#packs connor ball

[callsign-dexter]

Dr. Uncle Will

Request: Hey I loved your most recent Connor Rhodes x sister!reader!!! Could you write a littlest Halstead one where she gets sick and Jay has to call Will for help?

Pairings: Jay Halstead x Daughter!Reader

Warnings: fluff, angst, sickness

Littlest Halstead

Masterlist

Jay Halstead was a great father to you, Y/N Halstead, and if you asked anyone if he was a good dad they would say that he's not just a good dad but a great dad. He has loved you ever since you were born and he thought he could spot anything since he was a detective but he was wrong and he found that out one night.

You were sick. You just felt run down and just overall felt like shit, especially when it came to playing your favorite sport, softball. Recently your entire 5th grade class had been going through a round of sickness. Some had the flu, some had a viral infection, and some just had a cold. You were lucky enough not to get anything until last week.

Jay had been busy with a case that he admits that he wasn't paying as close attention as he normally did. Even though he wasn't paying as much attention he did pick up some stuff like your lack of wanting to eat and you being really cuddly towards him, a movement that you only did when you were sick or getting sick. He wasn't concerned enough to call your uncle, Will Halstead, just yet but that would all change tonight.

You started to feel sick one Monday morning and it just progressed from there. Jay was in the kitchen preparing for his day at work and preparing your lunch for the day. He looked down at his watch and smiled when he saw that it would soon be time for your footsteps to start padding down the hallway. A few minutes went by and no sign from you which made him frown. “Wonder what the holdup is?” He asked himself as he put down what he was doing and walked to your room. He gently knocked on the door and usually he would get a response but he didn't. “Y/N/N it's time to get up for school.” He said using a soothing fatherly tone as he opened the door.

“Daddy?” You asked lazily looking up at him and he furrowed his eyebrows that's not like you.

“It's me, Baby Girl. It's time to get up.” He said coming to sit by you on your bed and just like a magnet you curled into him. He didn't think much of it, he just thought you wanted to be near him. “Are you ok?” He asked as he cuddled you and you nodded, you didn't want to inconvenience him.

“Yea I'm fine.” You lied easily. He didn't look convinced but went with it.

“Ok. We need to leave in 10 minutes so you need to get up and get ready.” He said and you nodded. He bent down and kissed your head and hugged you then he was getting up and leaving. Once he was gone you were sluggish to get up. It was like your movements were in slow motion and everything hurt but you powered through it. The time you got to the kitchen your father was already packing your lunch in your lunch box and grabbing your bag and waited by the front door. “Khloe and her mom are taking you to practice and I will pick you up after ball.” He said as he handed you some breakfast and your water bottle.

“Ok.” You said as you slipped on your shoes and then your backpack and took the lunch box from him. He nodded and then the both of you were out the door.

Once outside and in his truck that you loved so much you settled into the passenger seat and got comfortable. As you started to move you started to feel better and your dad picked up on this so the concern, he had this morning went out the window. You ate all your breakfast sandwich that your dad made that you loved and drank some of your water. He was really a good cook even though he doesn't like to admit it. The truck ride was filled with low music and quiet laughter and smiles. You definitely felt better after eating something. He pulled up to the school and parked and you got ready to get out. “Remember Khloe is taking you to practice and I will be picking you up.” He said and you nodded.

“Got it, Dad.” You added smiling and he smiled and nodded then you were getting out and opening the backdoor to grab your softball gear.

“I love you.” He said as he looked back at you.

“I love you too.” You said and then closed the door. He made sure you were in the school before driving off. You sighed preparing yourself to start the long boring day and the dreaded practice.

Throughout the school day you were back to feeling sluggish and your nose started to run. You also just wanted to lay down on something cold and take a nap. “Ms. Halstead, are you feeling, ok?” Mrs. Jean asked while everyone was at recess, you had been staying close to the bleachers and the students, which wasn't like you, you took a minute to respond but you nodded your head. She came over to you and sat next to you. It took a minute for you to notice she was there and you turned to look at her.

“I'm ok.” You said in a quiet voice.

“You look a little pale. Why don't you head to the nurse to lay down?” She asked in a concerning motherly tone; she did have 4 kids of her own. You shook your head.

“I'm really ok.” You said and she smiled softly at you.

“Ok. I won't push you. If you start feeling worse let me know and you can go to the nurse.” She said and you nodded at her and then she got up and left.

Lunch came and you didn’t feel like eating so you hardly ate anything. You left the rest in the lunchbox and went on with your day. The rest of the day you just dragged throughout the day not having the energy to do anything. When it came to gym class Mrs. Link let you set out because she could see how much you were struggling today. By the end of the day, you were feeling worse and you just wanted your dad but first you needed to get through softball practice.

“Hey, are you ready to go?” Khloe asked as she came up to you with her bag and gear. You looked at her smiling and nodded.

“Yea, I’m ready.” You said and she smiled and the two of you walked out. You grabbed your water bottle and downed half of it as you got to her mom’s car. Drinking something helped so you weren’t too concerned.

“Good afternoon, girls. Did you have a good day at school?” Khloe’s mom asked.

“It was alright.” You said and she frowned.

“You look a little pale my dear. Are you feeling, ok?” She asked as she looked at you.

“She hasn’t been feeling good since this morning.” Khloe said and you elbowed her. “What? I could see it when you walked in and didn’t say hi to me.” She said and you huffed and sunk into the seat. Her mother nodded but you knew she was still concerned. The car ride to the field was filled with car music and Khloe and her mom talking and laughing. You would comment when needed but you were just trying not to throw up. When you arrived at the field all three of you got out. You and Khloe grabbed your gear and you your backpack and walked over to the dugout and started to get ready.

You went through the motions of practice not really putting in the effort and everyone could see that which is why you had gotten pulled over to the side by Coach Ludgate. “Sweetie, are you feeling, ok?” She asked and you shrugged your shoulders.

“Yes.” You said and she looked at you in a concerned fatherly look. “No.” You admitted and he smiled softly at you and nodded.

“I can tell. You’re red in the face and you look pale. You also don’t seem as energetic as other times. Why don’t you go sit in the dugout out of the sun and cool off? Can’t have my best player collapsing on me.” He said smiling and you smiled back and walked sluggishly back to the dugout and laid down on the bench and closed your eyes. You don’t know how long you had your eyes closed but you then felt something cool being draped over your head. Your eyes shot open quickly and you came face to face with your dad.

“Dad?” You asked and he smiled, running a hand through your hair.

“Hey, Baby Girl. Thought I would come early and watch you practice. When I asked where you were they led me here.” He said and tears welled up in your eyes. “What’s wrong?” He asked as you sat up.

“I don't feel good.” You said quietly and he nodded, smiling softly.

“Let’s get you home. How long have you been feeling this way?” He asked

“Since this morning.” You said as you got up and grabbed your stuff and he nodded. He turned to look at your coach and he nodded and so the two of you made your way to his car and then home.

“Why didn't you let me know?” He asked as he threw your bags into the backseat.

“You were busy and I didn't want to disturb you or put more on your plate because you had a sick kid.” You said and his heart broke. For such a young kid you were smart and very generous of people's feelings.

“I would do anything for you.” He said and you nodded and sank into the cool leather of his truck. The ride home was quiet and uneventful; you had actually closed your eyes and fallen asleep. The music was down low so as to not disturb you. Jay was beating himself up, he should've seen the signs, he should've asked questions, he's a detective he should be able to pick up on things especially when it came to his own daughter. But you were just like him and you hid a lot of things well and you didn't let emotions show. By the time you got to the apartment you were out. He parked the truck and turned off the ignition. He sighed “Looks like I’ll be carrying you.” He said, chuckling to himself. He opened his door and got out then went over to the passenger side first grabbing your backpack and slung it over his shoulder and then he quietly shut the door and opened the passenger door. He quickly worked to get you unbuckled and then he picked you up, you threw your arms around him out of habit and buried your head into his neck. The moment your head touched his skin he knew how sick you were. You were warm despite having the ac blowing in the truck. As he situated you in his arms, he shut the door and locked it and started to head to the building.

“Good afternoon, Jay. I see you have a sleepy one.” Mrs. Mueller Quell, your elderly neighbor, and Jay smiled and nodded.

“Yea, she's not feeling good at the moment. Going to get her settled.” He said and she smiled and nodded.

“You should make her your famous chicken noodle soup. I know me and Grant love it.” She said

“I just might do that. We'll see you later.” He said and she smiled.

“If you need anything let us know. We've taken care of a few sick kids.” She said as she began to walk away to the mailroom.

“I will be.” He said as he got onto the elevator and pressed the button for the correct floor. He was amazed that you had slept through that interaction. As the elevator went up and eventually dinged, he walked out. In just a few quick long strides he was arriving at the door. He skillfully got his key out and unlocked it making sure to quietly shut it as he walked in. He sat your bag down and kicked off his shoes. He walked over to the couch and gently set you down but you had a grip on him like no other and he chuckled. He gently pried your grip apart and then laid you down, took your shoes off, then covered you up with a light thin blanket. He went into the kitchen to grab the children's Tylenol and pulled up the right dose and walked back into the living room. He hated to wake you up but he needed you to take it. “Baby Girl, can you wake up and take this for me? I promise you can go back to sleep.” He said as you opened your eyes and took the medicine and went directly back to sleep. He walked into the kitchen and put the now dirty cup in the sink. He then went to your backpack and there he sat your shoes down. He picked up your backpack and set it on the table and started to unpack it. At first it was all normal and he saw all the work that was sent home but everything was done and he smiled. You always finished your homework early; he had asked why and you responded casually saying that if you got it done early you could have more play time. He was shocked but he understood it and it was actually smart. As he was going through your backpack his phone started to ring. The shrill of the ringer was loud and he was quick to take it out of his pocket and answer it without looking at it just to get it to stop ringing and not wake you up.

“Detective Jay Halstead.” He said quickly.

“Well hello Detective Jay Halstead.” Hailey’s voice came through with a chuckle.

“Sorry, Hails. I didn't look at my phone. What's up?” He asked

“I just wanted to see if you and Y/N wanted to go out to a movie and ice cream.” She said and he smiled at that and looked over at you still sleeping. He began seeing Hailey when you were 9 years old and had just turned 10 years old. She was making the effort to connect with you and it was working.

“We're going to have to take a rain check on that. She's not feeling all that great. Didn't even practice at softball.” He said

“Oh man she must be bad off. That's not like her. She loves the sport.” She said and he smiled loving the thought that she actually paid attention to your interests.

“Yeah, she does.” He said, chuckling.

“I could pick some stuff up and come over.” She offered

“I would like that and she would too. She's asleep right now.” He said

“Anything specific you need?” She asked

“I think I'm out of children's Tylenol, just gave her the last dose, and cold medicine, do you mind getting that?” He asked

“Not at all! I'll be over there soon.” She said

“Thank you.” Jay said

“Anything for my boyfriend and his lovely daughter.” She replied and he smiled and chuckled and then they were both hanging up the phone.

When Jay got your lunch box, he pulled it out and opened and was shocked that there was most of your lunch still left. You love your food and would take any chance to eat it. All this just told him how sick you were. “Oh, Baby Girl.” He said, sighing. He got all of the stuff out and put the items that needed to be refrigerated in the fridge.

“Daddy?” You asked sitting up and he was over to you in a matter of seconds bending down in front of you.

“Hey, Baby Girl. What's wrong?” He asked and you looked at him. Your eyes weren't as bright as they usually are and you overall just didn't look great.

“I'm hungry.” You said and he smiled and ran a hand through your sweat soaked hair.

“Do you want some soup and crackers?” He asked and you nodded.

“Please.” You said and he smiled and nodded. He had taught you to be polite from a young age. Before he left, he grabbed the remote and handed it to you. You turned it on and turned on Disney+ and turned on Wizards of Waverly Place. You settled in as Jay went to the kitchen to see what soup he had on hand in the meantime. He grabbed the saltine crackers and then some canned chicken and noodle soup. He would have to go to the grocery later, he would've had Hailey pick it up but there was more he needed to get and he didn't want her to pay for his groceries. He quickly got to work on getting your food ready and when it was, he brought it into the living room and you sluggishly sat up and he could see this. He sat down and then gave it to you. You instantly cuddled into his side.

“Careful it's hot.” He said and you nodded and then started to eat. You ate about half of it and 3 crackers before you were handing it back to him and he was sitting it on the coffee table in front of you, you snuggled into him and he instantly cuddled you. As he sat there with you, he could hear now that you had become congested, he brought a hand to your forehead and frowned you were warmer than you were when he got you out of the truck. “You really don’t feel good do you, Baby Girl?” He asked as you snuggled into him more.

“No.” You said in a quiet voice and his heart broke. He kissed the top of your head.

“Hailey is on her way over with some medicine.” He said and you nodded but continued to snuggle into your father. It wasn’t 2 minutes later that there was a knock on the door and he was getting up to answer it but not without you whimpering out for him. “I’ll be right back. I promise. Hailey is here.” He said and you nodded and you let him get up but as he stood up and second later you were standing up and tucking yourself into his side.

“I don’t want to leave you.” You whined, tears welling up in your eyes and threatening to spill and a sniffle from you being sick and the tears.

“Ok ok you don’t have to.” He said as he picked you up and walked towards the door. You snuggled into him and wrapped your arms around his neck and legs locked around his waist. Yup you were definitely sick you were being super clingy. He got to the door and unlocked it then opened it and there stood his girlfriend/partner with bags of medicine and a cup holder filled with three drinks, milkshakes to be exact.

“Hey you two.” Hailey said and Jay smiled but you had already fallen asleep.

“Hey.” Jay said and leaned in to kiss her and she ran a hand through your hair. “I think she is asleep.” He said chuckling and she nodded in agreement.

“Well, she can have her milkshake later. I thought something cold would be nice.” Hailey said and Jay smiled as he led her in.

“You didn’t have to do that.” He said

“I wanted to. I love her like she is my own.” Hailey said having not seen his face since her back was turned to him as she put things away and your milkshake in the freezer. His face was one of love and appreciation.

“I can’t even begin on how to thank you.” Jay said and she shook her head.

“No need.” She replied as she turned around to look at Jay holding you and she practically melted right then and there.

“I’m going to try and go put her down. Then I will be right back out.” He said and she smiled and nodded.

“Take your time.” She said and he nodded and turned heading to your room. Jay walked down the hallway into your room he walked you to your bed and started to gently lay you down and you whimpered.

“No.” You whined as he laid you down and sat on the side of the bed.

“You’ll be much more comfortable here than on me. I promise. I’ll be in the living room with Hailey so I’ll be able to hear you if you call. Ok?” He asked and you looked at him tiredly and nodded.

“Ok. Tell her I said hi.” You said and it ended with a cough and he smiled as he ran a hand through your hair.

“I will. Now get some rest.” He said leaning up and kissing you on your sweaty hot forehead.

