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equestrianwritingsstuff · 4 years ago

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The Weapons: The Crash

This is a series I have been thinking about with some OCs. The basic idea is that a corrupt mental institution takes in these villains and turns them into weapons for a cause unknown.

The warnings for the whole series are: mental institution, dehumanization, needles, creepy illegal mental institution practices, villain whumpees, both lady whump and male whump, referring to people as "its" and "subjects", and lots of (illegal) steroids/power enhancers

I will do individual warnings for each chapter.

Warnings: dehumanization, referring to people as "its" and "subjects", steroids (mention), IV, sensory deprivation, fake power enhancers (mention), car crash, choking (brief)

The room was white. White with the faintest trace of mud towards the floor. White that was stained with the slightest pink as if blood had been splattered and wouldn't clean.

It was silent too, dead silent. The lack of sound was alarming and unnatural, yet it fit the aesthetic perfectly. The only thing that broke the image was an eerie shadow that made people take a second glance.

The shadow led to a human, hanging by their wrists and ankle from the ceiling. They wore a thin hospital gown that hardly gave any warmth from the AC that was constantly pumped into the room. They were blindfolded with black goggles that completely obscured their vision. Their ears were covered by headphones that looked way too big for their small head.

All the subject heard, over and over, was "Hot Blooded" by Foreigner. The constant 90s rock song was loud, rattling their eardrums with every slam of a drum or every time the guitar hit a chord.

It destroyed any brink of sleep they managed to catch. The incessant sound caused a headache that could not be alleviated. They were going crazy; crazy like everyone else in that building.

They were being stripped of their identity. They hardly remembered their life before Hot Blooded blasted through their eardrums. They had no name, no gender, no past or present other than hanging there in the white room that they couldn't even see.

Isolation may be the easiest way to drive one crazy. That and the music turned up to max volume. Crazy and ready to be molded into whatever the doctors deemed appropriate.

The door to the white room opened with a creak then a slam. But the subject did not hear it. They were locked in their world, fuzzy and cool without a care for reality.

"Subject 143," the doctor with a clear clipboard read. Female. Nearly white blonde hair that offset her darker skin.

"Date of admission: 17 May at 12:03 P.M.," she read with clarity and devoid of any emotion. "Weight at admission: 134 pounds. Female; 5 foot, 4 inches. Age: 19." She stuck the clipboard between her armpit and eyed the hanging subject with curiosity, "Let it down."

The word "it" rang throughout the room like fire. It spit venom at the few cracks in the plaster, making them seem like they expanded in agony.

The doctor's assistants released the subject slowly. They were professional, not unnecessarily cruel other than protocol.

The subject, female, stiffened at the sudden drop in altitude. Even though it was only a foot, it was all she knew. The slight change in pressure screamed at her nerves, but at the same time it was slightly relieving. It was the first feeling she felt in what seemed forever.

"Subject has been under sensory deprivation for a month," the doctor continued reading her notes. "Let's begin a physical evaluation."

The subject's knees hit the floor, sending a shock through her body. Her bottom lip trembled, yet it wasn't joy. It wasn't joy that she felt when her body touched the hard tiles. It was fear. Fear of this new world in a way that made one's heart race.

"Turn off the headphones." The subject felt pressure that made the small hairs on her arms raise in anticipation. She raised her top lip in a snarl, ready to fight.

A click and all was silent.

The subject collapsed forward, her hands immediately trying to reach her ears. The headache was worse now, much worse. It radiated through her ears with heat bouncing out of every pore. The dizziness made her want her music, at least it kept out this strange buzzing.

Strong arms gripped the skinny biceps, pulling the subject back onto her knees.

"She's been getting nutrients and liquids for a month now by IV."

The subject flexed her muscles. She forgot about the IV that fed her all the nutrients she needed. She never was fed food. She forgot the taste of it and the thought of actually ingesting something was exciting yet nauseating at the same time.

"Good to know. She is looking quite slender, but no worries." Hands touched the subject's core, pressing down on each rib until she flinched back, squirming in the hands that held her. Hands stuck into her mouth, forcing it open and inspecting every tooth. Gloved fingers ran over her gums, jabbing at all of the inflamed sores.

"Put dental work on that list you got there Nurse Baton," the doctor ordered. "And I want it on Anadrol-50 and power enhancers. It needs muscles fast and I do not have the time to work to devise a strict workout schedule. Rather save that for the more dangerous subjects."

"Yes ma'am."

"Start her on a diet of mashed oats with avocado and protein supplements. May sound fancy, but we need these muscles back in shape." The doctor squeezed the once-taut muscles in disgust.

"Yes ma'am."

"Other than that, weigh her and do some blood work. I expect her to be ready by the end of the week."

"Yes ma'am."

The doctor grabbed the subject's chin, tipping it upwards and took in the pale, hollowed features. Once pretty, the subject was now like a ghostly corpse from a horror movie. The doctor lifted the goggles off, watching in slight amusement as the subject blinked her bloodshot eyes rapidly.

"Well," the doctor made a few small circles on the subject's cheek. "You are quite fiery."

The subject only snarled and tried to lunge at the doctor.

"Attention all heros north of Redbrook," came the same droning voice of dispatch. Trisha groaned and leaned forward to click in.

"Trisha Jakes here, what'dya got," the half-asleep hero grumbled. She yawned, leaning her forehead against the steering wheel thinking about the pleasant dream she was just experiencing.

"The Redbrook Mental Asylum had an escape. Male, twenty years of age. About five foot nine and 189 pounds. Dark brown hair and blue eyes," the dispatch sounded bored like they did this on the daily, which is more than likely. But then their voice turned oddly foreboding, "Labeled as highly-dangerous. Use any means to capture: tranq gun, taser, anything."

"I am five miles from the asylum," Trisha already was pulling out of the parking lot she was napping in. "I can look around."

"Copy that," and the dispatch repeated their message. Not wanting to hear the description of the individual, Trisha clicked out.

This was not the first time that she had dealt with mentally sick people, but it was the first time that she dealt with one her age at the same time as being "Highly Dangerous" as dispatch put it.

Trisha leaned forward and clicked the button on her steering wheel that allowed her to call people.

"Call Colton Myers on cell," Trisha stressed every syllable. She didn't have the time to repeat herself.

"Calling Colton Myers on cell…" Trisha sighed in relief when the speaker lady's voice repeated back to her, followed almost directly by a ringtone.

"Hey Trisha, what's up?"

Trisha didn't even bother to say "hey" back. "Colton," she gasped, growing in nervous excitement. "Get out here now. There is this guy on the loose from that asylum."

"Isn't that your job," Colton chuckled on the other end. Trisha could just imagine the twinkle of laughter in his deep green eyes that reminded her of emeralds.

"Yes," Trisha replied in a flirty tone. "But isn't it your job to design websites, yet I do half of your work?" She smiled to herself. Even though it could get frustrating because Colton was practically incapable of doing anything but complaining, she loved graphic design.

"You got me. But now we are even."

"Shut up," Trisha hoped the smile was prominent in her voice, "I have to go."

"Bye-bye idiot."

"Charming," Trisha teased and hung up, quite content with her friendship status.

Trisha drove on in silence, observing every shadow as she tried to put her mind into a disabled guy's mindset. What would he deem safe? Definitely not a building, if he thought that the asylum was dangerous. Trisha shuddered, that asylum gave her the creeps. Professional, yes, but the attitudes of the nurses were disturbing.

Yet they helped keep villains locked up… Trisha shook her head. The place was in alliance with the Hero Agency. Good, safe, and most of all necessary.

She knew that the people who were admitted into the facility were villains. Some may even call Redbrook a reformation center. Trisha cocked her head, deep in thought as she half-heartedly watched the traffic.

If he was a villain, wouldn't he be searching for something villainy? Assuming that he had some form of anger issues or another mental problem -or maybe just truma?- he would likely be headed to a Villain Agency, or his home.

Yet, what good would that be? There was only one villain agency in Redbrook, assuming he lived in Redbrook. But that agency was too tiny for a "highly-dangerous" patient.

And Trisha had no idea if he even had a home to begin with.

She sighed and started to tap the steering wheel in a rhythmic beat. Periodically, she would glance down to her bow and gun to make sure they were still there.

Very suddenly, a flash of white boltes in front of the windshield. Without thinking, Trisha spun around, making other cars honk and scream at her. But she didn't care, for her eyes were locked on the thin hospital gown.

The sight baffled her for a moment. The gown was so thin that she could see his shoulder bones from fifty feet away. She pressed the gas until her speedometer read eighty-five. She was nearing, very close… almost there…

BAM!

Trisha let out a scream as her car lost control. Her seat belt started to unceremoniously pressed against her chest, restricting any breathing. She gasped for air as adrenaline and fear coursed through her veins. The seatbelt was moving up towards her trachea.

Then it snapped and Trisha fell forward hitting- but not breaking- the reinforced windshield. Her back lit up in pain as the car continued to go out of control until it hit a concrete wall.

And the world was engulfed by one big, black wave.

"Move your hand for me."

Trisha gulped and lifted up her wrist. She slowly was regaining strength over the course of a fews days. The Hero Agency and its medics had access to an array of fast-paced healing techniques.

Luckily, Trisha didn't break anything important. Just a few ribs and her jaw, but glass got into her organs. The doctors surgically removed the pieces and with the speedy recovery, she was beginning to get better.

"Good. You should be discharged by the end of the week, but keep it easy. Okay?"

"'Kay," Trisha replied and started fiddling with her thumbs. There was no way that she would be able to take it easy when a murderer just got her into an accident.

What if he knew who she was? What if he finished the job? Already, she made sure that someone was in the hospital room with her. Her boss wouldn't spare anymore heros, but Colton was already there.

Trisha looked over at the chair that Colton was slumped in. His mouth was parted open as he silently snored and murmured in his sleep. His ruffled light brown hair looked even more greasy than a McDonald's cheeseburger.

Yet even though he held an unpleasant appearance, Trisha was more than thankful for his sacrifice. So, even though the poor hero was loaded with questions, she let her best friend sleep.

#the weapons #trisha jakes #colton myers #villain whumpee #mental institution #sensory deprivation #my ocs #steroids #car crash

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waywardnerd67 · 4 years ago

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Spiraling

Summary: If something could go wrong in (Y/N)’s life then it did. Now she is on the verge of spiraling out of control. In her darkest moment, a hero will come to save her and set her on the path she was always meant to be on. Characters: Dean Winchester, Reader Pairing: Dean x Reader Warnings: Angst/Fluff/Self-hate Talk/Talk of Suicide Word Count: 5040 A/N: The last couple of months have been hard so this is my way of dealing with it. A lot of the details are from actual things going on in my life, but I’ve changed the specifics for storytelling purposes.

“Your cat needs emergency surgery to save her life. In order for us to proceed we need a down payment of $1500 and then the remaining $600 once she can go home.”

“Your starter is bad. You have a battery cable that is carotid. Plus we found that there is a leak in your head gasket and it will need to be replaced immediately. All together parts, labor and tax it will total $4976.”

“Effective Immediately: New Management. Your apartment complex is now under the management of Lindchest LLC. Your rent will go up starting November 2020 to $750 per month. There will be an additional pet deposit of $200 per pet and pet rent of $25 per pet. You will need to log on to our Tenant Portal to sign your lease within twenty-four hours or vacate your unit.”

I read the flyer that was haphazardly tape to my door once more. Looking down to Serenity, my cat with the $2100 bladder sighing, “Looks like you need to get a job.”

I unpacked my laptop letting it wake up only to discover that my internet was not working. I picked up my phone calling the all too familiar number.

“I’m sorry Ms. (Y/L/N), but it looks like there is a major outage in your area due to construction. We don’t have a timeframe of when it will be back up.”

I ended the call flopping down onto my couch, “I would love for one, just one, thing to go my way.”

The last month has been challenging between vet bills, my car being an oversized paper weight and my rent going up one hundred and seventy-five dollars plus two hundred dollar deposit. I did not think anything else could possibly go wrong until I arrived at work the next morning.

“Hey (Y/N), can we meet in my office?” my boss waved his hand for me to follow him.

A sinking feeling settled onto my chest as he asked me to close the door behind him, “I know we’ve had this conversation before, but your attendance.”

Tears welled up beneath my eyelids, but I held them back as he continued, “I know we’re trying to be cautious with COVID, but you’ve already been out sick quite a bit already.”

“I know I was, but my doctor recommended for me to stay out since I had more than half the symptoms of COVID.” My voice quivered at the end as my protective wall was crumbling.

He leant forward on his desk, “I know, but then it was your car issues and now you have a dentist appointment tomorrow morning that you just came to me about this morning. I just want to set up some firm guidelines for you using your time off from here on out. I would also like to see you come in for ninety days straight. (Y/N), you do a great job here, but you actually have to be here to do the job.”

“I know. I can reschedule my appointment for tomorrow and I will work with any guidelines you give me. I’m sorry about my attendance. I love my job and I love coming to work.” I was pleading as a wayward tear slipped down my cheek.

“I never once questioned that. We will work through this together. No need to reschedule your appointment since I approved it already. Going forward I will need at least one week's notice for you to use vacation days, forty-eight hours notice to use your personal days and twenty-four hours notice for your sick days.”

I nodded my agreement not trusting that I could hold the burning sob in my chest from bursting through. I left his office and spent the rest of my day in a complete daze. I drove home in the same daze only to have another flyer on my door from the new management.

“We Missed You! Dear Tenant, we entered your apartment today to make an assessment of it. We have found the following things broken, worn and in need of repair. Since this was not properly taken care of, you will be responsible for all repairs and they will need to be scheduled for completion within one week’s time. Please log on to your Tenant Portal to schedule this as soon as possible. Thank you, Lindchest, LLC”

I caught the edge of my kitchen counter as my legs gave out. The list of repairs was more than what I was renting the place for. I managed to get myself to my bedroom and landed face first on the mattress. Freely the tears flowed down my face and my body shook as overwhelming sorrow ran through her.

Serenity butted her head up against mine, “Hi baby. I’m sorry your mommy is a screw up. Would you want to go live with you grandma?”

She snuggled against my arm purring. My body relaxed as I continued to pet her and listen to her purring until finally I drifted off to sleep. Dreams of a better life tormented me throughout the night. The next morning, would solidify my darkest thoughts into a plan of action as the last bit of bad news I could take happened.

“We will need to extract two molars and all four wisdom teeth. I will refer you to an oral surgeon who can get you scheduled right away. After insurance, you’re probably looking at $1500 to $2000 for everything. You will have to provide fifty percent of the total at the time of service and then I’m sure they could work payments out for you.”

I took a deep breath, “Okay. If you could give me the information I will schedule it. I also need a note for my employer for today’s appointment.”

As I sat in the chair waiting for the dental assistant to come back my inner self yelled loudly.

“You are nothing in this world. You are providing nothing and only taking resources away from everyone. Serenity would be taken care of by your mom. Work will find someone to replace you in a snap. You have no friends. You have no place you can afford to live. I think it’s a sign from up above that now is your time to take matters in your own hands. It’s time to free up your space for someone more deserving. More functional. More worthy.”

“Everything okay?” I looked up to see the assistant holding my papers and I nodded.

I went through the motions of work as my mind was preoccupied of my choices for the evening. Texting my mom, I asked her to watch over Serenity for a while so I could find a new place for us. Nothing sounded out of the ordinary and I as I said goodbye to my co-workers for the evening, I felt peace come over me. Dropping off my cat to my mom, I told her I could not stay since I had plans. On my kitchen table there was one letter addressed to her that would be found when she would come get my things.

I walked a half a mile down to a bridge that was over the river I lived by. The sun had gone down hours ago and now all that was left was for me to finally do something right.

***

Dean Winchester parked his car near the Jefferson Bridge watching as people came and went over it. His brother Sam was flirting with the local librarian, so Dean decided to give him the motel room for the night. He deserved it after all the crap they had gone through. He looked down at his watch, seeing it was coming up at midnight when something caught his eye.

A woman was looking over the wall down to the water. Suddenly he became antsy as he continued to watch her. He got out of his car casually walking towards her so as to not spook her. The cool night breeze blew through her beautiful (Y/C/H) hair. Her body was like a country dirt road with curves for days. His eyes were drifting down her body when she hopped up onto the wall and his heart leaped into his throat.

“Oh no pretty girl, don’t do what I think you’re trying to do.” He whispered as her eyes stayed focused on the water below.

Dean picked up his pace just in time reaching for her as she leapt from the bridge. His hands grasping underneath her arm and at her wrist.

“No! Let me go! Please let me go!” She yelled as I tried to pull her up.

“Sweetheart, trust me, life is not so bad that you should jump off a bridge. Let me help you, please.” He pleaded feeling something deep within him stirring.

She tried to fight against him, but he could feel her losing strength. With one swift move he had her sitting back up on the wall of the bridge. His arm tightly wrapped around her waist as she began to weep.

“No, this is meant to be. I’m not meant to be here. I’m nothing.” She tried to get out of his grasp unsuccessfully.

He pulled her off the wall and carried her to his car, “I’m positive that’s not true. Come on, why don’t I buy you some food and a drink then we can talk about it.”

Her body went rigid, “Why are you being nice to me? You don’t even know me.”

“It’s what I do, sweetheart. I help people who need it no matter what, but if it makes you feel better I’m Dean. Now how about some food and a drink because I’m starving.” He slowly let go of her as she looked down towards the ground.

“(Y/N).” she whispered as she reluctantly, she got in his car sliding across to the passenger side.

Dean drove to the bar nearby his motel glancing over to her every once in a while. Closer now, she was even more beautiful than he originally thought. (Y/N)’s eyes were soft (Y/C/E) and perfect pouty lips. Her body was turned towards her door as she looked out the window but he could imagine himself curling up next to her.

“Let me guess, you’re staying at the Chippewa Motel.” (Y/N) had turned towards him as they pulled into the bar parking lot.

He chuckled, “Yeah, why?”

She let out a soft laugh, “Because those are the only people who go to Sunset Bar.”

For a moment as they got out of the car, Dean’s chest tightened afraid that she would take off. He relaxed when she started walking towards the door and looked behind her to see if he was following. Walking inside, (Y/N) went to the furthest booth in the building. Dean took it upon himself to order them a couple of burgers and beers.

Waiting for their beers, he noticed quite a few men taking an interest in (Y/N). Even red and puffy eyed, she was still catching every man’s eye in the place. Quickly grabbing their beers, he made his way to her staring down every man on the way. He bumped the bottle on her arm motioning for her to move over.

“Thanks.” She muttered, taking a sip and curling herself up on the far end of the bench.

“I wouldn’t normally sit like this with a total stranger, but I think it’s safer for you if I do.” He watched as her eyes followed his widening.

She moved a little closer to him just enough for his fingers to brush against her shoulder, “As much as I don’t want to be a part of this world anymore that is not the way I want to go out.” She waved her bottle out towards the dispersing crowd of men.

