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bemyparabataiintheshadowworld · 3 years ago

Text

A Shadowhunter?

Type: One shot about Jace from Shadowhunters Rating: Rated G Word Count: 2800+ Enjoy!

She sat down at the table, pulling her laptop out of her bag. Taking a sip from her freshly made coffee as her laptop started up. She took out her pen that was made for her laptop and she started to write. She also needed to do research, just thinking about it she sighed. She finally pulled her attention off her writing and started to get to work. She finally finished her coffee as she was close to finishing her work. Her mind was still wandering off, she sighed and leaned back in her chair. She pushed through and finally finished her work, she returned to the counter. She ordered another cup of coffee and also a sandwich. She leaned against the counter as she waited for her food. She saw a few people come in quickly. She got her food and made her way back to her table. She shut her laptop down and shoved it back in her bag so she could enjoy her food. As she took her last bite someone walked past the table and slipped a note on it. "Get out now, while you still can," the note read. She was taken back by this note and she didn't know what was going on. She looked towards the guy who slipped the note on the table, he had a worried look on his face. She gathered her things and made a quick exit through the back door. She didn't know what was going on nor did she want to know. She made her way onto the main street, minding her own business. She made her way towards her apartment when she had a strange feeling that someone was following her.

"Thank you for leaving," he said. "What?" She turned right into him. "I didn't want you to get hurt," He said. "And you are?" She questioned. "I'm Jace," he smiled. "How do I know you?" She looked at him. "You don't" He nodded slightly. "Oh ok, should I?" She asked. "Maybe" I could see the smirk grow on his face. "So why did I have to leave the cafe?" She said, "It's complicated but doesn't worry everything is ok" he spoke. "Ok" She shuffled things in my purse as I searched for my keys. "May I come in?" he asked. "Should I trust you?" She looked at him. "You should," he nodded.

She opened up her apartment door and nodded for him to enter. She entered behind him and closed the door, making sure it was locked. She set her back down on the couch and slipped off her shoes. He followed her example and took off his shoes. He sat down on the couch and She sat in the chair, things got quiet. She started to question why she let him in. She admits that he was good looking but that didn't mean she could trust him.

“So why all the tattoos?” She questioned as she broke the silence. “They are ruins” he looked towards me. “Don't try to make them sound fancy, they are tattoos” She rolled her eyes. “You don't understand, the legends are true,” he said. “legends?” She questioned. “Werewolves, vampires, shadowhunters,” he said. “I never heard of a shadowhunter,” She said. “That's because we protect the mundane,” he said. "So I guess that makes me mundane?" She questioned him. "Yes you are" he nodded slightly. "And what do you exactly protect us from?" She looked at him. "Demons mainly but also the downworlders as well" he looked at me. "Downworlders? like a vampire?" She questioned. "Yes, like the vampires" he nodded slightly. "What if I said I don't believe you?" She looked at him. "You don't have too" he smirked as he looked at her. "So I'm supposed to believe some random guy from a cafe that I randomly let into my apartment?" she asked. "Well if you didn't trust me or felt safe around me then you wouldn't have let me in," he said. "That is true but I'm not sure about the stories you are telling," She said. "That's fine," he smiled. "Within time you will," he said. "Would you like something to drink?" she asked. "Sure, what do you have?" he asked. "Water, I could make some tea. I do have adult drinks but are you over 21?" she asked as she stood up from the chair. "Are you serious?" he chuckled slightly. "I don't know," she said as she walked into the kitchen.

He walked into the kitchen with her, leaning against the counter as he watched her. She reached up on her tippy toes trying to reach a glass. He came behind her, grabbing her hips slightly lifting her. She grabbed the glasses and he softly put her down. She turned to face him, his hands still on her hips. She gently bit her lip as she looked at him. He placed his hand on her chin and rested his forehead against hers. She leaned up slightly allowing her lips to touch his gently. He kissed her softly, moving his hand against her neck. She dropped the glasses in her hands, as they broke on the floor.

"Shit," she said. "Are you ok?" he asked. "Yea I'm fine" she took a deep breath in. "Are you hurt?" he questioned as he crouched down to pick up the broken glass. "I don't think so," she said as she bent down to help him. "I see blood," he said as he pushed her pant leg up. "It cut you," he said. "I guess it did," she said as she started to panic as she saw the blood. "Hey" he stood up and cupped her face in his hand. "Just breathe," he said. "Sorry," she said. "Shhh just breathe," he said. "Ok" she nodded as she took a few deep breaths in. "Come here," he said as he placed his hands on her hips, picking her up and placing her on the counter. "How bad is it?" she asked. "It's not bad," he said as he grabbed a paper towel and placed it on the cut. "Do I need stitches?" she looked at him. "No you will be fine," he said as he cleaned up the cut and bandaged it up. "Thank you," she said as she watched him. "No problem," he said as he cleaned up the mess. "I don't do well with blood, '' she admitted. "That's fine," he said as he moved closer to her. "But thank you," she said as she pulled him closer to her.

He rested his hands on her legs as he looked at her. She leaned in and kissed him softly again, placing her hand against his chest. He smiled against her lips as he placed his hand against her chin. She rested her forehead against his as she looked at him. She pulled away from him as she heard a knock on the door. She got down from the counter and answered the door. It was her sister, she opened the door and allowed her to enter. She turned to look back at the kitchen but he was gone.

"Where did he go?" she asked. "Who?" Janet asked. "Oh sorry, how are you?" she said as she looked at Janet. "Liz, what's going on?" Janet asked. "Nothing," she said. "So who were you looking for?" Janet asked as she walked into the kitchen. "Nobody," she said. "If you say so" Janet rolled her eyes. "So are we going out tonight?" she asked. "Of course," Liz said. "Ok then why aren't you ready or even attempting to get ready?" Janet asked. "I was just finishing up with some work, I'll meet you there," she said. "Alright, remember drinks start at 9," Janet said as she walked to the door. "I'll be there," Liz said as Janet left. "I need to get some sleep," Liz said to herself as she made her way upstairs.

She got into the shower and washed her hair quickly. She got out of the shower and wrapped a towel around her. Making her way to her closet, quickly picking out something to wear. She sat down in front of her mirror and started to do her hair. She looked down for a quick second and when she looked back up at the mirror he was standing behind her.

"Shit," she said as she jumped. "Sorry," he said as he sat on the bed. "I thought you left," She said. "No, just deglammerd," he said. "I'm not even going to ask" she rolled her eyes and went back to doing her hair. "A shadowhunter thing," he said. "Ok I just think you are good at hiding but what are you hiding from?" she looked at him. "Just to make it easier for you," he said. "Easier for me?" she asked as she got up. "Turn your head," she said as she started to get dressed. "I didn't think you wanted to introduce me to your sister,'' he said as he looked away. "A guy you just met," he said. "True but this is my apartment I can have whoever I want over' she said as she finished getting dressed. "I know, I didn't know," He said. "What is deglammering?" She asked. "It's a rune, basically I can make myself invisible," He said. "Oh," she nodded. "Where are you going tonight?" he asked. "A club with my sister, have a few drinks," she said as slipped her shoes on. "Mind if I come along?" he questioned. "Wait since you can be invisible, did you just creep me in the shower?" she looked at him. "I'm not a creep," he said as he stood up. "I wouldn't invade someone's privacy," he said. "I was just asking," she said. "I'll give you some space," he said as he walked downstairs. "Who said I needed space?" she asked as she followed him. "It just seems that way," he said as he opened the door. "Wait maybe you can show up later at the club?" she asked. "Do you want me too?" he looked at her. "Yea I do," she smiled. "Just don't show up when I do," she said. "Alright," he chuckled slightly as he left.

She left her apartment and left in her car. Heading towards the club, of course, her sister was blowing up her phone. She rolled her eyes and finally pulled up to the club. She parked and made her way inside, finding Janet at the bar. Liz ordered her drink and leaned against the bar. Taking a few sips as she looked out towards the dance floor.

"Once again, who are you looking for?" Janet asked. "No one," Liz said as she took another sip. "Sure," Janet said as she rolled her eyes. "When I have something or someone to show off you'll know it," Liz said.

Liz placed her drink down on the bar and went onto the dance floor. She started dancing, swaying to the beat of the music. Jace walked into the club and of course, he turned heads. All the ladies seemed to be drawn to him but he pushed past them. Liz caught his eye and he made his way onto the dance floor. Grabbing her hips and dancing with her. She smiled and leaned in, kissing him softly as they moved to the beat of the music. Once the music stopped they went back to the bar. While Liz was dancing someone slipped something into her drink without anyone noticing.

"Want a drink?" Liz asked as she picked up her drink. "I'll get one," Jace nodded and ordered a drink for himself. "Good" she smiled as she took a sip from hers. "Who is he?" Janet asked. "Jace, this is my sister," Liz said. "Nice to meet you," Jace said. "You too," Janet said.

They started drinking together, Jace noticed someone watching Liz. He tried to ignore it as he just wanted to focus on Liz and enjoy the night. He placed his arm around her waist as it seemed that she was getting drunk. She rested her head against his chest.

"Something isn't right?" Janet said. "What do you mean?" Jace asked. "She only had one drink, she's not a lightweight," Janet said. "Do you think someone spiked her drink?" Jace said. "I think so," Janet said.

Before Jace could respond Liz fell, he grabbed her helping her stand. He tilted her head up and looked into her eyes, they were glazed over. He knew someone spiked her drink, so he picked her up and left the club. Placing her in his car as Janet rushed out of the club.

"Where are you taking her?" She asked. "Probably to a hospital," Jace said. "I don't know you, so I'm not allowing you to take my sister," She said. "She needs to go to the hospital," Jace said. "How do I know it wasn't you who spiked her drink?" Janet crossed her arms. "Stop," Liz said as she opened the car door. "I trust him," she said before she started to puke.

Jace grabbed her hair and held it back. Rubbing her back as she threw up on the street. Once she finished he wiped her mouth with a tissue. Helping her lay back in the car and closing the door. He didn't even look back at Janet as he got into the car. He took off before Janet could do anything and he headed straight for the hospital. He pulled into the emergency and got out of the car. Picking her up and taking her inside, and they took her straight back. He went back to the car and parked it before entering the hospital. They allowed him to go back to the emergency room so he could be with her. He wasn't prepared to see what he saw, they were working on her. She was crashing and for once he couldn't help. They pulled the curtain so he couldn't see, the nurse pushed him into the waiting room.

"Alec I need you," he said into the phone. "What's going on?" Alec asked. "There were demons," Jace said. "Where?" Alec asked. "Doing what?" Alec said. "In the club, the one downtown," Jace said. "Drugging people," he said. "I'll see the reports and get back to you," Alec said. "Do it fast," Jace said before hanging up.

He paced the waiting room, jumped up at any doctor he saw. The minutes turned into hours without any word on how Liz was. He sat in the chair resting his head down in his hands. Alec showed up at the hospital and pulled Jace outside.

"What are you doing here?" Alec asked. "I was with one of the girls who was drugged," Jace said. "How is she?" Alec asked. "No word yet, did you find out?" Jace asked. "Yea we found out, it's being dealt with," Alec said. "Good," Jace said. "Why does this one girl matter?" Alec asked. "Because she does," Jace said. "Why?" Alec asked. "Just know she does, that's all you need to know," Jace said. "Alright," Alec rolled his eyes. "Thank you," Jace said as he went back into the hospital.

The doctor came up to him as he walked inside. Liz was alright but she needed to stay overnight. The doctor led him back to her room. She was still asleep as Jace walked in, taking her hand in his. He leaned down and kissed her forehead before sitting by her bedside. He stayed all night just watching her sleep. He just started to nod off to sleep when she woke up in the morning.

"Jace?" she whispered. "I'm here," he said as he sat up. "Where am I?" she asked. "You are in the hospital," he said. "Why?" she looked at him. "Because someone drugged you at the club," he said. "Am I ok?" she asked as she sat up. "Yea you are" he kissed her hand softly. "You didn't have to stay all night," she said. "I wanted to make sure you were ok," he said, "Thank you," she said,

He stood up and kissed her forehead again as the nurse came in. She was getting released from the hospital, he left the room so she could get dressed. He could hear fighting down the hall so he ran down to see what was going on. There were demons in the hospital, wanting everyone they drugged to be dead. Jace started to fight them and killed them with his blade. He killed the last demon and he turned to go back down the hallway when he saw Liz.

"Are you ready to go?" he asked. "You killed them," She said. "Wait, you can see them?" He looked at her. "You killed them," she said.

He was confused because mundanes cant see demons. She wasn't a shadowhunter so he started to question what she was. He stood there staring at her but then she rushed back to her room. Grabbing her things and leaving the hospital before he could ask her again. He snapped out of it and rushed behind her but she was gone. He made his way to his car and drove straight to her apartment. Everything that was hers was gone, it was like she vanished into thin air.

#Shadowhunters #Shadowhunters Imagines #Shadowhunters Imagine #Shadowhunters Preference #Shadowhunters Preferences #Shadowhunters Writing #Shadowhunters Writings #Shadowhunters Blurb #Shadowhunters Blurbs #Jace Wayland

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blackbutlerfandomnerddomain · 4 years ago

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Title: Just Gotta Stay Calm

Word Count: 3966

Fandom: Gravedale High

Ship/Pairing: Vinnie Stoker/Reggie Moonshroud

Tags: First Dates, Vampire Family, Tradition, Awkward Crush, Vampire Boyfriend, Werewolf Boyfriend, First Kiss, Dorks in Love, Awkward Dates, Boys in Love, Friendship/Love

Warnings: First Works of the fandom, swearing(small), awkward, fluff

Vinnie let in a breath as he examines himself in the special vampire mirror on his bedroom wall. He quietly checks every inch of his face closely before opening his mouth to check his fangs.

Good, He thought with a charming grin to himself. No pimples, no stuff in my teeth, no flaws in sight. Vinnie went to his dresser and takes out some cologne he bought specifically for today, a scent of calming forest rain, and sprayed some on his neck and a little bit in his shirt. Not a lot just the basic stuff to seem simple and posh.

Vinnie and Reggie are finally getting themselves a date. A real, really real, true date. Just the two of them. And Vinnie could be more happier then this moment!

Vinnie has been meaning to ask his best friend out for quite some time, since the first moment he noticed his feelings were a bit more then platonic bashful moths in his chest and stomach actually. It took him a total of two full months to completely wrap his head around the fact that he - Vincent "Vinnie" Stoker - was wings over heels in love with the world's one and only Reggie Moonshroud. However, it took him nearly a YEAR to get up all the courage to ask the boy out. Honestly, if it weren't for his friends this day might've never happened.

The young vampire left his bedroom and hurries down his stairs, only to be stopped by the voice of his old man, "Vincent, can you come here please?" Vinnie let out a silent shutter as he mentally cursed himself.

He slowly turned his body fully towards the older vampire sitting in his velvet chair with a pipe in between his lips, small puffs of the smoke emerging out the ends. The teen slowly walked over. "Y-Yea pops?" His voice rarely stammers when speaking, hasn't since he was in the 6th grade, at least not when he nervous beyond his wits like when he tried to get the chance to ask Reggie out and plan out what to do on said date.

"Are you going to go on your date soon?" Asked Mr. Stoker. Vinnie nods some in reply, his hands fumbling into his jacket's pockets. This was not what he wanted to do. The older vampire stood up from his chair, pipe still puffing out smoke, his eyes focus out the window of the chilly autumn gray skies. He takes a puff before continuing, "I want to give you some simple advice for your first date Vincent. Vampire to vampire." Vinnie practically shrunk his head down into his coat's collar.

Defiantly not what he wanted to do. . .

"That's okay pops, I got it covered-" He began as he slowly creeped his way to the front door. "The year was 1880. . ." Vinnie bite back a groan, knowing very well that once his dad starts it's hard to stop him. "I was simply a beginning apprentice to the one and only Dracula. Mostly paper work and long mornings. I thought I had everything cut out for me, a great job and nice home, until I realized I was missing something important when I first saw your mother wandering through the local cemetery." Mr. Stoker smiles fondly as he light strokes his black beard. "She is my first and only love as I'm sure you know. And it took me decades to ask her on a single date, I feared she might not want a simple vampire apprentice who barely knows how to turn into a bat, but alas she surprise me with a yes." Vinnie nods, "Yeah yeah I know. And you two spent many years together, got married, had two kids, and lived happily ever after. Dad, I know the story pretty well you know."

He didn't mean to interrupt his father's tale, he just already has his nerves up through the roof and he just want to hurry for the plans. His father turned and looked at his son right in the eyes as he spoke, "I know you do. I'm just trying to tell you that last night I was certain to give you some advice for your date, a vampire tradition my father gave me as his father gave him and his father so forth. I know you're nervous and it's perfectly natural. Just remember, be courteous. Be engaging. And above all, have a plan." Vinnie nodded. "Don't worry pops, I got it covered. Now can I go and do the date itself?" He asked the older vampire, who nodded to his please. He didn't wait any few seconds to open the front door and flying off with a snap.

This will go well, He thought to himself as he feels the wind go through his black hair. Reggie will enjoy the date I have planned for us. This is a piece of blood orange pie. Vinnie smiled as he spaces out on today's plans. Slowly, though, his brain began to swim to a memory of when he got the nerves to finally make that choice he's been walking back and forth on. . .

~ ~ ~

Vinnie taps the heels of his shoe onto the cold hard floor of the school's classroom as he watches the clock tic away, his eyes going to the clock and to the werewolf just a desk away from him. Today was the day, Vinnie told himself throughout the hours. Today I'm going to do it. As if proving his luck, the bell rings out around the school, signalling everyone to grab their stuff and hurry the Hell out of there for the weekend. Vinnie stood onto his feet, catching Gil and Sid giving him a thumbs up as they run out the classroom, and looks over at Reggie who is still putting his stuff away.

The vampire took a breath in and walked his way over to the red head's desk, his feet feeling kind of heavy as he gets closer. Be cool Vinnie, just do it. "Hey Reg." His voice called out suddenly, the rest of his body slowly just going with the flow. Reggie turned his head and smiled up at his friend. "Hey there Vinnie. You usually are gone by now, is Mr. Schneider Sir seeing you after class again?" He asked as he puts his books away in his bag. Vinnie smiles warmly, he enjoys Reggie's voice. The way his small lisp happens between the small gap of the front of his teeth. The way his voice cracks sometimes in the right moments. Just generally how comforting it is...

The vampire quickly shook his head when he finally notices Reggie is standing up and looking at him with cocoa brown eyes that warm up Vinnie's dead chest, "No no. I just wanted to know...if...um...i-if you don't mind me asking...I uh..." "Yes Vinnie?" Reggie pressed on. Honestly, it's like he knows what he's doing to me. Vinnie took a gulp from his dry mouth before he spoke a retry, "I just wanted to know...if...if...well...if you're free this weekend? Maybe...we could...go out?" He didn't know if he sounded needy or not but he didn't care, he finally said it!

Reggie blinked a few times before replying, "Of course we can hang out Vin. We often times do already." "No, Reggie, I meant...go out...like a...date...?" Vinnie was so scared to look at Reggie in the face yet he has to in order to watch his reaction. And boy was it a reaction... His cute wolf ears were perked down in a way his shyness shows, hard to tell but behind that fur his cheeks were very rosey and red, just looking at him gave Vinnie so much heat on his face he for sure thought he was going to die.

~ ~ ~

Vinnie chuckled softly when Reggie's face on that day came to mind.

Well, yeah, the reply was a day late but nevertheless he said yes. And the day has finally came.

Vinnie soon landed at Reggie's place, a pretty big home of four stories with a even bigger yard surrounded it of 6 aches each side. He knew Reggie's family owned a big home for such a big family but he honestly wasn't expecting something so... human dream life. A white picket fence wrapping around the areas of land, green grass in perfect height, the house painted in a nice paint of soft blue with the windows having a white coat to the edges, a cute porch sticking out from the big dark brown oak made front door, and to fit so perfectly a nice little porch swing with a small coffee table. In all honesty neither Vinnie nor Reggie been to each others' houses despite being friends for years. Always staying at the dorms the school gave them for half the week.

The vampire slowly made his way to the porch and gently pulled the rope that rings the door bell loudly it echos around him and to the forest not far from the house itself. He tripled checked in his head the plans of the date as he waits a few seconds before the door opened and Reggie's head popped into view. "Hey Vinnie." Reggie said with a smile and opened the door already for him to step out. "Hey there Reg-" Vinnie nearly chocked on his words upon seeing Reggie. He wasn't wearing anything out of his comfort zone but something Vinnie was expecting obviously... Let alone something his heart was ready for. There standing in front of him with the shine of the afternoon sun glimmering a special effect through the tree leafs Reggie wearing a typical white button-down shirt and well ironed dress pants but wears also a well knitted beige and blood red pattern pullover sweater vest and a black Letterman jacket with a big red R stitched to his chest's right side, his hair combed in a messy side bangs style to the left side of his face. Honestly, Vinnie doesn't know if this was more cute or sexy and he was pretty scared of both. "I-I could change if you want..." Reggie stated, snapping Vinnie out of his daze to realize he's been staring holes into the poor werewolf. "No no you're okay Reg. Just uh...caught me off guard is all. It's cool." Vinnie spoke up with his hands up in defense.

Reggie giggles some, causes Vinnie's undead heart to for sure jumble in beats like a drum.

The first stop of this little date for the two monsters was a nice little fly over the town to the date's main destination. Reggie clings to Vinnie from behind, his face so close to his their cheeks are barely touching softly, his eyes watching the town below them. "Gee Vinnie, this is beautiful." He whispered but Vinnie heard it very well, his warm breath gently dancing across Vinnie's ear, his cheeks warming up in a soft shade of pink, a smile appearing on the vampire's lips. If anything, if he had a chance to say it, Reggie was the most beautiful thing to Vinnie's eyes. Though as a sad as it had pained him he knew he would crash into something if he doesn't focus.

His eyes scanned around the area before carefully landing in front of a cafe looking place. Reggie looked around the place when he climbed down from the vampire's back as he tucked in his wings. "Um... Vinnie." Reggie mumbled softly as he dragged his feet closer to Vinnie. Vinnie let out a hum, "Yeah Reg?" "Correct me if I'm wrong but this is a human cafe is it not?" Indeed it was. "Yeah. I figured to have a nice bite here for a change." "True it's just... don't you rather want to go to Ms. White's Diner? It's one of your favorites right?" Vinnie had to fight back the urge of going to his favorite 50's diner and share a monster shake with Reggie, he had a plan and he's sticking to it. He gently takes his paw and said, "This is just as good Reg, promise. Plus they serve your favorite here. Trust me." Reggie looked at the place and at Vinnie, seemed to be small on numbers of humans... So it could be okay right?

The two monsters entered the cafe and walked it's way to a table right in the center. The place was nice, clean, quiet, cute, and had a nice nature aesthetic with potted plants hanging from the ceiling and the smell of coffee and tea with some sweets filling your sense of smell. "This place is nice." Reggie said, his eyes focused on every little detail around him. The V-Man couldn't help but smile proudly, the date's going so well so far.

A waiter walks over to their table with a notepad and spoke to the two teenage monsters, "Afternoon gentlemen. What can I get you for drinks?" Vinnie opened the menu. "I'd like a black coffee with a side of milk creamer." The waiter nodded and looked at Reggie waiting for his answer. The werewolf quietly looked through the menu, his eyes widening like space saucers. "O-Oh my...Um...w-water would be fine..." The waiter wrote the orders down before hurrying to the back. Reggie looked at Vinnie with a raised brow, "This place is expensive Vinnie. They don't even serve your favorite drinks here. And I think you need it, you look ill..."

Vinnie knew Reggie was worried, he can hear it in his voice, but he can't simply explain it... Since the night before last he hasn't had a drop of blood to nibble a sip from due to how stressed and nervous he was getting over asking Reggie out and planning out this perfect date. Black coffee was the best he could get to that bitter goodness. And if not, the creamer would do the trick. Still, he knew he can't say all that to Reggie, not to seem not cool in front of his crush but also because he doesn't want the werewolf to feel bad or blame himself. Instead he just smiles his traditional smile and leaned back in his chair as he coats his voice with soothing calmness, "It's fine Reg. Everything fine actually. I just... had a big batch during breakfast and need the coffee here is good as I'm told. Plus, the money, don't worry. I got it covered." He finishes with a wink and another smile which caused Reggie's shoulders to calm down slightly.