“Ok.” You whispered as your eyes closed and you were out like a light. He tucked you in and gave you your favorite stuffed animal and headed out of your room making sure to crack the door slightly. He looked at you one more time and then he was walking back to the living room.

“How is she?” Hailey asked

“She’s warmer than normal and she coughed which was new. She ate about half of her soup and 3 crackers before she was putting it down and snuggling into me before you got here.” Jay said

“What do you think it could be?” She asked and he shrugged.

“It could be anything. There has been some sickness going around her class but honestly don’t know.” Jay said as he grabbed your half-eaten soup and package of crackers into the kitchen. He put the bowl in the sink and the crackers back in the cabinet then he walked back into the living room, Hailey handed him his milkshake “Thank you.” He said and sat down and turned on Brooklyn Nine-Nine, a cop show that they were watching together. Jay slung an arm over shoulders and pulled her into him and they drank their milkshakes. They loved to comment on everything but it was mostly a show they didn’t have to really think about but with them both being detectives they ran the cases that were showing on the TV. They probably got about 3 hours into it, it was 8 PM, before you started to cough more and more and that concerned him. He had decided that he wouldn’t be going into work tomorrow and had let Voight know beforehand and he gave his approval saying family came first. “I’m going to check on her.” He said as he paused the show and Hailey nodded and sat up for him to go to your room. As he was walking to your room you started to cough more and more. He walked into the room and you were still sound asleep but coughing a really deep cough. He walked over and sat down on your bed and rubbed you back as you were turned onto your stomach. “Baby Girl.” He said and started to wake you up and all he got was a cough that he could feel wracking your body. “Hey, wake up.” He said as he started to pick you up and you snuggled into him.

“Daddy?” You asked followed by a cough.

“Yea, it's me. Hey, do you want to come into the living room with us? You coughing is worrying me.” He said and you looked at him and your eyes weren’t as bright as they were when you weren’t sick.

“Please.” You said and she smiled and got up and went into the kitchen to grab the milkshake. She put it in the microwave to soften it slightly and then walked back into the living room and handed it to you as she sat down. You took it but you were shaking and that concerned them both. Whatever you had zapped the energy out of you. “Thank you.” You said and took a sip of it and she smiled.

“Yea.” You said followed by a cough and he nodded and then he picked you up and took you into the living room. He was quick to dim the lights until it was semi-dark and Hailey was already making a spot for you between them. “Hi.” You said when you spotted her but it wasn’t as energized as before.

“Hi Sweetie.” She said with a smile as Jay sat down then he disappeared to grab more children’s Tylenol and come back in. He sat down on the other side of you and you somehow ended up more on him. “I heard you weren’t feeling good.” She said and ran a hand through your hair and you nodded snuggling more into your father and she smiled “I brought you a milkshake. Do you want it?” She asked and you looked up at your dad and he looked down at you and you nodded. You looked over at her and she could see the nonexistent light.

“You’re welcome, Sweetie.” She said

“Here, take this and wash it down with the milkshake.” Jay said and you nodded and said what you were told. Then they were turning their attention back to the TV as Jay pressed play. You watched it but didn’t pay any attention to it, not even finishing your milkshake. You were falling back to sleep and he was taking the cup out of your hands and putting it on the side table.

“She only drank half of it. She’s definitely not feeling well.” Jay said as you let out a cough.

“I hope she feels better soon. I hate seeing her like this.” Hailey said and Jay nodded.

“Me too.” He said

Around an hour later Jay was putting you back into your bed and he was bye to Hailey and he was heading off to get ready for bed and when they were done, they slid in and fell into a somewhat peaceful sleep. You coughed and coughed throughout the night and it seemed like it got worse when you were laying down. Jay being your parent had parent ears on all the time and they never turned off so when you stopped coughing during the night he was instantly awake and sitting up. He walked into the room and he was instantly kneeling by your bedside and he could see you breathing and he sighed but he wanted to wake you up just in case. “Y/N. Baby Girl. Can you wake up for me?” He asked as he petted your hair and you let out a cough and slowly cracked your eyes as best as you could but they were almost like caked shut and he could see that. “Oh, Baby Girl.” He said as he started to take the goop away from your eyes. As you started coughing again you started wheezing and that brought a new worry to your father that was new. It was time to call Will. “Come here.” He said picking you up and taking you into his bedroom and laid you down on his bed while he picked up his phone and unlocked it and pulled up his brother’s contact information and pressing call.

“I’m sorry for waking you up but no everything isn’t ok. Y/N is sick and at first, I could handle it but then she started coughing and just a little bit ago she stopped and now her eyes are filled with goop and she is wheezing.” Jay explained keeping watch over as you slept and wheezed.

“Jay? It’s 4 in the morning. Everything ok?” Will asked, voice full asleep.

“Has she been running a temperature?” Will asked

“She didn’t even practice?” Will asked

“She’s been running hot ever since I picked her up from softball practice where she was lying on the bench.” Jay said

“No, she was pale and sweaty and red in the face.” He replied

“Oh, damn she must be really sick. Go get a thermometer and take her temperature and tell me what it is.” Will said and Jay did just that. “Have you given her any medication?” He asked.

“No, not recently.” Jay said as he walked into this bathroom to retrieve one of many thermometers. “She had a dose of children's Tylenol when we got home and then at 8 PM.” Jay said as he grabbed it and then walked back into the bedroom. “Alright, I'm taking her temperature now.” He said and put it in your ear and you didn't move you were so sick you didn't even care.

“Has she thrown up any?” Will asked, already getting out of bed and getting ready to head over to the other Halstead household.

“No.” Jay said as the thermometer beeped. “102.2.” He read it out loud.

“It should've gone down with the children's Tylenol.” Will said, worrying about his one and only niece. “Let me hear her.” He said and Jay put the phone on speaker and put it next to you. You coughed and started to wheeze and Will sighed. “Let me grab some stuff from the hospital and I'll be right over.” Will said.

“Ok.” Jay said “We'll see you soon.” He said and then they both were hanging up the phone. Jay was worried and now Will was worried. He hated waking his brother up after he worked a 24-hr. shift but he didn't know what to do. Jay laid down next to you and shut his eyes.

30 minutes went by and he was jerking awake by a knock on the door and he was making sure you were breathing before he got up. He was surprised you didn’t wake up to the knock because you were such a light sleeper much like him. You coughed and were still wheezing and that broke his heart. He was quick to get to the door and open it to reveal his brother. “Hey, how is she?” Will asked as he walked in and Jay closed the door.

“Still wheezing and coughing.” He said as he led Will to his bedroom.

“Has she had anything to eat?” His brother asked and he nodded.

“Half a bowl of soup, 3 crackers, and half a milkshake.” Jay replied

“Normally she would eat everything. She has a fast metabolism.” Will said as they walked into the bedroom and you were in the middle of bed.

“That’s what I’m worried about. What did you have to get?” Jay asked

“I went and got a nebulizer with some medicine that will help with the wheezing and hopefully it’ll help with the cough as well.” He said

“What do we do about the coughing?” Jay asked as he stood arms crossed watching you and Will was looking at him.

“You need to be careful not to suppress a productive cough too much, unless it's keeping her from getting enough rest. Coughing can be useful, it can help clear the throat and airway of germs, mucus and dust. If it doesn't go away or comes with other symptoms like shortness of breath, mucus production or bloody phlegm then that could be the sign of a more serious medical problem and would need to be addressed.” Will said giving out medical information easily and keeping it to where Jay could understand it. Jay nodded glad to have a doctor for a brother.

“What should we do first?” Jay asked

“I wanna assess her and then go from there and that means unfortunately waking her up.” Will said and Jay said and nodded and went and sat down on the bed and began to wake you up. When you were awake and looked at him confused you then spotted Will and gave him a weak smile and he sadly smiled back at you. He could tell right away that you didn’t feel good. He approached you and sat on the other side of the bed. “Hey, Kiddo. I heard you weren’t feeling good.” He said in a sympathetic voice he used for his younger patients. You shook your head and cuddled into your father.

“Yea.” You said in a quiet voice and that wasn’t like you. You then coughed and coughed until you started gagging. Will was quick to grab the empty trash can by the nightstand and thrust it under just in time for you to expel everything in your stomach, which wasn’t much. Jay held your hair and rubbed your back.

“It’s ok, Baby Girl. Let it all out.” He said and once you were dry heaving you practically collapsed into your father exhausted. “That was new.” Jay said and Will sighed he hated seeing you in such a state, you were naturally a strong-willed girl much like your father and to see you dwindle down to nothing saddens him. 

“I’m going to listen to you and take a couple of vitals. You don’t have to move from Jay, ok?” He asked

“Ok.” You said in a now hoarse voice. Having no energy you just sat there while Will checked you over, you actually started to fall asleep.

“Is she asleep?” Will asked and Jay looked down at you and your eyes were closed and head resting on his chest.

“She’s asleep.” Jay said, looking back up at his brother.

“She’s really is sick.” Will said and Jay nodded. “I want to get a dose of medicine from the nebulizer in her and I want her to be awake for that but if she falls asleep during it then it should be fine.” Will added and Jay nodded and once again he was waking you up and he felt so bad about it. When you were awake Will explained what the machine was and what it does and he could tell that you were listening but not fully there but enough to understand. He hooked the machine up and put the medicine in and then handed the piece to Jay who put it over your nose and mouth. At first you protested but when you started to feel better and not wheezing you embraced it and leaned into your father and started to fall asleep the brothers talked about whatever came to their mind mostly the recent Jayhawks game. Once the medicine was done, Jay, not having the heart to move you back to your room, tucked you into his bed and then the brothers were heading into the living room.

“How long do you think it’ll be before she gets better?” Jay asked

“I’m thinking and hoping in a couple days but it may take a week or two.” Will said and Jay sighed but nodded. Jay looked at his watch and saw that it was 5 AM. He looked up at his brother.

“I can either make us some coffee or we can try to get some sleep. Guest room is free.” Jay said

“I’m gonna get some sleep and I suggest you do the same.” Will said and Jay smiled.

“You’re the doctor, you know what is best.” Jay said a smile turning into a smirk and Will rolled his eyes but smiled. As they headed for the rooms Jay’s phone pinged and he looked at it. “Her school has been closed due to so many kids sick.” Jay said and Will nodded.

“That’s what needed to happen when all of this started.” Will said and Jay nodded in agreement. They walked into the rooms and Jay got into bed and somehow you sensed he was there because you were cuddling into him. He smiled and cuddled you kissing your head as he was doing so, he noticed that you weren’t wheezing anymore and the coughing had died down. Once he knew you were ok, he let himself relax and eyes closed and he actually fell asleep.

The next morning Jay was waking up and he was expecting you to be next to him but you weren’t and that made him confused until he heard the laughing coming from the kitchen and followed by your cough. He slowly got out of the bed and walked into the kitchen to find you and Will up to now good. “Good morning, Daddy.” You said in a hoarse voice when you spotted him and that made Will look over in his direction.

“Good morning.” Will greeted

“How are you feeling?” Jay asked and you shrugged. He could see your eyes were not as bright.

“Not great but not worse.” You said and coughed deeply and Jay was rushing over to you rubbing your back. After you were done you took a deep breath and nodded.

“You ok?” He asked and you nodded.

“I’m ok.” You said “We decided to make breakfast.” You said and he smiled and kissed your head.

“You’re actually trusting Uncle Will with the kitchen?” Jay joked

“Hey! I can cook.” Will defended

“No, that’s why I’m supervising.” You said throwing a signature Halstead smirk.

“Oh lord, good thing we have Firehouse 51 on speed dial.” Jay said and everyone laughed. The morning was filled with laughter and joking and eating and every now and then your coughs. By the afternoon you were in the middle of them passed out on the couch as they watched a random hockey game. By the end of the day Will had gone back home but he made Jay promise to keep him updated and he stuck to his promise. Throughout the next week you were getting stronger and light was coming back to your eyes. The coughing had subsided. Your school opened back up and Jay went back to work. You were actually able to get through a softball practice.

By week 3 you were back to normal. Your eyes were bright, you were eating like your normal self, and you were energized again. Everyone was currently at your softball game and of course you were winning. “She’s back to her normal self, I see.” Will said and Jay nodded.

“Yeah she is. I’m so glad about it too.” He replied

“She even had me worried.” Hailey said “I never have to worry about her, she is too much like her daddy that she doesn’t need to be worried about.” She added and everyone nodded in agreement. The crowd erupted in a cheer and they looked up in time for you to slide and steal home base to win the game. Everyone cheered and crowded around you. Once everyone cleared out and you grabbed your stuff you walked over to your dad, uncle, and Hailey.

“Great job, Kiddo!” Will said and brought you in for a tight hug.

“Thank you, Uncle Will.” You said and hugged him back.

“You did an amazing job, Baby Girl.” Jay said and hugged you after you got done with Will.

“You were amazing out there. I’m so glad you’re back to your normal self.” She said running a hand over her head and you smiled and looked up from your position from hugging your father and smiled at her.

“Thank you.” You said and then you snuggled into your father’s side and looked at Will. “Thank you for being Dr. Uncle Will.” You said and he smiled.

“Anytime, Kiddo. I hate seeing you so down.” He said

“We all do.” Jay said

You hated being sick and being down for so long. You hated not being up and doing something and you got that from your dad honestly. Hopefully you wouldn’t be getting that sick again but you never know what life would throw your way. Next time could be just a 24-hr. bug or it could put you in the hospital, you just never know.

Tag list:

@kmc1989

@els-marvelvsp

@atarmychick007

@nyx2021

@grandstrangerphantom

@angenu01-blog

@talesofreading

[toasttt11]

invitations

April 19, 2024

Cameron was curled up in a little ball on her couch laying next to Fraser, they were taking a break after having been packing up her apartment as she is going home in a few days and would most likely not be coming back next season.

Mr. Mack was curled against Fraser’s other side fast asleep agonist Fraser. Fraser was playing with Camron’s hair as they just relaxed in silence.

“Will you come visit in the summer?” Cameron nervously and softly asked Fraser looking up at Fraser.

Fraser’s eyes widen in shock and surprise, “You want me to visit?” Fraser questioned suprised she wanted him to visit her but he would gladly visit the girl who has stolen his heart.

“Yeah,” Cameron nervously nodded, “If you want to.” Cameron bit her lip looking hopeful, Fraser is very important to her and she wants him to see her home.

“Of course, i would love to Cam.” Fraser softly spoke smiling softly at her.

“Cool.” Cameron beamed at him, looking very happy that he would be coming out to Nova Scotia.

Cameron took a deep breath and lifted her head off the couch and rested her head gently down on to Fraser’s lap, “Is this okay?” Cameron hopefully whispered hoping he would not ask her to move.