“Why do you want to end it all?” His curiosity was getting the best of him.

A beautiful woman like (Y/N) should have everything the world could offer her. Happiness, money, love. His heart skipped at the very word. He pushed it from his mind refocusing on her.

“Have you ever wondered if God was punishing you for something you had no idea you did wrong?” She took a long drag from her bottle and Dean found himself swallowing hard.

“All the freaking time.” He chuckled remembering the recent bombshell that he and Sam were destined to kill one another because of God’s need for a good ending to his story.

She sighed looking up as the bartender brought their food to them. For the first time, (Y/N) genuinely smiled, “Bacon cheeseburgers are my favorite.”

“Mine too.” He smiled back at her before they each took a large bite.

For the next half an hour explaining everything that had gone wrong in her life up until today. From bad decisions, divorce, mental breakdown one and two, loss of jobs, unemployment, her cat, her car, her current job and her tooth. He had to admit the string of bad luck was hard to deny. None of which was a good enough reason to end her life.

When the waitress came for our plates, (Y/N) asked for a glass of water finishing off her beer. I placed my large hand on top hers covering it completely.

“I’m sorry you’ve been through so much and nearly all of it is out of your control. If you could do anything except end your life, what would you do?”

“Well if money was no option then I would grab Serenity and start a new life somewhere far away. Of course, I would keep in contact with my mom, but she would understand me leaving.” She stared off for a moment her face softening at the very thought of leaving.

Before he could stop to think about the words coming from his mouth they were already hitting her delicate ears, “I think I could help you with that.”

“W-What?” Her piercing eyes bore into his with hope, “How could you help me?”

“That is a conversation for a more private place and whiskey.” He chuckled and down the rest of his beer.

Dean started laughing as she practically pushed him out of the booth, “Well come on hero, I know a place that is private enough to talk.”

He threw a few bills down on the table for a tip and allowed (Y/N) to drag him from the bar. She directed him back towards the bridge except this time she pointed to a small, run down apartment complex. He parked next to the car (Y/N) pointed out to be hers, a newer SUV.

“I will deal with you tomorrow.” He pointed to the vehicle giving it a stern look.

Following (Y/N) up the stairs to her little studio apartment, “This is where the hiked up the rent?”

She nodded, “Yeah. At the time, it was the cheapest place to live. You just happen to be in luck that I have a bottle of whiskey stashed away. It’s in the cabinet above the fridge. I’m going to change out of my clothes and freshen up a little.”

Dean watched her disappear behind a room divider and made himself tear his eyes away from watching her gorgeous silhouette. Easily grabbing the bottle and two cups from a local Mexican restaurant he noticed a letter on the table.

“Mom, I know you’re upset. No, I know you’re pissed. I gave up. I didn’t come to you like I promised I would. I couldn’t come to you again with all my problems. I truly believe I was not meant to be in this world and that is why my life has been one shit show after another. I’m taking resources away from this world and not contributing to it. Honestly, everything will move on and you will live out the rest of your life not having to worry about me anymore.

Please take care of Serenity for me. Give her all the hugs and snuggle her extra for me. Mom, this was never your fault and there was nothing you could have done to save me. My mind is made up. The decision was made. I want you to remember what good times there were. I’m sorry for being selfish. I’m sorry for leaving you. Please know I love you very, very much. Goodbye. Love, (Y/N)”

“That wasn’t for you to read.” A small voice brought his eyes from the page but not before a few teardrops could fall onto the page, “You’re crying, why?”

He wiped away the tears falling down his cheeks, “I-I don’t know. I guess reading a suicide note brings out my inner Mr. Sensitivity.”

He tried to give her a sad smile chuckling, but his heart shattering into pieces made it hard too. She took the bottle and cups leading him to the small loveseat. They sat down before downing their first pours of whiskey. The amber liquor burning down his throat and warming his chest. He poured them both another drink before going into his own story.

“My brother and I travel across the country hunting all kinds of… things that go bump in the night.” Dean completely opened up about everything in his life. Carefully watching her every reaction as he spoke and only felt that there was once she wanted to bolt for the door.

“Wait…” she took the bottle and drank from it, “monsters are real?”

He nodded grabbing the bottle for himself, “Yep. Vampires, werewolves, chupacabras.”

Taking a drink, he handed it back to her allowing it all to sink in, “Okay so how does that help me? I’m not interested in hunting monsters or being a monster.”

“Well that’s good because I wouldn’t allow a beautiful woman to become either of those things. I was thinking more along the lines of teaching you how we manage to get unlimited money and then you could move wherever your heart desires. Is that more your speed?”

She nodded, “Now you’re speaking my language. God, it would be amazing to live somewhere remote where I could just write all day long.”

“Well, Sam and I can make that happen for you. We’re probably going to be leaving to head back home in a couple of days. You could travel with us then we could get you all set up and on a plane to all points nowhere, USA.”

Suddenly, (Y/N) launched herself into his arms hugging him tightly, “I can’t thank you enough, Dean.”

His arms wrapped around her and everything felt complete with her, it was strange for him to feel that way. Never once had he ever felt whole but a never ending void deep in his soul that was closing being near her. She pulled away slightly then pressed her lips to his cheek.

***

The next day, Dean had a heated conversation with his brother Sam. Once he was off the phone, he confirmed that I would follow them back to Lebanon, Kansas in my car once he fixed it. He dropped me off at work where everyone noticed the one hundred eighty degree mood change in me. I spent my last hour typing a resignation letter to my boss leaving it on his desk and packing up the few personal items I had.

Dean was waiting for me in the parking lot with his beloved car, “How was work?”

“It was… good. I’m happy to never have to go back to it again though.” He opened the door for me to slide in.

“Dean, would it be okay to stop by my mom’s to get Serenity?” His piercing emerald eyes narrowed for a split second before he smirked.

“Yeah, we can go get the furball.” He chuckled pulling out of the parking lot and leaving that part of me behind us.

I found out that Dean was an amazing liar, but also charming. He won my mom over in a few short minutes as Serenity jumped up onto my lap. I petted her a few times before resting my cheek against the top of her head.

I whispered to her, “Go check him and let me know what you think.”

I watched the shorthair tabby jump off her lap and up onto Dean’s. She sniffed him as he held his hand out to her. His nose began to twitch and she jumped down with a huff before he sneezed.

“Sorry furball, I’m allergic to you.” He sniffled before excusing himself to the bathroom.

Serenity meowed up at me before getting in her crate. The fact she did not hiss was a good sign and I closed her crate up after one last pet.

“So, how did you really meet Dean?” I knew my mom could see right through his story, so I told her the truth, “(Y/N) (Y/L/N), you should have come to me.”

“I know, but I just couldn’t. I was tired of being a screw up. I gave up.” The last few words were a whisper as my mom got up to sit next to me.

Her arms were around me as tears fell from both of our eyes, “Well I’m glad he saved you. Did you find a place to live?”

I pulled away from her, “Kind of. Dean and his brother are going to help me settle into a new spot. I will call you with all the details.”

I looked up to see Dean standing behind us, “I promise to take care of her.”

“Sounds like you already have. Thank you for saving my daughter.” In a rare moment, I watched as my mom got up hugging someone other than me. Dean was tense for a moment before hugging her back.

The rest of the evening and into the night, Dean spent working on my car. I sat outside with him on the green cooler from his car handing him tools. Grease covered his arms, hands and clothes.

“Hey tiny fingers, come here and get this bolt off.” He called out from under the engine.

I stepped on top of the cooler reaching over looking down to see his beautiful eyes staring back at me. Reaching down my fingers brushed against his as I loosened the bolt in question. Getting down off the cooler I found myself straddling over Dean’s chest as he slid out from underneath the car.

“Hey there pretty girl.” He smirked as I moved back from him.

“Ha. Ha. So, what’s the verdict?” I watched as he stood up seemingly towering over me.

I tried hard to concentrate on him, but between the leather musk on his skin and engine grease was making me dizzy, “Hello? Earth to (Y/N)?”

“What? Sorry, what did you say?” I felt my face burning as he stepped closer to me.

“Am I distracting you from paying attention?” Backing up until my butt was against his car, his hands rested on either side of me caging me in.

“I have n-no idea what you’re talking about. So, tell me is my car a goner?” I swallowed the large lump knotted in my throat.

Dean leaned in closer until their noses were almost touching tilting his head slightly, “Your car is fine. The mechanic was trying to get more money out of you. The head gasket is in great shape.”

He stepped back with a smug grin on his face and my body seemingly followed along with him before I stopped it, “That’s great news! The sooner we’re out of here, the better.”

The next morning, I woke up to low murmuring voices. One was distinctively Dean’s voice, “Sammy, I don’t know how else to say it clearer.”

His brother spoke in a concerned hushed tone, “I think you need to come up with another way because you’re sounding ridiculous right now.”

“All I know is that I have never felt this way in my life. Cassie, Jo, Lisa, none of them made me feel complete. None of them took away the gaping, endless void inside of me. I didn’t even think it was possible to feel this way, but here I am.”

Dean sounded distressed and that made my chest ache. I knew exactly how he was feeling since I had felt it since the moment we met. I had been trying to ignore the comfort and hope swelling inside me, but it was getting harder.

“Sounds like you’re talking about love at first sight or even soulmates.” Sam seemed more curious now than frustrated.

I took this opportunity to walk out from behind the wall divider, “Good morning.”

Dean’s eyes met me first bringing a warm smile to his handsome face, “Hey (Y/N), good morning. We didn’t wake you up?”

I shook my head feeling Sam’s gaze on me as I looked down at Dean’s Zeppelin t-shirt covering me, “Um I spilled spaghetti sauce on my last clean shirt. Dean was nice enough to let me borrow one of his.” I felt my face heating up as Sam nodded.

“Uh-huh.” He stood up walking towards me. Sam loomed over me pulling a flask from his jacket pocket, “Could you stick out your arm for me, please?”

I looked over to Dean who was rolling his eyes, “Sam it’s not necessary.”

“It is for me,” He looked at me as I brought my arm out and he poured what seemed to be water on my arm, “Okay, just a few more tests to go.”

I held a bandana from Dean over the small cut on my arm wincing, “What was that for?”

Sam wiped the blade on his jacket as Dean pushed him back gently. His vibrant olive eyes focused on tying the bandana, “Silver blade to make sure you’re not a werewolf or shapeshifter.”

“I’m sorry to be this way, but this whole situation is weird and I have to protect my brother,” Sam held his hand out to me, “It’s nice to meet you, (Y/N).”

I shook his hand, “Yeah, nice to meet you too. Look, as strange as you both think this is, I feel the same way.”

I made sure to look at Dean when I spoke and his eyes widened, “Really?”

I nodded, “There’s a connection here that I can’t explain. Frankly, I don’t care if it’s ever explained to me. All I know is that being with you feels right.”

Sam's disapproving grunt had us both looking to him, “I think we should do a little more research into this. We should definitely get back to the Bunker and maybe ask Rowena for some help.”

A soft meow came from the ground below as Serenity rubbed against Sam’s legs affectionately. He knelt down petting her and I was surprised to see her go belly up.

“Wow, you must be an animal lover because Serenity has never done that with anyone but me.” I knelt down as well petting her soft fur.

For the first time, I watched Sam let down his guard and chuckled, “I’m usually a dog person but hard to say no to a cat who accepts you.”

“Wonderful, you and the furball can take (Y/N)’s car while she and I ride in Baby.” Dean slipped his arm around my shoulders bringing me into his side.

Sam nodded silently as his eyes never left me. It felt as if he were trying to read me, but there was nothing to reveal. By late morning, we were on the road to Lebanon, Kansas. It would be at least a day’s travel to get there, which Dean reassured me that they had done longer trips than this before. We filled the time by talking about everything from childhoods to Winchester's most interesting hunts. When I would get sleepy, Dean would pull me into his side and turn on his favorite mixtape. Being with him was as easy as breathing to me.

After a few stops for food and gas, we finally hit the city limits of Lebanon. The small town looked straight out of a 50’s sitcom. As we drove out of the rustic town, we drove down a long paved drive behind what looked to be an abandoned building of some kind. I was shocked when we came upon a large set of doors that opened into a full stocked garage.

“Welcome home.” Dean said as he parked his car with Sam pulling up next to him.

The Men of Letters Bunker, as the brother called it, was massive. Sam happily told me the history of the secretive group and how their family tied into it. Dean walked by my side with his fingers laced with mine holding my hand. We came to a door with the number eleven on it and Dean pulled her inside.

“This is my room. Of course, it’s the coolest room here except for maybe the Fortress of Deanitude.”

I looked around at all the weapons displayed on the walls. His massive record collection was set up in bins. His desk contained a computer, a small lamp and a tiny picture. I picked it up seeing Dean who was a young child with a woman he looked familiar too.

He gently took the picture from my hand, “My mom and I. It’s the last picture of us together before she was killed,” he placed the picture back in its spot.

After getting Serenity and I settled into our new room, I found myself overcome with exhaustion. Laying down on my new bed with Serenity lying next to me, I feel into the most peaceful night of sleep I have had in awhile. Dreams of adventures with Dean filling my head.

***

Dean sat with Sam in the Library, a soft smile permanent etched onto his face. Sam’s nose was nearly pressed against his computer screen looking into (Y/N). He was waiting for Rowena to call him back when a familiar voice came from near the Bunker door.

“You would have to go find your soulmate and end the world, Winchester.”

Sam and Dean looked up to see Billie standing tall holding her scythe, her hard eyes glaring down at them.

If you enjoyed this story then check out my Masterlist!

My Nerd Herd: @waywardbaby @ladywinchester1967 @akshi8278 @ericaprice2008 @deans-baby-momma @spnbaby-67 @dean-winchesters-bacon @carryonmywaywardcaptain @-lovepeacenhope- @destiel745 @carribear31 @srsllydunnodoncare @whimsicalrobots @thisismysecrethappyplace @starstruckzonkoperatorbat @adoptdontshoppets @mrswhozeewhatsis @bella-ca @drakelover78 @imascio08 @pisces-cutie @dwgrl1903-blog @mannls @the-salty-asian @winchesterprincessbride @xostephanie @superromijn @witch-of-letters @time-travel-bouqet @screechingartisancashbailiff @myinconnelly1 @sister-winchesters99 @thekatherinewinchester @maddiepants @tumbler-tidbits @sandlee44 @destielhoneybee @jerkbitchidjitassbutt @thefaithfulwriter @stoneyggirl @supernaturalginger @emoryhemsworth @wednesdayismyfunday @team-free-will-you-idjiot @atc74 @cosicas-cuquis @casseythebee

#dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester #READ THE WARNINGS #angst #mentions of self hate #talk of suicide #fluff

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fang-wolfsbane · 3 years ago

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Transformers Animated: Morning After: Chapter 02: Recruitment, Sir?

“Congratulations young cadet. You’ve made it as an official medic for the Autobot alliance. Only a few have ever made it to your position, so be proud of yourself and work hard.”

Those had been the words from Highdrive’s commanding officer the moment he stepped out of the Autobot Academy for Medics – A.A.M. for short. The moment he graduated, Highdrive had been certain that he was going to land a position within the Elite Guard, training amongst the best of the best to serve his home planet, Cybertron.

As third in his class, he had nothing but a promising future ahead of him, until an incident within the academy dorms had cost him a far grater demotion than he had thought necessary. He had been clearing out his dorm room for the next occupant when some of his fellow students had suggested that they play one last prank on their teacher as a farewell gift. Highdrive had been reluctant at first, but not wanting to be the odd one out, he’d gone with them. The idea had been to liquify the classroom hallway from one end to the other. A harmless prank, right? He had never been so wrong.

Not only had they used energon – the very life fuel they all needed to survive – but the teacher had indeed slipped on the wet floor, tumbled out of a carelessly left open window, broke not only their entire right leg apart, but had hit their helm hard enough to cause a crack within their CPU. A security guard had heard the commotion, and before Highdrive could even think of turning to ask his so-called fellow classmates what they would do about the situation, he was the only one left behind in the entire building.

It took some heavy convincing from one of his other teachers to get him a lighter punishment than he knew he deserved, but at this point he supposed it was the best he could hope to. When he was told he was to be the assistant medic on a space bridge repair ship, he tried to convince himself that it was a learning experience. He would have preferred the stockade.

With a personal escort, probably to ensure that he didn’t try and make a break for it, Highdrive had walked into the hanger where the repair ship was waiting. It was big, there was no denying that, and old… very old. How the bots in control of the ship expected it to be able to fly was a question all on its own.

Transforming alongside his escort, Highdrive was handed off to the commanding medic he’d be serving under. An old rust bucket whose white and red paint job certainly looked like it had seen far better stellar cycles. Highdrive visibly flinched to himself, not wanting to think of what his mother would have said if she’d heard him think so ill of a bot he was supposed to learn from. It was only because of his status as a medical student that he’d been kept from getting a permanent smack on his name.

Walking up to the bot, Highdrive tried to hide a visible flinch as he held his servo out towards the older mech. In reality, their colours weren’t that different. Highdrive himself sported orange in place of the other mech’s red. In all the stellarcycles he’d spent at the academy, he’s noticed a similar scheme to all of them. He supposed that when it came to saving lives, something bright coming to the rescue was a sign of reassurance to the one awaiting assistance.

Right, that was what he had been supposed to do when he joined the academy. Save lives, not ruin them…

“Uh, it’s nice to meet you sir. My name is-”

“This the kid?” the mech before him grunted, ignoring the outstretched servo, focusing his attention solely on the bot beside him. Highdrive blinked, reigning in the urge to curl his servo into a fist as he lowered his arm back to his side. There was no doubt that the mech had heard all about Highdrive’s reason for joining – if you could call it that.

His escort nodded, and with a muttered ‘good luck’ in the old bot’s direction, turned on his ped and casually strode off, only seeming to glad that Highdrive wasn’t his problem to deal with anymore. Unlike his fist, his distain at the thought couldn’t be hidden from displaying itself on his faceplate.

“Better learn to grind your dentals here kid, or you aren’t going to last long,” were the mech’s first words to him as he turned and went back over to what Highdrive assumed to be an exterior control panel. Assumed being the key word. He could name each and every single component of a bot – even a Decepticon’s because of the few specimens from the war they’d been allowed to study – and give a list of their functions and possible malfunctions, but to take care of a ship? Surely the medic didn’t expect him to learn to do that too, did he?

Shaking his thoughts free from his CPU, Highdrive found himself jogging after the mech. “Y-Yes sir!”

“Sir, huh?” the other bot mused, stopping momentarily as a pair of pinchers revealed themselves from his forearm. It took all Highdrive’s self-control not to ask how long the other had his medical upgrade. Highdrive had been scheduled to receive his within the next week, or he would have, if the whole ordeal with his teacher hadn’t happened. Goodbye upgrade. “Haven’t heard that in a long time.”

