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since0202 · 4 years

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A monster lives here

Summary: Grace Alo is exiled to Forks, Washington after being kicked out of high school right before senior year. The recent passing of her father mixed with moving into a shared bedroom with her cousin was enough to shake up any teenager's life. But upon her return, a inevitable meeting forces her to confront who she's destined to become to protect the home and people she loves.

Status: Ongoing

Ao3; Fanfiction.net

Chapter 1: Move

July

The summer before her senior year was when Principal Beeter officially signed off on Grace Alo's expulsion from Westmoore Highschool.

Probably for the best if she's being honest.

"Maybe I'll just get my GED and bounce off to the west coast and find something cool...there," Grace told her friend Margot between demolishing her second cherry slurpie.

"Right, because that totally works out for everyone," she mumbled back. "Imean, you didn't even do anything really. So what, one tiny trailer–"

"Can we not?" Grace interjected.

"Yeah, sorry." Margot cleared her throat and her eyes rolled up toward the sky.

"Mom's gonna kill me." Grace's eyes ran over the length of the highway. From below, she could just see the cars skirting the top of the overpass. She wished she was in one of those cars headed far from here.

Grace took one big deep breath and shook the nervous pain from her hands before grasping the handle and pushing open the front door.

Her mom was in the front hall, phone to her ear and back turned. This ought to be good. She could only make out the last bit of what she was saying:

"No, yeah, I really appreciate it. Thanks again, Charlie." Grace's mother hung up and held a hand to her eyes.

"Everything okay?"

She jumped and spun around to face her daughter, one hand still resting up on her forehead. At first, Grace thought she wasn't actually mad at her, but her body posture quickly tensed up, hackles raised, hands coming to rest firmly on her hips. Here it came.

"Grace, I have..no words," her anger was palpable. Grace had always been a little sensitive to those things, but this was new-her anger was rolling off of her in waves and making its way down the hall to crash over Grace.

"Mom, honestly, truly, I am so so sorry. I never thought-"

"No. You didn't. You never think." Harsh. Was she shaking or was that just a trick of the light?

"Mom, please. What can I do?" Grace was trembling now and a ringing sound was growing in her head. She could feel her fight or flight kicking in but had nowhere to run to. This was home.

She'd been in trouble before, but never like this. Sure, she'd never been kicked out of school before, but she was familiar with not having a plan. Not like this.

"Who was that on the phone?" she asked suddenly. Grace hadn't moved from her position from the door. The light backlit her mother's frame, the gold light washed over her, illuminating her auburn hair and pale skin. Her green eyes flashed up at me every so often with a look of determination and fatigue fazing through them. Her eyes were the only thing Grace inherited from her mother that she could place. her warm complexion, broad face, and silky black hair was reminiscent of her father. Every time her mom looked at her, she could see it and Grace would feel pain sweep through her all over again, even if it had lessened over time.

"That was your Uncle Charlie. You're moving to Forks." Her eyes were stern, but her lip quivered and she looked at Grace like it was the last time. They both knew it wasn't but her mom felt things harder than any person she'd known other than her dad. But, Grace could tell by the look on her face that she meant it.

"Wait, what?"

Charlie slammed the trunk shut as Grace settled into the front seat of his police cruiser. Sea-Tac was a bustling airport, but where she was headed was nowhere near this level of hopping. Even Oklahoma City blew Forks, Washington out of the water when it came to city centers.

Charlie settled into the driver seat and gave her a quick grin, which she tried to reciprocate quickly but it may have turned into a grimace. Grace turned her attention out the window as Charlie accelerated onto the road connecting to the highway.

"Bells is excited to see you." Charlie suddenly quipped. "And I got your registration at Forks High all squared away."

"Great, thanks." Grace kept her eyes on the deepening green protruding from the sidewalks, around bends, and over railings. They drove in uninterrupted silence for which she was thankful. Charlie was good that way-not too overbearing, didn't really hover, or force conversation. It was nice and she enjoyed the peace.

"Billy was asking about you." And just like that, the silence was gone. Grace cringed. "Billy Black. You remember him right?" A lump caught in her throat as she tried to keep her breathing even. Charlie waited a minute before continuing. "You know, he stopped by the house the day after I talked to your mom. Brought his son Jake with him, too. He's real excited that you're back in town."

Grace could feel him glance her way, mostly by the sound that his police blazer made as he looked over his extended right arm, but she didn't meet his gaze.

Billy Black.

She hadn't been back to the Quileute reservation in La Push in years. Even before dad died, Grace hadn't seen the familiar beach or sat in the quiet, dated homes, or sat around the communal fire at council meetings for awhile. But after her dad died, it became harder to go back. And once they moved to Oklahoma for his new job, her old life seemed to fade away. The reservation was always the same in her mind, like an old friend, waiting for her inevitable return. But it made her sad more than anything at this point. The comfort she once found there evaporated with her father's spirit. Going back now felt too hard.

Billy had called the house a bunch after we moved away. He was her dad's best friend. And then after her dad died, the cracks in his voice were too much to handle. So, she stopped picking up or taking the phone from her mom when he called and just let things dissipate-distance again, quiet.

The rain slicked roads sounded like a hushed whisper as we whizzed over the bridge and broke into the town of Forks. The small town was familiar too, but not home.

Charlie hadn't said much else on the drive in and once they pulled into the driveway of the Swan house, she breathed a sigh of relief and pushed the passenger door open, gulping in damp, warm air. The air was so much different here. It didn't feel like freedom, but possibility hung in the air more than in the dust of Oklahoma.

Grace hitched her backpack over her shoulder and trudged up the front steps—Charlie was close behind lugging her two heavy suitcases. She tried to reach for one but he shrugged her off with a chuckle and ushered her into the house.

When the door creaked open, Bella peeked her head around the corner in the kitchen, a warm smile breaking across her face.

"Grace!" she beamed and walked briskly across the small landing, lightly tripping over the threshold from the kitchen with a soft 'oh'. She wrapped her in a hug and Grace breathed a sigh of relief. This felt a little more like home. She smelled like soft lavender and some kind of sweet spice.

Bella and Grace grew close when she would visit the reservation and Charlie's during her two-week summers with him. When they weren't together, they wrote letters sporadically which evolved into weekly phone calls. Bella and Grace's mothers were still pretty close—they even road tripped through Oklahoma a few years ago and took them to the Phillbrooke Museum of Art. Grace hasn't laughed that much since then.

Grace had heard through her mom that Bella was moving to Forks so Renee could take off with Phil but Grace hadn't heard much aside from the occasional email here and there. Bella told her that she had met a guy and that things were "intense" but good. Grace had raised her eyebrows at that and vaguely remembered sending back something short in response. She did that a lot lately.

When they pulled back from the hug, Bella held onto the bottoms of Grace's elbows and smiled. Grace's thick plait had loosened on the flight and she felt scrubby.

"Come on, come upstairs." She clasped her hand in hers. Grace couldn't help but give a small smile as Bella tugged her up the narrow staircase and across the short hallway to her bedroom. Well, their shared bedroom now.

The size of the room wasn't bad. She had pushed her full bed up closer to the far window to make space and pushed her low dresser across from the foot of her bed. The small desk was shoved on the short wall directly to the right and Grace's bed sat under the large bay window that looked over the side yard and into the woods.

Her bed was covered in a soft, plush light green duvet with two fluffy pillows. her eyes rested on the black and white patterned blanket at the foot of the bed and her mouth drew into a hard line. Grace couldn't speak for a moment. "Is that…?"

"Yeah, Billy had Jake drop it off the last time he was here. A welcome home present, I guess. Hey, are you okay?" Bella pulled her hands from her back pockets and rested one on Grace's arm which prompted her to pull her face up and give a reassuring smile.

"Yeah, of course! This is great Bells, thanks." Charlie had been leaning against the doorframe, chaperoning her suitcases as Bella gave the tour.

She pulled open a little side closet that rested next to her bed. It held a small white chest of drawers that had little purple flowers painted on it.

"You can put your clothes in there." Bella gestured. Grace shot a look at Charlie.

"You painted those purple flowers yourself Charlie?" she teased. He held his hands up in surrender.

"Guilty." Bella and Grace laughed. She sat on the edge of her bed, fingers curling around the loose threads at the end of the blanket. Warmth rushed over her as she traced her fingers along the familiar pattern from her childhood.

This can work. She thought.

The next few days, Grace spent her time settling in, drawing, reading, and unpacking. Bella and Grace actually settled well into a routine together, sharing bathroom space, one showering while the other brushed their teeth, maximizing the bathroom space efficiently. Bella was a quiet sleeper, but Grace couldn't find it in her to sleep just yet, so she would stare up and above her head out the window trying to catch a side of the moon just waning out of sight.

Her third afternoon in Forks, Bella called from the bottom of the stairs.

"Come meet Edward!" she yelled. Grace skipped out of bed and shuffled down the steps, running a hand through her dark hair to try and tame it away from her face.

Bella had told her about Edward on her first night there. They'd stayed up too late, cross-legged on Bella's bed as she picked at pilling on her pajama pants and spoke in a hurried but elated voice about the Edward.

She had been right though, it sounded intense. While she winded her way through the last eight months, Grace couldn't help but feel bad that she hadn't been more engaged in her emails with her. Grace must have sounded pretty switched off to Bella. Faraway. She had picked up on none of this information about Edward in their email exchanges.

"He's really great. Unlike anyone I've ever met, honestly." she laughed a little at this and Grace tilted her head curiously.

"Oh yeah?" her eyes flitted onto her bed and back up toward Grace a couple times. She opened and closed her mouth as if to say something and landed on an exasperated sigh before smiling.

"Yeah, you're just going to have to meet him for yourself."

Color me interested, Bells. Grace thought.

When she landed on the bottom step, Grace looked to Bella who was standing next to a tall, pale, but generally handsome guy. Her brain hesitated over the word 'guy'. He seemed—felt—otherworldly somehow.

"Hey." she gave a tight lipped, but friendly smile. "I'm Grace, I've heard so much about you."

His eyes seemed incredibly kind and their golden hue was captivating but she still found herself tilting her head, as if she was trying to see around his eyes, golden orbs that wouldn't quite turn and reveal a hidden side. His eyes stayed focused on intently on Grace, undisturbed.

He dipped his head in response to her head tilt and smiled warmly (a hint of menace?) and held out a leather gloved hand.

"Nice to meet you, I'm Edward as Bella said. She's been very excited to have you here, so I've been really excited to meet you." Grace extended her hand to meet his.

As his hand closed around hers—light, but firm—Grace heard a low rumble, like thunder, building behind her left ear. The sound grew rapidly and felt like a building rush from a broken river coming up behind her to sweep her away. She was frozen in place thought and felt that rumble crowd into her head and start to vibrate violently.

From the top of her head, the rumble gained in speed and sound, pounding and pulling at her chest in a downward wave, crashing through her feet and rippling out around her. As the thunder left out of the bottom of her feet, the ripple manifested in a rolling wave under the floorboards, silent but moving away.

Grace audibly gasped but didn't pull her hand back, her eyes quickly scanning the floor for that outward ripple. The feeling had lasted less than 2 seconds.

"Did you see that?" her eyes shot up from the floor and landed on Edward. Grace thought she saw his lip curl ever so slightly. Bella looked unperturbed but her eyes widened in surprise.

"See what?" she looked around her. Grace took a beat and felt her heart settle as the aftershock of the ripple left her body, small vibrations smoothing into nothing.

"Nothing." she said shaking her head and letting her hand fall from Edwards. He looked nonplussed and raised his eyebrows comically at Bella.

"Well, Edward was gonna take me on a hike. Did you want to come?" Bella asked. Edward's face looked measured but somewhat surprised.

Something in Grace told her not to go.

"Nah, I'm going to check in with her mom and get some reading done." she replied, tucking some stray strands of hair behind her ear.

"Another bookworm. The likeness is growing." Edward said smoothly, a small smile peeling his mouth open and a glittering chuckle rolled out. Grace shrugged and wished them well and headed back upstairs to her room.

When she was safely behind the closed bedroom door, she let go of a full breath that caused her heart rate to spike. Her breathing became ragged and she felt an icy tingle snake slowly up her back. It felt like panic, but she wasn't sure why. Could it be what she felt when she shook Edward's hand? That was pretty weird, but it hadn't been followed by a sense of rising panic.

She put a hand over her chest and one on her stomach trying to take slow, smooth breaths like the counselor had told her. The one she'd seen when her dad died.

Focus on something still, calm your breath, calm your mind. In and out. In and out.

But every exhale came out as shuddering, then gasping breaths. Grace could feel her pulse quicken, beating against the skin of her wrist as if the blood was trying to burst through.

She collapsed onto her bed and her vision started to blur and go dark. It was over, this life, it had to be. This was it. But as the ceiling blurred in and out of focus, Grace wasn't upset or scared. As her vision faded, a warm coppery hand shimmered and reached out to her.

So she let go and reached back, relieved.

#twilight #twilight fanfic #jacob black #new mooon #bella swan #edward cullen #a monster lives here #chapter 1 #thepack #la push #fanfiction #smeyers #the pack

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thedragonchilde · 3 years

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My Fanfiction Greatest Hits

*I know, it sucks that a good chunk of them are Harry Potter, which tells you how long it's been since I wrote on a regular basis

Highest Acclaim:

Slipping, House MD, angst, warning for discussion of (canonical) suicide. Taub and House have it out in the wake of Kutner's death. Overtones of unrequited Taub/Kutner and House/Wilson, but apparently reads well enough as gen. Written in present tense, and tbh I don't think it would've been as good in past tense.

Though ffnet and AO3 were both ghost towns, LJ came in clutch with some really awesome reviews about how in-character and canonically plausible it was, and wound up on three rec lists, which is the most attention I've ever gotten on anything, and quite a high compliment given how cutthroat House fandom often was!

Fun fact, the only other fic I've ever had wind up on a rec list was Something to Talk About, a patently ridiculous Big Bang Theory flashfic in which Raj and Howard are frustratingly oblivious to each other's signals.

Actual Contest Winners:

Ghost!, Harry Potter, JR's dad died before he was born, but that doesn't mean he can't still meet him. First person epistolary. First place in a next-gen drabble contest.

Charming, Harry Potter, Rita and Gilderoy came by their claims to infamy through each other. Has since been wildly jossed. Second place in a oneshot contest that asked us to use five randomly chosen words in a story.

Most Enduring:

No Sense of Humor?, Mulan II, Princess Su musing on how her eldest sister has changed

Paradox Confessional, Beetlejuice (animated), the most circuitous love confession ever, BJ/LD. First person monologue. Nowadays I actually think this one is pretty clumsily written.

I wrote these fuckers, like, thirteen years ago, and I occasionally still get faves. It's kind of cool, because I know that means someone has just discovered or rekindled the fandom and binged everything that exists for it, and as a niche fandomer myself, I'm honored to be part of people's "HOLY SHIT THERE'S FIC FOR THIS I'M NOT ALONE" elation.

Best Thing I Never Finished:

Break Me Shake Me, Teen Titans, tackling Speedy's abandonment issues in the context of the TV show, only one chapter written

I think I once figured it would come to about five chapters? I'm aiming to format it like an episode. Have an outline for the whole thing (or at least I did years ago), but first I got tripped up on how to open the next chapter, and then I hit a plot snag, and then I couldn't get back into TT brain. But like. I'm pretty proud of what I have.

Best Thing Nobody Read:

Blow to the Heart, G Gundam, George thought that having a conversation about love was a good idea for some reason, and nobody anticipated Chibodee accidentally getting way more revealing than he wanted to. Established Domon/Rain and unrequited Chibodee/Domon. First person monologue (implied conversation, with responses gleaned from context).

Still proud of this exercise in character voice. Sometimes wonder if I should attempt to remix this as a proper prose piece, though my worry is screwing up/slowing down the pacing too much? And I know generally remixes are meant to be done by someone else. Other options are comic (though that's a big undertaking) and podfic (but who would listen?).

Claims to Fame:

Paradox Confessional already covered above

She's So High, Xiaolin Showdown, crushes suck, especially when she's your housemate, and so are the other guys who are into her, and you're just a big oaf. Mostly-onesided KimiClay. Yes, this was originally a songfic. Fun fact, once upon a time I had planned on writing a follow-up from Kimiko's POV based around "Head Over Feet".

In Sickness and In Health, CATS, warning for discussion of mortality, Jennyanydots faces a problem she can't fix on her own. Jenny/Bustopher. I recently had an interaction on discord that roughly went "hey, you're the one who wrote that thing! Fellow shipper! I found the ending an unsatisfying copout."

Enchanted, Harry Potter, warning for explicit drunkenness and implicit sex, it's not easy to be an ugly brutish Slytherin. Crabbe/Millicent. I got a really gorgeous comment on this through an archive that I don't believe exists anymore.

The Video, Yu-Gi-Oh, warning for copious mentions of sex and childbirth, sex ed assembly actually shows porn. No fucking way am I linking this, but this OOC nightmare is what cemented my reputation as a crack writer. (I'll just have to dig up some crack that's actually still readable.)

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12tardis · 4 years

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Love Language. (Newt Scamander x Reader)

Warnings: brief mentions of bullying Pairing: Newt Scamander x Reader

Summary: Newt notices your love for sunflowers during your early years at Hogwarts and he’ll do anything to see you smile. Tooth-rotting fluff and some jealous, pining and protective Newt.

Authors note: This random idea popped into my head when I should have been doing my uni readings. I hope you like it! Please send me any ideas/requests that you have. I NEED inspo.

Words: 5,272

Newt had been hopelessly in love with you since second year and one of his favourite things that never failed to set his heart aflutter was watching you in Herbology lessons. You were always so excited and happy when you would listen to Professor Robson talk about all the different magical plants. This lesson was no different in that respect, you were still eagerly hanging off the Professors words, but Newt kept catching you glancing at the sunflowers that had recently been planted by the Greenhouse.

He’d seen you admiring the flowers from afar for the last couple of weeks actually, since the very day they’d bloomed and he savoured the look of awe on your face and the small imperceptible smile you would wear every time you saw them. You were walking across the grounds together, headed for Potions class and Newt saw the way your eyes drifted back to the flowers as he told you about the most recent shenanigans in the Scamander household.

Of course, you would be most enthralled by a simple muggle flower instead of all the stunning magical flowers the castle had to offer. He was pretty certain they had only planted said flowers for the nurses to use in the medical ward.

The flowers didn’t cross his mind again until he walked into the Hufflepuff common room several weeks later. He smiled when he saw you sat in your favourite spot, curled up underneath a canopy of hanging plants. “Hey! I didn’t see you at lunch. Have you been hiding?”, he grinned at you, flopping down beside you and nudging you. Newt knew something was bothering you immediately when he noticed the way you flinched slightly at his presence and glanced at him, barely meeting his eye before you quickly looked back at your book. “Oh hey, Newt. How was your day?” you murmured quietly, and Newt then noticed the dark circles under your eyes.

The way you had shied away from him must have been what he looked like to everyone else, including you when you had first met. He had initially been skittish around you but you had quickly broken down his barriers and were now the only person, other than his family that he could maintain eye contact with without becoming a nervous wreck. “Y/N, what’s wrong?”, Newt asked as he gently touched your arm, looking at you in concern. You tensed in response and considered lying to him briefly, but Newt knew you too well and there was no real reason for you to lie to your best friend.

Newt saw you hesitating, so he sunk down in the chair beside you a bit awkwardly, in an attempt to get you to meet his eye. “It’s...it’s nothing. It’s stupid,” you muttered, looking back at him and letting out a sigh when you saw he was looking at you with nothing but patience and concern in his eyes. Newt was the kindest person you’d ever met and you knew he would never judge you or ridicule you for your feelings. “I just couldn’t sleep last night because...because-I-kept-having-nightmares-about-the-night-my-mother-died”, you said in a rush but you knew Newt had heard you clear as day judging from the breath he let out in response.

You stared down at your lap blankly and let out noise of surprise when Newt suddenly wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into him after a minute or two. And if he noticed a few tears spill from your eyes he didn’t say a thing. “Anything that upsets you isn’t stupid, Y/N. Your feelings matter. You taught me that. You don’t ever have to suffer alone because you have me and I’m always here for you.” Newt said firmly as he focused all his energy on making you feel safe and cared for.

He stayed by your side all evening, only leaving momentarily to fetch you both some dinner before he returned to your side, keeping you company. His side was pressed against yours when you were both curled up by the fire and he would be lying if he said he didn’t cherish the contact. You perked up a little as the hours wore on, but he could see you were still a little crestfallen and scared to sleep when you headed off to bed that evening.

Newt watched on with a small smile of pride the next day when he saw the way your eyes lit up at the sight of the single sunflower that was sat against the tree where the two of you had decided to sit and study. You clutched the flower in your hands and smiled back at Newt and he merely raised his eyebrows with a hum. “What an odd thing to leave behind,” he murmured as he sat down, leaning against the tree and thinking the scolding he’d received from Professor Robson that morning when she’d caught him cutting the flower was well worth it just to see you smile again.

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

Almost exactly three years later when you were both sixth years Newt was feeling rather bitter and sorry for himself as he watched the one and only Gryffindor seeker Zachary Lindensbaum bragging to his friends about the hot date he had upcoming that weekend with none other than you, the love of his life.

Newt had been sat right beside you the day before at breakfast as you opened the letter from Zachary of his hideous hasty scrawl asking you if you would accompany him on a date to Hogsmead. Newt had nearly scoffed when he saw the handwriting, rolling his eyes because he would never write you something so careless but his thoughts were interrupted when he saw the deep blush that suddenly covered your cheeks and Newt could have sworn he felt his heart give out.

He watched you as you flipped your hair over your shoulder and glanced back at the Gryffindor boy in question, smiling bashfully at him with a small wave and he honestly thought he was going to throw up his half-eaten breakfast.