After a few more seconds the waiter returned with their drinks and a notepad still in hand, "Here is your black coffee with a side of milk creamer and your glass of water sirs. May I interest you into something to eat?" Vinnie glances at the man's meaty neck and silently licked his fang out of sights, his brain wracking him inside his skull to try and not accept the urge to chomp down onto that neck and drink up. His hand quickly grabbed the coffee cup as soon as it was set and took a big gulp of it. Bitter. Not as bitter but still helps a little. He thought, feeling his nerves calm down a bit more. He glances over at Reggie and smiles, "Why don't you order first? I'll follow after." Reggie fixes his glasses and looked over the menu, a few times his eyes peeking at Vinnie as if asking for his help. "G-Gee...there's a lot of good options... Um..." He pondered out loud, Vinnie could see the human tapping his pen in a annoyance type manner. He bite down on his bottom lip some to fight back his new urge to range his neck. Before the urge could happen for real, Reggie's voice rang out to Vinnie's ears, "I-I guess I can have the Pea & Carrot Soup with the Greek Salad as the side?" "And you sir?" Vinnie had to remember how to talk before he took a quick glance at the menu before blurting out his order, "I'd like a French Onion Soup." And like before the man walked away after writing the orders down.

Vinnie noticed Reggie seemed more awkward and fidgety then his usual form. "Everything alright Reg?" Vinnie asked, his voice truly worried. He truly is worried for Reggie. Maybe he caught that waiter's rudeness towards them because of their race? Maybe it's the fact it's clearly two boys out doing things beyond friends? The vampire's head is just about to explode over the thoughts on what could be wrong with his Reggie- My Reggie? Vinnie thought of having Reggie of his very own before... I mean it did sound nice to him but would Reggie be down to being...

Reggie softly shook his head with a mumbled, "It's nothing, really..." But Vinnie knew something's been bothering his pal. Maybe... Vinnie felt sick thinking this, Maybe he's not comfortable being on a date with me... Before he knew it the food had arrived but the two didn't seem in the mood to enjoy it... Vinnie gulped down the rest of his coffee and stared down at his dish.

Great, my nerves are all over the place now and Reggie ain't having a good time... He thought as he watched Reggie gently nibble on his soup and salad, the two barely having one or two small conversations. This date is going terrible...

The two left the cafe quietly and quickly after paying for the bill. The two were still pretty silent. Reggie broke this awkward pause in the air with a smile, "The food was pretty good Vinnie." Vinnie doesn't reply. "Vinnie..?" Suddenly, the second monster on this date let out a groan like sigh before slumping his body down a grass area in the side walk, "That stupid waiter! 50 bucks and all he had to do is make it nice!"

Reggie tilt his head at this and quietly asked, "What do you mean...?" There was a pause when Vinnie looked away with no answer, causing it to click to the smarter of the two. "Vinnie Stoker, did you pay a human waiter for our date?" Vinnie sighed, "Not just paid Reggie, I paid the guy $50 to hold off any other reservations so it can be just us... I know you don't like really crowded places but that guy ruined it. I wasted 50 from my allowance just to have a guy be rude to you." Vinnie covered his face with his palms. "I'm sorry Reg...I really am..." Surprising Vinnie, Reggie grabbed his hand and pulls him up before guiding him somewhere.

"Hey Reg, where we going?" He asked, but his question fell on deaf ears as the werewolf still guided him silently. Suddenly the vampire began to feel a new kind of nervous. Was Reggie mad? Was he going to yell at him for bribing a human? Does he know he hasn't been drinking his daily sips of blood? He felt sick at the ideas of any of those being true and he blew this date... His one chance... And he blew it major time... There might not even be a second chance in this... "Look Reg..." Vinnie started, hanging his head low in shame. Reggie stopped him, "You didn't have to do any of that Vinnie. I would be perfectly fine going to any place we usual go." Vinnie did not want this date to be ruined. He did not want his friendship to be tainted. All Vinnie wanted to do was do what he planned, even if it was sudden...

"I like you Reggie!"

Reggie stopped suddenly and whipped his head around so fast he must've felt dizzy. No turning back now huh? Vinnie thought, taking a deep breath in, "I've always liked you Reg... And I mean really like you... Like...Like... I always get happy in the mornings because I get a chance to be near you at school, it's the only reason why I don't ditch as often. And when you're not there I feel sad...so sad I feel sick... I often re-read the messages we send back and forth after school because I miss talking to you that much... A-And that time when I was running for School President and you were helping me... Reggie, I felt so happy just being around you...seeing you so happy at what you were doing... I know this isn't stuff you want to hear instead of a apology...but I swear to you it's truer then true Reggie... I really like you... I've liked you for so long...I don't know when but I know when I figured it out... when you were fallin from the sky and I was running to you... All that's been runnin' around my head was "I can't let him go"... Reggie... you matter to me so much the idea of you not here with me is killing me..."

Vinnie was so scared to look up at his friend, scared he made it worst... "I just...I know this date ended up bad... but I-" Vinnie's words were cut short when he lifted his head to finally face his nerves, quickly his lips were covered by the soft fur of Reggie's lips. The teen vampire felt his undead heart beat for miles and miles as every second slowly passes by between them, his eyes widen more then the usual wide but slowly his body began to melt by the warmth of Reggie's lips and they slowly blinked to a close while his lips push pressure back into the kiss.

The kiss lasted about a extra minute before the two pulled away, Vinnie's ears catching a soft small puppy like whine coming from deep back within Reggie's neck. "You like my lips that much Reg?" Vinne asked with a tease in his voice, smiling more when see that same expression of bashfulness Vinnie witness when he asked Reggie out in the first place. "Okay, I'm sorry... does...this mean you like me too...?" He asked, hopeful of his words being a positive. Reggie giggles softly, "Of course it means I like you Vinnie... Why else would I agree to go on a date and kiss you?" Vinnie felt stupid asking such a obvious question. "And...why else would I do this?" After Reggie said that, he guided Vinnie again towards a secret spot. A nice little isolated hill spot overlooking the entire town and beach. Reggie...planned this? The vampire looked at Reggie in disbelief, now noticing the blush fur on his cheeks. "I... I like you too Vinnie... A lot... I've always had felt it too but that day when you risked everything just for me was when I realize it was more then a simple crush... And I wanted to show you how I felt since then...but I was too chicken to even bring it up in conversation... So, when you asked me out, I was nervous that I might miss my shot...so..." "So you ended up setting this up?" Reggie nodded some, his bangs sweeping over his warm brown eyes in a cute shy manner.

Vinnie smiles softly and wrapped his arms around Reggie's frame, his lips lightly touching a small peck on his cheek. Sure, this wasn't the date I had planned... Reggie giggles and gently sat on the grass, Vinnie following after. The sun was just about going darker as the stars began to appear above them like candles they used to have lit from their old fears of the unknown... Vinnie could help but smile when seeing Reggie's happy face when he cuddles into him. But I honestly couldn't ask for anything better.

#gravedale high #vinnie stoker #reggie moonshroud #vinnie/reggie #reggie/vinnie #vampire boyfriend #werewolf boyfriend #fanfic #ao3 fanfic

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buckyscrystalqueen · 4 years ago

Text

Ain’t Sayin’ She’s a Gold Digger: Part 3

Pairings: Sugar Daddy!Negan x Sugar Baby!Reader

Warnings: Sugar baby relationship, swearing

Word Count: 3,343

Part 1 / Part 2

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“OK, do you know what I think sounds much more fun than watching you work right now?” You asked from the bed as you rolled on to your stomach on the sheets toward where Jeff was working at the desk in the master bedroom.

“Playing the piano some more?” He asked without looking away from his laptop. You smirked and shook your head as you set the book you grabbed from the main room’s collection aside, pulled your knees up to your chest, and sat up.

“Well I can do that any time.” You giggled as you pulled off your night gown and tossed it toward the desk by his left elbow. He startled the slightest bit when it hit him, and he turned around to look at you with his eyebrow raised as you shot your underwear at him like a sling shot. “When else am I going to be able to skinny dip on the top of a cruise ship?” You turned on your heel with a giant smile and headed over to the veranda doors without a look back. “You coming or is work more fun to you?” He grumbled ‘Goddamn’ under his breath as you turned the corner and headed up the stairs to the small hot tub. The water felt absolutely perfect as you stepped into it, and Jeff finally joined you when you got the jets figured out and turned on. “Oh, no!” You said with a shake of your head as you moved in front of the stairs and shook your head as he set down a pair of robes from the closet. “This is a no clothing zone.”

“Yea, I’m still not fucking walking around with my dick out.” He laughed as he glanced over his shoulder before taking off his boxers and quickly getting into the hot tub.

“OK, who the fuck is gunna see you up here?” You laughed as you sat down in the seat next to him and put your legs across his lap. “The birds? I hear they are huge gossips.” You squeaked a laugh when he tickled your sides and pouted at him when he stopped.

“Gentlemen my age aren’t meant to skinny dip…”

“Huh? What does that even mean?” You asked as you threw your hair up in a messy bun on top of your head.

“You have tattoos?” He asked as he tilted his head a bit to see the tattoo that ran down your rib cage. You glanced down at it and nodded your head as you sat up so you could turn toward him a bit.

“The first song mama Beth taught me on the piano was Hallelujah. She wasn’t having none of that Twinkle Twinkle shit with her… with her own kid.” You sniffled and shrugged your shoulders. “So she taught me her favorite song. And it was the song that got me into Juilliard… well, sort of…”

“Story?” He asked gently as he slowly dragged the tips of his fingers up and down your shin.

“Well… OK, here’s the thing.” You started as you got comfortable in your spot and shifted the jet toward a small knot in your back a little more. “So if you haven’t realized by now, I am not normal. In any sort of capacity.”

“Nooo….” He sassed, teasingly. “You don’t say?”

“Shut up.” You laughed as you flicked a bit of water at him. “Its more fun to live life outside the box. So when I sent in my audition tape, I did the most stereotypical classical song you could think of. Beethoven. Bleck. But it got me through to the auditions so yay. But when I got into the practice room before the auditions and was warming up, I heard one of the ladies who worked at my… second? Maybe third group home say ‘don’t be afraid to be different’. Now, she had been talking about how I went through a phase when I was 13 of wearing bright, clashing colors every day because I thought it looked cool. But it just kinda changed my thinking that day. So I went into my audition and mashed up Hallelujah and Can’t Help Falling in Love, because it was playing on my iPod when I walked in to Juilliard, on the spot. Took me the full thirty minutes to figure out how to do it, but I did it. And it got me in.” Jeff sat silently for a moment, really taking in your story in a way you didn’t see, before he nodded his head.

“Where have you been all my life?”

“Disney gift shop.” You responded with a smile as you pointed at the water color Stitch outline on your hip. He smiled and slid his hand up to brush his thumb across the ink, before moving his hand to a more respectful place on your leg.

“My tattoos were all decisions made by a much younger man.” He laughed as he picked up your legs a bit so he could turn toward you.

“Yay stories!” He laughed again and nodded as he situated your legs on his lap again. He went one by one, showing you all five of his tattoos, and giving you an insight you had to assume not many people saw of the millionaire. You were absolutely enthralled with this man, and the more you listened, the more you wanted to know. And the more you got to know him, the more you wondered how it was possible that this man was single.

“Hey, Jeff.” You breathed as you used your and his legs to scoot closer to him. “How come… well… how come you’re a Sugar Daddy?”

“That��s…” He started as he looked out at the star splattered sky and the open ocean in front of the bow of the boat. “That’s a story for another day.”

“OK.” You whispered softly with a nod as you turned on the bench so you were right next to him and laid your head on his shoulder. “I have time to wait.” You felt him nod his head as he kissed the top of yours, before he rested his cheek on your head and looked back out at the stars.

“You are too good for me, sweetheart.”

“No, I’m not.” You giggled as you snuggled into his side. “I’m apparently just as fucked up as you are.” He huffed and nodded his head again as you both pointed to a shooting star at the same time.

“No, sweetheart. You are perfect.”

——

You had no idea where time went those next two weeks. Between the ten different ports in three different countries, and trying to learn as much as you could about the cruise experience as a whole so Jeff knew his company was exceeding his expectations of his company. Even though you knew he had work to do, you still couldn’t help yourself but be a flirtatious distraction just to see the smile that you could tell felt foreign to him.

“What, do you think you’re permanently stealing my shirt?” Jeff asked as he came out of the bathroom with a towel in his hands, barely covering himself up to tease you. You did a double take as you put your freshly cleaned clothes in one of the three harder side suitcases you bought before the trip. You glanced down at the shirt you had stolen from his part of the closet on the first or second night, and nodded your head.

“This is now mine.” You said with a smile as you dropped your jewelry bag on top of the first full suitcase and closed the top. “I’d just give up on thinking you’re getting it back… hey…” He hummed and looked up at you with his eyebrow raised as he stopped drying off his hair, and you tilted your head to the side like a lost puppy. “What’s wrong?”

“We need to talk.” Your stomach dropped to your toes as you nodded your head in total understanding.

“OK.” You whispered with a tight smile. “It’s OK, I understand. You… you don’t have to fly me back private.”

“Wait, what?” He asked as he threw the towel around his waist on his way over to where you were standing. “(Y/N), I’m not sending you home, baby girl. I’m trying to tell you that… we may need to renegotiate our arrangement.” You looked over at him as a single tear fell on each cheek. “No, don’t cry. You’re staying with me.”

“Why would you say it like that then, jerk?” You asked as he pulled you into a hug.

“Because I’m not good with the sappy shit.” He chuckled as he kissed the top of your head.

“So rude.” You said with a huffed laugh as you pushed him away. “Go away. I don’t like you right now.”

“Well I guess I’m going to have to send you home after all then.” You rolled your eyes at him and went back to packing your bags as he grabbed the pair of boxers he had left out when he packed while you showered. He hesitated a moment as he watched you set the outfit you were planning on wearing into London aside, and met your eyes when you looked up at him to continue. “My wife left me for another man.” You nodded your head and put down the pile of bras in your hand to walk around the bed to where he was standing.

“I know, honey. Dana told me.”

“Did she tell you I was to old to find another girlfriend?” He asked as he gently wrapped his hands around your upper arms and sat you down on the bed. “Because I am.”

“No.” You huffed as you used your legs to pull him a step closer to you. “No, you are not.”

“Yea, I am.” He sighed as he looked down away from you. “And I travel to much and work to hard…” You interrupted his thoughts before he could even get started by gently placing your fingertip on his chin and adding pressure until he looked at you again.

“Did you know that I’m worthless?” You asked him, honestly. “That I’m not worth anyone’s love. Because my last foster mother told me that every day before I aged out. Did you know that’s why I’m still single? Because just like you, I’ve been waiting for someone to show me that the wait we’ve both had to do was worth it.”

“You’re not worthless…”

“And you’re not old.” You countered as you ran your fingers through his wet curls. “And no, you don’t have to pay me to want to be here with you. You didn’t have to pay me to want to spend time with you at all…”

“I’m…” He started as he looked away again, but he leaned down enough to drop his forehead on yours.

“It’s OK to be scared.” You whispered as you closed your eyes and put your other hand on the back of his neck. “I’m scared that I will never be good enough for you no matter how expensive the clothes you put me in are. After all, I am an orphaned college drop out…”

“No you’re not. I’m the millionaire that is way to old to date anymore…”

“Alright, you’re wrong too, so if the point that you’re trying to make here is you want me to keep traveling with you, I can honestly say that you are never getting any work done again.” He smiled broadly and picked his head up enough to look at you and nodded.

“I think I’ll be OK with that.” Your smile grew with his as he closed the distance between the two of you and captured your lips with his. He pulled back quicker than you would have liked for your first kiss, and your smile turned into a pout as he adjusted his boxers. “What? I have work.”

“The fuck you do!” You laughed as you grabbed his wrist and pulled him back over to you. “You can’t kiss me like that and just walk away.”

“Oh, I’ll do whatever I want to, sweetheart.” He teased as he pushed you down on the bed between your suitcases and clothes. “I’m in charge.”

“No, you think you’re in charge.” You countered as you wrapped your arms and legs around him. “But in reality, I’m the one in charge here.” He hummed and kissed you again with a small nod.

“OK.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Hello?”

“Dana!” You said with way to much enthusiasm for 7:30 in the morning as you wandered around the Royal Suite of the Ritz Carlton you were staying in for the next few days while Jeff took care of some business he had. “Good, you’re awake. I’m stealing Jeff from you because no one else is allowed to have him ever again.”

“(Y/N)?” She asked hesitantly as she probably looked at her phone. “Where are you? Aren’t you supposed to be on a plane?”

“Well no, not any more. Oh, but you will never guess where I am!”

“You’re interrupting my Bachelor binge so it better be good…”

“I’m in Abu Dhabi.” You finished quickly as you sat down on the chaste lounge chair in the bathroom. “But I don’t wanna talk about that, I wanna talk about Jeff.”

“Of course you do.” She laughed as you turned the chair toward the window where you wanted it to look at the beautiful pool and beach below you.

“OK, one. You said he owned a couple hotels, not that he was the CEO of the freaking Marriott.”

“Didn’t know…”

“Second, and much more importantly, how the hell did his ex wife tell him he was to old to love?”

“She what?”

“Yea, broke his poor heart. My guess is that’s the only reason that he’s been coming to see you. To just pay to have someone not break his heart like that again. D, this man is God’s honest one of the sweetest men I’ve ever met. And funny! Oh, so funny! He had me nearly pissing myself at dinner every night on the cruise. I’ve had more fun in the last two weeks than that time we went to Coney Island and got wasted. You remember that night?”

“Of course I do…”

“And that’s saying something.” You continued over her to get your point out. “And whats more, I was concerned I’d only see the money… I don’t even care! Honestly, I just want to keep spending time with him. Shit, I’d never buy another nice thing in the world if it meant I got to spend more time with him. Dana… Dana this man is perfect. Like he’s a sculpted from the Gods, sweet as homegrown pie, loving, caring, compassionate, selfless piece of sexy as fuck hunk-a man.” Your best friend laughed at your description as you scooted down on the chair a bit more with a smile. “Thank you, Dana.”

“You’re welcome, (Y/N).”

“Guess you’re on your own going to the Bachelor mansion now.” You laughed as you crossed your legs and bounced your foot in the air. “I’ll let you borrow my dresses if you want so you don’t break the bank. OH! And I have my rent. I don’t know when we’re coming back because Jeff has a meeting here today and one in… I think Australia on Thursday, and I think he’s gotta stay in Australia for a bit, but I’m not sure. He told me when he was getting ready for the gym but I was half asleep and drooling. But he put some money in my bank account so I could make sure you weren’t late on bills until I figure out work again…”

“You don’t have to work if you don’t want to.” Jeff said softly as he walked into the bathroom, drenched in sweat from his morning workout. “Hi beautiful. Hi Dana.”

“I’ll Venmo you money later Dana, and Jeff says hi. Gotta shower and go drool some more. Call you from Australia!”

“Bye Jeff. Bye (Y/N). Have fun you traitorous bitch… leaving me in the single world…” With a smile, you said bye once more and hung up the phone to jump in the shower before breakfast.

“So I’m a… hunk-a man?”

“Hell yea you are!” You laughed as you dropped your phone on the lounge chair and reached for his shirt. “You are a bad eavesdropper.”

“Yea, well you were talking pretty loud.” He laughed as he pulled the tie of your robe free and grabbed your waist to pull you closer.

“I’m always loud.” You giggled as you pushed his shorts and boxers down as he walked you backwards across the room to the shower.

“Oh, I fucking know it.” He muttered as you wrapped your hand around his length. He kissed you softly and shook his head as he pulled his hips backs and turned on the water. “Sorry, baby girl. I have a lot of phone calls to make and work to catch up on from being away for two weeks before my meeting.”

“OK.” You said with only a slightly disappointed pout.

“But I know there’s a lot to see around here…”

“Do you care if I go see?” You asked as you stepped under the water and got your hair wet. “I just…. umm… well just in case I can’t come back?”

“(Y/N)…” He said softly as he gently pinched your chin and pulled it down so you would look at him. “Absolutely. I totally understand. Don’t ever feel guilty about experiencing the world if I’m working. As long as we’re together, you can spend whatever money you want, and go and do whatever you want in the cities we’re in. I don’t ever expect you to just sit in the hotel because I have to, OK?”

“OK.” You whispered with a nod of your head. He smirked at you and gave you a chaste kiss before stepping back to wash his body.

“Just give it some time, sweetheart. It’s gunna take some time to get used to my lifestyle, but we’ll get there. Find a routine, that’s the easiest way to do it.” You nodded your head and took the shampoo suds from your hair to wash his as well so you could wrap your arms around his neck.

“You really are too good for me, Jeffrey. Seriously.”

“Nope. That would be you.”

——

Coming back home after a month being away was a bit of a shell shocking experience. Your bedroom seemed way to tiny and was still covered in empty shopping bags and ripped off tags. You didn’t have an issue with the room and your apartment itself, it’s just that you had gotten used to Jeff being around, and it seemed so empty without him.

“You can just set them on the bed.” You sighed as you gestured to the queen sized bed in the corner.

“Bitch, I’m not your maid.” Dana laughed as she dropped the suitcases she helped you carry up on the floor. “You got it.”

“Dana!” You whined as you dropped shopping bags, and the other suitcase on your bed. “I can’t even!”

“Oh, you’ll be fine!” She called out as she headed a few feet down the hall to the kitchen to grab a trash bag. “Come on, let’s get this shit cleaned up so we can find room in that closet of yours for all this fancy shit you got now.”

“I brought you presents.” You said as you started grabbing tags off the bed and shoving them in the trash bag with the shopping bags she was picking up and throwing out. “I grabbed you something from every country I was in.”

“You don’t have to do that, hun.” She laughed as she set aside the tissue paper from the bags, and the shoe boxes to reuse for Christmas and birthday gifts and storage boxes to replace the old ones in her, your, and the hall closets.

“Yea, but I couldn’t help it.” You said as you threw out the last of the tags and grabbed the other suitcases. “There’s a lot of stuff that just screamed ‘you’ so I just had to get it. And it’s for me, too so it all works out in the end.”

“Alright, fine. What is it?” She asked with a laugh as you started digging through the bags.

“OK, we have this from London.” You said as you pulled out and handed her a boxed union jack coffee mug to add to her collection of random coffee mugs. “And this necklace is from Scotland.” You handed her the next small box and turned the slightest bit to point at the box. “It’s made from a Scottish plant and all the necklaces are one of a kind. There’s a little history card in there so you can read about it. And then of course, from Ireland…” You paused for a moment with a giant smirk as you pulled out a large bottle of Irish Whisky. “Shocker. I also grabbed two Avoca throws for the living room for our beds or something from Irelands oldest weaving mill, and a cute coffee table book. I got one from Australia, too.”

“So you went a little crazy.” She laughed as she looked at the two blankets you had set down.

“And then I got this for the dining room from Abu Dhabi. It’s a Turkish lamp but it looks so cool.”

“Oh wow!” She said as you pulled out the three orb hanging lamp from it’s box.

“And I had to get some pashmina’s…”

“Oh so perfect!” She said as you laid out the half dozen scarfs in various colors and patterns on the bed for her to see.

“I figured we could share them so we both have six colors to choose from, and if we like a certain color or pattern more, I can pick another one up if I go back to Abu Dhabi or Dubai or something. And I grabbed a bag of the coffee they had at the hotel because it was AMAZING, and some spices to cook with. I had a lot of time to spend money in Abu Dhabi.” You laughed as you added the empty bag to the trash bag on the floor. “And lastly, Australia; another place I had way to much time to shop in. I grabbed some opals to add to your crystal collection, I got myself a new pair of Ugg boots, some Vegemite because I actually liked it, surprisingly. I don’t know, I’m weird. And then some chocolate, more coffee, some tea, and oh, this awesome bottle of wine we had at dinner.”

“Woman! How much damn money did you spend?!”

“And the last two things…” You said as you pulled out two different stuffed animals held the kangaroo out to her. “I asked Jeff if it was OK, and I adopted a kangaroo in your name and a koala in mine. I got to meet them both, and I have pictures so you can see them too. But they are so cute so I had to adopt them. And you’ll get sent pictures every year to see their rehabilitation and release into the wild. Oh, and I ordered a didgeridoo to put up on my wall that should be in in a few weeks because it was too big to fly so I had to ship it.”

“This new too?” She asked as she hit the Pandora bracelet on your wrist.

“That was Jeff’s idea. So I can remember all the places he’s taken me.”

“You two are so disgusting.” She laughed as she started collecting her presents from the bed to bring them to her room so she could also grab a bottle of wine and help you unpack to hear all the stories she knew you had. “I got the wine and the extra hangers.”

“I’ll start a playlist.” You said as you put your koala stuffed animal on your pillow and pulled out the rest of your souvenirs to put away. You started with your closet and pulled out all of you old work clothes, to pack away in a tote under your bed for future use just in case. Hangers got piled up on the bed and wine got poured as stories started to flow. Dana worked on hanging up your new shirts, and skirts, and made room for shorts and pants on the shelves and in your dresser, while you hung up all of your dresses in your overflow wardrobe, before cleaning out your old makeup and replacing it with the new stuff. Bathing suits went in the box under your bed with your old ones, lingerie went into your dresser, and shoes and purses went in any space you had left, since your bedroom was pretty small and already full of stuff you had collected over the years. But even though it took you two hours to reorganize and put away, you still hadn’t run out of stories and you decided to give Dana a break because of the exhausted look on her face.