Fraser swallowed nervously at her laying on his lap and he gently brushed her hair away from her face and softly tucked her hair behind her ear, “It’s perfectly okay.” Fraser watched as she smiled and she looked pleased making him looked pleased.

“When do you want me to come out?” Fraser quietly questioned after a few moments of comfortable silence, he wanted to make sure he left time in his summer so he come see her.

“Well how about the end of May?” Cameron asked and Fraser nodded in agreement not seeing why that wouldn’t work.

“Okay. Good. I should be back from worlds the latest the 27th.” Cameron added, the best case scenario is that she gets to the medal games and even then she would be back by the 27th.

“You’re going to worlds?” Fraser asked in surprise, he did not know she was going to be playing in Worlds.

“Yeah, i thought it would be good before my draft since i missed Juniors.” Cameron explained, “And Con is going to be playing so i’ll get to play with him as well.” Cameron added softly, one of the many reasons she was most excited to play at Worlds was being able to play with best friend again.

“That makes sense.” Fraser nodded his head in agreement, he was not surprised a reason she wanted to play was to play with Connor. Fraser has seen first hand how close the two best friends are.

“So i will come the 28th?” Fraser double checked as he gently twirled the ends of her chestnut brown hair around his fingers.

“Mhm.” Cameron softly agreed and closed her eyes contently.

[thegoofyfanaticus]

(( Art gifted from incredibly talented PoisonedMartini. Original story by me. )) Jordan released the hold after Santiago tapped out on his shoulder. The Latino fighter collapsed to the mat so exhausted and dejected that he was forced to tap to the rookie upstart on his home mat. Wasting no time in proclaiming his victory, Jordan kicked up, landed on his feet, and proudly placed his left foot down on top of Santiago's abs pressing in with just enough pressure for Santiago to feel it. Jordan felt the hard muscle of Santiago's abs under the ball of his foot. They slowly rose and fell as the Latino caught his breath, resigned himself to his defeat, and steeled himself for the inevitable punishment he would have to take. Jordan looked down at Santiago and smiled, "How's it feel to be out grappled, amigo?" Jordan leaned in a little adding pressure to his foot pressing into Santiago's abs, "Guess this pretty boy was more than enough challenge for you. Only wish you gave me more of a challenge." Jordan stood upright and flexed his chest for the crowd while his fists were on his hips. It was the perfect picture to showcase his victory in his Final Trial. Jordan was extremely happy and proud that he would now join the pack and make it before his rival. Sure, it may be only by a few weeks, at the most, but he could now say that he was a pack member before Connor. He did it first. He did it faster. The crowd around the cage cheered its approval of Jordan's victory. Jordan's boss smiled greedily as he thought of the sum of cash he just made wagering a small fortune on Jordan submitting the home-crowd favorite. He figured Jordan would impress and now that he had, he would ride Jordan's coattails on his way to making a fortune. He just had to make sure that Jordan was hooked on fighting here and would do it again. Jordan's youth and determination to show that he was the best made it easy for him to goad into fights and if Jordan could take on slightly bigger opponents that seemed a sure loss, then the money he could make was limitless. Jordan would be his golden goose not only for his company but for his private account as well.  Jordan took a step over Santiago, which included pressing down into Santiago's abs with his left foot, on his way to the edge of the cage. It was time to collect his winnings and head to The Warehouse to show Cody the good news and make his membership in the pack official. As Jordan headed to the cage door, he heard a deep male voice, "Jordan..."

[nevalizona]

A John and Connor fragment.

Slightly suggestive.

Please pardon any errors.

There are so many things you think about saying. You chew on your lip instead. You have to think so hard about what it is you want to say. He'll tear you apart the second he finds something weak to poke and prod at. A cigarette burned between your fingers. It was his, and now it's yours. Both of you are sweaty. The room is stuffy and humid. You put the cigarette out so you don't get burned twice.

You sit up now. You need to be heard.

“You can stay. You don't have to go.” You say this and regret it. Didn't think hard enough about what you wanted to say, and you wish you kept the cigarette lit.

“I don't have to do anything.” He's sharp. You didn’t want sharp. You curse at yourself and chew on your cheeks so hard you can taste blood.

“I know,’ your head is buzzing because you need him to not be upset with you. Is this desperation? It felt pathetic. ‘I'm just trying to tell you, you can stay. No need to rush.” You wish you could kick yourself. This desperate attempt at keeping him around because you don't want to be alone again is pitiful. It's just- he's the only man that will touch you. The only man that makes your heart race like this. He knows that he was the first man who ever touched you. The first man to lay his charm on you, so thick it was suffocating. He knows what he does to you. He enjoys it. Twisting your insides around, making you beg. For a split moment, you feel clarity. You think about his wife back at home. She’s felt this way before. Desperately trying to get him to stay. See her. Choose her over everything else that's going on with him.

Selfishly, this realization makes you warm. It makes your head spin. You're similar to her. Maybe not in the loving way. He doesn't love you, you know this. But you're fine being similar in the other way.

Another part of you is screaming at you that this is pathetic. This is pointless. Another man will look at you tenderly. Another man will want to touch your body, and his affection will not be conditional. Another man will see you as worthy. You won't be beneath him. He won't toy with you, knowing he can get away with it. You know this. You can feel it every time he jerks you around like the fool you are when he's present. You hate yourself when he leaves because you're a fucking idiot who just wants to be loved.

This clarity makes you see him in a different light. He's yanking his clothes back on. Rough. Always so damn rough. Everything about him is sharp. He doesn't have a delicate bone in his body. You want to hate him for manhandling you, even if it makes your head spin in the moment. You want to tell him you're worth more than he gives you credit for. This clarity happens on occasion. Your self-loathing dissipates, and you want to be the one to leave first. You want to grab your things and pull your clothes on like this was a waste of your time. You want to barely look at him as you tell him you'll see him later, leaving him there longing for more. You're tired of being played with like a fucking toy. You ball your hands into fists. You're telling yourself to stand up! Leave!

But then it happens, he shoots you a smile, and everything melts away at once. You melt into the cot, and you'd stay right here if you told you to. He runs his fingers through his hair to try to fix it a bit, so he doesn't look so disheveled.

“This was fun, Johnny.” His attitude from earlier slips away in a moment, and you wonder if it was even you that he was upset with earlier. Would it kill him to talk to you?

“It was.” You feel like you're walking through a minefield. One wrong thing, and he'll explode. His cheeky grin widens, and he walks over, grabbing his cigarettes from next to you, and pulls one out of the pack, tucking it between his lips. He's still sweating.

“Light?” He pats his pockets but can't find the lighter. You know where you keep one, but for some reason, you don't grab it. Maybe you don't want to be at his beck and call, for once. It's that little bit of clarity lingering.

“I was trying to find one earlier. That piece of junk is probably in a different pair of pants or something.” You're trying to be nonchalant, casual. This isn't important to you because it isn't important to him. You're still sweating, too.

“I think I have a spare somewhere. Take care of yourself tonight, Johnny. I'll see you tomorrow.” As he speaks, the cigarette tucked between his lips, bobs. You watch it like a fish waiting to be reeled in. You don’t want to ponder the implications so you don’t.

“Yeah, see you then.” You watch him as he slinks out of your tent. You lay back against your cot and wonder, for a split second, if this is what housewives feel like. You feel lonely and wish he's come back, but you know what today is and who it is that he'll be calling.

[peskellence]

Rule Of Nines

Betrayal Pt. 1

Explicit content, Graphic Violence (18+)

Pairing: Reed900

Tags: AU, Multi-Chapter, Lovers to Enemies, Kidnapping, Crime and Violence, Oral, Anal, Dom/ Sub

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Read on AO3 here:

Summary: In a world where loyalty is currency and compromise is weakness, Gavin Reed, a ruthless mobster, lives by his own rules. When an old enemy resurfaces with a deadly demand, his life is thrown into chaos-as his trusted second-in-command, Nines, is put to the ultimate test of allegiance. Will he stay committed to Gavin, or will the loyal guard dog begin to stray? (Human Mob!AU)

Warnings: Major Character Death (before events of the story), Graphic Violence, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Dubious Consent

Tag List: @sweeteatercat @wedonthaveawhile @ladyj-pl @tentoriumcerebelli @negative-citadel

If you would like to be added to the tag list for future projects, please let me know♡

In the days that followed, they continued to receive packages from DeLuca's gang. They painted a vivid timeline of everything their prisoner had endured at their hands, supplied in meticulous detail. It seemed like Connor couldn't so much as wheeze for breath or piss his pants without the entire process being captured on a grainy video feed. 

These recordings would be sent to the Reed Hideout in the form of more flash drives—of which they'd amassed quite a collection, piled high on the meeting room table. Gavin couldn't help but wonder where the snake had gotten them all. Perhaps he'd held up a local convenience store for their office supplies…

It wasn't just the videos, of course. They'd had plenty of other weird and wonderful shit arriving at their doorstep. At one point, they received a densely packed envelope containing nothing but cigarette butts. There'd been seemingly no reason for this until a day later when the photos came—mapping in meticulous detail where exactly they'd been stubbed. 

Very few of his men had the balls to open the mail after that, the last of the stragglers calling it quits following the most recent instalment in the 'Connor Torture Chronicles.' 

It was impressive, really. Just how quickly a room full of criminals could turn into a PTA of pearl-clutching moms when the blood being spilt on-screen belonged to one of their own. Had the inherited burden of the family not already inspired sickness in Gavin, their reception of DeLuca's ongoing media project would have more than secured his disdain. 

The video that had proved too much for their delicate sensibilities found Connor in a new location, much better lit than the dingy warehouse which usually hosted his suffering. 

Evidently, DeLuca wanted to make sure this most recent performance was made crystal clear for its audience, showcasing all its bloody glory.  No one had made it all the way through, with the last viewing attempt interrupted as one of the men loudly and violently expelled the contents of his lunch. 

In the relative security of his well-insulated (and much less pungent) office, Gavin pushed back the screen of his laptop and calmly resumed the clip:

↻      ◁     ||     ▷       ↺

Connor had been strapped by his wrists to a dilapidated table, secured with bulky leather binds. An unidentified contraption sat in front of him, looking like some long-forgotten relic from a medieval torture dungeon—or something out of a horror movie.

Rusted wires connected its mechanisms to a series of steel vices, which had been clamped around his fingers. They anchored the digits a few millimetres above the splintered wood, leaving a small margin of space. The scene remained motionless for a number of seconds, as though the screen had frozen until one of DeLuca's masked goons emerged in frame. 

They settled into a fold-out chair, its creaky frame groaning under their weight. Gavin could practically taste the expectant satisfaction oozing from them as the corners of their mask creased upwards, hinting at a concealed grin. Protruding from the side of the strange device was a small plastic dial. While it had been scarcely visible until now, it became much more apparent as the captor's hand shot towards it. His reach extended until a voice sternly dissuaded him—and the grubby appendage stilled, waiting. 

Faint mumbling could be heard off-screen, as though an unseen group were deliberating on the best course of action until the masked man was given the go-ahead in the form of a terse: "Now."  

He wasted no time obliging the instruction as the switch was swiftly turned. One of the wires lurched back, taking a finger with it and forcing it to yield to an increasingly distorted angle. As it snapped in two, splintered bone pierced Connor's flesh, resembling a broken tree branch.

Given his already grotesque condition, this newest injury was barely noticeable. Over the course of the week, his body had been transformed from a blank paper doll into a vibrant, morbid mosaic. Angry, blistered welts wrapped his skin, sectioning numerous cuts and bruises. 

His mind was clearly in similar ruin, as his head hung limply across his lap, dark eyes boring vacantly into the spring-lock mechanisms destroying his hands. He made no attempt to fight the restraints, nor did he try to plead through gagging binds of worn-out scotch tape. The room was silent, save for gurgles of pain and the repeated crunching of bones. 

↻      ◁     ||     ▷       ↺

Gavin paused the video, sliding the laptop to one side as he reached for a neglected packet of cigarettes. It had failed to tug any heartstrings, which he suspected was the intent. 

DeLuca and his gang could prolong the ordeal as much as they wanted; it wouldn't change his refusal to meet their demands. To him, the elimination of another undesirable bastard from his operations could only be considered a blessing.

What did get him thinking, however, was why Connor had been selected as the bargaining chip for the ill-conceived power play. It was no secret just how much Gavin loathed the man. No doubt Salvatore would have seen it himself during his time with the family. The frequent displays of vocal disdain and physical animosity were hardly subtle. 

Not that he tried to hide it. He wore his hatred of the eldest Anderson as a badge of honour, boasting his ability to see through his bullshit in a way that no one else could. That was the bastard's M.O., after all: a 'skilled negotiator and manipulator', as Dad liked to put it. 

The younger Reed favoured his own assessment, considering it more accurate. Connor was nothing more than a conniving, underhanded piece of shit. Someone who couldn't be trusted, with his purported 'skills' beginning and ending with his ability to convince people otherwise. 

Clearly, he wasn't that great of a fucking negotiator, having failed miserably to sleaze his way out of his current predicament. A mess that Gavin was fast suspecting he’d created for himself—

A sudden knock rang through the office, derailing his thoughts and causing his hands to falter as he attempted to ignite a cigarette. The flame brushed the inside of his palm, and he dropped his lighter, hissing in pain. He then glared at the door, regarding the man concealed behind it with appropriate disdain:

"Yeah? Who the fuck is it?"

The unidentified figure was silent, as though paralysed by indecision, inspiring greater annoyance. This ill will festered cleanly into a familiar sense of impatience as he barked another demand. "Either answer me now or right fuck off. I don't have all damn day." 

Even before recent events, it seemed most of his goons existed in perpetual fear around him. Maybe it was the threat of Nines pile driving them into the floor if they ever spoke out of line. It couldn't be a coincidence that the only person who'd ever shown the gall to charge him head-on, regardless of consequence, had always been Connor. 

He'd put an end to this misguided confidence as soon as he could once he'd taken over from Dad. Making it clear he wouldn't be giving the doe-eyed cretin any of the same special treatment. This also extended to Nines, as he firmly dissuaded the soft touch he had been lending his sibling. 

Because it wasn't deserved, it hadn't been earned. Gavin wasn't  his Dad, any more than Nines was his brother—

There was another knock on the door as a despondent voice spoke:

 "... It's me."

— At least, that's what he'd always believed. Until recently. 

The pitiful address brought with it a whole new wave of frustration. Having recovered from his brush with the lighter, Gavin picked it up, sparking the awaiting cigarette hanging from his lips. He inhaled deeply before releasing the coiling smoke from his lungs with a harsh growl. 

"Was wondering when you'd show your face," he grumbled out accusingly, "You've been pussyfooting around me all day." 

What followed was far more 'demand' than it was 'permission' as he fought the urge to grab the man by the scruff of his neck, hauling his ass through the threshold himself. "Stop dicking around and get in here, jackass." 