She can’t possibly like a guy like that

She is so far out of his league it’s ridiculous

Newt balled his hands into fists and all he could hear was his heart pounding in his ears when Zachary was suddenly at your side, shoving himself between yourself and Newt, already trying to charm your pants off. Newt excused himself from the hall quickly, not looking back at you as he fled the room, knowing he needed to remove himself from the situation before he did something to upset you.

Is this what heart break feels like?

He avoided you the next few days because it made his chest physically hurt to see you. Avoiding you was easy enough since Zachary seemed to be plastered at your side now, even at break times which had always traditionally been your time together.

Newt had never considered himself a jealous person before. Protective yes, he’d learnt about that particular characteristic the first time he’d seen you cry but the hot coil of jealousy that grew in the pit of his stomach at seeing Zachary push a strand of your hair back from your face was a foreign feeling to him. He suddenly found himself thinking violent thoughts for the first time in his life and oh what he would give to punch Zachary in the mouth right now.

His jaw was hurting from how hard he’d been grinding his teeth in the great hall that morning when he saw Zachary gift you with a single red rose. Newt couldn’t help but roll his eyes at the cocky smirk the boy wore as he presented you the flower and he felt the briefest sense of glee when he saw your fake smile in response. What an idiot. You hated roses. They didn’t suit your vibrant and warm personality at all. Newt turned away and got to his feet after he saw a more genuine smile pass over your face and he suddenly felt that sickening ugly sensation return to his stomach.

And if Newt hadn’t been so focused on fleeing from you like a shy first year all over again he would have noticed the uncomfortable expression you wore each time Zachary cornered you or the way your eyes immediately flew to him when he came into the room. He would have seen the hurt expression you wore every time Newt turned away from you. You didn’t like Zachary’s touch. It felt wrong and it felt invasive and not at all like Newt’s comforting touch.

It was the day you were due to go on the dreaded date and Newt was sulking in the library, hissing back at Pickett who was lecturing him for not being honest with you about his feelings. He hadn’t spoken to you in 5 days now and it was making him truly miserable. He knew he was being melodramatic, but he swore he would never be warm again if he didn’t hear your laughter again soon.

You were so beautiful and carefree when you were laughing at one of his terrible jokes. He could hardly breathe when you would look at him with that twinkle in your eyes and you would grip him close like he was the only person in the world that mattered. What he would give to go back in time and tell you just ho-

Newt was broken out of his daydreaming with a yelp when Pickett scratched him lightly behind his ear to grab his attention and it only took him a few seconds to pick up on the whispered conversation occurring between some girls from your Potions class.

“Did you hear about Zachary and Lindsay getting back together?”

“But I thought he was going out with Y/N today? He hasn’t shut up about it all week”

“No, he went right up to Y/N this morning and told her it was all a prank. In front of EVERYONE. Apparently, his friends set him up to it.”

Newt had heard enough and quickly slammed his text book shut, practically sprinting from the library as he headed towards the one place he knew you would be at this time of day but he was momentarily distracted when the sunflowers by the greenhouses caught his eye and he saw Professor Robson crouched down , re-potting a bunch of her plants.

“Professor Robson!”, he half shouted, cringing in apology when the teacher dropped one of the plants in response and turned around to glare at Newt accusingly. “Sorry I...Can I trouble you for one of the sunflowers? In a pot maybe? You see my friend is having a bad day and I would really like to cheer her up”.

The Professor stood up as she looked at Newt curiously and dusted her hands off on her apron, grabbing one of the terracotta pots. “This friend doesn’t happen to be Miss Y/N does it?”, she hummed, grabbing a small shovel and passing it to Newt who gaped are her in response to which she only laughed.

“You think I haven’t noticed her fondness for my sunflowers or your fondness for her?”, she teased. Newt blushed darkly in response and Professor Robson only laughed again before she set to work, instructing Newt on how to dig up the flower and the root ball, helping him quickly pot it up but having him do most of the work. “Very well then. You best hurry, Mr Scamander. I don’t want my best student being miserable before her exam.”

Newt quickly thanked her before he ran off in the direction of where he knew you were, leaping up the steps to your hiding place and carefully setting the potted flower down behind you when he saw you hugging your knees to your chest and sniffling quietly as you rocked back and forth slightly. He thought to himself for a moment before he settled down behind you.

“Y/N,” he called out quietly so as not to startle you as he gently wrapped his arms around you from behind. He let out a breath of relief when you relaxed back against him, a fresh flood of tears coming on as you sniffled loudly “N-Newt!”

Newt hummed as he slipped his arms around your middle, hugging you close and gradually adjusting to the feel of you against him, having not held you in his arms like this since 4th year when some girls had been bullying you (read here). “Shhh shhh, I’ve got you. He’s an absolute idiot for ruining his chances with someone as incredible as you”, he murmured as he hooked his chin over your shoulder.

You sniffled as you shook your head in response, wiping your eyes “I don’t give a rats about him, I’ve just never been so humiliated before!” you said only crying more at the memory, closing your eyes tightly. “Everyone was watching and so many people were laughing at me. I wasn’t even going to go out with the idiot, but he wouldn’t let me get a word in all week and now he has the audacity to humiliate me in front of the entire school! I can never show my face again! Everyone thinks I’m a joke. Just the weirdo girl that nobody wants to date.”

Newt listened to you carefully, his mouth dropping open when you said you didn’t want to date Zachary after all, but you were still rambling on before he could respond. “And you keep avoiding me I was scared you didn’t want to be my friend anymore! What did I do, Newt? You’re my best friend I can’t bear you hating me. I’m s-sorry for whatever I did”.

Newt noticed you were starting to tremble a bit against him as you were growing hysterical. “Y/N, Y/N,” he murmured quickly, gently stroking your hair back in an attempt to get you to look at him and grimacing when you only seemed to be escalating “Y/N stop! You did nothing wrong. I was being selfish. I was upset that you might want to date someone as awful as Zachary and I was selfish and I’m sorry. I could never ever hate you” he said, brushing your tears away softly and then taking your hands from where you had them bunched up in your robes. “And while you may have felt embarrassed I’m certain everyone else must have been sitting there thinking about what an ass Zachary made of himself and anyone who did laugh is not worth your time anyway.” He said slowly and clearly, making sure you were listening to him properly.

“He is an absolutely vile numbskull”, he continued “and you are incredible and stunning, and any guy will be lucky to date you. More than lucky to date you because no one will be truly worthy of someone as clever, kind-hearted, loyal and... beautiful as you.” Newt trailed off, setting his own nerves aside in favour of calming you down.

He hummed and squeezed your hands when you had settled down a while later, gently uncurling one of his arms from around you and then awkwardly reaching back behind himself until he could grab the sunflower, carefully reaching around you again and setting it in front of you “I dug this up for you to cheer you up.”

You gasped in response and let go of Newt’s hands, quickly snatching the pot plant up and holding it to your chest with a wide smile. Newt immediately missed your warmth against him, but he could only smile when he saw your reaction and watched the way you stared at the flower with pure unbridled happiness, your hurt seemingly washed away as simply as that.

“Newt this is my favourite flower how did you know? How did you get this?”, you asked, turning around to face him still clutching the flowerpot tightly against yourself. Good god you were adorable.

Newt smiled and scratched the back of his neck, willing himself not to blush and give away his feelings “I-well I noticed you always stare at them in Herbology classes and Professor Robson helped me. Well I did the work, but she told me how to dig it up.” He murmured and you then spotted the soil that covered his hands.

You set the pot down again beside you before you quickly flung your arms around Newt’s neck, settling in his lap without a thought and pressing a firm kiss to his cheek “thank you so much!” You breathed, oblivious to the deep blush that filled his cheeks at the kiss and the way you had settled in his lap. “Newton Scamander you are too good for this world,” you murmured into his shoulder.

Newt smiled as he slowly wrapped his arms around you in response, carefully settling back against the wall as he held you close not quite believing that you were really there sitting in his lap, snuggled with your face pressed into his shoulder. He was too shy to respond and tell you that you were his world.

Newt watched on with a smug smile a week later when Zachary Lindensbaum walked into the great hall sporting a bright purple head of hair, staring down at his feet in humiliation as the students started to laugh at him. You looked over at Zachary with your jaw agape and then stared at Newt in shock when you noticed his shoulders shaking with laughter. “Did you do that?”, you whispered leaning into him as you watched Zachary grab some food before storming out of the hall.

Newt shrugged and smiled innocently at you before he reached over and squeezed your hand “no one upsets you and gets away with it...plus I quite like the purple don’t you?”, he smiled, pulling his hand back when you only continued to stare at him. “Oh come on it will only last a week. Maybe two at most” he murmured, pouting at you.

A couple more moments passed before you let out a sudden loud peel of laughter, leaning into Newts shoulder as you snorted, slapping your hand against his knee and he could have sworn he’d fallen for you all over again.

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

Several years later you and Newt had only been dating for a few months when he found you a little downhearted in your apartment one evening because of a failed job interview. Newt smiled when he spotted you curled up on the couch, hugging one of the cushions to your chest with a slight pout on your lips.

“Oh love, you don’t even know how it went yet, don’t look so down.” Newt said softly as he walked over to you and crouched down beside the couch, stroking your hair back. You sighed, closing your eyes as you leant into his touch slightly still not tired of his loving touches. “It went terribly though. I couldn’t remember a single useful point. He thinks I’m a fool.” you muttered, still not opening your eyes.

You sat up quickly a second later, feeling guilty for moping around when you had both agreed to put work matters aside for the evening and just enjoy each other’s company. You pressed a gentle kiss to Newt’s temple when he too got to his feet, smiling apologetically up at him. “Let me just go and shower and freshen up and then I’ll get started on dinner”, you said, squeezing his arm before you disappeared into the bathroom in your shared apartment.

Newt smiled after you and shook his head as he suddenly realised how to cheer you up. He grabbed his coat and slipped it on before he walked out of the apartment and apparated to the nearby markets where he quickly grabbed some supplies to make your favourite meal, stopping in at your favourite florist before he apparated back to the apartment all before you finished in the shower.

He set to work preparing dinner after he had carefully set the dozen sunflowers into the finest vase he had and set it in the middle of the dining table in the other room. You frowned at him when you entered the kitchen a short while later “Oh Newt you shouldn’t have. I promised I’d cook tonight”, you murmured though you were incredibly touched when you recognised him plating up all your favourite foods.

You went to go and set the table, already feeling much better from Newts thoughtfulness and you paused when you saw the sunflowers adorning the table. Your face instantly broke out into wide smile as you walked over to the flowers, lightly touching them as you admired them. Reminiscing over all the other times Newt had surprised you with the same flowers.

You startled slightly when you felt Newt’s arms wrapping around you from behind, his hands settling over your waist as he pressed a series of feather light kisses to your jaw. “You always know how to make me feel like the luckiest girl in the world”, you breathed, tipping your head back against his shoulder and sucking in a breath when he began pressing kisses to the sensitive skin of your neck instead.

“I will always do everything in my power to make you smile,” Newt whispered into your ear, kissing down from your ear and stopping at your collar bone “because you are my everything and seeing you smile does things to my heart.”

You twirled around in his arms, wrapping your arms around his neck lazily and gazing into his eyes with a soft smile before you leant up on your toes and kissed him deeply. You slowly pulled back from the kiss as you gently toyed with his hair at the base of his neck, smiling teasingly as you pressed your body flush against his “dinner can wait don’t you think?”

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

About a year after your wedding you were waddling through the apartment heavily pregnant with your first child, searching for your husband which lead you towards his case.

You were surprised when you were actually able to open the case since Newt had put a locking charm on it months ago when you first began showing. You had had many arguments since then over the fact that Newt would no longer let you into his case to see your creatures but he just never seemed to budge. This was very out of character for him since Newt had always previously crumbled at your pleading. Usually all it would take was one look and a carefully timed bat of your eyelashes and Newt would cave like putty in your hands.

“Newt, I’m pregnant I’m NOT fatally wounded!”

“Y/N, I know that and that is precisely why I can’t let you back into the case until after the little one is born!”

“The creatures would never hurt me or the baby! They never have before. You’re being ridiculous! I just want to see my babies.”

“Y/N,I am not discussing this further, it’s a no and that’s final. No! Don’t you dare make the puppy dog eyes at me they won’t work this time!” He said firmly, crossing his arms as he squared his shoulders and stared back at you with an expression you’d never seen directed at you before.

You huffed and stormed away from Newt, sitting down on your bed and sighing loudly. Your love and adoration for your husband had never wavered, even after years of being with him but his stubbornness was doing your head in right now! You understood he was protective of you and the baby, but you weren’t used to seeing him so firm with you and in your very hormonal state it was all the more frustrating.

Now months later he still hadn’t shown any inkling of relenting in his over-protective ways, in fact he seemed to be hovering around you even more lately like you were going to break any given moment. He’d been basically following you around like a lost dog all morning, stepping in to do things for you that he decided were too taxing on your body and as much as you liked to pretend that it irritated you, you secretly found it rather adorable.

So now when you were able to open the case you couldn’t help but do a little victory dance before you went to step inside the case. You rolled your eyes in annoyance when Newt suddenly appeared from inside the case. “Uh uh uh”, he reprimanded as he waggled his finger at you and you frowned at him ready to put up a fight, raising your eyebrows when he held his hand out to you.

“I’m not just going to let my very pregnant wife try to navigate the staircase she has slipped on more times than I can remember on her own now am I?” he said before he smiled lovingly at you and lead you down into the case, taking the utmost care while you just stared at him like he had grown two heads.

“The creatures aren’t really the reason why I wouldn’t let you come down here. They love you far too much and they’ve always been exceptionally careful with you because they know there’d be hell to pay if they ever did harm you”, he explained, squeezing your hand as the creatures all rushed over to greet you.

The Niffler climbed up onto you and nuzzled at you happily while the rest of the creatures followed suit, nuzzling into you too. You blinked back tears as you pet all the creatures happily, having not realised just how much you had missed them all. You looked back at Newt with a frown “then why?”

Newt took a moment to admire you, standing there with one hand cradling your stomach and the other petting the creatures who were loving on you. It was a vision he never wanted to forget as he was reminded of all the years he’d spent pining over you and now here you were, your stomach round with his baby as you embraced his creatures.

Newt was shaken out of his musings when you repeated your question and he smiled again, making his way through the crowd of creatures and taking your hand “patience my love, I’m getting to it.” He teased, looping his arm with your own and guiding you through the case at a leisurely pace, taking his time because it amused him to see the mixture of impatience and confusion on your face.

You tipped your head aside curiously when you recognised that he was leading you towards the greenhouse and field he’d made for you the previous year, choking oh your own breath when you saw the new field he’d obviously planted, filled with rows upon rows of flourishing sunflowers “Newt”, you gasped, lifting your hand to your mouth.

You had tried several times to grow your own flowers over the years but none of your attempts had ever taken much to your dismay because magic simply wouldn’t work. So the first time Newt had seen you cry because of your pregnancy hormones he had made up his mind that he would grow you a whole field of them himself.

He’d had to read up on many muggle gardening books in preparation and had spent the last several months toiling away at the soil, checking on the seedlings every day between tending to your greenhouse of plants as well since he hadn’t allowed you into the case to care for them yourself. There had been many times he’d nearly given up in frustration but he persevered imagining how happy you would be when the flowers finally did grow.

Of course, the surprise was a big factor in keeping you away from his case but he also just wanted to keep you from over exerting yourself which he knew you would, wanting to help him out as much you could. Now you were so far along into the pregnancy and allowing yourself plenty of rest Newt figured he could let you back into the case and you would take it easy.

“This must have taken you months, Newt”, you breathed out, leaning into him as you looked around you in awe. “Well, I know you’ve been feeling a little emotional with all the changes happening to your body and I knew this would make you happy.” Newt murmured, smiling down at you “I’m quite proud of myself really. This is all by hand.” he said before he lead you over to the small stone bench he’d build, sat under a Rowan tree that was almost identical to Pickett’s home tree that you both used to sit under back at Hogwarts.

“And I thought this would be the perfect spot for you to sit and relax with the little one when he or she finally comes,” Newt explained, pulling you to sit down next to him. “Oh, Sweetheart”, he murmured, wrapping his arms around you when he noticed you had begun to cry, gently brushing your tears away and chuckling lightly. “And to think you were about ready to slap me just a few minutes ago,” he teased, pressing a kiss to your temple.

You sniffled and lay your head on his shoulder, holding his hands tightly in your own. “I don’t know what I ever did to deserve you. This is...I can’t believe you’ve done all of this. It’s perfect Newt, I couldn’t have even dreamt this in my wildest imaginations,” you murmured, your emotions eventually settling down again, allowing you to enjoy the moment properly.

“I can’t believe you’ve put up with all of my tantrums these past few weeks just to keep this a surprise”, you murmured, shaking your head at him and Newt chuckled again, pressing a kiss to the back of your hand. “Oh they’re hardly tantrums. Plus, I find you especially adorable when you’re mad”, he said, grinning widely when you frowned in response.

“See! You get this cute little pout and you think you’re so tough. It’s quite entertaining really.” Newt teased you more, his fingers lightly tickling your sides and you grabbed his hands, the retort dying on your lips when you felt a sudden kick in your stomach. Your eyes widened and you quickly pulled Newt’s hands to rest over your stomach “do you feel that?”

Newt’s eyes widened and his mouth dropped open into a little ‘o’ when you both felt the baby kicking again and he smiled widely, lowering his face to your stomach and pressing a kiss there. “Oh, hello little one, are you feeling a little restless in there?”, he murmured, keeping his hands on your stomach as he lay his ear against you and listened intently, unshed tears shining in his own eyes.

You smiled down at your husband and reached down to gently card your fingers through his curls, shifting a bit when the baby kicked again but keeping your eyes trained on Newt. “I can’t wait to meet you. I bet you’re going to be just as beautiful as your mother,” Newt murmured lowly, looking up at you through his lashes and smiling lovingly at you.

You smiled and sat like that with Newt sat at your feet, leaning against your thighs with his head propped carefully against your stomach and your hands thread together. You both watched the sunset in the new garden sanctuary Newt had built for you and you knew you would always be happy and loved so long as Newt was beside you.

PLEASE SEND ME PROMPTS! -MASTERLIST HERE-

#newt scamander x reader #newt scamander x y/n #newt scamander #fbawtft #fantastic beasts and where to find them #newt scamander x you #jealous newt #protective newt #harry potter #eddie redmayne #drabble

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itmighthavebeenintentional · 4 years

Text

Walk Me Home - Ch 10

Summary: Twenty-four years ago, Kimberly Harper met a boy who changed the course of her entire life before up and leaving one night. She spent years moving past the memories, building a stable, satisfying career as professor of folklore and mythology at the local university. Then the accidents start, and she’s forced to seek help among her hunter contacts. All it takes is a knock on her office door to send Kimber’s carefully built emotional walls crumbling to the ground.

Featuring: Teen Winchesters, high school romance, reunions, misunderstandings, high intensity emotional turmoil, Dean’s love of pie, Dean being adorable, Sam being adorable and maybe a bit nosy eventually, much group adorkable-ness, show-style investigation, mention of our favorite werewolf, gratuitous and obvious love of fall, DID I MENTION ROMANCE, fluff, smut, tension.

Warnings: Show level violence, show level parental neglect (let’s not John bash, I’m just saying), show-style witchcraft, show-level mental manipulation, stalking, bit of angst, sexual content (higher than show level),swearing, general yearning

Word Count: 1856

Author’s Note: Had some extra time today, so I figured I’d go ahead and post. We’ve reached the end, folks. Thank you to everyone for reading, reblogging, liking, and especially all the lovely comments. A million thanks to @mskathywriteswords , @fangirlxwritesx67 , and @cracksinthewalls for helping my story shine. @thoughtslikeaminefield , thank you for the lovely image for the story. I hope everyone enjoyed it all as much as I do.

Keep in Mind: There are a lot of flashbacks. I tried to write current events in present tense and flashbacks in past tense. Here’s hoping I got everything right!

Please read/heed the warnings. 18+ ONLY.

In Case You Missed It: Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3 | Ch 4 | Ch 5 | Ch 6 | Ch 7 | Ch 8 | Ch 9 ItMightHaveBeenIntentional’s Masterlist

Chapter 10

“Sam looks really irritated,” Kimber whispers to Dean. The younger Winchester brother has just excused himself to the restroom, but the diner is pretty quiet, and she doesn’t want to risk Sam overhearing.

“Well, yeah,” Dean says, raising his coffee to take a deep, life-affirming slurp. He doesn’t bother to lower his tone or modulate his pitch in the slightest, and Kimber shoots him an exasperated look. “I stuck him with clean-up duty last night so I could get lucky. Not to mention, our room was the only free one at the motel, remember, so he either slept there or in his car. He’s not irritated, he’s pissed as hell and probably a little jealous.”

“But you didn’t get lucky last night,” Kimber says.

“Went home with my high school sweetheart, got to see her unmentionables, and spent the whole night in bed with her after eating semi-homemade apple pie. I’d say I got pretty damned lucky.”

She sends an elbow his way, but he’s expecting it and leans back so she overshoots and lands across his lap. She splutters indignantly as she rights herself while he takes another calm drink of his coffee.

“Seriously, though, he’s not pissed at you. The first few months after we left, the kid wouldn’t shut up about you. He practically worshipped you: hot, nerdy as hell, the whole package. And,” he adds, his teasing expression mellowing to one of genuine appreciation, “you really helped him out with that AP stuff. He got into Stanford because of you.”

“Shut up,” she says, her face heating. “He got into Stanford? That was him, and you know it. I just gave him some resources he didn’t know about, that’s all.”