“Is… is it a problem, sir?” Highdrive asked, shifting on his peds a little unsurely. “I could-”

“No. No… it’s fine. It shows you at least have some form of respect left in you,” the mech said, getting to work on the panel. Highdrive knew he failed at keeping the smile off his lips, taking the other’s words as a compliment, whether they were meant to come across that way or not.

“My name is Highdrive, sir. I’ll be looking forward to learning from you.”

“Ratchet,” the old bot introduced himself, frowning as he concentrated on his current task.

“That’s a pretty cool name,” Highdrive said, his smile growing until Ratchet’s blue optics focused on him, a clear, silent warning within them. He found himself taking a step back, yelping when he lost his footing and fell back onto his aft over an open toolbox carelessly left on the floor. As careless as freshly spilled energon in a dark hallway.

“Hey, watch it!” Ratchet scolded. Highdrive flinched, assuming the glare to be fixated on him until the floor began trembling as another bot, nearly three or four times his own size came bouncing over like a spry scraplet.

“Sorry Ratchet,” the bot said, one of his peds narrowly avoiding stepping on Highdrive’s digits. Yanking them away just in time almost had his spark stop. Breathing through his vents, Highdrive tilted his helm back far enough to study the army-green mech. From his build, he had probably enlisted in the military, though his supposed clumsiness left much to thought.

“Saying sorry won’t fix this ship if you break another welding wrench – again,” Ratchet hissed through gritted dentals. The bigger bot lowered his helm in shame before his own traditional Autobot blue optics whirred as they zoomed in on Highdrive’s faceplate.

“Oh, hey there! You must be the new bot,” the bulky bot said, now fully focused on, well, ‘the new bot’ as he put it. “Here, let me help you up,” and before Highdrive could even think to protest, he was yanked onto his peds by a lightly throbbing arm. He made a mental note to check his arm over for any possible dents later. “Sorry if I scared ya. I’m Bulkhead.”

“H-Highdrive,” Highdrive said, managing a nervous smile as his servo subconsciously rubbed over the previously grabbed area. Yup, there were definitely a couple of dents he’d need to buff out when he got the chance. “And no worries.”

That seemed to be enough to satisfy Bulkhead, if his smiling jawline was anything to go by. A nano sec later, he was blinking, all giddy again like a sparkling overdosed on sweetened energon. “Oh, you haven’t met Bee yet! Come on, I’ll introduce you!”

Before Highdrive could blink, he was swept up by the large Autobot and taken inside the old ship like some guest of honour. The tight squeeze holding him in place against Bulkhead’s frame was enough to warn him not to get on the other’s bad side.

“Hey Bumblebee! The new bot’s here!” Bulkhead excitedly announced as he took them into what seemed like the command room. In the commander’s chair was a slim, yellow, and grey mech, taking a stasis nap. He couldn’t be the commander, could he? Not wanting to risk upsetting his new superior on his first day, Highdrive took the plunge.

“Uh, it’s g-good to meet you, sir,” Highdrive managed to wheeze out.

“Sir?’ both Bulkhead and the smaller bot – Bumblebee – repeated, blinking at him in surprise as if he had just told them he himself was their commanding officer. Highdrive flinched, instantly regretting his assumption.

“Are you not the commander?”

“Pft, no,” Bumblebee sneered, casually flipping his peds up on the dashboard. All too comfortable with occupying the commanding seat, despite his lack in both title and possibly qualifications.

“Then why are you…?” Highdrive trailed off after noticing the way Bumblebee’s optics seemed to darken. A sore spot. A wound better left untouched. “Noted…”

“So, what frag-up got you here?” Bumblebee asked, getting to his peds, and resting his servos on his hip plating once Bulkhead deemed it safe to release his hold on Highdrive.

“I’d… rather not talk about it, if you don’t mind,” Highdrive admitted, pretending to find an interest in dust that decided the corner was a good place spot to begin its invasion.

Bumblebee casually shrugged his shoulders, pulling over a mop and bucket from who knows where, and shoved them right into Highdrive’s servos. “You’re on clean up duty. Doc bot says we gotta get this old dump clean before the new Prime gets here.”

Highdrive blinked. “Prime?”

“Uh, yeah,” Bumblebee frowned, arching an optic ridge in question, “do you not know what a Prime is?”

“Of course I know what a Prime is,” Highdrive found himself hissing back, earning a surprised blink from the shorter mech. All Cybertronians knew what Primes were. He’d have had to online on some far away organic planet to not know about something so simple about their planet’s culture. Slag, even the Decepticons knew what a Prime was, even if they themselves haven’t been around for eons after the war ended with the Autobots coming out on top. Breathing air out through his vents, Highdrive straightened himself out. “Why is a Prime coming here though? Is there some inspection or something?”

“Nope. Doc bot said he got demoted or something. That he’s lucky to still keep his title after whatever he did,” Bumblebee hummed, casting a glance up at Bulkhead, “though I guess we all are.”

Highdrive didn’t dare ask as he looked to the two objects in his servos. He had no idea Bumblebee could be so right.

#Fanfiction #Morning After #Transformers and tagged Animated #Autobots #Bulkhead #Bumblebee #Chapter #Decepticons #OC #Original Character #Ratchet #Transformers

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musicprincess655 · 4 years ago

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So this was written for the SamFlam Gift Exchange run by @watchsamuraiflamenco for @maid-of-the-golden-deer! I hope you like it.

“What do you think was the hardest part about when she went missing?” his therapist asks.

Hidenori resists the urge to scowl at her. He doesn’t like talking about her in general, the time she went missing in specific, and he doesn’t particularly want to talk about it now. But, as Mari has pointed out before, she’s not footing the bill for the best trauma therapist in the city for him to sit there and glare at her, so he sighs and tries to give her a real answer.

“I didn’t...know,” he starts, halting, because he’s never been asked to put it into words before, never been asked to do anything but grieve and then get over it, and he didn’t even manage to do that right. “I didn’t know what happened. I didn’t know if she was dead, or maybe she needed my help because she was stuck somewhere, or maybe kidnapped. Or maybe she wasn’t in trouble at all. Maybe that time she said she’d drop out of school and run away and join a wandering theater troupe, maybe she wasn’t kidding like I thought she was. Maybe she was happy. But I didn’t know.”

The thing is, intellectually, Hidenori knows what he’s doing, knows he’s the one sending messages between him and her. It’s a trick of knowing without knowing, thinking around himself, and it sounds hard, but he’s just so used to it, like his brain’s run itself into ruts he can’t quite get out of. He’s getting...better at acknowledging it, but better isn’t good, not yet.

Maybe he should feel guilty for using the memory of a girl he loved to soothe everything he feels, but he’s not there yet, either.

“So, lack of closure, then,” his therapist says. Her name is Tsukino, and instead of the kind-eyed older woman he expected her to be, she’s only ten years older than him, and remarkably good at not putting up with his nonsense. It had grated on him when this started, but he recognizes it makes her a pretty perfect fit for him. “The text messages give you some kind of closure? Allow you to know?”

It’s a difficult line of questioning. Sometimes, Hidenori is okay with exploring the fact that he’s the one sending messages from her phone. Sometimes he retreats behind his ability to not know that, and any questions on that topic are useless.

He’s willing to at least give it a shot today.

“I guess,” he says.

“And what if you were to get real closure?” she asks. “Even if it was bad, do you think that would still be better than not knowing?”

And just like that, Hidenori is done giving this a shot for today.

“We’re...taking a break.”

It’s been a year since she started her trip, and Hidenori has had varying success with distancing himself from her. He’d sent her a message last week - him to her, not the other way around - asking to take a break for a while, since they hadn’t seen each other in so long.

“Is that because of someone else in your life?” Tsukino asks.

Yes, Hidenori thinks, and waits to feel guilty, and doesn’t.

“Maybe,” he says instead.

Tsukino lets the non-answer slide, and shifts her position.

“How’s Masayoshi doing?” she asks.

This is easy. Hidenori could talk about Masayoshi for their entire sessions if he wanted.

“Oh, you wouldn’t believe the trouble that idiot found himself in this time,” he says, rolling his eyes fondly. “Listen to the wild idea he came up with…”

***

Despite what the media would have everyone believe, Masayoshi has interests other than superheroes. Sure, they’ll always be his favorites, but he managed to hold a pretty demanding job for years before all the Samurai Flamenco stuff started, and he does things other than sit in his house and watch superhero movies. Just because that happens to be his favorite thing to do doesn’t mean he doesn’t do other things.

Take now, for instance. He’s plastered to Hidenori’s side, pointing out where cherry blossoms are starting to bud. It’s at least a month until they bloom, but Masayoshi is excited anyway. He’s not exactly like a little kid, but the simple joy he takes from something so small could be pretty easily called childish. Hidenori thinks he might find Masayoshi too naive if he didn’t know this is Masayoshi’s way of taking a break from all his World President duties.

Sometimes, not even superhero shows can cut it when what Masayoshi really needs is a change of pace.

“We should bring a picnic when they bloom,” Masayoshi says.

“You know curry isn’t a very good picnic food, right?” Hidenori teases.

“Goto-san!” Masayoshi complains. “I can cook other things now!”

“Sure you can,” Hidenori says, but it’s unbearably fond even in his own ears. “I’ll just end up making sandwiches myself.”

“You’d do that?”

“Sure.”

It’s so easy to agree to when he knows Masayoshi’s eyes will light up at the promise. Masayoshi likes to take care of people, likes to be the reason they’re happier, the reason they’re okay, but it’s only more reason that he needs someone to look after him.

It’s the real reason Hidenori started going to therapy in the first place. Sure, Mari hounded him up and down about it because it had worked so well for her, she and Moe have never been happier, at least give it a chance Goto-san. In the end, though, it took Mari pulling out her trump card.

“You can’t belong to him if you still belong to her,” she’d said, nodding at an oblivious Masayoshi talking to Moe.

And God, but Hidenori wanted to belong to Masayoshi. Wanted them to belong to each other.

So he called the therapist she recommended, and when he balked at the cost, Mari offered to cover all the costs. Hidenori had protested - he’s an adult, and this is a decision he made for himself, he won’t accept charity - but Mari wouldn’t hear of it, insisting it was her gift in gratitude for the kindness he’d shown her.

And. Well. She did live in his closet for a good long while.

“Do you think we have to plan early to get a good spot?” Masayoshi asks. “Won’t there be a lot of people?”

“It probably won’t hurt to plan ahead,” Hidenori agrees.

“Should we invite people?”

“It might get complicated to plan around everyone’s schedules.” And Hidenori kind of wants this to be a date for just him and Masayoshi.

“Still…” Masayoshi trails off as Hidenori’s phone rings. “Are you expecting a call?”

“No,” Hidenori says, pulling it out. Usually, the only people who call him are work or his mother. Sure enough, his mother’s contact information is on the screen. “I’ll take this quickly.”

His mother probably just has something she wants him to come down and fix, or she wants him to come down more often in general.

“When are you going to be back?” she asks as soon as they finish exchanging greetings.

“Mom,” Hidenori sighs. “We’re talked about this. I have a job, I can’t just leave whenever I want-”

“You haven’t been watching the news?” she asks, surprised obvious in his voice.

“From back home?” Hidenori asks. Why should he? She always tells him the town gossip whether he wants it or not. “No, not really.”

“But it’s about…” she trails off, and takes a deep breath. “They found a body.”

***

So, as it turns out, all that stuff people say about going numb in times of trauma is less true than anything has any right to be. All that stuff about feeling like nothing is real? Yeah, Hidenori wishes.

He can’t remember anything feeling more real.

By the time he makes it back home, preparations are already complete for the funeral. He doesn’t actually get to see the body. Not that he’d be able to recognize anything if he had. After all these years, she would have only been a skeleton. They’d have identified her through dental records.

He did bully a local policeman into taking him out to where a couple of kids playing in the woods found her body. He had a vivid memory of that exact spot. He must have passed right by her and never noticed in the search.

I could have given you this earlier, he thinks. He looks over at her parents. There are a few tears in her mother’s eyes, but not the unrestrained grief most people would expect of a mother losing a child. Her parents had mourned the loss of their daughter in a way Hidenori never could. I could have given you the closure you needed back then.

But in the end, he’s the only one that needed the closure.

Hidenori expected to be a mess at the funeral. He was certainly a mess when she first went missing. He remembers crying, remembers cutting himself off from everyone who tried to help him.

But having everything come together like this, losing any way to pretend it’s not real, and feeling everything he never allowed himself to work through all those years ago, it’s almost like it shorts him out. He stands there, unmoving, unflinching, as the storm rages inside him. He wishes the funeral would go by in a blur, but he feels every excruciating moment, right until he’s the last one left by her grave.

He doesn’t have a coping mechanism for this.

As stuck in the moment as he is, he’s instantly aware of the warm weight at his shoulder. Masayoshi leans into his shoulder, not enough to push, but just enough to let Hidenori know he’s there.

“She’s gone,” Hidenori says. His voice doesn’t sound like him. “All this time, she was just gone.”

And then all the grief he didn’t work through all those years ago crashes too hard, and the tears start coming.

Masayoshi pulls him into a hug, tucking Hidenori’s face into his shoulder. Hidenori clings to him and sobs, awful, heaving things that wrack his body and pound his ribs, the physical manifestation of a grief that was pushed down for far too long. He holds tight like Masayoshi can keep him from breaking apart, and maybe he can, maybe he’s still the hero he always has been.

Masayoshi never lets him go.

“I can’t make it go away,” Masayoshi says. “But I can stay. I’m not going anywhere.”

“You can’t…” Hidenori gulps. The worst of the sobs are done, and now he’s just soaking Masayoshi’s suit. “You can’t fight this off.”

“I know,” Masayoshi says. “But you still don’t have to do it alone.”

Hidenori just holds on, and as his crying finally stops, he feels a quiet inside himself that hasn’t been there in years.

***

“Hey, so, happy thirtieth birthday,” Hidenori says, laying a bouquet of flowers at her grave. “It’s supposed to be a big deal.”

“Goto-san, help me with the food,” Masayoshi calls.

“Yes, stop spacing out and help your husband,” his mother chides. Hidenori turns to see Masayoshi struggling with the containers, trying to pass food to everyone at once, and her parents chuckle at his antics.

Maybe it’s strange to have this picnic with his parents and the parents of his ex-girlfriend, but it’s become routine over the years. Hidenori comes out to lay flowers on her grave on her birthday every year, and allows any grief he has inside him to come out, and when he’s done, the people who loved her remember her.

And the horrible ocean of grief that lives inside him gets smaller as the years pass, becomes something quiet, something that shaped him but not something that defines him.

Masayoshi never left. Hidenori never expected him to break that promise. He’s still here, and so is Hidenori, and they can say goodbye to her and step forward together into the future, and that, Hidenori thinks, is a life. That’s what it’s made of. Stepping forward, and doing it together, and spilling rice on the counter or sauce on their hands and laughing and cleaning up and crying and moving on.

This is a life. It’s the one he built. It’s the one he’ll keep.

#samflam exchange 2020 #masagoto #samurai flamenco #my writing

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uovoc · 5 years ago

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Jon does his best, but he’s still only human. Well, humanish. Based on a true human. They can have omniscience, or they can have Jon, but not both at the same time. Consequently, Jon still has that most human of traits: he makes mistakes.

Case in point: the merry horde of flesh-creatures having the time of their lives chasing two grubby Englishmen across the rolling countryside. It's probably karmic payback for all the foxhunting that used to happen here.

"Are you sure," Martin puffs, "that you haven't got any karate moves" – gasp, pant, leap over a small bush – "stuffed into your brain somewhere?"

Also on AO3

Out of all the fears, Martin decides, Beholding is the most fucking useless one to have as a patron. All right, Elias was legitimately scary, but even he had other people do his dirty work for him. The Eye is all well and good for evil masterminding, but when it comes to practical skills? Nothing! Nada! Not a lick of actual, useful powers when you need them.

This is not a judgment upon Jon in any way. Jon has been doing his best. He warns them about the upcoming crap they have to deal with and whether any given stopping place is likely to kill them within the next 10 minutes. God knows they wouldn't have been able to make it this far without him acting as their tour guide. Martin refuses to credit Beholding for their continued existence. That has all been Jon, cracking open his door again and again to let in the oncoming tide. No, Beholding would have been perfectly happy to let them burn in whichever circle of hell they stumbled into first. It would have been happy to let Martin burn, anyway.

"Are you sure," Martin puffs, "that you haven't got any karate moves" – gasp, pant, leap over a small bush – "stuffed into your brain somewhere?"

Jon gulps and nods. His state of relative invulnerability has not, unfortunately, improved his base level of physical conditioning. He died an office monkey, and now he lives again as an escaped office monkey. No rippling abs for this avatar.

In contrast, the things chasing them have rippling abs out the wazoo. They also evidently have never skipped leg day, or arm day for that matter. Brain day does not seem to have made it into their training schedule, though. Jon had tried to do his Archivist bit when they had first attracted the attention of the gang, but had run into an impenetrable wall of blank stupidity. The whole debacle has Jared Hopworth written all over it.

Martin and Jon pelt over a rise in the land and the sloping meadow opens up ahead of them. They’re treated to a lovely view of gold-green field peppered with taller tufty bits, complete with a second band of flesh creatures coming round to cut them off in front. Despite being too brainless for statements, the things apparently can still execute strategic maneuvers. There is just no justice in the world anymore.

Jon and Martin stumble to a halt. From behind them comes the rumble of meaty hands and feet hitting dirt as the rest of the pack catches up. Jesus, they’re even waxed. Martin frantically flips through his mental catalog of their packs, searching for something combat-worthy. Matches? Dental floss? Beside him, Jon has gone very still as he draws upon his own resources. Martin feels a telltale prickling on the back of his neck, and the static rises around them like pressure in an airplane cabin.

The flesh horde senses an avatar at work and hesitates. The static builds until Martin can barely think. He stuffs his fingers in his ears and braces.

Static.

More static.

Static with a side of static.

He glances over at Jon, who has beads of sweat standing out on his face. "Any minute now," yells Martin.

The horde shuffles uncertainly. They've lost their initial wariness and are edging closer. When none of them are immediately blasted into smithereens, they start to move in for real.

We need to get out of here, Martin thinks desperately as the wall of glistening biceps begins to blot out the sky. We need to leave–

Martin grabs Jon's arm. The flesh horde lunges. Martin steps in, pulling Jon with him. The horde closes on empty space.

Their prey is gone.

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

The static fades by degrees. Martin gradually loosens his grip and lets Jon extract his face from being smushed into Martin's torso. They have not been torn from limb to limb. They are no longer in the rolling green hills. Instead they are… Somewhere. Here.

Martin runs through their litany of usual checks.

“No injuries here. You?”

“I’m-I’m fine too.”

"Are we in immediate danger?"

"… No."