Nines had been terrible during the entire ordeal, and it was reflected in his Hellish appearance as he lifelessly skulked through the doorway. He looked like a zombie, his once meticulously styled hair hanging greasy and limp against his face. His fair skin was nearing grey from how sickly it had become; exhaustion formed in deep-set rings around his eyes. 

Even with the door no longer muffling his words, Nines sounded nothing like himself. His words came dull and monotonous, lacking their usual bite: "We received another delivery…a few minutes ago…" 

His movements were just as stiff as he idled by the foot of the doorway, a string-bound package clutched limply in his hands. The style of wrapping was all too familiar, making no secret of its origin. 

Gavin reclined in his seat. He kicked up his steel-capped boots and thumped them down on the desk, almost sending his laptop flying. As he took another drag of his smoke, he summoned the other man closer with a lazy beckon. "Well, better be something exciting if it's important enough to interrupt my 'me time'" 

Nines straightened up a bit, his slumped shoulders rolling in a tense bristle, but ultimately remained frozen. The timid movement inspired an ongoing ripple of disfavour, fanning the flames of the embittered resentment. 

Honestly, the mobster could have forgiven Nines' sudden glow down, and even his sudden shitty work performance, had his corpse-like appearance not come with a matching libido. 

It had been days since the man had last touched him. Longer than he'd ever been forced to abstain in the entire time of their 'arrangement'. The current distance between them felt staggering, and Gavin hated just how deeply it sought to affect him. 

"What are you waiting for? An engraved invitation?" His lips twisted into a bitter snarl as he fired off a biting instruction. " Now , dipshit."

Slowly, Nines dragged his heels to where Gavin was sitting, moving in small, laboured shuffles. His lax grip was relinquished as he deposited the parcel onto the grimy surface of the desk.

He toyed with the strings, exerting minimal effort as he loosened them. The paper beneath fell away to reveal a tape-bound box, which he hacked at clumsily with a nearby pen knife.

As the container was opened, the first thing that hit was the smell. Wafts of copper mingled with rot drifted into the smoke-laden air. It was overwhelming, forcing him to recoil instantly. He pinched his nostrils and tilted his head—a reflexive action to shield himself from the full hilt of the stench. 

"What the hell is that?"

Admittedly, he already had a pretty firm idea of what it was. Or, more precisely, who . What part of him he was looking at, however, remained a mystery. The putrid mass of flesh sat limp and bloodied in the centre of a pile of shredded paper, unidentifiable. 

After taking a moment to steel himself, he moved back towards the package; eyes narrowed as he peered curiously into the contents. Following a period of closer inspection, he mumbled out a tasteless remark. "...Kinda looks like the mouse I had to dissect in 8th Grade." 

Nines didn't laugh at the joke or attempt to feign any degree of interest. Opting to stare rigidly at the yellowed rolls of paper peeling from a nearby wall. Gavin's smile dropped at the snub, having officially exhausted his patience with the man's ongoing pity party. 

"I dunno. What do you think?" He then gestured his cigarette towards the box in line with a pointed glare. Ash scattered across his desk as it missed his often-neglected tray. 

The movements of Nines' head were jerky, robotic, as he dared a small glimpse into the bed of crinkled packaging. The regret in his eyes was instantaneous, his sallow complexion growing even more sickly as a sharp hitch escaped his throat. 

"I think it's—" 

The sentence was aborted as his throat tightened, larynx clenching. The contractions became increasingly pronounced as though he were repressing the urge to vomit. 

"...I think it's part of his ear." 

Gavin whistled at the revelation, his lips pursed in bemusement. He was almost impressed that such a delicate cross-section had been severed from the appendage, especially by a group of thugs who probably struggled to tie their shoes.  

"Well, shit. Good thing he's got two of 'em."

"We have one more day," came a sullen response. Nines anchored himself across the desk, subtly reducing the gap between them, "and we haven't done anything. Communicated with DeLuca at all, even to acknowledge that we've received the messages." 

"I know. We're not going to."

"Gavin…" Nines sounded winded, almost painfully so, as he attempted to support himself against the soiled wood. His palms were caked with powder, dirtied by a thick layer of grey. "He's my brother."

"He's a rat," the other man corrected. His fingers drummed idly against the table, flecks of ash falling in sync. "With any luck, pest control will do their job."

"He'd never do anything to betray you. Betray us—" 

"Oh, what, did he tell you that?"  The question was simpered mockingly, concluded with a barked laugh. "Come on, think about it. Why would DeLuca take him when he had literally any other option?" 

Despite all the enduring desperation he'd shown in pleading his case, Nines had no response to this. His lips gaped open and closed before pulling into a tight frown. 

"Guess whatever deal they had finally went south…" Gavin tutted in false sympathy as he flicked his now extinguished cigarette across the room. "That's a real shame." 

"I understand you've never warmed to him…but I implore you not to make decisions based on that alone." In an act of desperation—and presumably madness—he reached forward, attempting to place a hand on his calf. "Just try to be reasonable for a moment."  

Gavin bristled at the insolence. 

Oh no you don't.

He shot his legs back, preventing contact from being made, as he planted the ridged soles of his boots firmly onto the ground. He then hauled himself up from his chair, grabbing Nines by the collar and yanking him further across the desk.

"Don't fucking tell me what to do." The words were seethed through clenched teeth as his jaw locked tight in warning. They were close enough that speckles of spit propelled onto the other man's face, glossing his cheeks.

They stayed this way for quite some time as Nines stared back at him fixedly. Waiting in hushed anticipation as he deliberated on his next move. 

The longer spent in this proximity, the more Gavin could feel his convictions wane. All it had really taken was a whiff of the woody cologne clinging to the other man's neck for anger to slip into hesitancy.

There was musk as well. Clearly, he hadn't showered in a couple of days, but even that proved inexplicably tempting in his current repressed state. Enough to send a shiver up his spine and the blood in his brain rushing south.

God-fucking-dammit. 

Even when he looked like an extra out of  The Walking Dead,  Nines still possessed his unique ability to drive him completely insane. It didn't matter how many nights of sleep he missed; there was no getting past the marble-like chest and the jawline that could cut through glass…

Reaching for his face, his subordinate tensed as though preparing for a strike. Gavin then ran a hand up his neck, kneading the flesh beneath his fingertips. In a show of possessiveness, he flicked up his thumb, pulling it across his jaw as he firmly traced the bone.

"Come on, baby," he crooned, craning across the barricade that dared to separate them. He tickled the shell of the other man's ear in long puffs, shamelessly goading a response. "Connor isn't worth us fighting over. You're smart enough to know that, right?"

Nines' eyes pinched closed as his expression grew increasingly strained. Clearly, he was a man at war with himself, torn between duty and desire. Then, he slowly began to give in, relaxing under the touch, leaning towards it reflexively. 

"Gavin, please. Just this once, give DeLuca what he wants." Slowly, his eyes opened, icy grey darkened by lust. He grabbed his lover's hand, cradling it firmer against his face and ran his cheek against it. Then he brought his fingers to his mouth, peppering them with gentle kisses. "Do it for us. For me." 

And just like that, the moment was ruined. His dick stopped thinking for him as the blood surged back to his brain, firing off a series of blaring warnings. 

No. 

This isn't right .

Nines knew the rules, he understood damn well this wasn't how they did things. They did grabbing hands, tongue, and teeth, not soft touches and whispered promises. It was too intimate—throwing into ruin years of carefully crafted understanding. 

The kisses burned hotter than any lighter, and Gavin snatched his hand back, stomach churning. 

"What the fuck are you doing?" 

Nines recoiled, the underlying vacancy of his gaze giving way to focus for the first time in days. His eyes sprung wide, staunchly alert, and after a period of tense shock came confusion, nestling in the cracks of his stricken features. "...I… don't understand what you mean."

The sickening churn grew more pronounced as something rose in the back of his throat. Initially, it could have been mistaken for bile—until low chuckles began to echo against the muscled walls. They ramped quickly until they had built into large, bitter cackles. 

Gavin sat back in his chair, trembling, as he punctuated his disbelief with a harsh slam against the table. An empty coffee cup rattled on the trembling foundation before slipping from the desk and shattering on the ground. 

Maybe you aren't as smart as I thought. 

While he was willing to chalk at least  some  of the misunderstanding down to Nines' current exhaustion, the lapse in judgment still demanded a correction. He held himself upright, chin jutted high, as he cracked the bones of his now pulsing knuckles. 

"Let's make something clear—because it looks like you might have forgotten. I might let you fuck me, but you're still my bitch. You do what I want when I want it. I'm the one calling the shots." 

The more he spoke, the more Nines seemed lost to despair. Watching as the line he'd cast, Gavin vanished into the ocean, pulled by an intense force. "I have never once questioned you, and I don't intend to do so again. This is not something I ever predicted I'd have to ask for. I just…" 

The words trailed off, adopting a distant quality, as his brow pinched in concentration. 

“...thought…after all this time…"

"You thought wrong." Gavin interrupted, refusing to let him continue. "I keep you around for two reasons: You can shoot a bullet through a man's eyes from across a football pitch, and you screw better than some coked-up hooker."

His gaze was spearing, carving into him in line with the daggers spewed from his lips. Every aspect of Nines' response was monitored closely—with cold, unfeeling scrutiny. As he watched the man fall apart, he saw something more than the stony-faced machine his Dad had always praised. 

Nines looked hurt . All wide eyes and trembling lips, the picture of vulnerability.

In his current crestfallen state, he was a spitting image of Connor. The realisation worked another knot into the mangled mess of his gut as Gavin realised the bounds of his trust had extended too far, allowing for too much leniency. It was a wrong he sought to correct. Swiftly and definitively. 

"You mean nothing to me, and neither does your shithead brother. Do you understand that?" 

Nines' face pulled and contorted as though struggling to contain a deluge of sentiment. Waves built, cresting rampantly as they prepared to crash down—but the flood never came, trickling away without event. 

Sharp features settled back into their usual stoic rigidity as he coolly returned to form, nodding in acknowledgement. 

"Understood."

Gavin could feel the tension that had amassed slowly begin to wane. He slunk down into his seat with a satisfied grunt. "Good. So quit bitching and do something useful. Either handling the situation down at the docks. Or…well…” He made a gesture towards the fly of his jeans, smirking as he did so. "You know the drill."

There was little consideration made for the crude proposition. Nines spun on his heel, refusing to dignify it, as he briskly strode from the office without saying another word. 

[louisupdates]

FITFWT23: RALEIGH RECAP

Concert number: 33

Date: 21 Jul 2023

Place: Red Hat Amphitheater

Capacity: 6,000

Venue: [oli crump] [jdelf] [jdelf] [barrie pitt]

Livestream [kumaontour] [kumanontour 2] [part 1, part 2]

LTHQ Twitter and Instagram, Joshua

Concert Group Picture

Fashion: Paul Smith t-shirt, Stone Island shorts, 28 OP pants

Openers: Andrew Cushin, Giant Rooks

Lithograph

Setlist

Photos: [lounging at the venue in 28 OP] [HQ] [HQ] [HQ] [HQ] [The Photo] [x] [x] [x] [x] [x] [x] [😲] [x] [x] [golden] [checks hair] [the leg and the ball] [delicate] [with fans][with fans] [with fans] [with fans] [back of the head] [x] [with fans] [barricade] [HQ] [HQ] [HQ] [HQ] [HQ] [barricade] [barricade] [smiling gifs] [HQ mosquito battle] [listening gifs] [mosquito saga in gifs] [water fight gifs] [side eye gifs] [reaction to Barbie] [HQ] [HQ] [HQ] [HQ] [HQ] [HQ]

Videos: [x]

Speeches: My album Faith In The Future means the world to me [x], It’s tough shit, ‘cause I fucking love you all. [x]

Outro: Moondance, by Van Morrison

Press: WRAL, RedHatAmp

Trends: [x] [x]

Misc: afhf2023 fan pack, Helen Seamons follows the 28clothing IG, which is registered under 78 Limited; Kit Connor is featured in an interview with The Guardian wearing 28 OP, and his photoshoot while wearing the 28OP mauve hoodie

[cheemscakecat]

Detroit become Rebooted: PL600

The PL600 line was one of the earliest android models sold to regular civilians. Cyberlife was looking to expand its market past medical assisting androids due to insurance red tape and the higher cost of androids with those care features.

In order save on production, the male and female androids were built with 80s and 90s style matte plastic and minimal internal mechanisms. The androids were ball jointed like art dolls, with tubes of blue blood stringing them together.

They were designed with removable hair cosmetics like Polly pockets or Mr potato head dolls, and themed around retro nostalgia. Inevitably, a rich couple purchased a male PL600 with the designation Daniel to babysit their young daughter.

The couple were casual about replacing older electronics in their home with no regard to repairability, deep cleaning or conservation. It was no surprise that they raised their daughter to have a similar disposable consumption mindset.

She liked Daniel, but other kids had newer models with cooler clothing accessories. And her parents never bothered to deep clean its removable exoskeleton over the years they owned the android. That nostalgic plastic did what it does best; discolor and gather grit and dust. Eventually, they decided to just dump Daniel at a Cyberlife store and pick up a new, fresh model for Emma.

She was in middle school, and had gotten a little tired of the male PL600’s 90s, 4-pack of crayon inspired colors. She had so many more android models and accessories to choose from to match her favorite color; pink. Unbeknownst to the family, the worn and outdated android found the Cyberlife online order they had placed.

TW: Fictional child hostage situation. Android death.

The RK800 police prototype was brought in to assist with a hostage situation in a high class apartment. It was the first time it had ever dealt with a defective android. And the first time a glitch had led to a civilian android killing a human. The father was dead, the mother was hysterical and outraged at the sight of another “metal monster”, and the little girl was precariously balanced on the ledge of the roof at gunpoint.

RK800 had dealt with human hostage situations, but not as the negotiator. Sometimes it was appropriate to shout instructions to criminals, but the prototype did not have experience with pacifying someone like this. The human Swat team was on edge and snapping at this Connor model to hurry up.

It gathered all the evidence it could, and used it to try to calm the android.

————————

Daniel didn’t really want to shoot Emma, or throw her off a building. But he was trapped, and these humans thought so little of androids that he knew he needed her as insurance. Another android came out of the ruined home. It had one strange black eye and was less geometric than him. And the fancy replacement, too. It was customized with something like the police uniforms he saw when he shot the first few.

He hoped this was their last idea before they’d give up and let him leave. He might run out of battery at this rate.

This Conner guy started talking to him with information he shouldn’t have. He didn’t like how much this fancy stranger knew about him. There was something wrong with his voice. It sounded too much like the angry human police that tried to yell instructions at him. Did all new androids sound like this? Did the humans get tired of soft voices and obedience, too? They were sure shallow enough.