“And I was able to keep up with all my AP classes no matter where we moved, which was a huge deal to me,” Sam says as he slides into the booth across from them. “You guys talking about me behind my back?”

“Always,” Dean smirks. “So, what’d you find out?”

“Does the name ‘Jim Weeks’ mean anything to you, Kimber?”

She frowns, setting her fork down on the edge of her plate. “It does. I helped him out, god, what...eight, nine years ago? He hadn’t been hunting very long, maybe a year or two, and he was investigating some...Let me think, hang on.” She closes her eyes, mentally shifting through years of research, both hers and others’.

“Human sacrifices. There was a symbol carved into all the victims. I helped him find the source, the deity it stood for. It was one of my closed cases; that’s why I didn’t bring it up. He called me a few weeks later, said he’d taken care of everything.”

“Well, he was wrong,” Sam says, his face grave. “I found his journal in the witch’s car. Jim documented you helping him, what you found, where you worked, and then how the case wrapped up. You actually helped him take down en entire coven of witches, guess he didn’t mention that part. Then he went on hunting for another seven and a half years, but a few months ago, he started to write about feeling like someone was watching him, tailing him from case to case.”

Sam pauses, giving her a moment to take in this new information, then he continues.

“Said he was starting to have periods of time where he didn’t remember stuff, would wake up in the middle of the road, in the middle of the woods. He wrote about finding a doll in his car one morning; it, uh..looked like him. Throat was slit, red paint, all of it.”

Sam clears his throat, flexing his fingers on the table top as he watches her carefully. Dean’s hand closes over hers under the table, and she realizes her fingers are shaking.

“Go on,” she says. She doesn’t want to hear what’s coming next, she really already knows, but she needs to hear it.

“The entries in his journal stop after that. The cover was soaked in dried blood. So...yeah. I did some checking, and Jim died a few months back. The scene was...nasty.”

“So, who was our nutbag?” Dean asks. His tone is rough as he squeezes Kimber’s fingers.

“I looked into the county records where Jim took down the coven. I don’t think he did too much research into the actual witches themselves; the coven included a family, a mom and dad and a teenager. Jim thought he got the whole coven, but maybe the teenager wasn’t at that meeting? At any rate, the papers from around then talked about the murdered couple’s missing child, and then the kid just dropped out of mention.”

“Okay, Jim was sloppy, and the kid survived, and what...swore revenge? How’d he find Jim again?”

“I found these folded up in the front of the journal,” Sam says, smoothing a couple of newspaper articles out on the table. The edges are frayed and ragged, torn rather than cut. There are dark smears on both, smudges and stains from who knows what, and Kimber’s gorge rises higher the longer she stares down at them.

The first article dates back to the first investigation, showing a grainy photograph of police and federal officers milling around behind crime scene tape. Kimber points to a figure off to the side, suited and facing the camera almost straight on.

“That’s Jim,” she says, her voice quiet. He looks painfully young in the photograph, and her chest twinges. The caption labels him as “FBI Special Agent Gaiman.”

She looks at the second article, which is much more recent. She notices immediately that the location is the same, the premise almost identical. “Town’s Dark Past Resurfaces After Nearly a Decade” reads the headline. She looks for Jim’s face, spotting it in the crowd once more, despite him aging considerably in the years since she met him.

“He used the same name again,” Dean says, shaking his head. “I mean, he didn’t have much choice, since it was probably the same cops on the case, but still. Probably how the witch found him. Might’ve started up the sacrifices again just to draw Jim out. Anything else in the car, Sam?”

Sam shakes his head, his mouth working as if he’s got a bad taste in his mouth. “More or less standard witch paraphernalia, a couple more knives. I didn’t see anything indicating we have anyone else to watch out for.”

Dean purses his lips, then looks to Kimber. “You doin’ okay?”

Kimber takes the question seriously, doing a quick bit of mental introspection. “Yeah, I think...I mean...Okay, so I’m still queasy, but I don’t feel like someone’s breathing down my neck anymore. I’m going to be jumpy for a while, and I am definitely not going to stop going to my Thursday night classes anytime soon. But, yeah. If I’m not completely okay at the moment, I know I’m going to be.”

“That’s my girl.” Dean leans over, pressing a kiss to Kimber’s cheek. Sam looks away, but not before Kimber catches the embarrassed smile on his face. Dean slides from the booth, strolling casually over to the register and grinning at the elderly waitress, who blushes and giggles as she takes the check from him.

“Dad wouldn’t let him call you,” Sam says quietly. Kimber’s eyes flash to Sam, startled.

“When we left. Dean wanted to. He tried to, but Dad said he couldn’t. Said you were a distraction we couldn’t afford. He absolutely forbade it. They got in a fight, the worst one I ever saw between them when we were kids, and Dad...he...well, he, uh...He put his foot down. And later, after Dad died...I think Dean was ashamed. Maybe. I dunno, but I think he didn’t feel like he could call you after all that time, felt like he’d let you down.”

Sam glances over his shoulder, and they both watch Dean lean down to whisper conspiratorially with the blushing waitress as he hands her his credit card. Dean turns back to Kimber, winking, and her last little bit of heartache flakes off and fades away.

“Maybe don’t hold it against him too much?” Sam says, his best puppy-dog face in place. Kimber has never seen such an earnest expression from a guy asking on behalf of another man before.

“So, what do we have on the docket, Sam?” Dean asks as he rejoins them. Kimber throws her arms around his neck, ignoring the twinge twinge of pain on the side of her throat, and kisses him soundly. He looks startled but pleased as she pulls away, eyes wide and cheeks ruddy.

“What was that for? I’m just askin’ so I can do it again.”

She clears her throat against an unexpected lump. Behind Sam, the waitress at the register gives her a double thumbs up. “I was just jealous of the attention you were giving the wait staff. Figured you thought I wasn’t paying you enough attention.”

Sam coughs discreetly, his mouth twitching from the effort of smothering his smile. “I actually don’t have any cases for us. I was thinking about going back to the bunker and reorganizing some of those files I‘ve been going through. You know, I could really use your help, Dean. Our inventories could use some alphabetizing, and-”

“Hard pass,” Dean says, flashing his brother a quick, mirthless smile.

“If you’re looking for something to do,” Kimber offers, then hesitates when Dean turns his focus to her. “Well, I mean...fall break is next week. There’s a harvest festival in town; we have a crafts fair and a big farmers market and a lot of baking competitions. It’s pretty fun. If...if you wanted to stay a little while, Dean.”

...

In the end, Dean stays nearly two weeks. They go to every single day of the festival, during which time, they pick out a new quilt for her bed and Dean makes himself actually sick at the pie tasting event. When he does finally leave, it’s with a promise to visit soon, and their phone numbers saved in each of their cells.

“I will say, I’m not overly fond of watching this car drive off,” Kimber says, hugging herself through the inadequate material of her sweater. The weather has turned genuinely cold, and she wishes she’d grabbed something heavier, but she hadn’t planned on staying outside for so long.

For some reason, though, she just can’t let go of him long enough for him to get into the car.

Dean rubs his hands briskly up and down her arms, his eyes sad and fond as they roam over her face. Before she can stop him, he pulls off his jacket, draping it over her shoulders and kissing her forehead.

“You look damned cute in my jacket,” he says gruffly. “One more for the road?”

And if her lips are still swollen and throbbing when he puts the car into gear and pulls away from the curb, if his hair looks like he came straight from bed, neither of them minds in the least.

…

The end.

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regrettablewritings · 4 years

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How They Spend the Quarantine (Tadashi Hamada, Lucifer Morningstar, Dewey Finn, Wade Wilson, Harley Quinn, & Benoit Blanc)

Just a fun (?? is that even responsible to say?) little thing I’ve been thinking about while slogging through this neverending hellscape of an extended lockdown.

Tadashi Hamada

When San Fransokyo was ordered to go into a lockdown, there were mixed feelings.

At first, Tadashi had a hint of optimism that this would mean more time to work on his prospective projects . . . But then he quickly realized that his projects mostly required tools and space offered by the campus. He could technically make do at home, but it wouldn’t quite be the same considering the garage was considered Hiro’s space.

Somberly had to clean out his lab and take whatever he could home.

Cue the rest of the group (sans Fred and Hiro) griping that at least his style of science could travel well enough to be somewhat continued off of university grounds.

Helps do delivery for The Lucky Cat. It helps him get out the house, and it’s simply helpful altogether.

Uses Baymax frequently to make sure everyone down to Mochi is sanitized, and nobody’s running a fever.

Nearly as frequent a sanitizer as Aunt Cass.

He starts most days prepared to be productive, only to stop and poke fun at Hiro, who’s almost always got his eyes trained on a video game.

Tadashi realizes three hours later that he, too, has been playing the game as Player 2.

Learned how to make facial masks with Aunt Cass. He already knew how to sew a little but frankly, making the masks made him realize he could have a new hobby on his hands. He’s currently trying to figure out how to make Mochi a little vest . . .

Lucifer Morningstar

B o r e d. A s. F u c k.

At first, he thinks everyone being forced to go home would work in his favor -- surely some rule-breakers would sneak out and try to bunk up with the Devil, right?

Well . . . Kinda? Once Chloe found out and scolded him about it, the idea died real fast. Plus, he realized he wasn’t quite fond of the possibility of being around someone who could pop up with a disgusting human sickness at any point during their time with him. Smearing their snot all over, coughing into his Egyptian cotton sheets . . . Nope, never mind, he is perfectly content having the penthouse to himself, thank you very much!

Except he’s not.

The poor bastard is going crazy by himself -- he’s just not used to being without some kind of company!

“At least in Hell, you could tell there were people around you based on the screaming!” he’d whine at his phone during his hourly video chat with Chloe.

Oh yes: The video chats. He tries to make them hourly with anyone he can get a hold of (namely, his long-suffering detective) but this clearly never plays out as he would like for it to: If he had it his way, everyone would respond in an instant and let him bounce mainly one-sided conversations off of them -- basically, what he did before all this went down.

What usually winds up happening is he gets hung up on or nobody answers him at all out of sheer annoyance over his clinginess.

Ironically, he’s not exactly crazy about when Amenadiel initiates those “family calls”. He insists it’s healthy and normal for them to do this and even calls Luci out on the hypocrisy, but let’s face it: Lucifer finds it obnoxiously gushy and weird.

He works his way into Linda’s video appointment books to help him cope with his boredom and admitted need for interactions. She doesn’t mind offering him counsel, but once Lucifer starts attempting to butt in during others’ appointment calls, it becomes an issue.

Has, at some point, gotten buzzed down in Lux and streamed himself attempting to pole dance. It drew quite a bit of attention.

He’s managed to gain a bit of a following and some companionship by streaming himself playing piano and singing. It’s not the same thing as having an actual audience, in his opinion, but it will have to do for now.

He’s never been one to binge with regards to TV shows or movies, but after the first week, he decided to binge watch every work action star Wesley Cabot was ever in.

Makes sure his staff still gets paid well. After all, he’s pretty well-off; there’s no need to make an innocent bartender’s life a living hell just because some other rich bastard fucked up, yeah?

Going off this, should he need to order to-go or anything, we already know he tends to tip as handsomely as he looks.

Dewey Finn

Kids were being sent to Horace Green on tuitions worth more than what some people saw in half a year -- of course the school was going to continue classes online!

While technically an afterschool instructor, the program is popular enough for parents to expect it to continue, and for Dewey to be kept on payroll.

Initially, he was pretty smug: He’s one if, if not, the youngest teacher-figure at Horace Green, so surely that means he’s more tech savvy than his older, stiffer coworkers, right? For once, he’s ahead of the curve!

Wrong: Figuring out Zoom was a headache, and then there was the realization of just how dependent his classes were on actual physical presence.

Plus, let’s be real: Dewey’s Internet connection was decent on its own, but craptastic when compared to those of his wealthier students. The lag is strong with this one.

Has definitely accidentally messed up the background on his screen. Somehow wound up with the Beetlejuice background and got so frustrated, he wound up keeping it there for two whole sessions.

In spite of the slight issues regarding lag, they pull through and try to resume lessons as best they can.

Tries to keep optimism by pointing out how this is a new form of entertainment they could be pioneers in.

Some days, it’s just going so wack or everyone’s so bleh that Dewey just assigns for them to watch a music documentary or something.

“Okay, kids, Mr. Finn’s hungover and clearly Summer is the only one who went to bed before 3am. So what I’m gonna have you do is watch . . . Prrrbbbb . . . Amadeus.” “How is Amadeus rock-related?” “It had a rock single, shut up. Anyway, we meet back next class and talk about what we saw, m’kay? M’kay. Over and out.”

Next class, he’s filled with dread as Summer produces an in-depth analysis of the relationship or lack thereof between character and the presence of talent as evidenced by Mozart’s abilities juxtaposed with his immature presentation and -- Dewey just can’t keep up. Sure, Summer, why not?

When he’s not busy teaching, however, he’s using the lockdown to work on some new material. Or just screwing around.

Otherwise, let’s be real, Big Boy’s living the high life in a place of his own: Playing video games (Animal Crossing, recently got back into Team Fortress 2, is trying to finally finish Ocarina of Time); eating a not very great diet; staying up late, napping at weird times; all in the name of quarantine.

If he orders delivery or to-go, he tips the best he can.

Wade Wilson

On one hand, murking never goes on lockdown. But on the other . . . He’s already technically not well, why risk that even with his mutation?

Oh, fuck I just remembered he lives at the X Mansion, never mind turn back turn back oh god give us free --

The situation is tense to say the least. There’s Wade, who’s sensible enough to know why the quarantine is in place . . . and then there’s everyone else, who knows Wade’s full of shit.

And by everyone, I “coincidentally” mean Colossus, Nega Sonic, Yukio, Domino, Cable, and Russ because the already small world of the sequel just got smaller by the fact that everyone is bound to a large but nonetheless single estate whose size has probably decreased from that of the First Class timeline.

You know those videos of the usual Quarantine Characters? Wade is somehow yet still unsurprisingly all of them, save for the frequent sanitizer. He raids the pantry frequently, sleeps at all hours, considers scooting a swivel chair down the halls exercise for the thighs, blasts video games, and so on.

Going back to the sanitizer thing, it’s not that he’s just not exactly known for being tidy. Colossus occasionally does drag him out of bed at a decidedly decent time (read: any time before 11am) to try and get him excited about cleaning up around the mansion, but it rarely ends well. At this point, the safest option is to just remind Wade to wash his hands for 20 seconds as necessary.

Has acquired a Switch and visits everyone’s island, often to bonk them on the head with a net or gift them with weird crap they don’t necessarily want. For the “friends” from Sister Margaret’s, he has somehow acquired their Dodo Codes. Nobody knows how he did this.

Facetimes Dopinder frequently.

“Precious, you’re the beacon of light in this cold, cruel world.” “I miss you, too, DP --” “Sshshsh! I’m having a moment . . .” *weeps*

On the many occasions he orders delivery, he tips by giving the delivery person something expensive from the mansion that they can sell. Prof. X is loaded, after all. Plus, he more or less isn’t even present in this universe, it’s not like he’s gonna miss anything he can’t see/probably doesn’t even know exists in his house. The problem is, Colossus does exist and does notice and does care when things go missing. Leading to many a delivery person getting caught up in shenanigans at that weird school in the boonies that they either don’t get paid enough to deal with or couldn’t pay to make up.

“Oh, pawn shops are closed?” asks the man who looks like a skinned avocado if avocados had human skin. “Don’t worry, lemme hook you up -- I know some guys --” “DEADPOOOOOLLL!!” roars a Russian accent from inside the house. “WHERE IS THE BRONZE BUST OF THE PROFESSOR!?” The poor delivery person’s eyes widen as they realize that the odd cargo they’ve been presented with apparently holds some value of some kind. But before they can flee, the avocado man blurts, “Shit! Leave the pizza in the bushes, look me up on my Youtube page, byyyeeee!!”

In his defense, Wade does hold up his end of the deal. Much like the Dodo Codes, nobody knows what strings he pulled. They just accept it and move on.

Harley Quinn

Surprisingly compliant.

She’s crazy, not stupid: Staying at home may suck, but what sucks more is making things harder on people who may not fair so well. Besides, she’s spent time in a maximum security prison -- she can handle staying cooped up in her own home. At least home has TV, books, and snacks.

When she hears people are still going out without masks or plotting to have a protest, she strongly considers firing up the old Fun Gun and popping the next sign-carrying Karen she sees with a tit full of cadmium yellow powder.

Seriously, stay the fuck home and fuck up your own hair; this is the perfect time to make mistakes with your looks, it ain’t like you got anywhere to be or anyone to impress.

“STAY THE FUCK HOME, BITCH!” P O W!!! “JUST GO GREY ALREADY, WE ALL KNOW YOUR HAIR AIN’T THAT COLOR ANYMORE, YOU’RE THREE YEARS FROM BEING IN THE GODDAMN AGE-BRACKET!!!” P O W!!!!

Only leaves her new apartment to grab groceries and to take Bruce on a walk. She actually refuses to steal or cause a scene during this shitshow because she may be a bad guy, but she sure ain’t evil.

So far, there haven’t been complaints about the fact that she’s walking a hyena down a public street. Maybe it’s because there’s hardly anyone out? Maybe it’s because Gothamites just can’t be bothered to be fazed by it . . . Or maybe it’s because she made him a little mask for his snout.

“In this house, we wash our hands for at least 20 seconds, kid.”

Lets the forest reclaim the earth, so to speak. She was never really shaving anything for anyone but herself before, but now it just seems especially pointless.

Spends almost every day in a kigurumi. To give her a semblance of routine, she has a pink bear one she calls her “Sunday Suit.” She doesn’t know it’s not Sunday because the days just blur but Cass just doesn’t have the heart to tell her; she seemed so proud of herself . . .

Like everyone else, she’s gotten Animal Crossing. She’s trying to create an all-preppy island with a few exceptions (Astrid = Aesthetic, m’kay?)

Tips nicely when ordering delivery.

Benoit Blanc

As young and spry in nature as the gentleman sleuth would like to think of himself, he would really rather not test the dangers of the situation and go about all foolhardy -- he’s staying home!

In theory, it’s only logical and therefore perfectly fine. But in practice . . . God, he wishes he’d invested more in things to occupy himself with when home.

It wasn’t that Benoit was never home, he just never felt too much of a need to invest in a fancy entertainment center -- the fanciest he ever got was an iHome.

The beginning of the quarantine served as the perfect time for him to read over case files, catch up on paperwork, even catch up on some reading he’d been putting on hold since God knows when due to cases popping up left and right. But that dried up quicker than he’d assumed, and that’s when he was faced with what a man of his mind dreads the most: Boredom.

Finally caved and decided to hook up Amazon Fire.

Expected to use the one-month free trial on Netflix and be just fine but once the lockdown in his area got extended and he realized he wasn’t going to be able to catch up with Crazy Ex-Girlfriend at this rate, he caves even further and buys a subscription.

Fully delights at the influx of platforms uploading Broadway recordings; when The Show Must Go On put on Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dream Coat, followed by The Phantom of The Opera, it was a treat, I tell you!

Sanitizes often, despite hardly ever leaving his house besides to have a smoke or to go grab groceries. Honestly, it’s less about cleaning at this point so much as it is finding something to occupy his focus when he feels there’s nothing else to so.

Takes zinc after every meal to help lessen the intensity of any ailment that might hit him.

Definitely owns a facemask. There’s a good chance it’s from Marta or one of his relatives, and there’s another good chance the pattern is as flamboyant as his clothing. He’s delighted.

Benoit tries not to rely too much on delivery, as he’d much rather just cook. On the rare occasion where tipping comes up, however, he gives as generously as he can.

Bonus: There’s a slight chance he might have acquired a companion to foster early on in the quarantine. Benoit hadn’t had a pet since childhood, a crime of which he was admittedly melancholic of his own involvement. However, his surprisingly busy lifestyle just wouldn’t suit a four-legged friend, now could it?

Well, now there’s time to. Besides, it would certainly ease the potential feeling of loneliness to have someone or something with whom he could interact with.

Admittedly, when shelters began encouraging people to invest time in taking home a companion, he’d been looking more for a comrade on the canine side of the spectrum -- but darn, if Duke wasn’t a handsome cat.

A lovely grey-and-white cat with eyes that matched his own, Duke has become the one Benoit monologues to (because in all honesty, the man is a performer at heart, in need of an audience to speak his mind to and portray a thought before). Plus, he doesn’t appear to mind it when Benoit finds himself belting out in tone-deaf notes to showtunes while washing the dishes: The mark of a true companion.

At this rate, he’s probably not going to keep fostering Duke when things calm down -- he’s probably going to just straight up adopt him.

Stay safe & healthy!

#just a dumb little thing #anyway stay safe and healthy #regrettablewritings #tadashi hamada imagine #lucifer morningstar imagine #dewey finn imagine #wade wilson imagine #harley quinn imagine #tadashi hamada #lucifer morning star #dewey finn #benoit blanc imagine #benoit blanc

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quietrainfan · 4 years

Text

Unsymptober Day 6: Mind Control

Trigger Warnings: Unsympathetic Patton, Mind Control, Forced self harm, Blood, Knives, Dehumanization, Verbal/Emotional/Physical abuse, Gaslighting.

Note: Beginning is after Accepting Anxiety and end is after DWIT.

Once Virgil had formed an understanding with the Light Sides, he felt a weight lifted off his shoulders. Of course this didn't mean all of their feuds were resolved. There was still the issue of Janus and Remus needing Thomas to be aware of them and accepting them as facets of his personality. Not to mention the tense relationship between them and the Light Sides. Hopefully, though, this could lead to the Lights to open up to the idea of understanding Janus and Remus as well.