"Is there anything in the vicinity that could cause us harm?"

"Nn... Probably not. Not right away."

Are we safe, Martin wants to ask, but he knows the answer to that one. The best he can hope for is to be safe for now.

For now, they are standing in a place. Looking up, he sees blank white brightness. When he takes a step, his footprint leaves a divot that fills with water before melting back into smooth sand. Jon is turning around slowly on the spot, taking in their new surroundings. It's flat, but not quite featureless. The bare sand is textured with gentle ripples, with the occasional sheen of puddled water. It stretches away from them into the vague distance. There is a damp haze hanging at about the height of their shins that smears the horizon line into the sky.

Jon has finished acclimating – archiving, Martin's brain hisses at him, but he pushes that thought away – and is ready to take a more active part in their newest adventure. He looks over at Martin. "Did you do this?" he asks.

"I-I think so?" Just what this is, Martin isn't quite sure, but he has a pretty good suspicion. He sighs. "We should probably get going. I don't think it's healthy to stay here too long." Martin reaches out his hand, but it closes on empty air. Jon's arms have not moved from his sides. "What is it?"

Jon says, "I don't want to go back out there."

“Neither do I, but we haven’t got much choice about it,” Martin points out. They’re going to have to run the gauntlet whether they like it or not, all to get to the stupid Institute that they had worked so hard to leave.

“I know, but can we –" Jon swallows. "Can we stay? A little longer?" He closes his eyes. "Please. It's, it's quiet here. I can think. It's so quiet."

"Jon –"

Martin doesn't know he should say to this request.

Are we in immediate danger?

No.

"Just for a little while," says Martin.

Everywhere looks like everywhere else, so they choose a spot at random and ease themselves down. Martin immediately feels the dampness seeping into his butt. Jon leans against him and closes his eyes. Martin isn't sure what that means. Sleep is unlikely, so he chooses to interpret it as a generic resting state. He finds himself straining to hear the sound of nonexistent waves. At some point in his life, grade school probably, someone taught him that the ocean disappearing meant that you should run for your life. A tsunami seems out of character for this place, but he raises the issue to Jon just in case.

“The ocean was Peter Lukas’s,” says Jon without opening his eyes. “It’s not coming back.”

Everything is equally flat, no subtle slope to show which way the water went. It’s equally impossible to tell which direction is uphill, for that matter. Relatively safe as they may be, Martin thinks it’s a little too quiet.

"There's no one here anymore," says Jon, not helping. His eyes are still closed.

Martin waits to see where this is going. If it starts turning into a statement, he'll have to deploy fingers in ears.

Sure enough, after a suitably dramatic silence, Jon opens his mouth again. Martin has his hands halfway to the sides of his head, but Jon addresses him directly. "Martin. This could be your place. You could take it. We could stay here. We wouldn't have to, to go through… out there. We don't have to leave. Martin?"

Martin doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t have to.

Jon deflates. "I know," he says. "I just had to say it."

“It’s all right,” says Martin.

They lapse back into companionable silence. Martin runs his hands through Jon's hair. Jon is thinking Jon-thoughts, which he has the privilege of being able to share in his own time, if he wants to. Martin will let him enjoy that luxury. Martin is thinking about the satisfying smack of his fist hitting Jonah Magnus’s smug face. He keeps that smack in a special place in his heart, ready to pull out as a treat whenever they get a bit of downtime.

He’ll make that scene happen soon. They’ve gone through more than half the fears already. The left hook will just be a preamble, of course. He’ll figure out the rest when they get there.

When they reach the tower.

#uovoc fic #The Magnus archives

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writeyourownlifestory · 4 years ago

Text

SUCKER PUNCHED

Chapters: 4/9 Fandom: IT Rating: M Warnings: Mention of past child // psychological abuse, Fight Club!au, mentions of suicide attempt. Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Beverly Marsh/Ben Hanscom Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, learning to love yourself

Tag list: @richietoaster, @beproudtozier, @that-weird-girls-blog, @s-onora, @s-s-georgie, @bellarosewrites, @iamcupcakefrosting, @reddieonwheels, @ghostnebula, @madidraw @madi-main, @gazebobullshit, @thoughtfullyyoungduck, @airbenderking, @ambitiousskychild

By the time Eddie was 13, he was allergic to peanuts, tree nuts, and several cooking oils. By 15, he had never swum in gym class and never went to a friend’s birthday party or had one of his own. By 16, Eddie knew that he liked looking at boys rather than looking at girls, though that didn’t seem to matter at the time. By 18, he had graduated high school and that was the end of his social life. And by 21, Eddie’s life had been torn to pieces.

He was a victim of Munchausen syndrome by proxy and now left without a mother, without a home, and without a clue. On top of being told he should go to group therapy, his caseworker had also suggested doing something to blow off some steam. Join a book club or go to the gym. Or maybe join a need-to-know based fight club. Either or.

Chapters one, two, three

As it turned out, Eddie didn’t have much to lose after all.

He tried to think of a couple of things that would make it into a good excuse not to go to the gym, but he kept coming up empty. He did need to start working out and getting healthy. Sure, his mom pumped him up with supplements and protein, but that didn’t make him healthy. He was walking everywhere nowadays, so his legs were getting a good hit, but what about his arms?

Sure, he had to carry the heavy boxes at the store and lifted a few of them while restocking, but he knew he could do better. It wasn’t like he was getting thrown into the ring after all. He would hit a few machines and lift a few weights. Nothing worth bragging about.

After coming home from work, he hung around the house for a little bit, having nothing else really to do. Ben and Beverly were going to see a movie and while they had invited him to tag along, he declined, claiming he had something he had to take care of. The two had done everything they could to not make him feel like he was the third wheel, but sometimes two people just needed to be alone, whether they were a couple or not.

Mrs. Hanscom was working late, so he had the house to himself for a little while. He lasted about twenty minutes before he threw in the towel and changed from his work shirt and jeans into a plain tee-shirt and shorts. He locked the door behind him and made his way into town, down Main street and up to the gym.

He looked through the window, finding it somewhat empty for the night. He guessed even gym rats had something else to do on a Friday night. There were only a couple of guys inside and after a few minutes of just standing there, he finally entered.

Richie was off in the morning, doing a handful of genetic stretches on the mat. Eddie didn’t want to think of how often, or lack thereof, the mat was wiped down just like the rest of the machines.

Eddie liked to keep it clean, as it was something they would do every week back when he was living with his mother. Sonia Kaspbrak wasn’t one with OCD, but it was a chance for them to bond together. Wiping everything down with Lysol was a great way to get rid of any common germs and Eddie had learned from a very early age how to disinfect and keep order.

“Eds!” Richie called out upon spotting him.

“It’s Eddie.” He retorted, already wondering if he had made the right decision.

“Eds is short for Eddie.”

“And Eddie is already short for Edward.”

“Richie is short for Richard. Wanna know something even shorter?”

“If you say your dick, I’m leaving.”

Richie gasped, placing his hand over his chest as he faked shock and dismay. “Edward! How could you? Why would I ever lie about my penis like that?”

“Beep, Beep, Richie.” Eddie stared at him, blank and unimpressed. “Can we get this over with?”

“Don’t sound so depressed, Eds. You’re spending your night with a certified hottie.” Adjusting his headband, he brought Eddie over to the machine. He gave a quick rundown of what it was called and how to use it. “This is a rower. Like a boat, all right? Hold onto that, keep your legs straight, you’re gonna lean back and well, row.”

“Doesn’t sound too bad.”

Richie chuckled, slapping his shoulder before adjusting the weight.

The machine turned out to be a nightmare as it required a hell of a lot more muscles than Eddie thought he was capable of using. Even in a lighter setting, he felt like he was straining himself just to be able to keep up. He did a couple of sets or reps, whatever Richie called them before Richie moved him onto the next machine.

He hadn’t brought water or anything to keep him hydrated so he had to stick with the tiny paper cups from the water cooler in the corner. He tried not to think about how many times that water was changed out. He was too parched to taste the bland, staleness of old water.

When the first hour passed they took a small break. They sat against the mirrors, watching the other guys who came to work out do their sets. “So, any chance of you becoming a gym rat like the rest of us?” Richie asked him, resting his chin on his bent knees.

Eddie was very doubtful that he’d ever willingly want to work out. Ever would willingly want to sweat into his clothes and strain his muscles until he was left tired and aching.

He remembered his mother shaking her head whenever the Olympics would come around and they’d sit by the television and watch all the competitions. Sonia would comment about how they would work so hard just for one chance at winning.

“All of that hard work for nothing,” she would comment whenever they lost. Eddie, the innocent one, who always tried to be optimistic, reminded her about the winners. “They might have won but how long will that last? Trust me, Eddie-Bear. They will lose that shapely body soon enough and get addicted to opioids just like every other former star.”

She turned the television off after that. Very rarely did they watch anything that contained athletes or anything other than game shows and children’s programming. It’s a mystery Eddie turned out even half okay after having a woman like that as his only companion for so long.

He wondered what his mother would be thinking if she knew where he was. If she knew her precious little boy was sweating and working out on machines that hadn’t been cleaned and drinking water almost from the tap.

“How much is it?” Eddie questioned, deciding to throw caution to the wind.

It wound up only costing Eddie fifteen bucks a month to join. He found that to be pretty decent on account of it being a small private gym.

A small group of women came in and greeted Richie as Eddie was signing up. They flashed their teeth at him and Richie commented, calling them pearly white and magnificent. Eddie brushes his teeth every morning and every night, always flossing in between and using that terrible tasting mouthwash whenever he could. Dental hygiene was important and taking care of his mouth was one thing Eddie took pride in even after leaving his mother’s house.

Once his membership was started, Eddie hung around for a few minutes after, using the hand weights that were in the corner. He found himself watching as Richie went around the room, helping out those who needed it. He had a way about him that even if you had just met him, he’d find a way to get under your skin. Whether or not it was in a good way all depended on Richie but that was his style.

They left together after another half hour. Eddie was tired and he knew he would be sore in the morning.

“Now that you joined maybe we could become gym buddies?” Richie had suggested, playfully bumping their shoulders together as they walked down the street.

They did become gym buddies, much to Eddie’s dismay. His body aches for days after the first trip and he had become very comfortable with standing in the freezers of the grocery store on days when he felt extra sore.

Richie didn’t go easy on him but he also knew not to test his limits. They found a routine that worked for them both and on days when Richie couldn’t make it or their schedules just couldn’t line up, Ben and Beverly were more than happy to tag along with him.

It may not have been his intention of becoming a gym rat but he found himself going two to three times a week. Any night when he wasn’t in the mood to just sit back and watch tv or read a book or do a puzzle.

He also went out to the farm to watch a fight now and then. He still didn’t understand it that much, the rapid appeal of going head to head with another person, but it was another excuse to get out of the house and socialize.

Eddie found himself doing a lot of things he wouldn’t have thought he would do before coming. He was eating new foods all the time, trying different things.

He was making his own choices, going out to buy his clothes with Beverly in tow. She didn’t choose anything for him but gave her the best intel since she had a thing for fashion.

He found his sense of style for the first time. He found his sense of reality for the first time. Making his own choices and doing things he wanted to do without worrying if he would get in trouble or he would make his mommy angry.

It hadn’t been what Eddie expected when he first arrived in Bangor. Trying to move on from the life he once lived wasn’t easy but the alternative wasn’t much better.

He had spoken up about it during one of the group meetings. He was half listening, not even sure what the topic was but nobody else commented. It was obvious the director was feeling a bit dejected and thought well, why not?

“We try to find a middle ground. Between the life, we lived before breaking away and the life we’ve been thrown into now that we're out of that situation. It’s not easy. May not even be possible but, it’s worth trying right?”

“That’s right, Mr. Kaspbrak. That’s exactly right.”

“Look at you making an impression in the group,” Beverly mentioned as they left.

Eddie didn’t want a pat on the back for coming up with something that made sense or for just being honest. He knew everybody had been through something similar and he wasn’t going to pretend like he had done or said anything poetic. If they didn’t find something to hold onto, something to shape their life around, then what was the point of having a life, to begin with?

“Are you seeing Richie tonight?” Beverly asked.

He was but not for the gym. The old theatre was playing some old-time movies and Richie thought it would be good for Eddie to see them. He had blown a gasket when he found out Eddie hadn’t seen Titanic and Back to the Future so they had begun to have designated movie nights.

Sometimes they would invite Ben and Beverly and on other nights it would be a rude group thing. The sorry lot of Bangor Maine had welcomed Eddie in without a second thought and they planned on spending the remaining days of their summer before Bill and Stan went back to school out of state enjoying every part of this.

They had shown him all different types of movies, from black and white classics to modern horror. They were widening his horizon film-wise and he found that it was a great way to spend his night.

On this particular night, it was just Richie and himself, watching the classic film Singin’ in the Rain. Richie insisted he wasn’t a dancer in any way but he has a passion for Gene Kelly and Donald O’Connor.

The movie itself was rather grand and Eddie wondered why his mother hadn’t allowed him to watch it. Perhaps the dancing ladies were a bit too much but he found it to be enjoyable.

They found their way to the diner afterward, sitting in the far corner away from sight. Richie ordered waffles even though it was nearly eleven pm, asking for syrup, and whipped cream, and peanut butter all on top.

Richie was rambling on about the film they had just seen and then suggesting a few others along the way. “I certainly can’t believe you’ve never seen Star Wars man. Not even like on tv or something during the holidays?”

“I wasn’t given a lot of screen time, Rich.” Eddie reminded him.

He had opened up to Richie slowly over the weeks of them knowing each other. Ben hadn’t said much about his predicament other than his mother was overly protected and shielded him from the world. Eddie had been the one to tell Richie just how bad it had been in between their weekly gym meetups and regular hangouts.

Richie took it in stride, never once showing that he felt sorry for Eddie. He treated him just like every other person, apologizing only when a “your mom” joke slipped through his lips because old habits were hard to break.

“Seriously, dude. We’re watching it. You’re gonna come over to my place and I’m making you sit through it all.”

“Aren’t there like, six of them?”

“Technically nine bit the prequels aren't that important unless you want backstory and the newer ones are garbage. An only good thing to come out of them is the eye candy.” He placed his hand dramatically over his chest. “Oscar Isaac? Oh, be still my beating vagina.”

The waitress came over then, placing their food down between them.

“Did you just quote Mamma Mia 2?”

Richie slammed his fist down on the table, something that the waitress seemed completely unfazed by. “You haven’t seen Star Wars but you’ve seen Mamma Mia 2?!”

“And the first one. Mrs. Hanscom showed them to me.”

“You, Edward, have hurt me today. I don’t know how I’m gonna cope.” He announced and then proceeds to dig into his waffle.

Eddie ate his food, which consists of a simple grilled cheese. They had gotten popcorn at the theatre and he didn’t want to start pigging out just because he was working out more. He watched Richie gorge himself on the sloppy, crunchy waffle and found himself realizing he had never eaten a normal pancake or waffle.

Everything had been gluten-free, sugar-free. He never tried whipped cream or peanut butter. Due to his birthday being around the time of thanksgiving his mom would make him a fruit cake or sometimes a gelatin cake. He didn’t even know what real birthday cake tasted like.

“Can I ask you a weird question?” He asked suddenly. “Can I have a bite?”

“A bite?” Richie asked, his mouth still full from his bite.

“I’ve never had a waffle. I’ve never had peanut butter.”

Richie swallowed hard, shaking his head in despair. “Fuck, Eds. Your mom messed you up good, didn’t she?” He slid the plate over, knowing better than offering Eddie his fork to eat off of. “Knock yourself off.”

Eddie grabbed his fork and knife to cut off a small piece. It looked soggy and heavy, completely covered in the sticky substances. He took the bite slowly, chewing it down carefully. It was hard to describe; the ooey-gooey, nutty flavor mixed with the maple of the syrup and the creaminess of the whipped cream.

Richie was watching him intensely, ready to jump into action in the rare chance his mom wasn’t lying and he needed to inject him with an EpiPen just in case.

“Well?” He asked after a moment.

“Holy shit,” Eddie replied.

“Is that a good holy shit or bad holy shit?”

“A very good holy shit. Holy shit!”

“I know right? Delicious.”

“Disgustingly delicious.”

“Do you want your own?” Richie asked, already half turning down he could get their waitresses' attention.

“No.” Eddie decided. “I want Reece’s cup.”

“Yeah? We can get you one of those.”

And they did. After leaving the diner they went down to the nearest 7/11 and bought Eddie Reece’s cup and other assortments of candy that he had been deprived of his entire life.

They spent the rest of the night driving around, eating candy, and just laughing about the stupid shit going on in their town. It was nearly one am when Richie dropped Eddie off at home.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot Spaghetti,” Richie asked, shifting in the darkness of the car. He turned on the lights above them, giving them a chance to see one another.

“Why do you think Ben and Beverly aren’t together?” He asked carefully. “It’s obvious they like one another. Even I can see that.”

“You’re not the only one,” Richie chuckled dryly. “I think they’re scared. They don’t wanna lose what they had, you know? Good friendships are hard to come by.”

“What would you do?”

“In their situation?” Richie shifted once more, turning his body slightly, uncomfortable against the restraints of the seatbelt. “Oh boy. Well. Hmm.”

He laughed again, awkward this time around. He looked to Eddie, reaching up to adjust his glasses slightly.

“You kind of told me your own sob story, so I guess it’s only fair I tell you to mind.” He admitted, turning his face so he looked at Eddie somewhat properly. “Look. You know I’m gay right?” He asked then.

Eddie had more or less guessed it along the way. Richie had been very upfront with the flirting, but he also was like that with people of all sexes. Very open and bubbly. Eddie found it somewhat off-putting in the beginning. Eddie, who was so somber and quiet, who had been trained and conditioned to be this quiet, gentle soul like his mother wanted him to be was a very large contrast to Richie’s outwardly and blunt personality.

He had grown used to it over time, thanks to the spare chances they had been given to be around one another. It was still a lot for Eddie to get used to, but after the endless comments about certain male celebrities, it led Eddie to believe Richie leaned more towards one side than the other.

“I don’t make it very subtle,” Richie admitted, another quiet laugh slipping through his lips.

“Back when I was in high school, there was this guy. His name was Connor. We met at the arcade and we sort of . . . we became friends. Like, fast friends. And like Bev and Ben, we spent all our time together. Anyway, I sort of always knew I liked Han more than Leia, so it didn’t take long for me to become head over heels for him. We wound up going to prom together as friends. We hung around the bleachers and all I kept thinking about was wanting to dance with him, you know? Not even just slow dance but just get out there and move our bodies. To just dance with another guy! Later on, we went outside to smoke and on the way back in I stopped him. I just looked at him and couldn’t stop myself. I kissed him there in the hallway. And you know, for a split second I could have sworn he kissed me back.”

“But he didn’t?”

