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myosotisa · 1 year ago

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Try Again - s.h.

Chapter 1 ǁ King of Hearts

ǁ summary: Steve finally scrapes together enough funds and the courage to leave Hawkins behind so he can join Robin in Chicago. One of the first people she introduces him to is you and the aftermath includes a warning that he has heard before (and won't listen to. Again).

ǁ tags: hurt/comfort, angst (with a happy ending not in this chapter). strangers to friends to lovers. set in 1990 Chicago. hurt and slowly healing!Reader and hopeless romantic!Steve. afab!reader, she/her pronouns used, no y/n. this is the only part in the series from Steve's POV.

‖ word count: 2.5k

ǁ series masterlist ǁ next part (coming soon) ǁ

“Have I mentioned lately that you’re hopeless?”

Steve flopped back onto Robin’s couch with a groan, tossing his forearm over his eyes to hide his embarrassment. “If by lately you mean an hour ago, then yeah.”

From her arm chair beside the couch, a bag of popcorn steadily being shoved into her mouth as she watched on amused, she continued, “Then allow me to once again remind you that you are completely hopeless. And this is not the girl you wanna get your heart broken over next.”

Robin had introduced the two of you for the first time tonight – you being her classmate at community college for the last 2 years and him being the best friend who had finally saved up enough to leave Hawkins and be her roommate. She’d anticipated this happening, because you were cute and he was Steve, but she hadn’t quite expected the severity of his sudden heart eyes and awkward complimenting toward you after just a few short hours.

He lowered his arm so he could prop himself up on his elbows to look her in the eye. “She’s already in a relationship, isn’t she?”

“Nope,” she popped the ‘p’ for effect, another handful of popcorn prepared. “The exact opposite actually.”

The skin between his brows folded over itself as he tilted his head, confused. “What? What does that mean?”

She held up a finger for him to wait, finishing her absurdly large mouthful before swallowing to answer. “I mean that in the entire time I’ve known her, she has never mentioned dating or being in a relationship or talking to anyone, guy or girl. And she might just be private or something but she also fucking hates rom coms and rolls her eyes at couples on campus, so I don’t think it’s just being shy.”

Flopping back down with a groan, he threw his arms out wide and almost knocked his glass off the coffee table. “Who hates rom coms?” He asked, like the idea in and of itself was absurd.

She shrugged, reaching for her drink on the coffee table as a few kernels fell off her lap and onto the ground. “Maybe she’s a nun or something, I don’t know. Just… Don’t even think about it, okay? It’s not gonna happen.”

If only it was that easy.

Having missed his best friend and also being new to town, Steve was then involved in almost every plan Robin made, which more often than not also included you. The two of you had become easy friends – not close by any means but fully capable of joking around and talking whenever Robin was late or off somewhere else.

And while he had tried to take Robin’s advice and not let his budding crush bloom, he still found himself more attracted to you by the day. You were smart and witty with a sharp mouth that sometimes spoke before your brain caught up and left you embarrassed and scrambling to recover. Not to mention cute and kind, with a bright smile and a loud laugh that made his heart thump painfully in his chest.

Also so, so funny – he swore it was easier for you to make him laugh than anyone he had ever known (besides Robin), even when he was in the worst of moods. It was clear as day that humor was the primary aspect of your relationship with his best friend. The two of you ended up sending yourselves into hysterics on a daily basis; digging into jokes and ripping back and forth until you were both rolling around in tears.

But there were definitely things that he noticed that made Robin’s theory seem plausible. How you groaned and complained whenever anyone wanted to watch a romance movie, sometimes even got up and left the room when an action movie had a big couple kissing moment. You never talked about anything related to dating or sex but would listen politely and attentively when someone else brought it up. Whenever one of your mutual friends asked for dating advice from the group, yours was always thoughtful and realistic – sometimes to the point of pessimism.

He couldn’t help but be curious – not even specifically because of his own hidden feelings toward you, but just generally to learn more about you. He’d heard before about people who just had no interest at all in romance or sex, and maybe you were one of those people. Or maybe you just wanted to focus on school or something like that. He didn’t want to judge. He just wanted to know.

His first opportunity to ask came a few weeks later. You, him, and Robin were in a booth at your favored late night diner. Robin had called an Emergency French Fry meeting – so the three of you ordered a variety of fried foods to share across the table and some milkshakes as you both listened to Robin recounting her date.

She was still quite new to the act – having gained enough confidence in this new place to try to ask girls out when she felt safe to – but it still didn’t happen super often. And tonight’s date had gone really, really well for her. Rose was a bit more brave now that she knew Robin also liked girls and had pulled out all the stops; holding her hand as they walked down the boardwalk and putting an arm around her on the Ferris Wheel. Stuff Robin still struggled with the confidence to do and was fucking ecstatic that it was finally happening to her.

You showed nothing but excitement for Robin, listening to her go over the evening in detail and asking thoughtful questions, offering insight when Robin asked for it. Steve mostly listened, only adding comments whenever Robin looked at him for input, spending his time watching and trying to keep up. It had become one of his favorite pastimes – especially when the two of you started to talk so fast and so animated that he could barely make heads or tails of any of it.

It was cute. How you both could talk at the speed of sound and skip over half your sentences and still completely understand what the other was saying. It made him so happy for Robin to have a friend like you, which also made you that much more endearing to him.

He only noticed a slight difference in your demeanor when Robin borderline squealed over the fact that Rose had kissed her at the end of the night with a little bit too much detail. You smiled and nodded and explained again how happy you were for her – but your eyes looked sad. Your smile didn't quite reach them.

When Robin complained about needing to go to the bathroom and departed in a whirlwind, silence fell. Your hands were clasped around the base of your milkshake glass, skin brushing the heavy condensation that had collected on the table as you stared at the melting dessert. There was still that same look in your eye as you appeared to be lost in thought. If he didn’t know any better, it almost looked like you wanted to cry but wouldn’t allow yourself to.

Clearing his throat a bit awkwardly, your eyes blinked back into focus and flicked up to meet his. Took a moment to grit his teeth as he considered if he was really about to stick his foot in his mouth and ask this. Decided to do it anyway. “Feel free to tell me to fuck off but… Do you have a crush on Robin or something?”

You sat straight up in near alarm, eyes widening at him. “No! No, I’m not–” You adjusted nervously in your seat, fingers tightening around your glass for a moment. “No, I don’t.”

Not sure how to take your vehement denial, he added on, “It’s okay if you do, I don’t judge,” you looked about ready to inject again but he kept going. “You just looked kind of sad when she was talking about the end of her date so…”

Your expression fell, eyes closing as you forced a deep breath. “It’s nothing like that, I swear. It’s just…”

And he thought you actually were about to tell him something, anything about the whole thing. Finally shed some light to (hopefully) end his weird preoccupation with the idea. But before you could open your mouth again, Robin was falling back into the booth beside him with a happy sigh and more thoughts on the date she had come up with while in the bathroom. You attempted to give her your full attention again, only every once in a while glancing back over at Steve nervously before flicking back.

You were quick to make your escape that night after Robin declared your meeting adjourned – not giving him a single second to potentially bring the topic up again, to his disappointment. Robin gave him a pointed look as you hurried off that asked ‘what did you do?’ to which he just shrugged and directed her back toward his car to go home.

There were a few other things over the next few weeks that just made him more confused. There were sometimes he could swear you were flirting with him, more than you flirted with your average friend. Ending up in his personal space in a crowd, walking beside him on the sidewalk, turning everything you possibly could into a competition between the two of you, laughing louder at his jokes than was probably warranted. But maybe that was just wishful thinking on his part.

One time he’d been invited over to your apartment (with Robin), taking in everything he could to try to learn more about you. He’d made a teasing comment of, “For someone who doesn’t like romance movies, you sure do have a lot of romance books.” You’d spent the next hour wildly alternating between annoyed, embarrassed, and something that looked like fear.

While teasing was about 75% of your interactions together, he’d learned that teasing about that specific topic wasn’t something that went well with you.

Overall, he learned a lot about you. Not just your strange behavior when it came to the topics of romance, but the little things. Like your usual order at the diner and your favorite drinks. The arcade machine you spent the most time at and your most repeated mixtape from your car, plus your favorite song on it. How your eyes lit up when you saw a dog being walked or a cat lounging in a window. That your closet was mostly monotone and heavy on black, and seeing you wearing a color was a rare day. That you went to school at the community college full time while also working full time but somehow always still had plenty of time to be with your friends or help someone out.

He was surprised to find you noticed things about him too – ordering him a drink to be ready when he showed up after you, asking how something had gone at his new job. Things that people normally wouldn’t have remembered, much less cared about. And you weren’t just asking to be nice. You actually, really wanted to know about his normal day to day.

It really didn’t make it easy for him to pretend he wasn’t in way too deep on his feelings for you.

On a cold August night, after a group of you had spent the night in a pinball competition that the two of you got absurdly competitive about (despite both being painfully average at pinball), he offered to walk you home. He’d driven to the bar-cade with Robin but she was still cheering on her now-girlfriend Rose when you explained you were planning to leave for the night, so he had time to walk you home and be back in time to drive her. Fully having expected you to say no, to brush off that it wasn’t that far and you didn’t want him to have to walk back, he was delightfully surprised when you agreed.

The two of you had started out side by side, your arms wrapped tight to keep in the warmth of your light jacket and his hands tucked into his pockets. Without warning, he said, “Hold on, switch with me,” with a light hand on your shoulder. Noticed how you instinctively stiffened at the small moment of contact, not moving as he pulled away his hand and walked around to be in between you and the street.

“Oh,” was your soft reply, realizing that was why he wanted to switch, why he had touched you. You got moving again, unconsciously inching close enough for your shoulders to brush as your walk continued. It took another minute or two to shake off the unexpected interaction, but then the two of you settled into another easy conversation that led you all the way to your apartment.

Unlocking the door and propping it open, you surprised him by turning and leaning back against the door frame. “Thank you, Steve. For walking me home.”

His smile was easy, a bit crooked as he waved off your thanks. “It’s no problem. Anytime, you know that.”

“Yeah,” you offered softly, almost in a sigh. “Yeah, I do.”

And really, he couldn’t help himself. Here you were, leaning back against your door frame right in front of him, just the two of you, after a really fun night. The warm overhead light of the hallway made it look like you were almost glowing as you smiled at him in a way that gave him butterflies. He glanced down at your lips, struck with how much he wished he could kiss you, before he even realized what he was doing.

Your expression turned pained, almost to the point of a wince as you averted eye contact. Softly, almost a whisper, you begged him, “Please don’t look at me like that.”

Caught red handed, flushing all the way up to his ears, he faked ignorance by asking, “Like what?”

“Like you want to kiss me.”

When your eyes met his, they were sad again. Like you wanted to cry but you wouldn’t allow yourself to. And maybe he was a little bit of a lovesick fool when he whispered, “Would that really be such a bad thing?”

You huffed a humorless laugh, eyes closing as you took another deep breath like you needed to center yourself. When you looked up at him again, it was with a certain self-deprecating humor that you told him, “You, Steve Harrington, are Prince Charming. And I… I would never be your fairytale ending.”

He didn’t even have time to process what you might have meant before you murmured goodnight and shut the door in his face.

thanks for reading!! please reblog and leave a reaction if you liked it, they make my day <3

#steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington hurt/comfort #steve harrington angst #steve harrington series #steve harrington x female reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic #myos ideas #myo4harrington

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anstarwar · 1 year ago

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Bonding time for the commanders

Wrote a thing for it on the fly, not edited at all, but was having fun thinking about their dynamic...

"So, um, what's it like in there?" Barriss asked casually, flicking some dirt from her skirts.

Gree, who was lost in his datapad entering some note about a leaf he just discovered, only replied with "hmm?"

This is how their conversations usually went, much to Barriss' frustration. She'd been...commander (weird)...of the 41st for three months now and had gotten no further in breaking through to her fellow commander.

Maybe this is just how it was supposed to work between Jedi and Clones? They had a job to do, she reasoned, so maybe the clones didn't want to be...friends? That didn't feel right to her, but nothing to be done about it.

"Never mind," she cleared her throat, wrapped her robes tighter around her shoulders and went to find Master Luminara.

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Two months later...

"Do you want to see, Commander?" Gree asked as he examined the visor of his helmet in his hands. He'd spent the better part of an hour fiddling with the wires, scrubbing the dirt away, and touching up scraped off bits of green paint.

Barriss looked at him, eyebrow arched in question.

"...my bucket...helmet. You asked a few months ago and...well, if you're still curious." He answered, rolling it around in his hands.

"Is it ok?" Barriss replied, hesitant.

Gree wasn't sure how to answer that. Helmets, to the clones, were personal. You didn't share yours with anyone just willy-nilly. They were designed for protecting a very vital part of their body (though Gree was convinced some of his brothers didn't use their noggins as often as they should, so he's not sure how effective they were for those particular troops), and tweaked and customized to each wearer's specifications. They were as close as anything to a prized possession for many of them and "is it OK" wasn't as simple a question as it sounded.

But Gree had also spent a month trying to get to know his little Commander. Well, little wasn't quite the right word. Barriss was fearsome, strong, and wise beyond her years - but she was small, barely coming up to his shoulder. She was too young to see the things they saw on a daily basis, and it pained him to know she also had to live this life. That, like the clones, she wouldn't truly know what it was like to be a kid. It was like a blaster to the gut the day he realized she also didn't have much choice in the matter, and that she was working so hard to hide her own pain and worry.

It hit him one day that maybe she needed reassurance just as much as his own troops. Not from the fighting or the uncertainty of what tomorrow would bring, but from her own self-doubts and insecurities. She was his little sister, his vod'ika. So he'd decided he'd do what he could to reassure her and, he reasoned, that meant breaking down his own walls and getting to know her. To build trust.

"Yeah...yeah its ok, here just..." Gree moved to place it on her head, but paused. "...don't know if it'll fit over your robes there, Commander."

Barriss laughed. "No I suppose not." She scrunched up her nose, an expression Gree observed she'd make when she was coming to a decision.

"What about..." Barriss pushed back her hood and unwrapped the robe from around her shoulders.

"Here," she said, extending it out to Gree with a shy smile.

He took it, holding it in front of him like it was a specimen he found on the underside of a lartie, and not a piece of cloth. He arched his brow at the Padawan.

"You're sharing something important with me, so it's only fair I do the same, yeah?" she said in explanation.

Gree nodded, but wasn't sure what he was supposed to do with it. He shook it out, not sure what he was expecting it to do, but it felt like the best option. It wasn't like he'd never seen or held a cloak before, but this belonged to a Jedi, his Commander. Was there some sort of protocol or etiquette he should be aware of?

Barriss chuckled. "You can put it on and I'll put on your helm-bucket?" She looked into the visor of the helmet as if it would tell her what to call it. "Bucket," she nodded, turned it the proper direction and plopped it on her head.

"Whoa," crackled through the vocoder as things flickered to life on the HUD. Scrolls of data came through, lights blinked here and there --indicating what she wasn't sure. It was a lot and she felt the urge to rip it off of her head to stop the onslaught of information. She thought better of it, though. Gree had trusted her with it and she didn't want to make some egregious error in etiquette or cause offense.

She centered her breathing as her eyes adjusted to the flashes and pings. "Oh my god," her hand flew up, smacking the aerator, unused to the extra bulk around her face.

Giggles erupted from the vocoder. "Commander Gree you, haha, you look...well..." Gree shifted, pulling the hood of the robe over his head while simultaneously flicking the edges of the robe over his pauldrons. He was struck, suddenly, by an urge he hadn't let himself feel since he was a cadet.

Grinning mischievously he stuck his tongue out at the young commander. "I look amazing! I think I might keep this." He flapped the edge of the robe at Barriss.

"I didn't say..." Barriss lifted the helmet and held it propped on the top of her head. She stuck her tongue out as if that would make him give the robe back.

He stuck his tongue out in return.

"Click click." Gree and Barriss' whipped their heads around at the sound.

"Lookin' good commanders!" Captains Styles and Grey stood, barely suppressing their laughter, Styles holding up his datapad, clearly having just snapped a holo of their superior officers.

"You are going to delete that holo right now, Captain!" Gree grumbled, pushing the hood back from his head.

"You are going to send me that holo right now, Captain Styles!" Barriss said as she strode over to the clone, holding out her hand. "Can I see?"

"Sorry Commander, but the Commander outranks you," Styles looked at Gree, eyes twinkling with glee, as he handed the datapad to the Padawan.

"Oh, yup, you're right Commander Gree. You do look amazing!" She beamed as she took in the holo.

Gree sighed, he knew when he was defeated. Pulling the purple hood back over his head he straightened and marched off towards camp.

"Hey! Your bucket, Gree! I need my robe back, hey!" Barriss yelled as she chased after him.

+++

oops this was way longer than I meant. If you made it to the end here, thanks for reading!

#commander gree #barriss offee #clones and padawans #similar in so many ways #fashionista gree #my art #silly #drabble #the clone wars #41st elite corps #my writing

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earthnashes · 1 year ago

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MORE GARGYOLES AU BAYBEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

I'm holding watch parties on my community discord for the Gargoyles; we're still on Season 1 but even then it's really helping give me some contextual clues I need for building the AU into something more sustainable. I'm super excited to get into Season 2; we'll be finishing off this season next Thursday before we continue on! :)

But ye! For this drawing; an experiment that went a little outta hand, but I'm glad it did. I really like the look of it; giving it some level of polish without resorting to coloring. I've always liked this sort of effect but rarely do I ever do it myself, but I think I'll have to do it more because it was far less time consuming to do! :>

So ye! More lore and brick work is being laid out for the AU, and once again I've written a short story to go along with the art!

For those of you who'd rather skip though, I placed it under the "Keep Reading" line, and for context for everyone here are some AU notes along with a TL;DR summary of what's happening here:

-AU explores the concept of "what if Demona was set onto the path of Redemption?"

-TL;DR for this image: Takes place a few nights after this. Demona confronts Elisa after her talk with Angela. To everyone's surprise it doesn't go south.

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By all accounts Elisa thinks she should've expected this.

Especially with the life she's chosen for herself: top-rate detective with the highest arrest rate and cases solved on the force. In direct contact with Gargoyles-- literal living legends-- on a daily basis and what that typically entails, from revenge plots to sudden trips through the very fabrics of time. Enemies from all and every side, from supernatural to plain old human to the not-so-human and zealous occult.