The anxious side opened the door that served as a barrier in the mind palace between the Darks and Lights. Virgil couldn't help the amused smirk that stretched across his lips as the spooky- most would call absolutely terrifying- sound echoed from inside the long pitch black hallway, confirming that the thing entering was another Dark Side. Janus had put a protective spell on their door that had been there- since forever, really- as a precaution in case the Lights tried to sneak in. It was strong enough that even Virgil had a difficult time getting in every once in a while. Thankfully, though, Janus could sense when it was him and can let him in at any time.

Virgil shut the door behind him, the usual yellow glow around the rimms flashed for a brief second before disappearing, leaving the anxious side in complete blackness. The lengthy hallway was freezing and there were always sounds of...something growing along the walls. Virgil was able to proceed without a care, though. Maybe it was because his purple irises that were made to help him see in the dark automatically switched on by instinct or that he was just used to the atmosphere of the Dark Side home. Probably both.

"Hey, hey! Look who's home! Say, Dee, ya think I should melt into the wall and try and spook 'im when he gets to the living room?!~"

"You do realize he can hear you, Remus. It wouldn't be much of a surprise. And no, I've already spoken to you about melting into the walls."

"Aw, you're no fun!"

Virgil rolled his eyes, the smirk never leaving his face at the familiar voices echoing in the distance. He finally made it to the aforementioned common room and waved at the two taller figures waiting for him.

"I'm home.", Virgil greeted, letting out an 'oof' as Remus wrapped an aggressive- but affectionate- arm around his shoulders.

"Hey there, tiny! Took ya long enough!", The creative side pulled him closer for a rough noogie, laughing as Virgil tried to break free to no avail.

"Augh, Remus! Let go!"

"How did it go today? I hope they didn't give you too much trouble.", Janus approached the two shorter sides with crossed arms.

His voice was even and calm but Virgil could tell Janus was on the defensive, for his sake, against the Lights. He always was when he returned. The things Virgil told him of his experience with them had his protective elder brother mode cranked up to a million.

Virgil snapped out of his annoyance towards Remus at the question, "Uh...yeah, about that. We need to talk."

"What did they do?", Remus had loosened his grip on Virgil a bit, his tone quickly went from playful to low and dangerous. Which prompted Virgil to explain before he did anything that would reverse all the progress they made.

"N-Nothing! Well- not nothing but….", The anxious side saw their eyes narrow and he cleared his throat, freeing himself from Remus's embrace, standing up straight and rubbing his neck nervously, "Uh, so- They kind of...accepted me? They came looking for me and we talked. Thomas is no longer resisting my spot at the discussion table."

Remus scoffed, "Yeah, right. After all that?"

"I was skeptical at first, too.", Virgil admitted, "But they really made a genuine effort to understand me."

The creative side wasn't buying it, turning to Janus. The deceitful side nodded, "From what I can tell he's being truthful, Remus. And I doubt he'd speak of it if he didn't feel like all of this was for certain."

Virgil was calmed by Janus's ever present rationality. But he knew this conversation wasn't over. "Although", He began again, "I am curious about what they said about the rest of us."

The anxious side bit his lip.

Janus's expression softened, "It's alright. Take your time."

Virgil sighed, "They-well, Roman, really- said that I was nothing...compared to you guys."

Remus chuckled bitterly, leaning against the wall, "Fucking typical. What'd I tell you?"

"I understand and trust me, share your anger, Remus. But they were not only willing to hear Virgil out but also came looking for him after he, to them at least, went missing.", Janus turned back to Virgil, "Remember that this is for Thomas's sake and working as a unit is far more efficient than doing it separately. Regardless of how...strained our family ties are."

Virgil responded with a smile which the taller side returned. He knew Janus would be understanding but it was still relieving to hear out loud. The deceitful side was known to be incredibly protective of all of them and unapologetic about his opinion towards the Lights. But thankfully that didn't mean he wasn't unwilling to make amends, provided they offered the same courtesy.

"So we're letting them in just like that?", Remus protested.

Janus laughed, "Absolutely not. I'm not going to let go of all the bitterness I feel simply because they were nice once to one of us. They have quite a ways to go to earn my trust and even longer to earn my respect.", He layed a gentle hand on Virgil's shoulder, "But what happened is worth noting."

Remus hummed, still skeptical of the whole thing, "We're going to still have to worm our own way in. Plus Thomas isn't even conscious of us yet."

Janus nodded, "Naturally. We can't just have our stormcloud being the middle-man for us forever.", A fond smile stretched on his face at Virgil's small grunt in response to his pet name.

"Eh, whatever.", Remus sighed, "You're the boss. If it means I can get my ideas heard, I don't really care how."

"Very good.", Janus clasped his hands together, "Now, it's been a long day. We'll discuss this further in the morning."

The three sides separated for the evening. Virgil distinctly remembered the following morning. They had started discussing ways to ease Thomas into accepting the parts of himself that he blocks out and working from there to get the others to follow suit. Virgil still had the memory of the last thing he said to them.

"I certainly hope any of these scenarios will work. Virgil, are you sure about this?"

"Yeah, no worries. Leave it to me. I just don't want you guys to have to hide anymore."

Leave it to me.

He had said. And he meant it. He would've followed through with his promise but he didn't anticipate the situation he managed to get himself into.

Virgil was speaking to Patton while they got together for a movie marathon. Everything happened so fast. He brought up the Dark Sides, their recent reconciliation, and the possibility of them being able to come to an understanding since he was accepted. Before he could read Patton's expression as his smile fell, Virgil...felt something change in him. The anxious side wasn't able to decipher what at the time but by the time he had, it was already too late.

"I don't think you should trust them, kiddo. Stay with us."

That was all he said. Virgil opened his mouth to try and defend the others, try to convince Patton that it was possible for everyone to get along. But the words died in his throat. What came out instead shocked the anxious side.

"You're right, Patton. I'm so glad to finally be away from them. Thanks for...embracing me and giving me a proper family.", Virgil had a hard time processing what he said. He hadn't meant a single word of it yet his tone, body language, and expression reflected his words perfectly.

"Your welcome, kiddo.", Patton smiled warmly at him.

"I didn't mean any of that. Patton, the others can be trusted, you guys just need to give them a chance."

"Honestly, I don't know why I stayed with them for so long. All they did was cause trouble and made me miserable.", A spiteful growl left Virgil's lips.

The anxious side thought he saw Patton's warm smile fade slightly.

"Maybe because you didn't have any other option.", Patton smiled sadly, "We didn't give you any. We had no idea how horrible you had it. But now we do and there's no need to worry anymore. We won't let them hurt you."

The moral side placed a comforting hand on his knee, "I promise."

"They've never hurt me! I was perfectly fine! I just wanted respect. And they deserve the same!"

"I'm….still afraid, Pat.", Virgil mentally swore. What the hell was going on?!

"I know. But I'll always be here. And so will Roman and Logan."

"Thanks. That makes me feel a little better.", Virgil finally returned his smile.

"No, you all are part of the problem. I'll never feel comfortable if I have to choose between two halves of my family!"

His true feelings were locked up nice and tight. Virgil learned very quickly that what he actually thought was met with consequences. Nasty ones. Patton pulled him aside after everyone had fallen asleep.

"I'm sure you've caught on by now, Virgil.", The moral side said simply, "Unfortunately, as I predicted, you aren't weak enough to convince completely. You still have some free will in there. You Dark Sides really are a pain."

He adjusted his glasses with a sigh but smiled brightly nonetheless, "But that's a-okay! I've got a little back up! If you're going to be our family Virgil, I'll have to set some rules first!", Patton handed him a small pocket knife, "Hurt yourself."

Virgil blinked at the request. Patton's sweet smile remained, "For every forbidden thought you have, you are to hurt yourself with varying severity."

The anxious side's blood went cold. Judging by his expression, Patton wasn't kidding. "Hmm, since you had three forbidden thoughts today, let's start off with three wounds. Do it.", He commanded.

Virgil's hand moved, despite him trying to fight back against the urge forced on him. He reached for his face, ready to cut just below his eye but the moral side caught his wrist, guiding it back down.

"Ah, ah, kiddo. Not on areas where others can see.", Patton purred, "We wouldn't raise suspicion now, would we?"

He guided the anxious side's hand down further. , "Here. Your stomach. I think there's a good start."

Patton released him, watching as Virgil lifted his shirt. "Under your belly button, Virge. Since you had the guts to bring them up in a positive light."

Virgil's teeth sank into his bottom lip as he penetrated his skin, dragging it along to the other side, hot blood already beginning to soak his lower half.

"Your chest now, kiddo. One under and one in the center."

Virgil complied, holding back a scream as the excruciating pain shot through him. Patton let it drag on, taking his sweet time in telling him to stop.

"Okey dokey!~ That's enough for now.", Patton clapped.

Virgil stopped on command. He made a mess, though it was nothing compared to the agony he felt. His blood was still gushing out of him, the sight, the pain, made him burst into quiet tears.

Patton's smile remained but he rolled his eyes, "Oh, hush. You're a Dark Side, you've had worse and those wounds will heal almost right away.", The moral side pat his cheek, "Now go clean up and head to bed. We have some filming to do tomorrow."

Patton began to walk away but stopped briefly, "Oh, and welcome to the family!"

With that, he left.

From then on Virgil was forced to treat the Dark Sides exactly how Patton did. He didn't know how long Patton had him under control but it was apparently it was long enough that Janus had decided to take things into his own hands and make an appearance. Virgil was so overwhelmed with joy, he had completely forgotten the situation he was trapped in.

"Dee! I'm so happy to see you!"

"Anyone who doesn't understand that should just shut up.", Virgil felt sick to his stomach. No, no!

The hurt on Janus's face filled him with so much guilt, "Virgil...it's me.", He said with an uncertain, broken voice, pointing to himself. , "Aren't we friends?"

"Of course we are! More than that, we're family!"

Virgil scoffed, "I'm not so sure we are."

Janus proceeded in his attempt to convince Thomas on his own and all Virgil could do was sit there, wishing he could scream that he didn't mean it.

Eventually, Janus being the clever snake he was, found his own way of having his voice heard. Virgil was happy, proud even but the guilt he felt was awful. If he had been there, this transition period would have been a lot smoother and they could've worked on it together.

Patton was having none of it. The more obvious it became that the Dark Sides were getting closer to their goal, the more he doubled down on Virgil behaving more and more cruel forcing him to take his side at every turn.

And every time Virgil wanted to shout that he was being controlled. That he didn't mean a word of it. He desperately wanted to embrace Janus and Remus and apologize for every nasty thing he was forced to say to them.

And every time he thought that way, Patton punished him. There was nothing he could do. He may be stuck like this forever, regardless if the others were accepted or not. Patton would find a way to use him to undo all their progress.

----

"Virgil really just abandoned us all and cozied up to ol' four eyes, huh?", Remus snarled with disgust.

Janus hummed with agreement, resting his chin on his conjoined fingers, "Yes, it seems so.", He turned to the shorter side, "You know why, right?"

Remus kicked the chair next to him, " 'Course. I ain't fucking stupid! But what are we going to do? Personally, I just want to charge in there and beat the shit out of him until he lets Virgil go. But I'm guessing you're looking for something more tactful."

Janus, "Leave it to me, Remus. We'll go with the original plan of getting the other's defenses down."

"And Virgil?"

"We'll set him free, rest assured. But as you said we can't just rush into this. There's also the subject of demasking Patton's true nature. We'll have to settle that first if we want a solution long term."

"It sounds like Virgil's going to have to hang in there for awhile.", Remus gripped his sleeve in frustration.

"Yes, with you watching over him."

Remus blinked, surprised.

Janus merely smirked, "I trust you can protect him as much as possible in the meantime. Just...try not to be too obvious. I don't want to put our stormcloud in any further danger."

Remus beamed, pounding his chest proudly, "Roger that, cap!"

"Good.", Janus turned away from his younger sibling with a frown, "It'll be a long road but eventually, he will pay."

The deceitful side looked down, rubbing his thumb along the old hoodie Virgil had left behind. "Stay strong, Virgil."

@unsympathetic-october-2020

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dickbaggins · 4 years

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hey hey the amazing @gollyderek tagged me to share some of a wip and since it’s technically now wednesday, let’s call it wip wednesday! I’m working on two things, my low/urban fantasy series (and I do mean low, it’s set in jersey city) and a very impulsive frank/billy/deadpool that I started last night that everyone’s already sick of! So here’s some garbage!

so my main project for nano is a fantasy series about a very traumatized incubus (who doesn’t know he’s an incubus and who happens to look exactly like ben barnes) working as a private investigator in a supernaturally-populated jersey city. he’s really awkward, and here, his new sidekicks, an angel and an immortal warrior who may or may not be diarmuid and the mute from pilgrimage, help him get ready for a date:

“How have you never been on a date?” Tim says at the apartment door, blustering in with Laz following behind him. “You’re like, the dreamiest thing in the whole city. The whole eastern seaboard. There should be a line out this door for dates with you. How do you even fill your time if you’re not dating?”

And he goes on and on, walking straight ahead to Gem’s bedroom, to the closet and the dresser.

Gem shoots a nervous look at Laz, who smiles with his mouth closed and pats Gem on the back. It’s comforting even if there’s no words, but Gem’s stomach is still flipping.

“I’ve had bad experiences,” is all Gem says, sitting down heavily on the edge of his bed while Tim combs through his closet.

“Do you even know the place he wants to meet you at? That place is expensive as hell. It has a michelin star!”

“I don’t know what that is.”

“Oh my god. Gemini. This might be a fake date but do not go into it thinking that.”

“What should I be thinking, then?”

“A companionable night with a new flame,” Tim rattles off with a bit of a lecherous grin. “Do you not have a suit? What forty year old man doesn’t have a suit?”

“Me, I guess. What would I need a suit for?”

“Men need suits, Gem,” Tim sighs, exasperated as he continues through the closet, setting out a few things still on hangers on top of the dresser. “Especially when they’re going to one of the most expensive restaurants in the city with one of the most eligible bachelors in the state!”

“Well...date’s not until tomorrow,” Gem points out, glancing from Laz in the doorway as ever, to Tim still pawing through his clothes. “That’s enough time for a suit, right?”

Tim turns around with his eyes narrowed, hands on his hips, puffing a sigh and shaking his head. “You’ve got a lot to learn about suits, Gemini Royle.”

and last night I started writing based on a slew of terrible deadpool fourth wall jokes about frank and billy and, well, I had a lot of fun writing it but I doubt it’s ever going to see the light of day after this post. Here’s all of it so far, because why the fuck not! It’s set in an alternate s2 where Frank saves Bill at the end and then has to figure out what the fuck to do with him.

It’s tense in here, in Frank’s shithole studio apartment. Seems too small for him to be standing here on his own, let alone with Billy Russo across from him. There’s absolutely nowhere to hide. And there's a lot of things Frank, for once, wants to hide from. Namely, the ruin of Billy’s face and the wan, pale tone of his skin, the sharp, watery glint of his eyes.

He’s almost died twice now, at Frank’s hands, and the only difference this time was Frank calling in favours. He still doesn’t know why he did it. So he can’t answer Billy’s sole question of why why why. He can just look. And wonder at his own foolish actions. Again.

They’re locked like that, staring at each other, wondering, waiting for who’s gonna be the first one up to incite violence. Judging from the flop sweat on Billy’s brow, it’s not likely to be him, this time. Frank doesn’t have any answers for him, doesn’t even have an impulse to finish the job. It’s gone beyond sad, at this point.

At this point, it’s just stupid.

There’s a tap on the window, rattling it in it’s delicate prewar frame and Frank’s stomach drops out.

Things are about to get even stupider, somehow.

The tap precedes the awkward scrabbling and the window opens to the cold city air rushing in for a few seconds until the lanky, red and black clad figure thumps inelegantly into the room, landing hard on his hip, immediately reaching up to slam the window back shut, one-handed.

This is just about the worst timing Frank can imagine. He winces, glancing at Billy but it’s too late; the other man’s already crossed the few steps towards the window, hauling the intruder up by his neck and pushing him up against the wall.

“Whoa, Frank, i didn’t know you had company, like, ever,” Wade Wilson starts, rapid-fire, his voice a little higher than usual for Billy’s long fingers squeezing at his neck. “Let alone a freaking Disney prince, holy hell. I mean, a very specific Disney prince, except it kinda looks like Aslan finally went rogue and did some damage. God, when will people learn? Wild animals cannot be tamed, even if they are Jesus or whatever.”

“Wilson, shut up,” Frank mutters, feeling a headache growing, slamming him like a dart right between the eyes.

“Friend of yours?” Billy hisses, his black eyes fixed wild on Wade Wilson, wide and dangerous.

“I could ask the same question,” Wade says, voice even tighter, his long body starting to slump a little, “But I'm starting to see all kindsa fun stars and black holes here, so I don’t think I’m gonna get it out. Hi, I’m Deadpool, I’m Frank’s new best friend and gosh, you’ve got big hands.”

Frank watches Billy’s hand tighten for a second before he finally lets go, and Wilson sinks to the floor with his legs outstretched.

“Frank?” Billy looks to him, eyebrows raised expectantly.

“Yeah, yeah, he’s fine. I know him.”

“He’s being modest,” Wade coughs, absently waving his hands around like they’re half-limp, half-useless, and Frank can never tell when he’s joking. “We’re embarking on a really juicy enemies-with-benefits-to-friends-with-benefits-to-lovers-with-guns arc. Fifteen chapters minimum, probably well over 500k words. Slow burn, I’m assuming, since we haven’t even kissed yet. Maybe tonight’s the night, huh, Frank?”

“I camped out on a rooftop with him once, a few months back,” Frank offers by way of easier to understand explanations. “Staking out the same warehouse. Wouldn’t shut up.”

“Is this...the red pajamas guy?” Billy starts slowly, squinting down at Wade.

“I don’t even wear pajamas to bed but oh my god, you’ve been talking about me? I’m blushing.”

“Yeah, from the papers,” Billy continues, “The devil of hell’s kitchen. Your buddy from a while back.”

“Ooooh, easy mistake. The main difference is the catholic repression. If you thought Frank was bad, you should see that guy! I bet those two had some real snoozer conversations, huh? Dithering over rosaries and the nuances of communion wafers. No, see, I’m Deadpool.”

“Right,” Billy huffs out of his nose, looking at Frank again. He looks lost; he looks, a little, like how Frank found him in that basement after Curtis called him, like things are moving too fast and even he can’t keep up. “Frankie? Everything cool?”

“Yeah, Bill. we’re good.”

“Bill! You’re that guy!” Wade says, scrambling to his feet, his boots squeaking on the floor. He rushes to tug his mask up out of his suit and off, presenting his mottled, scarred face with a big grin at Billy. “We’re like, face twins! Or we would be, if the producers had the balls to even try and make you look ugly. See, that’s a main facet of my personality, so they couldn’t skip over it with me. Same vibe, though!”

Frank’s seen it all, as far as injuries go; hell, he designed the lines and craters on Billy’s face with his own two hands, watched him gush blood over meat and bone. Maybe that was why, the first time Wilson took his mask off (with a warning of ‘hold on to your balls, baby’), Frank hadn’t done much more than survey the damage and nod once. He still can’t figure out if Wilson was offended or impressed, that night, although judging from the way he can’t shake the merc, he figures it’s the latter.

Billy has nearly the same reaction, a detached curiosity, a slight purse of his lips as he looks Wilson’s face over. “Didn’t think anyone could look worse than me.”

“Oh please, you’re still such a panty-drencher. And those big black eyes, gosh, I’m swooning,” Wilson says, clutching at his chest through his suit. “Oh, are you my romantic rival? For Frank’s affection? Cause I mean, from how he talks about you, it really sounds like there was some - “ he makes a circle with his thumb and the fingers of one hand, poking his other index finger through it multiple times, slow and then fast, and then there’s two fingers, and then three, and Frank’s just about to tell him to jump his ass back out the window when Billy actually laughs.

Frank hasn’t heard that noise in so long, not in any kind of genuine way, and there’s something about it that eases up the hard clutch of his chest, the ice in his guts. “Don’t encourage him,” Frank grumbles nonetheless, throwing himself into making coffee in the kitchen, the usual first activity he does when Wade’s just tumbled in through his window.

“I think I like this guy,” Billy says, and Frank hears the distinct muffled sound of Wilson clapping his gloved hands behind him.

“We should do a team-up! It’ll make the romantic tension even better, when Frank and I finally do start putting things in very tight places. Very tight, Frank. In case you’re wondering.”

“I’m not,” he shoots back over his shoulder, glad his back is turned for that particular phrase. It’s not like he’s been impervious to Wilson’s flirtations; it’s hard to be made of stone when he’s fawning after you, something so sweet and clingy in his affection.

“I guess we could do a whole-ass threeway relationship,” Wilson considers thoughtfully, and the thumping noise now is him sailing onto the loveseat; Frank’s been getting to know that one a little too well in recent weeks. “It’s been done before, more or less, by way better. And you’re supposed to be a bad guy, right? Frank saving you from the icy clutches of death really boned up your canon, huh? Someone’s blindly sentimental with a bullish villain boner and I don’t mean him. Come, sit, let’s chat.”

Wade’s the only person Frank’s ever met that talks as much as Bill, and having them on the same couch, let alone in the same room is something he’s never even considered. The chatter is nice though, in a way, filling up the space where there’s usually silence, where he’d been worried, actually, about this thing now, with Billy. Where he’s back to something like fighting fit and got nowhere else to go, so he’s crashing here before Curtis nuts up and calls the cops. Somehow, having Wade Wilson with the worst timing ever, has taken a good deal of pressure off the whole situation.

“And you’re both snipers! That’s really romantic. So much time in foxholes together, huh? All those long nights with nothing else to do but mutual handies and some high school style necking, gosh, it almost makes me nostalgic.”