Richie shook his head, his tongue slipping across his dry lips nervously. “Someone spotted us. Soon everybody was gathering in the hallway to see what the queers were doing. He pushed me away and a fight started. He tried to choke me right there, surrounded by everybody until the teachers pulled him off me. He said some not so nice things.”

“What happened after?”

“I had to survive without my best friend. And I guess I didn’t know-how. Being called a faggot is one thing, but hearing how sick you are. Knowing the one person you care about most in the world thought you were better off dead. It’s hard to imagine otherwise. I decided to prove him right.”

“Rich….”

“That’s how I wound up at the gym. After tossing myself off a bridge and living to tell the tale, my parents put me through all sorts of therapy. One of them happened to be physical. I decided after that I wasn’t going to hide anymore. I’d be the real me, whether people liked it or not. I dialed it down a bit. I was an annoying little shit who used to do voices and stuff.”

“You still do that.”

Eddie could count on both hands how many times he would slip into some character while they were working out. Eddie first thought it was a way to egg him on and give him a bit of a push but he soon realized it was just Richie’s personality.

Richie didn’t seem like the type that would have done something like that. Had put himself in harm's way because of the sadness he kept. Eddie knew that it was something of a well-known fact. That some of the cheeriest people can be so dead inside. That the loudest voice could be the quietest call for help.

It made Eddie angry to know that someone Richie had held so dearly could treat him so badly. Could have turned on him for his issues. It didn’t make sense to him and all he could think about was wanting to know why.

“Thank you for telling me this,” Eddie told him.

Richie adjusted his glasses again, putting on a far genuine smile as he glanced back over to him. “So now that you know my villain origin story can I ask something about you?”

“Shoot.”

“What would you do?”

Eddie didn’t have an answer. It could have been easy to say just go for it but the reality was Eddie didn’t know if he would even make that leap. He got out of the car then, shrugging in response as he bid Richie a good night.

Eddie went to bed, surrounded by his sweet treats, falling asleep to the thoughts of Richie’s laughter and wondering what he would do in that position.

#Richie Tozier #Eddie Kaspbrak #Reddie #Reddie au #IT au #IT fanfic #Reddie Fanfic #Connor Bowers

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drummergirl231-2 · 6 years ago

Note

Ahhh you decided to do the thing! Okay, I’m giving you options! How about “I’m glad to have you home,” with Donald (because I am predictable) OR “Come here. I’ll fix it,” with Huey. I’m so so excited!!! 😝❤️

[link to AO3]

Huey set down the basket of cleanlaundry when he reached the top of the tower steps and tried to shake out the achein his arms. The basket wasn’t usually so heavy, but with all the excitementover the weekend, he was a few days behind his usual chore schedule. He pushedthe basket to his bedroom door with his foot to give his arms a rest and turnedthe doorknob with his less sore arm, only to be greeted by a startled yell fromDewey.

“IT WASN’T ME!”

It didn’t take a genius to know it washim, though what was wreaking havoc on his brother’s conscience, Huey had noidea. It probably had to do with whatever he’d obviously shoved under hispillow.

Huey rolled his eyes and pushed thelaundry basket to their dresser. “If it wasn’t you, who was it? Louie?”

“Uh… yeah! Louie! It was totally hisfault. I told him, ‘Don’t do it, Louie! You’re a better man than this! Lookdeep within your heart! That’s the real you! The real you would never–”

“What did you do, Dewey?” Huey staredhim down with one hand on the edge of an open drawer and waited.

Dewey darted his eyes back and forth,beads of sweat appearing on his forehead, but Huey wouldn’t look away until hehad answers. At last, Dewey couldn’t bare his guilt any longer.

“I broke Mom’s leg!”

“You WHAT?!” Huey clapped his hands to hisface. “Is she okay? Oh no, and she only has the one leg, and… wait.” Heremembered Dewey shoving something under his pillow. “Her natural leg, or herprosthesis?”

Dewey took a big breath and let it outwith a whine as he lifted his pillow and held up Della’s prosthesis in twopieces.

Huey slapped his own forehead, tornbetween frustration with Dewey and relief their mother wasn’t hurt.

“How’d it happen?”

“Okay, well… it was my turn to do thedusting in here, right?”

“Yeah…?”

“But I couldn’t find the duster with thelong handle! So I was thinking, Mom’s prosthetic is kinda shaped like theduster…”

“Prosthesis.”

“Buh?”

“Prosthetic is an adjective, so if youuse ‘prosthetic,’ it needs to be followed by a noun… in this case, ‘leg.’ So Ibelieve the word you were looking for is prosthesis,which is a noun.”

Dewey groaned. “What’s the point in Mrs.B. giving us a minimum day if you’re just gonna keep giving grammar lessons?Anyway, I put a fuzzy sock over the foot and it was working fine as a dusteruntil I needed to unbend the knee a little more to reach the higher shelves ofthe bookcase, and then it broke!” He made a few feeble attempts to reattach thelower portion of the leg to the knee and upper leg, but the two halves wouldn’tstay together.

“Mom let you borrow her leg to dust ourroom?” Huey crossed his arms.

“Well…” Dewey cringed with guilt.

“Youstole an amputee’s prosthesis?!”

“I borrowedit! She’s not using it right now! She’s still sleeping off the Novocain… er…whatever meds they gave her. I dunno if Novocain is supposed to make peoplesleepy.”

Scrooge had taken Della to both thedoctor and the dentist that morning during the kids’ homeschool lessons withMrs. Beakley, and after a physical exam, a few tests, and some dental work,Scrooge brought home his loopy, lightweight niece while the kids were havinglunch and tucked her in to sleep off the drugs the dentist gave her.

“I almost got caught by Uncle Scroogecoming down the hall. D’you think he was checking on her? D’you think henoticed her leg wasn’t on the nightstand anymore?”

Of all the half-brained, inappropriate…stealing their mother’s only means of getting around while she was out cold…using it for household chores, and then… “Gah! Just…!” Huey took a few deepbreaths and pressed his fingers to the space between his eyes, pinching themshut. “Come here. I’ll fix it.”

While Dewey climbed down with the leg,Huey reached under their bunk bed for his tool kit.

“Unbelievable… what’s next? Stealing adiabetic’s insulin needle to punch a hole in a belt that’s too big?”

“No one in the house has diabetes… and Idon’t wear belts much.”

“Oh of course! Silly me!” Huey fumed ashe sat up, pulling his tool kit out from under the bed. “That’s the only reasonyou can’t do those things! You don’t have the means!”

He held out his hand for the prosthesisand Dewey passed the pieces to him. It didn’t look broken, exactly… there wereno dents or jagged edges. It looked as though it just needed to be put backtogether. After examining the knee joint and figuring out which part was thefront, he screwed the lower leg back on… but then the foot was facingbackwards. So he unscrewed it, flipped it around, and tried again.

“Yeah, I did that much, but it wouldn’tstay on!” Dewey said.

Then Huey noticed there was a boltmissing from the knee joint.

“Where’s the bolt that goes here?” heasked.

“…Somewhere?” Dewey shrugged.

Huey groaned and left the leg on thefloor to search around the bookcase. “You said you were dusting around here,right? Did you hear anything fall on the floor?”

“I was listening to music on my phonewhile I was dusting.”

“Well did you feel anything hit the floor?”

“No…? Because I’m not a deaf or blindsuperhero with heightened seismic sense? …but MAN that’d be cool!”

“Just help me look!” Huey said as hechecked the shelves of the bookcase. “Where were you exactly when you broke the…”

“Found it!”

Huey had so little faith in his brother’scompetence at the moment, he half-expected him to be holding up a moldy cheesypuff. Thankfully, he really had found the bolt.

“I guess it rolled over to the desk.”

Huey snatched it out of Dewey’s hand andput it back in the knee joint, then opened his bag of tools and pulled out awrench to tighten it.

“And what did you learn today?” Hueyasked.

“That it’s called a prosthesis, or aprosthetic leg.”

“And…?”

“That Mom snores.”

“And…?”

Dewey sighed. “Borrowing an amputee’sprosthetic leg without asking to dust a bookshelf is wrong.” He lowered his voiceto a mutter. “But I bet Mom woulda been cool with it…”

“Don’t you think she’s been throughenough? We should be making things easier for her if we can. How is stealingher leg making things easier for her?”

“You’ll have it fixed before she wakesup and needs it, right?”

Huey only grumbled.

“OOH also!” Dewey changed the subject. “UncleScrooge has a trip planned for the arctic in a couple days. He told Mom she canbe the pilot. It’ll be our first adventure with her!”

“Yourfirst adventure with her. I’ve got a Junior Woodchuck meeting.”

“Then miss it! How can you choose theJunior Woodchucks over Mom?”

Huey looked up from his task and fixedhis eyes on Dewey’s. “You wanna give me heck right now when I’m the one fixing Mom’s prosthesis thatyou broke?”

That seemed to do the trick. Deweystayed silent as Huey bent the leg at the knee to make sure he’d fixed it. Itseemed a little stiff, so he loosened the bolt. When he got it to where itseemed the two halves weren’t going to come apart, but the knee joint stillbent, he handed the leg back to Dewey.

“Now go put this back in Mom’s room, andif she’s awake, tell her what happened. And if she’s not, let her sleep andthen tell her later, or I will!”

“Okay, okay…”

Dewey took a few steps toward the doorbefore he stopped and spun around. “Almost forgot!” He put the prosthesis onLouie’s bunk before climbing up to his own and grabbing something Huey couldn’tsee. When he made it back down and picked up the leg again, he held up thefuzzy sock he’d borrowed as a dust cloth to show Huey and grinned. The whiteand aqua striped sock was covered in dust on one side, especially at the edge.

“Gimme that!” Huey snatched the sock outof Dewey’s hand. “You’re not returning it like this. I’ll put it in the laundryroom when I take the basket back downstairs.”

“Awesome. Thanks bro! See ya later!” andhe ran out the door.

Huey sighed and put his tools awaybefore turning his attention back to his basket of neatly folded laundry.

“Howcan you choose the Junior Woodchucks over Mom?” Dewey’s question echoed in his mind and tightenedguilt’s grip on him, but he shook his head and reached for a neatly foldedshirt from the basket to place in his drawer. I made a commitment, he reminded himself. I said I would be there, so I have to be there. Mom would be proud ofme for that… right?

But if Huey were being honest withhimself, it wasn’t about honoring his commitments.

Everything was changing. Everything wasdifferent. He needed something to stay the same. He needed one thing to happenthe way he thought it would. Just onething. There was nothing in the Junior Woodchuck Guidebook about long-lostmothers coming home while primary guardians were on vacation, or about repairingprosthetic limbs made of rocket parts, or doing weekend chores during the week,or having several hours of lessons suddenly cancelled so he could catch up onthose chores, or…

Huey turned his back to the dresser andslumped to the floor, fingers trembling as he reached under his hat for hisprecious guidebook. He flipped through the pages, knowing he wouldn’t findanything that could help him now, but needing to see those familiar pages… toknow that some things don’t change. But as he searched, felt, and even smelledthe pages, he found to his horror that he didn’t feel any better, and realizingthe guidebook wasn’t making him feel any better made him feel even worse. Ifthe JWG couldn’t comfort him, then nothing was the same.

His vision grew blurry. He shut theguidebook and set it aside before his tears could dampen its pages. Burying hisface in his arms crossed over his knees, he took a shuddering breath and wept…every muffled whimper unheard by his family.Author’s Notes:Poor Huey’s so glad to have his mommy home, but sometimes change is just plain hard to deal with, and you don’t even realize how much anxiety change is causing until one little thing puts you over the edge.

Sorry it took a while to get this one done! At least you and rammbook both asked for the Donald “it’s good to have you home,” one at the same time so you got your other request a little sooner. XD

#ducktales fanfic #ducktales fanfiction #ducktales huey #ducktales 2017 #ducktales #writing prompt

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perspective-series · 6 years ago

Text

A Third Perspective (7)

By: @arc852 and @hiddendreamer67

Warnings: Fear, panic, and unwanted touching/grabbing

(Check the reblog for the links to the previous chapters!)

Logan let out a small yawn, glancing at the clock. It seemed he had accidentally pulled an all-nighter, and a glance at the light streaming in through the window indicated it was already well into the morning. Looking down at his notebook Logan decided that it had been worth it. Over 50 pages of various well-documented observations and hypotheses laid before him. Though it was only a start, it was at the very least a strong one. This was sure to win him the adoration of his professor as he figured out the next steps to properly documenting a newfound biological discovery.

Virgil groaned, feeling disoriented as he came back to consciousness. He carefully opened his eyes, blinking rapidly at the bright light. Which was strange in its own right. Since when did any light reach him in the walls?

When he was finally able to see and saw the towering glass walls that surrounded him, his memories from the night before came rushing back. He gasped as he sat up, looking around until his eyes met the human’s. Logan. He stared up at him with wide eyes.

“Good morning,” Logan said, noticing the tiny fellow was once again finally awake. “I’m glad you’re once again conscious, you have been out of it for quite some time.”

Virgil wished he was still out of it. He couldn’t believe this wasn’t just some bad dream. He was actually captured by a human! He put his head in between his knees and did his best to calm himself down. A panic attack this early in the morning was never fun. And wouldn’t help him at all.

Realizing that Virgil still did not seem to be feeling very social at this early hour, Logan returned his attention back to his notebook. He began to pack up the papers, carefully storing it all within the confines of his book bag. Then, making sure the textbook was once again securely covering the top of the beaker to prevent any escape attempts now that the creature was awake, Logan left the room.

Virgil’s head snapped up as he heard the sound of the chair move and carefully watched as Logan got up and silently walked out of the room. Where was he going? Was he going to get things to test or whatever on him? Was he simply taking a break? Now that he was thinking about it, it seemed like Logan didn’t sleep at all last night. While he had passed out and had been asleep all this time.

Virgil shivered at the idea of being around a human whilst unconscious. He stood up, legs still a bit shaky, but he managed. He looked out of the glass and around him. Why? He wasn’t sure, it wasn’t like he could use anything to get out. He was well and truly trapped.

Logan stifled yet another yawn as he re-entered the room, this time with a coffee mug in hand. He sat down at his desk, taking a few slow sips as he once again observed Virgil.

Virgil flinched, backing away to put a little more distance between him and the human, even though he knew it didn’t matter. Hesitantly, he met the human’s gaze. “W-What?” He stuttered out, shoulders tense.

“Oh, just trying to figure out how this is going to work,” Logan said in an almost bored tone, still scrutinizing him.

Virgil didn’t like the sound of that. “How...what, is-is going to work?” He asked, backing up a bit more, but any more and he would hit the opposite side.

“Travelling.” Logan supposed it was likely the lack of sleep that made him so susceptible to explaining things aloud to his finding. Not to mention, he was desperate to discuss his plans with quite literally anyone. “It seems a bit too inconspicuous to be carrying you around in a large glass beaker, what with it both being transparent and cumbersome. Not to mention the texture is not meant to be gripped for long periods of time, and my grip is more likely to slip on the smooth glass.”

Logan leaned back in his chair slightly, looking contemplative. “But on the other hand I don’t currently possess any carriers suitable for carrying live cargo, and I am not quick to put my trust into the materials that compose the few bags I do have laying about. Frankly many are fraying, or seem unsuitable for creating a breathable environment.”

Virgil’s panic only continued to grow the more Logan spoke. “Wait! Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait-” Virgil ran a hand through his hair. “I-I’m not going anywhere!” He wasn’t sure where Logan wanted to take him, but it couldn’t be anywhere good.

“Oh, so you’ve become attached to this particular piece of glass, then?” Logan scoffed, sleep deprivation making him more sarcastic than usual.

“No!” Virgil glared at him. “I mean, I’m not leaving the building. And I’m certainly not going anywhere with you.” Virgil’s glare quickly faded and was replaced by a pleading look.

“Please, please just let me go home,” Virgil begged.

“Look, please don’t make this more difficult than it has to be.” Logan sighed, rubbing at his temples. “This is already going to be difficult enough to find a proper method of transportation without you fighting me every step of the way.”

It seemed Logan wasn’t even listening to him, which wasn’t much of a surprise. But still. Virgil hugged himself and looked down.

Logan’s eyes wandered around his room, searching for a solution. His eyes landed on his shirt and stayed there for an unusually long amount of time. Whether this was due to something he spotted or the wheels in his head turning more slowly than was normal this morning, it was hard to say. However, eventually, the article of clothing seemed to inspire a brilliant idea in his now caffeinated brain.

“I suppose a pocket will just have to do,” Logan said with a small, decisive nod.

Wait, what? Virgil followed Logan’s gaze down to his shirt pocket and he tensed. “No, no absolutely not,” Virgil spoke aloud without realizing.

“Any reasoning behind this particular objection?” Logan raised an eyebrow, turning back to Virgil. “Or is this just another instance in which you repeatedly object to every one of my actions?”

Virgil grit his teeth. Well, did you ever think there might be a reason for that? He wanted to say but stopped himself. It wouldn’t do well to get the human angry and he was already pushing his luck from his previous outbursts. So, he stayed silent.

“That’s what I presumed.” Logan finished off his coffee, setting the mug down before once again leaving the room to get dressed and prepare for the day. He paused to gaze into the mirror, adjusting his tie slightly as he gave himself a mental pep talk. You can do this. This is your chance. You’ve been preparing your whole life for this break. Don’t ruin it. Logan cringed slightly at that last thought, running a brush through his hair before coming back out.

“I seem to be running a bit ahead of schedule,” Logan commented, looking at his watch. But of course he was; Logan would never dream of being late to anything in his life. Especially a meeting as important as today.

Logan removed the textbook from atop the beaker, before gathering up the entire glass container in his hands again to transfer it to the kitchen.

Virgil yelped as Logan suddenly picked up the glass, stumbling and falling against one side. He winced at the sting that shot up through his arm-of course it had to be the one that was still hurt from yesterday-and he fell into a heap on the ground. He looked up to see that they were once again back in the kitchen. What was Logan doing now?

Logan set the beaker onto the counter, opening the drawer to gather up a new pair of gloves. Once these were equipped he reached his hands in to pull out Virgil.

Once again, Virgil tried to squirm away, to push himself more into the floor. But, of course, it was no use. Virgil was just too small to do anything against the human. So he found himself once again trapped in a fist. That didn’t stop him from struggling against the grip though.

Logan transferred Virgil to one hand, using his free fingers to try and gently open Virgil’s mouth in order to view his teeth.

Virgil froze as the human’s fingers came up to his face before he really started struggling. Flailing his limbs and hitting Logan’s fingers as much as he could. He wasn’t sure what Logan was trying to do, but he didn’t like it at all. “Stop!”

Logan did pause, pulling his fingers back to focus on keeping a firm grip on Virgil. It would be a shame if he fell. “Do you have any dietary restrictions?”

“H-Huh?” Virgil stuttered out, still more focused on the fingers surrounding him. At least Logan had moved away from his face.