And traveling Central Park alone in the dead of night? By all accounts, she should’ve expected this. Yet she still wasn’t prepared for the ambush.

One second she's halfway through the tunnel under the bridge. The next? Shoved face-first into grimy, soggy stone.

The taste of iron is sharp on her tongue as her teeth cut painfully into her lip on impact. It distracts her just enough before she finally zeroes in on the claws closed tight around the nape of her neck, another set digging hard into the leather of her jacket at her pinned wrists, easily piercing the material and biting into skin. She barely has time to gather her bearings before a familiar voice is hissing hot against her ear.

"You are not as clever as you think, detective."

Elisa's heart nearly beats out of her ribcage. "Demona," she breathes, alarmed but by no means surprised. It's been months since the last attempt the she-demon's made against her. Once again, Elisa curses allowing her guard to fall; she should've known it was only a matter of time before Demona struck. No matter how long this sudden bout of tremulous peace has gone.

"What do you want."

"That's exactly what I want to know," Demona drawls, pushing Elisa further into the rough stone. There's a seething sneer in her voice. " What are your intentions with Angela?"

Elisa pauses, her unease giving way to her confusion.

"What?"

Demona responds by gripping tighter, the tell-tale rumble of a growl behind her words. "You know damned well what I mean. It's no coincidence Angela has come to me so freely. Not if it meant lowering my guard; you're up to something." The gargoyle shoves Elisa none-too-gently against the stone again, her threat stark and clear. "And I don't take kindly to the thought anyone using my daughter like she's some sort of plaything--"

"--I'd never--" Elisa starts, offended, but she barely gets a word in before she's cut off with her own agonized grunt. Demona's bodily grinding her into the wall, the rough scrape of stone chafing at the skin of her cheek. She can barely breath with how hard the gargoyle pins her, straining for breath as Demona snarls at her, long teeth clacking dangerously close to her eye.

"Liar!" She barks, and Elisa hears how her tail cuts through the air as it lashes. "It's all you humans are ever good for! Weave empty words into pretty things, only to strike when your back is turned. Angela told me herself what you said, and your words ring hollow. You and I both know you don't believe any of it. What's your game?"

"So Goliath is right, then?" Elisa huffs in lieu of an answer, stilling herself and going mostly limp in Demona's grasp. Her common sense screams at her to struggle, to find an opening and break free... but her gut tells her stay put. Her father always told her to listen to her gut when it spoke, and it's never steered her wrong before. So she breathes in as much as she dares and forces each of her muscles to relax, to appear as little a threat as possible in her position.

Not too hard to do considering the circumstances, but it takes several breaths for her heart to stop trying to burst from her chest. Nor does it really erase the glower overtaking her face.

"Is that it? Angela shouldn't be anywhere near you. Shouldn't be allowed to choose for herself and that it was a mistake to even try to talk to you?"

"By the moon we glide under, I despise you, detective!" Demona hisses, and Elisa doesn't need to see her to know her eyes have begun glowing hot red. "I'm no fool; you view me a monster. You have absolutely nothing to gain from encouraging her to see me. Nothing. So why? What do you want with her?"

"Is it really so hard to believe I care for Angela?"

"Yes." Yet there is some degree of hesitance in Demona's voice when she says it, something Elisa nearly doesn't catch. As if the she-demon almost believes her own answer, but not entirely. There's enough evidence with Elisa aiding her old Clan-- never truly for her own gain -- that brings question to her conviction. "Humans don't do anything unless they gain something in return. You are either after her, my life, or something else." Demona allows Elisa's arm free to rake her claws against the stone of the bridge. It gives way easily as if nothing but dirt, leaving deep divots in a clear display of a threat. "Do not make me ask again."

"Then you're right," Elisa replies easily-- or as easily as her position allows-- and of all the responses she could've gotten Demona doesn't expect that. It's clear in how much she loosens her hold on Elisa in apparent surprise, no longer choking her so much as simply holding her in place now. Elisa's instincts flair then; demand she elbows the she-demon in the belly and get distance, yet even still her gut urges her: stay put.

"I do have something to gain. Angela's happiness."

Elisa doesn’t expect her words to have any real effect. Readies herself for Demona to snap at her again. Force her against the unforgiving stone, have her taste her own blood again, maybe even work up the nerve to inflict the bodily harm she always threatens. This is probably the closest she's gotten in a long while.

But Demona does… nothing. Simply a presence behind her. One simmering with barely held anger and confusion and the weight of her own paranoia. But still as stone—listening-- all the same.

Stay put.

Elisa takes in a shaky breath.

"She's miserable, you know. When the clan speaks ill of you," She breathes quietly, surprising herself with the gentleness in her own voice. "Goliath explicitly forbids her from ever trying to talk to you. He thinks you're a lost cause." It’s not hard to think of Goliath’s demeanor in those moments; regret, sadness, guilt, traces of betrayal and anger whenever he speaks of his ex. He's long since given up on reaching out to Demona.

"And maybe I did too, once. But now, I--"

The look on Demona's face when realizing who Angela was flashes through her memory. The shock, quickly replaced with unbridled joy and hope. Something Elisa was unsure Demona could feel up until that very moment.

"--you could've left us to die by Thailog's hand. You could've ended all of humanity with just a press of a button. But you didn't."

Elisa doesn't mention the sudden lack of schemes against all of mankind. She doesn't mention the abrupt disinterest in attacking the Clan. She doesn't say anything about how--even after all this time, even now-- she is still alive, when Demona has had ample chances to rid herself of her. Elisa is no slouch: she's proud enough to admit she's held her own against Demona a fair number of times. But there were times where only her keen eye and years of training caught the very slight hesitance from Demona when she was all but helpless.

"I don't think you're a lost cause," Elisa says unwaveringly. Nothing in her voice gives way to any underlying uncertainty she has. To the questions she burns to ask—why? What changed? -- but won’t. Not yet. "I have my reservations. But I don't think it's anyone's place to make that decision for Angela. Nor do I think it's fair to rob you of the chance to prove to her you're more than your past."

Elisa hesitates for just a second before she says clearly into the silence of the night, compelled by Demona's uncharacteristic show of restraint: "...I-I don’t think you’re a monster."

I never thought you to be.

The thought comes unbidden, and it catches her off guard at how honest it is. She doesn’t put it to words, only remaining in place and holding steady. Waiting.

Demona still doesn't say anything. Doesn't really do anything at first, but there's a very clear shift in the air, subtle as it may be. Elisa's instincts are no longer in overdrive, no longer in high alert of danger. Somehow --even in Demona's sharp grasp-- there is no more danger to be aware of.

It's in the way the gargoyle's silence turns contemplative and not a raging storm cloud. In how she suddenly doesn't dig so hard in Elisa's jacket, tucking the tips of her claws safely against the leather and not into delicate skin. The intent is no longer there.

Demona mutters something to herself, low enough for Elisa not to hear what she says, but even with her keen senses it still manages to surprise the detective when the gargoyle simply... moves away.

It's by no means gentle. She abruptly drops the human without any sort of care, allowing her to crumple under her own weight when she finally touches ground after several minutes being held aloft. But the principle still stands.

Demona let her go.

"…I don't believe you," She grunts in a voice filled with scorn, but the usual bite is missing. Elisa allows herself a moment to rub at the scratches and welts those wicked claws left behind. She clears her throat before she chances a glance at the gargoyle and finds her back turned to her.

"I'm not asking you to," Elisa says softly. She eyes the gargoyle warily. "And I still don't trust you. But I do trust Angela. She saw something worth her time in you; the least I can do is support her... and be there if it blows up in her face."

When Elisa finds the energy to stand, she musters up a warning glare at Demona, stance cautious but no less filled with promise. "Don't make me regret it."

The threat behind it is barely veiled, and it must be the right thing to say, because Demona only barely casts a glance her way. Her eyes are hard to read. And despite it, Elisa can see the smallest hint of something in them when forest green sweeps over her, foot to face, the faintest upturn to the corner of her mouth.

"Then we are on the same page."

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For some extra context:

-Demona is referring to how Elisa told Angela that she does actually believe Demona isn't pure evil, or a threat to her. Elisa doesn't trust Demona at all, but she recognizes that something has shifted in the gargoyle, and she knows she would never hurt Angela, so she sets aside her own doubts and encourages Angela to seek her mother out. I have plans to draw and write this interaction in the future so we have more context in this regard!

-Elisa strikes me as the type to be able to see things in varying shades of gray: Goliath isn't wrong in his reluctance to allow Angela near Demona, but she honestly doesn't think her heartless or a completely lost cause. Especially after she learns some of Demona's past

-Demona would never admit this, but she does actually respect Elisa. Much to her chagrin. Unlike most humans whom she barely bats an eye toward, she sees Elisa as her equal in prowess and intelligence, and she hates that she does, but she'd be a fool if she ignored it.

The further I get into the show I'll expand on this idea, but that's it for now. :)

#gargoyles #demona #elisa maza #my art #my stuff #au #headcanon #disney

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skysometric · 5 months ago

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there's no place to call home on the fediverse

i've been using Mastodon since long before the implosion of Twitter brought it into the mainstream conscious. i'm a fan of the tech, in theory. i have my hangups, like the fact that switching servers means you lose all of your post history, or the many instances that still play social politics with each other. some of these problems are being worked on, others i've (usually) been able to work around.

but something else is festering lately, and it's more than just the usual social politics.

the promise of the fediverse is alluring: you can follow all of your friends on any other site, from the comfort of your home server! except, lately, that seems to be impossible. no matter what i try, there's always friends of mine that i cannot follow for one reason or another.

for example: i'm not a big fan of Meta's new Threads, but i know a few friends who use it exclusively – and the promise of interoperability with Mastodon means that, in theory, i could just follow my friends from my Mastodon account. win-win, right?

well, no, because my instance has outright blocked Threads. and so have most of the smaller instances i've seen. this is purposeful, because they are (understandably) distrustful of Meta and anything Meta touches.

no matter how much i sympathize, though, it does mean that i cannot follow my friends on Threads from Mastodon.

i mean, hey, i could switch back to the flagship instance mastodon.social! they've openly allowed access to Threads! but there's a problem with that too, because a lot of the smaller instances (that my friends are on) also block mastodon.social.

as to why, many of them cite the waves of spam and bots that harass other users on a daily basis – that kind of thing is hard to moderate on both ends, so i vaguely understand the intent behind this decision. (i do not understand most of the other reasons for blocking the largest instance on the fediverse and alienating folks from their friends, such as disliking its owner. but whatever.)

long story short, right now i am denied access to many of my friends – and if i switch servers, losing all of my post history in the process... i will still be denied access to many of my friends.

"so run your own server!"

okay, let's pretend that i have the spare resources to spin up a server, and the desire to be a sysadmin for that server. like let's just set aside the tech cost that most people cannot afford, just for one second, because there's a more glaring issue here:

i'd still get blocked from many of my friends.

know why?

because many servers AUTOMATICALLY BLOCK small instances with only one user, citing security concerns and data scraping!!

there is literally no right answer here. no matter what i do, i will not be able to follow all of my friends on Mastodon. it is an impossible problem.

many folks like to call Mastodon the Linux of social media and say that the reason it hasn't caught on is that it's too complicated to understand. but even as a techie who understands exactly what's going on, i find Mastodon an impossible to parse social graph of blocked instances and inter-server drama. as things stand, there is no person who can join a server and follow all of their friends – there will always be compromises.

all i want is to find a home on the fediverse... but every house is part of a homeowner's association that wants to secede from the city.

#mastodon #fediverse #social media #writing

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spidervee · 2 years ago

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Hello there! If your requests are still open, maybe the Top Gun men with a short! reader

not me, a short!reader, completely being self indulgent 🌻💛 hope you enjoy, love! 18+ only; fem!reader, some sexual stuff, but mostly fluff!

jake “hangman” seresin

can you say size kink?

jake loves that he’s taller than you, that he practically towers over you and he cannot get enough of caging you in between his arms while you’re pressed against a wall

takes you home to Texas and loves that he has to pull out the little portable stairs for you to get on your horse because it’s what he used for the local kids when he was fifteen and teaching horseback riding to make some extra cash

when you move in together, he’s always picking you up and setting you on the kitchen counter so he can stand between your legs and kiss you

he’s got a mouth on him so he’s not above making little jokes like “hey baby, since you’re already so close to the ground…wanna get on your knees for me?” (you may swat at him, but then your knees are digging into the carpet so quick)

bradley “rooster” bradshaw

when he first saw you, it was at a little donut shop with a walk through window and, admittedly, the damn thing is set up like every customer is an NBA player, but your chin barely scrapes the counter and he can’t help but to laugh from his place in line behind you

buys you the prettiest heels to wear and makes you keep them on in bed

helps you in and out of the bronco, always—and we’re not talking just holding your hand and guiding you down. No, he’s full on hands on waist lifting you, giving you a little spin, and then setting you down all soft and kissing the top of your head

when you’re pregnant? forget it? the man thinks you’re the cutest little thing in a daily basis but with that belly? Bradley doesn’t think he’ll ever get over how good you look carrying the baby the two of you made

teasingly uses your shoulder as an arm rest until you take to tickling him every time he tries it

mickey “fanboy” garcia

you’re short, sure, but as Mickey has learned over the years, you’re feisty as hell

he hates that people tend to try to take advantage of you because you’re short and sweet-looking, but he also secretly enjoys watching the looks of shock when someone (usually an old, tall, white dude) tries to cut you in line at Starbucks or leers at you and you snap at them with a few choice words

loves keeping you tucked up into his side and being the big spoon but he knows that you also enjoy being the big spoon so he gives you your turn

when he comes home from deployment, you wrap yourself around him like a koala and he wouldn’t have it any other way

calls you yoda “because you’re so little, amore.”

robert “bob” floyd

Bob is super tall and overall just large, so much so that your taller friends teasingly say they hate you for pulling him because “what about us?”

your feet don’t touch the ground when you’re sitting at the bar at The Hard Deck and Bob always gets a good little laugh out of that (bonus: you generally just like sitting on his lap because it’s an excuse as to why your feet are dangling

javy “coyote” machado

you love to tackle him whenever he gets home from deployment, just straight up clotheslining him as he comes in the door, but you’re not quite strong enough to tip him over

of course, javy knows this and just pulls the both of you to the ground anyway, where he proceeds to tickle you

you’ve gotten used to climbing the counters at your apartment to reach the high shelves. when you start dating javy, he literally builds you a step-stool so you don’t have to go acrobatics to reach the wine glasses

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ghoul-foolery · 5 months ago

Text

Dirty Windows | 14 | Nora x Hancock

A Fallout 4 Soulmate AU

Fic Summary:

Hancock never thought he would find his soulmate. Once a common occurrence, soulmates turned into a bit of a rarity after the bombs dropped. It was to be expected when there was an influx of people getting shot in the face on a daily basis. So when Hancock discovered that he had a soulmate he was ecstatic; all of the people in the Commonwealth, and he was one of the lucky few.

Too bad his soulmate didn't want anything to do with him.

When Nora thought for sure she was going to die too, the pain stopped – and then there was nothing. Nothing but the emptiness. Nothing but the grief. Half of her soul was suddenly gone forever. She was dropped in the middle of the ocean, drifting among the waves with no land in sight. Then just as suddenly she had been cast adrift, she found land. The hole was filled the moment it had been created. As she gripped Nate’s vault suit and begged him to open his eyes, Nora found herself battling with the horrifying realization that she had another soulmate; that some stranger had taken Nate's place.

[ 1 ] <- [ 9 ] [ 10 ] [ 11 ] [ 12 ] [ 13 ] - [ 15 ]

When Nora approached Sturges, asking for help building a water purifier, he wasn’t a whole lot of help. The man was clearly already busy on another project on her approach, hammering away at the starts of a rickety foundation, and Nora didn’t expect him to drop everything and help but she sure expected more than a vague gesture towards his stacked tool box. With a tight frown marring her features, Nora dug through the tool box, sifting through drawers and boxes. She pulled what was familiar; screwdrivers, pliers, a ratchet and its accompanying box of mismatched bits, a wrench, and a booklet that detailed how to troubleshoot generator problems. After gathering her supplies, and avoiding Preston Garvey like the plague, Nora snuck out of town and made her way back to Concord with Dog in tow.

Nora knew how her brain worked, she knew how she retained information, and knowledge, and she knew that if she was going to figure out how to build something then she was going to need to know how it worked first. She needed to see the inside of the mechanism, and she needed to know what it required in order to function. A generator was very obviously not a water purifier but Nora had never been very mechanically inclined; she needed to start building some kind of foundational knowledge somewhere.

So she went to Concord, hoping to gather whatever odds and ends she came across, and find a functioning generator to experiment on along the way. There were generators on the upper levels of the museum, where the settlers had been hiding. They were too heavy to pack to Sanctuary Hills, so unless someone came and took them, they should be available to be gutted in the name of education.

Once safely secured inside the museum, the doors locked and Dog on watch, Nora began to tear apart the generator bolt by bolt, screw by screw. The guide that she had snagged from Sturges’ tool box didn’t pair with the model of generator she was tinkering with, but the basis of the information was all still the same. It detailed the basic structure, and it gave names to some of the strange parts inside. After gutting the machine, and documenting an inventory of all of the elements in her Pip-Boy, she started to put it back together; piece by piece, like a puzzle.

By the time she was finished, her back ached from all of the slouching. Her fingertips were tender, hands covered in dirt and oil, and riddled with new cuts and scrapes. She was tired, thirsty, hungry – but she felt like she had finally accomplished something for the first time in several days. Nora had worked her butt off, and while it hadn’t been a flawless execution, she was successful. She took the thing apart, put it back together, and it still worked. John hadn’t been feeding her step-by-step instructions in that soft, rusty voice of his. As much help as her new soulmate was willing to provide, sometimes Nora needed to figure things out on her own.

Nora’s relationship with John had shifted into friendly territory. On one hand, it was awfully nice to have someone to turn to in the middle of this mess, but on the other she knew that she needed to be careful. Though she wanted to hate him with all she was worth, he was so stupidly likable. John was funny, and kind, and he seemed to take all of her emotional baggage in stride. He was questioning, but never prying. Nora had glossed over most of the details regarding everything. He knew that she had been in the vault with her family. He knew that her husband, and soulmate, was killed, that her child was taken… but she didn’t go into details. As much as she wanted to trust him with everything, there were some things that were better played closer to the chest. What would happen if a vault filled with cryopods became public knowledge? That kind of technology in the wrong hands could do more harm than help.