Frank’s never heard Wilson talk about his own special forces record before, but he’s at least wrist-deep into it with Billy listening, perched on the arm of the couch. The apartment’s small enough that Frank can lean on the kitchen counter and still take part, although he doesn’t have much to add. He crosses his arms and waits for the water to boil, waits for either of them to run out of conversation but it’s not happening.

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vmheadquarters · 5 years

Text

We’re still playing our game of written hot potato! Dozens of your favorite authors are taking turns to tell a Veronica Mars mystery story. Each writer crafts their chapter and then “tosses” the story to the next person to continue the tale. No one knows what will happen, so expect the unexpected! Follow the “vmhq presents” and “murder we wrote” tags for all the installments, or read the story as it develops on AO3. — Chapter Ten of MURDER, WE WROTE is written by @loveobsessed2. And stayed tuned next week for Ch.11 from @pepandliv1 -tag, you’re it!

—————————————————————————————————— CHAPTER TEN by @loveobsessed2

“Mac? How long have you been here? Do you have internet access? What are you looking at? Are you involved in the mystery? Another fake victim? How and when did you get here? Oooh, can I have some of your chips?”

Mac immediately turned the bag in their direction and spoke a little louder than normal to be heard over Veronica’s crunching.

“Hey, Bond, slow down. I arrived the same way you did, just a day earlier. I didn’t know you were gonna be here, but once I saw your name on the final list, I was really hoping you’d find me. I have a few questions of my own, but you know I’ll tell you everything I know.”

Logan pulled the other two chairs back from the table and gestured for V to sit down. She offered him the bag of chips as she complied.

“Did you know Mac was here?”

“Nope, I’m just as surprised as you are.” His voice was light as he tossed a chip up in the air, expertly catching it in his teeth, and using his tongue to bring it fully into his mouth.

Veronica’s eyes were riveted on his mouth as she quipped, “Two happy surprises in one day. How did I get so lucky?

“I’ll show you lucky.” He waggled his eyebrows as she flushed.

“I can see that your reunion is going well.” Mac cleared her throat to regain their attention before finding herself in a very awkward situation. “When I first found out you were here, I was contemplating ways I could bring you two together from behind the scenes. Of course, that was before an actual dead body was discovered.”

“Smart thinking on staying hidden from the rest of the guests. We all know everyone is a suspect.” Logan tensed next to her, and Veronica reached out for his hand then hurried to add, “Present company excluded. And Wallace of course.”

“Of course," Mac agreed. "What do you want to know? You already met my roommate, Jen.”

“Jen is your roommate? What happened to Parker?” Veronica was noticeably confused.

“I’m so glad you listen when I talk, Veronica. I told you, Parker didn't come back this semester and is already partially into her sophomore year at a local college in Denver. Jen has been my roommate since October. I like her much better than the emo chick I was assigned at the start of the semester. Bonus points that when she throws a party I make money, instead of getting stuck chatting with random strangers who tease me about my name and offer me apples. I know I told you all about the murder mystery side gig I’ve been helping out with. How else did you think Wallace scored an invite?” Mac paused to let that settle in and allowed her expression to show her satisfaction that she knew something before Veronica. “You’re welcome by the way. I’m the one who suggested his invite specify a female plus-one.” Mac gestured to the happy couple. “Based on the two of you being attached at the hip since your arrival, I’m assuming my plan worked.”

Logan and Veronica shared a look and then smiled at Mac. It was all the proof she needed.

“So, what’s with Duncan and Norris and Leo? How do they all fit into the master plan?”

“I wasn’t in on any of that. Jen said Duncan and Norris were sent by Mistress X. She didn’t let on if she knew Duncan was--or still is-- a fugitive. I'm assuming the rest of the team is also in her employ. Jen is the only one I’ve had contact with. All I know about Leo is what I overheard from the guests over the security feed.”

“Security feed? You’ve been recording us? Like, with hidden cameras?!”

“Where? Why didn’t we see them?!”

“We always have cameras. And listening devices. It’s how we make sure the guests stay safe. And offer the less intelligent ones some extra clues. You wouldn’t believe how much people don’t notice.” The two girls shared a knowing look until Mac broke eye contact. “I’m just sorry I disabled the ones in your room once I heard Logan come in.”

“Dang it! I thought we finally had a way to figure out who pushed you.” Logan rejoined the conversation.

“I can’t believe there are hidden cameras and I didn’t even think to look for them. Someone has been distracting me recently.” Veronica shot Logan a pointed look. “Let’s not even get into the fact that that same someone could be voted ‘least likely to see a hidden camera.’”

“Well ex-cu-use me for thinking there were more important things to focus on. Like maybe making sure no one else died?” Logan’s sarcastic and condescending retort did nothing but further raise Veronica’s hackles.

“You guys…” Mac’s voice doesn’t even register with them.

Veronica didn’t attempt to soften her words as she spat out, “Are you implying I wasn’t? Being the most observant person in the room isn’t easy. Especially when I’m surrounded by a bunch of rich pampered idiots. Let’s not forget their king - the only guy I know who could live somewhere for most of his life and fail to notice that his favorite hang-out contained not one, but two hidden cameras.”

Giving up any pretense she’s not hanging on their every word, Mac propped her feet on the table, and started munching on red vines.

“Oh yes, Sugarpuss, you are the queen of detecting, and we all bow before your greatness.” Logan demonstrated with a flourish of his hand. “You certainly would never have failed to notice a hidden camera.”

“Low blow, Logan, low blow. I’m sorry I was distracted the first time by the revelation that my best friend was being taken advantage of by a psychopath. And how many times do I have to tell you? That. Was. Not. A. Sex. Tape.” She enunciated every word before accusing. “You saw the video, you should know!”

“I didn’t watch the whole thing, but it sure looked like a sex tape to me.”

“What? Did you expect me to play the part of the ever-jealous ex-girlfriend? After Madison?”

“Let’s set the record straight. What happened with Madison is definitely not what you imagined.”

Veronica’s defensive shell began to slip and her voice cracked. “Sure.”

His gaze was vulnerable and sincere as he caught her eyes. “Hey, Veronica,” he soothed, scooting his chair closer and wrapping an arm around her shoulder. “I know, we need to talk about all of this, but let’s dial it back a little.”

“OK,” Veronica whispered, as she buried her face in his side and relaxed into his embrace. “I didn’t realize how fresh it still was.”

“Me neither.” He stroked her hair and planted a kiss on her crown. “I know there’s a lot we need to work through. I am so sorry for hurting you.”

Veronica reached out and gently cradled his face in her hands. “Oh, Logan, I only dated Piz because I couldn’t stand to be alone while you seemed to have moved on so spectacularly without me. I should have tried harder. There’s always hope when it comes to us. There has to be.” She offered him a tentative smile and continued. “I know we’ve messed up a lot in the past, but I really do want to figure this out with you. I’m sick of being without you. A bad day with you is better than a great day with anyone else.”

Logan reached down to cup her face and the hope that shone in his eyes was almost blinding. “No more running?” he whispered.

“No more running,” she assured just before his lips met hers. She wrapped her arms firmly around him in an effort to prove that she was never letting him go again. His strong arms pulled her tight against him, and they got lost in each other as their bodies apologized and soothed in ways that words never could.

The sound of Mac once again clearing her throat jolted them out of their fugue state, and laughter bubbled out of their chests.

"Ok guys, I’m glad you’re finally hashing out some of your issues but there are a little bit more pressing matters at hand. We need to make some kind of plan while we’re still alone.” She paused long enough for them to nod their agreement. “This whole situation is a little out of control. All the mystery actors are staying in the servant’s quarters. I’ll keep an eye on them and report any suspicious activity. You two are with the rest of the guests, so I’m sure you’ve got that side of things covered. I’m bummed I didn’t buy the new Thuraya SatSleeve phone converter case before this trip. If I ever needed a satellite phone it's now.” Mac showed her frustration by smacking her forehead with her palm. “My laptop was connected to the internet before the storm hit. It was a spotty and slow connection, but it was better than the non-connection I have now. Has Wallace had any luck with the phones?"

"No, both landlines have cut cords, so that was a dead end." The slow shake of Logan’s head emphasized his words.

"Right, but surely you’re smart enough to realize your remote-control plane building BFF knows how to splice together a cut cord…" Mac raised an eyebrow in question. “I guess you were already on your way in here when he brought up looking for a tool kit to attempt some diagnostics and repairs.”

"Further proof that every Bond needs a Q." Veronica quipped, with no evidence of her previous vulnerability.

"Truer words were never spoken.” Mac met her friend’s eyes with a grin. “We really need to establish a connection to the outside world. Right now, my phone is as good as a paperweight. I can’t believe none of these spoiled 09ers has a satellite phone. Money is wasted on the rich."

“I take offense to that!” Logan interjected. “I’ve never been in a position to need a satellite phone until pretty much right now. I should’ve known better than to believe Dick when he told me all of our needs would be taken care of, and all we had to do is show up. He claimed he had the perfect vacation for us over winter break and it would give me the distraction I needed." His eyes shifted to Veronica and then away again nervously.

Veronica chose not to dig into what sounded like a painful topic for Logan and addressed Mac instead. "Mac, if you saw what was going on, why didn’t you leave me some kind of clue, so I could find you sooner?"

Mac shrugged. "The doors are rigged and only open from the inside at certain times. I was getting everything ready for when you did find me. I knew it wouldn’t take long. I was just getting re-connected to the internet before the chandelier went crashing to the ground. Maybe it took out some wires? I tried to log onto Prying Eyez to get some info on Leo and Duncan, but I don’t have your new password.”

“Yeah, Dad kicked me off his server after the whole lost election evidence tampering fiasco. Here’s my new login and password. Once you get back online, will you hack into Vinnie’s files and find out what Leo was working on recently and if that’s what brought him here? Him being here the same weekend we were all brought together is too big of a coincidence to even pretend they’re not connected.”

Veronica reached into her bag and pulled out the damaged page of Leo’s notes.

Holding it out for Mac to see, she said, “Once you get back online will you get me the rest of this case file? Even when we can get off this island, I’m gonna need to find out what happened to Leo. Why was he here? Why did he leave the sheriff's office and start working for Vinnie? Was he working both jobs at the same time? Was he undercover somehow? Is his death related to this case?"

“Why do you care so much about a guy you claim to only have dated briefly?” Logan teased.

“He was a pretty decent guy, and he was a great source of info.” Veronica defended.

“Yeah, decent guys always rob the cradle. Were you even legal?” Logan asked.

“That was years ago, and I ended that once you and I started kissing. He’s the only guy I ever cheated on. Maybe I feel a little bit of lingering guilt. The least I can do is solve his murder. I used him just like I’ve used everyone else. I’m sorry for the times I’ve gotten so wrapped up in solving a case that I didn’t stop to take your needs or feelings into consideration. You too, Mac. You know you mean more to me than that, right?”

Mac gave her friend a reassuring smile right before Logan chimed in. “Speaking of people who mean something to us, it looks like your BFF is pretty smooth with the ladies.” Logan gestured to Mac’s screen, and the trio gathered around to watch Wallace with his high-school crush.

“Teaching a girl how to do something without mansplaining really is a great seduction tool.” Veronica playfully bumped Logan aside with her hip, and they settled in to watch Wallace and Alexis in the kitchen. The telephone and an assortment of objects were spread out on the counter in front of them.

Wallace turned to her and said, “There was a pretty extensive collection of items in the junk drawer but surprisingly no wire snips or pliers. I’ll just have to make do with a knife and this roll of electrical tape.”

He picked up one end of the severed cord and held it so Alexis could see what he was doing. She paid close attention as Wallace showed her how to remove the white outer coating to reveal the four colored wires underneath. He then stripped each individual wire of its insulation, being careful to cut just the rubber coating without damaging the actual wire. They clearly seemed to be enjoying their time together, even though it was spent performing such a mundane task. Alexis was a quick study and picked up the other end of the cord while holding out her hand for the knife. Her movements weren’t as practiced as his, but her nimble fingers mimicked his movements until her wires were just as ready as his. Their eyes met, and his smile was full of approval. He then demonstrated how to align the two cords of matching color and twist their exposed ends together to ensure a strong connection, before wrapping each wire in electrical tape; this took the place of the previously removed rubber insulation, before sealing them together with a new piece of tape. They shared a smile of mutual accomplishment before plugging the cord back into the phone. The keypad lit up when the receiver was lifted. “No dial tone. The phones must be out. We’ll keep checking. They’ve gotta come back at some point. We should check the box in the basement, but that should probably wait until morning,” Wallace said, as he pulled Alexis into his arms.

The trio turned their attention from the screen to give the new couple some privacy. Veronica sighed and suggested they go their separate ways, but not before inquiring about Mac’s supply of snacks. Mac handed Veronica the key to the pantry, and promised to dig up a map of the grounds, as well as blueprints for the main house and any other structures on the island.

#veronica mars #veronica mars fanfic #vm fanfic #vmhq presents #murder we wrote #round robin

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royallyjoon · 5 years

Text

detention

a percy jackson k-12 au

all credit of the song and film goes to melanie martinez and her producers✨🖤💛

Nico opened the doors to Mr. Geryon’s class, calmly walking in despite the multitude of accusing stares. No, he was not late, nor was he trying to draw attention to himself. They simply felt as though his very existence was disturbing to their presence.

He’d dyed his uniform sleeve bands and the “K-12” on his chest black, and spent most of his days in black jeans and boots. The silver skull ring and earrings he wore probably didn’t help either, but he finally felt comfortable in his attire.

His friends embraced his style, and the teachers didn’t care, so why not?

He took his seat in the front next to a blonde boy doodling something in his notebook. As he placed his bag by his feet, Nico felt the boy’s eyes on him.

Ah...will he be like everyone else? He thought to himself.

He saw how curious the boy was, glancing over at everyone whispering and pointing at Nico.

“I’m not a bad guy,” Nico smiled. “so don’t treat me bad. What’s your name?”

“I’m Will Solace,” the boy blushed as he introduced himself.

“Nice to meet you; my name is Nico di Angelo.” He replied.

The two shook hands.

“I’ve never seen you in this class before,” Nico stated.

“Oh, that’s because I transferred from Mrs. Dodd’s class,” Will replied. “I felt like she wasn’t really interested in teaching for the sake of teaching, but more so for the pay and the principal. I wish I could teach myself the material, but I found it really difficult, so I wanted to see if Mr. Geryon was any better.”

Nico nodded in understanding. “Unfortunately, Mr. Geryon cares even less about us than Mrs. Dodds...”

He hesitated on saying the next part, but he recalled what Percy said to him a few weeks prior.

If you don’t try, you’ll never know.

“I-” Will was turning his head to look at his notebook when Nico blurted. He whipped his head back around.

“I...if you want, I could try and help tutor you...my friends say my grades are pretty decent.” Nico murmured in embarrassment.

Will broke out into a grin. “Really? I would appreciate that so much, thank you-”

“Are you sure you want that freak to tutor you, handsome?” Some random girl called out from the back. Nico had forgotten that the minute he stepped into this room, he lost all sense of respect from his classmates.

“Yeah, he’ll probably take you to his dorm room and sacrifice you to his father,” another boy snickered.

Nico turned red and turned away from Will, lowering his head to his desk. The girl in the back bounced up to Will as if she had done nothing wrong as the teacher walked into the classroom.

“I could tutor you,” the same girl from before drawled, drawing a line on Will’s chest from his collarbones to his naval. “Trust me, I get better grades without even trying.”

“A false testament, Ms. Terry.” Mr. Geryon slammed his briefcase onto the teacher’s desk. “You had the lowest score on the last test out of everyone in your grade. So if you would please take your seat so that I can teach my lesson and be done with you all. The sooner, the better.”

Terry, or whoever she was, walked back to her seat rightfully mortified.

“I’d like to take you up on your offer,” Will whispered back. “How about tomorrow after school in the library? I can wait for you by the nonfiction section.”

Nico smiled. “Sure. We’ll start from the beginning.”

They turned around before Mr. Geryon singled them out for talking. The whole class, Will could barely focus on the lesson.

For one thing, he had an undeniably cute guy sitting next to him. For another, he had no idea what was going on in terms of material. He spent most of the time drawing tiny sketches of Nico, hiding his notebook from the other boy.

When the bell rung, Will packed all his pens away and threw his pencil case in his bag. But when he looked up, Nico had already disappeared.

——————————————————————————

Will walked through the hallway, telling a classmate about his crush.

“Jake, you don’t understand! He’s so cute!” Will gushed.

Jake laughed. “Don’t shoot those heart eyes at me, man. Who is he?”

“His name is Nico.” Will replied.

Jake paused. “Nico?” He asked incredulously. “Nico di Angelo?!”

“Yup.” Will said, popping the “p”. “Why do you say it like that?”

Jake grabbed Will’s arm and dragged him to a corner of the hall, looking from side to side to check that no one was listening. “Dude, he’s one of those freaks. He hangs out with Percy Jackson and Grover Underwood. They have weird, special abilities. I heard their eyes glow in the dark or some shit like that.”

Will’s eyes widened. “Where on earth did you hear that?”

“From Malcolm...he’s in Percy’s class and he saw him fight Drew Tanaka over Jason Grace. He literally lifted her in the air and then threw her back down.”

“They call him the ghost king. Nico hangs with a dangerous crowd, man. I’d be extra careful if I were you.”

The bell rang and Jake ran from Will waving him goodbye. The blonde lifted his hand halfheartedly, mind still reeling from the information.

Special abilities? Like...

——————————————————————————

Will traipsed across the campus greens, mulling over what Jake told him. “He seemed more than normal to me,” he muttered to himself.

He walked past the principal’s grave and came across his favorite grove of trees. He often came to this part of campus because it was closer to the lake and the quietest space available around this time. WIll spent at least an hour or two here, doodling nature.

Today, however, as he happened upon his space he found none other than Nico di Angelo sitting cross-legged on one of the granite benches in the grove. He appeared as though he were meditating. His eyes were closed and he held his palms over his knees and sat with his back straight.

Will ducked behind a nearby tree before Nico could hear his footsteps. He set his backpack and sketchbook on the ground gently, peering at his classmate.

Nico opened his eyes. He stared out into the open air, nodding his head at something in the distance.

“Maybe he’s listening to music?” Will thought but when he glanced at his ears there were no headphones present.

Nico’s mouth moved as he gazed into the empty space seriously. He seemed as though he was actually talking to someone.

Will stared at him some more. He breathed in deeply and concentrated, allowing his blue eyes to glow brighter and brighter.

“Woah,” he said softly in amazement.

Nico was shrouded in a cloud of darkness, but the gloom was not clinging to him in a way that was suffocating. No, it was the exact opposite. The cloud stood assuredly around him, accentuating his every move. At the top of Nico’s head lay a crown made of bones and jewels. The sparkling gems contrasted with the dull osseous matter wonderfully, standing out in the black mess that was Nico’s hair.

When Will looked into what was empty space before, he choked down a gasp.

Standing across from Nico were a number of spirits, all but one kneeling in his presence. The one standing is who Nico was currently having a conversation with.

Jake was right, Will thought in his momentary panic.

The ghost said something to Nico. He smiled at the air before tensing. His head whipped in Will’s direction just as the other pressed himself flat against the tree.

He stuffed his sketchbook into his bookbag, crawled through a space in the underbrush and ran off to the library.

Nico got off the granite bench, thanking the spirits before dismissing them. He approached the tree where he swore he saw someone just moments before. During further inspection, he couldn’t find anything and turned to go to class when a flash of white caught his eye.

It looked like a torn piece of paper, caught between the leaves of the underbrush. Nico gently untangled the branches and retrieved the paper.

The drawing held what looked like half of a flower, with the initials “W.S.” in script at the bottom of the page.

Nico smirked and folded the paper, tucking it into his pocket for tomorrow.

————————————————————————

The next day after classes, Will tentatively opened the door to the library.

Their sleepaway school’s library was quite large and homey. It contained red leather, plush seats resting by an unlit fireplace. The wooden tables and chairs adorned the bookcases, filled with old, religious books as well as more recent YA fiction.

Will spied Nico sitting at a table near the back of the library by a fireplace. It was adorned with fairy lights, a favored section for bookworms to cuddle up and get lost. There were bean bags on the floor, but Nico felt that it would be more appropriate to sit at a table for a study session.

“Hey,” Will whispered his greeting, cheeks immediately beginning to flush as he thought back to yesterday.

“Hey, how’s your day so far?” Nico replied. He had a black mechanical pencil behind his ear and the front of his hair tied back in a skull hair clip.

Will physically fought the urge to melt.

“It was okay, just filled with the normal mindless chatter from people around me.” He said as he sat. “How is yours?”

“Great, now that you’re here.” Nico grinned.

Will scoffed and pulled his books out his books. “Alright, Professor di Angelo. Don’t start flirting with your student now.”

Nico chuckled lowly. How does he get his voice that deep, Will panicked as he got out a pencil.

The two quietly chatted in their corner. Will thought the library would have been busier, but it seemed as though every time someone headed towards them, they would drift away with a misty look in their eyes.

He found that Nico was a pretty great teacher, and with the sharing of notes the two quickly caught up to that week’s material.

“I understand! Wow, I had no idea Professor Geryon’s material could actually make sense.” He gushed. “Thanks so much for tutoring me.”

Nico smiled, thankful his efforts proved successful. “Ah, it was nothing. We could stay study buddies, if you’d like...?”

“Like? I’d love.” Will replied.

Nico took in a deep breath. “I hope you won’t change your answer...”

Will’s brows furrowed in confusion before he saw Nico pull out a tiny slip of paper and handed it to him. His expression balked at the sight of his own signature.

“A hyacinthus, correct?” Nico said.

Will nodded wordlessly.

They sat in awkward silence as Nico heavily examined the table. “So...you saw me?” He asked.

“And you saw me...” Will confirmed.

Some more quiet.