“What do you eat.” Logan rephrased his question. “I was trying to figure out what sustenance might be best for you based on your dental structure, but if you’re willing to cooperate that would be just as effective, I suppose.”

Virgil would much rather speak, then go through that again. “I, um, can eat anything.” Virgil said with a shrug. “I’m not exactly picky either.” He mumbled the last part. He couldn’t afford to be picky.

“I highly doubt your stomach acids are truly capable of handling quite literally anything.” Logan huffed. “Do you mean anything within a human diet?”

Virgil simply nodded. He shifted in the grip, wishing Logan would just put him down.

“Are you primarily carnivorous or a herbivore?” Logan continued. “What foods usually make up your meals from day to day?”

Virgil shrugged. “It...depends. On what I find that day. Usually, it’s just...I don’t know, some bread crumbs, or a chip someone dropped. If I’m lucky I might manage to get some cereal.” Virgil explained.

“So you’re a scavenger.” Logan supposed this made sense. “That should make things easier. Do you have any preferences, then?” Logan added on this last question in an attempt to be polite more than anything.

“Um, not really.” Virgil hesitated, before mumbling, “maybe something warm?” Half of him hoped Logan didn’t even hear him. But the other half, well, he can’t deny that it would be nice to try some actual warm food.

“Something warm?” Logan was puzzled slightly by this statement. What an odd request. “Why, are you cold?” He certainly didn’t feel cold, although the gloves might have been hindering Logan’s perception of temperature.

Crap, he had heard him. “N-No...just...I’ve never had it before, okay?” Virgil said, looking anywhere else but at the human.

“Oh.” Logan said. The statement was a bit...depressing. Logan chose not to dwell on it. “Well, in that case perhaps it’d be best if we avoid warm foods for now. It would be foolhardy to adjust your diet more than necessary as it may have adverse effects on your health.” He didn’t want to risk anything happening to his discovery mere hours before the presentation.

Virgil deflated slightly, but really, it was his own fault for getting his hopes up. Whatever. Food was food and like he said before, he wasn’t picky. “Then whatever you have around is fine.” Virgil mumbled.

Logan set Virgil back into the beaker, going over and grabbing a granola bar from the cupboard. He split off a small chunk, lowering it into the beaker to offer it up. “Here you are.”

Virgil frowned when he was put back in the beaker, but at least he was out of Logan’s hands. He hesitated before taking the food from Logan. He looked it over, not knowing what it was. He took a bite and let out a satisfied hum. It was really good. And it tasted a lot fresher than what he usually ate too.

Logan consumed the rest of the bar himself, trying to restore his energy levels as well. Then he leaned against the counter, waiting for the small creature to finish.

It didn’t take long for Virgil to finish it, as he practically scarfed it down. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was, though he supposed it had been a few days since he last ate. If he remembers correctly, he ate a piece of bread the night before Logan caught him. He wiped the excess crumbs off of him.

“Satisfied?” Logan asked.

With his current situation, heck no. Not like he was gonna say that though. “Yeah.” Virgil answered simply, along with a shrug.

With this answer, the human decided it was time to get going. Logan reached in with one hand, gathering up Virgil once more. His other hand moved to open up the small pocket that resided on the left side of Logan’s chest. Carefully, Logan deposited the tiny being inside.

Virgil really should have been expecting the sudden grabbing, but he didn’t. And he really didn’t expect to end up in Logan’s pocket so soon. He struggled to sit up in the fabric. “H-Hey!”

“Yes?” Logan tried to ignore the strange sensation as he returned to his bedroom. This would certainly take some time to adjust.

“Let me out!” Virgil yelled, moving around more. “I don’t want to go!” It was just now really hitting him that Logan was about to take him somewhere. Most likely with a lot more humans around and that was the last thing Virgil wanted.

“Please be quiet.” Logan sighed, trying to ignore the tiny icky feeling in his chest at Virgil’s protests. He gathered up his bag, making sure the strap did not overlap with the pocket. “I thought you stated you wished to keep a low profile. If you still intend to do so, it would be unwise to continue shouting at me out in public.”

Virgil hadn’t been planning to do anything of the sort while in public, it’s just, he didn’t want to go out in public in the first place. He decided to try one more time. “Please Logan, I can just stay here! Just leave me in the beaker, I’ll be fine!” It was better than going out in public at least.

“No, that would be counterproductive.” Logan shook his head. He didn’t want to fully explain his motives for taking Virgil out, for fear of restarting those self-destructive tendencies. Logan did one last check around the room to make sure he didn’t forget anything before grabbing his keys and heading to the front door.

“I’m leaving the apartment now.” Logan narrated, looking briefly down at his pocket while he locked the front door. “So keep a low profile, alright?”

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beingallelite · 5 years ago

Link

Not only is she one of the leading figures in All Elite Wrestling's developing women's division just four years after first stepping foot in the ring, but she's also done it while completing dental school and starting a full-time practice.

Bleacher Report's Jonathan Snowden had the chance to sit down with Dr. Baker to discuss life, the impact of the Wednesday Night Wars on her relationship and the glorious art of professional wrestling.

He also reviewed the best match and promo of the week, took a look at the latest offering from DK Books, tracked the latest battle in the war between AEW and NXT and consolidated a week's worth of wrestling events to catch you up on anything you might have missed.

Join us every week for Off the Top Rope and Bleacher Report's exclusive access to the biggest stars in the sport.

Dr. Britt Baker, DMD, on AEW's Women's Division and Her Crazy Double Life

The trip to Pittsburgh was about two-and-a-half hours each way—and Britt Baker drove it once a week in the summer of 2014, her conscience heavy with guilt. In the fall, she would start dental school at the University of Pittsburgh. Her life seemed settled.

But professional wrestling had a hold on her heart and wouldn't let go. So she got into the car anyway, driving to class at the International Wrestling Cartel to begin her tutelage in the esoteric art of wrestling, a secret hidden from family and friends in her gossipy home town.

"I was so terrified that my parents were going to hate this that I didn't tell them for five months," she tells Bleacher Report. "I was correct. They were less than thrilled. It's not that they were especially discouraging. It's just what every parent would say. 'Britt, you have a guaranteed successful career ahead of you. You've been accepted into one of the best dental schools in the world. You could get hurt in the wrestling ring and your dental career could be done. Do you understand what you're doing?'"

Stubborn as only a highly capable person in their early 20s can be, Baker was convinced she could learn both crafts simultaneously. She took on what might be a truly unique double major: learning to fix teeth by day and pretending to knock them out by night.

"Wrestling kept me sane during dental school," Baker says. "That was the hardest time of my life, and I don't know how I would have made it without the distractions of wrestling to keep me afloat.

"I would be sitting in the back of my dental implants class, secretly watching Raw from the night before while trying to pay attention in class. And when I was on the road doing wrestling shows, the guys that I would train with would help me. Andrew Palace and Darren Genaro would be flashing me notecards to help me study for an exam.

"I'm setting up the ring and we take a break to study. There aren't many friends like that in the world, people who would use their breaktime to help you study instead of going to get a cheeseburger up the road or just taking a minute to themselves. I was so fortunate early on with the people I surrounded myself with in wrestling."

When she's introduced now as "Dr. Britt Baker, DMD," there is a sense of pride. Unlike most wrestling gimmicks built around a trade, Baker comes by hers honestly. And while most wrestling dentists are bad guys, she hopes fans might make an exception in her case.

"It's my favorite part of every match, the moment I hear that," she says. "It's an affirmation. Yes, that is who I am. I am Dr. Britt Baker, DMD, and I'm a professional wrestler. I don't mean to brag or boast, but I love the recognition for it.

"It was hard. I went to school for eight years to be a dentist. Sorry if the person in the fifth row doesn't like it and thinks I should be a bag guy because people hate the dentist. People might not like the dentist, but they do like people who chase their dreams."

Baker was brave enough to chase two. And now, living in Orlando, Florida, with her boyfriend, NXT champion Adam Cole, she maintains what would be a back-breaking schedule for most, somehow maintaining her career in the ring and a burgeoning dental practice without seemingly missing a beat.

"Both of my worlds are very understanding of the other," she says. "I have an agreement with the dental office I work for that we'll be closed on Wednesdays. Because I'll be in whatever city AEW Dynamite is in. And AEW is OK with me flying in super-late Tuesday night after work or even early Wednesday morning. They are also really good at getting me on the first flight back to Orlando Thursday morning. I get right off the plane and go to work. I am still able to work four days a week as a dentist."

Right now, she is careful to keep her two worlds apart. While she'll talk to patients about wrestling if they bring it up, she's aware that many people might find her dual roles off putting. Sometimes, however, what happens in the wrestling ring isn't easily contained in the ring. Take, for example, a black eye suffered recently at the hands of her burgeoning rival, Bea Priestley.

"The black eye was very interesting," Baker says. "I was getting pretty creative just hiding it. I had my mask on most of the day and we use dental loupes, which are magnifying and have a little light on them. I made sure I had those on all day. Because, it's a whole thing. 'Oh my gosh, what happened to your eye?' and 'What do you mean you're a professional wrestler? I didn't know this!' So, I tried to make it an easier day."

While a black eye can be manageable, more serious injuries pose potential problems in both fields. Earlier this year, her parents' worst fears came true when Baker suffered a major head injury at an AEW pay-per-view in Jacksonville, Florida.

"For five days, I could not see out of the outer corner of my eye," she says. "I had no peripheral vision. It was just black. That terrified me. Doc Sampson, our head doctor for AEW, would call me every day. He's an excellent physician. And, every day, I was so frustrated.

"I was starting to wonder if I was going to be OK, but he was very reassuring, explaining that this is a concussion symptom and I would eventually get my vision back. He told me, 'You got hit really bad, really hard, but it's going to be OK.' But people can tell you that all they want—until it actually comes back, it's scary.

"You can't see and you need your eyes for everything. Especially being a dentist, working in someone's mouth and even drilling on their teeth. I was terrified. Obviously, I couldn't work in the dental office when I couldn't see. That's a lawsuit waiting to happen and not safe. So, it was tough.

"But that's the nature of the game in professional wrestling. People get hurt. It's not ideal, but it happens. Accidents happen. It was a reality check reminding me, 'Hey, be careful.' But, at the same time, I love it. And, when you love what you do, you can accept the risk."

On Wednesday, Baker fought Riho for the AEW Women's Championship, an enormous accomplishment for a woman just four years into her professional career with a mere three weeks on television.

"It's very stressful and exciting," Baker says. "It's baptism by fire. You're wrestling in front of 100 people one week and suddenly you're in front of 10,000. I have so much to learn, but I'm in good hands. I feel like I have the best coaches, the best production crew, the EVPs, Tony, everyone who has a hand in this is one of the best people to be working with in wrestling.

"(AEW owner) Tony Khan is super-hands on. He is everywhere and will be texting creative ideas all the time. He's absolutely fantastic. I can't say enough good things about Tony Khan. He makes every person on the roster feel appreciated. He is happy you are part of his company."

There is a lot of experience to lean on backstage at an AEW event, including agents Dean Malenko, Jerry Lynn and Dustin Rhodes. Perhaps the most integral figures for women looking to live up to bold promises about equality and opportunity are Kenny Omega and Michael Nakazawa, dual-lingual wrestlers who help the contingent of Japanese competitors like Riho communicate with their American counterparts.

"Kenny Omega has a huge role in the women's division," Baker says. "He agents a lot of the matches and he's brought his passion for the Japanese joshi wrestling to our world and it's amazing. I don't have a ton of experience with joshi wrestling, but I love it.

"I'm learning from Kenny by watching how he puts matches together. How lucky can I be? That was one of the selling points for AEW to me when Brandi and Cody (Rhodes) told me he'd have a major role with the women's division. I was a huge fan.

"I was the girl staying up all night to watch Wrestle Kingdom even though I had class the next day. Now I work with Kenny Omega, one of the best wrestlers in the world and a creative genius. Some of his ideas just amaze me. There seems to be no end to his creative insanity."

Baker's rise in the sport comes as Cole reaches new heights of his own in NXT. The two are equally wrestling-obsessed and watch the rival company's competing shows together the day after the events. But Baker admits the dueling Wednesday night broadcasts aren't ideal.

"We are texting and calling each other for encouragement right up until the moment we go out the curtain," she says. "It can be a little heartbreaking when it's the biggest night of his career or the biggest night of my career and we can't be there. Because we're each other's biggest fans and, as a fan, you want to be there and feel the energy. You want to experience it. So, it's a little discouraging.

"But we sit at home and watch each other's matches. We actually watch each other's whole show. We support each other's company. My boyfriend is basically best friends with The Young Bucks, so he's very supportive of All Elite Wrestling."

Baker, like most in AEW, keeps a watchful eye on fan reactions. She's noticed some grumbling among hardcore fans, upset that the promotion hasn't featured women as frequently as they have men. But she urges patience.

"You have to take it with a grain of salt when people, for lack of a better term, bitch and moan about what is and isn't on the show," she says. "Fans are always going to find a reason to grumble. They want one thing week one, you give it to them week two, and then they don't want that anymore. Some fans are very hard to please.

"AEW, we're still so new, so I encourage people to sit back, relax and kind of breathe with us. We're going to give everybody what they want. Sure, there's only one women's match on the show. But maybe there is only one tag team match, too. Enjoy it, let us establish what our brand is, then form your opinion.

"Right now, it's fresh and new. Try to enjoy the ride."

Britt Baker returns home next week on AEW Dynamite as Pittsburgh temporarily transforms into Brittsburgh.

Match of the Week: Kenny Omega vs. Joey Janela (AEW Dark)

In AEW storylines, Kenny Omega is struggling to find his way. After losing to Chris Jericho in a grueling bout at Double or Nothing in May, he was unceremoniously destroyed by a debuting Jon Moxley.

It was enough to send Omega into a tailspin, breaking the former IWGP champion mentally and spiritually.

In the ring, though, he is finding his way. Against an opponent with plenty to prove in Joey Janela, Omega raised his game to heights only he can reach. The result was one of the most remarkable matches of the entire year.

It was an unsanctioned bout that didn't count on their AEW records, but the two men wrestled it like it was a pay-per-view main event and not a match on AEW Dark, a YouTube show available for free to anyone.

The bout was a modern twist on ECW, a match filled with high spots, plunder and plenty of both guts and glory. Imagine the very best technical wrestler in the world wrestling Tommy Dreamer in a match where basically anything goes. That was this match in a nutshell—a must-see for anyone who loves wrestling.

Runner Up: Kota Ibushi vs. Evil (New Japan: King of Pro-Wrestling)

Hard Times Promo of the Week: Darby Allin

The first time I saw Darby Allin wrestle, I knew he was a star. Admittedly, I was late to the party. He'd already spent years wowing crowds at super-indies like Evolve, waiting for the opportunity to take his unique energy to a bigger stage.

My first visit to Planet Darby was on a stage so small there wasn't even room for a ring. He and his wife, the wrestler Priscilla Kelly, were taking on another couple in an intergender bar fight. There were maybe 100 people there, and none of them could take their eyes off of Allin and Kelly.

When they closed the match with Priscilla spitting directly into Darby's open mouth, I knew I had to meet him.

His personal magnetism was evident, his weird energy was of the time. He wasn't cosplaying a skateboard kid with a barely disguised death wish. He was that kid on stage and off. Sans makeup and in a sharp black suit the next day, he was every bit as interesting as I'd anticipated.

His energy was even more powerful in conversation, his passion for performing so strong that he couldn't even hope to hide it in a post-modern haze of ennui or irony. Why, he asked, did wrestlers limit their influences to previous wrestling matches and angles? He intended to look all around him to inform his art with the present and not the past.

Although not immediately identifiable, it's this perspective that makes him feel different. Fans are getting a taste of it right now on AEW television.

AEW provided the platform, and Darby used it to make himself the first breakout performer in the promotion's short history. He may not have beaten Chris Jericho for the championship but check back here in six months and we'll count coup then.

Because Darby Allin is a star.

Wednesday Night Wars: Week 3 Showdown Between AEW and NXT

It's Week 3 in the Wednesday Night Wars, as AEW went head-to-head with NXT on national television once more.

The wrestling world has turned its attention to this midweek battle for supremacy and both brands have brought their best.

The result has been a spectacular win for fans. Among the promotions, though, there can be only one winner.

Let's run down each show in the two major categories that combine to create great wrestling television.

Wrestling

As Arn Anderson once said, "it's on the marque." Everything else is built around the action in the ring, and both brands specialize in modern, exciting action.

As is becoming the norm, AEW promised an incredible card and somehow delivered excellence even beyond our expectations.

The best technical match was the barnburner between Kenny Omega/Adam Page and Pac/Moxley. One day after announcing he was still the top performer in the world at AEW Dark, birthday boy Omega teamed with Page to again steal the show.

The Elite beat Pac and Moxley in a slobberknocker that saw all four at the top of their games, a combination of high-flying action and enough storytelling elements to build future matches between the quartet.

But the match we'll all remember was the main event, a star-making performance from Darby Allin, the 22-year-old prodigy who literally wrestled much of the event with his hands behind his back. He gave champion Chris Jericho all that he could handle, even without the use of his hands, forcing The Inner Circle's Jake Hager to interfere and preserve Jericho's reign.

Allin is a star.

NXT has a different approach. Most of the matches don't feel like a big deal, bordering on being simple, competitive squash bouts with obvious winners. They are well-executed, with the winners looking like stars, but it's hard to compare positively with AEW using this approach.

Two bouts stood out: the rubber match between Keith Lee and Dominic Dijakovic and the main event battle of attrition featuring Damian Priest's upset win over Pete Dunne. Lee and Dijakovic have good chemistry, but their clash was marred by a sports-entertainment finish setting up a three-way dance with Roderick Strong next week.

The main event had some mild shenanigans at the end, but it was an excellent back-and-forth contest worth seeking out.

Advantage: AEW

Presentation and Storytelling

This was the best night yet for AEW's commentary team of Jim Ross, Tony Schiavone and Excalibur. The three men are starting to figure out where they fit in and when it's time to hit their spots.

Ross seemed engaged throughout and Schiavone, in particular, always seems to chime in just when he's needed.

There was an excellent vignette that told much of the story I shared in my Cody Rhodes feature piece earlier in the month and set up his title challenge against Chris Jericho nicely. AEW shines here with these videos. Their shoulder programming generally is top notch.

The co-main event set up a match next week between Pac and Jon Moxley and generally made everyone involved look amazing. The main event further cemented Allin as a star of the future while establishing Jericho and The Inner Circle as bad actors willing to cheat to win. Solid, basic storytelling.

NXT did a much better job of building its characters this week and further defining who the key players are and what they're about. Johnny Gargano felt like a big deal for the first time and Shayna Baszler cut one of the best promos I've seen from her, telling a returning Tegan Nox, "Let's be honest, you're running out of limbs to rehab."