Finished with her project, Nora went to the roof of the museum to get some fresh air. Leaving the building, she was immediately surprised to find how dark it was. She knew she had been working for a while, but hadn’t realized just how long. It gave her a nostalgic feeling akin to catching an afternoon movie at the theater, and leaving after it was well past dark. Nora thought of over-salted popcorn, and fizzy sweet drinks – and then she thought of Nate standing in front of some spaghetti western-esque movie poster, reminding her that he had been deployed with the lead actor for the upteenth time.

Nora sighed, hard and wistful as she peered up at a cloudy sky. The humidity was miserable, and the air smelled like petrichor. A walk in the rain sounded incredibly cathartic in a way that she couldn’t quite put to reason, but she couldn’t stomach the idea of having nothing dry to change into afterward.

Glancing down at Dog, who mindfully sat at her feet, she said, “Might as well stay here for the night, huh?”

There was no response beyond a single, small wave of his tail.

“Yeah,” she said in agreement. “We’ll stay here.”

Before heading in for the night, Nora took a walk along the roof. While there was an intent to do her due diligence and make sure that there wasn’t anyone – or anything – lurking in the surrounding ruins, the abundant cloud cover made sure she couldn’t see anything . A visual search was out of the question, and instead she resorted to listening. She went stock-still, closed her eyes, and strained her ears in an effort to pick up anything out of the ordinary.

The first roll of thunder made Nora scream, her entire body jolting in surprise. Dog barked. Nora opened her eyes just in time to see the clouds ignite in a violently lurid green. The smell of rain was joined with something that smelled rotten and burnt just as her Pip-Boy began to click insistently. Like some witless side character in a disaster film, Nora stared, unmoving, as another bolt of lightning lit the sky. The Geiger counter kicked up again, then quieted. In her moment of awed curiosity, Nora reached through the bond to John, the man with all of the answers – and she regretted it almost immediately.

”P-please, Mayor. It was just me!” The voice was desperate, frantic, and not John’s.

The image of a blade, big and lethal, caught the light in a dimly lit room. Nora watched, stupefied, as she was treated to a first person perspective of John pressing the tip of the knife to the begging man’s throat. Wide, teary eyes stared into hers, begging and pleading…

”Yer breakin’ my heart,” came John’s rasping voice. It was dipped down low, drawling, husky, and absolutely lethal. ”Why you gotta lie to your mayor, huh?” The knife pressed deeper, blood starting to pebble on the tip of the blade as the skin began to tear. The poor man gasped.

”I’m telling the truth, I swear-!”

Nora severed the bond with a strained gasp, eyes bulging and Geiger counter clicking. The thunder rolled, shaking her bones, and jolting her body into movement. She and Dog retreated back into the building. She felt sick. Nora huddled in the corner of the room that she had spent the majority of her day in. Pulling her knees to her chest, she placed her head between her knees and took deep breaths. The one person in all of the world that she was bound to was a… murderer? A psychopath? Someone who had no qualms with torture, clearly.

And she had trusted him with her life.

Maybe this really was hell.

Nora woke early the next morning to Dog sniffling at her face. Poor thing probably needed to go out and do his business. Slowly, she hoisted herself to her feet. She felt weak, and her stomach churned uncomfortably. There was a clammy gathering of sweat along the back of her neck and her hairline. Nora stumbled from the building just as the strength in her legs gave way. Blissfully cool morning air rushed to greet her, just as the ground greeted her knees as she sank to the ground. Dog scampered off to do his business as Nora realized that the nausea she felt the night before was more likely caused by radiation, and not the sickening realization that her soulmate liked to dabble in enhanced interrogation techniques.

Shifting to her butt, Nora wrestled with her rucksack until it was in her lap. She rifled through the contents until she found a lonely bag of RadAway. By the time she had prepared the IV, she was in tears.

”Mornin’, sweets,” John’s voice had a gently sleepy drawl to it, and then his tone crept up an octave in worry. ”Honey, you okay? You don’t feel so good.”

Taking deep, slow breaths, Nora lined the needle up with the vein in the crook of her elbow. Her stomach gave a gag-inducing churn just as she pushed the needle home. It hurt. She didn’t even know if she did it right. Her fingers fumbled with the IV, the bag and the infusion tubing until she weakly held it aloft to get the fluid running.

”RadAway? Nora, what the fuck happened?”

The saliva in her mouth felt too hot, too sticky. She spit at the ground beside her just before her stomach gave another lurch. Bile spattered on the ground beside her, soaking the leg of her vault suit.

”Nora? Tell me where you are.” Another heave. The vomit felt viscous in her throat. “Fuck, Nora. Nora! Tell me where you are, baby. I’ll come take care of you. I–”

Nora closed her eyes tight. The arm holding the bag up wavered, as she let out an incoherent sob. She wished John away. She didn’t want to talk to him. Didn’t want to be anywhere near him, not after what she saw last night.

After drifting in and out of consciousness for a couple of hours in the streets of Concord, Nora eventually came to, to the weathered features of Mama Murphy. The elderly woman was sitting on the ground beside Nora, holding the nearly empty RadAway bag in her hands.

“Not feelin’ so hot, huh kid?” She said in that airy way of hers, her hazy blue eyes meeting Nora’s while simultaneously seeming to look beyond her.

Nora’s head pulsed and she closed her eyes. She felt parched, like she hadn’t had a sip of water in a decade. She heaved a breath that was so rancid she could taste it.

“How did you find me?” Her voice was croaky.

“DogMeat is very fond of you,” Mama Murphy replied. She was infinitely gentle as she took Nora’s arm and pulled the IV free.

Nora suddenly felt guilty for the not-so-nice attitude she had met Mama Murphy with. A skeptic on the best of days, Nora had a particular aversion to alleged seers, and fortune tellers. They were all scam artists and thieves that preyed on vulnerable people seeking help. Plying the woman with drugs in exchange for a “vision” was just an added layer to the grift. Nora couldn’t help but think of the way she had scoffed and rolled her eyes when Murphy told her about the creature lurking beneath Concord… and now the woman was helping her sit up, pushing a bottle of (blissfully clean) water to her lips.

“You watched the lights.”

Nora coughed after a swallow. “Y’can say that.”

“You watched somethin’ else, too.” Mama Murphy knew about the deathclaw, she knew about Nora’s ties to Sanctuary Hills. And she seemed to know about her soulmate. “He ain’t so bad, you know. But he also is. A killer, and a savior – he’d do anything for you though, kid.”

Skeptical Nora suddenly felt curiously torn.

Tag List: @takottai / @a-little-pebbl / @brainrot-extravaganza

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k-slla · 10 months ago

Text

Before you continue to reading I'm letting you know that in here is a major spoiler for Spn se15.ep20 - you've been warned 🥲

Warnings: all angst this one, show level violence, death

WC: 2,222

I am sorry, but kind of I am not- I've cried a lot writing this and I hope that you will too..🤍

All mistakes are mine!

My Masterlist

Enjoy!

You sat at the library table, staring at the working voice recorder placed on the table in front of you. You didn’t even know what pushed you to do these recordings. Maybe you wished, deep in your heart, that somehow some version of Dean from an alternate universe would find them. All that sorrow, grief and pain that you went through from losing a soulmate of your world, should probably have some effect on them, too, right? He wouldn’t be the Dean you’re talking about right now, but he’d know that in some other timeline he was loved, he’s gone and you’re missing him, a lot. You wanted to hope so at least.

Maybe it was just to get those feelings out that were burning your insides like acid. Even if it was the same story told by you every day. Maybe it was just your way to deal with losing him.

Well, whatever the reason was, you had no one you needed to explain yourself to.

Some days it was just maddening, being all alone in the Bunker. Sam had left a long time ago. He didn't forget Dean, but he definitely moved on. You stayed put, you couldn't take the needed step to move out or to try move on. All connections with Jody and Donna and even Claire slowly died off and there was no one left for you to go to other than the recorder now waiting for you to speak your mind. Perhaps that was just your fate. Who could change that?

“Hey, Dean, it’s me. Today is..” you sucked in a quick breath. “Today marks the full year that you’ve been gone now.” You continued quietly. November 19th. You couldn’t believe that it’s already been a year without him. “Each day getting closer to today, it has gotten harder for me to climb out of bed in the morning. Every morning when I awoke, I looked beside me in bed and you weren’t there. You haven't been there for a year and I miss you, Dean. I miss you so much.” You thought you had already shed all your tears, but no - they still kept pouring every morning, day and night.

“And I miss Sam, too. I know that I’ve probably said it a million times before, but…Well, Sam moved out of the Bunker not long after we gave you..” Following words scraped your throat like thorns. “..the burial. And I completely understand that. He didn’t want to stay here anymore. I can’t blame him. I couldn’t leave and now it’s just lonely here. He begged that I’d let him take Miracle with him. I know how much you loved that pup. I miss him, too. But believe it or not, Sam left me the Baby for now. I did tell him that this was your legacy, your father's legacy and he agreed that when the day comes, Baby would be left to his eldest.” You smiled through tears that were silently running down your cheeks, thinking of Sam someday having kids.

Something that Dean never got to enjoy for his own. Talking about everything over and over again eased you in some way. Even if it was for the day.

“I still have a hard time thinking about that night. Nightmares even. That was supposed to be your last hunt. We were almost out. And…And it was your last hunt.”

You and Dean did have dreams. Big dreams for your future without Chuck, monsters and hunting. You never told anyone, but you and Dean were very close to trying to start a family.

You definitely had hoped for a little Mini-Dean. Both of you were so excited, when you had all your late night pillow talks about family and kids, thinking about names even. He would've been an amazing father, you were absolutely certain of that.

“What am I supposed to do now?” Your voice broke. You figured that if it wasn't for you talking to this recorder on a daily basis, you'd probably go mute. You and Sam texted, very infrequently, once a month or so. He gave a promise to Dean, to look out for you, but it wasn't his fault that you were the one drawing back from him. Even with a text a month, you still felt like you were hanging over him like some shadow from his past, clawed to his back, keeping him from moving on. And you didn't want that, so you’d rather not speak at all.

“What am I supposed to do?” You repeated with a whisper. You still hunted sometimes, if you had the energy for that or if it happened to be close to you. But it was a rare sight. You did some odd jobs, just to have some money for food to keep you going. But you didn't need much. Meal a day was enough to sustain you after all the hard work of sitting at the library or sleeping.

Honestly you felt like you were fading away staying in the Bunker. But also there was nowhere for you to go.

“We were so close. So close, Dean, to get to our dream…and still…” You couldn't stop the tears that were now free falling. Memories of that night forced themselves into your consciousness.

A simple routine vampire hunt. You had to admit, you were a little bit nervous, but still, there were the three of you together, so you knew the chances of anything happening were slim. But there were more vamps than you all had expected and it turned out to be a struggle. You were all battling for your lives there. Everything happened so quickly. One second Dean was fighting with one of them, the next moment he was across the room, pinned against the post.

Sam quickly took care of the vamp who had attacked Dean, while you fought with one on your own. Sam came to help you out, and when you took a look around, you saw all the headless bodies laying around. Neither of you didn't even realize at first that Dean hadn't moved after the attack, not before he called out to you. “ Y/N, I- I can't..”

Sam reacted first and ran to him. “Hey! Hey, hey, don't move, Dean. We'll get help for you. It'll be okay.” Dean took a few quick breaths in. “No, Sammy. It's…I think it's pierced.. right through.” He looked at his stomach and your eyes followed, and you saw a tip of a metal spike coming through.

“Dean! No, no, no…please no! Sammy, help him!” You yelled hoarsely, while your hands traveled all over Dean's body, trying to find the best way to get him off there.

“No, Y/N, sweetie. No.” Dean remained calm when he looked at you. “You can't move me. I'm sorry. I don't think I have long left…” He spoke quietly, a few tears running down his cheeks. You stood in front of him, barely able to stay up as he brought up his hand to your cheek.

“I love both of you. So much.” His eyes shifted between you and Sam. “Please..Y/N, can I - can I talk with Sam for a second?” You nodded and shut your eyes tightly, fighting tears. “Of course, honey.” You let go of him and walked a little bit further to give them a moment.

You sat down on the ground and looked at the brothers, who were now saying their goodbyes to each other. This wasn't how the hunt was supposed to end. This wasn't how everything was supposed to end. It was too soon. Just a simple vampire hunt had turned so quickly into this nightmare.

With his last strength Dean was holding onto Sam's shirt. “You’ll have to look out for her, Sammy. For me. She'll need you out there..” You heard Dean say quietly. “And-” Dean's voice had started to quiver. “I love you so much, my baby brother. I-I need you to tell me…” he took a deep breath to steady his voice and looked Sam straight in the eyes. “I need you to tell me that it's okay. I need to hear that from you, Sammy.” Both of them had tears silently streaming down their faces. “I’ll look after her, Dean. I promise..” You knew how much it hurt for Sam to say the following. “And it's okay, Dean..It will be okay.” he tried to smile through his tears.

You saw how Dean looked at Sam. His baby brother, he’d taken care of almost all their lives. They've had all their fights over the years, differences on what's right or wrong, or how to save the world, but ultimately all that what was now left there, was love. The same, unconditional love that they've had for each other from day one.

Dean let go of Sam and looked at you on the ground. You knew what was coming and you were not ready for that. “Y/N, please..come here..” he was out of breath just a little. “Dean, no..” you were bawling and protesting against saying goodbye to him even though you still dragged yourself up and to him.

“I'll be outside for just a second.” Sam moved a few steps back, to give you two a moment alone. You held onto Dean's shirt, keeping yourself from collapsing. You were shaking all over your body from the shock. Even now, standing face to face with him, you couldn’t look Dean in the eyes. “Baby, please look at me.” You shook your head and sobbed loudly, fingers clinging tighter onto his shirt. “I can’t, Dean!”

Dean reached for your cheek, holding it softly and whispering. “I need you to…I need to see you..” You took a shuddering breath and finally gathered strength to look at him. You didn’t want to think of what’s going to happen tomorrow. All you could do for now, was to cherish the time you had with him. Even if it ends way too soon, you had to be happy with the time you had together. Not every hunter is as lucky as you and Dean were. You had to take everything from that moment that you had to say goodbye to Dean.

For a little while, both of you stared at each other without saying a word. In his eyes you saw acceptance of what’s to come. He had already made peace with his fate. Now there was only left for you to do the same.

“You are beautiful, Y/N.” he smiled weakly. “I’m sorry..for leaving you, but I know you..” He closed his eyes for a second to take a deep breath to keep going. “I know you’ll be alright, but baby, you have to stop hunting..please promise me, Y/N, that you’ll get out.”

“Dean, I can’t…not alone..”

“Yes, you can.” His hand faintly squeezed yours that was still locked in his shirt.

You moved closer to Dean to rest your forehead against his. “Well...I don’t want to.” you sniffled.

“You have to, sweetheart…Tell me..it’s okay..you have to tell me it’s okay..for me to go.” he spoke fast but the words were quietly fading on his lips. This was it.

You turned your head towards the door. “Sammy!” Turning back to Dean, you kissed him for the last time. “It’s okay, Dean, you can..you can let go..I love you.” Very faint smile appeared on Dean’s face as he saw Sam beside you again.

“No bringing me back this time, Sam.” He wheezed out. “We’ll see each other again soon enough.” You rested your head on his shoulder and felt his whole body slowly starting to relax. Dean leaned into you and with his final breath, he quietly whispered into your ear. “I love you, Y/N.”

From the corner of your eye you saw Sam break down on the floor. He sat there for a minute while you still held onto Dean. A moment later, Sam got up and pulled you into his strong embrace when you were still struggling to breathe. “We- we got work to do.” You sniffled and let go of Sam, sudden numbness taking over you.

You didn't know how long you were sitting there, thinking about his last moments. You had no idea what time it was. Day or night, it started to feel all the same to you.

Your brain had blocked out mostly everything after the goodbye. You knew you helped Sam with Dean and the pyre, but there were no emotions there. You were numb. Your moves were robotic. Both you and Sam stood by Dean as long as the fire was out. He wanted to get you away from that but you refused to leave. All you could think of while you were standing there, was that there was no one, nor will there be anyone you'll love more than Dean.

“I love you, Dean. I'll speak to you tomorrow.” You whispered your last goodbye for the day before you turned off the recorder. Every day has become the same to you. You knew that one day you'll see him again and that was all that kept you going. Knowing that Dean was still waiting for you was all you needed to move forward.

Taglist: @jackles010378 @cevansbaby-dove @alternativeprincess94 @deanwinchestersgirl87 @il0vebeingdelulu

#dean winchester #dean winchester angst #supernatural #dean x y/n #spn #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #jensen ackles #jackles #angst

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tgmsunmontue · 11 months ago

Text

It's all academic darlin' PART 8/10

PART 1 PART 2 PART 3 PART 4 PART 5 PART 6 PART 7

Part 7 and 8 are Explicit. And nothing else makes sense without the first six parts but you do you!

Chapter 8 is 8k, each previous chapter was about 2k on average. Yeah. I'm not going to apologise however if you're expecting a short chapter you might want to get a drink and snack first?

PART EIGHT

Jake snorts, god, he’s fallen for a giant dork. A hot dork. But still a dork. Who is changing into a different shirt which still, somehow, has fucking roosters on it. How many shirts with roosters on them did he own? How many shirts with roosters on them did one man need to own?

“You get your sense of humor from Mav don’t you?”

“Maybe. He’s probably going to want you to come to dinner you know?”

“Sunday? Family dinner?” Jake asks, because that was one of the emails he’d received just this afternoon. Bradley looks at him, eyebrow quirked and Jakes wants to kiss him again, has no reason not to so he just does, leans forward and gives him a quick kiss. He means for it to be quick anyway, Bradley kisses him back though, chases his mouth when he pulls back slightly and he savors it, the whole experience so novel after months of nothing.

“What, did he already invite you?”

“Yeah. He sent me an email about two hours ago. Didn’t reply yet.”

“Waiting for a better offer?”

