black Puma sneakers. Taking off your raincoat, you turned away from the stranger to hang it on the coat stand by the door. Shaking your head a little, your slightly damp hair fell against your face in what you could only imagine was highly unflattering. When you turned back, the stranger was facing you. 
His black facemask was overly uninviting, as was his general demeanour. He stood in a cold, strong way, like an immovable rock. His eyes were glistening in the dull light of the shop, and you felt a shiver run down you that had absolutely nothing to do with the weather. 
“Do you..work here?” Your question incites a chuckle from the stranger, who pulls down his facemask to speak to you. He’s handsome. Really handsome. Then he replies to you, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. 
“Nah, but the guy who does is about to come back.” He nods his head to the door labeled ‘back room’, and you realise that must be where this dingy, small shop’s owner must be. 
“Oh…thanks.” You swallow, unsure of what to say. He breaks the small silence quickly, motioning with a hand to the spot at the counter by his side. Scurrying up, you stand awkwardly next to him. He smells good, and his hand is resting on the wood of the desk inches away from you. You can’t help but notice his long, slender fingers, veiny and attractive. And on one of those long fingers is a ring, sitting on the index. It’s silver and relatively plain, but you can tell straight away it’s expensive. It has the shine to it that only expensive jewellery has, with not a single scratch or bronzing to be seen. If he was rich, why was he shopping in here? 
You’re jerked from your thoughts and the growing silence by the sound of a swinging door, accompanied by who you can only assume is the owner. He’s blonde and a little chubby, though his face seems friendly and immediately puts you at ease. 
“Here you go, Min. Last one I’ve got, and only 65,000 won.” The stranger next to you smiles, and opens his mouth to speak. You beat him to it. 
‘What? No, I need it!” You exclaim, bringing your hands down on the box with an audible thump. Both men turn to look at you, surprise clear on their faces. 
“I’m sorry?” The stranger’s question is cool and emotionless, and he cocks an eyebrow with his question. The store owner just stands there staring at you, his furrowed brow confused.
Shit. Now you need to rationalise that.
“My laptop’s broken. I have a paper, Seoul university, I can’t fail and it’s hard and I don’t have a lot of money so I can’t buy one brand new and the taxi ride here was expensive enough and that ring looks like it cost a pretty penny and you see, I NEED that laptop!” Out of breath, you stare the stranger down with your eyes, only to see amusement in his. He chuckles, then pushes it your way.
“What’s your name?” His question catches you off guard, having expected an argument to follow your outburst. 
“What?” Realising your surprised answer-question sounds rude, you hurriedly correct yourself. “Y/N. I’m Y/N.” He bites his lip a little, and something deep in your stomach flickers for a second. 
“Tell you what, Y/N, you can have the laptop. In fact, I’ll buy it for you.” His hand pushes it even further towards you, and you look at it questioningly. 
“Wait…what?” 
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