When Mauro Ranallo is on, he's one of the best announcers in the sport. An enthusiastic Mauro is a lot of fun to listen to. A Mauro who is trying to namedrop the Brazilian stink bug makes me think about reaching for the mute button. He walks a continuous fine line between excellence and utter disaster.

This show did an excellent job building for next week and teased future bouts such as Io Shirai and Rhea Ripley that have fans salivating. NXT's best effort yet as an overall show.

Advantage: Even

Overall

As good as NXT was, AEW is going to be hard to beat when they are loaded for bear the way they were Wednesday night. No one on NXT can match Jericho, Omega or Cody Rhodes as overall performers, and the undercard wrestlers on TNT are given the time and freedom to make something special of their segments.

Given the opportunity to shine, great talent is always going to deliver something worth watching. So far, AEW has done this every single week.

Winner: AEW

Three-Count: A Look Ahead

AEW Dynamite (October 23, TNT)

Pac vs. Jon Moxley: These two couldn't get along during their tag team match Wednesday against Kenny Omega and Adam Page, and they will settle their differences next week in Pittsburgh. Wins and losses matter in AEW, making this match of particular importance to Pac, who is seemingly close to earning a title shot. Prediction: Moxley emerges victorious after outside interference by a member of the Elite.

Private Party vs. Lucha Bros: Wondering if the Lucha Bros were babyface or heels? Wonder no more. They announced their presence on the villainous side of the ledger with a brutal attack on SCU. They will likely do something equally dastardly to the up-and-coming tag team that upset The Young Bucks in the first round. Prediction: Private Party comes to an end and the Lucha Bros advance to the AEW Tag Team Tournament finals.

SCU vs. Dark Order: We don't know a lot about Dark Order, the one notable failure on the part of AEW's creative team. They've had such a golden touch that the one bust really stands out. Prediction: SCU gets the upset and earns the opportunity at revenge against the Lucha Bros.

#britt baker #kenny omega #joey janela #darby allin #all elite wrestling #aew #posted on: 10.17.19 #article #bleacher report

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darks-ink · 6 years ago

Text

Disinterred CH.2

Chapter 2: Led Away By Imperfect Impostors

“Well, he’s obviously still in the city, but we don’t have any proof that he’s, well, alive, do we? We deal with plenty of ghosts in this city, who says we can’t have one living among us?” “It wouldn’t be the strangest thing we’ve come across in Amity Park.”

(author notes, full summary, content warning, and links to AO3 + Fanfiction.net can be found in this linked post)

“Well doctor Beckett, what do you have for me?”

The addressed doctor didn’t look up from her work, but then, there was no need to. She had already recognized the voice as detective Payton’s. Instead, she snorted at his needlessly professional mode of address.

“Matthias, please just call me by my first name.”

She heard him sigh, and chuckled to herself. He complied, though. “Alright, fine. Olympia, what do you have for me?”

“Well,” she started, turning around to look at him while they were talking. “Not much, to be honest. As I suspected at the crime scene, it wasn’t a recent event. The corpse has been buried for a while, long enough that any traces of ectoplasm that might have been left behind would have evaporated ages ago.

“It’s almost impossible to determine a cause of death, but we haven’t been able to find any injuries beyond the obvious. It’s likely that he was killed by the same thing that burned him so badly, but we’re not sure what, exactly, that was.” She stared him down, having finished her speech.

Payton nodded, a grim expression on his face. “Any luck IDing the body?”

She hummed. “Between the decay and the burns, the easy ways of identifying him are out. We’ve been able to figure out that our victim is male, and that he was a teenager when he died, but there isn’t even enough of his hair left to tell what color it was when he was alive.”

A quick look at Payton showed that he was still following the conversation, and she continued. “Now, normally we would go for dental records with a case like this one. Unfortunately, we have no clue who the body could have belonged to, so we have no one to compare the teeth to.”

“So that leaves what, DNA?”

She nodded, a distasteful expression on her face. “Yep. And that, unfortunately, takes a while to get results from.”

“Great,” Payton sighed. “Be sure to let me know when the results are in.”

“Of course Matthias. Now go on, I’m sure you have more people to talk to.” She offered him a kind smile. In turn, he rolled his eyes but smiled back, before leaving the way he had come.

The sound of heels clicking drew the attention of the entire team. The determined expression on doctor Beckett’s face ensured that said attention remained on her.

“I got the results of the DNA test for our body.” Her voice was hard and cutting, like steel.

Payton quirked an eyebrow at her. “You don’t sound pleased with them. No match?”

“No, I got a match alright,” she practically hissed, and wow, Payton doesn’t think he has ever heard her this upset. Actually, he doesn’t think any of his officers have ever heard her upset at all. They must think that she’s pissed.

He saw Mike glance at Rosie, who shrugged in return, which apparently was all the encouragement Mike needed.

“So then what’s the problem?” The tone of his voice was casual, but Payton knew that it was faked.

“The problem is that it doesn’t make any god damn sense!” She accompanied the snarl with a glare towards Mike, who shrunk away from the furious doctor. Kid could face a hostile ghost, no problem, but apparently Beckett was too much for him. Payton decided to take mercy on him.

He cleared his throat, then spoke with his voice as calm as he could manage. “Have you tried double-checking them?”

Beckett’s stare could probably melt steel, but Payton has seen worse. Mike’s thankful expression helped, too.

“No, Matthias,” she snapped at him, “I’m obviously a complete idiot and hadn’t thought of that. Of course I double-checked! Even the dental records are a perfect match!”

“So then what’s the problem, doctor Beckett?” Rosie attempted to soothe the situation, but was rewarded with another glare.

“The problem is that the match is still alive.”

The entire team froze. Then they all simultaneously unfroze, exclaiming various expressions of surprise.

Beckett rolled her eyes, but had finally calmed down. “So yes, that is the problem.”

“But that doesn’t make any sense!” Mike groaned, frustration lacing his voice.

Seeing the chaos, Payton decided to put the discussion back on track. “Olympia, who is the kid?”

“The corpse is a perfect match for Daniel Fenton.” Seeing the shock on the faces of the team, she smiled. “Yes, he’s that Daniel Fenton. Son of ghost hunters Jack and Maddie Fenton.”

Payton hummed, thoughtfully. “And we know that their son is still alive, since he’s obviously in the city, still lives with them, and still attends school.”

“So then how did we find a corpse that is a perfect match with him?” Rosie is the one who asked, but Mike’s expression made it clear that he had been moments away from asking as well.

Beckett snorted. “That’s the real question, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Payton huffed. “Should’ve known we wouldn’t get a normal case in this city.”

Mike grinned at him, impishly. “Please boss, that would’ve been too easy.”

Payton rolled his eyes in fond exasperation before attempting to steer the conversation back on track. Again. “So now that we’ve established that somehow we have the dead body of a teenager who is still living in this city, does anybody here have any theories?”

“Well,” Mike drew the word out, waiting until everyone focused on him before continuing. “Do we know if he’s still living in the city?”

Beckett frowned at him. “Explain?”

The others blinked at him a few times, a variety of emotions flitting across their faces as they processed the statement.

“That’s...” Rosie trailed off, but Beckett picked up.

“It wouldn’t be the strangest thing we’ve come across in Amity Park.”

Payton hummed an affirmative, before nodding. “Alright, so why don’t we check if it’s possible. Rosie, check his school attendance records. See if he went missing for any suspicious amounts of time.” Hearing an affirmative from her, he turned to his other officer. “Mike, you check his medical records. I’m not sure how well a ghost can mimic human anatomy, but I bet that a doctor would take notice.”

“Yes sir, right away!”

Payton clapped his hands to draw the attention of his team, and looked at them as they gathered around him.

“So team, what did we find?”

Rosie stood up and cleared her throat. “The victim’s school records are… not great. His attendance during pretty much all of high school has been poor, he’s often late, skips lessons, and sometimes even leaves in the middle of class. The only extended period of time where he didn’t attend was about two and a half years ago, just after the start of his high school career. He was sick for about a week before returning.”

“Anything else noteworthy?”

She shrugged, and moved to sit down again. “No, unless you count his poor grades. Kinda weird, considering his genius family, but he might just be slacking off.”

Payton nodded, then turned to Mike. “And you, officer Milligan?”

“Uh yeah.” He licked his lips as he stood up. “He hasn’t been to any kind of medical check-ups in roughly two years. No trips to the hospital, no visits to the dentist, nothing.”

“Which supports our theory that if the boy is a ghost, he can’t mimic being alive convincingly enough to trick doctors. And, it coincides with the only time he didn’t attend school for a prolonged period of time.” Payton turned to face Beckett. “Doctor, is it possible that the body has been buried for that long?”

She hummed, appearing deep in thought for a moment before nodding. “Yeah, that’s definitely possible. Can’t confirm it based on the state of the body, though.”

“Wow Mike, looks like your theory might be right after all,” Rosie ribbed, winking at him. Mike, in turn, was clearly struggling to stop himself from sticking out his tongue in childish retaliation.

Sometimes Payton wondered why he still worked in this city.

“Alright gentlemen, that’s enough.” He glared down both of his officers, who offered him sheepish expressions in apology.

Seeing that he had drawn the attention back to himself, he decided to summarize the case. “So, we have the body of Daniel Fenton, who probably died 2 years ago. No one noticed, however, because a ghost has taken his place and has been living as Daniel since then. We’ll have to schedule an interview with him to see if we can find conclusive evidence in either direction. But even if the current Daniel Fenton is, in fact, a ghost, he might be Daniel as well.”

Beckett frowned at him. “What do you mean?”

“I think,” Mike hesitated, but continued when he saw Payton nod, “that he means that Daniel might be his own ghost.”

Rosie made a face. “If that’s the case, why didn’t he tell anyone? I don’t know about you guys, but if I was killed, I would make sure the murderer gets caught.”

“Yeah, I agree with officer Carver. If he was stubborn enough to not only come back as a ghost, but to move back in with his parents as well, I can’t imagine that he would shy away from informing the police.”

“Unless he doesn’t remember.” Mike shrugged upon seeing the incredulous expressions on the faces of Rosie and Beckett. “We don’t really know anything about ghosts. Daniel might remember things from when he was alive, so he can blend in like nothing happened, but maybe the memories of his death are lost.”

Beckett hummed thoughtfully. “I suppose that that makes sense. The murderer might have caught him off-guard and killed him before Daniel ever noticed.” She frowned. “But he would still be aware of the fact that he died. He shies away from doctors, so he must be aware.”

“Unless the ghost isn’t Daniel’s after all.” Payton smirked at the raised eyebrows of his team. “I said that the ghost might be Daniel’s, not that he is. We should consider the possibility that this is some other ghost playing pretend.”

“But why would a ghost pretend to be some random teenager?”

Mike snorted at his colleague. “Why do ghosts do anything? And it’s not like they never pretend to be alive, either. There have been a number of ghosts in this city that could pull it off so well that no one knew until they blew their own cover in a fight with Phantom. I’m sure we all remember the whole Ember craze? Or even that counselor at Casper High, whatever her name was?”

Rosie frowned back at him. “So you’re saying what, exactly? That a ghost attacked and killed an innocent teenager and then replaced him? And of all the possible victims, said ghost targeted the son of the cities best-known ghost hunters?”

“His parents...” Beckett whispered, but despite her soft voice all conversation dropped. As everyone turned to look at her, they saw her increasingly horrified expression. “His parents are ghost hunters. If Daniel was replaced by a ghost, either his own or another, surely they would have known.”

She looked up, meeting everyone’s eyes. “Unless they were responsible.”

An uneasy silence fell over them, as they all considered her words. Payton ended up being the one to break it. “You’re suggesting that the parents killed the boy, and that they’re forcing him to stay quiet about it?”

“Just think about it. If it happened two and a half years ago, it would have been before our first recorded spectral visitors. Everyone thought that they were nuts back then, as they had no conclusive proof that ghosts existed.” Beckett shrugged, uneasy. “If they found a way to guarantee that Daniel would become a ghost, they might have done it just so they had proof.”

Rosie shifted, a disturbed expression on her face. “And what, now that ghosts are known to exist they’ve decided to keep quiet about it?”

“Look, I agree that the Fentons are a questionable bunch. And while they love ghosts, they love their kids more, I’m sure of it.”

Payton sighed. “Unfortunately, Mike, sometimes people can put on very convincing acts.” He stood up, folding his hands together and putting on a determined expression. “But we were going to interview Daniel Fenton anyway, so we may as well involve the entire family.

“Even if the parents aren’t responsible, surely either them or their daughter would have noticed that Daniel died.”

The arrival of the Fenton family happened in typical Fenton fashion. It involved the god-awful screeching of tires and what sounded like metal being introduced to the walls of their building at worrying speeds.

Jack Fenton must have been driving the RV today.

The good thing about this was that the team handling the investigation was ready to receive the Fentons the moment they entered the building. The children were left in a waiting room, while Payton led the adult Fentons to an interrogation room. Rosie and Mike were already waiting behind the glass to watch.

While, admittedly, suspects normally wouldn’t be interrogated together, Jack’s tendency to ramble on about ghosts was legendary. Payton hoped that Maddie would help curb said rambling.

And so Payton found himself standing in front of the two possible murderers, dressed as always in their orange and teal jumpsuits. How was it that he could handle malevolent ghosts and possible killers with no sweat, but the two ghost hunters made him so worried?

Oh yeah. It was because they were nuts.

He shoved the thoughts away to focus on the case. The hunters looked at him with curiosity clear on their faces. Neither of them seemed concerned by the fact that they had been called in, no signs of concern or guilt.

He smiled at them, politely, and offered his hand for them to shake. “Jack and Maddie Fenton, I’m detective Payton. Lead investigator for the case involving the dead body found in the woods, which I’m sure you’ve heard of.”

Maddie shook his hand and nodded. “We’ve heard that a body was found, but I’m afraid that that’s the extend of our knowledge.” She released his hand, but Jack was quick to grab it in her stead. The ensuing handshake was overly enthusiastic, and Payton forced himself not to grimace as Jack finally released his hand.

“Yes, we tried to keep details about the case hidden from the public. For that same reason, we must ask you to keep anything you learn during this meeting to yourself.”

Jack grinned, wide and boisterous. “Of course, detective! We won’t tell anyone!”

Maddie, however, frowned at Payton. “So why were we asked to come in?”

Payton licked his lips, weighing his words for a moment. “We believe that the case might involve a ghost.” It wasn’t a lie, per se, but the Fentons would likely assume that he meant that they suspected the killer to be the ghost in question. It wasn’t a detail they would normally give out, but the Fentons would probably blame a ghost for the murder anyway, with or without proof.

Maddie’s eyes narrowed, her expression twisting into something foul. “Yes, of course. We should have known that a ghost was responsible for such a vile act. What do you want to know?”

“We’ve already established that it has been too long after the fact to determine the involvement of ghosts based on traces of ectoplasm. Can we find proof in a different way? A certain characteristic in ectoplasm-based burns, or something along those lines?”

Surprisingly, it was Jack who answered. “No, unless the death was directly caused by supernatural means. A ghost can kill by using their intrinsic abilities, but they don’t have to. The only guaranteed way is by checking for traces of ectoplasm.”

“Are there certain conditions that would have prevented the ectoplasm from dispelling? By burying the body, for example, or by burning it to a certain degree?”

“No.” Maddie shook her head. “The ectoplasm that ghosts naturally expel, both in its gaseous form and in its energized form, dispels too easily to conserve.”

“Yeah, the only ectoplasm we can keep to work with is liquid ectoplasm! It’s what we use to power out inventions, you know?”

“So there is no way to prove, or disprove, the involvement of a ghost?” Payton frowned. He hadn’t thought that there was a way to prove ghostly involvement, but it would’ve been good to have proof.

Maddie sighed. “I’m afraid not. Even high amounts of ectoplasm would have evaporated by now, and if the death was caused with ghostly abilities, you would have been able to tell without involving ghost experts.”

Payton nodded, offering them another polite smile. “Well, thank you for your time regardless. We’re still going to interview your children, but you two are free to leave.”

“Our kids?” Jack frowned at him, puffing up with a rather protective air. “Why do you need to talk to our kids?”

Payton hesitated for a moment, trying to determine the best course of action. He decided to try and play on said protective nature to distract them.

“The victim was a teenager, likely around the same age as your children would have been at the time. They might have noticed someone disappearing, even if they hadn’t thought anything about it at the time.”

Maddie gasped as Jack melted back into a more relaxed position. “Oh, poor kid! Their parents must be so torn up about it.”

Jack nodded along, before booming his own answer. “Yes, if you find out which ghost is responsible, be sure to tell us! We’ll tear the ectoplasmic scum to pieces!”

“Yes, we’ll let you know if we need your services. For now, please keep the details quiet.” As they moved to leave the room, he called to them again. “Oh, and please ask your daughter to come in next.”

When Jasmine entered the room, Payton shook her hand and smiled. “I’m detective Payton, and you’re Jasmine Fenton, yes?”

She nodded and fixed him with an investigative stare that reminded him of her mother. “That’s me alright. Why did you want to speak to me?”

“There are… concerns about your family, especially your brother.” She stiffened slightly at the mention of Daniel, but melted back into a relaxed position almost immediately. Curious.

“What about Danny?” Her tone was sharp, accusing. She knew something, but wasn’t going to give it up easy. Payton had to play this carefully.

“His track record with school is worrying. Between his low grades and frequent truancy, people are afraid that something is up with him.”

The gaze she set on him was calculating, and Payton realized that this girl was taking in and memorizing every single thing he said (and even what he didn’t say). He would have to watch his words, or he might accidentally let details about the case slip.

The expression on her face shifted into something less accusing, and she shrugged. “Yes, I agree that it is concerning. But I don’t think that it’s problematic enough to involve the police.”

Payton resisted the urge to scowl at her, and raised an eyebrow instead. “You aren’t worried about the fact that your brother has changed these last few years?”

“Nah,” she scoffed. “He’s a teenager, I would be worried if he hadn’t changed.”

Payton considered asking her more, but he could still see her analytical gaze beneath the carefree mask she put on, and decided to cut off the interview. She was too sharp, and he decided not to risk her figuring out details they were trying to keep hidden.

Instead he waved his hand towards the door. “Thank you for your time, Jasmine. You’re free to leave.”

Daniel entered the room with a hesitant expression on his face, and Payton caught a glimpse of doctor Beckett as she guided him in. She must have been on her way to watch the interview from behind the glass.

Payton put on his most encouraging smile and offered his hand. The boy accepted it, his own hand slightly cool to the touch, but not inhumanly so. Nothing about it suggested that this kid was a ghost.

But Payton wasn’t convinced so easily.

“Daniel Fenton, I’m detective Matthias Payton. Please, have a seat.”

The boy nodded and slumped into the seat before quirking an eyebrow towards Payton. “So uh, what’s up?”