He hadn’t been, had wanted confirmation first that Bradley was who Jake thought he was. And now… well. Yeah, he’ll do dinner with Mav any night of the week. But…

“Well, you did say you wanted to fuck with him…”

“Oh my god this is perfect. Let him know you can make it. Then tomorrow I’m going to let him know I’m bringing my boyfriend –”

“Boyfriend huh?” Jake asks, and he knows he’s grinning, cocky, but he feels like his blood has suddenly turned to ice.

“Yeah… boyfriend. That okay? I mean, I don’t want to assume anything, but I haven’t exactly been emailing anyone else on an almost daily basis.”

Jake sucks in a breath, reminds himself he has nothing to lose right now and maybe a lot to gain.

“I... don't know what to do here,” Jake admits and Bradley glances at him, frowns briefly before smirking at him.

“Pretty sure you've done this before.”

“Fuck you,” he shoves at Bradley’s shoulder. “No. Not sex. I’ve fucked around plenty. I – I don’t want to just fuck around though. And I’ve never… not fucked around.”

He’d mentioned it briefly in passing in an email, can see a look of comprehension cross Bradley’s face, then he’s stepping into Jake’s space again, one hand cupping Jake’s jaw and Jake swallows, throat tight with nerves.

“Well, you just got to keep on putting the effort in. Some days you'll get an A grade, and other days you'll scrape by with a bare pass...”

“I don't want to fail,” Jake says, voice barely above a whisper.

“I won't let you fail.”

Jake’s pretty sure no-one can make promises like that, even if it’s a nice sentiment. Makes him feel like he maybe won’t fail.

“Really?”

“Really. I'm a very good... educator. And I’ll have a vested interest in you passing. Group project…”

Jake huffs a laugh, shakes his head.

“Well, I guess it's good I'm a good student. And you do come very highly recommended on Rate my Professor…”

“Of course you looked me up…”

“I’m getting very good at research.”

… … …

Bradley takes them to a bathroom first where they can wash their hands, ignores Jake’s snarky comments about getting the premium tour of the mailroom, office and now the bathroom.

“Okay, seeing as you actually want this tour…”

“I’m actually interested. I haven’t studied in a while, but what you’re working on isn’t just purely theoretical to me. I can understand how it would be applied, which is pretty cool…”

“I’m glad you think so…”

He is glad, more than he thought he would be, that Jake seems genuinely interested. His first serious boyfriend had been in management, not at all interested in what Bradley was studying. His serious girlfriend had been a fellow engineer, smart as a tack, but her career had been more important than their relationship and Bradley had agreed with her, because he’d felt the same. Jake though… he can’t help but feel the little twist of hope uncurling in his gut.

He walks toward the labs, set apart from the other buildings with heavy duty walls and a lightweight roof. He points out the machines, explains what they do and greets the technicians and students still working. Reminds his students that they have to take breaks, that it’s Friday; they need to have at least one-day off, that he will be checking the security logs. Half of them roll their eyes at him. He introduces Jake as his boyfriend, gets a few surreptitious thumbs up which make him grin.

“Right, that’s the dime tour. All I can show you without firing up some of the machines myself and showing you some stuff. Which I’m happy to do, but uh, maybe another time?”

“You have somewhere to be?”

“Nope, just think I’d rather be sitting and talking with you over a drink instead of showing you where I work…”

“You love your work. I wanted to see it. You can show me more another time, a drink sounds good.”

“Did you drive?”

“Nope, hitched a ride, then caught a trolley.”

“So I have you at my mercy huh?”

“You sure do.”

The smiles they give each other are equally slow and he leans forward and captures Jake’s mouth with his own, lets his hands just come to rest naturally on Jake’s hips. Enjoys the sense of warm wet…

“You should take you own advice and go home Bradley… or are you coming climbing tonight?”

“Uh…” he pulls back from Jake to blink at Matthew, one of the technicians (and one of his climbing buddies) who is standing there smirking at him.

“That’s what I thought. Have a good weekend!”

“You too,” Bradley manages, ignoring the cackle that Matthew lets out as best he can. He turns back to Jake, wonders whether he should apologize for his friend’s behavior and realizes that Jake has probably experienced far worse friendly heckling from his own friends in the Navy.

“Okay. What do you want to do?”

“Mmm… what do we want to do. Right? A drink and some food would be good. But maybe some place quiet. And do you want to go climbing? Friday is your usual night right?”

“Uh, yeah… But, well –” He’d rather spend the time with Jake.

“You have a problem with me coming with you?”

“You want to go rock climbing?”

“I want to spend time with you and meet your friends. And it’s been a while since I went climbing.”

“Yeah. We can do that. Uh…”

“Yeah, I’ll need to borrow some clothes. Figured you be okay with that. I’m hoping you have something that I’m okay with, because to be honest, your shirt choices I’ve seen aren’t filling me with confidence.”

“I’ve got plenty of clothes. You’ll be fine.”

“I’m gonna withhold my judgement.”

“How do you feel about me cooking?”

“Well, you didn’t kill me last time…”

“I just thought… I have food waiting to be cooked at home. And drinks. And if we go there then we have more time before I would usually leave for climbing…”

“Sounds like a plan. Lead the way.”

… … …

He follows Bradley, feels a little flutter when he grabs his hand to just hold it as they walk and he’s never had that before, and to have it suddenly, grasping his hand and giving him a wide easy smile throws him back to the memory of Bradley in the cabin, his smile and laughter and he marvels that he might get to have this. As Bradley drives he sends a quick email to Mav, accepting the dinner invitation for Sunday and he wonders how Bradley’s going to break it to Mav that they’re… together.

“You didn’t mention to Mav that you’ve been emailing me almost daily?”

“Nope. None of his business.”

“Really?” Jake asks, because he’d kind of assumed Bradley would be the kind of person to tell his parents everything, but maybe he’s wrong about that. Clearly is, if Bradley thinks he can spring Jake being his boyfriend on Mav.

“Really. We talk about a lot of stuff, but I try and avoid the subject of relationships because he is overly invested. Especially since he retired and I didn’t know he’d left you with a breadcrumb trail, but I was suspicious enough to not want to bring it up…”

“Okay.”

“He’d drop it if I asked him. Seriously. But if he thought there was even a small inkling he’s like a dog with a bone, will just keep niggling at it and I’ve just found it’s easiest for me to just… not raise it. I’m just going to drop it on him on Sunday. Okay?”

“I’ll be there anyway, so I’ll just… follow your lead I guess.”

“Hmm. Yeah… fuck. Actually, just wait a second. I need to send a message.”

Jake shrugs, because it’s not like he has anywhere better to be. Bradley parks his car in the underground carpark and Jake watches other people entering the apartment building from their own cars, it’s clearly the end of the working week, all the civilians returning home after their nine to five jobs. He can’t imagine a life like that.

“Okay… message sent. Let’s go.”

They enter the elevator and Bradley holds it for a couple whom he clearly knows, making small talk about ending the week and the weather before he turns and introduces Jake.

“This is Jake, my boyfriend. Jake, this is Adam and Penny, they live down the hall from me.”

“Hey man, nice to meet you.”

“Ah, you too,” Jake manages, but then they’re at Bradley’s floor and the couple are heading in the opposite direction. “Any particular reason you’re introducing me as your boyfriend to everyone?”

“Desensitization. You can’t look surprised about me calling you my boyfriend when I introduce you to Mav.”

“And how are you going to introduce me exactly?”

“I’m still thinking about the best way… waiting for some backup.”

“Backup?”

“Mav’s… uh…” Bradley’s phone vibrates then and he grabs for it and Jake notices that the protective screen is scratched to hell and he’s pretty sure there is a crack in the case. “Oh thank fuck. Okay. Great.”

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah.”

There isn’t anything more forthcoming but he can tell that Bradley’s working through something and he looks around the apartment, takes in the floor to ceiling bookshelves, covered in plants and books and a lot of fucking rooster figurines, the odd goose and plane also in place. He wants to ask, knows they must have stories behind them. Turns back to find Bradley still staring at his phone, tapping a knuckle against his chin and he looks forward to finding out if that’s a habit he has.

“You’re phone isn’t broken, lost or in pieces… an improvement from last time I saw you.”

“Yeah, all accounted for at the moment, I’ve been taking better care of it. Anyway, I need to tell you something. Because as much as I want to pull one over on Mav, I don’t want you to think that I’d do that to you.”

Jake frowns, because Bradley is nervous, worried about something and Jake has no idea what it could possibly be. Then Bradley’s opening the fridge and offering him a bottle and he glances at it quickly, accepts and twists it open but doesn’t take a drink. Instead watches as Bradley pulls food out of the refrigerator and cupboards, lays out a knife and a chopping board and Jake wonders if he should offer to help or whether Bradley is further organizing his own thoughts as he organizes his working space.

“Okay…?”

“Okay. Right. So, I have two dads.”

“Yeah, Nick Bradshaw and –”

“No. Okay. Three dads then. Just… let me get this out. I was raised by Mav, and his… boyfriend. Partner. Except they were both in the Navy, so… not many people know who he is.” Jake keeps quiet, nods his head to show he’s listening. “As in, they know exactly who he is. But not many people know he’s with Mav. Or that Mav’s with him. He’s a pretty big deal. You know him.” Jake can understand now why this would make Bradley nervous.

“So, you want to meet my other dad? Before dinner on Sunday? Because Mav will think he’s hilarious, getting one over on you by not telling you by the way, if that makes you feel better about me pulling any shit with him… I just got permission to tell you, because it’s the biggest secret I keep. And it’s not even mine.”

Jake’s now feeling nervous, his mind running through all the different Admirals, because that’s what he’s getting from this. He’s learnt from not trusting his gut with Bradley and the photos that popped up the first time he searched his name. It’s going to be an Admiral that he knows. Holy shit. Simpson maybe? Bradley’s hands are flying, cutting and dicing without even paying attention.

“Just tell me who it is…” Jake says, because waiting isn’t going to make it any easier. Bradley glances up and takes his expression in and clearly assumes that Jake is bracing for the worst.

“Tom Kazansky. Admiral Kazansky. And I didn’t want that to come as a shock to you at dinner. Because he’ll be there. Mav seems to take weird pleasure in inviting people over for dinner, to meet his partner, and then just introduces him as Tom and of course everyone recognizes him…”

“You other dad is the COMPACFLT?” Jake asks, just in case there is somehow another Admiral Kazansky he isn’t aware of.

“Yes. That, uh, going to be a problem?”

It’s the first time that Bradley has sounded even a little unsure about whatever this relationship is or might be and Jake pulls himself together. He’d admitted his own worry about this whole relationship maybe being his first ever and Bradley had reassured him. He wants to be with Bradley, not the COMPACFLT. You can’t choose your family. That type of thing. Right. Holy shit.

“Uh. Fucking hell. It’s a bit of a shock but it doesn’t change anything at all. Uh. Does he know about… us?” Jake asks, because he assumes the COMPACFLT knows who Jake is, especially with the whole mission nearly two years ago. But Bradley hadn’t told Mav…

“Well, he does now. He won’t tell Mav. You know, Mav talks about you all the time. All the Dagger squad to be honest,” Bradley says, and his face scrunches up then, like he’s thinking about something unpleasant. He’s gorgeous and Jake can’t believe he’s been calling Jake his boyfriend for the last couple of hours. He can deal with the COMPACFLT if he gets to keep that. “You’re not… freaking out?”

“Nope,” Jake says, and he’s pretty sure he isn’t lying to himself. His mind is racing, because he saved Mav’s life. He’s just learnt that he saved the COMPACFLT’s partner’s life. That’s quite a lot to take in. He’s very glad he didn’t know at the time.

“Great, because he wants to have lunch with us tomorrow. Brunch probably.”

Blink.

“Oookay…”

This is not okay.

“It’s fine, he’ll bring food here and cook. He’s the one who taught me to cook actually, not Mav.”

“Huh. Yeah. That makes more sense…” Jake says, although the idea of Admiral Kazansky cooking anything has his brain shorting out. “Wait. You keeping me here until lunch tomorrow?”

“I kind of thought I was keeping you here all weekend…” Bradley replies and there’s a promise and challenge in his eye and Jake grins, leans forward and kisses him, shoving thoughts of casually having lunch with the COMPACFLT as far to the back of his mind as possible.

He can at least try and compartmentalize.

… … …

“So, you still want to go climbing?”

“Yeah, I’m probably going to skip the hike tomorrow, spend it in bed with this hot guy I just met…”

“You met me months ago,” Jake grumbles, but there’s no heat in it and Bradley grins, kicks at his feet under the table they’re sitting at while they eat the stir-fry that Bradley had quickly made.

“Actually yeah, I did. Want to explain why you were so… proper and polite? Because Mav asked what I thought of you and I said you were very polite and he just looked like I’d shaken the foundation of his world view. What was up?”

“Uh, excuse you, I am polite.”

“No. You can be polite. Some people are naturally polite, you’re polite when you choose to be. And you were choosing to be. With me. Why?”

“Didn’t want to piss Mav off… or be rude to you.”

“What, you thought Mav would think badly of you doing something a little… impolite? Mav? The man who only managed to stay in the Navy through the grace of his innate talent and Ice making sure they wouldn’t kick him out?”

“Huh, makes a lot more sense when you say it like that. But no… I just. I was recovering from a car crash. Noticed you, but figured I better not make a pass at Mav’s son.”

He can’t help but feel a little relieved that Jake hadn’t failed to notice him, but had instead been trying to be polite. It’s all sorts of sweet. He’s pretty sure not many people get to see these softer sides, but he equally likes the intelligence and sharp sense of humor; his snark as he makes fun of Bradley.

“And now?”

“Well, it’s a little more than a pass now ain’t it?”

“Definitely,” Bradley agrees, realizing that Jake respects Mav. Thinks highly enough of him to somehow, for some reason, think that Mav wouldn’t be happy for Jake to be with Bradley. Hopefully he’s been disabused of that notion at least.

“Come on, lets go through my clothes and find you something you can climb in. You can make fun of my dress sense.”

“Where’s the challenge in that though? You make it too easy for me…”

… … …

“You really like plants huh?” Jake asks, because there had been three book cases almost completely covered in the living room, making the softening evening light feel like he’s in a forest. There’s another shelf of plants in the bedroom.

“No. Well, I do like them. But as soon as I’m in charge of them they seem to die. I either neglect them or give them too much love.”

Jake’s not sure that’s true, because he can’t see a single dead plant amongst the lot, but maybe Bradley is a perfectionist when it comes to plants. He’s heard of weirder things. Fortunately, Bradley’s clothes aren’t a lost cause, the bright button-downs the only anomaly from what actually looks like a decent sense of style. He manages to borrow shorts and t-shirt, and even though he had high hopes for meeting Bradley he’s starting to realize he could have planned a bit better. Like bringing a change of clothes. Especially as he’s apparently staying the weekend.

“You mind making a detour to base so I can grab some things after we finish climbing?”

“Before okay? We might forget after…”

“Why would we forget?”

“Might be distracted…”

Jake smiles slowly, lets his hands smooth over Bradley’s chest and yeah…

“You’ve got a point. Before it is.”

… … …

They’re a little late to meet Bradley’s friends, they’re already climbing, half of them up the walls, others belaying. Jake has to get fitted for a harness and go through a safety induction, which he follows closely while Bradley wanders off to talk to his friends. Once he’s finished he wanders over, feeling a little awkward as a couple of them watch him approach.

“Hey everyone, this is Jake…”

“The boyfriend!”

“He actually exists!”

“How much is he paying you to answer to Jake?”

“I told you guys to be nice!”

“We’re being nice to him. You’re still free game.”

Jake laughs, pulls out his license and hands it over.

“He either found someone who is actually called Jake, or he’s actually legit been mooning over you for the last couple of months.”

“Fuck off Ryan, I have not been mooning over anyone!”

“He says that, and yet he was late to a few things because he had to send an email to you. And he was late again tonight.”

“Are we hassling Hei Hei about his recent phone addiction?”

“Yeah, he hasn’t lost his phone in months. He’s never been such a conscientious email answerer before either…”

“Well, not that I need to add fuel to this particular fire, but he was wearing a different shirt this afternoon than he was this morning so… make of that what you will,” one guy says, and Jake’s pretty sure it’s the same guy from outside the labs, the one who’d interrupted them kissing.

“You’re all awful. Jake, ignore them.”

“I think I like them, bring you down a peg or two. Can’t think you’re perfect…”

“I am far from perfect.”

“Really? Sure seems like it from where I’m standing…”

“Barf! Come on, some of us are here to climb rather than gossip!”

“Speak for yourself, gossip now saves me getting Bradley drunk later and asking him all the questions I want answers to…”

Bradley is tightening his harness and Jake has an impressive view of his thighs and ass, the straps highlighting the muscle. His fingers are nimbly working the rope and Jake watches, wants those fingers on his body and he can’t think about that right now. The harness doesn’t hide anything.

“You want to go first? I’ll get to enjoy the view…”

Jake laughs but hooks himself in, reaching for the first handhold. They climb for over an hour, switching out who belays and it’s easier than he thought it would be, just hanging out. Bradley and his friends call out encouragement for particularly challenging climbs, and it makes him realize that Bradley has his own squad.

“So I have to ask, the whole rooster thing… just, why?”

“He came back from Sweden and greeted everyone with Hej hej, which would have been fine, but then Moana came out and it kind of cemented the whole rooster thing. Isn’t it also a childhood nickname?”

“Can’t we save some embarrassing stories for a time that isn’t the first date?”

“Is it seriously your first date?”

“I said it was!”

“Man, I would not have all you fuckers at my first date.”

“We’re not counting the two nights at the cabin huh?” Jake says, tossing Bradley a wink and Bradley just rolls his eyes, shakes his head in gentle exasperation but the smile he gives Jake not even seconds later is playful. Fun. It’s the back-and-forth bantering that they’d developed in their months of email communication and he realizes it’s similar to what he has with Javy. Except he doesn’t want to ever have sex with Javy. He very much wants to have sex with Bradley. And also have… more emails, more dinners, more time with friends. All of this. It’s quite the revelation to have when he’s busy stripping the climbing harness from his body.

“I’ll see you guys next week!”

“What, no hike tomorrow?”

“Nope. I’m planning on staying in bed…”

That’s followed with some whistles and catcalls, Bradley just looks smug and wraps an arm around Jake’s waist, making him laugh with a wink. Yeah. He wants this.

“Nice for some!”

“Jealous!”

He waits for Bradley to throw his own climbing gear into the back of his car, waves back at a couple of the others who are leaving at the same time.