“OK, I’m done.” You laughed as you stacked up your suitcases at the foot of your bed to put out in the hall closet eventually.

“Sorry, sweetie. I just had a new client hit one of my girls last night so I was dealing with the cops half the night and this wine isn’t helping.”

“D, oh my God, why didn’t you interrupt me? Girl, go sit down! I could have unpacked by myself! I’ll order a pie for dinner and find something on Netflix to zone out to.”

“God, you have no fucking idea how good that sounds right now.” She laughed as she headed out of the room. With a nod, you grabbed your cell from the Hermès bag you had coveted of the woman in the Subway, and followed your roommate out to the living room to just veg and hang out until you both passed out on the couch in positions that was sure to make your back hurt the next day.

——

Pounding on your door woke you up way to early, and being the closer one, you threw off your slightly tangled blanket and trudged to the door from the couch. You looked up at your handsome visitor through sleep fogged eyes, and shook your head.

“No.”

“Sweetheart where have you been?” Jeff asked as he pulled you into a hug. “We were supposed to meet at the gym 45 minutes ago and your phone is going straight to voicemail...”

“I’m trying to fucking sleep!” Dana screamed from the living room as she got off the couch and headed into her room.

“Sleep time, baby.” You sighed as you grabbed his hand and pulled him into your apartment tiredly. “Sleep.”

“I can’t, I have shit to do today.”

“No, sleep time.” You repeated as you locked the door behind him and dragged him a few feet down the hallway to your bedroom. Your clothes from the night before hit the floor and you were too tired to even look back at him as you pulled back the blankets and climbed into bed against the wall in just your cotton thong. “Sleep with me.”

“Fine.” He muttered as he stripped down to his boxers and got into bed in front of you. “But only for an hour...”

“Shhh!” You hissed as you snuggled into his chest and almost instantly fell back asleep. One hour turned into almost five, which is when Jeff got tired of watching you sleep and decided it was time to wake you up. He very gently kissed your forehead and slowly rubbed your back, before his lips moved to your temple and down to your cheek.

“Supposed to be sleeping.” You grumbled when he kissed your nose.

“It’s almost eleven, baby. And I’m getting hungry.”

“There’s leftover sushi in the fridge.” You muttered as you pulled the blankets up over your head. “And some of a teriyaki bowl. Fried rice… but the spring roll is Dana’s.”

“OK, but I want to see your beautiful face with me…” You started when Dana threw your bedroom door open, and you sat up as she held her phone out.

“Chelsea got tickets to Burning Man.”

“She what?!” You asked as you scrambled over Jeff to get to the phone.

“I grabbed six.” One of your closest friends said on speaker as you took the phone from your roommate and grabbed Jeff’s gym shirt off the floor.

“That’s mine.” He said, which made you simply swipe your hand in his direction.

“How did you get six tickets?”

“Sold a townhouse on the Upper East so I jumped when I got that check this morning.”

“So what, six tickets, one vehicle pass?” Dana asked as she leaned on your door frame and bent down to scratch her leg.

“Yea.”

“So what, the three of us and who?”

“I figured asking Kara and Mac…”

“They broke up last week.” Dana said as she looked up at you with a shrug. “Mac cheated.”

“She did not!” You gasped over Chelsea in shock. Dana nodded her head and took a step back so Jeff could scoot past to go to the bathroom.

“OK, so just Kara.” Chelsea said as you gestured down the hall to the living room. “And I was thinking Mickey.”

“OK, I love Mickey, but I would kill him after three days.” Dana laughed.

“What about Steph?”

“I would kill her after two days.”

“OK well first, let’s ask this. Do we wanna make it a girls trip? Because (Y/N) has a new beau.”

“Ooo! Is this the cruise guy? I heard he’s stupid cute.”

“He is.” You laughed as you set the phone down on the coffee table and went into the kitchen to grab a pen and paper.

“I mean you said he’s older though? Like how old are we talking?”

“I’m 45.” Jeff called out as he headed into the kitchen to start making coffee. “Not that old. Coffee?”

“Oh! Didn’t realize he was there, sorry.” You called out that she was fine as you grabbed coffee mugs, and the container of coffee grounds for Jeff before heading back to discuss your plans.

“Keep a ticket on hold for right now for him.” You said as you sat down on the couch beside Dana and tucked your knees up to your chest. “I’ll get back to you in a couple days on that. And the last ticket has to go to Kenzie. She’s been trying to get us all to go with her for years and she’d be ideal on the prep front on what we actually need to bring.”

“Oh, yea I like Kenzie.” Chelsea said, excitedly. “I approve.”

“OK, so we have a line up. The three of us, Kenzie, Kara, and possibly Jeff. And if not Jeff, we can see if Matt wants to go.”

“Oh, he’s fabulous.” Dana agreed. “Alright, Chelsea, get your laptop. Let’s get a Zoom call going so we can start working out details. I’ll send you the room number in a minute.” She said OK and hung up the phone just as Jeff was coming out with three cups of coffee.

“So what is Burning Man?”

“It is a life changing experience.” Dana stated as she started a new group text chat for the Burning Man group. “It’s a week long event…”

“Not to be confused with a festival.” You interrupted as you started the list of what you would need to make this trip happen.

“Not a festival, but it is at the same time. It’s put on by artists, and musicians, and free spirits dedicated to self-expression and anti-consumerism.”

“It’s supposed to be a life changing experience.” You chimed in as you looked up from your notes. “We’ve been talking about going for the past five years since Kenzie went the first time.” Jeff nodded his head as your other three closet friend’s voices floated out of the speakers, but his next statement made everyone fall into stunned silence.

“I’ll tag along if you don’t mind it. Sounds like an interesting experience even for someone at my age. I’ll cover the costs, too so you all don’t have to worry about that and just enjoy the experience.”

“Wait, what?” Chelsea asked as Dana turned her laptop so the girls could see the three people in your living room.

“Who is that?”

“Is that the guy?”

“That’s the guy.”

“Guys, he’s right here.” You laughed as you waved your paper at the group. “Do we wanna plan this shit or what?”

“OK! OK! We’re planning!” Kenzie laughed as she got up to grab something on her end. “Now, I usually stay in a tent, but it’s usually just me and Stacy…”

“Oh, Stacy! We forgot Stacy!” Dana whined.

“I’ll cover her ticket.” Jeff said with a small nod as he sat back in his chair with his coffee. “And all of yours too.”

“What?” “No way!” “You don’t have to do that.” “Yo, I’m broke! Shut up!”

“You’re gunna give them all heart attacks.” You laughed.

“I’m not sleeping in a tent, either.” He said more to you with a shake of his head. “You want to be the one to look into an RV or should I have my assistant do it?”

“Oh, I know there’s a place out there we can rent from…” Kenzie tried but you shook your head as you added the RV to your list.

“No, he means he’s gunna buy one.” You said with a glance up at your friends. “Can we stop focusing on Jeff and focus on Burning Man, please?”

“Yes, Burning Man.” Dana said for you as she clapped her hands. “So, Kenzie. What do we need to know?”

“Who’s…”

“I’ve got the list started already.” You said over Chelsea as you waved the paper around.

“OK, Burning man is a fucking beast.” Kenzie said as she sat down on her couch with a meticulously organized fire red binder in typical Kenzie fashion. “It is not a foot race, it is a fucking marathon. You all need to be prepared. So let’s get started with my prep list…”

Part 4

#negan x reader #Ain't sayin' she's a gold digger #Negan thirst squad #Negan's thirst squad

34 notes · View notes

enigma-im · 5 years ago

Text

Danger Zone

Rating: Explicit Relationship: (Homemade)SCP x Female!human Warning: Violence, verbal abuse, forcible removal of limbs, work place bulling, sex, knotting, oral, monster sex

Word count: 6561

A love story written in incident reports in a SCP file

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ID#: KC-S4905 Object Class: Euclid Keter Description: 1.95m and 116.9kg Bipedal, long neck Black back hair. Lighter to the middle. Grey chest. Black crooked tail Human-esk face with a wide grin, multiple incisors. Flat nose and small eyes. Long erect ears similar to a border collie. White eyes generally obstructed by black bangs Front claws are ~ 5.59cm, hind claws are ~6.62cm muscle mass of 52%, ~10% higher than an average 20-year-old male.

Origin Found in Banff, the bottom half of Alberta Canada. A local fisherman reported traps being destroyed. Local deputy logged sightings of a 'bigfoot' in the area. A team was dispatched at 7/14/16 to investigate. Reported back 7/22/16 with clarification on the sighting. A tall black creature with a long neck and glowing white eyes. The team was approved to detain and capture the creature to be brought back to a base in South Dakota.

KC-S4905 was captured on 8/2/16. brought to base Fanning on 8/4/16. the creature was sedated, and detained in containment unit 23K-A. No further precautions made necessary besides 24/7 monitoring and a team of two at night. The creature remains cautious and hostile. He doesn't speak but is found to understand basic English. Follow commands but still lashes out when too close.

As of 8/6/16 creature KC-S4905 is logged and detained in Timbre Lake, South Dakota, Base Fanning.

The lab associates call him Kasey.

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

Incident logs (KC-S4905 & surrounding area)

10/14/16 2:23am - Motion sensor tripped in 23K-F. Guard reports nothing unusual.

The control panel light blinks at the bored guard. He sits with his head resting against his palm swiveling back and forth in his chair when the light catches his attention. He looks down, identifies the section it came from then with a sigh flips to the camera for that hallway. The guard studies the screen, looking for shadows or open doors but finds nothing. With another sigh, he sits up and pulls out his walkie.

"Who is close to 23K-F," he asks, yawning afterward.

His radio cracks to life, "I'm close, what's up?"

"Motion sensors went off on the third hallway. Please check it out, I'm not seeing anything on the monitors," he answers.

"On it."

The guard watches the screen until a figure walks around a corner. He watches as the man looks through the two rooms located in the hallway.

The radio beeps," I'm not seeing anything."

"Alright then. Probably a false alarm, thanks."

"Yea, anytime."

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

"Inserting 4mg of Midazolam into the upper arm. Should be good for another hour, two hours at most," the lab assistant spoke with unconcern. Just another monster to collect a sample from, nothing exciting for Brian Philips. Working here for eight years, you have seen it all. Having seen it all, Brian is pretty ok sticking with the 'grunt' work. Collect blood, hair, and tissue samples then send the big beast back to its cage.

"Can't imagine we need that kind of time, be in and out in, what, 30 minutes?" the guard, Princeton, asked. The guard rested against the wall closest to the door. He held a .50 cal. Pistol with sedative rounds. Security wasn't allowed to even have the opportunity to injure anyone or anything. Less the unit was deemed dangerous then all armed workers must use fast-acting tranquilizers.

"No time at all," Brian answered noncommittedly as he plucked some hairs from the creature's arm. Stuffing large tuffs into a bag, labeling, and placing it in storage before working on a tissue sample. He got flakes of skin, storing in the same fashion as the fur. Everything was simple and easy. But would you honestly believe that? This is an incident report after all.

Brian reached for a needle on the metal table. Sterilizing then finding a vein he slowly pricked the tip into the creature's skin. The second the point pierced the epidermis Kasey woke up.

Brian barely even registered the movement before the arm he was leaning next to thumped against his jaw, clamping his teeth over his tongue. Brian rolled back in his chair, only having enough time to taste the blood pouring from the end of his tongue. Next KC-S4905 rolled off the metal table and lashed out at the poor lab assistant, scratching across his shoulder, slapping him off the chair and onto the floor. A pop pierced the air as a weapon was fired. Princeton managed to get a hit on the creature's back before Kasey clawed at Brian's back with his long claws. Brian screamed as the knives cut through his coat and skin like paper. He felt it run from the back of his neck and down to the bottom of his ribs, his skin instantly burning as his muscles are introduced to the open air.

Another pop fills the room as Princeton fires again. The tranquilizer finally seems to do something as KC-S4905 swayed on his feet. His nails clicked against the tiled floor as he hobbled into the far wall. He caught himself on the brick before sliding down to the tiled floor. He lands on all fours, growling and shaking his head. Try as he must to rid the dizziness, it only got worse till he fell to the floor.

Princeton watched the creature with bated breath, his weapon clenched tightly in his terrified grip. His ears rang and he could feel sweat dripping from his brow. His body felt primed and ready for a fight but he knew there would be none, especially against something this big. As he watched the beast fall slack against the floor did he lower his weapon. He stopped and caught his breath, dropping his head so his chin bumps against his chest. His ears finally cleared enough to hear Brian crying against the floor.

Princeton reached for his walkie," I need medical at lab room 23K."

"Roger, medical is on their way," a voice answered back.

10/30/16- Lab assistant injured while collecting samples. Guard -Princeton Adams- fired 2 sedative rounds. Lab assistant suffered 3 lacerations on his shoulder and back. 25 stitches used. Higher precautions enabled.

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

11/9/16 1:14am - door alarm activated in container 23K-A. Guards report no tampering, door slightly ajar. The main door into the container is locked and sturdy. The investigation of the video shows nothing.

A piercing alarm startled security guard Pico Conwell. He was walking his rounds when the loud siren rang. With years of training he knew without evening thinking what it was. Pico ran down the hall, closer to the blaring call. He turned down the maze of hallways to see two other guards running with their weapons drawn to the floor.

Breach alert, everyone knew that sound, drilled it into their heads since day one. If you work around the beast that can kill you without a thought, you made sure to keep alert and aware.

Pico and his fellow guards came to the unit where the call came from, 23K-A. Pico walked ahead of the group, as a senior resident it was his duty to scope the scene first. He walked down the hall to a slightly ajar door, keeping wide breath with his weapon pointed to the floor. Many times these calls have been just a newbie trying to get some work done and messing up the access protocols. No need to have your weapon out to scare any poor workers dumb enough to trip an alarm.

Finally getting around the door he was able to look inside. Years of experience he knew to check the containment door first. If that door was open then extra caution is necessary. The door was still sealed, the light above glowing green. It was locked and untampered. Pico looked around the small room, almost a hallway, and found nothing out of sorts.

He walked out the room to the two other guards," Nothing amiss, perhaps one of the techies didn't close it all the way. The main door is still shut, call maintenance down to turn the alarm off, and check the lock."

"On it," someone answers.

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

12/22/16- An altercation between guard and doctor. Nonviolent, but harassment charges were filed against a guard, Princeton Adams, from Dr. Janet Wilco.

Dr. Janet Wilco was assigned to KC-S4905 after the incident with Brian Philips. Having experience with aggressive subjects she is all the more qualified to be part of this project. Some don't seem to see it that way, such as Princeton Adam. He was always tense whenever KC-S4905 was in the room, also questioning everyone to make sure the subject was really out. It irked Dr. Wilco to no end, having some overpaid babysitter to stand there with a gun acting like he knows even a smidge of medicine.

Today was no different.

"The beast is properly sedated," he asked as they wheeled KC-S4905 in. Dr. Wilco passed an unamused glance at Princeton.

"Of course Mr. Adams, we do know how to do our jobs," Dr. Wilco passed with a barely restrained sneer.

Princeton chuffed," So far as you think."

"What is that suppose to mean Mr. Adams?" Dr. Wilco turned to Princeton, her sneakers scuffing against the floor. Princeton looked down at her with an unentertained grin. Dr. Wilco felt patronized at the look.

"It means that if you techies knew how to do your job then Dr. Philips wouldn't be in the hospital," he bent low to be eye level," So excuse me for being sure. I rather not see your pretty face get all clawed up like Brian's back."

"You listen here you-," Dr. Wilco paused before she said something she regretted. Princeton chuffed again with more amusement. Dr. Wilco collected herself before speaking again. "The first time was because we assumed we knew the correct dose to be used on the subject. He burned through it pretty fast and now we know the correct amount to use that would both sedate him and not kill him. So if you would stop questioning me every time I do my job, I think we could be done with these little check-ups quickly," she answered with more professionalism than she believes she could muster.

Princeton stood straight with arms crossed. The conversation seemingly over Dr. Wilco turned and got back to work. It's with an off the shoulder comment did she lose her cool and give Princeton a tongue lashing that made even the second guard present blush.

Everyone heard, and everyone had thoughts on the matter. And when I do say everyone, I do mean everyone.

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

The guards' room is under surveillance 24/7. the area is more of an apartment than anything else. Having bunk beds present and a fully functioning kitchen in the same room. Another room attached has a lounge and a locker wall. It’s a comfortable enough place for guards to take their breaks, store their items, and catch up on some sleep before their next shift. Some believe it has to be the safest place in the building with its gun locker and lockdown functions.

It wouldn't be true as of Dec 23, 2016.

Princeton Adams settled down for a nap around midnight. Perhaps 40 minutes later the cameras go on the fritz, looking like the visuals were in a snowstorm with all the static. After about 5 minutes the screen cuts off, completely black, completely silent.

When the camera comes back on its around one in the morning. The screen shows Princeton resting against the floor surrounded by other workers, both guards and scientists alike. He was screaming and holding his face with bloody hands. His wails alerted residents in the hallway to rush to his location. As they reached him there was only him and severe cuts on his chest and face.

Princeton was rushed to medical. Treated for his wounds and given blood as most of his was on the floor of the guards' bedroom. Once he was settled and able to answer some question he was of no help. He remembers going to sleep then waking to a burning pain on his bare chest. He startled awake where he caught sight of a dark figure with white eyes. Before his eyes could adjust he was slapped across the face and promptly mauled.

Guards remain vigilant, no leads are found.

12/23/16 12:56am- Motion sensors tripped in guards' quarters in unit 23. One guard critically injured with lacerations across the chest and face. Guard was identified as Princeton Adams. The video cuts out before any movement is detected, coming back to the guard being surrounded by workers. All guards are permitted to hold live ammo with them at all times.

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

"giving 6mg of Midazolam," lab assistant Amy Borrell called to the room. Dr. Wilco nodded but focused on her clipboard, recording vitals as she walked to the cabinets. Once she finished she set her board down and began searching for supplies. Grabbing what she needs and set them on the metal rolling table. She glances at the large creature passed out on the table.

Wilco has always been fascinated by the strange and unusual. As a child, she adored watching monster flicks and horror movies. Amazed by the practical effects of monsters and how they are made. They have always had an allure to them, something captivating that Janet couldn't put her finger on. Her two career choices as a teenager were a doctor and special effects artist. As we all can see she has chosen to go the medical route. Lucky for her it brought her straight to this job. It’s a dream come true for Janet to work with monsters.

Looking at KC-S4905 or, as Dr. Wilco heard his alternate name, Kasey, she felt a kinship with him. She couldn't describe it but this creature has stood out to her, more than any of the others she has worked around. Perhaps it was his long neck or pointed teeth. Maybe it was his muscular body or piercing eyes. Either way, it wasn't something Dr. Wilco could put her finger on.

Continuing on with her work she was first to reach for the subject. As her gloved fingers brushed against his fur she noticed his stomach tense. Before she had time to even say a word Kasey lifted his head and snatched Wilco's arm. She immediately tried to jerk herself out of his hold but he held firm. White cold fear ran down her spine before she looked up at Kasey's white eyes and a wide smile. They both held each other's gaze as the room went silent. Nobody moved, nobody breathed.

Dr. Wilco stared into his piercing eyes and could only think, 'is he purring?"

1/3/17- The doctor grabbed during sample gathering. KC-S4905 was sedated but woke long enough to grab Dr. Wilco's arm. No injuries sustained, mandatory therapist meetings required to find further damages. Though the creature doesn't project mental abilities, precaution is used.

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1/4/17- door alarm activated in unit 23 worker's locker room. All lockers were opened, nothing reported stolen besides a single lab coat in locker 142. Owner not identified having refuse to step forward.

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

Dr. Bradshaw was added to the project shortly after Dr. Wilco. He was a stubborn man, perhaps a bit sexist or racist. Could be he just doesn't like Dr. Wilco. The two constantly butt heads during work, arguing over the simplest things till they both were red in the face.

One day that workplace arguing got a little too out of hand

"Dr. Wilco, do you insist on doing things the hard way? Does it make you feel like you are important," Dr. Bradshaw snarked. Dr. Wilco was currently setting up the IV drip for when they start surgery on Kasey, KC-S4905.

"And do you feel like a big man when you belittle coworkers," she snapped back. Before Dr. Bradshaw could retort back the door opened as Kas- KC-S4905 is rolled in.

The process went smoothly as lab assistants set up the heart pads and IV. Doctors cleaned up nearby wearing scrubs and gloves.

"Think you can handle something like this, wouldn’t want you to get cold feet in the middle of this operation on your little boyfriend," Dr. Bradshaw snorted. Ever since Janet was grabbed most of her coworkers have called her beauty. Referring to Beauty and the Beast or King Kong in their jesting. It didn't bother her, the names meant nothing. The situation around Kasey's gentle hold was more startling than their jokes. Still, when it comes from Dr. Bradshaw it's all the more aggravating.

"I should handle well. I'm more curious if you will be fine, I heard that you sometimes get squeamish around blood," She chuckles as does a few others in the room. Dr. Bradshaw is secretly known for his fainting in his younger days when he first drew blood. Having moved far away from the area it still sticks with him.

"Who told you that," Dr. Bradshaw snapped. It was shocking to Janet and most others in the room. Dr. Bradshaw turned and snarled down at Dr. Wilco, "Who told you, tell me you little bitch!"

"Whoa, Whoa," I held up my hands as I backed away," it's just a joke, calm down." Dr. Bradshaw continued his pursuit with fist clenched at his sides.

"No, it's not just some joke. I spent years of my career perfecting my skills and gaining great recognition. I do not deserve to be belittled by some woman for something that happened years ago," he backs her to the surgery table. Dr. Wilco braces her hands on the cold metal, looking around at the others for help.

"Hey, you're right. I'm sorry, how about we forget this and get back to work," she tried to deescalate. He was having none of it.

"No, fuck you, Janet. You dumb slut, I worked hard for this and I don’t want to hear your mouth anymore. So do us all a favor and know your fucking place," he snarled in her face. Before anyone could react he raised his hand and backhanded Dr. Wilco to the floor. She fell to her hands, banging her knees on the ground. Dr. Bradshaw seethed above her, feeling a little proud of himself.

It isn't until a loud growl pierces the air does anyone look away from the slapped woman. Dr. Bradshaw looks up in time to see an open mouth lunging for his face. He backs up enough to fall to the floor, but before he can make it a hand grabs his forearm. Quickly teeth sink around Dr. Bradshaw's elbow, scraping against the bone before his whole body is pushed away. He screams and flails, beating against the creature as he shakes his head. Soon Dr. Bradshaw falls to the ground, landing partially on a growing pile of blood. The creature lashes at him, cutting over his chest as two loud pops fill the room. The beast stops, Dr. Bradshaw stares at bloody teeth and closing eyes, seeing his mauled arm resting in its mouth. Then the creature falls to the floor, making its own pile of blood.

Guards usher workers out of the room and Dr. Bradshaw is dragged into the halls before being taken to medical. Kasey lays on the floor, barely catching his breath as he watches Janet look back before turning the corner and out of sight.

1/23/17- Altercation between Dr. Wilco and Dr. Bradshaw. Violence was used by Dr. Bradshaw and Dr. Wilco was forced back into a table. KC-S4905 woke from the sedative and attacked Dr. Bradshaw. Two live rounds were shot into the creature's leg and shoulder. Dr. Bradshaw is now in critical condition. His left arm forcibly detached from his elbow down. Medical was able to reattach the arm, he remains in their care till further notice. KC-S4905 was sedated and treated for injuries. Remaining in his cell until further notice, no interactions. Food is distributed by guards now.

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

1/26/17 2:30am- unauthorized entry into unit 23K-A. No further info provided

Dr. Wilco believes she has to see him. The day runs over and over in her mind all week. She is questioned and monitored like crazy before they leave her alone, moving on to another witness. As she spends her time alone, checking up on the camera watching Kasey, she thinks. Did he attack the first person he saw? Where the sedatives, not enough? Or where they never enough and he was always watching, listening? Then the ultimate questions circling her mind.

Did he do it for her?

After hours of thinking, making a decision then backing out, she goes for it. Nabbing a temporary pass from the office then sneaking down to containment. She cards herself in then stops in the first room. Closing the door silently behind herself she watches Kasey rest in the corner of his room. He is lounging in a circle, similar to a dog. His eyes were closed when she walked it but a few seconds later they are opened and staring straight at her.

Janet walks closer to the window, looking at his shaved shoulder. The director demanded medical to treat his wounds before he bled to death. They had to shave his fur to get a better look. The wound looks good, almost scarred. Fast healing was a thing that was recorded so it's not too surprising.