Payton frowned inwardly at the typical teenage behavior. He knew he should’ve expected it, because if Daniel was, in fact, a ghost, the specter would have been skilled enough to fool the entire town into thinking it was a regular teenager. But still, it didn’t make his job of finding out the truth any easier.

Instead he sat down in his own chair. “You’ve heard of the body found in the woods, yes?”

Daniel nodded. “Uh, yeah. There are a bunch of rumors and stuff about it at school, but I’m not sure which of those are true and which aren’t.”

“The only thing the public currently knows is that we found the body. Everything else is speculation or guesswork.” Payton quirked an eyebrow at the boy. “So anything you learn from this conversation has to be kept quiet, okay?”

He nodded again, more vigorously. “Of course, I completely understand.”

“Good, good.” Payton kept his eye on the boy, to get the best possible read on his reaction to the news. “The body we found belonged to a teenager. Would’ve been about your age at the time of death.”

He wasn’t sure what kind of reaction he had expected from the kid. Definitely recognition, though.

But that wasn’t what he got.

No, instead the boy clenched his fists, a scowl on his face. His eyes light up with intense fury, and Payton could have sworn that the irises turned a vivid green, but after the boy blinked his eyes were their regular icy blue. For all intents and purposes, the kid looked like he was ready to go out and deal with the person responsible for the crime himself, if only he knew who it was.

It wasn’t even remotely similar to Payton’s expectations, and thus it caught him completely off-guard. He wavered for a moment, hesitating. But if the boy didn’t know anything about the body in the woods, then there was nothing Payton could learn from him. Not now, at least.

He cleared his throat, and the boy snapped back to attention, forcibly relaxing. “You’re free to leave, Daniel.”

The kid blinked at him, as if dazed. His reply was similar. “Huh?”

“We’re done with the interview, you’re free to leave.” Seeing the boy hesitate, he flapped his hands towards the door. “Go on, shoo. I’m sure you have something better to do than hang out at a police station.”

“Uh, yeah.” Daniel nodded and finally stood up, moving towards the door. “Um, good luck with the case. I hope you figure out who did it.”

And with that, he left.

“Well! That was rather useless.”

Payton quirked an eyebrow at Rosie in answer to her declaration. “You don’t know that.”

“Yeah I do,” she huffed. “The parents obviously didn’t do it, and they don’t seem to be aware of the fact that Daniel might be a ghost either. The oldest child, the daughter, was admittedly a little sketchy, but she’s protective of Daniel. Maybe she knows that he died, but she definitely won’t tell us.” She shrugged at the rest of the team. “And Daniel, or the ghost replacing Daniel, didn’t know anything either. So yeah, all of this was rather useless.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.” Rosie whirled around to look at Beckett, who rolled her eyes at the other woman and sighed.

“You’ve already established that the parents aren’t responsible for Daniel’s death, and neither is his sister. Based on what I saw during Daniel’s interview, and what you’ve stated as well, the boy doesn’t know anything about the situation. Which means that the ghost isn’t the killer either.”

“So that leaves us with two possibilities for the identity of the ghost. One,” Payton held up a finger, “is that this is the ghost of Daniel Fenton, but he forgot about his death when he became a ghost. Or two,” he raised another finger, “this is some random ghost who decided to pretend that it was Daniel, and it never stopped.”

Mike hummed, thoughtfully. “I think his reaction was very interesting. Strange, too. He seemed genuinely angry about either the situation, or the fact that a teenager died. But there was no recognition of any kind, like he didn’t even consider the possibility that it was his body that was found. I don’t know what to make of that, though.”

“Yes, if this is Daniel’s own ghost, he doesn’t know anything about the circumstances of his death.” Beckett frowned. “I would suggest the possibility that he might not even be aware of the fact that he died at all, but between the avoiding of doctors and what we know of ghosts, I find that unlikely.”

“So now what? We invite him back and demand to know if he’s a ghost or not? Figure out some way to determine if he’s Daniel Fenton?” Rosie scoffed.

“Actually,” Payton drew out the word, “we probably should talk with him again. But first we’ll need to find some way to identify him without him figuring out what we’re trying to do. If this is, in fact, some random ghost, we can’t afford to have it find out. If it knows what we’re trying to do, it will do its best to stop us from identifying it.”

#dark writes #Danny Phantom #disinterred #phanfiction #phanfic #danny fenton #dp fanfiction #dp fanfic #if this doesnt post in the tags im gonna be upset #also next weeks title:#chapter 3: how does it feel to be a ghost

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princessmovieticket · 6 years ago

Text

Just a vent

Fucking pharmacist, skimming medications.

I take lorazepam for these catatonic state I get into. Muscles spasticity happens (extremely tight muscles), my whole body goes ridged, my mind does too, it's hard to process actions, I get a fixed stare difficult to break.

It's almost impossible for me to do anything without it.

(Which sucks. I wish I could take something else because the memory problems have become crippling. But for the time being, this is what I'm perscribed, and I need it).

I break 1 pill into 4 pieces, and almost never go over two of those pieces a day, so it last a long time, should last 60 days.

Or so one would think.

A year ago I started realizing it was running out insanely fast, it didnt make sense.

I'm alone nearly 24/7. No one's around to take it. And I have my med schedule down.

I can't pick up my scripts because I am physically unable to leave my apartment, so I'm unable to count in person.

Eventually I started counting when I got the bottle.

Then I had whoever was picking it up count in person. (But if I forget to remind them, they forget to do it, mom).

Sometimes many were taken, sometimes it was 1. Then there would be none taken. The next time 4.

I went about almost 4 months back because I had an appointment the same day. Since I was there I asked the woman ringing us up to count it out, sure enough 2 weren't there.

The pharmacist said "Oh no, so this has happened before? Okay. Well we'll fix this for today."

There was a moment of, "is someone here stealing meds, does the girl in front of me potentially have a problem, or was this just a mistake."

So she tried to brush it off, as it was only 2 pills, and hopefully a mistake. If someone working there was taking medications that's a big deal. And if it was just a mistake, looking into this could cause unnecessary problems.

I don't blame her.

I also do not like starting shit and will avoid it if possible.

Ever since they haven't been missing. The bottle lasting as long as it should.

But fuck.

Alas.

It has happened again.

And I wasn't looking for it.

I didn't want to be looking for it.

And hey, It's not a good look needing a control substance medication because it ran out several days before I can get it refilled.

And weirdly, even though I need it, I feel way too vulnerable to put myself out there and do anything.

I get to withdrawal from a benzo I have to take daily. While already having a nervous system that acts like it's in continuous benzo withdrawal.

There should be Joan Jett type grit and strength coming out and saying "Ya know what, motherfuckers? No. This ends now."

But see, I normally leave the house once a month and spend a week recovering. Howeves, in the last two weeks I've had to leave 5 times all for medical appointments. (Granted, one was dental) but 3 were for severe migraines. I'm having a hard time willing any activities at the moment, even if not doing them makes things shittier.

And I'm terrified of summing energy I don't have to go to the pharmacy and say

"someones been stealing my lorazepam"

And them saying

"Maybe you lost track of how many you were taking, you know memory loss is a major side effect"

"Uh, I think YOU'RE trying to steal lorazepam."

*severe migraine intensifies. Sensory overload over loading. Emotionally and physically so done I just give up and proceed to lay against a wall in the pharmacy, no longer communicating*

*sigh*

Listen. I know I didn't do enough to make sure I was getting the correct amount and document when there wasn't. It's on me for not pushing for people to count when they are at the counter.

But in my defense, it already sucks I have to ask someone to run errands like picking up my meds for me. Specifically my mom. She takes care of 5 children, basically by herself. She's raising my older sisters kids. And when she has the time to do something for me, I just don't want to add stress. She has got so much to do already, it is absolutely unfair how much she has to handle, and I'm greatful for when she fits me in to make sure I have meds and food. I'm pretty sure my mom is running on sheer will power and is able to to so because she literally doesn't have a second when she can stop and emotionally process, or reflect on life.

(It's kind of terrifying to be honest. Especially since she has her own medical problems. The amount of strength she summons, holy shit. It would be wild to see where that inertia went if she didn't have to take responsibility for so many humans. Super Sayian midwest mother).

She shouldn't have to count to make sure the correct amount is in there. Neither should I. Neither should any one getting their meds.

So fuck you. Whoever you are, anonymous pharmacist.

I'm throwing these words into the tumblr void. You may never know it, but somewhere on the internet is a small post voicing how you fucked them over.

I hope someone with more energy pulls a sting on your operation. Buys back their own pills from you and gets you shut down.

And for the off chance you are doing it for some kind of legitimate need,

I hope that whatever is medically or financially needed for you or someone you care about, becomes possible for you to get.

But either way,

Stop.

Stealing.

Meds.

These are not just the "fun drugs".

Some of us, rare as we may seem, need them to function. To do basic and essential things like making a meal or showering.

You're profiting off hurting people.

Please be better. This isn't worth it.

#vent #spoonie stuff

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prettywordsyouleft · 6 years ago

Text

Dad! Kang Daniel A-Z

So I see a lot of those NSFW A-Z’s of idols and decided to try something different and do Dad! Daniel A-Z. I hope you like this, it was a bit of fun for the afternoon! These are just my thoughts, not what I expect Daniel to do in the future lol!

I’m open to writing actual Dad! Daniel fictions in the future too, if you’d like something more than scenario based!

AFFECTION

Daniel is very affectionate with his children. He loves cuddling with them, and was sad when the older girls started to grow out of enjoying his hugs constantly. He loved the feeling of being their security blanket, and relishes it whenever they let him now.

BIRTH

He was there throughout every birth. He couldn’t imagine letting you go through it all alone. Anything you needed, he got you. The type to come with a bag of snacks that he knows you like, but eats them himself because he’s grown nervous. After the first child he had a little more understanding of what was going to happen, but since each delivery was different, he would still find himself questioning how to be your biggest support. Wanted to cut the umbilical cord of your first child but felt too hesitant. Definitely did it for the others.

CONSISTENCY

Daniel is mostly consistent and follows through with your mutual parenting regime. If he’s really tired he’s most likely to give in then, and so you try your best to make sure he isn’t left alone when in that state - after your daughter convinced him to buy her the expensive doll house you had told her she couldn’t get, you weren’t prepared to take any further chances.

DAD SKILLS

Understanding how to communicate well with each of your children depending on their age and stage. Changes his language to suit their needs and all your children have always felt at ease because communication for needs and wants flows easily.

EDUCATION

Hands on approach more so than with books. Likes to set up fun experiments in the weekends to teach and play with. Very interested in sports and helps his children with them. Likes being involved in the school as much as he can and fosters a program for performance. Your children that are in school are all pretty well known because of their Dad and are very proud to point out their Dad whenever they see him at school too.

FUN

Has almost as much fun playing with some of the toys and activities as your kids do. Is known as the fun Dad within the neighbourhood and at school. The type to not batter an eye through an intense pretend tea party with the girls, and gets really into eating all that yummy pretend cake that it makes you laugh.

GETTING THROUGH PREGNANCY

Daniel was always supportive. The type to get up and buy you the thing you’re craving at 3am even if he’s just rolled into bed an hour ago. Was always worried when you suffered from morning sickness, even after the first born. Went to every scan and read pregnancy books with you in preparation. Knew when to comply and challenge your hormonal behaviours well.

HOW MANY

Four. You wanted two, he wanted three, somehow you ended up with an extra. Three girls and a boy. Whilst Daniel was thankful for his son to not outnumber him alone, he loves raising little girls and is pretty chuffed to be known as the Daughter-Daddy within your group of friends. Does a lot of rough and tough with his son, after years of tea-parties, he’s all too happy to have a son to experience new adventures with.

INTIMACY

Despite having children, your intimacy is still pretty decent. The kids groan cheekily whenever they see you both kiss, but hugging is constantly something Daniel does with you regardless. The kids all love it, snuggling up for movie night is a family favourite.

Your sex life isn’t as active as it once was, about 1-2 times a week. Which when you think about it, with four kids, it’s pretty great to be that active still!

JOB

Daniel’s idol life continued through the first baby, but after that he opted to run his own company, helping train idols with the knowledge that he gained through a very successful career. He still managed to do spot performances with WANNA ONE for anniversaries, and with his fellow MMO members, but he knew with four kids, and his age, he needed to find something more stable and city-based. His schedule was still packed, but he ensured he made time in it for activities with his family too.

KID FREE TIMES

You both made a point to have date night every fortnight where you went out for the night. Admittedly you both messed up in the beginning, still talking about the kids, but after setting the rule not to discuss anything parenting wise, your date nights became something you both looked forward to a lot.

Whenever the kids were in bed and you both were home you’d just cuddle up and catch up with each other and waking up in the morning without a kid(s) in between you was rare, but very well received (and an easy way to get in one of those more intimate sessions – normally quickly with the thrill of getting it out of the way before being disturbed to start the daily grind, hah!)

You were both looking forward to the times where your kids could go on camp, but it was a wee way off to have all four out at the same time.

LIMITS

Since he works with large groups of young people every day, loudness is never a problem for Daniel. Nor is bustling activity, because he could just lay there and supervise if he was feeling a little tired. However what he couldn’t handle was the children fighting. He literally struggled with seeing them argue or physically hit each other, it really got under his skin. He would come down on them all pretty hard then, almost regretting it as soon as his harsh words left his mouth. He would often feel pretty low after it too, turning to you for support and building himself back up as a parent.

He also found the department store with four kids all wanting this that and another thing as well; all too overwhelming and either buy them everything or nothing at all to deal with the environmental chaos.

MUM ONLY

Daniel was pretty hands on with most things, but the one thing he couldn’t deal with is sickness. If one of the kids was sick, he panicked so much that your calm and collected approach was the one chosen in the end. He’d always flitter outside the door worriedly asking you how they are every few moments, and when your second daughter broke her arm falling off her bike he was an absolute wreck. He really is emotional for his kids. Funny thing, he could take very good care of you if you’re sick. Which with four kids, when it made its rounds, you were very grateful you had him for nursing you back to health.

NUTRITION

Loves making meals for his family with you. As a unit you’re both big on meal prep. Looked up good healthy kids snacks and most of the time insists on them. But also the type to blow their entire diet and throw them on a sugar high at least once a month as a treat. Uses ice-cream as a bribery tactic often. When your eldest daughter had her first dental check and had early tooth decay signs in one of her baby teeth (lol), Daniel insisted on a month long stringent of eating well, until the tooth fell out and he realised that brushing twice a day and eating well in moderation was better than preventing pretend cake at the tea parties. The girls had been very anti-Daddy during that stage.

OUTER VILLAGE

Very close with Seongwoo’s, Jisung’s and Minhyun’s families especially and every summer would organise a vacation together. Would turn to Minhyun for a lot of parenting advice, even when you were the first out of the group to give birth. Good thing Minhyun’s full of sound knowledge!

PETS

You still have three cats and although he wanted more, it was hard for Daniel to share his cats with his kids. They would pull their tails and Daniel would just about dive on them to protect them. Spent a lot of time teaching the children the importance of respecting animals. Takes them to petting zoos often whenever he feels like there’s just not enough paws at home. Tried to convince you along with your third daughter that another cat would match the number of kids, but you didn’t buy into it so three it remains.

QUALITY TIME

Despite his schedule, Daniel insists on quality one on one time with his children. He takes each girl on a Daddy date which they all love, and often goes out with your son to play. Tries to read to each child before bed in the weekends, though your eldest now reads to him and puts him to sleep instead, oops.

REPRIMANDING

Daniel isn’t the type to like telling your children off. He’d rather negotiate and find a happy medium than scold and take things from them. He’s a sucker for their tears too, but overall if he has to; he will give them consequences and will stick to them too. Usually the harshest when he finds them physically pushing one another around, and he really has no time for disrespect in his household.

SPOILED?

Yep. The “perks” of raising three princesses means they all have princess rooms and all the things they generally wanted, except the knight in shining armour (Daniel is not prepared for this stage and often worries about it even though your eldest is only seven lol). His son has the latest games, a bunch of bikes and skateboards and the backyard is full of play equipment to entertain them for hours. The type to think of his children (and you) and buy little gifts whenever he travels. Hates when you purge the toy room as much as the kids do. He tries to be modest but the fact is, the kids have him whipped, sigh.

TECHNOLOGY

Prefers your kids to have fresh air and exercise over being in front of devices. You mirror these thoughts and were very conscious about how much time they got in front of technology. Is freaking out about when puberty hits, since your eldest is already asking for her first phone.

UNCLE

Known also as the fun uncle. Invites all the kids over in the weekend and lets them play on all the fun things at your house. Believes in child play being the best time of your lives and really instils this in all children he crosses paths with. Sungwoon is always whining to you that his son loves Daniel more than him. Comes up with crazy over the top children days with Jaehwan and you’ve given up trying to calm them down.

VALUES

Believes a family that talks about how much they love each other is the type to have a good constant flow of communication. And so he always makes sure everyone is talking well to each other, and it’s why he gets so upset when the children pick on each other.

WHAT CHANGED MOST

You wonder where your homebody of a husband went, but having kids truly made him want to make life as magical as he could for them. Even though he loved staying home, he’d always be pottering around the house doing something with them. It was somewhat a plus, because it meant you could do your own things when he was home, and allowed you some much needed me-time, but the change could still throw you off some days.

X-FACTOR (TALENTS)

Was very into seeing what talents your children would have early on and supporting it immediately. Your kids had gone through various hobbies like they had their underwear at times, but eventually you found that your eldest loved dance, your second child was in gymnastics, third loved horse riding, and your son was playing soccer and hockey. Daniel was very attentive to any need they had for pursuing their interests and was a very proud Dad with all their achievements.

YEARNING

Daniel’s life dream from here is almost complete. He’d love to move to the country one day, to let your children run free, but he likes the city life too, knowing how accessible it is for good education and amenities. Admittedly he’s happy with his four kids, but now and then, especially since Daehwi’s got his first kid on the way, Daniel can’t help but envision you pregnant again, he loved rubbing at your baby bump whenever you were pregnant.

ZZZs (SLEEP)

The kids’ bedtime starts at 7pm and the older two have until 8pm which is generally the busiest time of the night, considering it’s you putting all of them to bed alone because Daniel’s still at work. You have a routine in place which thankfully works, and you’re able to get a few hours peace to yourself until bed around midnight. Daniel is generally home around 10pm. In the weekends you both aim to sleep in, but due to poor sleep schedules from being an idol, Daniel still rises to his current schedule. Which is great because weekend cartoons with the kids is one of his favourite morning pastimes.

#kang daniel #wanna one #wannaonenetwork #wanna one daniel #wanna one imagines #wanna one scenarios #wanna one dad #kang daniel imagines #kang daniel scenarios #dad! kang daniel #kang daniel au #wanna one au #prettywordsyouleft requested

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