“I like your friends.”

“Thanks for putting up with them. I wish I could say they’ll stop being dicks, but if it isn’t one thing then it’s another.”

“Maybe you’re just easy to hassle?”

“Maybe…” Bradley concedes and he pulls Jake toward him so they’re leaning against his car.

“Come home with me?”

“We already went and picked up my bag.”

“Yeah, but it’s still a choice. I can take you back to base if you want.”

“No. Take me home.”

“Okay.”

He settles into the passenger seat and Bradley’s hand comes to rest on his thigh, a steady and warm weight and he places his own hand over it, runs his fingertips over the back of his hand, thinks about touching more of Bradley’s skin. The hand jobs earlier had definitely dealt with the immediate need, but the further kissing and casual touches while they were climbing have slowly and surely built the tension back up and it’s been simmering away under his skin, ready to boil over at the slightest provocation. His cock is definitely getting hard and they’ve still got a twenty minute drive.

“So there’s more than one reason why you have a rooster collection?”

“Really? You want to know?”

“Yeah, I really do…” Jake says, and he isn’t even lying, grips firmly at Bradley’s hand before returning to the gentle touch.

“My dad’s call sign was Goose. Except I had a lisp, or missing teeth, and apparently I walked around saying I wanted to be called Goose too, except it sounded a lot more like Rooster. So it switched between Little Goose and Rooster. I was just getting rid of it when that fucking movie came out and then pictures of that rooster were fucking everywhere. Inside toilet doors, on the roof of corridors, someone changed my staff photo… there was chalk art. I just had to lean into it.”

“Destined to be a rooster in every life huh?”

“Apparently. Some of my students have some wild theories.”

“I just bet they do…” Jake says, laughing.

They walk from the car to the apartment, tracing the same path they made earlier. This time though he has an overnight bag, packed with enough for a couple of nights, which can stretch longer if he can do washing. Or doesn’t wear clothes. He’s pretty sure Bradley is planning on a clothes-optional weekend inside his apartment and the idea of coming back from every deployment to this is heady.

… … …

He toes off his shoes, leaves them where they land, knowing full well it’ll annoy Ice tomorrow. Jake’s shoes are lined up tidily, but he’s dropping his bag on the sofa and Bradley watches him; he seems comfortable in Bradley’s space already and he likes that. A lot. He moves forward, doesn’t want there to be awkwardness between them.

“What do you want?”

“My choice huh?”

“Well, we have all weekend, and that’s just the beginning right?”

“Yeah. Yeah I guess it is,” Jake agrees and it’s like whatever tension he was holding in his shoulders is sapped away and he relaxes against Bradley, lets his hands go to Bradley’s hips and his top is damp with sweat and feels gross when pressed against his skin.

“So, what are we doing here? Now, tonight? I’m just happy to get my hands and mouth all over you…”

“Yeah, that sounds like a good place to start. See where it takes us.”

“Okay then. Maybe a shower, pretty sure you don’t want to taste stale sweat…”

“Don’t think I’d mind that much…” Jake states and oh, that’s a telling statement right there and Bradley feels another block of arousal slide into place on top of the steady foundation that’s been building all evening. There’s direction now and that direction is up. They strip and he throws all their clothes into the hamper, grabs extra towels and places one on each side of the bed for later. He’s already done his due diligence and stocked up on condoms and lube, again not assuming but hopeful.

They don’t talk while they wait for the water to warm up, lets Jake run his hands over him, eyes following his own fingers as he traces over beauty spots and scars. He lets himself do the same, Jake’s skin is smooth under his fingertips, his chest hair golden and fine, the nerves in his fingertips becoming more sensitive as he focusses more on the sensation beneath them. They lather soap and wash each other, kisses soft the whole time, hands running over hardening erections but not really making any concerted effort to make each other harder when they’re in no rush. He rinses his hair, licks up Jake’s neck when he tips his head back to rinse his own.

“Better?” Bradley asks, even though he was definitely the one who was originally more keen on showering. Not that Jake complained at any point.

“No stale sweat… can start workin’ on a fresh layer.”

Jake’s accent becomes thicker when he’s aroused and it sends prickles of want all over his skin. Bradley wonders what phone sex would be like, realizes they’ll likely get a chance to find out in the future with them doing long distance and he can’t believe he’s even thinking about that when they haven’t even talked about it. They’ve been together physically for a few hours and yet Bradley wants to shove everything he has and is toward Jake and just let him have it all.

He dries off haphazardly, not really caring because it’s not like he’s getting dressed into clothes. Jake beats him to the bedroom and he lies down on the bed, stretches his body out with his arms above, like he knows Bradley is enjoying the view. He straddles Jake’s thighs, runs his hands down his arms, lets his mouth leave a trail of kisses over a bicep. He moves over Jake’s body, wants to find what turns him on and what makes him shiver with need. He lines their cocks up and does a slow undulating grind, pressing down with what he hopes is just the right amount of pressure. Feels good to him, hopes it’s the same for Jake.

… … …

“Fuck you’re amazing…”

“Took the words right out of my mouth darlin’…” Jake says, letting his fingers dig into the muscle of Bradley’s thighs. He’s fucking gorgeous. He feels the full body jerk and he wonders what caused it, captures Bradley’s moan in his mouth. “You like me callin’ you that? Darlin’? Baby? Sugar plum?”

Bradley laughs then, shakes his head and pulls away.

“Not sugar plum, I’m not…”

“You’re plenty sweet…”

“Fuck Jake.”

“We’re getting there.”

It’s only because he apparently has all weekend, at least, that he’s willing to keep the pace slow. He’s enjoying having Bradley’s undivided hyper-focused attention on his body, apparently intent on finding all the little spots that turn him on. Not the obvious ones, like his cock and nipples, but the other patches, the skin that is tight across his pelvic bone, the inside of his thighs. Not that his cock is getting ignored exactly, Bradley comes back every few minutes and rolls his hips down in an exquisite grind that’s just shy of being hard enough, although the repetition is definitely winding him tighter and tighter and he’s over being passive.

“Turn abouts fair play… my turn to explore.”

… … …

Bradley grins, moves back and holds out a hand to pull Jake up, which he ignores and Bradley watches the shift of muscles under skin a Jake sits up. Bradley realizes he might have a thing for abs, he’s never had one before, but maybe it’s unique to Jake’s abs. He settles back, pulls Jake to lie on top of him before he can even start to get settled and he laughs at the annoyed look, lifts his head to press a hard kiss, grinds his hips up as well and he’s definitely hard now.

“Explore away, all the territory is yours…”

He snickers at Jake’s huff of amusement, he’s never not laughed with his partners in bed; obviously not every time, but he doesn’t like being with people who take sex too seriously. Jake seems like he’s a perfect match, giving Bradley’s body an equally thorough inspection, although he uses his tongue more, licking at him, his neck, collar bone, his nipple and he jerks at the sudden suction and groans. Been a long time since anyone’s played with his nipples.

“Oh… sensitive huh?”

“Yeah…” Bradley gasps as Jake does it again. His nipples are sensitive, one much more than the other for some reason. He knows he can come from being fingered and someone sucking on that nipple, his cock not needing any stimulation at all. He’ll let Jake find that out on his own.

… … …

They end up on their sides, facing each other, aligned so they can keep kissing and he’s pretty sure he’s going to have to learn what to do about beard burn with how over-sensitive his skin feels everywhere Bradley has kissed. It’s a weird sensation between wind and sun burn and if it looks half as bad as it feels anyone looking at him is going to know what he’s spent a good chunk of time doing. Bradley’s hand wraps around both of them, his fingers just that little bit longer. It’s tight and hot, and Jake isn’t sure if he’s going for a hand job or if he can thrust into the clasp of fingers. He desperately wants to thrust.

“This okay?”

“God yes, so okay… fuck.”

“Come on Jake, want to see you come…”

He covers Bradley’s hand with his own, holds it still, feels the squeeze of Bradley’s hand around his cock. He takes that as permission and starts thrusting, slow to start before increasing his pace. He’s aware that Bradley is watching, his own body taut and unmoving, though his breathing coming in shaky gasps tells Jake that he’s ratchetted as tight as Jake is. Bradley’s hand starts moving then, his hips jerking minutely and Jake isn’t sure he’d have noticed except for the way it adds a different level of friction on his own cock.

“Oh fuck…”

“Jake, fuck… come on… ugh.”

He feels Bradley come, hot wetness easing some of the friction very slightly. His own orgasm is slow and rolling when it hits, a reflection of how long they’ve spent building it up. It leaves him feeling shaky and unmoored and as if he knows how Jake is feeling Bradley kisses him, slow and thorough. He was already melting into post-orgasmic haze, the kiss just adding a layer of promise or care and fuck he wants this. He feels Bradley shift away briefly, then there’s a towel wiping between them. Jake is doubly glad for his forethought, his entire body feels too wrung out to consider moving anywhere and brain going offline fast and doesn’t want to clean up. Doesn’t want Bradley to leave his side.

“Imagine what we’ll be like when we’ve had practice,” Bradley says, kissing him softly and Jake hums his agreement. Lots and lots of practice. “Sleep well.”

He’s used to the constant noise of the carrier after the last seven months, but the quiet of the room and the afternoon and evenings activities have left him feeling sated, soporific and he soon falls asleep.

… … …

He wakes, room still dark and he doesn’t need to know the time to know it’s too fucking early to get up when he’s in bed with Bradley. He grumbles a little, pulls the sheet back up to cover them both, shuffles so he’s touching more of Bradley’s bare skin because neither of them bothered putting anything on. He feels him turn and then he’s being held, very firmly the little spoon with Bradley’s chest against his back.

“Morning. Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you.”

“I normally get up around this time anyway. You sleep okay?”

“Yeah. Little stiff now. Climbing and sex… Oh god. I’m getting old.”

“Ancient,” Bradley murmurs, lips brushing over the fine hairs behind Jake’s ear, making him shiver.

“You know, the best thing for stiff muscles is another workout…”

“What do you think I’m trying to do?”

“Try harder.”

Bradley does.

… … …

He can smell coffee, the bed is empty, but he can smell coffee. He might have a boyfriend for the first time in his life and he’s making coffee. He rolls over and searches for underwear before remembering Bradley chucking everything in a hamper. He opens a drawer and finds Bradley’s underwear straight away, one particular pair bright and with a fucking rooster on it, little speech bubble with ‘my favorite cock’ and he pulls them on with a grin before heading out to the kitchen with a quick stop in the bathroom.

“Good morning again…”

“It is a good morning isn’t it,” Bradley says, his smile bright as he gives Jake a soft kiss. He could definitely get used to this. “Nice underwear. How do you take your coffee? Or do you want something else?”

“Coffee. Black. Thanks… And thought you’d appreciate them.”

“Definitely look better on you…” Bradley says, another kiss and his heart-stomach-brain all feel like they’re on the same roller-coaster. “Be right back.”

He takes the mug and goes to more closely investigate the parts of the bookshelves not covered in plants. He recognizes some of the same texts from the cabin and now it makes more sense. As do the roosters and goose figurines. He’s not really paying attention to anything when he hears a quick three-tap knock on the front door and he freezes.

Surely it’s not that late.

Did Bradley mention a time that Admiral Kazansky was coming?

Quick glance at the clock confirms it’s after ten and Jake is standing in his underwear. Not even his underwear. Underwear that is very clearly not his in fact.

Fuck.

And now the door is opening. Jake can’t move.

He has a key?

Of course he spots Jake as soon as he enters, eyebrows raise in silence and then Admiral Kazansky is placing grocery bags on the kitchen bench before turning back to look at Jake again. He wonders if he needs to salute, but his hand is currently holding a coffee mug.

“Good morning sir.”

Jake is never going to master the same level of smile-smirk that is being directed his way, and the Admiral still doesn’t say anything, simply gestures at Jake’s state of undress and makes a shooing gesture toward the bedroom and he takes the direction for what it is and flees.

… … …

“Admiral Kazansky is in the kitchen.”

“Already? He’s early. Of course he’s early… Oh. You were out there like that huh?” Bradley asks, grinning. Jake is gorgeous fully dressed, standing there in nothing but underwear he’s breathtaking. The fact that it’s his underwear has him feeling even more smug.

“Yes Bradley, I was.”

“Don’t worry, he’ll just think it’s funny. Plus only way is up right?”

“Fuck off… I’m going to go and drown myself in the shower. Then I will somehow come back to life and get dressed because the COMPACFLT is apparently making me… brunch?”

“Yeah. Brunch. You know you’re adorable when you’re flustered.”

“Bradley!”

Jake’s also hot when he’s getting angry and Bradley can’t help it, steps forward and kisses him, hands cupping Jake’s face to hold him still, mindful that Jake’s still holding a hot mug of coffee. Jake takes a few seconds to kiss back, but he does and Bradley gives himself a mental high-five for distracting him. He doesn’t think it would have ended well if he’d told Jake he found him getting angry hot.

“Have a shower and get dressed. Don’t drown. I’ll go and start brunch with Ice. Also, I forgot to mention this, kind of forget because it’s just normal for us. Ice doesn’t talk very much. He had cancer and uses ASL to communicate or his little tablet thing with an app. One of the reasons we’re eating here really, he prefers it to going out in public.”

“Ice. You call the COMPACFLT Ice…”

“Sometimes I call him Pops to wind him up…”

“What? No. That’s what I call Mav to wind him up!”

“Really? That’s hilarious. No wonder Mav likes you so much. Now, I’m going out there because otherwise he’s going to think we’re having sex again.”

“Oh god…” Jake mumbles and it gives Bradley pause.

“Is it okay? I can ask him to leave if you want…”

“No. It’s fine. I just… would have preferred to have not been in my underwear. Your underwear.”

“Could have been worse.”

“How?”

“You could have been naked…”

Jake’s laughing then and Bradley kisses him again, carefully grabs his ass before gently pushing him in the direction of the bathroom before he heads back out to greet Ice.

“Morning,” Ice signs, his expression wholly amused and Bradley gives him the finger.

“Morning. Thanks for scarring Jake. I’m sure he’ll add that to his rotating nightmares.”

“Not my fault you lost track of time,” Ice signs, tapping his watch and grinning and Bradley shakes his head.

“You’re over half an hour early!”

“I’m always early!”

Bradley snorts, rolls his eyes then makes the signs for orgasm - always - early, raises his eyebrows to question and smirks.

“Should I feel bad for Mav?”

It’s rare to hear Ice laugh, the sound raw and scraping but he looks delighted, slaps Bradley on the arm, head shaking and he clearly concedes a point to Bradley in their ongoing sparring.

“Behave!” Ice signs, still laughing and Bradley grins, knocks his arm with his own.

Apparently they’re making waffles with a fruit salad and he’s surprised, because this is Ice’s favorite family breakfast meal, he doesn’t make it often, the buttermilk batter having to be made the night before, which means he’s either made and transported waffle batter by stealth across the city, or he taunted Mav with the knowledge that he wasn’t getting waffles. Both are equally probable and he’ll ask later. They work in easy silence, years of experience making them seamless in the kitchen, especially when Mav isn’t there getting underfoot trying to help.

Fruit salad all done, turkey bacon grilling under the broiler, last of the waffles now cooking they settle back, Ice taking a sip of his own coffee as he places the tablet he uses for communication on the table, the text to voice app already open. Bradley’s glad he’s not going to have to act as interpreter. Is pretty sure Ice wants to grill Jake a little, even if he’s only doing it for show. At least he can act as a buffer.

“Good morning again,” the electronic voice says from the tablet and Bradley turns to see Jake hanging back in the doorway to the hall. He makes a beckoning gesture with his hand.

“Jake, I’d like to introduce you to Tom Kazansky, one of my dads.”

“Nice to meet you Admiral Kazansky sir.”

“Nice to meet you in a less formal setting.”

“Uh, could we get less formal than this?”

“Probably not. Call me Tom.”

… … …

Apart from the fact that he knows Tom Kazansky is the COMPACFLT, he’s also Bradley’s other dad, and he wants to try and make a good impression, despite a part of him feeling like he’s already spectacularly fucked up by being nearly naked when he arrived. Bradley seems happy and relaxed, so he’ll follow his lead. They sit down to eat and it’s an impressive spread of food.

“Thank you, this looks great.”

“You can make me breakfast tomorrow,” Bradley says, giving him a wink and Jake wouldn’t normally blush, but of course under the scrutiny of the COMPACFLT his cheeks are flaming.

“I’d love to,” he says, ignoring the heat in his face and instead focuses on the grin Bradley gives him.

“I wanted to say thank you.”

“Uh… what for?” Jake asks, because he hopes he doesn’t expect an invite for breakfast tomorrow to reciprocate. They’re already doing dinner. The Admiral looks uncomfortable, lips pursed and giving a quick glance at Bradley.

“Oh, is this about the mission where Jake saved Mav’s life? Don’t worry, I already know about it.”

Bradley, who can apparently read Admiral Kazansky like a billboard sign and knows about a highly classified mission. Wow. He snaps his jaw shut, head automatically shaking, because he sure as hell never mentioned anything and he sure as fuck doesn’t want the COMPACFLT thinking he said anything.

“Of course you do,” the electronic voice says and Bradley shrugs, the expression on the Admiral’s face seems exasperated and Jake’s struggling to get his head around their half-silent way of communicating.

“You can blame Mav.”

Jake watches as Bradley makes a couple of signs, and he’s never learnt ASL although he figures he’s going to need to. But he’s pretty sure Bradley just signed blowjob and this morning is already feeling surreal in so many ways, but in none of them does it make sense that Bradley needs to use the word blowjob when talking to Admiral Kazansky.

“There are no secrets in this family,” the little voice declares, and the expression on Admiral Kazansky’s face is a little challenging, like he’s somehow daring Jake to cross the threshold and join said family. He reaches for his mug and does a little toast.

Challenge accepted.

… … …

“Actually, about that… Mav’s in the dark about us. I thought we could have some fun.”

“I have some ideas,” Ice signs, typing it in at the same time for Jake’s sake.

They sit and talk for a while, eating, and Jake slowly relaxes, although Bradley notes he doesn’t call Ice anything at all, and certainly not Tom. That’s fine, he’ll get there. He does make Ice chuckle silently a couple of times and it makes Bradley feel bubbly inside, that they’re getting on so well. They’re finished, and there’s a little left over for a snack later, and Bradley reaches for his phone.