“It’s a beautiful drawing-“

“I didn’t mean to disturb-“

The two blurted out sentences at the same time.

“No, sorry, you can go first.” Nico said.

“I usually draw in that grove because I find it inspirational and quiet...I didn’t mean to spy on you.”

Nico stared down at the table unmoving. “Did you see everything?” He whispered.

Will nodded.

Nico junped up from the table, stuffing books into his bag.

“Wait, where are you going-“

“I have to go.” Nico blurted. “I have a friend thing to go to-“

“Mr. Solace and Mr. di Angelo.” A low hissing voice appeared before the two.

The apparent shield that had been around them dissolved, and other students looked on as Mrs. Dodds approached the two, whispering and pointing.

“Oh my God, look at them.”

“Who would willingly hang out with that freak?”

Mrs. Dodds nodded at Nico, something like respect in her eyes. “I understand that the two of you are catching up on school material but there is no need to make such a ruckus. Two days’ detention, Mr. Solace.”

Will spluttered in indignation. “Mrs. Dodds-“

“It’s not his fault, Mrs. Dodds. I was the one trying to leave in such a hurry.” Nico muttered, staring at the floor. He tightened his grip on his bag strap.

“Then you can join him, Mr. di Angelo.”

Nico looked up, engaging in a glaring contest with the homeroom teacher. She eventually won out. Nico rolled his eyes and left the library.

Will sat alone at the library table, more confused than ever.

—————————————————————————

“So you jumped up and left?” Percy asked Nico, munching on a blue brownie.

When he’d heard his friend needed emotional support, the boy rushed over with brownies and ice cream. Nico sat on his half of the room, decorated with black, purple, and gold.

His roommate hadn’t returned from sports practice but promised to attend the comfort session as soon as possible.

“I didn’t know what to do,” he said miserably. “He probably saw me talking to air, looking like an idiot. I couldn’t handle the rejection...so I left. Like an even bigger idiot.”

Percy mused quietly, wiping his hands on a napkin. The door to the room opened and Jason Grace stepped in, sweaty from practice.

He smiled at Percy and dropped his equipment on the floor next to his bed before draping himself over Nico. “Ah, the woes of teenage love.”

Nico groaned. “You reek, go take a shower.”

Jason grinned and winked. “You love it and you know it.”

Percy scoffed. “We really don’t. Hit the showers, Grace.”

The three made an unlikely group of friends but each knew that if they were having trouble with anything they could go to the other two for help.

Once Jason was showered, they laid on the floor with a Disney movie playing in the background.

“Now Mrs. Dodds gave us detention for tomorrow and Saturday.” The smaller raven grumbled.

“It’s not like you guys are going to be the only ones there.” Jason said, scarfing down all of Percy’s brownies. “Mrs. Dodds loves handing out detention slips like an old man handing out Hershey bars.”

“She won’t give anyone a chance to talk to each other, either. Keep your head down until you’re ready to talk to him, and just nap or do homework or something.” Percy added.

Nico nodded, more prepared to face the next two days with his friends’ advice.

—————————————————————————

It turned out that both Percy and Jason were wrong.

Mrs. Dodds had managed to not give detention to anyone else. Not only that, She placed Nico and Will directly next to each other, took their phones, and the proceeded to leave the room to “make a call” (read: eat her after school snack).

Nico shifted uncomfortably. He avoided Will’s gaze at all costs and focused on trying to finish the homework Mr. Geryon had assigned.

That is, until a piece of paper slid onto his desk.

When he glanced at Will, the blonde had his head buried in his sketchbook.

He unfolded the slip of paper.

It was a letter with a sketch of a chibi Will with closed teary eyes and prayer hands and an amazingly descriptive drawing of two blue eyes at the bottom.

They were bright. Almost impossibly bright, in a way Nico didn’t think could be reflected on paper.

The letter read:

Dear Nico,

I’m sorry if I upset you by watching you. I found you meditating and at peace, and honestly I was going to draw you. But then I saw you smile and start talking to the air. But it wasn’t the air, was it?

It’s okay. I don’t know who was there, but I can tell that it was probably someone important. It was pretty cool to see your crown in midair, to be honest.

I don’t find you weird or repulsive or any of the other insults that other kids keep throwing your way. They don’t know you, and they have no right to judge you just because of your abilities. From what I can tell, you’re a great person to be around.

So, if you would still like to accept the offer, I would love to still be your student, and maybe more in terms of friends, and someday maybe more than that?

Sincerely,

Will

P.S. You’re an awesome Ghost King.

——————————————————————————

Will sat with his heart pounding. Every second Nico spent reading the letter threw him deeper into the dark, twisting hole that was his anxiety.

Soon he heard snorting, then giggling.

It was the cutest sound Will had ever heard.

“So you...were like me...this whole time?” Nico said between laughs.

Will nodded. “I was curious...I normally don’t pull the eyes out in public but I felt that there was something special about you.”

Nico smiled. “I’ll take you up on your offer, Solace. You can keep being my student, and I’d be happy to be friends...and more.”

Will pumped his fists in the air in victory. “Yes!”

He faltered as Nico took his left hand. The raven pushed a ring onto Will’s finger, sterling silver and decorated with tiny purple and blue gems.

It was still warm from Nico’s hand.

He pulled Will’s hand towards his lips, softly kissing the back. “To us,” he said.

Will blushed furiously. “To us.” He returned.

#percy jackson #solangelo #k 12 au #melanie martinez #pjo au #k 12 film #nico di angelo #jason grace #will solace

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nobodyfamousposts · 6 years

Note

Future!Adrien pays a visit to his past: Adrien wakes up to an insistent tapping on his cheek (accompanied by a low hiss of his name by Plagg) and the feeling like he was being watched. It's with that unsettling feeling that he cracks open in a squint to give a quick scan of his room and can only squeak in surprise at a pair of narrowed green eyes staring at him from his couch. He did not look happy. "You, what did you /do/?" "I, what?" Adrien scrambled to sit up, "I didn't do anything!"

So I think you were wanting angst.

I was wanting spite.

Instead, I got creepy.

Have some creepy.

FUTURE TENSE BAD END

“You. What did you do?”

“I—what?” Adrien scrambled to sit up. “I didn’t do anything!”

“Clearly you did, or I wouldn’t be here.” The stranger responded, looking more disgruntled than anything.

“Who are you?” Adrien demanded. “How did you get in my house?!”

“He’s you.” Plagg explained. “From the future.”

“Wait—what?” He turned back to the older male and couldn’t help but gape. Blond hair. Green eyes. And—oh god, what caused scars like those? They littered his arms, but the one he couldn’t tear his eyes away from was the one scar that went from his jaw to down his neck, to even beyond the vest the man was wearing.

Ignoring Adrien’s clear confusion and growing horror, Plagg then turned on the so-called ‘Future Adrien’, looking altogether unimpressed. “You’d better have a good reason for being here or Tikki is going to kill me.”

The ‘Future Adrien’ only smirked back. “Pretty sure that’s never stopped you before.”

The cat kwami bristled at that.

“Don’t be that way with your chosen, Plagg.”

“You’re not mine.” He hissed back.

“What’s going on?” Present and horribly confused Adrien demanded.

Since Adrien met Plagg, for all the time he had known the little cat god, he had never heard Plagg make anything close to the angry hiss he was making now at his other self.

He looked up at his future self, wary. “You’re me, right?”

“We’re both disappointed about that, I assure you.”

Adrien flinched but chose to let the insult go because this was not the time. Not if a future version of himself was standing right in front of him with injuries he hadn’t gotten yet and eyes full of misery he’d hopefully never have to face.

“What happened?”

Why are you here?

Why are you like this?

How did I turn into you?

“I can’t believe how clueless you are.”

That line came out of nowhere and Adrien blinked in surprise. “What?”

“Did you know how close she’s been all this time? How much she’s done for you? How she adores you?” His eyes narrowed into a dark glare. “How you’ve hurt her?”

Anger rose at that and Adrien couldn’t stop himself from arguing. “But I haven’t hurt her—”

“Yet?” The other interrupted with a sinister grin. “Is that what you were going to say?” His future self asked sardonically as he leaned forward, feral and imposing in a way that made Adrien shift back despite the several feet of distance already between them.

“I…I—”

“You’ve already hurt her. Through your selfishness as Chat and your ignorance as Adrien, you’ve hurt her plenty, and yet she still loves you.”

“Kid…” Plagg whispered. It sounded like a warning, though it wasn’t certain to whom.

“She’s been right behind you.” The older one continued. “Supporting you. Encouraging you. Doing everything just to make you happy.”

He sneered, downright hatefully in a way Adrien never knew he was capable of.

“And you never even noticed when you had the chance.”

His eyes widened in shock.

“What?”

“By the time you finally bothered to look, she was already gone.”

No.

No, that couldn’t be. Not Ladybug. Not his Lady.

“Ladybug dies?” He asked, almost whimpering.

Older Adrien flinched, his hands closing into shaking fists.

“Yes.” He finally answered.

Adrien felt everything inside him freeze at that.

Plagg looked back and forth between the two, uncertain. “Kid—”

“But how?”

How did it happen? How did he fail? He had always been beside her, protecting her, taking the blows so she would always be able to come through. So what went wrong?

The question made his future self glare at him in pure loathing.

“Because you make every wrong choice possible. Don’t call out the liar. Don’t protect your friends. Don’t question your father. Don’t listen to her. Don’t support her when she needs it. Don’t FUCKING TURN AROUND AND SEE HER!”

His final shout echoed throughout the room. Adrien felt his heart pounding.

There was a moment of silence. Adrien felt his heart pounding, both from the man’s words and from the fear that someone would have heard him and may come to investigate. He glanced to the door, fearful and just waiting to have to give out some excuse. But a minute passed with no disturbance. No knocking at his door or question as to his wellbeing.

Honestly, he shouldn’t be surprised at the negligence.

For once, he was actually grateful.

He turned his focus back to his future self. A version of him he never wanted to become.

It seemed that the man had been able to take the time to calm, appearing less tense. Less shaking. Less uncertain.

More determined.

That’s right, Adrien realized. He was here for a reason.

If anything happened to Ladybug, Adrien knew without a doubt he would be willing to do anything to stop it, even if it meant turning back time. It only made sense that any future version of himself would do the same.

“So what happens?”

“What?” His future asked, appearing surprised at the question.

“That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? To prevent it from happening?”

A pause.

“Yes.”

Adrien smiled at that. This was not what he wanted to wake up to, but this was a chance to save his Lady and stop something horrible from happening. And if there was even a chance, he was going to take it.

“Then tell me what happens. Then maybe we can come up with a plan to protect Ladybug.”

His future self smiled in return.

“No.”

Adrien blinked in surprise. “No?”

“I’m not here to tell you the future. I’m here to fix it.”

“Fix it?”

“Kid, RUN!” Plagg shouted, realizing the plan.

Too late.

One hand sent Plagg flying into a wall.

The other hand shot out and grabbed Adrien by the throat.

“If this is my second chance, like I’m really going to go and let you screw everything up again.”

Adrien choked, unable to speak. Desperately trying to draw in air. Eyes closed as he tried to fight the hold but was ultimately futile.

“Don’t worry.” Came the whisper. “This will be quick.”

He felt he hand on his chest.

In his chest?

Under his skin.

Through his body.

And spreading within him, filling him with billions of tiny bits and specks of a burning energy he couldn’t even start to describe. It was like he was being eaten from the inside by the particles invading his body in a manner so reminiscent of his Cataclysm.

Is this what it would be like for it to be used on someone?

Weak from lack of air and yet full of a raw growing pain slowly engulfing him, he forced his eyes open to see that whatever was entering him seemed to be taking from his other self. With each moment, there seemed to be less of his future self, like the man was fading out of existence.

Or maybe into it.

Is he—?

The older Adrien smiled.

“Let me in.”

It wasn’t a kind smile.

It was dark.

Obsessive.

Possessive.

Terrifying.

It wasn’t anything like any of the smiles Adrien had ever worn.

Yet it matched the one growing on his own face against his will as the sensation spread to his lips.

His eyes.

His heart.

His mind.

And suddenly—

Everything made perfect sense.

“Hey, guys. Does Adrien seem a little…off to you?”

“You mean besides the way he’s been checking you out?”

“Alya, I’m serious!”

“What? You should be happy! The boy may be finally getting a clue.”

“Why now though?”

“Why not now?”

“But don’t you think he’s been acting a bit strange lately?”

“It’s understandable. I mean, a lot has happened recently. What with his dad’s heart attack. That just came out of nowhere.”

“Guess that’s what stress does to you. Especially the stress of running a fashion empire.”

“Isn’t he still in the hospital?”

“Yeah! Then there was Lila’s accident. Poor thing. I heard her family has to learn sign language now due to the damage to her throat.”

“And I heard now that Chloe’s mom is insistent on taking her to New York due to ‘all the stress’. Not that that last one is so bad, but still, that’s a lot on Adrien right now. Anyone would have a hard time handling it.”

“It’s like he just can’t catch a break.”

“Yeah, talk about bad luck.”

…

“…Bad luck?”

“Marinette? You in there?”

“C’mon girl. That just means it’s important for you to be there for him now more than ever.“

“I don’t know. There’s just something weird about it all.”

“Don’t worry, Marinette. You’re probably just imaging things.”

#miraculous ladybug ficlet #adrien agreste #time travel #plagg #tales of ladybug and cat noir #miraculous ladybug #marinette dupain cheng #ladybug #chat noir #plot bunny #for the plot bunny anon #future tense #she's not just imagining things #this wasn't supposed to be creepy #why did it have to get creepy?

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avatar-of-the-green · 5 years

Text

Swamp Thing 1x06/1x07 Thoughts

My goodness, the last two episodes have definitely been something else. Other posters have already offered their excellent perspectives, I just have so many thoughts that I needed to express. As such, this is very long because brevity is not my strong suit. As always, cutting due to spoilers for the current episode and possible future episodes.

Matt:

I love how this show explores its characters. One of my previous complaints was that Matt had very little depth beyond being a seemingly-nice police officer with a torch for Abby. But with the last two episodes, we were given a deeper look into his actions and frustrations and I thoroughly enjoyed it. Him being the one to kill Alec disappointed me-mostly because I didn’t want him to be a “bad” guy-but the reasoning for him doing so was at least understandable. Not excusable, of course, but basically continuing the appalling cycle of corruption that was started by his mother and Avery.

When it comes to the people we love, for some people, what’s “right” takes a backseat. I have no doubt that the only way Avery was able to force Matt’s hand was due to his blackmail material, in a direct contrast to him pulling Lucilia’s strings without much effort. Him being willing to murder Avery in episode seven basically showed how unwilling he was to remain someone for Avery to manipulate, but even that was completely turned on its head when Avery dropped the paternity bomb.

I wasn’t really shocked about Avery being his father, it was something that I had wondered about as we never really received any information pertaining to Lucilia’s husband and given her rather messy behavior, it certainly made sense. But poor Matt, I feel that the next episodes are going to have him spiraling really badly.

He “killed” an innocent person who later came back as a plant monster that might decide some revenge is in order once his memory returns. The man who manipulated him and his mother is actually his father…whom he also helped to murder. His whole identity is now in question, his relationship with his mother is in shambles and one of the people he cares about just up and left just like he was told she would.

I hope that we have more scenes with him and Liz. Marais has felt very tiny in the most recent episodes and it’s nice to another friendship depicted.

Lucilia:

Oh, Lucilia. I’d feel badly for her if most of the disasters in her life weren’t due to her own bad decisions. The fact that she never expected Avery to have blackmail fodder going back for years was unrealistic to me until I gave it a bit more thought. She isn’t a good person and neither is Avery, but she somehow assumed that his feelings for her made her immune to his perpetual need to control and manipulate everyone in his life.

It reminded me a lot of a scene from the end of Kill Bill: Volume 2 between Bill and Beatrix when she mentions how shocked she was at what he did. She was well aware of-and even comfortable with-the terrible things he was capable of, but the possibility that he would do any of those terrible things to her never entered her mind. Lucilia was exactly the same and it seems like an incredibly naive mindset until you consider how some people are.

She did awful things for Avery for money while deluding herself that it was to protect Matt. I’d bet that if Matt had expressed interest in transferring to other locations prior to episode six, she probably guilt tripped him about leaving her and all she did for him until he dropped it. Her keeping his paternity to herself may have been about “protecting” him from Avery’s influence, but it was also about keeping him to herself-as is sole influence-as well. It’s not that she doesn’t love her son, but she’s so possessive of him to an unhealthy level. I wasn’t all of the nefarious things she did for Avery that pushed her to kill him, but the fact that he involved Matt in a murder and completely shattered his perception of her as his mother. And as Avery said, she doesn’t forgive or forget.

Maria:

She was definitely one of the highlights of episode seven for me. Seeing her in control and getting things done was wonderful and while I’m assuming helping with the Avery murder plot is going to come back to bite her, I’m glad that she was able to deal with Lucilia despite their obvious issues in order to achieve her goals.

While I still believe “Shawna” is inside her somewhere, I’d also like to think the experience in the swamp and finally receiving medication might have snapped her out of her fog of despair. There is nothing wrong with receiving help when you need it and while Maria is terrible to Abby, I genuinely believe she would feel badly about possibly putting Susie in danger with her shenanigans.

Thankfully Avery won’t be around for a little while with his patented “Abby is stirring up all these bad feelings,” gaslighting speeches.

Avery:

He is really going all out to win the title as the most monstrous person in the series. The scene with him and Abby in episode six made me so tense and uncomfortable because it was such classic emotionally abusive behavior. How dare she accuse him of things he (most likely) did! She had nothing before him, she owes him! As though he isn’t a murderous scumbag. As though he doesn’t talk out both sides of his mouth playing on Maria’s grief and Abby’s affections.

It’s mostly my headcanon, but I think he was probably closer to Abby than Shawna growing up, as they had the deaths of their parents to bond over. Shawna was born into money and Abby wasn’t, so anything he did for her she was immensely appreciative of. She was also probably so afraid of being abandoned that she did everything possible to be the “good” daughter, in contrast to Shawna’s more rebellious personality.

She loved and respected Avery until Shawna’s death, which is probably when his mask briefly slipped and she saw the rotten person he truly was. But because she was just a teenager, she rationalized it as being the effects of Shawna’s death and all her fault. But after returning to Marais, Abby is able to see more and more of the despicable person Avery truly is and that infuriated him. He has nothing to hold over her aside from Shawna’s death, nothing to control her with and while I’d like to think he wouldn’t hurt her…his behavior towards Lucilia in the swamp-a woman’s he’s been with for thirty odd years-shows that doesn’t really value anyone.

Everyone is disposable in his eyes.

I wonder what led him to become such an atrocious person. We constantly hear about the “swamp taking his father,” but the flashback we were shown doesn’t really depict a sadistic child that would become a villain. It could simply be the typical story of a man desperate to rise about his station became consumed by his greed and corrupted by his ambitions, but I hope there is a little more to it than that.

I’m both curious and afraid of what’s going to happen next with him. I enjoyed how his rise from the swamp was a mirror of Alec’s, but with more violence. If he is an Avatar of the Rot, it’s going to make things very interesting in the remaining episodes.

Woodrue:

I’ll just state the obvious that what he did to Cassidy was beyond unethical and potentially remarkably insipid. Alec faked scientific results, and he’s a scientist by loose definition in his eyes, yet he engages in unsanctioned human testing and that’s completely acceptable. Avery really does poison all the people he touches, though his own ambition and his desire to help Caroline probably would have led him down the same road.

I loved that Caroline called him out on his behavior and just how amoral his actions were and how her quick thinking kept Cassidy from being shot. It was painful to witness the change in her towards the end of this episode and sadly I’m sure her situation is only going to get worse. Either Woodrue will inject her with the formula to prevent her Alzheimers from progressing or he’ll inject himself as another test subject and things will fall apart from there.

Abby:

As I stated in one of my notes, I love her but her lack of self-preservation is crazy. She has this incredible need to fix situations and yet makes choices that are incredibly impetuous and could make them worse. I truly wish that we knew more of her background, but one could assume her mother dying and then Shawna dying both contributed to her unhealthy fixation with trying to save everyone and control the situation. She couldn’t help her mother, she caused Shawna to die-but in actuality was just unable to save her from an unseen force-and now she has Alec to focus on and feels as though she’s failing him as well.

With some people, I would say it’s based on a desire for praise or to be a martyr, but with her I think it’s just an effect of having so many unresolved issues and so much guilt. As though saving as many people possible will somehow help her “atone” for those she couldn’t. She wants to save Alec because she cares about him, but also because the situation he’s in could be incredibly dangerous. Two hunters came for him, the next time it could be a team to capture him for study or dissection.

It’s thoughtful of her, but then she has this remarkable reckless streak that almost got her killed several times. Lucilia could have shot her, she could have died from the darkness, she could have died from the Rot. She was incredibly lucky in the first instance and fortunate that Alec was present in the last two. While the end of episode seven was heartbreaking, it was completely reasonable for Alec to tell her to leave. While her intentions have been good, her behavior has been irrational and eventually her luck will run out.

I’m curious as to whether or not the show is involving Abby’s New 52 origin and if the tendril from the Rot will awaken something within her. We’ve already seen (the person I assume) is Anton Arcane, so it might not be such a far stretch.

Abby’s scenes with Alec were just so perfect and it made me so happy as a shipper. All of the touches and her kissing him were lovely. But her crying as she drove away from him in her boat broke my heart. Hopefully her time in Atlanta will give her some time to reflect on things. And with luck we’ll see Harlan again and find out what-if any-consequences have arisen due to her absence.

Alec:

Although I’m almost one hundred percent certain that they’re going with Alan Moore’s interpretation of Swamp Thing, I’ll still refer to him as Alec for now.