Kasey followed Janet's movements, too curious to look away. He couldn't think of a reason for her being here but accepted the blessing for what it was. He watches as she fiddles with her fingers, looking behind herself once in a while. She looks like she wants to say something, Kasey is eager to listen.

"Thank you," she answers. Kasey just barely catches it behind the thick glass. "I don't know if you attacked Dr. Bradshaw for me or you were just attacking out of fear but I still appreciate it either way. He was a very rude man. He didn’t die so I think I'm allowed to speak ill of him," she chuckled at the end," I read you can understand us for the most part, so… do you understand me?"

Kasey nodded.

"Oh," she started, shocked," good then. So, thank you and I need to go." she scurried off, closing the door quietly behind herself. Kasey figures quickly that she wasn't supposed to be in here. The camera most likely picked up here coming and going from here, Kasey would deal with it.

When the night progressed Kasey assumed it would be safe enough to travel. He moved the tile on the floor, shoving a lab coat out of the way before escaping.

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

2/1/17- routine cleaning of 23K-A finds a lab coat hidden behind a floor tile. Coat belongs to Dr. Wilco.

2/1/17- subject upgraded from Euclid to Keter

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3/5/17- KC-S4905 drugged for a check-up. Took well to the new substances. Precaution; table with limb locks used. The creature managed to fight stronger sedatives used for transportation and cornered Dr. Wilco to the far wall. No shots fired, creature retreated on their own. Dr. Wilco sustained no injuries. Therapy sessions mandatory. Partial transcript below.

Transcript: Janet Wilco and Dr. Jung ….. Dr. Jung: You say that he spoke to you?

Dr. Wilco: yes. He had a deep gravely voice that kind of rumbles into my chest.

Dr. Jung: what did he say?

silence

Dr. Jung: go on, it's ok. The more we know the better, but don't feel pressured. ok, Janet?

Dr. Wilco: He said 'you smell like roses'.

Dr. Jung: is that all he said?

Dr. Wilco: …Yes.

…..

End.

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

3/7/17- with constant incidents with Dr. Janet Wilco, she is now assigned to a different unit.

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3/24/17- Door alarm activated in the Doctor locker room in unit 23. all lockers open similar to 1/4/20 incident. Nothing was stolen. Locker 142 door was forcibly removed. The locker is currently empty, as was at the time of the incident.

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

4/2/17- Guard doing patrol reported to odd noises coming from Break Room 32C in unit 20. The call was made at 4:22am to control. Transcript below.

Transcript: Security guard Jose Pérez ….. Pérez: I hear a strange noise coming from 32C in unit 20. request to investigate

Control: go ahead. Stay on the line

Pérez: copy

sound of footsteps

Pérez: Hello! Anyone in here? I am currently armed so make yourself known now.

Footsteps followed by soft groaning noises

Pérez: Hello? Please make yourself known now.

Background feminine voice: Kasey

Pérez: Miss? Are you injured? Say something, miss.

Control: Have you found who was making the noise?

Pérez: No, I hear someone.

Growling and high wails

Pérez: Oh Fuck. I think someone is getting mauled.

Frantic footsteps. Wails increasing in volumes

Control: Pérez report

Pérez: Oh god.

Control: Report

shouting and growling

…..

End

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

Janet unbuttons her top in the empty locker room. Her mind wonders a mile a minute as she thinks back on her time working on the KC project. She finds the audacity to reassign her ridiculous. It was hardly her fault that things went the way they did. Some coworkers were insufferable, that had nothing to do with her. Then the attacks linked back to the subject wasn't her doings either. Its impressive that Kasey managed to avoid detection for so long, sneaking out the tile on the floor. There are theories being pushed about between workers about how he managed to dig a hole without being noticed. It’s a curious thing.

Janet dressed into her casual clothes, ready to head to the bunks to get some rest. She closes the locker, it clicking into place, before reaching to the bench for her bag. As she grabs the handle she faintly hears a different clicking sound. She stills, looking around the room. She listens, hearing nothing she calls out.

"Hello," her voice echoes throughout the room. The clicking starts again, coming from behind the wall of lockers in front of her. She waits for an answers, a sign of someone else being here. Janet waits with bated breath for any indication.

"You left," a deep gravely voice calls from behind her. Startled, Janet jumps, turning quickly to the source of the voice. At first she sees nothing, the room mostly dark as she didn’t bother turning more than one set of lights on. It isn't till two white eyes meet hers does she know who it is.

The soft sound of nails clicking against metal is all she hears as he shifts into the light. He sits perched above the lockers, crouched on all fours. Above him a ceiling panels is missing. As he gets closer, his hand slamming against a locker, Janet steps back. The back of her knee bumps the bench, making her sit.

"You left, Janet," he growls out again. He sneers, his teeth shining in the low light of the room. Janet sits there in a mix of emotions. Startled, confused, alarmed, but curious.

"Left what," she manages to ask. Kasey growls at her answer, jumping down off the lockers and onto the floor. He quickly makes his way to Janet, clawing his fingers into the wooden bench on either side of her. Janet sucks in a gasp, tilting away as she comes face to face with him.

"You weren't there anymore," he huffs. Janet sits back as far as she can on her hands, her head turned away. He seethes on her face, sitting inches away.

"I-I had no choice," she chokes out.

"No choice," he hisses.

"Yea, I had no choice. I was reassigned," she whimpers. His nearness and low rumbling growls do nothing to settle her nerves. Despite her lately romanticizing thoughts of his actions she wasn't naïve enough to apply them here. Not when his sharp incisors are inches from her cheek.

Kasey clenches the bench tightly, unapproving of the attempts to rid her. Finding her was a challenge for him, not knowing where she could be. It was frustrating the first time he was sedated since she left, not getting to inhale her comforting scent during such a stressful time. That would be the first time he let the affects of the sedative alter his alertness. If she wasn't there then he didn't want to be either.

"They tried to keep you away from me," he bumps his head against hers," but they cannot keep me from you."

As he begins to rub his face against her she lets those thoughts come unfiltered. So he is interested, that’s a not so uninteresting thought as she figured it would. Ever since Janet first met him she was impressed with what she saw. He is appealing in ways men she has been with before have not. He has protected her when others haven't and he seems devoted to her. It was a strange thought but Janet is all for it.

Janet turns into him, rubbing her cheek against his. She lifts one hand to his on the bench, feeling his warm fur against her fingers. She startles a bit when he begins to purr, just like the first time he touched her. Janet licks her lips before stroking up his arm and around to his shoulder. She can feel the rumbling of his pleased growls. As she reaches his neck he licks up her's. Janet gasps, the tingling sensation running down her spine and into her crotch. Her nails dig into his fur, grabbing it by the fistful as he settles her shoulder in his mouth. His sharp dangerous teeth barely dig into her skin.

"No one can keep you from me, " he growls around his mouthful," I will have you this night." One hand unbeds itself from the bench and rests against Janet's back. He tugs her forward till her chest is flush with his. The feeling of her in his arms, safe against him, makes his chest feel full. Yes, he will have her this night.

"o-ok," Janet answers a bit dazed. She knows this should be alarming, if not off putting, but Janet doesn't care. This feels right, that’s the only thing that has felt right in a long while.

Kasey purrs with a large grin, all the more excited now his female accepted this, accepted him. He licks and nibbles her neck as his hand pets and gropes her hips. His cock hot and ready but the little he knows about females, let alone human females, is that she needs more time to be ready. Kasey slides her off the bench and onto the floor, his eagerness showing between their bodies.

Janet gets a slight view of his rod, it being too dark to see it all. She does notice a large bulb at his base, before she can question it her shirt is ripped open. Janet yelps as her body jiggles with the sudden force. Her bra is ripped next leaving her bare and open to Kasey's all too pleased gaze. He likes what he sees, reaching out and groping her chest with both hands. Janet sits back on the cold floor, arms resting on either side of her head. She chuckles to herself at the absurdity of the situation. The strangeness is outweighed by the heat in her pants as his claws carefully pinch at her skin.

Her clothes are removed promptly, Kasey excited to bury himself into her awaiting heat, not before he gets a taste. Janet watches as he rests on his stomach, staring down with his wide grin at her cunt. He licks his lips, Janet groans with anticipation. They both wait with bated breath as he lowers his mouth to her, quickly licking a long stripe up her. They both moan at the feeling. Kasey already believing she is the best tasting thing on the planet. Janet can't believe she is really getting eaten out by one the monsters she works with.

Kasey worships her with his mouth, licking up every drop of her. He grunts and groans against her as his cock pulses against the floor. His palms cup her ass as he grind her into his face. His back nails dig into the concrete floor as he fights the urge to buck against the ground.

Janet whimpers and cries out, squirming in his hold as she fists her hair. She fights her fast approaching climax, wanting to ride his mouth just a little longer. Its when she feels his nails prick against her skin, feels his rumbling purrs against her, and sees his tail wagging behind him does she give up on the fight. With a shout and an arch of her back does she cum on his face.

Kasey licks up every drop, adoring the way she wiggles in his hold and buck against his tongue. Oh he plans to do that often. He think about doing it again till his cock pulses again between his stomach and the cold ground. Hearing Janet cry out had him nearly cumming on the floor, wasting his seed on his chest rather than inside her.

Janet pants as she watches Kasey climb up her body. His teeth sparkle in the light making her shudder as she knows some of her slick is on those teeth. Janet reaches out for him, wrapping her arms around his neck as he settles above her. He leans down and licks over her mouth, delving in when she opens for him. Janet sucks on his tongue, carding her finger through his hair as she does.

As Janet is busy Kasey takes the time to align himself with her awaiting heat. His eyes roll back as his tip presses to her hole. Kasey grabs her hips and sits up to watch himself enter her. Looking down at his cock he passes just a glance up at Janet. He takes in her overeager grin, her heaving chest, and flush cheeks. Kasey adores what he can do to her, knowing fully well he is the reason she is so ragged looking. He smirks down at her before pressing in.

Janet chokes on a gasp as his cock fills her up. The stretch is divine as is the feeling of his fur sliding across her thighs. He rests against her thighs with a grunt, finally settled as far as he is willing to go for now. She will take his knot later. He lightly bucks his hips at the thought.

He thrusts into her without a care. Janet can feel him deep inside her, her walls fluttering around him as she watches his hips slam into her's. he holds her, pulling her against him with each beautiful glide of his cock. He already feels ready to burst, ready to give in to her tight cunt. Janet sits in for the ride, watching every clench of his stomach, every hiss coming from between his teeth, and hear the clap of their hips. She can't stop the whimpers and cries the escape her parted lips.

"Kasey," Janet shouts as he slams into her. He gives up on watching her pussy take him and falls to his hands. He wildly thrusts into her, completely adoring the way she grips his cock. He can't hold on any longer, she has to take him completely.

He slaps his hips harder into her, opening her thigh wider with a hand as he tries to force his knot. Janet feels the hard piece begging for entrance. Was this the bulb as his base? She isn't quite sure she can take that as she already feels completely stuffed. Kasey doesn't quit in his efforts, leaning into her with a particularly hard buck of his hips. He feels her give just a bit, he keeps pushing. Kasey feels her open for him, allowing just enough room for him to pop into place.

"Agh, fuck." Janet groans and Kasey whimpers into her neck. His high pitched wails make Janet hold him closer, petting along his hair as she tries to adjust to the new intrusion.

"Perfect, too perfect," Kasey cries out. He gives small bucks of his hips that drive Janet wild. She gives in faster than she thought possible, clenching and spasming around him. Kasey whimpers louder as she grips him harder than he could ever imagine. His tongue hangs out his mouth, panting as his thighs shake. His balls clench up and when he listens to her own cries of pleasure does he shoot his seed into her. He turns his head and sinks his teeth into her soft, delicate flesh. He is only mildly aware of how fragile she is, holding back just barely as he marks his mate.

Kasey and Janet catch their breath on the now warm floor. Janet's sweat sticks to Kasey's fur. Kasey's teeth sit just barely in Janet's flesh. They can both barely hear the sound of his tail wagging behind them. Janet would laugh if she wasn't so exhausted. Instead she sits lax against the floor hearing a soft keening coming from Kasey.

"You alright," Janet asks. Kasey finally lets her go, sitting up to look down at her. His wide grin show off his blood stained teeth. He licks them clean before resting his head to hers.

"Perfect," he grumbles. They share a smile, all too content with what they have done.

Janet still feels Kasey cumming, his hot load making her squirm in frustration. Kasey looks between them before meeting her eyes, he tilts his head in questions before running his hand down her stomach. Janet nods, dropping her head back as his hand meets her clit. He rubs her as his hips buck. As he listens to her cries of pleasure he misses the sound of a door opening.

Upon later reflection he blames himself for what happens, knowing he is way more aware than this.

As she cums on his cock for the second time a man calls out from behind them. Kasey looks over his shoulder to see a guard pointing a gun at them both. Quickly Kasey pulls out of Janet's all too comfortable cunt. He winces along with Janet at the pain but its short lived before he picks her up.

Kasey settles Janet in the corner of the room, holding himself as a shield in front of her. Kasey snarls and growls at the guard, protecting his new mate from the intruder. Kasey's mind was still a bit fuzzy but he knew that he needed to protect her. He will protect her.

4/2/17- Guards flank to storage room 32C to scene of subject KC-S4905 and Dr. Wilco copulating on the floor. Backed into a corner, KC-S4905 hides Dr. Wilco in the corner while snarling at security. No shots fired, all participants go willingly.

4/2/17- Medical eval. Shows semen found in and around Janet Wilco's vagina. Bruises covering most of the inner thigh, hips, and one on her neck. Small cuts on her posterior and hips. minuscule puncture wounds on her neck and shoulder. No serious injuries. Psych eval. Results are inconclusive.

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

4/5/17- Dr. Janet Wilco is forcibly let go and on constant surveillance until further notice.

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5/23/17- Despite transferring to a more secure containment, KC-S4905 has escaped the facility.

5/23/17- Janet Wilco is missing.

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KC-S4905 is still currently missing. Janet Wilco's missing person search has been disbanded and she is now considered dead as of 2/25/18

End of KC-S4905 (Kasey)

Director Cameron H. Stanley

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

If you made it to the end I'm proud of you. this is extremely experimental and I figure most people won’t enjoy this. I know little to nothing about SCP stuff but I was reading one and I got this idea to tell a love story in one. At first, it was just incident reports and no little story bits in the middle. but it got away from me and here we are.

I realized like halfway through this that I was pretty much ripping off Strigoi boyfriend from Somanyfangs on twitter (I tried posting the link but its not working). so credit is due here. besides that, this was all original. I hope you liked it cause I'm so iffy on this one.

Check out my Archive | Masterlist| Main Blog

#scp fanfiction #Kasey x Janet #Kasey the SCP #monster boyfriend #monster lover #exophilia #Enigma-IM

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moskaisley · 5 years ago

Text

migraine pt. 5 | relief

gif cred: @coredrive

rating: mature

word count: 4k platinum hi def TV

warnings: angst but also some comfort bc everyone is in their feelings, violence, descriptions of fighting and blood, mentions of death

a/n:

me: yea i’ll post by 8pm!!! also me @ midnight:

i got slammed with some work from my job last minute so thats why she’s a couple hours late!! such is the life of a freelancer but thank u all for being patient anyway hehe. anyways!! i’ve had a LOT of ideas for side stories lately and i’m thinking of posting them in between the main parts of migraine so maybe look out for that???

and thank u all for your kind words on part 4!!! ily all and i hope u enjoy this one. alexa play in my feelings by drake 🥺🥺🥺

summary:

“Did you love him?”

You freeze, heart pounding loudly in your chest at the thought. You know the answer, but you’re terrified to speak it aloud, as if Mando could hear you utter it into the universe.

Where you find the strength to feel it all at once.

parts 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6

ao3 link / masterlist

“I’m going on ahead.”

“Well, I’m not coming with you.”

He scrunches his nose, nostrils flaring. You refuse to look him in the eye.

“Seriously?”

You pick at the threads in the thin blanket on your legs with your nails. He’s fully dressed, standing in the doorway of your tiny dwelling. You’re still in your cot, your last chance to flee with him slipping away with every string you pull. But fear claws at your insides, paralyzing you in your spot. You hear him shuffle, kneeling beside the bed and forcing you to meet his gaze.

“Please, help me stop them,” he pleads.

Your lip quivers, tears threatening to spill over. He’s such a beautiful boy. You loved and loathed his courage; Luca was always braver than you were, fighting off bullies in the schoolyard and sneaking out after dark. He was the first one to defy the Moff when he showed up at your doorstep, and he was the quickest to arm when they came blasters ablazing. But while Luca had moved forward ready to enact his revenge, you were still stuck in front of your burning home, heat blistering against your skin and pathetic tears streaming down your face. You’re still frozen at the other end of a blaster, cowering on your knees before a man clad in black. You’re still being ushered away down the country road with your brother, two very distinct shots ringing through your ears.

But Luca doesn’t understand.

“We’ll die, just like them.”

“Don’t you want to die fighting?”

You tear a hole in your blanket.

“I don’t want to die at all, Luca.”

You haven’t spoken to him in days.

It was quite impressive, really.

Ever since your breakdown, you denied yourself any sort of contact with the Mandalorian, bitterness and hurt still raw every time you looked at him. At first, he tried to get you to respond to him, prodding with simple questions and painfully awkward small talk. But when his one-sided conversations were only met with more eerie silence, Mando took the hint and stopped trying altogether. You didn’t spend too long in the same space with him either; you made sure to work on opposite sides of the ship. Shifts were still maintained at night to watch over your camp while the other slept; but when it was his turn to take over, you only woke him with a wordless shove and quickly slipped into your bunk to get your share of rest.

Sleep never came.

Instead, you aimlessly tossed on the mattress for hours and hours on end, mind torn over the man standing outside your door. You loathed him, you were sure of it. He hurt you, more than anyone ever had. Took everything and crushed it beneath his boots. Then had the audacity to come back and ask for a favor. It was time to just let it all go; to push it far behind you and go on forward with your heart guarded and barred from the rest of the universe. To live and die alone.

So why was the thought of never seeing him again making your chest tighten with agony?

You dug your face into your pillow a few times, letting out guttural, violent screams of frustration until your voice nearly gave out.

You should be angry with him. He left, he left, he left.

Just like Luca.

In those solitary hours, you thought a lot about your brother, and how painfully similar this all felt: The resentment that festered in your bones clashing with the deep love and care that resided in your heart. You didn’t want to forgive, but living with these thorns in your side was so fucking exhausting. You wondered if the universe doomed you from birth, never destined for a moment of peace. The warring feelings within you made it impossible to sleep easy, and soon enough, the sun would come up. Mando would be outside rapping on your door and you��d start the day over again. Rinse and repeat.

By the fourth day, the lack of sleep had caught up to you.

Precariously perched on top of a ladder, you took the day to work on the repulsor grilles. Your mind was in a daze. You struggled to figure out which parts go where, and your hands were so clumsy you kept losing your tools to the small slot you’d been tinkering with. After dropping your screwdriver for what seemed to be the seventh time today, you were so fed up that any caution was thrown into the wind. Hot metal and active wires were the least of your worries as you carelessly shoved your hand down the slot for your lost tool. Your fingers grazed the handle, but as you shifted to get a better angle, you felt a burning shock shoot through your arm. You all but ripped your hand from the slot, wincing as you feel something tear at your palm. Your sudden movement was enough to drive the ladder toppling over. Squeezing your eyes shut, you braced for impact. You hear a low grunt as your body collides into Mando’s, strong arms quickly wrapping around your waist to steady you. Your cheeks grow hot at the feeling of him, and for a moment, your body pleads to stay in his arms just a little longer.

“Are you okay?” the low timbre of his voice brings you back from your panic.

You quickly push off of him but hiss at the searing pain radiating from your hand. Turning over your palm, you grimace at the big nasty gash that gushes down your forearm with blood. Mando grips your shoulder and spins you around, trying to take your injured hand.

“Let me see.”

“I’m fine.”

You recoil, holding your palm close to your chest and bleeding all over your shirt. Impatient, he goes in to grasp your wrist and wrestles with you again.

“Will you quit being difficult and hold still?” he growls, voice devoid of any softness. The edge in his voice makes you freeze. It’s the first time on this journey that he spoke so firmly with you. Too tired to fight, you let him take your hand into his and study your injury.

“Sit,” He lets go of your hand and gestures to the ground. “You’re going to need stitches. And then you’re going to rest. I know you haven’t been sleeping.”

“I’m fine,” you grit.

“It wasn’t a suggestion,” he chided harshly, as if lecturing a child, “I don’t need someone wrecking my ship more than it already has. You can work when you’re capable.”

He briskly storms back into the ship to grab the medpack, effectively ending your spat. Collapsing to the ground, you curse under your breath in irritation as you stare at your stinging cut. A piercing ache begins to radiate in your temples and weariness starts to settle into your bones. You’re so tired. The emotional turmoil of the past week had sucked every drop of energy you had left, and you were left feeling like you’d been hit with a landspeeder.

A worried coo draws you from your thoughts, and the child looks up at you expectantly.

“Hey, little guy,” you said, patting his head lightly with your free hand. He gingerly toddles to your thigh and tilts his head at your bloody palm. The kid begins to fuss, gurgling as he claws at the side of your leg. You scoop him up into your lap, and he settles down, satisfied.

“What’s going on, kiddo?”

Then, he closes his eyes and holds his hand out, hovering over yours. You feel the flesh on your wound begin to move. Your gash is closing before your eyes and the skin is completely healed, as if it was never there at all. You pressed your fingers into your palm; the burning pain had subsided and the skin beneath it was completely smooth. Brows furrowed, your eyes dart from your hand to the child, his eyes slowly drooping closed. Your mind is racing. You hear Mando shuffle back out from the Crest, quickly dropping beside you and checking your hand.

You’re both stunned to silence as the child in your lap falls fast asleep.

Early mornings in the forest were cold.

You’d been shivering in front of the fire for a few hours now, wrapped in a threadbare blanket you’d taken from your bed. You stared pensively at your palm, gently tracing your fingers over where a cut should’ve been. With a sigh, you hug your legs to your chest, and rest your forehead on your knees. After the child healed your injury, you thought your shock would’ve kept you from getting rest, but you slipped into sleep the second your head hit your pillow. You woke up later in the middle of the night, insisting to trade shifts with Mando.

“I doubt you want a repeat of yesterday,” you told him, “Go to bed.”

In all honesty, you needed the early hours of dawn to collect yourself as your mind was all over the place. Between the mysterious child, your clashing feelings for your partner and your impulsive career change, your life had seemed to unravel in the span of a week. You thought of the way he spoke to you the day before; he was quick to care for you, but his voice was emotionless and cold. It sounded very similar when he left all those years ago. You know he only means to keep distance between you and respect your wishes. After all, you were the one who wanted to separate for good after this mission, but the ache in your heart told you otherwise.

Pressing the heels of your palms into your eyes, you could only come to a single conclusion: the Mandalorian had successfully derailed your life yet again.

The cry of an animal pulls you from your brooding and you’re swift on your feet with a vibroblade in hand. Stalking around the trees, you keep low in the foliage and slowly move towards the source of the noise. You see a fathier standing on the main trail hooked to a lopsided wooden wagon. Fruit and vegetables were spread all around the road along with a broken wheel. An old man rounded the corner, looking tiredly around him and began picking up the mess. The grip on your blade relaxes. Standing to your full height, you walk forward to meet him on the main path.

“Excuse me, sir,” you call to him, “Do you need help?”

He gawks at you, obviously not expecting anyone to be in the forest. He gives you a smile.

“That is very kind of you. Thank you, child.”

You learn that his name is Amir. He’s a farmer with fields down the road, and for the past 50 years, he’d make the trip every weekend into town to sell his harvest on the same wagon. He tells you how the fathier lost control, pulling the old carriage and damaging the wheel.

“I suppose I must invest in those blasted speeder-whatevers,” he sighs.

You chuckle lightly. He sounds like your father.

“Please, let me fix it for you.”

Amir sits on a rock to the side of the trail, and you try your best to repair the wagon. Making light conversation with him as you work, you spoke of your own family’s orchard and recounted the times you spent on the farm. His company relaxes you and for a moment, you’re able to forget the chaos that consumed your thoughts earlier.

“It’s hard work, this life,” he says, “but it is fruitful all the same.”

You laugh earnestly at his joke. He smiles at you warmly, patting his hands on his knees.

“Where is your family now?”

“They were lost to the Empire. Our farm was burned down.”

He sighs sadly, “War seems to take from us both. I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Please, don’t be. It happened a long time ago,” you say quickly.

A beat of awkward silence passes. Amir changes the subject.

“So what are you doing here? In these woods. You look less like a farm girl and more like a mercenary.”

“Close. I’m a bounty hunter. Our ship crashed just past those trees.”

“You’re with someone else?”