“Okay, let me make this call…” Bradley says, putting his phone on speaker so Jake and Ice will be able to hear as well.

“Hey Mav…”

“Bradley! What are you up to?”

“Just having brunch actually, wanted to make sure dinner was still happening tomorrow night.”

“Tomorrow is Sunday, and we do dinner every Sunday… so yes, Bradley. Dinner is still happening. I’ve actually invited a few friends. People I want you to meet.”

“Really?” Bradley asks, raising his eyebrows at both Ice and Jake across the table. Ice is shaking his head.

“Yep, really think you’ll get on with one of them in particular…”

“Uh… this another set-up Mav?”

“Hmm. And if it is?”

“Well, might make it a bit awkward with me wanting to bring my boyfriend.”

“What. Since when? Why haven’t I heard about this?”

“Because you’re the biggest busybody and gossip I know? You usually ring them up to introduce yourself and in the process scare them away?”

“That was only one time! And I saw you on Sunday! And again on Tuesday! How have you got a boyfriend since then? It’s only been four days!”

“What can I say, when I know I know. We’ll bring dessert. How many people are going to be there?”

“Uh, just… eight if I count this mysterious boyfriend. Do I know him? What’s his name? Have I met him?”

“Eight? Wow. Was it going to be a like a speed dating situation?”

“No! I just… it’s us three and your plus one. And some of the Dagger Squad.”

That has Jake’s attention, his eyes wide as he looks between Bradley and Ice, expression clearly wanting Bradley to ask who.

“Let me guess, you’ve invited Jake. Who else?”

Mav sighs over the phone and Bradley has to bite his lip to stop himself from laughing.

“Coyote, Phoenix and Bob.”

Bradley looks to Jake and he knows those names are going to mean a hell of a lot more to him than they do to Bradley.

“Great, okay.”

“And your young man’s name?”

“You’ll find out tomorrow. Patience. Thanks Mav, I’ll bring enough brownie for eight.”

He quickly ends the call before Mav can get another word in and turns his phone off, not wanting the notifications. He knows all the people he cares about are safe so has no reason to have it on.

“Okay. Step one is done.”

Ice grins and Bradley grins back. Then Ice makes a shooing gesture toward the bedroom and Bradley rolls his eyes, throws back a yeah yeah gesture because it’s apparently grilling time. He doesn’t know why Ice expects him to leave the room, he’s totally going to listen in from around the corner. Of course Ice seems to be on to him, he can hear the chairs scraping back and the table being cleared. He has to strain to hear over the running water, fortunately the little electronic tablet is nice and clear.

“Thank you for making him happier. He is happy. Full life. Many friends. Loves his job. You can add to all of that.”

He can’t hear what Jake says in reply and he knows Ice must be typing out his reply, the words conveying meaning without being full sentences.

“There is no try.”

“Sure thing Yoda. You a secret Star Wars geek or something?”

“Not secret.”

Jake’s laugh is beautiful and Bradley grins to himself.

“Tell your friends. Serves Mav right.”

“Excuse me sir? You mean, I have your permission to tell Coyote, Phoenix and Bob who you are? And your relationship with Maverick?”

“Yes. Already gave to Mav. Now you too. Good for Mav be in dark for once.”

PART 9

#Hangster #Top Gun Maverick fanfiction #Sereshaw #rooster x hangman #It's all academic darlin'

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tauforged · 2 months ago

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time for a reef tank update !!! not the most glamorous shot but i’ve got a lot on my plate today so it’s what you’re getting lol

everything is going smoothly so far !!

finally set up the dosing pumps yesterday! current daily supplement regime is 1ml each of brightwell aquatics’ NanoCode A+B (staggered to prevent precipitation as they react with eachother), 1ml of brightwell KoralColor, and 5ml daily of a 1:1 mix of brightwell’s ZooPlanktos-M and PhytoChrom plankton suspensions, with the dose spread out equally over the entire 24hr period. ideally i would have done less, but this pump system has a minimum dose amount that i had to work around, and it’s all in such small increments that i doubt it will contribute too much to the bioload. these are the same supplement volumes i’ve been using before, but now dosed at a specific time each day and measured out by the pump rather than by me eyeballing with a grad cylinder ^^; going to see how alkalinity/calcium/magnesium levels shake out after a few days of the new setup and then modify from there. I’m also still manually dosing brightwell Restor (had to choose between this and the koralcolor as the dosing pump system only has four bottles, i’ve only got 2/3rds of my 250ml bottle of restor left as the koralcolor was a more recent purchase) and red sea reef energy AB+ (needs to be refrigerated, so wouldn’t work with the dosing pump), and i’ve got bottles of brightwell borochrom, liquid reef, and coralline accelerator that i bought back when i first started the tank up to cover all my bases but haven’t played with yet as i’ve been trying to take things slow on the dosing front. the borochrom i likely won’t be touching until i can find a boron testing kit that’s at least somewhat reliable before i do anything with it since it’s not something we have the capacity to test for in the lab at work.

corals are all overall looking good! the grinch porites has been looking a tad pale lately and might benefit from relocation, but i just did a water change yesterday so i’ll leave it be for now to see if that helps it perk up any… my other sps (rainbow pocillopora) is doing fantastic so i don’t think it’s water chemistry related, could be light/flow or nutrients. this frag gets covered in brown film algae despite my best efforts on a regular basis, so that probably isn’t helping -_-

the aiptasia on the pink bloomer zoa frag came back once again, so while i had the pump and heater shut off for the water change yesterday i blasted them with some aiptasia-x again. it was all gone by this morning, you can still see a little bit of white residue but i caught the shrimps picking at it last night ? so maybe they cleaned it up because i applied it very liberally. this frag has been thru the wringer and has had aips on it for the entire time, even after a really strong peroxide dip for GHA and physically scraping off all the anemones i could get to with a toothpick and blasting the remnants off with tap water in the sink immediately after, they just keep coming back… the good news is that the zoas are equally hardy. they seem mostly unbothered by the aips, but they were starting to get big enough to sting my purple death palys and that little baby disco mushroom so they had to go.

no pics, but i did finally lose that enchanted finger sinularia… it was never especially robust the entire time i’ve had it, but it never showed any signs of dying either. woke up a couple days ago to it gray and decaying, though, so i siphoned out everything i could get and the rest of the frag got chucked. bit of a shame, but i was honestly never a huge fan of it, mostly because of how sickly it always looked — i miss my toxic green capnella and the blue cespitularia that i lost during the major tank crash much much more :(

i’ve got another order in the works though — still in talks with ASD about the inverts, i’d tried to get some anemone shrimp as well but they had some issues so we’re waiting on them to get more livestock in. got my corals locked in in the meantime, though! aside from a handful of zoas still on my wishlist, this will probably be it for frags unless something major happens. or i finally snap and set up another tank. we’ll see…

#7g floating nano reef

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loreweaver-universe · 6 months ago

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Putting out a call: if you like my content at all, please consider pledging to my stream Patreon. I make my living from Patreon, it's my sole source of income, and between my blog and my streams, I make $700-800 a month. That pays for the room I rent and my bills, but I'm really just scraping by beyond that, even when I can get past my anxiety to blog a bunch in a month. A dollar per month, a dollar per stream, anything in between. It all helps me. (I get paid per stream I do, but you can set a monthly limit on how many streams your pledge will be for.) Hell, if I have any rich fans, pledge a bunch per stream, it really would change my life :P

I also have a slot open right now where you can pick a game for me to play once per month, on days of your choosing that are available (though be aware that people choose in the order they pledged). If you pick that tier, please contact me via Discord (I'm "loreweaver" on there) so we can discuss what game you'd like me to play and so I can contact you when it's time to make the upcoming month's schedule.

Also, please reblog this and spread this around! Every eye on this helps. Any amount people are willing to pledge helps. Thank you in advance to anyone who does--if it weren't for you guys, I'd still be a telemarketer or burger flipper and getting my soul sucked out on a daily basis.

Thank you again to anyone who took the time to read this.

#bloggin #inbetween #I could use the help #please boost

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shouldhavebeenpersephone · 1 year ago

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I Want You by Mitski is a Camilla Hect song.

This song is meant to be about one-sided romantic love or whatever, I don't care I don't care I don't care. Cam and Pal are platonic soulmates/codependent idiots and this is about them actually.

Hear me out.

Throughout NtN we see Cam repeatedly wanting Palamedes there. When Nona accidentally hears their recorded conversations, she expresses that she does not care if she gets hurt - she wants Palamedes to exist still. ("I've carried you, Warden. And I've carried your memory... I'd rather carry you")

[verse 1]

I want you

I hold one card

That I can't use

But I want you

Palamedes still existing is also a huge advantage they have that the BOE is unaware of. Pal being in Camilla's body especially helps, because he is less likely to be hurt by Varun and can basically peek out whenever needed - except he can't. The one time Pal and Cam join forces, Camilla goes into thanergy shock. He is of no real use to them except sentimental, he is eating at her from within and yet she still carries him. Additionally we get a double meaning here; Camilla is forced to appear mournful and not show her cards to hide Palamedes and keep him safe.

Flashback time to post-GtN! The image of Camilla walking into the room Palamedes exploded in haunts me on a daily basis. This verse can be taken both literally and figuratively.

[verse 2]

I found you

I found the door

But when I stepped through

There was no floor

Literally: Canaan House was old as shit. Palamedes blowing the floor out along with himself is much more likely than the room remaining unharmed. Yet she risked her life, scaled a half sunken-in room, probably had to scrape Palamedes' remains off the walls, and she reassembled him. No matter how ready she could have been, nobody can be ready for something like that.

Figuratively is what I find a bit more appealing though. In the short story Tamsyn wrote about the Sixth as young teens, it's so painfully evident that these two do not know how to exist apart from each other. Super unhealthy I wish it were me. For example, Camilla has a lot of things figured out, but she relies on Palamedes to piece it together. Palamedes knows how to work a puzzle, but he relies on Camilla to be his eyes and ears. Camilla notes that he enjoys 'teaching' her, but to me it came across more like neurodivergent "same hat" behaviour - he knows that Camilla is thinking the same thing. They know each other so well, that when something is obvious to him, he doesn't even need to consider Camilla might have to be told what he is thinking - she might, however, have input he hadn't yet considered. When Camilla finds him and sees that he was successful (and thus that he is gone), her foundation she has had for most of her life is gone. They were each other's flesh. Each other's end. Without him, there is nothing, no future, no ground to stand on.

And then they find Ianthe Naberius and grabbing his opportunity Palamedes is back - sort of. He is back, and she is dying, and they can act together again, and she is so relieved, and she is so tired. It is the end of the world. They are going to open the Tomb and whatever is in there will be the Emperor's death, and he is the world.

[pre-chorus]

You're coming back

And it's the end of the world

We're starting over

And I love you, darling

And I am done, dear

But also - it is the end of Palamedes, the end of her world. They have thought this through, they know what they are attempting, they know what it will take, they know they will not make it out. But the key here is that neither of them will make it out. They are ending, and they are ending together, and they are starting over, and Paul is born from the ashes. There is also something special, to me, about the comparison between And I love you, darling/And I am done, dear and Life is too short and love is too long. Camilla is very actively dying. Palamedes is ready to gamble with his own life the moment he knows there is no other way out for Camilla. And they love each other. And they are done. And it's that life-outlasting love that creates Paul.

And here, we are taken back again. I see the house as Camilla's inner world, and the car as her outer world (think DID, when alters are not fronting, they recede to an inner world which for many people is some sort of house I believe). Camilla is in the driver's seat, and Palamedes is inside, and he is so close, yet she cannot just go in and meet him. I wonder if they dreamt together. I wonder if they could see each other at all while Camilla too was in her own subconscious. I wonder I wonder I wonder, and I cannot help but think they could not.

[chorus]

You're in the house

And I am here in the car

I just need a quiet place

Where I can scream

How I love you

And then I remember the chapter where Nona kisses her knuckle for the first time. When Camilla sits in the dark bathroom, curled up in the bathtub - for hours. I wonder if she ever came back with her own hand cradling her face. I wonder if she ever cherished the ache of her wrist because Palamedes is left-handed and she is not. I wonder if she ever woke up to the print of Palamedes in her frame on the mattress.

#sorry to ramble but I am so unwell about this #in this house its camilla hect hours 24/7 #gideon the ninth spoilers #harrow the ninth spoilers #nona the ninth spoilers #the locked tomb spoilers #tlt spoilers #the locked tomb #tlt #camilla hect #palamedes sextus #mitski #Ash does TLT

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zappedbyzabka · 2 years ago

Note

Mafia AU: Sid tells Johnny to dress nice. He's sweating bullets and says that some big financiers are coming over. Johnny isn't stupid and Sid isn't subtle, muttering about his kneecaps and having his fingers chopped off while he yanks Johnny's tie closed.

Johnny's heart drops when he sees that it's the little squirt who kicked his ass with surprising speed over Ali's radio. He's with his mother, an effusive Italian woman, and his stepfather, a reserved and elderly Japanese man. They both beam with love and pride when they have their arms around him. Johnny wishes he had that, but Sid barely acknowledges him and Laura flutters her hands nervously.

So the shrimp has a Cosa Nostra mother and a Yakuza stepfather, both of who love him. Johnny has a stepfather who owes them money.

Miyagi says, pointedly, that Sid's house is very grand, that he seems prosperous. Mrs. LaRusso-Miyagi asks if the boys know each other.

Johnny looks at Daniel, who says sunnily that they met on the beach. Johnny's jaw still hurts, and he can remember the feeling of the sand scraping his face when he went down, the hushed awe of the Cobras. His face burns with humiliation all over again.

Laura says blandly that it's nice they're friends. Daniel and his mom both look puzzled. Johnny never told her he'd gotten his ass kicked by some strange kid. He doesn't tell her stuff like that anymore. His face burns even redder. He can see the woman's expression collapse into pity, but LaRusso just looks contemplative. Like he's figuring out how to ruin Johnny's life at school or something.

Dinner is Sid talking fast and loud about profit margins and Daniel staring at Johnny like a fucking weirdo. Laura and Johnny pick at their food. Every so often, Daniel or his mom will lean over to whisper into Miyagi's ear. Sid tells Johnny to take Daniel up to his room and "play videogames or whatever" after dessert.

Johnny leads Daniel to his room and sits on his bed awkwardly. Daniel actually sits beside him and asks him how his jaw is feeling, where he'd struck the final blow that dumped Johnny onto the sand. Johnny thinks about how Daniel could probably have him killed, and says that it's not the worst he's ever gotten. Daniel just nods, then asks him if he gets along with Sid. Johnny takes the chance to unload, then asks him how he gets along with Miyagi.

Daniel explains that his mom got pregnant and the guy ran off suddenly, and Miyagi stepped up and married her rather than having her family send her somewhere. Miyagi's the only father he's ever known, and he's utterly devoted to Daniel and Lucille.

When Sid calls Johnny downstairs and tells him that he's going with Miyagi, Johnny doesn't even fight it. Daniel could kick his ass. Miyagi could have him killed. Could have his mom killed. Why fight it? What does he have to gain?

It's not until Miyagi starts talking to Daniel about "your new pet-boy" in the car that Johnny really understands what's going on.

His first thought is that the Cobras can't find out, no matter what.

🫠🫠🫠 Daniel knew Johnny was going to be his the night they met—obsessed the moment he saw Johnny’s blue eyes all wide in shock after Daniel hit him—after Daniel put him in his place. He wanted to wipe the blood off Johnny’s nose and tell him he’s sorry that he had to hit his pretty face, but Johnny apparently hadn’t learned his lesson because he hit Daniel again and drove off with his boyfriends, or whoever they were—they’re irrelevant to Daniel. He went home that night and gave his dad all the info he knew about the boy on the beach so they could plan how to make him Daniel’s.

He got more of an idea of what Johnny needs when they talked in his bedroom; he looked so defeated as he talked about all the terrible things Sid would say to him on a daily basis and how it feels like his mom doesn’t care about him anymore since she doesn’t do anything about how Sid treats him besides sometimes half-heartedly asking him to be nicer. He was all hunched in on himself and refusing to make eye contact as he confessed all of it, and it broke Daniel's heart; his boy just needs /love/, needs to be praised and fucked until his mind is blank and all those awful things he thinks about himself are gone, not disciplined like Daniel thought at first. Oh, and Daniel’s definitely going to have Sid killed.

He pulls Johnny close when he starts quietly sobbing in the car and soothingly cards his fingers through Johnny’s golden hair, only pulling away to gently cup Johnny’s face in his hands and kiss away his tears, not stopping until Johnny relaxes against him, and Daniel luckily only receives a short warning from Lucille that he needs to control himself until he's at least in his own room.

"Don’t cry, honey, we’re not going to hurt you. I won’t let you ever be hurt again," he tells Johnny sincerely, smiling warmly—then his expression turns dark. "I’ll kill anyone who lays a finger on you with my bare hands if I have to."

Johnny looks back down at Daniel's lips like he wants to be kissed again.

#I can’t put a cut because I figured out that’s why all my long posts were getting ruined #also because Im cobras x Johnny trash #The cobras notice the change as soon as he comes to school #It’s hard not to when Johnny comes to school with that guy from the beach #his possesive arm around Johnny’s waist #until Johnny notices the cobras and rips Daniel’s arm off of him like he was burned #and it’s Bobby who’s all over Johnny and interrogating him about why that /asshat/ had his hands all over him #all the cobras looking at Johnny expectantly when he goes silent #they’re all upset about Johnny hanging out with another guy for reasons they aren’t ready to look into #but his eyes are focused on Daniel who’s watching them from afar #Thankfully for Daniel #Johnny can’t hear all his thoughts about cutting Bobby’s hands off for touching his property #Daniel smiles at Bobby politely when they make eye contact.#lawrusso #safety first #tw violent thoughts #dark daniel #tw childhood abuse

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beerecordings · 2 years ago

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Wolf Bite - Part 23

Chase stares at the black eye of his camera, and his camera stares back.

He didn't know why he was coming into his recording room as he felt his feet bring him this way, and he doesn't know why he's sitting here now. His computers and monitors are all shut down, asleep in the darkness of the room, since he hasn't booted up any of the nice lighting he had arranged around his space. The floor is littered with snack wrappers and a couple shirts, tearing off one to change to another just to record a new video and pretend he hadn't cranked them all out in the same overwhelming day.