Episode six was a particularly painful one for him, as he got to experience the joys of being trapped, shot and hunted like an animal. His anger was justified and while his response was a bit much-I winced at the bark spikes to the face-he doesn’t quite have full control or knowledge of his capabilities yet. He was also completely aware of the danger that people poking around the swamp would pose for him. He is a scientific find of the century and there would be no shortage of people wanting a piece of him. There was also the Matt aspect later in the episode as well. What he did to him was inexcusable, but I really hope Alec doesn’t kill him in recompense.

The near-end of the episode was lovely and definitely understandable. It’s frightening, but sometimes you need to move away from the person you were in order to grow and gain a better comprehension of yourself.

Then the last scene occurred and I may have freaked out a tiny bit.

It was wonderful having Andy Bean back as Alec Holland for episode seven. I love the way that Derek Mears portrays Swamp Thing, he’s so incredible emotive despite the costume and the makeup, but I also love how Andy Bean portrays Alec as well. They have distinct personalities, Alec being affable and charming, while Swamp Thing is more solemn and otherworldly-for obvious reasons. Having Human!Alec back was bittersweet and it was nice that they were able to find a plot-relevant reason to do so. I still really hope we get some more flashbacks to his life prior to Marais, but that may sadly be just a pipe dream.

This episode was definitely a turning point for Alec and his growing acceptance for his role as Avatar of the Green. As wonderful as it was to be the “charming man” he used to be, without his abilities, Abby would have died. Technically, he should have stopped her from getting too close to the Rot, but that might have broken the immersion of the hallucination. But the scene before they encountered the Rot was so beautiful and I’m glad the lighting wasn’t terrible for once. While parts of his new life are undoubtedly strange and a bit traumatizing, it was good to see Alec extolling the wonderous aspects as well.

The way the Green is portrayed is also interesting. We’ve seen the darker aspects with it lashing out in the first episode and it briefly forcing Alec to see those who perished in episode five, but it consciously trying to help him connect with Abby and to save her life was wonderful as well. It was also teaching him something of a lesson. If he even could go back to being human, he would be unable to do anything against the Rot or help anyone except in the traditional sense. Perhaps Abby is able to synthesize a formula to combat the Rot, but then it would have to be tested, approved, mass produced, distributed and analyzed.

Which would be remarkably useful, but would take valuable time that they don’t have. What Abby viewed as him giving up hope was more him coming to terms with his destiny and what that entails. Him asking Abby to leave was so painful to watch, but with something so powerful and ancient intent upon destroying everything, allowing her to remain in harm’s way would have been selfish on his part.

But all the longing looks and the touches throughout the episode nearly killed me. As Swamp Thing he’s been so reluctant to be close to Abby unless it was necessary and the fact that she kissed him-while seeing his human form-may have inadvertently made things a little worse. He can’t be that person again, despite Abby’s belief that he can be cured and despite his talk of accepting his destiny, he doesn’t view a relationship with her as a part of that.

He’s referred to himself as a “monster” and a “thing.” Despite the beauty in his existence and the knowledge of having a special purpose, he still is obviously bothered by his “transformation.” While Abby mentions a cure as something that will help him, which she undoubtedly believes, he probably interprets it as her being bothered by “what” he is and feels insecure about it. In terms of a future, he also can’t offer her much in way of traditional things. Which begs the question of Abby wanting a more normal relationship and him feeling as though she would be settling.

It’s such a delightful tangle of emotions that we’ll have only three episodes to figure out.

#swamp thing spoilers #swamp thing #abby arcane #alec holland #alec x abby #avery sunderland #maria sunderland #matthew cable #lucilia cable #liz tremayne #jason woodrue #caroline woodrue #dctv #dc #episode thoughts #1x06 #1x07

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dawnofdead · 5 years

Text

Some Spiderman Far From Home Shit that I got to get off My chest!

Spoiler warning if you haven’t seen it yet, this pertains to the mid credit scene.

First, the actual end credit scene....

So, after MJ and Peter go swinging through Queens a news broadcast comes on with “shocking” and “disturbing” footage of Mysterio, a.k.a. Quentin Beck’s, last moments before he dies.

In it, Beck tells the camera that Spider-man attacked him for no reason, that he ordered the drone strike, and that he Spider-man said only he can be the new Iron Man. Then, it cuts to a shot of Spider-man “ordering” the drone strike. (At a terribly convenient angle by the way)

It cuts to J.J. Jameson (Performed by J.K. Simmons because he is the one and only actor anyone will accept as JJJ) ranting about Spider-man and calling Mysterio the worlds greatest hero. (As if the world hasn’t recently lost quite a few well known and beloved heroes recently.)

He ends it with revealing who Spider-man is, ousting Peter Parker as Spidey.

Then we get Peter going WTF, honestly, a reaction my whole theater had.

Here’s my thing, does Beck (and yes, present tense, because I’ll believe the illusive Mysterio actually died when I see the autopsy, and even then, I’ll still have my suspicions) think that, you know, the rest of the Avengers don’t exist?

Like, MCU Spidey isn’t without support.

And if we see Spidey being hated on by everyone and him having no support, I’m honestly throwing hands, because you’re telling me, that Pepper, a woman who not only probably already knows about Quentin Beck’s bad blood with Tony, the head of Stark Industries, Wife of Tony Stark, woman who saw this child cry over her husbands body, friend and family to Happy, a man who’s constantly keeping tabs and communicating with the kid, business woman from hell, also now the owner and operate (for however short her use of it was) of the rescue armor. You’re telling me, that, that Pepper is going to sit back and let this all just... happen?

That the remaining Avengers, no matter how short of amount of time they spent with him, are just going to let their comrade just take that hit?

You’re telling me that Pepper doesn’t have access to those drone’s footage and can’t reveal the real interaction?

Bull.

And again, I don’t think that the general populace will believe it either. Government officials against free roaming superheroes and those who blindly trust the government and media? Maybe. Those who have even a lick of sense? No way in hell.

First of all, the news reporter said that the anonymous video was originally uploaded on the controversial website, The Daily Bugle.Net

Oh yeah, we’re definitely going to trust that source.

Second of all, it has all the tale tell signs of a fake video. The angle, cutting off the person of interest that the video is trying to demote, loud sound effects, no actual evidence of the person committing whatever wrong doing the video was meant to reveal them for.

Not only that but like... Mysterio’s whole illusion of him fighting an elemental, and the elemental causing damage, fell apart! In public! I’m sure, even if civilians found a safe place to hide in, someone saw that, some idiot is trying to capture footage of a fight involving the newest “superhero”

People saw that shit fall apart. So, like, duh?

It’s just, even if people are like, yeah, Peter Parker is Spider-man, or they like, research Mysterio’s personality and realize that not only is he from here, but also had beef with Tony, and are like, no, this guy is after a kid who has some connection to Tony Stark after the guy died (I’m assuming it wouldn’t be hard for people to figure out that Peter was a Stark intern, even if it was a cover), I think that the public won’t be as against Spider-man as they have been in previous iterations.

In short, Beck,

That being said, the mistrust of the media and possibly government/blindly trusting citizens, may lead to the rise of more Vigilante type heroes in the MCU, because even though the Avengers where labeled vigilantes, no one really acted like that till the Rouge Avengers, and even then, they were more in hiding.

Anyways, I just wanted to get that off my chest. Maybe later I’ll talk about the End Credit scene, but I really wanted to just get my thoughts on this whole thing out there.

🖖

#spider-man far from home #spider-man far from home spoilers #mcu #they really got me #oh you must be joking #spiderman #tom holland #end credit scene #well really the mid credit scene #but yall know what i mean #ffs #give Peter a break 2019 #kid is only 16 #lets recap on what he's been through in the past three years #oh yeah #feel bad yet?#my poor baby

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tysonrunningfox · 6 years

Text

Ripped: Part 10

This chapter is...so much, again, I...hope I didn’t mess a lot of things up but also I’m so excited for this to be out there

Ao3

Detective Eretson’s office isn’t roomy, but it looks bigger for the absolute lack of decoration. Snotlout has been complaining about him for a year, but there’s nothing on the walls except for a very official looking medal that Hiccup doesn’t recognize and the bookcase holds only a cardboard box neatly folded and marked “miscellaneous”. Hiccup can see Snotlout’s nametag on his desk out through the small vertical window, which is crosshatched with wire, the age old answer to bulletproof that actually makes it weaker.

Hiccup’s dad’s office had glass like that. They took it out after he died and replaced it with modern tempered glass, like there was no longer anything inside worth the falsely protecting.

Eretson brings Hiccup a cup of coffee from the breakroom, stale and obviously made that morning, but he accepts it anyway, taking the smallest sip he can while Eretson sits down and logs into his computer. The silence and clicking matches Hiccup’s speeding heartbeat and he clears his throat, fidgeting in the cold plastic chair. Something about the detective’s presence reminds him of his dad getting home after he’d done something wrong but it hadn’t been discovered yet. He learned young that confessing was easier than not, but his dad’s disappointment was heavier to carry than his own guilt.

“What? No bad cop routine this time?” He laughs, the sound echoing off of the undecorated walls, unwelcome.

“That was tired cop,” Eretson pushes his keyboard away and turns fully to Hiccup, eyebrows knit together in a heavy frown.

“What’s this then?”

“I’m good at my job, Mr. Haddock.” There’s swagger there but it’s buoyant, balancing. “And I’m good at reading people.”

“I’m guessing I say ‘won’t try to escape’?” Hiccup rubs one of his wrists and Eretson doesn’t flinch.

“This precinct lets you get away with a lot because of your father,” a jab that hurts worse than when Snotlout says it, “but not murder.” He flips through some photos from the crime scene and Hiccup swallows hard, trying to focus on anything but that flash of metal leg and regretting it. “People who do this don’t look at pictures of it like that.”

“I bet that’s true,” Hiccup remembers the guy who’d invited him over to see his collection.

“It is,” Eretson turns the photos over, “but that doesn’t explain why you keep finding the bodies.”

“So you think the cases are related?” It’s the only thing Hiccup has been able to think about for the last two hours. Or that’s not fair, it’s the only thing he’s been able to focus on.

He thought about his tour, and how it felt like the worst ever but he’s scared it’ll be his best reviewed. He thought about Astrid, one second blushing with her chin held high and the next pale and terrified, her shaky hand telling him to pull his foot out of his mouth and turn around. He thought about Dave and wondered if it hurt.

But he focused on all the reasons the murders can’t be related. Or all the reason, singular, and it doesn’t feel very reliable right now, sitting across the station from his dad’s old office, being lectured by strong, broad shoulders and an unshakeable scowl.

Lightning doesn’t strike twice until someone puts up a lightning pole.

“Your alibies check out. I talked to Gobber and he affirmed how you knew of the first victim. And I confirmed the tape—“

“What tape?” Hiccup can’t think of anywhere legal he’s been that would be taped and obtained by the cops.

“Right,” Eretson clears his throat and turns back to his computer, clicking again before turning the screen around. “This tape was recorded—“

“The back of the condos,” Hiccup nods to himself, watching grainy black and white footage of Astrid jumping and his arm curling her protectively into his chest. It’s a joke even here, she obviously doesn’t need his protection, but God he wanted to give it to her earlier as she shook, trying not to look into the alley and being unable to look anywhere else.

The memory twists his stomach, caught up in everything else. It was torture to see her scared after seeing her so passionate, defiant, happy. Embarrassed was his favorite, he liked it enough that he pulled off feigning confidence, even though the thought of her kissing him for revenge after trying to save his tour practically made him lightheaded.

Cameras. Astrid texted him that she’d talked to the police about cameras, this must have been why. He wonders what she thought when she saw it.

“This is approximately time of death, given the coroner’s statement and Miss Hofferson confirmed that you walked her home.”

“I did.”

“When does your first Viggo Grimborn tour begin?” He says Grimborn like an American idiom he finds deeply inferior and Hiccup wants to ask where he’s from, but the little Snotlout on his shoulder flicks him on the ear and reminds him not to yap without a lawyer present. He’s not sure when Snotlout got promoted to be both angel and devil, but now’s not the time to dwell on that.

“Seven or seven thirty, depending on the weather, and I try and get there half an hour before to let people know they’re in the right place.”

“Miss Hofferson says I can confirm with her coworker that you were at her job from five to six, approximately.”

“Sounds about right,” Hiccup wills his face not to move but Eretson’s eyes flash anyway, deadly like a predator that isn’t used to starving.

“So, the night of Jennifer Franklin’s murder, you’re attesting to the fact that you made it from 324 Harbor road to the alley behind the Ripped Tavern in less than half an hour, but you’re now claiming that being at the Berk Archives until six is enough evidence to say that you couldn’t have been killing this man at approximately six thirty, according to the coroner?”

Eretson isn’t flip-flopping or changing his mind, he’s trying to steer his investigational sailboat with a strong lean and Hiccup’s lower back throbs.

His doctor doesn’t like him walking eight miles a day on cobblestones and his hips agree. His back is usually willing to compromise but the last week avoiding shortcuts at Snotlout’s request has done a number on its resolve.

“I’ve been staying out of the alleys,” Hiccup realizes all at once that there’s no way to know that Dave was wearing his old spare leg and the angelic-devil Snotlout on his shoulder applauds him for keeping the secret, “Snotlout—Officer Jorgenson, I mean, said it wasn’t a good idea after the first murder.”

“He did?”

“He’s not particularly confident in my ability to take care of myself,” Hiccup flexes an arm and laughs, the self-depricating sound less welcome in the office than the awkward one. “Ask him yourself.”

“You can’t tell me about it?” There’s frustration there but not disbelief.

“I uh…don’t talk much.” He clears his throat, “I’m shy around authority figures, you know how it is, I’m sure.”

“That’s the first lie you’ve told,” Eretson stands up and opens the door to his office, “don’t—“

“Don’t leave town, I’ve got it.” Hiccup walks out into the lobby, freezing when he recognizes a man in a crisp grey uniform talking to a man in a suit that makes Eretson stop short.

“Detective Eretson, I’ve heard that you’ve met Mr. Grisly—“

“I have,” Eretson answers stiffly, holding out a tense hand at the end of a flexed arm.

“My pleasure,” the man in gray shakes it, everything about him mocking and superior for no externally discernible reason. His accent is Bond villain and he raises a charcoal eyebrow at Hiccup. “It’s good to see you again, Hiccup, it’s been too long.”

“Has it?” Hiccup never thought he’d feel like he was backed against the same wall as detective Eretson by the same force, “I thought you didn’t enjoy your private tour.”

“Enjoyment isn’t necessary for an experience to be…influential.” He laughs, “you didn’t get my joke, by the way.”

“Joke?”

“It hasn’t been a long time at all, I caught you with your hands full the other night.” He’s having as much fun as Hiccup isn’t currently and as much as Eretson has never had.

“With unsanctioned cameras,” Eretson crosses his arms, respectfully glaring at the man in the suit. “I’m close, Sir—“

“The approval just went through this morning, we can’t have the media buzz right now Eretson, I’m calling in all the help we can get.”

“Then talk to another precinct, don’t bring in a civilian organization—”

“Other precincts don’t have anyone to spare,” Eretson’s boss is conclusive, leaving no room to wedge an argument in before he continues, “and Mr. Grisly’s help has the additional benefit of being free, so you’ll take the information he gives you.”

“I’m sure it’s unbiased,” Hiccup mutters under his breath and Eretson scoffs, their momentary agreement lingering as Eretson’s boss walks away.

“I look forward to working together,” Mr. Grisly’s smile is predatory too, but starving. A lion under a gladiator arena starved to amp up its ferocity, but something about the gleam in his eye makes Hiccup think he bolted the lock himself. “This case so far is of particular interest to me.”

Everything impulsive in Hiccup’s body wants to say ‘Grimborn’ but his stomach twists against it, the ghost of a gag keeping the words in his throat. If it’s Grimborn, that means at least two more murders and he doesn’t even want to think about it, especially given his recent luck in stumbling across them.

“Great, more hobby detectives,” Eretson gripes, dismissing Hiccup with a look at the front door and yet another reminder not to leave town. Hiccup wishes that was more of an issue, but he wasn’t exactly planning a lavish vacation before a second murder shut down his tours.

00000

The shelter is busier than usual, and Gobber lets Hiccup eat if he works, so he finds plenty to keep himself occupied through the next week. Plus, people at the shelter are scared, getting there earlier, every day with new complaints about the Neighborhood Watch Force flaunting badges they’ve been told mean something now. Snotlout is furious but for once, as helpless as Eretson, even though the phenomenon doesn’t seem to be forcing any kind of bond. If anything, Snotlout is angrier, but that could just be the fact that he’s stuck on traffic duty during an important investigation.

Home is quiet though, and Hiccup is restless. As much as his back appreciates the break, he doesn’t need the extra time to think. He could research, given his renewed access and enthusiasm about the archives, but he can’t think about Grimborn without thinking ahead like a meteorologist tracking Hurricane Death. That and as much as he’d like to hang out with Astrid, he’s not sure she feels the same and if she doesn’t, he doesn’t know if he can blame her.

She’s been texting him, mostly pictures from the Berk Enquirer. She found some article from the summer of eighteen eighty-five suggesting an earthquake was actually caused by a dragon fighting ring in a giant arena under the bay and asked for his thoughts on the topic. He said it seemed plausible, given that no one actually knows what’s under the earth as it hurtles through space like a Frisbee and she sent back a string of angry emojis that made him laugh, but flat earth jokes aren’t necessarily communication.

“Oh my God, dude, what are you wearing?” He barely gets two steps in the door after helping Gobber check people into the shelter on Friday night before Snotlout’s outfit accosts him from across the living room. “Or should I say what aren’t you wearing?” Hiccup pulls down the collar of his tee-shirt to mimic the deep V of Snotlout’s shirt.

“What?”

“You left the part of your shirt that covers your lack of tan in your closet, you might want to check on that before you blind someone.”

“Very funny,” Snotlout grabs his jacket, “I’m going to go get a beer, want to come?”

“Even I know I shouldn’t spend my last five dollars on beer.”

“If you want me to cover you, just ask, don’t be so cryptic all the time,” he chides as he rolls his eyes, waving Hiccup along behind him.

“I wasn’t asking you to cover me.” Hiccup clarifies on the way downstairs and Snotlout shrugs.

“Whatever, dude, keep telling yourself that.” He looks both ways before continuing, voice low, “they still don’t know it’s your fake leg, by the way, have you heard anything from Eretson?”

“Nope, apparently I learned how to shut up at a really convenient time, I just needed some pressure.”

“Well keep the pressure on, I doubt your closed mouth is permanent, and they’re no closer to solving this, even with Mr. Creepy skulking around the station.” Snotlout shudders, “the guy isn’t even helpful, he just looms over everyone’s shoulders. He caught me online shopping the other day and he just watched.”

“It’s a good thing I’m sure you were shopping for totally work appropriate stuff, as you always do,” Hiccup raises an eyebrow and Snotlout glares at him.

“Shut up, Hiccup.”

Gruff’s is busy but not packed yet, and they’re lucky enough to get a booth along the wall. Snotlout sends Hiccup to the bar to get drinks and Gruffnut jokes about his growth spurt instead of asking for ID. That’s something that wouldn’t happen anywhere else in Berk these days, the bars down on the main street that charge ten dollars for some locally made shitty whiskey usually end up asking Hiccup for two IDs if he makes the mistake of shaving too close to going. It makes him want to ask how Gruffnut manages to pay rent if Heather is struggling, but he guesses this is a worse neighborhood.

Or was, maybe murders happening so close to the condos will equalize property values a little bit.

Who’s he kidding? They’ll probably skyrocket. He saw his first article relating the current duo of murders to Viggo Grimborn this morning and couldn’t help but read it. It got a lot wrong, even ascribing to the theory that the third victim’s fiancé did it to first scare her into staying off the street and then to cover his tracks, but Hiccup gets the feeling it did what it was supposed to. Someone at the shelter was complaining about motel prices doubling nearly overnight and Berserker Tours added a RSVP tab to the website that Hiccup told himself he wouldn’t check, but when he did it was scheduling three weeks out.

Snotlout dutifully doesn’t listen to Hiccup’s rant about it, staring idly around the room like if he looks bored enough Hiccup won’t know he’s looking for a target. It makes Hiccup think about texting Astrid for what must be the hundredth time this week, and he sets his phone on the table where his pocket can’t accidentally make that decision for him.

“…absolute lying, thieving sack of shit!” The insult rises above the noise of the crowd mid-sentence and a few heads turn towards the end of the bar by the door. Hiccup turns in the booth to investigate and thinks he recognizes the blonde woman yelling at Gruffnut, hands planted on the weathered counter. “Don’t play dumb with me, I know exactly how dumb you are and you aren’t going to get away with acting any dumber than that!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Gruffnut whistles, cleaning a glass with a filthy rag, “must have been Tuff.”

“Is that?” Snotlout frowns, talking mostly to himself. “I think that’s—”

“Ruff!”

Hiccup recognizes Astrid’s voice instantly and jumps to his feet, but Snotlout is already across the room, holding Ruffnut back as she’s trying to claw her way over the counter.

“Let’s calm down here—”

“I don’t need a cop to protect me from my dweeby little girl cousin, Snotlout.”

Ruffnut’s yell is primal and she elbows Snotlout in the chest almost hard enough for him to lose his grip.

“You absolute piece of shit, if you don’t find my money I’m going to kill you and claim next of kin, you creepy body snatching—”

“Ruff, calm down,” Astrid tries again, catching Ruffnut’s arm before she can take another swing at Snotlout.

“I don’t even have to hide it, I can just disembowel it in the street at a specific location and—”

“Hey!” Astrid booms, shoving Snotlout and Ruffnut out of the way and evidently taking the problem into her own hands. “Just give her the money, Gruff. And while you’re at it, I’d like my fifty bucks back.”