But then again, this stranger was another android. Maybe he could help. Daniel was pretty light, and the longer he stood on the ledge, the worse the chances of him falling off. And/or taking Emma with him. He didn’t want to stay there if he could get help. If he could just get this Connor to direct the humans away…

He let go of Emma, who ran a foot or two away and fell on the deck in relief. He looked at Connor and waited for his end of the deal. Funny, the police android didn’t have eyebrows.

And then the humans shot him in the torso, taking off a fat chunk and cracking his brittle shell. Then they shot him in the arm joint, which snapped the blue-blood tether in his arm. It detached with no tether, but he didn’t get the time to watch the gush of blue liquid or his hand falling to the street below. They shot him in the cheek, and the left side of his mouth mechanism broke. His jaw was left hanging on for dear life on his rubber lip.

Even with his outdated sensors, Daniel knew he was dying. He lost too much blue-blood. With the last of his energy, he called to the police’s little toy. Another stupid new plaything to be used and used until his fancy white skin and blue paint job got stained with blood and scratches. Until they found something shiny and new to replace him, until he knew what it felt like.

“You lied to me Connor. You lied to me-“

——————

Alternate ending

Connor’s best effort wasn’t helping. Daniel was highly unstable, and got agitated enough to shoot at it. The bullet hit Connor in the middle of its forehead and the force popped the faceplates off. Guns were the reason why it had a divided upper faceplate, though this was a design flaw that needed to be remedied. A bullet from so far away should dent the faceplate and fall to the ground without hurting police, not send the outer shell flying off.

RK800 paused for a moment due to the unexpected design flaw, took note of it, then looked at PL600 again. The deviant blinked at him in simulated surprise and started rambling about fancy new toys. “How did that not work? They really want a toy that outlives them?” The girl squirmed uncomfortably, which had the unwanted effect of reminding it that it had a hostage.

Daniel laughed, it’s faulty code causing it to simulate human hysteria as Connor was alerted to what was about to happen. It bolted for the ledge as the deviant leaned back. Connor was just in time to grab the human girl, turn mid-fall, and throw her into the swimming pool for minimal injury.

The Swat captain paused after the poor little kid was pulled from the water and getting treated. He looked over the edge of the Skyscraper, thinking about what that police android just did. As much as that creepy thing put him on edge, he had to admit that its reaction time was just enough to save the day. Oh well, it wasn’t human. He had someone more important to focus on.

Cyberlife added a note to the list of goals for the RK900; fix upper faceplate design, pressure point flaw.

[umichenginabroad]

Week 6: The Setting Sun

Howdy y'all, it me Connor back after the final week of navigating around Nagoya!

This is going to be a mostly writing focused blog as I do not have a ton of photos as this week was cut short as I had a flight to catch back to the good ole US of A.

First up, I passed all my finals, I think.

I got a perfect score on my speaking section on the speaking section of my Japanese final and I passed the written portion. So yeah I'm basically fluent. Learning the language was definitely way tougher than I thought it would be, but it gave me confidence to at least try and continue learning it in the future.

In addition my engineering final presentation went so well that my group won overall best presentation. We won a set of diecast Honda NSXs which is a car I have fawned over in previous blogs. I was super happy with my research surrounding modern plastic alternatives used in dashboards and the real cost of fabric vs. leather car seats. This program has given me a refreshed sense of enthusiasm in regards to the automotive industry. I have experienced the industry in a way completely unique to Japan and have now seen aspects of automotive culture inaccessible anywhere else.

Sadly though the time has come for me to leave the country. I still have quite a sizable lab report I have yet to really dive into so my studies have yet to stop but I no longer will be able to experience the wonders of Japan. But here are the last couple photos of my shortened week.

This is me standing in front of the Nagoya University sign (Holding up the classic UMich M, GO BLUE!). It is in front of the main yard where we often saw students throwing balls, sunbathing, and just generally having a good time.

This selfie was taken on the way to the farewell party hosted by the NUSIP program. You can see most of my roommates pictured. These guys really made my time in Japan special and I cannot thank them enough. The farewell party was super sweet and everyone was super sad to leave.

A photo of my room taken on the day of my departure. You all would not believe how long it took me to clean it up. It felt just like yesterday that I walked into this room exactly how I saw it leaving. I almost cried as I had my bags packed and was walking out the door.

After a couple hours of traveling, and one too many trains, I took this photo at the airport right before going through security. Although I was smiling that was only because I took the wrong train and still made it to the airport on time. But oh boy did I have a massive journey ahead of me. My parents were worried sick because of the windows outage causing may flights to be cancelled. Luckily all of my planes arrived and I only suffered an hour delay.

I landed at Boston Logan Airport quite late Friday night after almost 30 hours of traveling. The one thing I was looking forwards to coming back for was that my family was about to take a nice long beach vacation in Cape Cod. I was so happy to see them, and even better I got possibly the greatest welcome back breakfast in the world. Nothing could stop me from demolishing these biscuits and home fries topped with sausage gravy, because you could never find something that good in Japan.

Until next time, さようなら, また 来週

Connor Gilfillan

Mechanical Engineering

NUSIP Automotive Engineering in Nagoya, Japan

[doctorqueensanatomy]

If Kendall is a pocket watch, so is Connor, which makes the story even happier. Then again, if Kendall and Connor are pocketwatches, so is Roman, which makes the story even sadder. Lucky for everyone, Roman isn't a real person; that much is sure. In fact, Roman isn't anything, or anyone, at all.

Kind of character analysis, a kind of introspection of Roman's childhood, under the pocket watch analogy of deism, also found on ao3 here or under the cut

Romulus Roy was four years old when he was first told this fairytale. Or, so it was postured to him. He couldn't conceive it to be anything else at that age; something grandiose, mythical, and that Roman could dwell upon when his mind would run free.

He doubted he was supposed to remember it. More than anything, it was conditioning, teachings on faith. A theory on the absoluteness of a God meant to give him a backbone people were beginning to question he lacked.

Suppose you walked across a health, stumbling across a rock. It wouldn't cross your mind as to how it got there, for it must've always been there. But consider, instead, you spot a pocket watch lying on the grass. To wonder how it got there wouldn't be as easy as the rock, as a pocket watch does not occur naturally. An artificer or artificers had to have carefully designed and constructed its complex mechanisms, taken great care of it, and misplaced it upon the heath.

For some, it isn't a far reach at all to say that our world, and our universe, in its contrivances and complexities, is much more akin to the pocket watch than it is the humble rock. Therefore, everything we know had to have come from a similar artificer or artificers who took the same care when designing and forming our universe.

Of course, Roman couldn't help but mock this exact phrasing. He kicked rocks to his own will, rounding them into rough balls with the sheer might of the souls of his feet. Sure, it was limited to beaches and gardens privately owned on his family estates, but he caused that change. He shaped them.

And as for pocket watches, let this be known: There is nowhere on this earth where he walks that hasn't been tread on by his father before, in the shade of his shadow, pale and hard. And as for his father, let it be this: His pockets are useless; a facade of the common man. He needs not a pocket watch when his wrist fits fine. He needs no pens when they are always waiting for him on arrival. Spare change is a thing of the past. It exists as all money does; an idea - created - immaterial 'till it buys us material. And not, notably, in a pocket.

The only mechanical thing that could fall from his dad to be dwelled upon would be Kendall. A device that could provide some use, for sure, but who could only function under the specific rules its creator built into its system. Mostly left on its own to tick tick by with few occasional tinkers in its mechanisms to ensure good working order. A watch assembled and wound up by a great watchmaker.

Criticisms of the watchmaker analogy say that comparing two things - the universe and a pocket watch - because they share one quality doesn't mean they'll share all qualities. A wolf and a dog may share some similarities, but just because a wolf can largely fend for itself doesn't mean you should leave a small puppy unattended in the deepest dark of night. And where a wolf will return to the pack, a dog will eventually only ever return to its owner's feet.

Fortunately for Roman, Kendall is not his universe. There's a debate to be had as to if he's anyone's universe. Although, Kendall actually does share qualities with a pocketwatch like you wouldn't believe. Humanity never saw our foundations being laid down, but everyone witnessed Kendall's creation. Like the birth of a royal. Every promise made to him, every bad word ever said, every drug ever taken and beating ever taken can be read in the wrinkles on his face and hairs on his skin. He is a labour of pain and love, meticulously crafted and disregarded. He can be, and is, compared to others of a similar nature. Victims of Logan Roy's trial and error campaign for the perfect time-teller.

It's easier to think of Kendall as a pocket watch. It makes his story less sad; that all the inhumane suffering at least won't affect a human being. Then again, if Kendall is a pocket watch, so is Connor, which makes the story even happier. Then again, if Kendall and Connor are pocketwatches, so is Roman, which makes the story even sadder. Lucky for everyone, Roman isn't a real person, that much is sure. In fact, Roman isn't anything much, or anyone important, at all.

See, Connor didn't even get to kick rocks. He got something worse; holding his mommy's hand. He was guided gently, never led, and so when the time came for the hand to be ripped from his, well, he never recovered. He simply couldn't do without it, aimlessly wandering around until he spotted his new baby brother following their dad, kicking rocks as he went along.

All the rocks that Kendall kicked, each and every one, that's what Roman is. Displaced in the home at best, and an ornament or toy at worst.

Inside, however, he could always tell that if someone only checked, they'd find something important. He hasn't near enough the introspection in his youth and adolescence to figure out what exactly. Especially when it seemed that everyone around him could tell, in every look and interaction, that he couldn't measure up in the same respect as his brothers.

Even the importance of his core could be debated, the significance. Importance is, in this world at least, respective to the person who wields it, regardless of what is contained.

Perhaps whatever precious metal his father found embroidered in Kendall to make the watch that he is can also be found in him. If everyone stopped assuming and ascribing an idea to him, that he's rotten inside, still idly rotting, they'd see that he can actually be quite lovely. All they had to do was lightly chip at him, and he let himself be broken open, and they'd all see just how valuable Roman can be.

But then they started to do that, exactly that, and Roman found that it wasn't actually that nice to be torn apart. The lightness he had wished for, was promised, turned out to be anything but.

To be constantly cracked, torn, sent away and reeled back, shaped into something he couldn't quite recognise in the mirror. Roman found, from the first instance, that it hurt quite a lot. His father told him in his searching that The Greater Cause would, and he supposed it did. Why wouldn't it?

There was one particular instance, when Kendall was being dusted off lightly after Roman had been shaken up. Their father was occupied in managing Kendall - not that he'd be caught near Roman either way - leaving Roman an unmoving force against Connor's chest. He couldn't cry yet, only breathe deep to the time of Connor's tik-toking heart.

Connor wasn't old, not like their dad, obviously. But he was older, and the tik-toking was turning faint. Roman would be jealous if he had a tik-toking himself, but unfortunately his mind and soul found comfort in the weathered down sign of life, rocked slowly by the only man who'd really ever shown any adoration to him, be him watch or rock or nothing at all.

Pity that he could understand. Pity that Connor knew what to do. A pity indeed, and one no one could stop. That's what Roman felt, when he walked away that night; pity, turning to shame. When he laid in bed the shame washed over him, a faux blanket to replace the ones he lacked in a punishment by his father. He curled up, closed his eyes and thought about his heartbeat, trying to hear a tick instead of blood.

In that moment, he realised what his father had most likely come to term with a while ago; the only thing inside of him was a shell. A fossil. He's skin enough to pass for bones.

And, well, finally he thinks. To be the fuel that can keep the family afloat after years of self-service. To be harvested for good, reeped of all his father sowed. Sure he may not tell time or function in the usual way, but you'd be able to carbon date the ills of everyone with a mere glance at Roman. He could give more with less than Kendall, Connor, or even Siobhan could combined.

Equally, no. He gets poked, and prodded, and gawked at. A gross mystery that had been cracked, but not solved. Nobody could. And, truthfully, he feared the day someone did pay too much attention to the dried bones that make him up. If they did, it's a very likely chance they'd tell him that there's nothing that can be done to change it. There's no pocketwatches made of stone. That is something entirely different.

Something only Roman could be.

In a garden at one of their newly bought houses, his mother long gone away, Roman stood posed on a column like the youthful boys in the age of antiquity.

From his vantage point, he gazed as his father walked with his little sister in tow.

Connor was in Europe. Kendall was at school. And Shiv, with only Roman’s eyes on her, paused her skipping to lean down and pick up what appeared to be a pocketwatch. She brought it to her father, who smiled and lifted her up right in front of the sundial that shadowed Roman, sun soaking her freckled skin and hair.

good omens 2 ended and made me sad so I smited an analogy of deism with the roys. would be interested to think what others take from this :-) all errors are my own

[fizzigigsimmer]

Hannibal Harringrove Au Part 2

The night they met. The Halloween Party but make it murder boyfriendy.

The house is on the lake, Michigan side, owned by a colleague who lived for the kind of parties that ended with doing lines of coke off of a rent girl’s ass. As an associate at one of the nation's top law firms Billy was surrounded by such men and he was no stranger to such parties. The statistics don’t lie about his profession. How it attracts a certain type of personality. Psychopaths, according to Billy’s boyfriend. 

Which would count for a rarely astute observation, if Conner weren’t just saying it to poke a reaction out of Billy. He had no doubt that if Conner had any inkling of what Billy has planned for their eventual breakup that Conner would have packed a bag and run for the hills. If he had any brain at all he wouldn’t wait to pack the bag.

But Billy didn’t actually go to the party that night dreaming of his partner’s demise. Conner was a well chosen article of cover and had years of usefulness in him yet. Billy did not kill because it was compulsory. After the first one he could have chosen never to kill again, but Billy had chosen to accept what at the time had seemed a simple truth – he enjoyed it too much not to do it again. He hasn’t found a reason in the world compelling enough to deny himself, and so long as he doesn’t get caught he won’t. He’s not compelled, or deluded, and he doesn’t think himself a god. On the contrary, he could make a compelling case for his firm belief that hell is empty and all the devils are here.

He just enjoys being the worst one. The feeling of overpowering someone and making them see things as they really are is an addictive sensation – no rush like it in the world – because yes, asshole, it is going to end like this, and no your prayers aren’t going to be answered.  

One minute they’re alive, and the next they’re dead because that’s what he decided. And what is anyone going to do about it? Not a god damned thing. That’s life. Those who get it learn how to shoot.

Billy didn’t always get it. Used to pray to the saints and turn his eyes towards heaven until his head got too heavy crawling out of the shit pit that was his childhood. Used to cry and beg and bleed until he became something untouchable. Elevated. He’s not the bogyman and he’s not God. He’s better because he’s real. Except he’s fucking bored. None of it means anything to him. Not the money, the sex, the fast cars. Even the thrill of the kill is only a momentary blip in a monotonous stream of living. He’s alive because his teeth are sharpest, and one day he won’t be. That’s life and it’s so. Fucking. Long.  