It's a familiar space, and the feelings of dread and shame it brings are familiar too. He remembers Stacy so exasperated every time she would find him hiding in here, and he remembers hours of scrolling through dizzying feedback. The sensation of tens of thousands of eyes all watching him doesn't fade, even with everything shut down.

And now the eye of the camera reminds him of Iris, too.

"What the fuck am I doing in here?" he whispers to himself.

But he doesn't leave.

It takes him several minutes to realize he's here because he wants to film a video.

That's not familiar. It's been a long, long time since he had any want to film anything, even back when he was still creating on a daily basis.

He boots up his computer uncertainly. He doesn't think he'll actually do anything, but he can at least push the button, adjust the camera, examine his own reflection. He thinks this one scrape down the side of his cheek will scar, but it looks kind of bad-ass, so he doesn't mind.

The camera hums a little as it wakes up. He stares at the image it's sending.

"Hi, everybody," he says, just practicing. "I know I've been gone a while. I just wanted to film a video to say - because I have - I have an announcement. An update? Because things have changed with me."

A lot of things.

"What the fuck, Chase," he sighs to himself, embarrassed even with no one watching. He turns the camera off quickly and the computer follows. Everything goes quiet again.

"I'm just making a video because I wanted you all to know something about me," he whispers to himself. "A lot of things have changed in my life. The biggest thing recently is that I was... bit. Yeah, that kind of 'bit.' I'm a werewolf."

He can imagine the responses already. They kind of scare him, but... he just wonders if he would have felt better with everything that happened if he knew he wasn't alone in it. If he had some friendly face on the internet telling him that this is going to be okay, and that there are good things to all this, really. But maybe he's just making a martyr of himself. Maybe nobody cares, and talking about it will just make more people horrified of werewolves, and what little enjoyment he had in his career will finally be snuffed out for good.

It's been a year and two months since he uploaded a video, anyway, and the rumors of his wife leaving him and his drinking getting out of hand had all burst up like geysers he was trying to hold down with his bare hands, flooding his reputation. Nobody's listening anymore.

A knock on the door interrupts his brooding and he gets up, finding Marvin at the door. Just the smell of him is a relief.

"Oh, what's that smile for?" asks Marvin, reaching out to tug petulantly at one of Chase's stray hairs. "I haven't even told you the good news yet."

"Happy to see you, I guess," Chase admits. "It's too lonely in that room. What's the good news?"

"Someone who wants to see you," he says. Marvin's arm wraps around Chase's shoulders. "Come on. Let's go see our pack."

Henrik expects Chase to come through the door first.

Chase feels safe, in his memory. Chase feels familiar. This whole house feels familiar, but it's no longer just their safe space. It's the place that they were taken from.

Does Chase feel the same way? Is it cruel that he wants to know he's nervous too?

The door clicks and Henrik sits up. But instead of Chase coming through the door, it's Jackie.

Oh.

He smells like an Alpha in a way he didn't before. Powerful. Enticing. Dangerous.

Henrik pushes himself away til his back's against the headboard of the bed. Jackie tilts his head at him, resting easily against the frame of the open door.

"I'm just here to talk," says Jackie. His voice is as loud as ever and Henrik jumps. Jackie grins half-heartedly. "Schneep... I'm not going to hurt you."

Henrik seems to have lost his voice. He swallows and shakes his head, pulling a blanket up over his lap. He can still smell a little of his own blood in the carpet from where JJ had bit him and dragged him back to another Alpha. Then again, he can smell chemicals and soap too: someone has tried to scrub the blood out of the carpet, preparing the room for him to come back.

"Can I come closer to you?" asks Jackie.

"Whatever," manages Henrik, though his voice comes out in a croak. "Sure."

Jackie comes to sit on the side of the bed, still looking at Henrik intently. Henrik can't hold his gaze long. He breaks away, turning to look out the window instead, breath skipping in his chest.

"So this is it, then?" Henrik says. "You just - you're just my Alpha now?"

Jackie pauses. "Do I smell like your Alpha to you?"

"Yes. I think. I don't know. I'm not hers."

"I know."

"I'm not," Henrik repeats. "I'm not hers."

"You're not."

"But I don't know if I want to be yours, either," Henrik whispers.

He waits for Jackie to lunge at him, but he just hums and kicks his feet, nodding at him. "We're kind of in a pickle, in that sense."

Henrik laughs weakly despite himself. "Because... because you saved me. And now you feel like my Alpha to me."

"And you feel like pack to me," Jackie replies.

"Really?" asks Henrik in a whisper.

Jackie nods. "Uh-huh. We're bonded. Schneep... I'd never make you stay, not in a million years. I'd let you go the moment you asked. But I want you to hear me out before you go tearing something inside you in half just because she made you scared to be anybody's pack."

"Because it will hurt to leave," Henrik says. "That's what you're going to tell me."

"The choice to leave is yours completely. I won't say a word about it if you go. It'll hurt, but the pain will be your choice, and I'll wish you the best in finding a pack in Germany."

"What, then?"

Jackie straightens, squaring his shoulders. "Just this," he begins. "I don't want any control over you; I need some deference but never submission. I will never put my teeth in you unless we're playing, I will never use force to get what I want from you, and you are free to go at any time. Henrik, all I want is to look after my pack, and you're part of that. You're free to go. You're always free to go. But if you stay -- "

Now it's Jackie's breath that hitches. Henrik watches as Jackie steadies himself, readjusting on the bed, turning towards him.

Then his hand reaches out gently. Henrik flinches. Jackie just scoots closer, and then -

He sets his hand on Henrik's throat, gently. He doesn't squeeze. He doesn't grip. Henrik is frozen stock-still, trembling for a moment, waiting for the pain and the panic to come - but Jackie just holds still.

Slowly, Henrik relaxes.

He remembers the moment when Jackie touched his neck after moving his stuff out of his apartment. It was like this: something that should have been scary and alarming and unusual, but instead, it just feels like protection. Natural and secure.

"I'm going to squeeze a little," says Jackie.

When Henrik doesn't move, he presses his fingers around his throat. Still gentle. Henrik can breathe. The same way that nudity has stopped feeling sexual, this doesn't feel sexual either. They're in human forms, but they're speaking to each other's wolves, making promises he can feel rather than hear: I'm never going to hurt you. You're safe even with my claws around your throat. Even at your most vulnerable, you're safe with me.

Jackie's hand falls away.

"I'll look after you for the rest of your life if you'll allow me," Jackie says. "That's all I want you to know."

Henrik nods, more firmly than before. He thinks that's true. It feels true. It's unbelievable, that Jackie wants him at all - doesn't he know anything about him? About how neurotic he is, how reclusive, how unreachable? - but at the same time, it's true.

It's only then that Henrik senses the other scent in the room, and he looks up sharply. His nose points him to the doorway, and although there's no one in view, he knows he's there.

"Chase," he says, exasperated and fond at the same time. "Are you spying?"

A blue eye and a mess of brown hair appears beside the door. Chase clears his throat awkwardly. "Didn't want to interrupt."

"Come here," says Jackie. "Dork."

Chase's scent flares with relief and he hurries forward, standing beside the bed. Henrik only has to shift in his direction for Chase to read it as an invitation: he lets out a low rumble like a contented Labrador and throws himself over him, wrapping his arms around him and rubbing their heads firmly together. Henrik laughs, louder than he expects, and wraps his arms around him too. Chase's nose presses closer to his neck and Henrik tenses for a second - but again, no bite comes, and Chase's smell is untainted by either fury or despair, the scents that accompany a bite to the throat.

Henrik decides to test his own waters. He sits up and Chase comes with him, expression open and hopeful. Henrik raises his hand and touches Chase's neck, settling his palm around the front of it, almost cupping his chin.

Chase just closes his eyes and lets him. It feels secure to him too, Henrik realizes. It's not just him and Jackie. They all feel like pack.

Jackie rises from the side of the bed, moving to follow the scent of Marvin in the hallway. "Think about what I said," he tells Henrik softly. "Let me know when you've decided."

"What are you two deciding?" asks Chase, the moment Jackie's gone. "Are you okay? It's so good to see you, you don't know how... how scared I was. Truly. Fuck, I'm glad you're here."

Henrik looks at him, pushing a strand of his hair from his eyes. "We were talking about whether I'll stay or go."

"Don't," says Chase.

From the way his scent twists, Henrik can tell they're both surprised by the loudness of his voice, firm as pumice. There's a moment where Chase looks like he might back down, apologize and change the subject, but he doesn't.

"Don't go," says Chase. "You have to stay, Schneep, you have to. We're pack now. Don't go. Stay here with me. With all of us. I'll look after you too. I know you have healing to do, but so do I. It won't always be easy, but it'll be easier together. We'll all take care of each other. You don't have to be so alone anymore. You don't have to leave. Stay."

And when Chase reaches out to touch him - when his hand settles on his cheek and he looks at him with his face full of freckles and a scent like chocolate and pack - that feels true too.

"Okay," whispers Henrik, in the place where their scents meet and everything smells like home. "Okay. I'll stay."

It's not the harness that JJ minds.

Sean is good to him, after all, and if JJ didn't want to wear a harness like a pet, he could shift back to human anytime. Sean would be able to certify that he isn't feral, and he could walk out of the apartment as a man, and no one would try to put this thing on him: a neon orange harness and leash with the words 'UNDER REHABILITATION - DO NOT ENGAGE - UNCERTIFIED LYCAN' repeating across its length.

"Sorry, pal, sorry," whispers Sean, looping it carefully around him. "I can't have you out of the apartment without this on. I know, I know."

Sean soothes at him, but JJ's just sitting still, letting him hook it on. Sean won't use it to humiliate him, and if it feels tight, it's nothing compared to real confinement.

He does mind, however, the reactions from the humans around them.

They always take quiet pathways when they go to the park, but today, Sean takes him somewhere new. As they're forced down a street with people bustling around, the throng parts around them in a disgusted wave of movement. Sean keeps his eyes straight forward, leading JJ close at his side, but Jameson knows he can hear it too: the angry rumbles of the people around them.

"Back up, do not let that thing near you."

"... no reason for him to be in the city..."

"Why do we have parks if they're still going to be out in the open like this?"

One werewolf calls encouragement as he passes, but for the most part, JJ can only hear discontent.

"We're only a few minutes away from Chase's," Sean leans down to tell him.

JJ can't tell if Sean actually believes he can understand him, or if it's just his habit to talk to wolves, feral or not, like they're human, but one way or another, he appreciates it. He doesn't feel human in the middle of all this, that's for damn sure.

A mother stops them, cradling her child away from them, and yells at Sean about how it's inappropriate for him to be out here with a feral animal. JJ sits at his side as Sean listens quietly, something twisting in his stomach. No, he doesn't mind the harness, but this...

Don't they know he didn't ask to be like this?

"Ma'am, I'm a rehabilitator, I'm just moving him from one place to another. I wouldn't bring him out in public if he weren't safe to be around. Look, he's perfectly friendly."

Sean reaches to the side and touches JJ's mouth. He parts his jaws and Sean sets his fingers down between his teeth for a moment, tapping at his canines. JJ looks up at him and the mother with big eyes, tongue swiping once at his rehabilitator's hand.

She just keeps arguing with Sean. When someone else comes to her aid, a man much larger than Sean, they turn away and keep walking. JJ's ears are down flat. Jack reaches out to pat them, giving him a fragile smile.

That's when a rock collides fully with the side of his head. Sean gasps, faltering for a second, and JJ leaps up, whirling to find the person who threw it, but he can't pick them out from the crowd. On instinct, he tries to howl - nothing comes out and he feels stupid, useless, inhuman.

"I'm okay, I'm okay," chokes Sean, pulling him hurriedly away. "Come on, let's get out of here."

They push out of the busy part of the city together, JJ pulling him along now, claws scrabbling against the pavement, so hot it's starting to hurt his paws. They come to a residential neighborhood with nice houses and Sean leans against a tree for a second, catching his breath, putting his hand up to his face.

There's a small brown bruise beside his eye. He gets out an inhaler and takes his medicine, rubbing at his head wearily. It's not a bad injury by any means. For throwing rocks, it could be a lot worse.

JJ doesn't feel any better. Someone did that to him just for walking around with a wolf in an orange harness at his side?

He has always had trouble communicating with everyone else around him. Being talked over, being yelled at, being ignored. Weren't things hard enough before this already? Now he's not even human. Is this how he's going to be treated for the rest of his life? They all think he's a monster, and no one's listening to anyone trying to tell them otherwise.

"Hey, I'm okay, I'm okay," Sean is trying to tell him, kneeling down in the grass beside him to grab his face. JJ pulls away from him, tail between his legs and ears flat. He didn't ask for this, for any of it.

"JJ, calm down."

He'll stay like this forever, he's decided. All he ever gets is rejection. What's the point of shifting back into a human? The only person who ever really listened to him betrayed and imprisoned him. He may as well look like an outsider. Like a monster.

Sean's arms pull at him again, wrapping around him and petting down his side, shushing him. JJ whines out a breath of air and hides his head against his chest, licking his paws. Sean pulls his paw away from himself.

"Don't do that to yourself," he murmurs. "You're grooming your fur out. I'm totally okay, JJ. I'm right here."

He hugs him again, squeezing him close.

Yeah. He'll just stay with Sean for the rest of forever. Who needs to be human anyway?

"Poor thing," whispers Sean, stroking his fur. His face presses into JJ's pelt, and for a moment, he thinks he feels wetness there, dripping onto his side. "It's going to be okay, JJ. It's going to turn out somehow. I don't know how, but it will. It has to."

JJ knows he must smell like despair.

#ableism tw #most werewolf discrimination but JJ sees it intersecting with his disability #anyway just one or two more chapters!!!#werewolf au

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letsbenditlikebennett · 1 year ago

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TIMING: Beginning of September PARTIES: @kadavernagh & @letsbenditlikebennett SUMMARY: When Regan finds out that Alex was shot and refuses to go to a hospital, the medical examiner finally, and after much exasperation, tells her to come by the morgue to get her wound checked out. CONTENT: Self harm

The whole way over to the morgue, Alex reasoned with herself that this was a better call than going to a hospital. She was pretty sure that hospitals had to report gunshot wounds and the new additions would likely raise more questions than she truly wanted to answer. She’d toyed around with the idea of not going to the morgue at all, but after the full moon hit, that wasn’t really an option unless she wanted to tell Kaden she’d all but beat herself up in the bunker and opened her own stitches.

Of course, it wasn’t quite that simple. The restless energy that had coursed through the werewolf the previous night was There had been no sitting still after she’d gone through all of her prey and was left with a suffocating, empty bunker. Somehow that energy manifested in the form of an itch she couldn’t quite scratch and an inability to sit still. The scrapes, scratches, and bruises that painted her limbs had been evidence last night’s full moon had been anything but normal. She wasn’t sure what Dr. Kavanagh would make of it, but what was important was that Kaden was none the wiser. Alex knew her cousin would find a way to blame himself for it somehow.

The morgue had that clean chemical smell to it as she made her way toward Regan’s office. Even the chill in the air felt pretty standard for what the facility was meant for. Alex didn’t think keeping dead bodies in a hot building would be fun for anyone involved. Something about the death made her a little uneasy considering the role it had been playing in her life lately, but this was a doctor’s visit… which somehow was not any better. She waved uncertainly toward the receptionist. “I’m here to see a Dr. Kavanagh?”

The call from Marcy was expected though not entirely welcome. “There’s a young lady here to see you. She limped in. I’m pretty sure she’s not dead yet, so I don’t know why she’s asking for you. You ever going to explain that to me? While you’re at it, if you’re seeing live patients, can you check out a mole on my shoulder?” Regan shuffled through the list of possibilities in her head and landed on precisely who this must have been. Kaden’s child cousin. Alex. Possibly with a bullet in her body. The thought was a wave of ice and reminded her to steel herself. She had seen far worse in the living and especially in the dead, and her equanimity could not waver.

In the lobby, there was once again only one possibility of who was there to see her. Regan wished for not the first time that she could shed this cinniúint-thréigean coat. “Come.” She didn’t look at the child beyond the flash of red hair she’d caught in the corner of her eye, though she wanted to observe her. The chilly reception (or at least chillier than usual) was petty, she knew, but the morgue was not a hospital, and it was maddening that the Langley family seemed to treat it like one. Kaden was putain enough. Now there were two.

“Cad tá mé ag dul a dhéanamh leat?” Regan found herself muttering a question Cliodhna had muttered herself on a near daily basis, regarding her granddaughter with worn resignation. Regan had understood the question to really mean, “what good are you?” when it had been directed at her. Outside her office, she finally turned to meet the child’s eyes. She was young, but the tight expression on her face – masking pain, Regan thought – and dotting of scrapes and contusions across her skin suggested she was older than her years. Regan’s eyes narrowed, though not unkindly. She carded the door open. “Sit down, explain everything to me, and give me a very good reason why I should not be sending you to the hospital.”

The medical examiner was not a particularly large woman, but the way she moved around and commanded respect made her seem larger than life. It made Alex feel smaller than she already was, which was pretty damn small considering she’d been the same height since she was like eleven years old. She supposed she also shouldn’t have been thrown off by the cold way the doctor addressed her either, but something about it still made her wince and hold on tighter to the edges of the flannel she had all but wrapped around herself at that point. Dr. Kavanagh wasn’t even overly harsh. Her eyes definitely weren’t cruel, the werewolf just already felt exposed. Ashamed. Because hadn’t she been taught to tend to her own wounds like Andy and Kaden had?

“Hospitals are for humans,” Alex answered as if it was obvious. It was a show, but not a very good one. Her fingers fumbled over the hem of the green plaid and she knew she’d need to give a better answer than that. This had been a bad idea, but the full moon had only made things worse. “Kaden mentioned the mutated animal thing. When I was shot, I didn’t look like a person. I look like one now… but I’m still not.”

The word monster was practically at the tip of her tongue, but Alex wasn’t sure that one wouldn’t get her carted right off to the hospital. She wasn’t entirely sure how much Regan knew, but some of her oddities seemed to indicate she should know something. Especially considering she probably saw some pretty strange deaths. She shifted nervously on her feet and only slightly cringed when the movement caused pain. “Uh,” she started, “Everything… well, I was… mutated. And someone shot me. Then the full moon happened and I lock myself in a bunker so mutated me doesn’t…”

She looked down at her feet. Alex couldn’t even speak what she knew she was capable of. “Think I had a bit of a panic attack while mutated,” she mumbled, not quite meeting Dr. Kavanagh’s eyes as she rolled up her sleeves to show various bruises, scrapes, and scratches, “My cla– nails get really long. That’s the uh… scratches.”