“Yes. A Mandalorian. He’s–” you pause, thinking carefully over your words, “He’s just an old colleague of mine.”

But Amir is a very observant man, and he notices your hesitation.

“Tell me more about this Mandalorian of yours. I’ve never met one before.”

“It’s kind of a long story,” you say sheepishly, “I wouldn’t want to keep you.”

“A long story?” He questions, mischief flashing in his eyes, “I thought he was just a colleague.”

Warmth travels to your cheeks as he looks at you expectantly.

Cheeky old bastard.

But you indulge him, giving him a watered-down version of your history with Mando; how you met, how you worked together for many years before you parted ways, and how he came back asking you to help with his weird magical son. Amir listened intently, and when you finished, his face was pulled in thought.

“It’s a bit odd for a bounty hunter to have a child, isn’t it?” He wonders aloud, “I take it isn’t the safest profession in the world. I could see how he could need the help.”

You chew on your bottom lip, attention focused on twisting a screw.

“We... didn’t split on the best terms. It wouldn’t be good for the baby.”

“I see.”

Amir notes your sudden change in demeanour, observing the way you tensed at the subject.

“Did you love him?”

You freeze, heart pounding loudly in your chest at the thought. You know the answer, but you’re terrified to speak it aloud, as if Mando could hear you utter it into the universe.

So you answered him honestly.

“I’m angry with him.”

He lets out a hearty laugh.

“My dear, you can be angry with someone and still love them.”

What a nosy man.

You shrug laughing lightly with him as you go back to work. As you mull over his words, you find them resonating deep within you. Had it been anyone else, you probably would’ve ignored or straight-up denied the question, but connecting with Amir had made you feel comfortable to speak freely. It felt cathartic to put your feelings into words.

“You know, Imperial soldiers occupied the town for many, many years. My daughter decided to join the rebellion after she joined the local militia. We got into a terrible argument, begged her not to fight, to stay home but–” Amir struggles to finish. You’d stopped your tinkering with the wheel, instead listening carefully to his story. Your heart twisted, as the grief he felt was very familiar. You reached out to hold his wrinkled hand, giving him a sad smile.

Amir takes a breath, looking wistfully towards the treetops as he continues,

“Sometimes, when people hurt us, we think we want nothing more to do with them. But when they’re gone, we only regret the love we never spoke out loud.”

Din thought he was dreaming when he woke up to the smell of cooking food.

When he left the Razor Crest, you were feeding the child a small bowl of sautéed vegetables and rice. To the side of the camp, he spotted bags of fresh produce and grain. You greet him with a relaxed grin.

“You know, some of the things you’ve kept in there haven’t been touched since we split. It was kind of disgusting.”

He’s so confused.

“Where did you get all of this?” He asks.

“There was a man who broke down on the side of the road. I helped fix his wagon and he gave us food in return.”

You pat the child’s head as he finishes up his meal and take him into one arm. Din only stares, bewildered, as you pick up a dish that was sitting by the fire pit and hold it out to him.

“Eat. And when you’re done, come find me,” you say, “We need to talk.”

“We need to talk.”

Words stronger than any weapon.

Anxiety churned in his stomach, nearly rendering him incapable of keeping any food down. But your cooking was leagues better than any ration pack that he’d had in weeks; Din wasn’t about to (literally) throw the opportunity away, especially if this was some of the last moments he’d ever have with you. He ate slowly, savoring every bite, heart warming at the way you made it especially spicy for him. From the window of the cockpit, Din watched you leisurely skip rocks across the water while the child excitedly wandered along the shore. It was almost unsettling how quickly your energy had changed within a day; it reminded him of the days before he left. The days where there wasn’t a giant rift between you.

When he finished his meal, Din rounded the corner of the ship expecting to see you at the shore, but you were nowhere to be found. He approached the edge of the water and stared at the abandoned pile of smooth stones. The next thing he knew, he was being roughly tugged by his arm and thrown flat on his back, knocking the wind out of him. He gasped, chest heaving for air and adrenaline coursing through his veins. As he struggled to prop himself up on his elbows, you meandered into his view. He expected to see your face contorted with rage once again, but to his surprise, your expression was cool and collected as you pulled at the wraps around your hands.

“We’re gonna spar,” you say, tone suspiciously even, “And you’re gonna tell me everything about the kid.”

Din stares, bewildered as you tower over him.

“Why?”

You still don’t look at him directly, instead tugging tightly at the cloth against your wrist and checking if you’re satisfied with your work.

“If memory serves me correctly, we’re still evenly matched. 350 to 350,” you say, not even bothering to address the second part of your demands.

But Din will take whatever you give him at this point, so he complies and swipes at your ankles with his legs, knocking you down. Taking the opportunity to get back onto his feet, he squares himself into position. You propel yourself back to your feet with much more grace, brushing yourself off and bringing up your fists. Din swears he can see faint lines of a smile on your lips and a glint of excitement in your eyes.

“Don’t hold back. Even if I’m mad at you.”

He smirks.

“Never.”

You were always better at close combat than he was; the nature of your preferred weapon required so. But what Din lacked in skill, he made up for in stamina, and that’s why he was able to keep your little competition even for such a long time. Your fight had been going for nearly an hour, and at this point, you’d normally tire out and start getting sloppy from exhaustion. But your residual feelings of frustration and dream of kicking his ass for the past three years kept you fierce on your toes. It also helped that he had a story to tell.

You listened attentively as Mando told you of the Mudhorn in between your relentless assault of jabs and kicks, how the child used his strange powers to lift a giant beast and how it was unlike anything he’d ever seen before. He also told you how he actually delivered the kid to the client, but turned back to rescue him before the Imperials had a chance to do any harm. (You noted how his voice dipped slightly in shame admitting this to you.) He told you of Sorgan, Tatooine and his reunion with Ran, and how no matter what system he seemed to end up in, the child was always in danger. As you processed this information, your attention seemed to slip, and Mando was able to throw a punch straight into your nose.

You stumble backwards, cursing at the pain and feeling warm liquid pooling on your upper lip. He relents for a moment, pacing towards you in worry.

“Shit, I’m sorry–”

You cut him off by gripping his arm, using his momentum to drive him over your shoulder and throw him on his stomach. Pressing your boot into his back and pinning him firmly against the ground, you tease.

“Not the first time I had you like this, Mando.”

You keep your foot firm against him as he struggles to push himself up against you, heavy breaths crackling through the vocoder of his helmet. Eventually, he relents and holds up his hands in surrender.

Pride blooms warmly in your chest, and you collapse on the ground next to him.

I nearly broke one of his ribs this time. You’re dizzy as you come down from the high of adrenaline coursing through you, exhaustion settling into your sore body.

“If I sustain another injury on this stupid mission, I’m taking all the credits for myself,” you say, wiping the blood gushing from your nose.

You hear him chuckle lightly beside you.

“You deserve it. I’ve been a total ass.”

“That, you have.”

Catching your breath, you focus on the sounds of birds in the trees, and the feeling of wind cooling and relaxing your body. It was so tempting to just give into him, but you remembered what you called him here for– why you initiated a duel in the first place. The talk with Amir this morning helped clear your head, but it still terrified you to address it all.

You take a deep breath, basking a little longer in this moment of peace.

“Thanks for not holding back,” you said earnestly, pointing to your nose.

Standing up and brushing the dirt from your clothes, you turn to him and hold out a hand.

“Are we good?” he asks, hope slipping through his voice.

“No. Not even close,” your lips curl into a sad smile, “But it’s a start.”

You pull him up to his feet, and your grasp on one another lingers for a fleeting moment. You’re the first to let go, brushing your sweaty palms against your pants. Walking to the shore of the lake, you take a few rocks in your hands and continue skipping them across the still surface of the water. Your heart is racing; you feel his gaze on you, expectant for … something, anything.

“When my brother left to become a rebel,” you began, voice taught with anxiety, “I was only 18 years old. For a long time, I was so angry with him. Who leaves their only family behind? Alone? To fend for themselves? I was–I was convinced I didn’t care what happened to him after that. That I hated him. ”

Something painful catches in your throat. You skip another rock.

“We were so young. He wanted to take me with him, y’know? Find the Moff that killed our family and get revenge. Destroy the Empire and end their reign of terror. I was too afraid; all I could think about living to see another day. But after a while, I missed him so much–I just wanted my family again. I started to regret not going with him, but then I met you.”

Mando didn’t respond, listening carefully and hanging on your every word.

“And when you came along, it felt... nice to let someone in again. Not just as a coworker but as a friend. To not be alone. To have someone in my life. To– ”

To fall deeply, wholly, and beautifully in love.

Frustrated, you grip the smooth stone in your hand tightly. You feel like you’re rambling; there’s just so much.

Mando finally speaks, “Y/N, what are you saying?”

“I’m saying that I’m still hurt and angry,” your voice was beginning to tremble, “That being abandoned for a second time was the worst feeling in the galaxy. I need you to know that.”

You hear him walk towards you, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“Mesh’la, please look at me,” he pleads.

“But I also need you to know that and I left things like this, I’d never find peace.”

You turn around to face him, tears in your eyes and heart leaping in your throat.

“Because there was a time where I thought I’d know you forever. And I don’t want to let it go.”

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#migraine #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian/reader #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin/reader #baby yoda #IVE BEEN WORKING ON THIS SINCE LIKE 7AM DJSKLA;FDSFJK #LEO POST ON TIME CHALLENGE

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shadowluverworks · 5 years ago

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Remissionem - Chapter 5

If you’ve been keeping up with the show, Della has returned to Earth. In this story however, Della is still gone, and her whereabouts are unknown, she is presumed dead.

This story has some gore in it, considering it’s about a family overcoming an accident and fighting mortality. Reader discretion advised as I work at a veterinary clinic, so wounds and the treatment of them may be described rather realistically. If you have a squeamish stomach, I suggest not reading these sections. For those of my readers who like this sort of stuff, I hope you are satisfied you creepy little nerds! Thanks for reading guys!

Chapter 5: Is Stronger

The sudden quiet is a bit unsettling. Louie stands from his chair to peek over the balcony again at his family below. His great uncle is covered by a thick white blanket from feet all the way to his shoulders, eyes closed and head resting back on the pillow behind him. His uncle sits a yard or two away to the rich duck’s right, leaning against the plane’s side, head hanging, and hands folded over his middle, obviously asleep from the snores emanating from him. Huey’s on the opposite side, sleeping on his left with back to the plane’s wall. Dewey and Webby lay in the middle of the plane, a couple yards away from Scrooge. The middle child sleeps on his back, arms and legs sprawled out and away from his body in a starfish like position. Webby rests on her front, head turned to her right and away from the others resting on one hand.

It seems safe to go back down. The youngest triplet can feel his own tired body longing for a rest, he’d like to join the others in their slumber. But there’s something else that pulls him towards them, something he’s been trying to avoid.

He turns to Launchpad, hands in his pocket, “I’m gonna go down there, you ok up here by yourself?”

The pilot nods, “All good here. We still have a little less than 5 hours to go yet.”

Louie nods his head in return and turns to go down the ladder. He’s not concerned leaving the other alone, the main reason he had come up here was to be away from the bloody scene below. Launchpad is more than capable of keeping them on the right path, as he’s proven many times before. Landing of course is a different story, but one they wouldn’t have to worry about for several hours.

As he reaches the ground floor and turns back to where his family sleeps, he almost jumps at seeing the dark turquoise eyes watching his every move. He must have wakened the old duck; he had thought he was being quiet though. Placing his hands back in his hoodie pocket, he silently walks over to his great uncle, pausing at his covered feet.

He speaks quietly to not wake the others, “Hey, you’re awake? How ya doin’?”

Scrooge doesn’t move, his voice low but soft, “Bin better.”

Louie’s green eyes show concern, though his face tries to mask it in his usual neutral stare. His gaze sweeps around the rich duck, but with the blanket covering, he can’t see any of the injuries, except the large gash on the left forehead that’s quickly forming a black eye. It’s the first time he can really look at his great uncle again without his stomach churning at the sight of blood, though he avoids looking straight in the eyes. There are still some red-brown smears over the other’s face and head in places, but not nearly as severe as it had been, “Looks like they patched ya up.”

Scrooge’s beak dips slightly, “They did well, teh lot o’ them.”

The youngest triplet’s gaze falls to the ground and away, as if contemplating something. This isn’t the first time he’s been avoiding looking directly at the rich duck. Anytime his eyes fall on the one before him, it’s brief and uncomfortable, as if it pains him to look at the other.

His great uncle can read him despite his efforts to hide; it’s the same expression a young Donald used to wear when he felt guilty. The wealthy loner isn’t the best talking about feelings, and speaking in general isn’t the easiest thing right now, but it seems the boy needs to get something off his chest, “Is there somethin’ ye want tae talk aboot?”

Louie is taken aback by the question, but sighs in defeat and pads over to the Scottish duck’s right side, sliding down the plane’s wall and taking a seat beside him, knees drawn up to his chest. For a while neither of them says anything.

Scrooge straightens his posture a bit, wincing. The blanket loosens around him and he lowers it to his lap, laying his good arm overtop it. His head turns towards the duckling beside him, “What’s on yer mind, laddie?”

Louie’s eyes glance at him in his peripheral vision. With the blanket moved, the boy can see several bruises and scrapes littering his great uncle’s torso, as well as the long row of stitches on his upper right arm and left still in its sling. He purposefully sat on this side to avoid the gory, stitched and bruised ribcage, but his hesitance to face his great uncle is no longer just because of the injuries that have now stopped leaking the red liquid.

“I...” His voice faulters as he searches for the words he wants, “I feel...bad...”

“Yer nae well?”

Bangs shake with their owner’s head, “No, I mean...I feel bad for you...”

Scrooge blinks, “Fer me? Ye donnae have tae pity me fer what happened.”

Louie shakes his head slightly again, “It’s not that. I mean, yea I feel bad about you getting hurt but,” he pauses again, eyes glancing around on floor in front of him, “I feel bad because, the first thing that came to my head was, ‘at least it wasn’t Uncle Donald.’”

The old duck is silent next to him, and the boy’s legs draw closer to his frame as he cradles them, resting his chin on his knees. He feels as if the man next to him must be offended by the statement, but still nothing is said. He can’t bear to even peek at Scrooge now, not wanting to see the pained expression that was surely on the elder’s face.

Louie needs to explain, he can’t just leave things there as much as he wants to stop already, eyes starting to well up, “If Uncle Donald was the one that got hit...if he had...” He cuts himself off with a sniff, but Scrooge knows what he meant. If he had died.

Donald is certainly younger than himself, but also is not on good terms with Lady Fortuna. Would the sailor had survived the same ordeal he went through? It was a miracle he survived. Donald was the only parent the boys had ever known, and without him, what would become of them?

Louie lifts his head a little, “He raised us, if something happened to him...I don’t wanna think about life without him in it...But I’m so,” he grabs the feathers on the sides of his head tightly, squeezing his eyes shut, “disgusted with myself for even having a thought like that! Being relieved that it was you and not him!”

Hot tears are flowing down his cheeks now, and he wraps his arms tightly around his knees once again, “I never wanted anything to happen to you, Uncle Scrooge.” His eyes stare off ahead of him, a haunted look in them, “And then seeing you all...bloody and hurt!” He looks at his crimson stained sleeves and hands as one reaches his face, “That picture’s stuck in my head! I feel so guilty! How could I ever think something that terrible?!”

The green eyes shimmer up at him as the boy finally looks at his great uncle, wounds and all, expecting to see disappointment. Instead, the boy sees a small smile.

Scrooge’s eyelids lower slightly, “The same thought ran through my head.”

Louie’s eyes widen, “W-What?”

The rich duck takes a breath, “The last thing ah want is one ‘a ye gitten hurt. Ah’d do anythin’ in me power tae keep that from happenin’, even if it means puttin’ meself at risk.” The elder can’t be upset with the boy for being thankful his guardian was spared; he was never mad at the duckling to begin with.

Louie blinks a few times, tears still actively running down his flushed cheeks as he wipes at his nose with his sleeve with a sniff. He looks away again, still not completely convinced he shouldn’t be ashamed of himself, and that the other isn’t angry at him.

His great uncle continues, “Louie, we cannae help what runs through our heads sometimes, but ye have nothin’ tae be sorry fer. Ah knoo ye didnae mean any harm.”

The young duckling looks back up at him, seeing the same warm smile that was there before. The old duck really isn’t upset? Not hurt or offended by what he had said? What the other had said runs through his own head; Scrooge would gladly trade his own life if it meant keeping his family safe. He has no regrets.

Louie sniffs again, and scoots closer to the bigger avian’s side, before leaning his head against the right wing, avoiding the large gash. His tiny arms wrap around the rich duck’s, clinging to the other.

Scrooge blinks in surprise at the outward affection, he’s not the best at this either. But his smile returns, and he pats the boy’s knee next to him, “There, there, laddie. ‘s alright.”

They stay like that for a long time, neither saying anything more. Soon the sniffles at his side stop, and the boy’s breathing becomes deep and regular. Scrooge glances down, seeing the duckling’s eyes are closed, fast asleep. He smiles again, laying his head back with a sigh. Eyes close to try and rest once more, unaware that the sailor’s snoring had ceased a while ago.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He’s running through the jungle, jumping over dead trees and avoiding the large green leaves that hang in his path. Small branches grab at his face and leave scratches, but he can’t worry about that now.

His webbed feet carry him as fast as they can until they reach their destination: a small clearing in the usually dense forest. Here he pauses, taking in what lies in wait for him, what he’s been searching for. A bloodied and broken body that he never thought could look so...mortal. He runs to the body, quickly looking for any signs of life. There is none.

He pants in exertion and disbelief. Dead. He’s dead. Impossible! Scrooge McDuck had already lived well past his life expectancy. The death-defying stunts he pulls on a day to day basis only keep him more alive! He shouldn’t be dead, can’t be dead! But there’s no breathing beneath his fingers, and his white feathers are actively soaking up the crimson stains. There’s no heart beating in the chest. He’s kneeling in a pool of his great uncle’s life source.

As if they were ghosts, his family manifests beside him, all expressing the same horror as he is. His younger brother his sobbing in between his vomiting episodes in the bushes at the gore of the scene. His older brother is paging through his beloved book in his shaking hands, as if trying to believe there still might be some glimmer of hope. Though there’s tears running down his face as he refuses to acknowledge what’s before him. Webby’s hot tears drip onto their elder’s face as she cradles his head, trying desperately to hold back her sobs.

Suddenly he’s pushed away, falling on his posterior as he retreats backward a ways. His uncle kneels to the ground, facing away from him, body leaning over the motionless one. His shoulders tremble in between sobs, he’s never seen his uncle cry so hard before.

As if sensing his thoughts, Donald’s face whips around to glare at him. Salty tears run down his beak as his face turns from sorrowful to enraged. His voice shouts, “YOU!”

Dewey flinches.

The sailor’s voice has never been so accusing. His uncle stands and walks to him, “You just had to make us all keep going, even after that trap was sprung!”

The middle child’s face pales.

His younger brother lifts his head from where he’d buried it in his hands, flushed and bright red, “I knew it was too dangerous! But you never listen to me!”

His older brother lowers the book, eyes glaring holes into his own, “There were so many things that could have gone wrong. Anyone could have seen that! Why didn’t you think before you made us all follow you!”

Dewey shakes his head, “No...I-I didn’t know this would happen! No one could have known there was another boulder!”

“Dewey...” Webby sniffs, stroking the head feathers on Scrooge’s head. Her glance moves to his own, “You should have been more careful. You know how old he was! Look what you did!” Her voice is trembling, and he can feel his heart break as he follows her gaze to his great uncle’s body.

His body is shaking as he takes a step back, tears welling up in his bright blue eyes, “No...I didn’t...it was such a simple trap! We’ve been through so many worse ones!”

Donald stomps closer, making him move back quickly before falling over a branch and onto his backside once again. His uncle towers over him, “Why do you think he even went on adventures anymore at his age?! It’s because of you!”

Eyes widen in disbelief as the sailor continues, “You always want to go on all these dangerous missions, and he just wanted to impress you! He didn’t want you to think he was boring or too old! Now look what happened!”

Tears are starting to run down his face, “Uncle Donald-”

“Don’t call me that!”

He flinches, cowering away from the other.

The older duck’s eyes narrow in disgust, “This is your fault!”

Dewey’s head shakes, “No!”

“He’s dead because of you!”

“NO!”

“His blood is on your hands!”

Dewey’s eyes peer down to his trembling hands, seeing the red substance staining them, “NO!”

A gasp is heard as the middle child sits up in a cold sweat, lungs heaving to try and get much needed air back into them. A hand grips his chest as he leans over slightly, staring at the red metal floor of the Sunchaser. The nightmare shook him to his core, he hasn’t dreamt like that in a long while.

His face feels wet and he rubs the back of a hand over it. Tears are actively running down his face, but the sight of the dried blood on his fingers, now brightened by the sudden moisture, makes his breath pick up again. He gasps for air as he urgently tries to wipe away the crimson stains covering his person. His hands move up and down his sleeves and over each other trying to rid themselves of the offensive color in vain. More tears come to his eyes as the substance clings to his body, and he covers his head, eyes squeezing shut to block out the image.

“Dewey?”

His head pops up at his name, eyes wide. He follows the source of the sound to find his great uncle staring back at him, face full of surprise and concern.

That’s right, Scrooge didn’t die. He wasn’t still laying in a jungle somewhere waiting to rot or be ravaged by animals, and his family hadn’t blamed Dewey for the accident.

The rich duck still sits where the middle child had left him in the land of the conscious, on the blankets and leaning against a pillow on the plane’s side. A thick quilt covers him from the waist down, leaving his upper body bare. Louie sits next to him, knees pulled up to his chest and leaning against Scrooge’s right wing with his arms tightly wrapped around it, fast asleep.

Dewey tries to calm himself as his mind starts to come back, taking deeper breaths. His hand wipes away his tears, hoping his great uncle hadn’t seen them, “Uncle Scrooge?” The wetness leaves red stains across his face, only leaving more evidence behind.

Scrooge’s eyebrows furrow together even more. He had seen the lad crying, in fact he’d seen everything. The duckling, sleeping peacefully for quite some time, had started becoming restless. His body would twist back and forth, his deep breaths now a pant, face screwed into something resembling pain. The old duck could have sworn he heard the child mutter his own name at least once, and then the tears had started. He was about to try and wake the boy up himself from what was surely a bad dream before the blue eyes suddenly popped open and the small body sat up.

He had thought that would be the end of it, but then witnessed Dewey trying desperately to remove the blood from his hands and clothes. Afraid the boy was going to hurt himself in his panic, he called out to him.

Scrooge could sympathize with the blue triplet, he himself struggled with night terrors. Making many enemies along the years has made his mind expect tragedy to befall himself or worse, his family. Many a time has he dreamt his kin were in danger and woke swinging at nothingness in his bedroom.

However, even familial problems can make his dreams turn against him. When they had lost Della, his nightmares were so severe he had become an insomniac just to escape from them. Eventually he managed to sleep again, once the exhaustion had caught up, but those dreams still haunt him to this day, and return every now and then.

He doesn’t like thinking about the times when his cursing, screaming, and even crying had attracted Mrs. Beakley and Duckworth to his room, thinking he was being attacked. If he was not already awake, they would have to physically shake him to save his poor trapped mind. Even though they saw him at his weakest, trying desperately to cease his tears and rubbing his forehead to calm his psyche, they never held anything against him. They would offer their assistance, knowing they would be turned down, and act as if nothing happened the next day to preserve their employer’s pride.

The rich duck tries to soothe his great nephew, “Seems ye had a nasty one.”

Dewey’s panting is starting to return to normal, but his sniffles are still very much active, “...yeah...” His arms rest on his knees, glancing over at the other with sad expression.

Scrooge pats the spot next to him, in front of Louie, beckoning him over. The middle triplet hesitates for just a moment before accepting the invitation, crawling the short distance onto the padded spot and laying down next to his great uncle. His back lay to the plane’s side and away from the older duck’s prying eyes. His younger brother’s feet tuck underneath his back. His head rests on Scrooge’s lap, facing away from him.

They sit for a bit, the older duck shifting just slightly to accompany more weight onto his broken frame, holding back a grunt but allowing the wince to show as his great nephew couldn’t see it at this angle. Finally settling again, his arm rests out of the way to give the two triplets room.

Dewey holds still, lifting his head slightly when the body adjusts underneath him, and trying to convince himself he wasn’t harming it. When it stills, he lays back again, tears still dripping onto the blanket beneath him, but starting to dry up.

His mind starts to wander, why is Scrooge still awake? He’d have expected him to be passed out or at least resting peacefully by now. Everyone else is sleeping around them, thankfully not hearing his outburst. His voice is quiet, so much so it can barely be heard, “Did I wake you up?”