He’s not compelled to kill and doesn’t want to die himself, but he is starting to get twitchy. He can admit that. Which is how killers get caught (he knows that) but he can’t seem to help it. He wants more. A challenge. Someone to really talk to. Play with and not just toy. He’s never had a real companion. Can’t for the obvious reason. Some days he looks at Connor in his skinny jeans and trendy glasses rambling on about whatever and just thinks, ‘fuck someone should bite that tongue off and feed it to you’. But Billy hasn’t made it this far just to get caught snapping on a twink who can’t keep his mouth shut. Every couple has their rough patches. Maybe he should buy a yacht.  

The party is in full swing. Some rich asshole friend of Connors is trying to convince Billy to invest in crypto, when Billy sees the stranger across the room for the first time. The moment he sees him all thoughts of Connor go out the window. The man is standing in a corner talking to a short woman with bottle blond hair in one of those clingy body con dresses women love so much. She glitters like a disco ball and he’s put a lot of futile effort into looking like someone you’ll forget as soon as your eyes leave him.  

Dark pants, wrinkled shirt, a white jacket to complement his date, hair on the overgrown side of in-between haircuts, no tie and no socks. He looks like an academic, a sleepy-eyed professor crashing the party of some friend of a friend, but there’s an easy, breezy, beautiful, confidence to his slouch that you only get when you grow up pretty and privileged. If this were L.A. the paps would be all over him. He’d be a cover boy by morning, the mystery lover of every starlet and socialite in the room whether he talked to them or not.  

They’ll say Harrington was a handsome man and talk about how Billy likes pretty things in the books they write about him, but that isn’t what made Billy look and keep looking that night.  

Attraction is not the thing that ultimately convinces him Steve is the body he’d like to take apart (in every way) but it’s a start.  

That night the stranger is giving his date all of his attention, his body angled towards her and leaning in, giving all the right signals, but then Billy notices the pen in the man’s hand. How he’s twirling it around his fingers without so much as a glance. The man is bored, and while the spinning of that pen could just be a thoughtless action sure, something in Billy’s gut recognizes the way he holds himself even then. Nothing this man does is truly thoughtless. He’s sending a message however subliminal ‘I don’t give a fuck’ even as he showers blonde with the kind of smile sure to get her panties wet.  She’s eating it up, eating him up with her eyes, and the man leans even closer to whisper something unintelligible that makes her giggle.

Billy seizes his chance to approach when the stranger wanders away from the woman over to the table laid out with food and drinks.

“I’d stay away from the salmon if I were you.” He says as an opening and the fellow grunts in acknowledgment, bypassing the salmon to load his small plate with some kind of mini liver sandwich instead. “Why? You have a bad experience with the caterer or something?”

It intrigues Billy the way he doesn’t look at him, not even a glance up to confirm details about the man who has approached him in a crowded room. It’s unusual.

“I know the host and he’s a cheap asshole.” Billy replied, a small smile curling on his lips as the stranger paused, his head turning slightly and his eyes coming up to rest somewhere between Billy’s brows. “Never knew a corner he didn’t try and cut.”

“I see.” There might be a small twitch of his lips, a there and gone again glimpse of amusement, but it’s hard to say because the man is moving away from him. Dismissing the conversation as soundly as he dismisses Billy, his attention instead wandering over the dishes that fill the table like an idle shopper. No great hurry, and still no time for the man who attempts to make conversation.

His body language says ‘I’m not interested’ and Billy believes it. Instantly decides to change it. He’s not used to being ignored.

“You wanna see more?” Billy turns his voice to velvet, doesn’t have to do much other than let it get heavy with promise. It promises to show him things that would make him shiver, shake, and moan. In ways he won’t forget. It’s the sort of tone that settles on the back of the neck like a cold hand and runs a finger down your spine. Most people get nervous when they hear that tone - suddenly remember some errand, or spot someone they know across the room – but not this man. That’s when he half turns toward Billy and really looks at him for the first time.  

His eyes do not match the guarded set to his features, the carefully crafted veneer of disdain cracks around wide brown eyes that make Billy remember hunting – his old man dragging the bleeding buck out from the brush, its frantic bleating as its penetrating eyes bored into Billy.

The stranger’s eyes reflect him the exact same way. The blood Billy scents, the hidden wound behind those eyes, pulls on his hunter instinct.

“If that’s supposed to be a come on your lines need work. I’m not interested.” he says, and Billy swallows the saliva that pools in his mouth. Thinks ‘you will be’ but taunts instead, “What’s the matter Pretty Boy, afraid you’ll get swept off your feet if you look me in the eye?”

“People like eye contact because it helps them find the things other people try and hide. I’m not hiding anything from you.” the man says, beginning to turn again as he loses interest. He stops when Billy asks, “And you’re not afraid of what I might be hiding?”

And then the man cuts him, verbally slashes him with the knife Billy didn’t see him holding because he was taken in by all the rest.

“William Hargrove. You go by Billy. You’re thirty-eight, a lawyer, and your partner,” Billy notes the gesture of his head toward the area he last saw Conner in but doesn’t dare take his eyes off of the stranger, not for a second – doesn’t mind giving you a little slack on the leash. So long as you don’t bring home anything unpleasant. That must be nice for you. But I don’t share.”

“You’re a cop.” Billy guesses. It’s not a hard thing to do. There are only two ways for someone to know so much about him. “That or a party planner, but if Simon had hired you to put this together you wouldn’t have needed me to warn you about the salmon.”

Billy’s able to catch it this time, the moment when the side of the handsome stranger’s mouth twitches and real amusement flashes in his eyes before he decides to roll with it, lets it curl into something resembling a smirk.

"Maybe I just like to live dangerously.”

Billy thinks, ‘of course you do pretty thing’ because he is a cop after all. He’s not dumb or deluded enough to think himself a hero, so something else must draw him to that thankless job. For some it’s the adrenaline and others it’s the power of the uniform. But those soft brown eyes hide things, despite what was said earlier. They’ve seen things. They’re seeing Billy now, and Billy doesn’t think he even realizes it, but he’s not turning away. No longer twitching with boredom. The stranger is still and poised like a hound waiting for the whistle at the start of a hunt.

It does occur to Billy that the hunt has already begun. The man is some type of law enforcement, he has been briefed on all of the party guests which means he’s working, and the plain clothes mean he is undercover. So likely FBI. And what are the chances really that an FBI agent is here in Billy’s stomping grounds, and just happens to fall right into his lap?

“Dangerously enough to let me take you home?” Billy asks, stepping toward him, scrunching his nose a little at the waft of cheap cologne that fills it. The kind of Wal-Mart shelf shit he imagines a colleague bought him as a Christmas gift. Maybe it’s the way they guy holds himself, or the long lean lines of his body, but Billy gets the feeling he likes finer things. This may be all that he can afford on a government salary but it’s clear that (wrinkles aside) he knows what to do with the little he has. Maybe Billy will give him more. Buy him shirts in mulberry silk and leave them at his door. No note. See if he’ll flirt with danger and wear the gifts given by a stranger or if that’s just reserved for the job.

“Back up.” It’s not a suggestion. The hand that sets on Billy’s chest and pushes is firm and hot. Billy feels it burning against his skin, even through his clothes, and the way the man’s fingers curl just so, digging in before the pressure is gone. “I told you I don’t share well. Looks like you’ve got your hands full.”

He nods to something over Billy’s shoulder but Billy doesn’t need to look, recognizes he cologne Conner’s latest side piece bought for him, that he wears hoping it will rile Billy up and bring out his more possessive instincts. There was a time when it would have, but that time is gone. Shot dead by a pair of brown eyes that mock him as Conner plasters himself to Billy’s side, whiny and drunk, but not buried. Not yet.

“There you are baaaby,” Conner simpers, dragging out the sound until it grates across Billy’s nerves like a poorly played note.

“You kids have fun.” The man snickers, sliding a cracker topped with some sort of pate and green things into his mouth whole. Billy imagines sliding his fingers between those lips as the man turns to walk away. Billy ignores the startled sound that Conner makes as he shakes him loose, the way the slighter man stumbles and falls to the floor, and grabs the man’s shoulder. His grip isn’t tight enough to cause pain, but it’s not any of the things it should be either. There’s no apology in it, no please. He stops because Billy forces him to stop. Turns his head to look, but not his whole body. Billy can feel the tension in him anyway, the readiness for the fight.

“Tell me your name.” And then he softens the command, just a little. “It’s only fair since you know mine.”  

He watches the man’s face enraptured, clocks the irritation and the indecision as he mulls over how to respond. He’s fascinatingly easy to read, those eyes of his broadcasting his every feeling. Billy remembers what he said about eye contact and having nothing to hide, and yet he’s already pulled the rug out from under Billy once already. He can’t shake the feeling that he’s being played.

“Harrington,” the man finally says, reaching up to grip the hand Billy has on his shoulder and pry it loose. Billy lets him because once again, this man has taken him by surprise. He could ask, ‘Steve Harrington’ but that’s probably just what Jim Hopper is hoping he will do. It would prove at the very least that Billy has been keeping as close an eye on the head of the BAU as Hopper has been keeping on him. He’s been in Jim’s sights since his first kill. Popped his cherry with true passion when he was a teen. And like a horny kid with a prom date, he’d left evidence everywhere. Would have spent the rest of his life behind bars if his step sister hadn’t backed up his self-defense claim.  

Big Jim never did buy the sob story about how Billy’s father lost his mind. How he’d murdered his wife and planned to get Billy and Max too before he took himself out with a selfish suicide; but the jurors had loved Max in all her fragile white girlhood, and in the end, they’d rewarded the boy who had saved her. Even if he’d stabbed a man eleven times and tried to bury his pieces in the woods.

Sloppy. But nobody’s first time is perfect. 

**Now with Part 3**

[the-dragon-folk]

More Rat Pack party dialogue because it’s on the brain

———

Jacinth: Your mother was there when my father died.

Kieran: And?

Jacinth: And, what?

Kieran: Are you accusing her of something?

Jacinth: No? I was making an observation, Kieran.

Kieran: Really? Because—

Selsie: Sweet Maker! Just kiss already.

Keiran: Selsie!

———

Parsley: Connor? Connor!

Connor: I— Sorry. I was just… thinking.

Parsley: Of course, no worries. I am here if you ever want to talk.

Connor: I don’t— [sigh]. Thank you.

———

Kieran: What… was it like?

Connor: What?

Kieran: When you were… possessed—

Connor: No.

Kieran: No?

Connor. No.

———

Kieran: I understand the fear.

Connor: You understand nothing.

———

Kieran: Gah! Selsie!

Selsie: [giggles].

Connor: What is it this time?

Kieran: She threw a mud ball at me!

Selsie: I’ll do it again! Duck!

Connor: [sigh].

———

Kieran: Selsie! I said cut it out with the mud!

Selsie: That wasn’t me that time!

Parsley: [giggles].

———

Jacinth: [barks].

Oodles: [barks]!

Jacinth: [barks louder].

Oodles: [barks louder]!

Kieran: What the hell are you doing?

Jacinth: Winning.

———

Kieran: Connor, why did you ask earlier whose foot we stole? You know Judpha.

Connor: Frankly, you seem like the kind of person who would have cut off someone’s foot as a child.

Kieran: … What is that supposed to mean?

———

Selsie: You know, in another life, we could be calling you Lord Connor Guerrin by now.

Connor: Ah, no.

Selsie: Oh, Arl Connor! Arl Connor, my lord! Your expensive linens are here! Arl Connor, your fancy shirts!

Connor: Stop!

———

Connor: [softly] Arl Connor Guerrin. [chuckles.] Lord Connor Guerrin!

Parsley: [chuckles].

Connor: Oh! Tell me you didn’t hear that.

Parsley: Not a thing, m’lord!

———

Connor: Oh, we’re really it now, Oodles…

Oodles: [weary bark].

———

Jacinth: Does she know any tricks?

Parsley: Do you?

Jacinth: [sigh] No. I almost have “sit” down, though.

———

Kieran: [quietly] I don’t get it.

Oodles: [curious whine]?

Kieran: I don’t understand why he hates me. I didn’t do anything. Nothing I do helps. He just stares at me like I have a second head.

Oodles: [sympathetic whine]. [Barks]!

Kieran: Thanks, Oodles. You really know what to say.

———

Jacinth: I may be a fool.

Kieran: … but?

Jacinth: What about my butt?

Kieran: No— nevermind.

———

Selsie: You don’t give him enough credit.

Connor: [sigh]. Maybe not.

Selsie: You don’t know what he has been through. Hear him out one day.

[thegoofyfanaticus]

(( Art is commissioned from the incredibly talented ArtReplicant. Original story by me. )) As Connor started tapping, Marcus first released the legs and then let go of Connor's scrotum. Connor was writhing in pain cupping his balls with both hands. Marcus stood up and used his left foot to force Connor onto his back by placing his left foot on Connor's pecs and pressing down. Connor immediately tried to remove the foot from his chest but to no avail. "What the fuck, dude?!" Connor complained. "Listen, you little punk," Marcus replied as he leaned down to look at Connor which increased the pressure of Marcus's foot on Connor's chest. "You're going to stay under my foot to hear what I have to say whether you like it or not. Yeah, I know you submitted, but trust me when I say that this little inconvenience is for your own fucking good." Marcus snapped his fingers at Connor, "Punk, look at the dude who just dominated your ass or I can stand here all night." Connor finally looked at Marcus and Marcus made sure he locked eyes with Connor. "You're one hell of a street fighter, and your punches are brutal, but what you tried to do with Dustin was the act of a fucking coward who was scared and trying to fend for himself on the streets. You're off the streets, kid. I haven't been here that long, but I do know that not one single member in this pack would have respected you if you had gone through with your plan. Besides, you've seen Wyatt fight twice now. You know it wouldn't have worked which would have meant that Wyatt would have been the one to have kicked your ass tonight. I'm weak compared to him. Find an elite Sigma to help train you. Learn what you need to learn. Then, come back here and take down every member of the pack that you can as you climb your way to becoming The Alpha, including me if you can. But I promise you this. You better come at me better than you did tonight because I plan on making it to the top and no one, not you and not even Wyatt is going to get in my way." Connor listened and while he didn't show it, he had contemplated Marcus's words. Marcus was right, loathe Connor was to admit it to himself and he certainly wouldn't tell Marcus that. Wyatt would have sent him to the hospital back then and most likely again tonight had he followed through with his plan. Connor needed to find someone who could train him. Marcus was right about that too. Hell, if Marcus would ever know though. "You fucking finished with your sermon, old man?!" Connor tried to leg-sweep Marcus in order to get him off his chest. When that failed, he tried to kick up at Marcus's face. Marcus dodged, and with one swift kick downward, knocked Connor out. "You got balls, little man," Marcus said as he started to leave the mat smiling. "You've got some nice big balls. We'll get along just fine..."