What were the odds the doctor would buy that one? It was the truth, but the truth was often harder to believe than a really good lie.

“They are, yes, and I’m not about to do any procedures that couldn’t be done on a human.” Regan rolled her eyes. Why did everyone think they were some exception to going to the hospital? Why people thought they weren’t human was another question, but one Regan knew she wasn’t going to move the needle on. “Just as morgues are for humans, by the way. But for whatever reason you find this more palatable, and I just want you examined by someone.”

But with some recent context, Alex’s explanation made Regan’s thoughts immediately turn to Gael. This sounded like… what was it he’d called it? Wolfitis? No, lycanthropy. Did the two of them know each other? That question made her brow crease. Regan wasn’t sure she liked that, especially if this child was one of the people trying to spoon feed him all of this strange terminology, all of these lies. Gael had mentioned precisely this, though – someone who had locked themselves in a bunker and injured themselves in there.

Other questions cascaded from there. If Alex was shot because of this… mutation, and she had the same illness as Gael, could this have been the individual Gael was warned about, the one targeting people with this specific health condition? That was a sobering thought.

Regan realized she had been silent for some time. She gave the child a nod and stretched her gloves over her hands. The girl was nervous, almost trembling, and she had never been great at putting people at ease. Though Regan suspected some of it was that Alex was talking to a doctor about any of this at all. Perhaps she could help ameliorate that fear. “I might be familiar with your condition.” Regan looked down at her then took a seat across from the girl. She knew she’d need to be on her feet shortly, but she had learned in interacting with next of kin and patients that they felt more comfortable on the same level. “My condolences that you are afflicted. I am close to someone who–” With a jolt, she comprehended what had come out of her mouth, and she cleared her throat, wiggled uncomfortably in her coat. “I have an acquaintance who may have the same ailment. He handles it differently than you.” Regan waved a hand as if to dismiss any talk of Gael. Her stomach felt like a hot pit. Acquaintance was correct. Fearg an chinniúint, why had she not said that first?

As Alex rolled up her sleeves, it at least gave Regan something else to focus on. Something comfortable, something she knew. Something that wouldn’t dip into the unfamiliar territory of acquaintance-plus relationships. Regan surveyed the girl’s skin. Alex was pretty scraped up, pretty bruised, but Regan didn’t see anything demanding her attention. She spoke after a moment, not rudely, but also not dancing around the point. “We both know I’m not interested in seeing minor incised wounds on your extremities. Will you show me the gunshot wound?”

“Palatable,” Alex murmured, “Right…” She wasn’t exactly sure she considered this trip to the morgue palatable. If it hadn’t been for the way she chewed at her wound during the full moon, she wouldn’t be here at all despite the fact Dr. Kavanagh had practically demanded she come get checked out if she wasn’t going to a hospital. There was also no way in hell that Alex was willingly going to a hospital, so here she was at the morgue, letting Regan in all her tame exasperation check out the re-opened stitches that she refused to show Kaden. She wondered if doctor-patient confidentiality applied here because she’d really rather this not get back to Kaden, but Alex wasn’t so sure she should be pushing her luck here.

Nerves made it hard for Alex to look up and meet the medical examiner’s eyes. Instead, her gaze wandered over the half packed boxes that were strewn across the office. She remembered Regan vaguely speaking of leaving when she had offered up those books, but that had felt like a whole lifetime ago.

“You are familiar with it,” Alex perked up. It was hardly an admission that the doctor believed in the supernatural, but at least she thought it was plausible. Maybe that meant she didn’t think Alex was completely insane. “How does he handle it,” she asked, genuinely curious. Given her own debacle with the bunker this month, she knew she had to be open to ideas even if she wasn’t sure they’d actually be good ideas.

It wasn’t surprising to Alex that the medical examiner wanted her to get right to showing her the worst of her injuries. The gunshot wound was why she was here and why Regan was frustrated with her for not seeing a doctor at a hospital. Still, she swallowed nervously as she pulled down the hem of the cargo pants she was wearing to reveal where the bullet had grazed her left hip. The stitches looked about as chewed through as they were and fresh blood had dried up around it. Even looking at it made her feel light-headed and she cursed herself. “Uh, this is it. Do I…” She trailed off, unsure of what she was supposed to do. She couldn’t recall ever having gone to an actual medical professional.

“I’ll tell you about it shortly,” Regan said, knowing what lay ahead better than Alex, and knowing she’d be grateful for the distraction. “For now, just stay still.” She gave the site a careful look, as one might assess the virtues of a renowned painting in an art museum. To her, there was beauty in such an ugly thing. But the fact it was on a live human being tainted such a lovely show of anatomy. It was immediately clear that Alex should have gone to a hospital. But the wound could have been much worse, all things considered; the bullet had grazed her, not hitting bone or even really leaving a full entry wound. But any bullet at any distance could be lethal, or disfiguring at a minimum, and Regan was sure this one had caused great pain.

And then there was the attempt to fix this. The sutures were chewed up, mangled, almost as bloodied a sight as the wound they were poorly tethering closed. They couldn’t have started off that way (even if they were poorly-applied then, too). It looked like an animal had done this. She was sure Alex wouldn’t give her the truth as to how this happened, even if perhaps she thought she was giving it. There was one other remarkable thing: the bubbling blisters surrounding the margins of the wound, as if the bullet that struck her had also burned her skin. It was true bullets were heated as they were fired, this appeared to be something more. Like her skin had rejected the material of the bullet. She thought of her own hands, scarred with iron discipline, and a connection was sparked only to be swiftly rejected. Alex was not fae.

Regan hissed a breath of air through her teeth and finally turned up and away from the wound, looking Alex in the face. “The good news is that there’s no sign of an infection. But… well, first of all, you need new stitches, which means removing the current ones, which will hurt considerably. I apologize in advance.” Alex wouldn’t want to be standing for that. And her wiggling would make things harder. Regan sighed, her eyes flicking over the table. At what point did it make sense for her to invest in a procedure chair for her office? That would be a fun one to explain to the higher ups. For now, she made due with pushing the table directly up against one of the chairs. It was a sturdy thing. It would hold. “Can you lie down on there? I’m going to apply new ones after I remove the old. Do you think you can keep still?”

“Appreciate it,” Alex responded kindly, “And I can manage that.” It might make her light-headed and nauseated, but she could sit still through the pain. Her parents had made certain of that even if she had never been graced with the accelerated healing to go along with the hunter training. It didn’t change the way her heart felt like it was pounding in her ears rather than her chest. She almost wished Dr. Kavanagh would explain now and put off the inevitable, but the wound the silver bullet left behind was the reason she was here. With how she chewed through the stitches, she wasn’t even sure it was in a state Kaden could deal with and she didn’t want him to. He’d only worry and that protective streak he had would only grow.

Alex chewed at her bottom lip nervously as she watched Regan move one of the tables up to a chair. The office wasn’t set up for patients of the living variety which made sense considering it was a morgue. Somehow, that still seemed better than a hospital and the inevitable questions they would ask. Not that Regan didn’t have questions, but she seemed to consider the possibilities of mutants. Werewolves were kind of mutants, just not the superhero kind like Phoenix and Cyclops.

“Kind of figured,” she nodded, “Both on the new stitches and the pain. It’s fine.” It was not fine. As she sat down in the chair, she already felt the sweat begin to pool in her palms and across her brow. If her lip hadn’t gone right back to its place between her teeth she was fairly certain it would also be quivering. Even if she wore a brave face, Regan was a doctor. Physiological evidence would tell her everything she needed to know and it brought the werewolf a great deal of shame. If it wasn’t so damn sad, it’d almost be laughable that a monster was shaking in her boots over a medical examination. She laid down on the table and something about the fluorescents shining down made her want to crawl out of her skin again, but she was sure to stay still as a log. “Ok, I’m ready when you are,” she breathed out through gritted teeth.

Regan worked swiftly and adeptly. And though Alex was shaking, she did eventually seem to calm herself down. It was easier once the worst was over – removing what remains of the old stitches. Putting the new ones in was easy by comparison, though Alex still wouldn’t appreciate the feel of the needle on what was still a rather raw wound. She wasn’t great at distracting patients during procedures – usually any distraction would fall on dead ears – but she would try. “That acquaintance I mentioned. He… camps.” That hardly sounded like a solution at all, saying it aloud. She wondered if it would sound just as foolish to Alex. “It might not be precisely the same ailment you’re dealing with. I don’t know if you sleepwalk. But he seems to think that things are better when he camps, rather than being confined to his bedroom.” Either way, though, Gael seemed to wake up with blood under his fingernails and a dead animal carcass or two nearby.

As she finished up the last of the stitches, she seemed to grow heavier. Camping was helping. She wasn’t sure she could say the same anymore, given that Gael was attacked by some animal last time. Almost fatal. The maddening man thought he was lucky that the creature had just missed clamping down on his spine, but Regan didn’t believe in luck, and even if she did, what was lucky about almost dying? “I’m not suggesting you camp in the woods,” Regan clarified, “It didn’t go so well for him last time. There are too many dangerous animals lurking about. Bears. Coyotes. Screaming moose.”

While the explanation did little to clarify anything for Alex, listening to the medical examiner talk was a welcome distraction to the increasingly unbearable pain in her hip as the wound was tended to. Some of it sounded vaguely familiar. If asked, she would probably tell those who weren’t in the know about werewolves that she was going to be camping that night. It was close enough to the truth, hiking out deep into the woods to turn into wolf-monster and eat dinner/sleep was basically camping, was it not? The sleepwalking bit was curious and made her wonder if Gael was her acquaintance. “Camping,” she said through gritted teeth, “Wanted to give that a try myself.”

There were more questions, but none came to mind as Alex made a concentrated effort to remain still and keep her limbs from trembling. It worked well enough for her legs, but her hands were shaking under the sleeves of her jacket ever so slightly. So she let the thought of further questioning go until Regan finished up the last of the stitches. Even then, she needed a moment to recover and only barely caught the doctor saying that she didn’t recommend camping.

“Not worried about coyotes and bears,” Alex explained, “Could live without the screaming moose, though I’ve never actually seen one scream.” It didn’t seem like the point. She knew Dr. Kavanagh was pointing out the dangers that lurked in the woods, but even with the context of her having some sort of mutation, she didn’t think the doctor realized that she was one of the dangers in the woods if she was out there. “Mutation kind of,” she trailed off, unsure of how to explain it, “Gives me some protection there. And me being deep out in the woods is a lot safer for everyone else. Mutation is… weird.”

It’d be a lot easier to just say werewolf, but Alex wasn’t too sure how well that one would fly. “But you mentioned sleep-walking… the person you know doesn’t happen to be a chemistry professor, does he?”

“Do you know who else thought they could deal with the coyotes and bears?” Alex probably saw where this was going but Regan continued anyway. “At least a hundred of my decedents, probably more. And I haven’t even worked here a full year yet.” Regan sometimes needed to remind herself that she had nothing to fear from anything, that no wild animal could harm her, but most people were the opposite; they held more confidence than they had the right. “Whatever capabilities you have were not enough to protect you from your assailant, nor whatever chewed you up after.” Nor Gael, from the animal that almost took his life last time he went camping. Speaking of… did Alex know?

Yes, she knew Gael. And now Regan couldn’t help but wonder if the mutated child in front of her was one of the scores of individuals who had been trying to convince Gael he was a werewolf. Something clenched in her chest, and she itched with discomfort. Caring was such a bothersome thing. She kept her voice stoic so as not to betray that Alex was correct. “Rather inappropriate to try and figure out which individual I’m referring to, don’t you think?” She raised a brow as sharply as the needle and finished up the last of the sutures. “Fortunately for you, I will not fault nosiness, as I exhibit plenty of my own. But you won’t get your answer from me.” If she wanted to ask Gael, that was her prerogative. For a second – a second too long – she entertained how Gael might refer to her as something other than an acquaintance, and the thought made bile bloom in her stomach.

“There. You are done.” Regan rose to her feet and gave Alex a self-satisfied look. “Now, are you going to tell me why you allowed an animal to chew on your first set of stitches? Because I don’t want a repeat of that. You will not enjoy that, either.” Regan had a feeling Alex would either tell her nothing at all, or make up some outlandish story involving werewolves and vampires and ghosts. She had to wonder if a doctor in the ED would have been able to coax out the truth, or at least more of the truth than Regan could get. The dead were more honest, every time.

When it came to Wicked’s Rest, coyotes and bears were the least of her worries. Even though most bears had considerable size on Alex they still didn’t stand much of a chance against a werewolf. Maybe if grizzlies were in the area, she’d be slightly more concerned, but as it stood, the standard wildlife of Maine seemed safer than literally ripping herself apart in the bunker. It seemed like the extent of her ‘mutation’ wasn’t exactly clicking with the medical examiner though and she wasn’t even sure how to explain her choice to camp in a way that would make sense. “Well, still safer than the alternative,” she shrugged, “And that was different. Someone like him would have found me anywhere… and nothing chewed through my stitches.”

Not that she was sure that Regan would believe her. Alex was a bit more on the monstrous canine side when she had in fact chewed through her stitches. That wasn’t nothing, that was just herself having a little werewolf panic attack in a bunker. Even if she had the energy to explain following having her stitches removed and replaced, it wasn’t like there was an explanation that most would find reasonable… hence, why she hadn’t gone to a hospital.

Though she was quickly reminded of the medical nature of her visit when Regan shut down her question about Gael. When most of the patients were dead, Alex thought it was easy enough to forget about the whole patient/doctor confidentiality thing… but she was alive. Gael was also alive. “Right,” she stammered, looking down in embarrassment, “Forgot the whole doctor patient confidentiality thing… Only heard of it in theory, never in practice.”

Given, Alex hadn’t actually ever been to a normal doctor. At least Dr. Kavanagh wasn’t going to hold her question against her. The delivery was still cold, but there was something of understanding in it too. Even though cold sweat still clung to her skin, she smiled, “It’s scientific curiosity. We both like to understand things… and okay, maybe a little bit of it is nosiness.”

Of course, the question of what happened to her stitches came and the truth was Alex didn’t have a good explanation. Even if she hadn’t done it to herself, the state of her injury did in fact imply she let something do this to her. But Regan talked about mutations… maybe she could hint at the truth. She ran a sweaty palm through her tangled hair and looked down at her lap. “I didn’t let anything chew through them,” she answered nervously, “I was locked in a bunker alone. I did this to me… while I was sleepwalking.”

“And I’ll grant you the same privacy… mostly.” Regan had already decided she’d make an exception and tell Kaden about this. They were cousins. And from where she was standing, Kaden was the responsible adult, the one who should have insisted that Alex be placed in front of an emergency room physician. But the man was too stuck in his own phobia to help her. Oh, yes, she certainly had some words for him. Náireach bórd.

Sleepwalking. There it was. Her thoughts turned to Gael once more, and an exhausted sigh swelled in her lungs. At this point, both Alex and Gael were viewing reality through such distorted lenses she wasn’t sure which of them was correct about any aspect of this illness. “Lycanthropy,” she could rule out. But short of that, anything else was on the table. And unfortunately, it wasn’t an autopsy table. That would be too easy. Regan rolled her gloves off and discarded them, keeping her eyes on Alex. “That isn’t physically possible. You can’t chew through something on your hip. I have never known anyone to be that flexible. If you’re going to argue otherwise, then I ask that you show me right now.” But that would not happen, she was sure of it. “And if you were asleep, how do you know what happened?” Regan raised a brow, a moment of triumph settling over her face before she realized the unknown still loomed.

She also realized that, sometimes, there was no winning. Regan sighed, her shoulders tensing. Briefly, she considered extending a hand to Alex to help her off the chair, but she had already removed her gloves. “How does it feel? Is your movement alright?” She gave Alex a sharp look. The commanding eye of a doctor who knows patients will almost always act against medical advice. “Be good to your hip. No vigorous exercise for at least eight weeks. Light exercise is acceptable after four. Keep the site clean. Tell me if it begins to smell like an infection or leak fluids.” Her gaze softened, only slightly. “I do not have lollipops. They would have given you one at the hospital. Go there, next time.”

Mostly. Alex wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to know what that meant, but she hoped it meant that Kaden wasn’t going to find out about her stitches being chewed through. He knew something was up and realistically she knew she could only avoid it for so long. Kaden was a stubborn pain in the ass like that. No matter how hard she tried to push, he kept being there. Almost annoyingly so, but that was more her frustration than anything else. So instead of getting clarification, she simply shrugged. She couldn’t get an answer she didn’t like if she didn’t ask the question. It was a sound philosophy as far as she was concerned.

“Some people call it that, yeah,” Alex mumbled. It wasn’t like she could exactly prove her point. Even if she had mastered shifting outside the moon, it wasn’t like she was going to turn into a large wolf monster in the middle of the damn morgue. With how seriously Regan took her job, she was pretty sure the doctor would not be even remotely chill about an animal in her otherwise pristine office. Part of her wished Regan could understand, she wanted the doctor to believe her, but she wasn’t going to push. Instead, she shrugged. “Like this jacket too much to ruin it.”

Alex stood up from the chair and grimaced slightly. Even if she wanted to, vigorous activity was definitely not on the table. She let out a pained laugh. “Think I can manage skipping the heavy physical activity. But noted on all of the above,” she paused, “I appreciate you taking the time to fix the stitches back up.” Then, there was something a little less cold in Dr. Kavanagh’s gaze, but she was fairly certain that was wishful thinking. Still, the ‘not joke’ was humorous. “Yeah, yeah,” she shook her head as she headed toward the door, “Think I’m a little old to bribe with lollipops… but sentiment is noted and appreciated.”

Was she ever going to willingly go to a hospital? Not a chance. Alex figured if she had more than one conversation ever with Kaden, the doctor probably already knew as much. She figured she could at least try to keep herself out of trouble so that word of an injury didn’t get back to Regan again.

#wr regan #self harm tw #threads; with regan #threads; with regan; no lollipops in the morgue #wickedswriting #(never been a natural all i do is try try try) ;; writing #(the moonlight's blinding) ;; season 1 writing

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