“You never loaned me fifty bucks, that was Tuffnut.”

“How about a free round,” Hiccup inserts himself, leaning elbows on the bar next to her and waving sheepishly when she cocks her head, surprised but not unhappy to see him. “Or I’ll tell Snotlout to release the beast over there.”

“He doesn’t listen to you,” Gruffnut narrows his eyes but starts pouring four shitty beers anyway.

“I might not have a choice,” Snotlout grunts as Ruffnut flings herself back against him, trying to kick at the bar, “fuck, she’s strong.”

“Flattery won’t work on me,” she grunts, yanking Snotlout’s arm off of her waist and turning to face him. Her posture changes instantly, hip cocked as she twirls long hair around her finger, “oh, yours might.”

“This isn’t even the first situation this week that my good looks have diffused,” Snotlout grabs two beers off of the counter and hands one to Ruffnut, smiling smugly at Gruffnut, “you should be glad to have me around.”

“Yeah, I’ll be glad to have you around the day it’s legal to charge cops ten percent more.” He grumbles, walking to the other end of the bar to serve someone else, “can’t even have a bar fight with your cousin these days. Fucking nanny state.”

“So…” Hiccup looks at Astrid as Ruffnut and Snotlout head back to the booth, “there’s a story here.”

“Yeah,” she tucks a lock of her hair behind her ear, ponytail slightly crooked, likely from her own attempt to hold Ruffnut back, “I should probably tell it, I doubt Ruffnut has the attention span right now.”

Of course Ruffnut and Snotlout are sharing one side of the booth and Hiccup tries to be casual as Astrid slides in next to him, accidentally bumping his shoulder as she takes off her jacket and sets it between them. It’s not much of a buffer because it smells like her shampoo, floral even above the cigarette smell ingrained decades deep into the wood paneling on the wall, and Hiccup tries to focus on anything but the memory of encyclopedias falling in tune with his pounding heart.

“Guess what?” Ruffnut is too pleased with herself to really look annoyed, “after all, it turns out that Snotlout wouldn’t have minded you giving me his number. All that arguing for nothing.”

“Not for nothing,” Snotlout stretches an arm across the back of the booth, “I didn’t mind holding you back, babe.”

“I mean I’d rather you didn’t hold me back,” she grins, “and we were wearing less or it was strategically pushed aside—”

“Oh my God!” Astrid chugs about half of her beer in a single gulp, cheeks practically glowing and a stern expression on her face. “I’m sorry about her, Snotlout, thank you for helping me save my friend from assaulting someone.”

“Again, I don’t mind,” Snotlout winks and Hiccup usually asks him how he thinks anyone could think that looks cool, but now he’s just remembering how stupid he must have looked doing the same at Astrid and asking her to kiss him again.

And then they found a body.

That’s still a change in tone he hasn’t found a way to navigate.

“I kind of do,” Ruffnut puffs out her cheeks and releases the air in a small, deflated puff, “the holding me back part, I mean. Free beer is my favorite, but it takes a lot of free beer to add up to a thousand dollars.”

“Less to fifty,” Astrid snorts, “I might be up to it.”

“That would be like sixteen of these on happy hour,” Hiccup turns his glass between his hands, “I’m not doubting your power, but…”

“After the week I’ve had, I might be up to it,” she shakes her head, obviously tired. It looks different than the kind of tired he saw when he showed up at her door too late or too early, or the kind of tired she was when she just had to wait for his eleven o’clock tour to yell one last theory down at him. It’s deeper and he hates that he knows why she can’t sleep.

“So, how do you guys know Gruff?” Hiccup changes the subject before it can drift naturally into Grimborn and all the ways its meaning might be changing.

“Are you kidding me?” Ruffnut points at her face and then absently over her left shoulder with a habitual thumb. “Oh, shit, Tuff isn’t here right now, that would be confusing.”

“He’s Ruffnut’s cousin,” Astrid explains, “and her brother’s doppleganger, it’s a whole long confusing story.”

“Well, I don’t have anywhere to be.” Hiccup tries to feel natural but Snotlout’s easy arm on the back of the other side of the booth makes his heart race when he even thinks about doing the same to Astrid. He remembers what she felt like against him, the strong set of her shoulders under his hands, the curve of her waist, and his entire body itches to pull her into his side now.

Not that there’s any indication she’d let him. She might see him and remember an alley she never wants to see again with him presenting it like Vanna White happily revealing the prize behind door number three.

“He takes my twin brother’s clothes and asks for money or stuff and when he gets it, he falls off the face of the earth again. Last time it was Tuff owing tax money so of course I gave it to him,” Ruffnut rubs her temple, “I’m too good of a sister, that’s the whole problem.”

“How alike could they possibly look?” Snotlout asks, grinning when Ruffnut is apparently happy to be blinded by his chest.

“It’s…kind of creepy, actually,” Astrid sighs, “I didn’t believe it until Tuffnut didn’t pay back some money I loaned him. He’s usually good about that stuff but he just kept insisting I never loaned him anything, and then I met Gruffnut.” She waves her hand towards the bar, ponytail swinging for emphasis.

“You know, babe, if you had a case for identity theft,” Snotlout waggles his eyebrows and Ruffnut pouts, crumpling into his side, head dramatically on his shoulder. He wraps his arm easily around her waist and Astrid sits up straighter, so rigid if Hiccup didn’t know better he’d think she was a wax statue.

A wax statue that had its post-forming makeup touched up by someone red-green colorblind trying to make an absolutely gorgeous Wicked Witch of the West, but still.

“I wish,” Ruffnut groans, “Tuffnut worships the ground the guy walks on.”

“I get it,” Snotlout nods, “that’s how Hiccup feels about me, some cousins just have that energy.” He grins, looking pointedly at Hiccup’s awkward arm, setting limply in his lap like he forgot how to move it. “Some don’t.”

“I get that you’re pissed, Ruff, I am too, but maybe it’s not the time for the disemboweling threats,” Astrid says it like the words are likely to bounce back at her so she doesn’t want to sharpen them too much.

“Why not?” Ruffnut snorts and gestures at Hiccup, “I’m in the right company.”

“Right, that’s me,” Hiccup nods to himself, “the disemboweled body guy. It’s good to finally officially introduce myself.”

This is going great.

“Oh, we’ve met,” Ruffnut raises an eyebrow, “how’s the tour business? I bet it’s picking up with some crazy mimic on the loose.”

“Babe, I’m not supposed to talk about it, but I can’t help myself around you so I’ll just say that the police have no actual reason to link the murders,” Snotlout tries to steer the conversation and Astrid glares at him. “Aside from, you know, some obnoxious weirdos or whatever.”

“If you’re not supposed to talk about it, maybe don’t talk about it.”

“I didn’t,” he rolls his eyes, “I said what we haven’t found, which is not the same as saying what we have—”

“How about none of us talk about it?” Hiccup tries, drumming his hands on the edge of the table, “anyone read any good books lately?”

“Nope,” Astrid looks at him helplessly then, wide eyes begging him to keep a secret. A bookish secret, apparently.

Oh, their secret. It makes sense that what happened at the archives would get lost in the whirlwind of finding a body, but Hiccup can’t quite stop himself from assuming she regrets it.

“Right, like it’s possible to avoid talking about it,” Ruffnut points at the TV over the bar, where the news is showing a juxtaposition of a picture of the alley from the Grimborn file along with a modern picture.

“…police response has been sluggish, given the repeated nature of the murders and the plausible connection to the Viggo Grimborn case—”

“I’ll put it on Sports Center,” Snotlout stands up and Astrid follows.

“What? So we can watch more Superbowl reruns?”

Snotlout grins, “not a Pats fan?”

“Don’t talk to me,” she shoves him hard enough that he stumbles and makes a bee-line for the tv.

“Is it because you’re a sore loser or what?” Snotlout starts in on his favorite argument.

“Well, there goes his night,” Hiccup tries to joke with Ruffnut even as he watches Astrid’s furious, irritated expression. She takes the remote from Snotlout’s hand and changes the channel, ignoring a few complaints at the bar. “Especially because it looks like Astrid has an opinion on the topic.”

Ruffnut narrows her eyes and Hiccup clears his throat, unused to the position of Designated Normal Person and unsure if he’s doing it right.

“So umm, football?”

“Did you do it?” Ruffnut whispers, leaning close across the table.

“Football?” Hiccup laughs, “yeah, look at me. I was a championship kicker, won the big game for the whole town and—”

“No, the murders,” she clarifies, shrewd even as she tries to look casual. “I’m just saying, it’s a little suspicious that you were giving murder site tours to my best friend both times they happened.”

“No, I did not murder two people.”

“Because I mean it, Astrid is my absolute best friend, and if you’re getting her entangled in some weird serial killer cult, she won’t be the one getting blamed for it.” It’s too matter of fact to be a threat, like the sequence of events already exists in a universe Hiccup really doesn’t want to get to.

“I’m not introducing Astrid to a murderous cult.”

“Well, I know you guys aren’t hooking up because if you were, she’d probably have something more interesting to talk about than stupid Viggo Grimborn.” Ruffnut looks him up and down appraisingly, “maybe.”

“I’m not introducing Astrid to a murderous cult,” Hiccup repeats the truth, willing his expression flat.

“HGTV?” Snotlout scoffs over the crowd, “right, for all the renovating you do in your shitty apartment.”

“It’s aspirational,” Astrid jumps and neatly sets the remote on top of the tv where Snotlout can’t reach it. “Unlike the NFL’s stance that their system is really totally fine even if the competition has devolved into who gets cheated by a bunch of—”

“That’s my cue,” Ruffnut drains her beer and stands up, “she gets on me for threatening my dipshit cousin and then she starts dissing the Patriots in a bar in the middle of Downtown Berk. I don’t know what she’d do without me.”

“Always a pleasure, Ruff,” Hiccup waves before slumping forward, smacking his forehead on the table a couple of times for good measure.

Astrid regrets kissing him, her best friend thinks he’s more likely to be into ritualistic murder than to have a chance with her. He’s broke. Someone might be a ritualistic serial killer and their shared interest in Berk’s history is making him more broke.

He expects Snotlout to start right in on making fun of his absolutely disastrous performance with Astrid, so he’s shocked when someone quietly slides into the booth across from him. He doesn’t expect to look up and see Astrid biting her lip and staring pensively at her beer.

“Where—”

“They just left together,” she cuts him off with an awkward laugh, “just so you know.”

“Ah,” Hiccup pushes his hair back, half-relieved and half-jealous, unsure where the feelings overlap. He’d love to not be here, but Astrid seems committed to being exactly where she is, so he’s committed. “So I’m stuck here for a while then.”

“I wouldn’t worry too much about it,” she shrugs a stiff shoulder, “you’ve met Ruffnut, it’s not like she’s shy about…well, anything.”

“Oh no, not—It’s not about her, it’s for my own good.” He laughs, wishing she’d sat back next to him at the same time as he’s glad to be able to see her face, slowly relaxing away from it’s coiled, anxious expression. “Snotlout’s a screamer.”

She snorts mid-drink, clapping her hand over her nose and coughing.

“Sorry,” he shoves a crumpled napkin at her before re-thinking it, “never mind, I wouldn’t trust anything on this table—”

“I’m fine,” she wipes her nose on her sleeve and pointedly changes the subject, “how have you been? Usually I don’t have to ask because I see you every night outside my window.” She doesn’t mention why he’s not doing tours and that makes it more obvious.

Or maybe it’s obvious all on its own and he’s just skirting the issue by making her snort beer out of her nose.

“I’m good. Fine. You?” He wouldn’t try to deny that he’s asking how traumatized she is. In fact, he probably deserves an award for not tacking on a rating scale. One means she needs a ride to a licensed mental health professional immediately, ten means she’s smart enough to never want to see him again because he’s obviously a weirdo dragging her towards the macabre and it’s not good for her.

He’s hoping for like a six, meaning she’d take a hug but won’t necessarily make him talk about it.

“I just said I’m fine,” her half smile accuses him of being a little bit stupid and he can’t help but remember how soft her lips were. How weirdly sweet she was when she tried to save his tour. How adorably embarrassed she was when she impossibly let it slip that she thought he did something sexy, like that’s a word anyone has ever associated with him, least of all someone like Astrid.

And then they found a body.

“Good.” As bad as Hiccup is at performing the role of Designated Normal Person, he’s even worse at having nothing to say.

“Thanks, by the way,” Astrid clears her throat, sniffing like there’s still beer where it shouldn’t be, “for not telling Ruffnut about…you know, the other day.”

“Which part?” Hiccup scratches the back of his head, “because I think she knows about the whole umm…finding a body part, given she thinks I’m the killer.”

“She doesn’t seem to get that people can have a shared interest and nothing more.” Her words sting but her blush doesn’t.

“Right, shared interests always lead to ritualistic murder,” he nods, elbows on the table as he leans a little closer to not have to say murder so loud, “I don’t see the flaw in that logic.”

“Either murder or the inevitable ‘sex in a murder alley’ she keeps insisting is a thing.” Astrid is either very cruel or has no idea of her ability to short circuit minds.

“Yeah, that sounds pretty morbid and drafty,” Hiccup laughs, his heart slamming around his ribcage apparently untethered, “plus, if ritualistic murder alley sex was on the table, your apartment is already a murder site so…” He swallows hard, wishing the floor would do the same to him. “Not a new one—"

“Don’t remind me,” she says seriously, clearly choosing not to hear the worst of what he just said, and he’s an idiot who can’t take an out.

“So no point in risking the public indecency charge, I guess.” He gestures between them and shakes his head, “not that ‘murder alley sex’ is a thing that exists at all, let alone with—you know, you. Or me. Or—"

“Don’t you mean my apartment isn’t a new murder scene yet?” Her laugh is humorless and heavy as she cautiously meets his eyes. “I hate to even say it, but do you think it’s a Grimborn thing?”

Hiccup’s stomach twists and looking into her tired face, he wishes he was a better liar, “I guess we’ll find out.”

“If it is,” she looks at him carefully, her assessment entirely perpendicular to Ruffnut’s, “if someone is killing people like Viggo Grimborn did, how can we just sit there doing nothing? If this—what are you going to do about it?”

He knows the correct answer to that question. It’s been drilled into him again and again since before he can remember. Hell, probably since before he could walk.

The police are dealing with it. The system works. Getting in the way only slows down the process.

But he can’t say that because Astrid knows that means nothing. It’s an empty thing he’d say to tell her to move on with her life while people are getting hurt, to pretend that mental blinders do anything other than hide suffering. And she’s too smart for that. Too smart and too honest to go along with it.

And she doesn’t scare easy.

“Probably something stupid,” he shrugs and she nods, apparently satisfied with the answer.

“Sounds about right.”

#ripped #httyd fic #hiccstrid #modern au #serial killer tour guide au #rufflout #coplout

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katmstanton · 6 years

Text

Fresh Start - Ch. 8 Open

Sorry for the delay everyone! I did not want to give you something I was not proud of and needed to let my brain heal a bit after this past class ended. I was so drained there at the end of the class I was having a hard time writing.

It’s been a while since I've said this but.... Tissues for this one!

Please let me know what you guys think and let me know if you want to be added to the tag list!

Tags: @madpanda75 @mrsrafaelbarba @sweetsummertime99 @obfuscateyummy @julie-yard @sweetcannolicarisi @tiredrainbi @surrealdiaries @dreila03 @ctfarhan @esparza-army @imagine-rafaelbarba @msnyc @lyssa1385 @breakawayfromeveryday

8. Open

“Please make yourself at home. I’ll only be a moment.” He said as he gave you a quick kiss on your forehead before turning towards the hall.

As he moved towards his room down the hall you allowed yourself to look closer at the bookshelves and pictures on them. You could tell a few were recently taken while others were older pictures.

As you picked up one of the older pictures you couldn’t help but allow a soft smile to cross your face as you looked closer at the image in front of you, a young boy and an older woman hugging with smiles on their faces.

You knew from the smile the young boy was a very young Rafael and smiled at the image of him as you placed the picture back on the shelf.

There were a few you assumed to be from recent years and as you picked one of them up you could see the vast differences of the Rafael Barba you knew and the one looking back at you from the frame.

He was standing with a group of what you assumed to be police officers from the badges at their hips and his demeanor was something you had never seen before.

This Rafael Barba was stern, he did not smile, and he did not show emotion. This was not the Rafael who send book quotes randomly or who would hum random songs in his office without realizing others were present.

No, this Rafael Barba was one that did not play, did not show emotions, and did not allow others to see beyond the walls.

“This must be from his ADA days..” You thought to yourself as you placed the picture back on the shelf.

As you moved towards the couch to sit and try one of his many sudoku puzzles while you waited for him to reemerge something caught your eye. His iPod was still on the dock next to the sofa and you smirked as you pressed play on the dock, allowing the soulfulness of Ed Sheeran’s voice to fill the room.

Before you could move towards the couch a set of arms wrapped around your waist from behind pulling you against his chest as he did.

“I see you found the iPod.” He whispered as he kissed your ear..

As he pulled you towards the empty space in the room and started to sway with you against his chest you allowed your head to fall against his shoulder with a sigh. The two of you swayed to the music and as the song died down you turned to look at him.

“I was looking at your pictures.” You started as he looked past you towards the shelf with an anxious expression on his face.

“You were a really cute little boy, Rafael.” You softly said as you placed a sweet kiss on his lips before looking up into his deep green eyes once more.

“Rafael.. Tell me about who you were before now.” You started to say and felt him tense and try to pull away slightly.

“I saw the photo of you with a group of people and you look completely different than you do now. This Rafael sends me cute sayings and leaves hot teas and coffees in my lecture hall before Monday classes. That Rafael..” You say as you motion towards the picture you were looking at earlier.

“That Rafael.. That Rafael is one who drinks way too much caffeine and doesn’t see any happiness or joy in the world. That Rafael is dark and moody. That Rafael is one who has seen the worst of the world and will do anything to make it right.”

As you spoke you saw his wall crumble a small fraction as he leaned back into your embrace and placed his forehead against yours and let out an audible sigh.

“Y/N..”

The two of you stood wrapped in a warm embrace, neither wanting to speak and ruin the moment before you had to but you could hear him thinking even if you couldn’t see him.

“Y/N” He softly said as he pulled away.

“I need to tell you something.. If you hate me I understand. I just need to let you know the man you are here with. The man I am.” He said as he looked into your eyes.

“Okay..”

As the two of you moved toward the couch his walls built up once again and as you sat he moved to allow a bit of distance between the two of you. You leaned in and took his hand before he started to speak, giving a small squeeze as he started.

He talked to you about his ADA days and how ruthless he was not only in the courtroom but also when he would meet with witnesses and suspects. He told you how he would use various ways to gain information, some that were no where appropriate.

He told you about his snarkiness and how he used his temper and his words to his advantage. He told you about having a belt around his neck, how he took down an entire school, and how he often went against the NYPD just to get his way.

He explained how he carried the weight of victims deaths and unfound justice on his shoulders and how he allowed it to eat him alive the entire time he worked with SVU. He explained how the later years were the worst and how they affected him the most.

As he spoke you held his hand and allowed him to lead the conversation, only saying things when you needed clarification or to encourage him to continue. You could see the pain on his face and saw the fear of his explanations in his eyes. You could tell that as much as he wanted you to know everything he was scared to death of what you might think or say when he was done.

As he finished telling you about his last case and about the charges he received thereafter you felt you heart break for him, for the emotions he had been carrying since he walked down the courthouse steps.

The tears in his eyes were real and the emotions on his tongue were raw as he explained how he wanted to make something in the world right even if it was wrong. The wavering of his voice did not fall on deaf ears as you heard the trembles and the stutters as he told you of every detail he could muster and actually say,

When he finished and trailed off into silence you could feel the tension in his shoulders from across the couch and could hear his brain thinking and worrying about what your reaction was going to be.

You did not know what to say but did know you did not hold any part of everything he told you against him. If anything, it allowed you to understand more and fall more for him as you heard his story and saw the emotions that came with each word

“Rafael..” You whisper as you move towards him, drawn by an invisible force. ‘

When your lips met his you tasted the saltiness of his tears and felt the wetness on your hands as you held his face in your hands. As you brushed your tongue across his lip he allowed the kiss to deepen and, with a primal need to be close and heal the wounds he just ripped open, he kissed you back with every bit of passion he had in his body.

“Rafael..” You said as you pulled away slightly to lean your forehead against his.

You knew if you did not stop the kiss there neither of you would be able to or even want to stop. At the same time you knew this is not what either of you needed at that moment and knew he needed to hear your thoughts and hear how you felt before either of you could go further or continue the relationship.

“Rafael, look at me.”

“You hate me don’t you? Let me get your coat -”

“Rafael, stop. I don’t hate you.” You said as you placed your hands back on his face trying to calm him down.

“Come back to me Raf.. and not just physically.” You whispered as you leaned your forehead against his.

“I am right here. I’m here. I promise.” He whispered back as he leaned against you and moved to cover your hands with his.

“Tell me you don’t hate me, Y/N.” He whispered and you could hear the trembles in his voice and knew he was on the edge of a breaking point.

“I don’t hate you, Raf. I promise you that.”

As you spoke you heard his breath catch and felt his hands tighten around yours. You could see he was hanging on by a thread and knew he had never allowed himself to grieve everything that had happened over the last few years and never allowed himself to vocalize anything about what had happened to him.

He had never been able to get everything out in the open due to fear of turning everyone away from him, making everyone think he was a monster.

“Let it go, Rafael. I’m not going anywhere.” You said softly as his walls finally crumbled and the tears fell without constraint as you pulled him into a hug and allowed his head to fall on your shoulder.

#Rafael barba and y/n #rafael barba x reader #rafael barba fanfic #rafael barba #law and order svu fanfiction #law and order svu

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