His great uncle’s straining ears manage to pick it up over the Sunchaser’s engine, “Nae. Haven’t slept a wink.”

Dewey’s head turns to look at him, eyebrows furrowed in concern. Scrooge give a small smile, almost a sad one. He doesn’t want to tell the child how his body aches. How the pain is so intense he can’t find solace in sleep, even though every fiber of his being yearns for it. He can’t tell the hurting duckling that having the two of them lean against him is causing even more pain to wrack his battered body. No, he keeps that to himself. There are more important things to worry about.

Dewey reaches with a hand to feel what lays under the blanket, trying to determine where exactly his head rests. He’s on the broken leg, but above the splint, in the corner of his eye, he can see his great uncle’s face twitching at his touch. He removes his hand, “I’m not hurting you, am I?”

The smile widens a bit, “Nae, donnae worry aboot me.”

It seems convincing; Dewey turns his head back and sighs.

His dream’s memory returns, the body before him, his family in tears, the blood on his hands. He lifts one to look at the red stains.

Scrooge watches him, “Ye wanna talk aboot it? Yer dream?”

Dewey tucks his hand to his chest and shakes his head. He doesn’t want to relive that.

The rich duck accepts it and doesn’t enquire anymore, leaning his head back to rest, he almost misses the soft, trembling, voice.

“...I’m sorry.”

Lifting his head again, he tries to look at the duckling’s face, who’s turned it closer to the blankets, “Eh? ‘Sorry’? Fer what?”

The tears have started anew, wetting the quilt atop his legs. The boy trembles, “For what happened; it’s my fault. I-I insisted that we keep going even after that trap w-was sprung...we could have found another way around; we could have been safer...but I m-made us all keep going...and then Uncle Donald...and-and you...”

He doesn’t want to hear anymore, “Dewey. Donnae ye even dare blame yerself fer this. ‘s nae yer fault. It was jus’ an accident.”

The middle triplet buries his face into the blanket further, tiny hand gripping it tightly as he sobs, “...but...but I-”

“Ah donnae wanna hear it! With all teh adventures we’ve bin on, that death trap was a walk in teh park. We’ve been through much worse! Teh fact no one’s gotten hurt yet is a bit miraculous.”

Dewey sniffs and turns to look at him. Again, those glistening blue eyes stare up at his face, “You’re not mad? You don’t blame me?”

Scrooge lets out a small chuckle, making his ribs scream at him, but he ignores their cry, “Of course not! If it was anyone’s fault, it was me own fer not gittin outta teh way in time!” He sighs, “These old bones arennae as quick as they used ta be.”

To his relief, the middle child smiles just a bit, turning his head back again, “Thanks, Uncle Scrooge.”

He smiles in return, lifting his good hand and placing it on the boy’s head, ruffling the head feathers, “Don’ ever blame yerself fer what happened. You’ll only make yerself miserable.” Ah should knoo. He blamed himself for their mother’s absence for years, and still struggles with it.

The triplet beneath his caressing hand relaxes, “I won’t.”

It’s as if he can feel the guilt leaving the duckling’s body, a soft sigh escaping. Soon the child is motionless beneath him, hopefully back to a more peaceful slumber.

Right as he’s about to try and rest again himself, a sniffle reaches his ears. Following the sound, the old duck’s head turns to his left where he’s met with the tearful sight of the oldest triplet. “Huey?”

The boy’s amber eyes flick to his, meekly meeting his eye contact. The red garbed duckling must have awoken at some point during his and Dewey’s conversation, or perhaps even before that. He’s sitting up in the same location where he had previously been sleeping.

Huey’s eyes travel between his siblings and his great uncle, before the rich duck invites him over with a small gesture of his head. The oldest boy is quick to accept and moves to join his family. He’s careful to avoid the wounded arm, and instead mirrors Dewey, laying on his right side on the padded spot. His head rests on the Scrooge’s left leg, back facing the old duck, but snuggles a bit closer than his brother.

The injured avian adjusts to having even more weight on his battered body, trying not to wake the other two sleeping children. His smile still present, he addresses the oldest triplet, “What’s teh matter?”

Huey is a bit more outspoken of his own feelings than his two brothers and Scrooge isn’t surprised when his question is immediately answered, “I just wish I could help more. Seeing you hurt like this makes me want to fix the problem, but I don’t like accepting that I can’t fix everything. I couldn’t set your dislocated arm even though I knew what I was doing, I can’t sew up wounds like Webby and Uncle Donald, and I can’t fix the pain that you’re still in. We don’t have any painkillers!”

Scrooge shakes his head just slightly in disbelief with the ever-present smile still sitting on his face, “Huey, ye knoo ye cannae fix everythin’. Sometimes ye have tae accept that.”

Even though he can only see the back of the boy’s head, he can tell it’s disappointed. He continues, “But ye’ve already helped me so much. Ye helped Dewey fix me arm, and ye were smart enough tae find supplies tae make a splint fer me leg! Without ye ah’d be in a great deal more pain. Might nae ‘ave made it home.”

Huey contemplates that. He was the one who directed his younger brother how to fix the dislocated arm. If they hadn’t fixed that, then it’s entirely possible getting Scrooge back to the Sunchaser would have been more difficult. Being in constant overwhelming pain, and having to ride on your nephew’s back, would not be an ideal way to travel. Plus had he not have suspected a break in the entrepreneur’s leg, Scrooge could have insisted he walk out of the jungle, and only do more damage to it and the rest of his body. Lastly, he assisted Dewey in stabilizing the broken leg until they reach home. Huey hadn’t fixed everything, but he did make a difference.

A tiny smile pulls on the boy’s small beak, “Thanks, I...guess I did help.”

As the revelation hits the oldest triplet, a hand is placed over his own on the rich duck’s leg, Dewey having reached out to his older brother.

Scrooge’s eyebrows raise, he thought the boy was asleep, but had apparently been listening to their conversation.

Huey’s first finger moves on top of his brother’s hand in appreciation, wordless consoling passing between the siblings. His eyes close, “We’re really glad you’re ok, Uncle Scrooge. We were scared you were...” He cuts himself off just a moment, swallowing, and nuzzling closer to his great uncle, “We just met you. We don’t wanna lose you.”

The Scottish duck’s beak parts slightly and he blinks in surprise. At the eldest duckling’s confession, Dewey replicates his brother’s actions and snuggles closer, turning his head towards the blanket beneath him to be closer yet. Scrooge’s bewilderment is only heightened as he feels the youngest triplet, dormant for nearly an hour and half, tighten the hold on his trapped right arm and tuck the small beak closer still.

Suddenly he’s blinking rapidly. Tears are stinging at his eyes, and he has to put a stop to them before it’s too late. There’s an ache in his chest, a welcomed one. Scrooge hasn’t felt this...loved in a long time. He has to control his body’s trembling before the boy’s catch on. Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, he calms his emotions, “Ye won’t, lads. Ah promise.”

Dewey smiles. The hand on his head continues to caress his head feathers, providing calming sensations. He won’t bring attention to the shakes he feels in the stroking fingers.

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svtmatokis · 6 years ago

Note

Hello! I fell in love with your work and I was wondering if I could get a story where Vernon helps you study your med school notes or something? Thank you sm!!!

Hi!! Sorry it took so long but there were so many directions I could’ve taken this in. I hope you enjoy it and if it was what you wanted ^_^

Pairing: Reader x Vernon

Genre: Fluff

Words: 1912

“ I REALLY cant go out today.” you said into your phone while walking to your dorm room..

“Y/N come on!!! It’s the final party before finals! You HAVE to go!” the boy on the other line said in a whining tone and you sighed.

“Finals are the reason why, I can’t go out tonight. I need to study, med school doesn’t pay for itself you know.” you said as the boy on the other line snickered.

“It does for me.”

His statement caused you to roll your eyes, “Well considering your father is the director of the university hospital…anyways I can’t go out tonight. My first exam is the day after tomorrow and I need to study and finalize my notes.””

The boy sighed on the other side but you noticed it sounded more exhausted than frustrated., “Fine…Where are you now?”

“Just about to get back to….my…” your hand which was holding the phone dropped to the side as you stared the person standing by your room door.

“Vernon?”

Vernon looked at you with a nod of his head and hung up the phone. “Let’s go.”

You and Vernon met on the first day of Medical School and were assigned to the same lab group. Many tried to befriend him to get on the directors good side and Vernon was well aware of that. It was the main reason why Vernon kept his friend circle tight and you were one of the lucky ones.

You intrigued him with your professionalism and also the fact that you didn’t openly flirt with him like alot of the female med school population did. He liked that you were always striving to do you best and always ended up in the top 1 percentile only second to him. It was a friendly competition the two of you had and to this day, he would only beat you by the slightest in marks

What he didn’t know was that you were working hard to keep up your grades. You had admitted to yourself long ago that you had crush on Vernon but never thought he’d feel the same way and never acted on your feelings.

“I told you, I can’t go out tonight-” you tried to explain while opening your door but he cut you off.

“I’m helping you study tonight Y/N.” he said stepping inside your room and made himself comfortable on your bed while looking at your exam calendar that you had on your wall. You were fortunate enough to not have a roommate and made good use of the space.

“You don’t have to Vernon….” you said as you put your things away and took out the books you needed to study.

“I know I don’t have to.” he chuckled, “But I want to. Come on, we have a long night ahead of us and I have several take out menu’s in my bag so you can choose what you want for dinner after.”

You smiled at him as he grinned at you, “Are you sure?”

“Sure that I want Chinese tonight? I was thinking more fried chicken…” he said pretending to not know what you were talking about making you roll your eyes.

“The party Vernon, I know it’s the biggest one before finals..”

“And you’re right, finals are important so let’s get the books cracking young lady.” he said taking your closest textbook and handed it to you finally making you give in.

For the next few hours you and Vernon sat on your bed as he helped you review your notes for each class. You were well aware of how close your bodies were getting as you readjusted yourselves to get more comfortable. In the end, you were sitting between his legs as he quizzed you over your shoulder. His breath tickling your ear as he spoke and you could almost feel the brush of his lips on your cheek. You tried not to blush at the almost contact and focussed on your notes.

“Okay, I need a break!” you said lying down as your shirt rode up exposing your mid drift.

Vernon watched as you stretched with a small smile. He knew you were ready for finals and despite lacking the confidence there was no doubt that you’d do well. He looked at his phone to check the time and agreed. It was about time for dinner anyways.

“Are you hungry?” he asked and at the same time your stomach growled causing the two of you to giggle.

“I guess we have our answer.” you said as you held your hands up towards him. “Can you pull me up? I worked out yesterday and I’m still sore.”

Vernon grabbed your hand and pulled you towards him so your faces were only inches apart.

“Thank you,” you said almost breathless from the force of the pull. Your small hand remained pinned under his much larger one behind him but you didn’t bother to try to pull away.

He smirked at you and brought his face closer to yours and tilted his head so your lips almost met. You could feel his breath brush against your lips and if either if you had moved a mere centimeter, your lips would have touched.

“No problem” he whispered before releasing your hand and you pulled away trying to calm your heart, that was threatening to jump out of your chest.

“So…what should we order?” you asked as you hid your face behind the menus so he couldnt see your face.

“Mmmm, I was thinking fried chicken…but if you want something else-” he started saying but you cut him off.

“No fried chicken’s fine” you said looking through the menu. After ordering the food, you went back to reviewing your notes as you continued to calm your beating heart as Vernon went through the various messages he got from his friends who were all at the party.

He looked down at you and smiled, even if his friends were having a blast without him, he was happy that you agreed to let him help you study. He knew the day would come where he was going to tell you his feelings but also took into consideration that this was your hardest year and the labs and homework came first. As the years went on, Vernon was starting to realize that he was seeing less and less of you. He knew that you were volunteering part time at a local hospital to build up your repertoire and between that and school, you barely had time to meet up with your own friends and he was almost sure that if it weren’t for your best friend Eunwoo; who secretly updated Vernon of your whereabouts from time to time, you would forget to eat.

Once the food arrived, the books were put away and you turned on a movie while the two of you ate in silence till all the food was gone. The movie continued playing and the two of you made yourselves comfortable on your bed promising to get back to the books once it was over.

The weight on Vernon’s shoulder told him otherwise.He looked at you from the corner of his eye and chuckled softly.

“Typical Y/N”

He moved his arm so that it was now wrapped around your shoulder and he gently moved your head so that it was placed in a more comfortable position on his chest. He decided that he would finish the movie first and then decide what to do after, plus you had studied so hard and deserved the rest and he couldn’t find it in his heart to wake you.

A few hours later, Vernon was getting ready to leave after he tucked you into bed. He found sleeping you so cute that he turned on another movie to savor the moment of having your head on his chest. He tidied around your room before finally picking up his backpack. Leaning down to kiss your forehead he whispered, “I’ll see you after finals are over.”

He knew that once you woke up tomorrow, you’d be on lock down and probably wouldn’t do anything until your last test was done. He was the same way and was preparing for the ones he had himself. He made a mental note to text Eunwoo tomorrow to make sure that you had something to eat or may he would drop by with lunch…yea maybe he’d do that..

Vernon was right though, outside of his and Eunwoo’s periodic drop bys to your room with food and in Vernon’s case, to study more. You did not leave your room willingly until a week later when your last exam was done.

A few weeks later, the results were posted and you fought your way through the crowd of people to see what your marks were.You had a feeling you didn’t do too well this time around, having lost a lot of sleep thinking of a certain Hospital Director’s son and what not but you had to at least done decently right?

As you got to the front, people turned to look at you with shocked faces while others started whispering. Looking up at the results, your jaw dropped.

“Congratulations. I knew you’d do well.” a voice said behind you causing you to whip around and there was Vernon holding a bouquet of flowers in one hand while wearing a smirk on his face.

He took a step towards you, “I was going to wait till after grad…but I really don’t think I can wait that long anymore…” he cleared his throat as he noticed that people had formed a circle around the two of you, “You are one of the hardest working people I know and I know how important becoming a doctor is for you and I had no doubt that you’d top the class this year. My dad even called it when he saw your lab reports but I didn’t believe him until now.”

Vernon looked down, it was now or never. Looking back up at you, his eyes were filled with hope and you couldn’t help but feel the same way. Did this mean…Was he saying what you thought he was going to say?

“I didn’t want to ask you then because I knew we weren’t ready. But I really really can’t wait anymore Y/N. Put me out of my misery, stitch up my heart and be mine….please?”

The next thing you knew, your arms were around his neck holding him tightly as he lifted you off the ground and spun you around as howls from whom you assumed were from Vernon’s friends were heard off in the distance.

Once he put you down you both let out a breath.

“So is that a yes?” he asked and you nodded making him grin.

“Good, cause then I can do this and not care that anyones looking.” he said leaning down and gently placed his lips on yours and suddenly the world melted away and you actually felt like the stress of exams were finally worth it.

You were in the arms of a man who would mend you up whenever you were down and burnt out but he was also the man who would be your rock throughout your career and sure, things wouldn’t be perfect but you wouldn’t want another doctor taking care of you either way.

-Anna

#seventeen imagine #kpop imagine #seventeen #vernon #vernon imagine #kpop scenarios #kpop #vern #chwe #vernon chwe #svt #svt imagine

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writeinmysoul · 6 years ago

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Okay, so what are some of your favorite and least favorite tropes, what books remind you of your childhood, and what character(s) did you want to be or befriend when growing up? Hope this isn't too many questions lol 💙

Mmm. I don’t know. I can’t think of many off the top of my head for a favorite trope. But I love angst with happy endings. So I love the miscommunication trope where either one or both are in love with each and believes the other doesn’t love them or something. Either doesn’t love them or has some other kind of miscommunication where they think they’re being broken up with and so on. And I love the mandatory cliche hospital scene. Where person A gets severely injured and person B doesn’t leave the hospital for days until person A wakes up. And then person A wakes up to see them sitting there, surprised because they didn’t know person B loved them. Something like that. I love those. I don’t like most overused or cliche tropes, but that one gets me every time.

My least favorite trope is the bully turned lover. I absolutely despise those. Whether the main c has been secretly in love with the bully despite the bullying or even the bully being in love with the person they’re bullying. I don’t care if the bully feels like they’ve changed or if the main c feels like the bully has changed and falls for them. NOOO! Especially when it’s more than just like teasing words that the bully did. When the bully has physically harmed the main character, I hate it 100 times more. I cannot stand that trope. And whenever I go to Wattpad because I’m bored enough, that’s what I see sooo often. Especially when it comes to lgbt stories. And it irritates my soul. I don’t care if 10 years has passed, I will not date an ex bully. Especially if you fucking hit me during your bullying. Like. So I hate the ship Deku and Bakugo because Bakugo bullies Deku for years!!!! Anyway. Yea, I don’t like a lot of tropes, but right now, this takes the cake. Like, rivals to friends to lovers or even just rivals to lovers is one thing. When it’s like mutual dislike/competitor thing and usually doesn’t involve actual abuse, sometimes that’s not so bad. But literal bully turned lover pisses me off.

Books that remind me about my childhood? I don’t know. Does this mean like important books from my childhood that reminds me of that time? or books that I’ve read since then that makes me think of my childhood because of whatever happens in the story? I don’t really have either. I read so much, especially in middle school, and I remember most of everything I read then, but I mean, I guess from Elementary school, The Magic School Bus, Harry Potter, and Edgar Allen Poe’s poem book The Raven. These are the biggest things that I read from 2nd-5th grade and loved.

Character I wanted to be or befriend growing up? I don’t even know. I wanted to befriend pretty much any friend from Harry Potter, Eeyore, Stitch, Peter Pan, Mr. Rogers, Bastian (from Neverending Story), and soo many more people. It’s rare that I read or watch something that has decent people in that I don’t want to be friend. Partly because I’ve felt lonely and been alone my whole life, and I desperately wanted those types of friendships I read about and to have decent people like that in my life. I used to keep lists of the guy characters I wanted to date and the characters I wanted to be super close with.

In terms of people I wanted to be, I really wanted to be any character that was a good person or pretty. Almost any character that wasn’t me. Anyone that was funny and kind or was good at putting their thoughts out there, who was able to stand up for themselves and other people. I wanted to be smart and outgoing and friendly and witty. I wanted to be anyone I read about who wasn’t me. Usually white. Which i’ve realized recently, growing up, after I more understood what race was cause I did not as a little kid. I knew we all looked different, but I didn’t understand what race was, and I liked that we all looked different, and if anyone called anyone white or african american, which I got called both a lot in elementary school since that’s what I am, I would cry. Full tears cause I thought they were insults and I didn’t know what race was. By middle school, I wanted to be fully white. I wanted the long nice hair that wasn’t nappy and didn’t need a perm or weave or wasn’t difficult to comb through. I saw white people in almost every tv show and movie, and most book characters. And it wasn’t til junior year of high school did I realize that any character in a book was white to me by default. I realized that by read ME and Earl and the Dying Girl because Earl is black, but I was reading him as a white character, and it wasn’t til halfway through the book that I realized he was black when he says something about it. So I wanted to be any white character that was better than me in literally anything. Half the time I even wanted to be a guy character because being a girl felt so fucking difficult and it always seemed like guys had it easier, so I remembered going around when I was younger saying, “I want to be a white gay dude.” God. That was so problematic. I really hated every single thing about me. I think media and the lack of representation, and when there was representation, the suckiness of it, really made me hate being mostly black and being a girl. And being both just sucked.

Anyway, somehow this got super long. Sorry for that. Sorry for making this unnecessarily long, and for answering late. Sorry if this is shit at answering the questions and doing more than just basic answering.

#writeinmysoul #writeinmysoul asks #writeinmysoul ask #ask #asks

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depitydoda · 6 years ago

Text

Keepers of the Crypt pt 3

“So, tell me why we’re at an abandoned warehouse again.”

Jericho leaned against the most stable wall he could find as he watched Marcus etch a double layered circle in middle of the room with a piece of chalk. As he worked Jericho took his time to inspect his surroundings. He had always seen the whole he was on the outskirts of town, it was a ways off, in middle of a golden field of tall grass. Unfinished rails were littered outside, rusting over the year of being ignored. But despite the outwardly appearance of being run down and ruined, inside was a different story. It was surprisingly clean and well kept. Most of the equipment was removed, which left the large warehouse eerily empty. Only the catwalks really remained from it’s previous life.

“We’re getting someone’s attention.” He finished the circle, adding runes in between the circles, when the last one was drawn, the circle started to pulsate a dark violet color. Jericho wished he could record what was happening but he learned the hard way that magic tends to mess with technology. That was the main reason why he tended to capture recordings of monsters and cryptids. Besides, he was pretty sure his phone was still in that alleyway.

“You still haven’t explained who. And what your plan is.”

Marcus went over to Jericho and took a seat beside him and etched more runes into the ground. “We are contacting an organization called Keepers. They handle magical situations and keep the human populous from learning too much about the magical world.”

Jericho let that sink in as he stared at Marcus, “So... they practically work against what I’m trying to do... Revealing to the world what’s actually out there.” Not only did people not actually believe in him but now he realized that there’s a magical men in black who are to make sure they don’t. “That’s... unsettling, have they been working against me this entire time?”

“No, though I was fully prepared for them to do so. It’s rare for someone to have so many encounters with the supernatural like you and still be alive. They either die or the Keepers get to them, which isn’t any better.”

A cold wave washed through Jericho’s body, “So, what is the circle for?”

Finishing the runes with the last of his chalk Marcus stood beside Jericho, “The Keepers have a giant network of magical landlines that reach throughout the world, this circle just plucks a few.”

Jericho didn’t like this. He felt like a fly trapped in a spiderweb. He had the urge to bolt, he didn’t want to learn what they did to those who know the truth.

“You have the cloak on right?”

“Uhh, yea..” He almost forgot that Marcus had given him new gear, he remembered Marcus saying that he’ll need better equipment than a home made flame thrower to take her out of this situation in one piece. The cloak was scarlet red and had emerald ovals on both sides of the hood, which made the cloak look as if it had eyes.

“As I said before, the cloak would Keepers you from dieing, but don’t do anything stupid.” Marcus emphasized the last part due to the other’s reckless behavior and Jericho couldn’t blame him.

“As for the daggers... don’t use them unless it’s absolutely necessary.”

Marcus had both sheathed behind him, though he could barely call them daggers. They were naked blades that resembled kitchen knives, but it was curved at the bottom to make a hook. The most spectacular part of them was that it was it damascened. He couldn’t help but stare as he first saw them. The liquid like texture of the metal made them beautiful to a point where he hoped he wouldn’t have to dirty them by stabbing something.

The morning glow soon turned to afternoon light, and the time relaxed Jericho’s nerves. Marcus explained that the runes at their feet was a ward of sorts. It kept those who had ill intent away. Basic but effective. Kept away muggers, rowdy teenagers, wendigos, etcetera and etcetera. He couldn’t help but wonder where Marcus learned this stuff from.

He knew he wasn’t human but that didn’t mean he knew what he was, not only that but he had a rather large arsenal of magical equipment, he was pretty sure he owned an entire storage warehouse full of that kind of stuff. He remembered asking him where he got this stuff from but Marcus just said that, ‘They are just a couple of trinkets he collected over the years.’ Which made him believe Marcus was older than he looked.

He flinched as he felt a gentle tap on his side. It was Marcus, pointing towards the pulsating circle, in middle of the room. It started to flash faster with each pulse. Something was happening, and It didn’t take a genius to know that. Soon, the circle stopped, all life that was in it gone, and after a blinding white flash. A door stood where the circle once was.

The door was wooden, solid and looked as if it belonged in a german castle, while the doorknob was completely silver. It looked almost ordinary if it wasn’t standing in middle of an abandoned warehouse.