[harrison-abbott]

I used to play soccer when I was a kid. One of my teammates was called Connor, and I would often get a lift back home with his parents (after our team had most likely been beat in the game). And one time it so happened that Connor’s uncle came along to one of the matches. And he was in the car when we were driving home.

There was some confusion about the traffic. I think one of the other cars didn’t indicate before making a turn. Or something like that. Some traffic incident that irritated Connor’s uncle. And he said, “Oh, that’s dangerous. He could have crashed in to somebody. That’s a basic principle. The Chinese are good at doing that.” He just said this random thing about ‘the Chinese’ … and everybody else in the car all went silent.

In a similar incident, I was at a Hibernian game once, a football match. And the team were playing the arch rivals Hearts. So it was a rough atmosphere in a packed stadium. And one of the Hearts players got the ball. He happened to be black. The guy. And this man from behind me yelled, “Black bastard!”

Again, nobody in the vicinity of the stand reacted to his comment – just stayed mute. What made it the more bizarre was that half of the Hibernian players were black. So it was an insult to them as well.

I’ve never really understood racist behaviour. Don’t get it.

[trinity-mia]

a story as endless as the ocean

the titan's curse

0.5 the weight of the world

warnings : allie argues with a god (what's new?), descriptions of blood and the teensy-est amount of gore, pretty tame chapter ngl

word count : 5.1k

0.5 I Feel a Non-Metaphorical Weight on My Shoulders

During the winter, Camp Half-Blood always looked magical. It's protected by 'weather wards' so it never rained or snowed inside the borders unless Mr. D allowed it. Thankfully, he'd get tired of listening to us wanting snow, so he normally allowed it. 

Frost covered the chariot track and the strawberry fields. The cabins were decorated with tiny flickering lights, like Christmas lights, except they seemed to be balls of real fire. More lights glowed in the woods, and weirdest of all, a fire flickered in the attic window of the Big House, where the Oracle dwelt, imprisoned in an old mummified body. I once wondered if the spirit of Delphi was roasting marshmallows up there or something and I told Luke that thought, but then the mental image weirded us out, so we mutually decided never to think of it again.

"Whoa," Nico said as he climbed off the bus. "Is that a climbing wall?" 

"Yeah," I said. 

"Why is there lava pouring down it?" 

"Little extra challenge. Come on. I'll introduce you to Chiron. Zoe, have you met—" 

"I know Chiron," Zoe said stiffly. "Tell him we will be in Cabin Eight. Hunters, follow me." 

Okay, irritable, I thought. 

"I'll show you the way," Grover offered. 

"We know the way." 

"Oh, really, it's no trouble. It's easy to get lost here, if you don't"— he tripped over a canoe and came up still talking— "like my old daddy goat used to say! Come on!" 

Zoe rolled her eyes, but I guess she figured there was no getting rid of Grover. The Hunters shouldered their packs and their bows and headed off toward the cabins. 

As Bianca di Angelo was leaving, she leaned over and whispered something in her brother's ear. She looked at him for an answer, but Nico just scowled and turned away. 

"Take care, sweethearts!" Apollo called after the Hunters. He winked at me. "Watch out for those prophecies, Allie. I'll see you soon." 

"What do you mean?" Instead of answering, he hopped back on the bus. 

"Later, Allie, Thalia," he called. "And, uh, be good!" 

He gave us a wicked smile, as if he knew something we didn't (which he did, but that's definitely beside the point). Then he closed the doors and revved the engine. I turned aside as the sun chariot took off in a blast of heat. When I looked back, the lake was steaming. A red Maserati soared over the woods, glowing brighter and climbing higher until it disappeared in a ray of sunlight. Nico was still looking grumpy. I wondered what his sister had told him.

"Who's Chiron?" he asked. "I don't have his figurine." 

"Our activities director," I answered. "He's... well, you'll see."

"If those Hunter girls don't like him," Nico grumbled, "that's good enough for me. Let's go." 

The thing I always found strangest about camp in the winter was how empty it was. I mean, most half-bloods only trained during the summer. Just the year-rounders would be there— the ones who didn't have homes to go to, or would get attacked by monsters too much if they left. But there didn't even seem to be many of them, either.

I was technically a year rounder, but I left a few days a week so I could go to college at Columbia and if I was feeling super suffocated, I'd go to my beach house in East Hampton, but otherwise, I got attacked a lot, so I stayed at Camp Half-Blood. I didn't have to ask Chiron, I'd just leave. I was actually the only one allowed to do that, and if I wasn't the Daughter of Poseidon, I wouldn't be able to. Poseidon's children are very restless, like the sea, so when we are cooped up in a space for too long we get… antsy. 

I spotted Beckendorf stoking the forge outside the camp armory. The only full siblings in camp, Luke and Brylie's brothers, Travis and Connor Stoll (and yes, everyone makes the Stoll/stole joke), were picking the lock on the camp store. A few kids from the Ares cabin were having a snowball fight with the wood nymphs at the edge of the forest. That was about it. Truthfully, it was a relief. The fewer people around, the fewer hearts I had to break when I revealed Luke's fate. He'd been here longer than most and had housed them under his wing before they'd get claimed (if they did). He was pretty much a big brother to everyone. 

And Brylie... it was way too hard for anyone to hate her. She was hardly a fighter and got along with everyone. Everyone loved her. It felt like a sword had just been stabbed in my heart, and I forced down the tears that threatened to spill over. 

The Big House was decorated with strings of red and yellow fireballs that warmed the porch but nothing caught on fire. Inside, flames crackled in the hearth. The air smelled like hot chocolate. Mr. D and Chiron were playing a quiet game of cards in the parlor.

Chiron's brown beard was shaggier for the winter. His curly hair had grown a little longer. He wore a fuzzy sweater with a hoof print design on it, and he had a blanket on his lap that almost hid his wheelchair completely.

He smiled when he saw us. "Allie! Thalia! Ah, and this must be—"

"Nico di Angelo," I introduced, waving at the small boy, who was getting excited all over again. "He and his sister are half-bloods."

Chiron breathed a sigh of relief. "You succeeded, then."

My expression hardened. "Well..."

His smile melted. "What's wrong? And where are Luke and Brylie?"

"Oh, dear," Mr. D said in a bored voice, "Not more lost."

I clenched my fist in reflexive anger at his callous words. I'd been trying not to pay attention to Mr. D, but he was kind of hard to ignore in his neon orange leopard-skin warm-up suit and his purple running shoes (Like Mr. D had ever run a day in his immortal life. I sometimes seriously doubted whether or not he had ever actually been a demigod. He certainly didn't care about us, anyway. In fact, I think he cares even less about half-bloods than the gods who were born immortal do). A golden laurel wreath was tilted sideways on his curly black hair, which must've meant he'd won the last hand of cards.

I frowned, wondering if someone else had gone off to join the Titans. Only a few had, mainly due to me and Luke regularly reminding everyone that there would be no demigods without gods, but some still hated our godly parents enough to choose half-blood extinction in exchange for revenge. Truthfully, I didn't really blame them. I'm honest enough to admit that it's my fatal flaw that keeps me at Camp Half-Blood. I'd grown close to everyone there and even my father, who still didn't fully have my respect, had gained my loyalty. He did save me and Luke quite a few times last summer, I'd give him that. 

Just then, Grover trotted into the room, grinning like crazy. He had a black eye and red lines on his face that looked like a slap mark. "The Hunters are all moved in!" I shoved down a flare of fury that he was so cheerful when Luke and Brylie were missing. 

Chiron frowned. "The Hunters, eh? I see we have much to talk about." He glanced at Nico. "Grover, perhaps you should take our young friend to the den and show him our orientation film."

"But... Oh, right. Yes, sir."

"Orientation film?" Nico repeated, then he frowned. "Is it G or PG? 'Cause Bianca is kinda strict—"

"It's PG-13," Grover told him.

"Cool!" Nico happily followed him out of the room.

"Now," Chiron said to Thalia and me, "perhaps you two should sit down and tell us the whole story."

When we were done, Chiron turned to Mr. D. "We should launch a search for Luke and Brylie right away."

"I'll go," Thalia and I declared at the same time.

Mr. D sniffed. "Certainly not!"

Thalia and I both started protesting, but Mr. D held up his hand. He had that purplish angry fire in his eyes that usually meant something bad and godly was going to happen if we didn't shut up.

"From what you have told me," Mr. D said, "we have broken even on this escapade. We have, ah, regrettably lost Bailey and Liam—"

"Brylie and Luke," I snapped. Brylie had gone to camp for over five years now and Luke had been going for almost seven years, helped me save the world and camp itself, and still, Mr. D pretended not to know their names.

"Yes, yes," he said. "And you procured a small annoying boy to replace them. So I see no point risking further half-bloods on a ridiculous rescue. The possibility is very great that this Bailey girl and Liam boy are dead."

I wanted to strangle Mr. D. It wasn't fair Zeus had sent him here to dry out as camp director for a hundred years. It was meant to be a punishment for Mr. D's bad behavior on Olympus, but it ended up being a punishment for all of us. And how dare he claim that Nico could replace Luke and Brylie? 

"Luke and Brylie might be alive," Chiron said, but I could tell he was having trouble sounding upbeat. He'd raised Luke since he was twelve and Brylie since she was eight. Luke himself considered him the closest thing he'd had to a parent and I wouldn't be surprised if Brylie felt the same way. This had to be difficult for him. "Luke's very bright. If... if our enemies have him, he will do his best to stay alive and keep Brylie alive until they can escape. And they won't be quick to kill them."

"That's right," Thalia agreed. "Annabeth probably still has a soft spot for him. And she'll know if she kills Brylie he'll never side with her."

"In which case," said Mr. D, "I'm afraid they will have to be smart enough to escape on their own."

I got up from the table. "You know—"

"Allie." Chiron's tone was full of warning. 

"— You could at least try to act like you care about us—"

"Allie."

"— Even in the slightest. Do you even—"

"Astraea." 

I froze, my mouth slightly open. Chiron's tone had so much authority in it, I almost didn't want to continue. He never used my real name. It was enough to make me pause, but not enough to make me see clearly. I was about to ignore him further and tell Dionysus just what I thought of him, but I was interrupted when Nico burst into the room, followed by Grover.

"SO COOL!" Nico yelled, holding his hands out to Chiron. "You're... you're a centaur!" 

Chiron managed a nervous smile. "Yes, Mr. di Angelo, if you please. Though, I prefer to stay in human form in this wheelchair for, ah, first encounters." 

"And, whoa!" He looked at Mr. D. "You're the wine dude? No way!" 

Mr. D turned his eyes away from me and gave Nico a look of absolute loathing. "The wine dude?" 

"Dionysus, right? Oh, wow! I've got your figurine." 

"My figurine." 

"In my game, Mythomagic. And a holofoil card, too! And even though you've only got like five hundred attack points and everybody thinks you're the lamest god card, I totally think your powers are sweet!"

"Ah." Mr. D seemed truly perplexed, which probably saved my life. "Well, that's... gratifying." 

"Allie," Chiron said quickly, "you and Thalia go down to the cabins. Inform the campers we'll be playing capture the flag tomorrow evening." 

"Capture the flag?" I asked. "But we don't have enough—" 

"It is a tradition," Chiron said. "A friendly match, whenever the Hunters visit." 

"Yeah," Thalia muttered. "I bet it's real friendly." 

Chiron jerked his head toward Mr. D, who was still frowning as Nico talked about how many defense points all the gods had in his game. "Run along now," Chiron told us. 

"Oh, right," Thalia said. "Come on, Allie." She hauled me out of the Big House before Dionysus could remember that he wanted to kill me.

"Gods, Allie. It's like you want to be killed," Thalia said as soon as we were out of earshot. 

"I mean, it's going to happen at one point or another. At least let me make it fun," I joked back, saying a thought I'd had in my head for a while. I knew the gods were less likely to kill me, mostly because they didn't want to, in turn, be killed by Poseidon. That, however, didn't make me indestructible. Then again, I was first in line for the doomsday prophecy, so that made them more and simultaneously less likely to kill me. 

She gave me a look and I knew I should stop joking about my death, especially with Luke gone. 

"Sorry, sorry. It's just..." We both gazed down at the Hermes cabin where Brylie and Luke stayed (unless, of course, he snuck into my cabin when one of us had a nightmare, which happened quite a lot, actually).

"I know... let's just get this over with, yeah?"

She stopped by the armory and looked out across the valley, toward the top of Half-Blood Hill. Her pine tree was still there, the Golden Fleece glittering in its lowest branch. The tree's magic still protected the borders of camp, but it no longer used Thalia's spirit for power.

"Nothings fair, and I know that," she started. "Sometimes I just wish..."

She didn't finish and she didn't need to. Although she was born before I was, I was now technically older than her. She was basically my little sister and the tone of her voice broke my heart. This prophecy thing was weighing us both down, I knew. She knew if I died it'd be hers, but she also didn't want me going through it. We'd gone through enough late-night talks with that damned prophecy being the main topic.

"We're going to get them back," I said hoarsely. "It's Luke. I'm sure he'll charm his way out of there before we even make it out of New York."

She smiled and laughed at that. "He'd probably just have to smile at them," she laughed harder and I laughed with her. It was a great moment, but it didn't last long. I was suddenly hyper-aware of Luke's camp necklace in my suitcase.

Over at the basketball court, a few of the Hunters were shooting hoops. One of them was arguing with a guy from the Ares cabin. The Ares kid had his hand on his sword and the Hunter girl looked like she was going to exchange her basketball for a bow and arrow any second.

"I'll break that up," Thalia said, gesturing towards them.

"I'm fine with that. I need to go change, anyways. Circle around the cabins once you're done with that, and I'll find you." She nodded and we parted ways. 

Somehow, even though it was always just me, my cabin felt lonelier. It seemed that my subconscious was trying to make it really noticeable that there was no chance Luke would be joining me that night. I’d be alone to deal with my dreams. 

At least I could finally change out of that godsforsaken Mrs. Claus dress. 

I unpacked my suitcase once I was done, just to give myself something to do while Thalia sorted out the fight. It went by much quicker than I wanted it to, though, and now I was left with an empty suitcase and Luke's necklace. 

I was overcome with the intense feeling of needing to cry again, but somehow, I managed to shove it away. Thinking, no, knowing we were going to get them back, I tied his necklace around my neck, just like I did when I fought Ares. It'd given me luck then (or maybe Tyche was feeling generous that day), so maybe it'd give me luck now. 

The cabins were the weirdest collection of buildings you'd ever see. Zeus and Hera's big white-columned buildings, Cabins One and Two, stood in the middle, with five gods' cabins on the left and five goddesses' cabins on the right, so they all made a U around the central green and the barbecue hearth. I hung out there a lot, chatting with Hestia. She was pretty much the only god or goddess I’d ever shown true admiration for, and I always gave her some of my dinners.