If what was on the other side what Jericho expected, then things might get messy.

~~~~~~

Instinctively, Jericho stood in front of Marcus blades drawn and ready for anything to jump out and attack them.

“Dude, I’m not a damsel in distress. I can take care of myself.”

Looking down at him, Jericho knew he was probably right, but he refused to let anything happen to him. He was terrified at what was behind that door, but he couldn’t let his fears overcome him now. Especially if Marcus was involved.

Rolling his eyes, Marcus walked past Jericho and put his hand on the silver knob of the door. “I know you must be scared, but we need their-“

Marcus was cut off as the door burst open, smacking him aside by the force of it. And out of the door rushed a blur heading towards Jericho.

He barely had time to react. Lifting the daggers up he blocked the oncoming attack, he heard the sound of blades crashing against each, thinking quickly, he rolled backwards, locking his blades with the figures he took the other with him and once the other was above him, he kicked the figure away.

Once recovering he saw his opponent. There standing in front of him was a guy, no older than himself. He looked almost human, red hair, blue eyes, light brown complexion, but there was one extraordinary feature. His ears were those of a fox.

“Kitsune.” He mumbled.

Almost surprised by the encounter. The fox person glared at Jericho, as he raised his cutlasses. Jericho didn’t like the match up of weapons, the swords had more reach than his own blades. Seeing the man about to swipe at him, he ducked down and slashed the kitsune. Much to his surprise the blades went through and the image of the man faded, before he could question what was going on he felt a blunt object ram into his solar plexus. He fell to his knees, clutching his stomach and ribs. Feeling the warm touch of his blood, he knew his stitches were now open. The man now stood above him, his swords were set to deliver the killing blow. Wincing, he readied for the blade. A second passed and nothing happened. Then another. Opening his eyes he looked up and was dumbfounded to see the kitsunes arms tied together by the cloak. He struggled to move them but the cloak didn’t budge, instead it lifted him off the ground and tossed him across the room. Completely surprised and in pain he slowly rose off his knees, clutching his now open wound. He readied himself for another pounce when he heard a booming voice echoed through the room, “Zoran Chavez!”

Both Jericho and the kitsune flinched and watched as two more figures exited out of the doorway. They wore red leather armor, over their cotton shirts and jeans. One was as young as the other, she had olive colored skin and wore a hair band too keep her black curly hair down. Her warm almond eyes looked between us and the woman standing beside her.

The oldest one looked like the young girls older sister. But her hair was straightened out and fell to her shoulders. She glared at us then glanced at Marcus, holding his bloodied nose.

Then she did something I didn’t expect. She sighed and relaxed, rubbing the bridge of her nose, she stated, “Stand down Zoran, it isn’t an ambush. It really was a distress signal.”

“No shit Diana.” Marcus groaned.

Diana avoided looking towards Marcus, “I’m sorry... it’s, been a while.”

Zoran looked between Marcus and Diana, with an idiotic expression. “You know that nobody?”

“Watch who you call a nobody ya damn furry.” Jericho snapped. It did bother him that Marcus knew a Keeper. Has Marcus been telling them about him? Was he working against him?

Zoran growled again, he lunged once again only to hit an invisible wall.

“That’s enough Zoran!” Diana barked. She went over to Marcus and helped him off the floor, “I’m sorry, but we’ve been getting ambushes disguised as distress calls as of late. Lost two teams.”

“My condolences.” Marcus groaned.

“Yeah, bleeding out here, but no worries, take you time.” Jericho let out.

Marcus dropped his hand and rushed to Jericho with Diana and her sister. Zoran stood a distance away, clearly annoyed. Jericho instinctively inched back once Marcus approached.

Marcus stood still as he noticed Jericho inch away. Jericho wasn’t sure if he was surprised or hurt with the reaction, but he asked, “Your stitches?”

“Yea..”

“What happened?” Diana demanded. Jericho couldn’t help but flinch. She was very intimidating.

“Wendigo marked him.” Marcus replied immediately. Looking around he cursed, “I left my supplies outside. I’ll be right back.”

After he left, Diana’s sister spoke up, “That... doesn’t make sense. A wendigo in a city? You sure it wasn’t something else that attacked you?”

“Angela is right, wendigos may be territorial but they stay in the areas where they are turned, open forests, mountain ranges, canyons. Not in overpopulated cities.” Zoran spoke up.

Jericho gritted his teeth, “I know what attacked me. Yellow sunken eyes, starved frame, unhinged jaw, turned into a pile of ash after I killed it.”

“What?”

“You killed it!?”

“Dumbass.”

Jericho made a mental note to kick the foxes ass once he was better. “Yes, I know, Marcus already explained how vindictive they are.”

Angela and Diana exchanged worries glances with Zoran, who didn’t really care.

“If I may ask, aren’t you guys supposed to keep this from happening.”

“Yeah, along with making sure nosey humans mind their own business Jericho Jameson.” Zoran retorted.

“Of course the jackass had to bring it up.”

Angela elbowed Zoran while he earned a glare from Diana, “It’s true. We have been keeping tabs on you, but not through Marcus. He’s just a friend of mine. I didn’t even know he moved to the city.” She looked towards the exit where Marcus left and stated, “I’m going to check on him. Make sure he has everything.”

Jericho isn’t dumb, she could be lying, and Marcus could be feeding Keepers information on him. But it was Marcus, he’s done too much for him to be an enemy. He finally decided to just talk to Marcus about it.

He was fine waiting in silence for them, it left him in to his thoughts, but like everything else, Zoran had to ruin it. “Aren’t you a little young to be looking for monsters. Why are you doing this?”

“I’m nineteen. I can do what I want.”

“We know, but why is what I asked. You spent four years of your life looking for what others call a myth.”

“They still wouldn’t be calling it a myth if it wasn’t for you mind you.”

“That’s right. Now you know you have an entire organization of people working against you. Making sure no one believes you. What will you do now?”

“That’s enough.”

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lonespektr · 4 years ago

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Starting back Vikings again randomly........

blue eyes still hasn't fucked that priest

When's he gonna bang the priest, he doesn't like his new wife 🤷🏾‍♀️

Rollo needs a win/ cmon lady archers

Stop listening to random men, every main character gets bad advice from randos

Very deliberate word choice

Blue eyes is do butthurt his boyfriend is not coming with him priest is literally staying for you, you blockhead

Men are idiots

Tomgirls trying to sit still and look pretty when they clearly want to punch people

They keep using attempted rape for her power ups and they could do literally anything else

Glad the mrs is back

She's worried about jr but it looks like he can fight brother still absolutely in love with the mom cause she's a bad bitch

But he would have cheated too soo 🤷🏾‍♀️

He's big but it doesn't look like he hits hard, he's moving frantically, he doesn't lean into his hits??

The bows are used in short range i feel like it's that accurate??!!

Nobody is hyped the mrs is home and i feel like that was a wasted opportunity

Priest is attracted to bad people

Everybody got a shower

Who ever is subing the sound effects is a fucking poet Every grunt has a adjective

Always gotta upstage your brother just fukkkin relax

He's rejected the sacrament dunt dun dun!!!

Cheese and crackers woman how many boys you churnin out

What's the science? Boys are faster swimmers so short vagina?? I forget

She's gloating

Yea no shit. He don't even like that other future telling bitch

Rollo just stick with old girl u are bad at politics

This is a very sexual prayer priest

You tryina get what by the holy spirit??!! Save that for blue eyes

Thorvard big as fuck

That boy ain't got no right being that big his parents is normal sized

If i wanted to say it in private i wouldn't fucckkin come down to long house

Who's fuckkin army is that , just her homies?? She got warrior homies?

Ah she just wanted to threaten the general community that if anything happen to hey son it's they ass

Yea those'r just her homies

Another sexual assault threat but in an unexpected turn is events his kinsman ain't down with that shit and backed her

Infamous wings pf the vikings

More sexual assault threats

Whoever is writing these subtitles is a fucking legend

Priest new boyfriend is in wooing his old boyfriend's ex wife and he has to be an awkward translator

Wack what a serious waste of ambition

Them two rando little boys already died they really gotta take the one bitch was leadership vibes

She threw away throne thrown for dinner snot nose kids

He play too much, but they are great together

Preist done diddled that brown hair plain and not blue eyes

Vikings does appear to have a strict all rapists must die policy (marital rape excluded- even that's appears to have consequences)

Surprised they let siggs go but i think she landed a better role, shes a bigger actor then all em

I still don't know which god he was supposed to be. Guess i gotta brush up on my norse history

What's rollo gonna go without his political advisor

That guy coulda had a bigger role but this was 6+years ago and he was not as big then so..makes sense

Preist talking shit about women knowin damn well he just left a perfectly boring one to be with sky eyes

Hypocrisy , ungrateful ass volunteer to help the mother of your child

Screw everybody and they mama, leave yo wife month at a time with no backup booty

Why you only slept with yo wife once? 🤨

Seer tied of yo ass

Sky eyes just move to Paris with the preist

They are doing a sharp turn with him that is uncharacteristic, they haven't done a power corruption thing or anything to transition him from opportunist to greed

Also wtf boo /This is your earldom ??? You just gon stand there?

Still holding with the rapist get stitches law

Burning cross bit heavy handed

Bjorn tell your wack ass absentee father to back your mom

Yea we have been here before, cause your dad keeps fucckin up, you forget last time you left with her cause you knew he was wrong

Blue eyes has become a kind of apathetic shell without preist and wifee no1

Um wtf was that with the 👀

Just fuck already

Can the women have a story not around babies

Where rollo headed?

This is evidence of a turning point we should have gotten a half step before this

Except she was taking care of the one kid you ignore and you know damn well that priss don't do no work and her servants watch her kids anyway

Lol whut person or persons unknown, but you have evidence?

King got plans on plans on plans

Do they just not know what to do with the preist anymore??

Hey least he said it

That was the least intimate interaction he's had with anyone

Disrespect on disrespect

I think they are going to do something stupid with her 🙄 looking forward to that

Woah full stop yikes 😬

Another unforced error. I knew they were gon do some dumb shit with her, no he actin stupid too

This really there seasons about an unrequited love story

It gets boring when the main character is white male tyrannical and off his rocker - when he's not a zealot

Mentally ill opportunist are not very complelling

I'm annoyed blondie is really confessing to a man who has been treating her like shit for the past decade because a first good decade

Unforced errors and making her stupid is something shows love to do with women

But they gave her so much pride it doesn't make sense

I thought maybe they all knew, but it's just bjorn

Blue eyes was hoping for a confession

Why do you tear me away from myself

Trojan horse is the only thing that ever made sense with impregnable walls even with that hint he still couldn't figure it out, he had to almost die

Rollo is out here now? Why doing what?

I mean tbh is a really good idea to get away from your brother

Oh so the King isn't a complete idiot, just a coward

Another betray your brother situation 🙄

Just let rollo needs live

All our protagonists are isolated

He still didn't get that confession

Oh he just said it

What was the point of that Christian coming to visit?

Lit of obsessive unhealthy male relationships

Floki/Ragnar

Althestan/Ragnar

Ragnar/ rollo

How would rollo even convince the remaining vikings to go against their own

Now we must be subjected to this embarrassment

Co Earls, this guy is a not confused about his endgame

He should have just married her when she asked

There is one asian

If this the season where the non whites enter? They should have done that in Paris

He's an absentee father but he's annoyed his kids are stupid

Floki bb hella cute

It's odd the show has isolated everyone

He's such as gaslighter

The only stable relationship is the ones between the mentally unstable people

The two best pairings were both uneccesairly antagonistic towards each other

What's rollo doing

Le sigh she's smiling because she thinks he backed her , finally someone did she deserves to be supported

But he only backs himself

Time inside learning could be useful for him

Even rollo is not this stupid soooo 🤷🏾‍♀️

Blue eyes mad that his wife doesn't give a shit about him, knowing damn well he don't give a shit about her

Rollo 👏🏾 isn't 👏🏾 stupid👏🏾

He also wouldn't ally himself with strangers 🤷🏾‍♀️ it's a repeat pattern of making the wrong allies but this don't make sense

Hopefully bjorn gets more interesting

Or another woman character not attached to a damn man comes in

1 poc is already gettin eyeballed by ol blue eyes

What old lady would be concerned with getting revenge on is wessex king who raised her new settlement to the ground

There's that projection again blue eyes

The rollo situation is getting close to puppy punching

He looses his accent a lot

Blue eyes has odd codependencies

Man has no loyalists but strong affections that look like loyalty from afar

Why are they all obsessed with this fucking guy

Predatory men who pretend to be small and unassuming to trick women

She choked those words out, I wonder how many takes they made her do before they went with that one

This descent into madness isn't nearly as entertaining as they think

That's the first time he's called her by her first name

Curious move bjorn /curious situation they pulled moms into

They make women look stupid by having them smiling the whole time while men who are being equally deceived look suspiciously but they are tricked just the same

Once again he just identifies foreigners as roadmaps to conquer new lands

Gaslighter all these men are gaslighters

All these braids and this is the first time i've seen one of the man brushing they hair

It's going to be four full seasons of wounded mentally ill drug addicted blue eyes??

there it is, that was his dream, not the crazed ambitions of winning for winnings sake

Opportunistic and talented or rather lucky is different than tyrannical and that's what they are playing him as with no foundation

I know she tired of these dirty whites raggety ass wash rags she want a real bath with soap

Random edge play over the top hair cutting symbolism

That bb old enough too...ok

The girls were ready. And he even ain't mad because she told him straight up she was going to kill him

She doesn't want to remarry, she's better boss ass bitch but it's fucked up she can't just have a decent man partner and equal but these men are trifling they may as well get her a girlfriend

Is the seer dead?

It's 13 right?

Heavy handed women freedom theme happening

#vi #kings

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11toe11-blog · 4 years ago

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Baal ki Khaal ~ Skin the Hair

Much happened. Well. Happenings were not much in the outer realms but conversations. Wrestles.

Anger flung and received and flung right back. As valid counter points.

Anger flung and received and passed on. to plates.

Hair cuts, that had nothing to lose because they were on their way to a shave.

Lets keep quiet for a few days.

And a newspaper in print. A lock down extension. Resting lazing squirrel, ambling away when a friend visits and the woodpecker taking the couch. The corner of the tree felt like the laze zone or the park bench.

I thought there would be so much to write about yesterday. Nothing much other than the haircuts, and the image of the trees, and sharing measurements with mom with the big Homelite matchbox as the yardstick, planning to start stitching lessons with mom starting thursday, and long conversation with S. And in the long wrestle that spanned weeks many, something of a comprehension of each other however elusive to attempts at articulation.

I catch a glimpse of my own bias and victimhood tape, projecting reprojecting on the other. Of Course and the other’s projection on me. Conversation on mental health. And responsibility. Important conversations, sure. But cannot happen unless we mutually reach a moment in time. Otherwise it's preaching, one to the other. Or pleading.

And like that yesterday went. 40 degree R announces now.

___

Today starts.

Body. stretches. Observer.

Mind going on playing in loop the images from films and clips and virtual news and people. Notice the observer.

Can I watch the watchman? More profound words were never spoken, again and again in different ways. Can one watch the watch-man?

Can one watch the time-man?

Identities. Association. Disassociation.

A dancer stretching out, working on the split, stretches the psoas and pouring out memories. Identities stored in there. (Gesture of the menstruating woman with open stretched crouching core- has much story to tell, i hear)

Two people attempting suicide, with only one slot available at the moment in deadlands, arguing who needs to be successful.

Memories of a blue colour top, a hand me down from a cousin, lasted almost a decade and past a marriage, with me. Marriage far briefer than the blue beautiful top that was distinctly european in its sleeves and neck. The friendship that continued out of the marriage vaguely trails as the memory of a person.

Identities Disassociation. Maybe one of the outcomes of trauma that points an expereincer of trauma onto the path of finding the Source, what is loosely called spiritual, or deep meaning making, is possibly the experience of the observer. In deep pain, one tends to disassociate. Becomes at some level aware of the presence of the state of observation, ie truth ie deep meaning. And then embarks unknowingly on that journey as if having picked up a bread crumb trail.

Identities. Disassociation. For an actor that is possibly the main part of the skill building / training. Finding the ability to identify with, empathize with , step into the shoes of any character. And at the same time the ability to leave, disassociate with the identity once the role or exploration is over. Where things get very tricky, however is when we take this exercise that requires immense ability of observation and energy, into something casual. Not knowing how the back end of all this programming and deprogramming works.

Any identification can end up sticking, deep. Blurring the line between the self and the archetype evoked by such an identification. And the archetype rides out of the deep seas on the back of that identification, and spilling into life.

Any disassociation can end up in numbing out, a reverse identification. A fear of identifying with anything on account of the pain. Inability to empathise, associate, relate.

Koodu vittu koodu maral vidya. Usually referred to a shaman leaving his body to inhabit the body or form of another person or animal or being. But the very basics of which is what i suppose the actor performs in the mind scape.

Folk. Classical. Such labels for certain stages. Certain natures of mind.

The lotus flower, the petals opening in mudra is an experience. A very personal experience of opening, taking many weeks, or years to discover. As the meridians are stretched and opened and blocks released. In the body and in life. One gesture learnt is such a lived experience.

Bansi Kaul spoke of the folk performer who could simply and easily improvise and associate with other performers. His trick according to him, as shared with Kaul is, the repertoire of gestures and songs and walks and all that he learnt from his father over time. So he pulls them out when he feels the need for that particular one, instinctively. This is language no? How we use words? Hence we associate and improvise with others in conversation.

I wondered this morning of the richness of experience offered by each of the gestures. Richness of embodying that gesture, which holds so many layers within in. Whichever stream i am trained in or not. A human body stretching out its fingers in certain angles, creating a certain effect particular to that body and for that bodymind.

A quote somewhere said - even if we all did the same exercises and training and ate the same things we will all still be different. Like no two mango trees are the same. No two mangoes of the same treee are the same. No two sides of the same mango taste the same.

I begin to, just about begin to understand language and meaning making. That too is too much to say at this point. But yea, i am not as unaware of it as i was yesterday.

Why bother with taking the skin out of the each hair strand ? baal ki khaal? It's not so much about the baal or the khaal as much as it is about the process of understanding how all this works together. If. If one is to make a baal. But baal grows simply, without me having to make anything. And that's true. That's a stumper. Like something Ramana would say. Be still. I suppose i am not yet still, so while i wait for that i'll fiddle with the baal.

I am pleased that the haircut of earlier threaded into the baal now. BUt exercise and body work long procrastinated waits. Do i want to show up? Yes. I am ready and oiled and bandaged and all that. But the heaviness , the womb of inertia sending up gentle lulls to my eyelids are soothing, suggesting that it's ok.. Just stay here. Keep typing into the screen. Something or the other will come and you will feel satisfied here also.

How about looking into that suggestion of VV that he was apparently offered by AV who was offered this by RR, the behavioral scientist. To mythify one story.

The idea quite struck me when he suggested it, on hearing my return gift of my journey in response to his story of his theatre journey. It offers a fundamental shift of perspective, otherwise one is constantly trying to fit the present story into the frame of the myth, shove it all into the shoe.

This suggestion is to make a whole new shoe. With the caveat that once you write a line, you will or delete it. Hmm. That doesn't feel too difficult. Very rarely does backspace feature in this workspace except for spelling correstions.

I noticed somewhere today that when a certain emotional palette / archetype is alive, it becomes the basis of identification with whatever comes one's way. I had sensed the envy alive in me. And while watching the movie - the associations where envy was alive among characters or within the makeup of a character, kept playing back in some way. The pervert was particularly disturbing.

Or while scrolling insta - a person whom one identifieses with, for having a certain similarity of thought or political position or whatever, is associated with on the basis of envy. Acquiring tones of aspirational. Unconsciously maybe wanting to be where they are, be who they are, emulating their manner, attire, attitude.

In my case i experienced it when i came across the insta profiles of GM and RK. Women. From kerala. Performers, dancers, film makers taking theri space and living it. Somewhere that's a point of identification for me, i see. And then its from the lens of envy that the rest of it plays out, stemming from this identification - aspiration, motivation ie - action.

I suppose if one has the capacity for action - then there is room for transformation of this envy, if a wider perspective is available.

But in the event of not enough energy for action - one plummets into self loathing and deeper insecurities and depressions.

Because i see them as separate from me. If i were to place the hypothesis of the Unified self here- I am not separate from the other. So my envy of them, is an envy of my self.

I am jealous of myself.

What madness.

I can imagine a scene in which this person afflicted with envy - is envious of her own self in the mirror. Is envious of herself in the future. Is envious of her child self. Tremenous dramatic potential. Shoe-rpanaka Lands not very far from Karna and Duryodhana. This is a solid and interesting enough thread to take onto the floor now.

Any reflection of existing reality, in part, is a reflection of insanity. ONly when the reflection and reflector is vast enough to hold the totality, can sanity be reflected.

I understand R a lil more.

Can i explore this - with a vasness. Can i at the same time explore this at its depths.

___

I entered not for power. I entered for insight and wisdom and illumination for myself and the whole. Guide me so that i don't lose my way, with the light and gems you offer so generously. I leave closing the door gently behind me. Holding with me what is not mine alone but belonging to the whole. May I always remember the whole.

Do i need to spell check and autocorrects before posting this? I wonder.

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riobastayem-blog · 7 years ago

Text

Dream Diary 9

Never drink and dream, kids. The following story is based on the events of 7 hours made of 80% sleep and 20% pain. I was out drinking and came home at about 6 am. But for some reason both my wrists and my left upper arm were hurting like crazy the whole time so I woke up every few hours or so. From this ordeal a mashup of stupid shit was born. I tried to write it in a way that it makes at least a bit of sense but yea, see for yourself.

Like every day the headquarters of the city police are brimming with commotion, screams of guilt and innocence and the smell of coffee and donuts. Although I have come to terms with the hectic of my profession as a police detective in my years of service, today feels different. And I soon find out why. Someone has kidnapped my partner. To my knowledge he was investigating the disappearance of a certain mob boss. But nobody has heard from him since yesterday. So naturally I take it upon myself to search for him. Following the clues he has written down in his investigation notes I soon arrive at a pier where he believed the mob boss or at least some of his goons to hide. I step into the little hut on the pier and have to hold my hand to my mouth to keep me from vomiting up my breakfast. The mutilated corpses litter the ground and black is splattered on the walls. I have seen some fucked up shit in my time but this takes the cake. It looks like a huge beast has squashed and ripped apart a whole family. In the midst of blood and innards I spot an intact human body. It’s my partner! He’s bound to the wall but seems to be alive and well. Charles! I wade through the swamp of death towards him. You’re here! Charles calls out to me. I thought this would be my grave. Don’t worry, old friend. I’d never let you die in such a disgusting place. I say as I loosen his bonds. Then I ask him. What happened here? Charles shakes his head. It was horrible. The scene shifts to a flashback from last night. Charles arrives at the pier. He walks up to the hut when suddenly someone knocks him out from behind. A few minutes later he wakes up inside the hut bound to the wall. 4 men are standing in front of him. Caught this one snooping around. Says one of the men to the others. Nice job. Says another. But what do we do with him? That’s for the boss to decide. Right on cue a voice, a deep, dark and terrible voice, from outside of Charles’ view says. Doctor…Look at what you have done. The man on the far left turns his head to where the voice comes from. Is everything alright? He asks. The terrible voice talks again. You tell me… The doctor walks into the room behind Charles and says proudly. Very satisfactory. I must admit. My best work by far. You call this satisfaction? The terrible voice growls. Wait what are you doing- The doctor screams and Charles hears flesh being squashed and bones being broken. Boss? Says a henchman. He nods towards a one of his comrades and together they enter the other room. What the fuck? Boss what did he do to you? No! Boss wait! Argh. Another squashing sound but this time the men come back. They stagger into the main room of the hut. Or rather one of them staggers because the other has been shoved through him like a spear. Blood spills from the walking man’s mouth as he tries to say something. Then both of them are torn apart by someone behind them. Charles can’t believe what he is seeing. The creature looks like someone took the torso of a puppet and stitched arms, legs and a head to it. Although the arms and legs look like a child tried to mold a human out of clay. They are horribly disfigured, thick flesh stakes. And the head only consists of one giant eye and a small mouth with sharp teeth. It’s a downright monstrosity. B-boss? Stammers the last henchman. Is…is that you? The monster growls and slowly walks up to the last man. Boss. Please. Don’t do this. I-. The flash stakes grab the sides of the man and slowly push. B-boss. Noooo! Charles looks away as the monster squashes the last henchman. He looks back up only to see the monster staring right at him with his giant eye. For a moment it just stands there. Then it turns around and leaves. I can’t believe what Charles is telling me. That doctor did something horrible to him, man. He ends his story. We need to find him before something really bad happens. I nod slowly. Then I say. Charles, you know that this sounds too crazy to be real? I mean, I believe you but the commissioner won’t. He grabs my arm and stares into my eyes. I saw it, man. It is real. What else could do this? He points his arm at the destruction around us. I don’t know, Charles. I admit. I take him back to headquarters and leave him in the care of more qualified personnel. I really believe Charles, but it will be impossible to convince the commissioner to put someone on the case. He will just say a bear or something ripped these people apart and Charles was lucky enough to be spared. We will just have to see what happens. A young man enters the kitchen of a restaurant. In his hand he carries a piece of paper with orders. Soup…soup… He mutters to himself. His view glides down to the kitchen floor. A lot of ingredients are scattered on the ground. You’re not supposed to be down there. He says. Do we have rats again? Suddenly a noise. Hello? No answer. He is the only one here. The young man takes a broom from the side as his weapon and slowly walks past a kitchen shelf. There is the noise again. It comes from the shelf. Hello? The man whispers and looks at a sack. A weird sack. A fleshy looking sack. Hello. Says the sack in a terrible voice and opens a giant eye. The man staggers backwards and the sack plummets to the ground. It unfolds itself into a horrific fleshy thing. What. What are you? Asks the young man in a shaking voice. The thing responds. I need a hiding place. The man looks confused. What? Help me find a hiding place and you will be rewarded. The man looks at the door. Chef? He calls out to his boss. You have to- Don’t! Says the thing and grabs the man’s arm with a fleshy stake. The man’s arm breaks like a twig. But before he can scream in agony the thing rips off his head. It sighs. He has really become a monster. The doctor was only supposed to prolong his life. And now he is an abomination. For the first time he looks at himself. His crude arms and legs look like someone mashed body parts together that should never be near each other. And his torso looks like the doctor made it from a mascot suit. He looks around and spots a tray of knifes. Maybe he should just end it here and now. No! This is a mere setback nothing more. If the doctor kept his promise of making him immortal than it does not matter that he has become an abomination. He will rise to the top of the criminal underworld again. With this body or any other. The Gabbo Parade. Every year the citizens celebrate the foundation of their city with a parade. Millions of ballons and people dressed up as the city’s mascot Gabbo. A humanoid lion. But the event everyone anticipates the most is the airplane show. This year it is performed by pop star and pilot Samantha Star. She loves the crowd and the crowd loves her. But what she loves the most is being high up in the air. Sky’s the limit. Her father used to say and she reaches that limit every chance she gets. Making some loops and spins she draws a picture of Gabbo in the sky with her vapor trail. And the crowd cheers. Looking good up there. Samantha hears a voice from her headset. Now get down here, girl. The reporters are waiting. Samantha smiles. Just one more round please. A sigh. And then. Alright. But only this once! Samantha smiles again. You always say that. Maybe fire some of the fireworks while you’re at it. Says the man cuts the connection. Samantha does another few spins and then presses the button for the fireworks on her console. But the lid for the fireworks malfunctions and suddenly the whole backside of the plane is in flames. Oh shit, shit shit! Mayday, mayday! Samantha yells in her mic. Samantha? What the heck is happening? Are you alright? Yea I’m fine. But the fireworks have malfunctioned and the plane is on fire. I can see that. Get out of there, girl. Eject! Samantha’s hand hovers over the eject button. But then she grabs a hold of the steering wheel with both hands and says. No. I’m landing this bird. Are you crazy? Samantha! Don’t do this. She deactivates her headset and concentrates. She can feel the heat behind her getting closer. She has to land. Fast. The nose of the plane tips downwards and the plane dives to the ground. Closer and closer she flies to her certain death. Then in the last moment she tilts the plane back up and rushes over the over the heads of the spectators like a burning phoenix. Getting down was easy but landing without being crushed to death proves to be more difficult. The plane has way too much speed when Samantha arrives at the landing zone. It slithers across the asphalt like a landslide and Samantha realizes she won’t be able to keep the plane in one piece. She turns the steering wheel to the side and the plane crashes into the wall of a building. Samantha’s head knocks against something hard and as her vision fades she thinks. Every landing you can walk away from… Smoke crawls up her nose. She hears glass breaking and as she opens her eyes she sees something small carrying her away from the burning plane. Her eyes close again. Then she feels the asphalt under her face as she is thrown on it. She tries to get up but can’t. Samantha look’s to her burning love and spots a muscular, one-eyed midget in a tuxedo. Did he save her? He waves his cape around and vanishes through a vent in the wall. A midget? I ask the pop star and pilot Samantha Star. Behind her the fire department puts out the flaming plane. And he wore a tuxedo? Asks Charles beside me. Samantha nods her head like a woodpecker. Yes! I tell you, Gabbo saved me! Gabbo? The mascot? You know he isn’t real, right? I look at her head to see if she sustained any damage to it. I am not crazy. He wore a tuxedo but it was not buttoned up well and underneath it looked like Gabbo. She explains. Thank you, for your time, Ms. Star. You should rest now. I say. Fine. Samantha scoffs and we leave her in the care of the medical professionals. What do you think? I ask my partner. Charles looks at me. It’s him. The mob boss. What? Why do you think that? I did not realize it when I first saw him, but his torso looks like Gabbos. His doctor must have fused it with human tissue. I shake my head. That definitely sounds insane. I thought you believed me! Yells Charles. Calm down. I do. About the monster. But Gabbo? The fusion between a human and a puppet? And the mob boss a tuxedo wearing hero? You know that sounds crazy right? Right? Charles stops walking. I know it is him. I can feel it. First the man who got torn apart in the kitchen we were earlier and now this. He is plotting something. I sigh. Okay. Let’s say, you’re right. Suddenly my phone rings. I look at the display and then at Charles. It’s Jemma. I say. Do what you must. Charles shrugs his shoulder. I will investigate further and let you know if I find something. Thanks, you’re the best. I say and run off to my car. I know! Charles shouts after me. I accept the call and say. Hey Jemma, what’s up? Jemma is my childhood friend and not so secret love interest. Everyone including her knows that I like her but so far she never let me act on my feelings. Hey. Can you come and pick me up? I need your help. She says. Is everything alright? I ask. Yea, yea. Everything is fine. I just want to show you something. I hope you’re not busy. Nah. I say. I just talked to Samantha Star about a tuxedo wearing midget but that’s it. What? I’ll explain when I pick you up. I drive to her home and Jemma gets in the car. She tells me to drive to a specific address and on the way I tell her but Charles’ and my case. That sounds super crazy. But awesome. She says after I have finished my story. Too awesome to be true. I mean, I believe Charles but I actually hope he was hallucinating due to the shock. But on the other hand I have no clue what could enter a kitchen undetected and rip some guys head off. And save a woman from a burning plane. Adds Jemma. I don’t think that was him though. I say. What? You think there are two one eyed half-puppet half midget people around? Jemma laughs. I laugh too. Well if you put it that way. We’re here. She says suddenly and I look to the right. We’re still on the highway no buildings or anything around. There he is! Jemma shouts and a man jumps out from a ditch holding something big. From one moment to the other Jemma and the man are out of the car and the big thing is on the passenger seat of my car. It’s a time bomb. What the hell Jemma? I shout still driving. Use the nitro! She yells back. I press a button and then step on the gas pedal with all my might. The time bomb is at 4 seconds. 3 seconds. I pass two trucks. 2 seconds. I jump out of my car and roll on the other side of the rode. Luckily there are no cars there. And they’re probably won’t be any for a long time. Together with my car the bomb explodes and leaves a huge hole in the ground. The two trucks drive straight into the pit. I can hear the squeaking of their tires as they drivers press the brakes with all their might. The first truck comes to a stop but the second truck rams him from behind and pushes him into the hole. The driver of the second truck loses control of his vehicle and falls a few meters to the right into the pit as well. When the dust settles I realize what just transpired. I dial Charles number and tell him what happened. Then I run back to Jemma and the man who are still standing where they left me. I recognize the man as Wilson. One of Jemma’s on and off boyfriends and a petty criminal on multiple occasions. What the fuck was that? I yell at them as I come closer. Was that what you needed help with, Jemma? Blowing up a fucking highway? Or was that just so you could show Wilson your wild side so he would fuck you again? What’s your problem? Asks Jemma. Anger floods into my already red face. What my problem is? You are! You always do stupid shit but this! This is the worst you ever done. And you, mister black man stereotype! What the fuck! Just what the fuck. Calm down, man. It was just a job. Wilson says with a wicked smile. Finally I lose my temper. I grab him by his shirt and pull him closer. Listen to me, you criminal. You may think this is funny and cool. And that someday things will turn up okay and you will get rich and famous or whatever but this is not the case. If you continue to do these thing nothing will get better. It will only get worse. And one day you’ll be dead left in a ditch with regret being the last thing on your mind. Now get out of here before I shoot you in the fucking face. I wouldn’t want Jemma’s fuckboy to get caught. I let go of Wilson and he runs off. Please. Jemma says but I interrupt her. I don’t understand why you hang out with him and frankly I don’t want to know because I can imagine a large reason. But Jemma, you will get yourself killed over that guy. Jemma keeps silent. I sigh. Now go. I can’t drive you home anymore. Take the bus or whatever you can find. Jemma runs after Wilson. As always. A few minutes later Charles arrives with the commissioner and a rescue team for the trucks and their drivers. To my surprise they are both alive although heavily injured. I explain to the commissioner and the rest what happened. Then I check out the trucks the rescue team brought back from the pit. Another surprise awaits me. They are both empty except for a plate of soup in each one. A light broth in the first truck and a brown broth in the second. Thunderbolt! I hear a man yelling the name of our commissioner. It’s a general from our nation’s army. Thunderbolt! Explain yourself. What did your guys do this time? General, what are you doing here? Asks the commissioner. This case of yours has become a matter of national security! Explains the general. National security? Asks Charles. Is this still about Gabbo? The general looks from Thunderbolt to Charles and then back to Thunderbolt. What is he babbling about? While the commissioner explains Charles’ case an idea appears in my mind. I run back to the group and shout. I solved it! I solved the case! Then I woke up. Before you ask, I have no idea who the people in my dream were and I was very surprised that they had names. Normally only people I know from real life or established characters from fiction have names but I guess there is a first time for anything. Speaking of first times, this was the first time that I dreamt different perspectives. Like a movie. That was highly interesting and disturbing. At least when I woke up. During the dream everything makes sense but when you’re awake you think: “Wat?” Also I have no idea why I dreamt this. Although I have to admit I was really intrigued in the end about what I believed to have found out but sadly my subconscious did not think to share this information with me.

#short story #dream #diary #literature #text #police #detective #criminal #plane crash #names #midget #monster #tuxedo #explosion #soup

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11toe11-blog · 4 years ago

Text

Horsewomen

May i enter. Quietly. For insight. And take back nothing but truth.

____

I sit here waiting.

I sit here waiting for you.

This is uncomfortable. This is actually a rather unsettling feeling. My breathing is no deeper than my upper chest. I am distracted. I want some distraction. Watch something nonsensical. Eat. Eat plenty. Something to comfort me. This sense of hunger, of not being full, no matter what i am putting in - from the healthiest to the junkiest.

He wants to mute me.

He is making pulao and raita. Just what i need maybe. Maybe with that i’ll be satiated. Calm this restlessness.

Weight on the chest. Cant go, oh damn! on it. Just watch it. Even if i spent the last month and a half working this weight off.

Actors freeze writers block.

Dont i have anything to write? After steam rolling for a week.THe point when i assumed things would come together into a giant revelation?

Breathe into the belly. Reach out from formula.

“What do i mean by…”

I miss. I miss kalari. Its a fact. I miss. I miss thiru. I miss. I am a miss. I am amiss, between a miss and a missus.

Something in the face sharts shifting. Music is hindustani. Kishori amolkar he announces, informs, sticking is head out of building pulao.

Watched S’s viva. As she discussed body widsom as the maker and keeper of stories, and the source of the individial truth and meaning making process we all search for.

Watched Su’s body leave her home of 85 years. Watched Su’s body after her spirit left its home of 85 years. He brows were tight together, as if frozen amidst a painful exercise to recall something.

Mid sentence, mid building he walks over for the hug, hug of reconciliation, hug of understanding, a hug to acknowledge, a hug to reassure - one of us, both of us.

A death happened.

Finally. After a dance on the edges that lasted almost 2 years. I remember sitting in the room with my therapist as art of the Art Therapy studies, and role playing with a strange dream, where i was arguing with R and having some experience of the Buzz road first floor centered around my possessions- why it cant be moved or something and his friends being around and me feeling alientated; while down in the ground floor abyss, the dreamer was distinctly aware of death waiting. The house didnt quite look like this, but was the same. In a way that spaces rearrange them selves in dreams, an additional corridor there, an elevation somewhere else, a door connecting two opposite ends of the house directly.

I dont know her at all. I have barely spoken to her more than a few handful of times in the 4 years that Buzz road has been my home. And none of the conversations have lasted more than a few minutes. She was a fine looking thin lady. Who i was told was a shell of her former robust self, and had alzheimer's setting in. So the main door, which is the common entrance to all the three floors had to be locked early enough. She would have anxieties otherwise.

Nothing too loud or boisterous.

Its never been loud or boisterous at buzz road from the time i have known it. Maybe when i got to know it, it was around the time it had gotten contemplative, retrospective, nostalgic. With not enough energy to hold the heightened states of merry making and large groups splashing their vibrance around. But finding them quietly in the folds of memory, back and forth, and reweaving them, alone.

I came into the quiet buzz road; a buzzing road thats quietened now, i realize.

People were talking about the sheer energy she possessed. I can imagine. Even when the last time we exchanged pleasantries, as i walked to junk the compost into the new compost pit we had going in the back yard, she was clear in her gaze, her glance inspire of all the tubes running out of her. Was that the last time she saw me? Or when i had my lungi pulled up, carrying the water cans to the first floor. I had put on an effort to be myself, anticipating judgements for my hairy legs, or my unconventionality inspite of my desperate attempts to fit into the conventional. Whatever conventional means.

I now wear diamond earrings to honor a memory. Of someone i have only met in books and ideas. WHo would have thunk!

He comes over from the pillars of pulao. Share a few grains of his memory.

The sense of community he is experiencing at the moment - in the virtual world with the responses that came in response to his tribute to her, -in this space, with his cousin who he felt he had nothing in common with. A point he always kept making. Until now, when he seems to suddenly have noticed a shared childhood. He accepted his cousin’s invitation to be there on the 10th and 13th day and was touched by the gensture, though he trailed off a “my beliefs are my own” as he made his way back into the kitchen.

From the kitchen he recounts and as kishori continues to inspire the pulao, how his aunt took him to the hospital after his infamous fall off the rockface, he had managed to get back home pushing his conked motor bike before fainting in the loo with a shirt soaking in blood. Quite dramatic. This bit of the story is new to me. I knew of the fall. And the 7 stitches. I didnt know she featured in the story, which i imagined to be the grand fall that shook the 3 worlds and its from that impact on the earth that i was born.

He was 18. My parents copulated. 1983.

This is quite a nice start to the mythical story.

What is this sentimentality? I am not a sentimental person. Sensitive yes. Sentimental? Not really.

In all senses i am aware of the fact that death doesnt mean anything. Other than the change of the playing scene. For the person who dies. Atleast for most people who die. A change of play for the actor.

For the co-actors, yea its awkward. Suddenly, the improvisation has new energy, an unknown. Space available for new possibilities.

Also a sense of a loss of the playing dynamics, which has to be refigured in new context.

Thats all death is.

And i myself must be dying in a million ways in the million multiverses, never mind “the other” dying. The infinite stages strung together and the actor playing out the infinite possibilities of each second.

The thought of him dying was obsessive,for last two years. Its only of late that i have been able to relax. Otherwise it was a high alert since his tryst with the fissure and bp. I would be up at night watching and monitoring the deapth of his breath as he snored on. The thought of him dying and the paranoia that set in was a pattern repeat of the tightly controlled panic I experienced regularly as a teenager when my mother came home wheezing and we spent the whole nights praying and trying to help her get some relief. With no one else to turn for help. Sheer holding-on to the the caregiver, protector, provider.

Sheer holding-on as the intermediate caregiver, protector, supporter.

Today i am lot more relaxed. The pattern that was triggered two years ago has eased. It gave a sample of the minefield of triggers that lay dormant in my mindscape.

Last night when he spoke of his will, after the initial reaction of sheer panic setting in, and then watching it pass, i was able to engage in the conversation - who should the bangalore house be left for? A. She has plenty in her name already. What about AV? Wonderful idea. He is a lonewolf with a strong sense of community. And will find some meaning and continuity, “make something with it, share it”.

Pondi house is for me.

There is no house in pondi yet. There is land in pondi. And our dreams for the home. Our mutual curiosity of this human instinct, nesting. What does it mean to make a nest with someone - which is neither his nor mine, but ours.

Pondi house is for us.

Its ours.

Quite fitting for the closet romantics that we both are.

Such a relief this sentence gave me. Pondi house is for us. Its ours.

What a burden it seems to be lifting from my shoulders.

My self image moves, glides past the harshly lit railings where it was held prisoner by my critical self - ever questioning my intentions of initiating and insisting on insisting on a home in pondicherry. Is it greed? Is it the easy way out? Are you in this for the money?

To something lit with a much softer glow of depth and wisdom. And love and respect.

Ustad Ali Akbar Khan takes the manch.

Nobody else may understand this. But we do. You and i, do.

That ours is a dance of light and shadows. We love and hate. Trust and mistrust. We make love with the enemy. Sleep, cook. Learn to trust. Love. The historical “ other”.

Far from Romeo Juliet. Far far from it. Infact, it probably starts where SSpere left off.

Imagine in play space: Romeo is reborn. Some 20 years ahead of Juliet, who was stuck in a limbo in some portal. And they finally meet. And there is nothing in the way- no warring families, no borders, no jealous friends, no helpful friends either - there is nothing helping, there is nothing standing in the way - except themselves. And all their assumption and presumptions.

“oh! I dint realize you were so obsessive.”

“Oh! I didnt realize you had such a nasty streak”

“You dont listen”

“This is far from the ever after i imagined”

Well, as i write this i suppose this is following the graph of every relationship there is. Nothing unconventional here. Inspite of all our ideas and stories of how unconventional this is.

Also, we arent really gear shifting because we have no kids.

Am i ok with that? Not having a child? Yes. In many ways. It will be nice to have someone to shape and mould and protect and spoil. But when i imagine, i dont think i will be doing something very different from what my mother did - circumstances and conveniences may be different - but the structure is the same - shape, mould, protect and spoil and love - with different degrees of ingredients - but still a replication of the process. Thats what nature is best at, no? Replicating. I dont want to do that. I can see past that temptation.

A cat will do. Or a squirrel. Or a raven. Or a garden lizard, according to him.

Coco.

One coco gone from the terrace. So many coco’s playing around in the goundfloor garden.

Sleepy.

Call with K is postponed to tomorrow.

Project Objex continues to delvelop and offer rich insights offline. Though the thread is held online. No, The thread is seemingly held online.

I find myself pretty uninteresting at the moment.

Stitching classes with mom is nice. Nice is a strange word. And a strange word is what i need to describe it. She is clear and simple. With sketchy camera angling skills. But in her area of expertise, she leaves me with no room for doubts or confusions. Reminded me of how she used to teach me as a child. I remember she used to say a thing only twice, if i made her repeat a third time, i would get whacks for not paying attention. And now she seems to be the epitome of patience, as i also notice my child self coming to the fore, to provoke and test, with disinterest and wandering attention and confusion. She holds the thread with such firm clarity and patience, that i notice the child self dissolving away, making way for me to inhabit the present. In the beginning, 15 minutes into the session, i noticed fatigue and disinterest and irritation setting. And by the end of the class i was clear and inspired and received the information she was clearly trying to transmit. I notice myself eagerly summarising all that i understood at the end of the session. Satisfaction and closure for her. And for me.

All that the giver has to give, needs a taker.

So that the giver can give fully and completely. And be free.

I feel when i am listening to my mother, i feel i am also simultaneously receiving from my grandmother. A line of women who understood cloth. And clothes.

A line of women, who were a few generations ago not permitted to cover their breasts, fashioning the most interesting and quirky ways of covering and revealing.

A line of women, some of who also sliced and placed a breast or two at the altar of life unlived.

A life of women who may have forgotten the joys of sun and wind and rains on naked breasts.

For me to understand R, i had to bring it closer to home. Last night the news of his aunts passing, meant that the inevitable event of his parents passing is clearer in the minds eye. I wouldnt have understood it, if i hadnt played out the scene of mom passing. And i notice that i keep telling myself that i will hold it together, like a stoic -like the stoic. Though the physical sensation is of a collapse a caving in. Like it matters. As if what matters is how i respond to it.

And its true. In an improvisation, a sudden disappearance of an actor...

Ashwini BIde Deshpande takes the mach.

The transformer catches fire. In a way that i have never seen it catch fire before - with a big long sideways trialing flame. And abruptly stops. WE gather candles and he goes to alert the watchman to make the calls to the electricity board. And i wonder if its a hello from the other worlds.

And its true. In an improvisation, a sudden appearance of an actor...gentle drizzzle

And its true. In an improvisation, a sudden disappearance of an actor...and the only thing that matter there is how you respond to the moment, to the change in space, how i respond to a new space.

He does the tadka, a vertical flame lover the ladle he uses for tadka.

We are such theatre.

But why is our sensation of it so mundane and unheightned. As if there is no audience.

The sense of audience , of someone watching is what has fuelled most of the adventures in life. Like on is at once living at writing ones autobiography, and featuring in a biography, all at the same time. The vantage of the witness. Is what inspired this whole era of camera and film and now virtual.

Very many ways of the mirror.

The vantage of the inner witness. Makes me relax a little, teeny weeny, into the belly. The breath is quarter an inch deeper.

What was the word that mom used for leaving a little extra provision of cloth - side something...let me check the book. Not side - seam. Seam Allowance. At least i got the first alphabet right. S. Mom and me have a long way to here, i see.

I didnt realise or register that R’s aunt used to play male roles in the play. She was an actress. I didnt know R’s very married aunt was happy to flirt with the handsome doc while R was getting stitched up from his fall. But around her, knowing that she lived down stairs, and maybe from the kind of home she lived in and her seemingly very traditional exchanges with people around her, I shrank. I felt I would be judged for not fitting in line with the expectation of a space. Walked past her awkwardly, pausing only for pleasantries. Not visiting her in her room as often as i could have and as often as i wanted to even, for the strangeness of the exchange.

Nor having the balls to suggest playing some classical music to her. Some respite from the dreaded TV.

Did i judge her illness or her age or her wealth?

Made it all about me?

Wanting to listen to music quietly together with a practical stranger at her bedside, we must share some language no? Some connection had to have happened. Some step one and two had to be crossed to find that step three. Or could i have straight have jumped to three? Long and short, that want, which kept appearing as an image, i believed was a response to her experience of intense loneliness. And my helplessness.

Which is understandable, one of the first descriptions of her from people who knew her was how social she was -how she was surrounded by friends. Yet in the past year and a half she saw no one except the nurses who were with here round the clock, her children, daughterinlaw, sister who regularly visited and maybe us once in a while and her, and occasional visits from her nieces and nephews. Watched plenty of TV. And went in and out of a hospital. And lived in looping memory. Ate mostly from a tube. The dabba that formulas came in we now use to store flowers for the pooja room everyday.

I would have really liked to go and sit and listen to her, her stories. But i didnt have the balls. What if she rejected me. I would take it very personally. I would be very hurt.

Because i kept dancing on the brink of the rejections. Dreading rejections from R, from friends, from peers, from the kalari. That i so intensely yearn to belong.

And so imagining that possible rejection, and a cruel word - i never made an effort. Even when i wanted to.

Just before she left to the hospital the last time round, I didnt go into her room. Walking past the gesture of one of her nurses to come in - justifying it mentally with “not wearing a mask”. Maybe i was arguing a lot with R and had no bandwidth for the extended family at the moment. Maybe when i argue with R i see no reason why i live here. Maybe when i am arguing with R, i feel I dont belong here. And my whole presence here is a lie. And i dint want her too catch my dishonesty of intentions, of superficiality. My fears.

I have often been plagued by the feeling of helplessness here at buzz road. Much lesser now. This round of our stay has been far more hands on, “empowered”, and with room for changes and play of dynamics. Me allowing myself to do the things i feel like doing at the cost of being “seen”.

Noticing caste encoded in the body memory. Because i have no lived memory of it. My earliest association with identity is being told by my father that i had “no caste, no gender, no religion”, i was human and a girl as equal to any boy.

Why then did i feel my space shrink here? Did i subtly read your judgments without even noticing it? R tells me that you singled out your daughter for her dark skin. Not moer than half a shade darker surely, because i didnt at all notice any color variations in your skins; you all looked like you were from the same family and that was it. Is that why i feel great kindship with the people who work here - because i unknowingly somewhere by the color of my skin maybe they judge me as one of them?

So there is a story of rejection here that i picked up from the space and wove into my story.

Kabira khada baazar mein

Mangey sabki Kahir

Nahi kahoon sey dosti

Nahi kahoon sey bair

I spent an hour faffing to escape finishing this page. Because it doesnt seem to be getting over. One think is linking to the next and then to the next, faster than i can write.

Or want to write.

I can let go.

Yes.

I can let this go.

I dont have to hold on to it like the bag that L and I tugged between each other other over compulsion to be the ideal daughterinlaw/good samaritan.

Lets me just summarize to myself that today i glimpsed the family, this group of people bound together by blood relations, a lot deeper than i ever have. I noticed wounds, as much as i noticed bonds. I noticed bonds, as much as i noticed wounds.

And i have no idea how i walked into this story, which seems to be an epic in itself with my own sense of great mythical journeying. I want nothing from them except peace and resolving and healing of wounds.

And thats what seems to be happening.

No one is counting all this work we are doing in the GDP. I always liked micro economics over macro economics.

Something.

Sleep

___

I gently close the door behind me. Notice the skin a bit shirvelled from time spent a touch too long in war. Thank you for keeping me safe in your waters. Thank you for the waves.

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