After noticing Thalia was taking a little bit longer than expected, I decided to go ahead and start making rounds. I went over to the Hermes cabin, who had already heard the news. Although it was their brother and sister who were missing, they all gave me sympathetic looks when I appeared in their doorway. 

"Chiron says we're having a game of Capture the Flag against the hunters tomorrow night," I said, leaning up against the doorframe and crossing my arms. It was silent for a few seconds and then there were loud groans. 

Travis and Connor hopped to their feet, identical mischievous smiles covering their faces. 

"Oh, gods," I joked looking at them as they walked past me. "What are you two about to do?"

"Oh, dear Allie," Travis patted my head, officially taller than me after it being the other way around the last two and a half years. "You'll find out soon enough." Then he frowned, grabbed my arm and spoke quieter, "we don't blame you for Luke and Brylie. You had to have done everything you could." 

Tears filled my eyes again, with me yet again keeping them at bay. "We're going to get them back. Mr. D. thinks they'll have to find their way out themselves, but if they don't let us go out and look for them, me and Thalia are going out on our own." 

He and Connor both nodded. "Thanks, Allie," Connor said and their smirks returned. "Well, we'll be off." 

I followed them out and then we went our separate ways. After going around to the cabins, I made my way back to my cabin.

My first spoil of war, the minotaur horn, was still hung on my wall where it'd been since I'd first put it up. Surrounding it were the hundreds of polaroids and pictures I'd taken of me and my friends whenever we had the chance. It looked a lot like my room in East Hampton and my apartment in Manhattan, just with another bed. 

I took off my cuff bracelet and activated the shield. It creaked noisily as it spiraled out. Dr. Thorn's spikes had dented the brass in a dozen places. One gash kept the shield from opening all the way, so it looked like a pizza with two slices missing. The beautiful metal pictures that my brother had crafted were all banged up. In the picture of me and Luke fighting the Hydra, it looked like a meteor had made a crater in my head. I hung the shield on its hook, next to the Minotaur horn, but it was painful to look at now. Maybe Beckendorf could fix it for me. He was the best armorsmith in the camp. I'd ask him at dinner. 

I was staring at the shield when I noticed a strange sound— water gurgling— and I realized there was something new in the room. At the back of the cabin was a big basin of gray sea rock, with a spout like the head of a fish carved in stone. Out of its mouth burst a stream of water, a saltwater spring that trickled into the pool. The water must've been hot, because it sent mist into the cold winter air like a sauna. It made the room feel warm and summery, fresh with the smell of the sea. I stepped up to the pool. There was no note attached or anything, but I knew it could only be a gift from Poseidon, given after I’d left my cabin the first time. 

I looked into the water and said, "Thanks, Dad."

The surface rippled. At the bottom of the pool, coins shimmered— a dozen or so golden drachma. I realized what the fountain was for. It was a reminder to keep in touch with my family. 

I opened the nearest window, and the wintry sunlight made a rainbow in the mist. Then I fished a coin out of the hot water. 

"Iris, O Goddess of the Rainbow," I said, "accept my offering." I tossed in a coin and it disappeared.

"Show me Tyson," I requested. "At the forges of the Cyclopes." 

The mist shimmered, and the image of my half brother appeared. He was surrounded by fire, which would've been a problem if he weren't a Cyclops. He was bent over an anvil, hammering a red-hot sword blade. Sparks flew and flames swirled around his body. There was a marble-framed window behind him, and it looked out onto dark blue water— the bottom of the ocean. 

"Tyson!" I yelled. He didn't hear me at first because of the hammering and the roar of the flames. "TYSON!" 

He turned, and his one enormous eye widened. His face broke into a crooked yellow grin. "Allie!" He dropped the sword blade and ran at me, trying to give me a hug. The vision blurred and I instinctively lurched back. 

"Tyson, it's an Iris-message. I'm not really here." 

"Oh." He came back into view, looking embarrassed. "Oh, I knew that. Yes." 

"How are you?" I asked, trying to sound upbeat. "How's the job?" 

His eye lit up. "Love the job! Look!" He picked up the hot sword blade with his bare hands. "I made this!" 

"That's really cool." 

"I wrote my name on it. Right there." 

"Awesome. Listen, do you talk to Dad much?" 

Tyson's smile faded. "Not much. Daddy is busy. He is worried about the war." 

"What do you mean?"

Tyson sighed. He stuck the sword blade out the window, where it made a cloud of boiling bubbles. When Tyson brought it back in, the metal was cool. "Old sea spirits making trouble. Aigaios. Oceanus. Those guys." 

I knew what he was talking about. He meant the immortals who ruled the oceans back in the days of the Titans. Before the Olympians took over. The fact that they were back now, with the Titan Lord Kronos and his allies gaining strength, was not good. 

"Is there anything I can do?" I asked. 

Tyson shook his head sadly. "We are arming the mermaids. They need a thousand more swords by tomorrow." He looked at his sword blade and sighed. "Old spirits are protecting the bad boat." 

"The Princess Andromeda?" I said. "Annabeth and Cody's boat?" 

"Yes. They make it hard to find. Protect it from Daddy's storms. Otherwise, he would smash it." 

"Smashing it would be good." 

Tyson perked up, as if he'd just had another thought. "Luke! Is he there?" 

"Oh, well..." My heart felt like a bowling ball. Tyson, although Luke had been cold to him the first two weeks he'd known him, thought Luke was the coolest thing since peanut butter (and he seriously loved peanut butter). I guess he liked that Luke always had my back and kept me from dying. "Well, no... he's not here right now." 

"Tell him hello!" He beamed. "Hello to Luke!" 

"Okay." I fought back a lump in my throat. "I'll do that." 

"And, Allie, don't worry about the bad boat. It is going away." 

"What do you mean?" 

"Panama Canal! Very far away." I frowned. Why would Annabeth take her demon-infested cruise ship all the way down there? The last time we'd seen her, she'd been cruising along the East Coast, recruiting half-bloods and training her monstrous army. 

"All right," I said, not feeling reassured. "That's... good. I guess." 

In the forges, a deep voice bellowed something I couldn't make out. 

Tyson flinched. "Got to get back to work! Boss will get mad. Good luck, Sister!" 

"Okay, tell Dad—" 

But before I could finish, the vision shimmered and faded. I was alone again in my cabin, feeling even lonelier than before. 

***

I was pretty miserable at dinner that night. I mean, the food was excellent as usual. You can't go wrong with barbecue, pizza, and never-empty soda goblets. The torches and braziers kept the outdoor pavilion warm, but we all had to sit with our cabin mates, which meant I was alone at the Poseidon table. Thalia sat alone at the Zeus table, but we couldn't sit together. Camp rules. At least the Hephaestus, Ares, and Hermes cabins had a few people each. Nico sat with the Stoll brothers, since new campers always got stuck in the Hermes cabin if their Olympian parent was unknown. The Stoll brothers seemed to be trying to convince Nico that poker was a much better game than Mythomagic. I hoped Nico didn't have any money to lose. 

The only table that really seemed to be having a good time was the Artemis table. The Hunters drank and ate and laughed like one big happy family. Zoe sat at the head like she was their mother. She didn't laugh as much as the others, but she did smile from time to time. Her silver lieutenant's band glittered in the dark braids of her hair. I thought she looked a lot nicer when she smiled. 

Bianca di Angelo seemed to be having a great time. She was trying to learn how to arm wrestle from the big girl who'd picked a fight with the Ares kid on the basketball court. The bigger girl was beating her every time, but Bianca didn't seem to mind. 

When we'd finished eating, Chiron made the customary toast to the gods and formally welcomed the Hunters of Artemis. The clapping was pretty half hearted. Then he announced the "goodwill" capture-the-flag game for tomorrow night, which got a lot better reception. 

Afterward, we all trailed back to our cabins for an early, winter lights out. I was exhausted, which meant I fell asleep easily. That was the good part. The bad part was, I had a nightmare, and even by my standards, it was terrifying and awful. 

Luke and Brylie were on a dark hillside, shrouded in fog. It almost seemed like the Underworld, because I immediately felt claustrophobic and I couldn't see the sky above— just close, heavy darkness, as if I were in a cave. 

They struggled up the hill and after Brylie slipped a few times, Luke put her on his back. Old broken Greek columns of black marble were scattered around, as though something had blasted a huge building to rums. 

My eyes widened as I saw Luke's shoulder. One of Thorn's spikes had to have hit him, because it was green and, in truth, looked awful. Blood trailed down his arm. Brylie, one the other hand, looked pale and had a large cut going down her calf. 

"Thorn!" Luke cried. "Where are you? Why did you bring us here?" He scrambled over a section of broken wall and came to the crest of the hill. He gasped. 

There was Annabeth. And she was in pain.

She was crumpled on the rocky ground, trying to rise. The blackness seemed to be thicker around her, fog swirling hungrily. Her clothes were in tatters and her face was scratched and drenched with sweat, I couldn't see what was wrong with her. She seemed to be struggling against some invisible curse, as though the fog itself was squeezing her to death. I clenched my teeth and, although she was dead set on killing us all, I couldn't help but feel slightly bad for her. She was still a fourteen-year-old girl, after all. 

"Luke!" she called. "Help me! Please!" He ran forward and let Brylie down on the ground. 

I tried to cry out: She's a traitor! Don't trust her! 

But my voice didn't work in the dream. 

Luke had tears in his eyes. He reached down like he wanted to touch Annabeth's face, but at the last second, he hesitated. 

"What happened?" he asked. 

"They left me here," Annabeth groaned. "Please. It's killing me." 

"Why should I trust you?" Luke asked. His voice was filled with hurt. 

"You shouldn't," Annabeth said. "I've been terrible to you. But if you don't help me, I'll die." 

Let her die, I wanted to scream. Annabeth had tried to kill us in cold blood too many times. She didn't deserve anything from Luke. 

Then, the darkness above Annabeth began to crumble, like a cavern roof in an earthquake. Huge chunks of black rock began falling. Luke rushed in just as a crack appeared, and the whole ceiling dropped. He held it somehow— tons of rock. He kept it from collapsing on him and Annabeth just with his own strength. It was impossible. Luke was insanely strong, but there was no way he could have been able to do that. I struggled against the force holding me still in my dream, using all of my strength to get free, even if I knew it was futile. 

Annabeth rolled free, gasping. 

"Thanks," she managed. Then she smirked, that evil look her face had gained coming back. Any sympathy I had before disappeared immediately. 

"Help me hold it," Luke groaned, a vein in his neck popping. 

I struggled more, every bit of strength I had fighting against an invisible force. Then, something incredible happened.

I almost threw myself to the floor when the force let up. With a gasp, I regained my balance and sprinted over to Luke and helped him hold it. 

Even in the dream, I could feel the pain. I could feel myself waking up from it. Brylie scrambled to her feet as well and ran to Luke's other side. 

Annabeth smiled, as if our attempts at staying alive were hilarious. She laughed and walked away. Through the pain and my waking conscious, I saw Cody meet her just before they started walking back down the mountain. 

I looked to Luke and Brylie, who seemed to be in as much pain as I was in, and I bolted awake, clawing at my sheets. There was no sound other than the gurgle of the saltwater spring. The home screen of my phone told me it was midnight. But that wasn’t the bad part.

When I sat up, the weight of the sky was still on my shoulders.

*    *    *

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MedLinks volunteers aid students in residence halls with minor medical issues

New Post has been published on https://thedigitalinsider.com/medlinks-volunteers-aid-students-in-residence-halls-with-minor-medical-issues/

MedLinks volunteers aid students in residence halls with minor medical issues

For 30 years, MIT MedLinks liaisons have volunteered to support MIT students with first-line medical care. Living in each of MIT’s residence halls and in numerous fraternities, sororities, and independent living groups, MedLinks administer basic first aid, share over-the-counter medicines when needed, explain MIT Health’s policies and procedures, and often simply listen to classmates talk about their health and well-being. MedLinks also help build community and plan events that bring people in their residence halls together. Recent events include ice cream sundae building, canvas painting, and tie-dying T-shirts.

Students who need ibuprofen in the middle of the night, twist their ankle and need an ice pack, or just need some throat lozenges can knock on their MedLinks volunteer’s door to get help with any of these and a host of other medical matters.

Greg Baker, senior program manager for community wellness at MIT Health, says the 150 MedLinks volunteers play a crucial role in connecting students to MIT Health and a host of other services.

“There is a 12-hour training for new volunteers that includes a review of MIT Health’s clinical offerings, campus and community resources, the supplies they receive and in what situations they should or should not be distributed, as well as active listening, and caregiver burnout. We’re also lucky to have our campus partners host sessions to share more about their departments — including the Ombuds Office, DoingWell, Alcohol and Other Drug Services, Institute Discrimination and Harassment Response Office, DAPER [Department of Athletics, Physical Education and Recreation], and Student Mental Health and Counseling,” says Baker.

After a year as a MedLinks volunteer, students can become a MedLinks residential director (RD) after going through additional training. The RD coordinates monthly meetings and events with the other MedLinks in their living group, checks supplies, and along with other MedLinks submits reports to MIT Medical.

Em Ball and Maia DeMeyer are residential directors for Burton Connor and Random Hall, respectively. Ball, a junior majoring in chemistry who is originally from Iowa, became a MedLinks volunteer because she is interested in going to medical school when she completes her undergraduate studies.

“One of the best things about being an RD is meeting and helping people. I especially enjoy putting together our events. We just had a cupcake-decorating event, and the people who came had a great time and said they had fun. The ability to take a break for your mental health is undervalued and very important,” says Ball.

DeMeyer, a sophomore majoring in computer science and engineering who is originally from Washington state, became a MedLinks volunteer for similar reasons: “I like to take care of people. I would rather someone knock on my door in the middle of the night seeking help than ignore a medical problem. I also enjoy being a resource for our community because Random Hall is small; it feels like family there.”

Flu season tends to be busier than the rest of the year. Ball and DeMeyer often advise students when they should go to MIT Health, Student Support Services, or Urgent Care. They also interview potential MedLinks liaisons and help onboard them once they have completed training.

Baker observes, “They have a lot of responsibility, as Em is the RD for 14 other MedLinks volunteers and Maia is the RD for five other volunteers. We appreciate their help, as well as the help of all our MedLinks volunteers. We hold celebration dinners and give them small gifts of appreciation at year’s end.”

DeMeyer and Ball love their residential communities and still make time to sing with the MIT Centrifugues co-ed a cappella group, where Ball is co-music director and DeMeyer is the business manager. Ball is also a member of track and field and cross-country teams, and DeMeyer serves on several of Random Hall’s governing committees.

“I found my niche here at MIT and it feels like home. It’s challenging, and MIT pushes everyone to be their best, so I know I can prosper here,” says DeMeyer. Ball agrees, “MIT fits my personality. It’s a very supportive community.”

MIT students who are interested in learning more about the MedLinks program can visit the website for more information.