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matchamorphosis · 3 years

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˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝒸𝑜𝑜𝓀𝒾𝑒𝓈 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓂𝒾𝓁𝓀

𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝑒𝓇𝓎 | after an anxiety episode, you and ari make cookies together.

𝑔𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒 | steamy angsty fluff!

𝓅𝒶𝒾𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔 | daddy!ari levinson × black//woc!reader

𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉 | 4.3K

𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 | 18+ ddlg! ♡ anxiety attack ♡ some sexual themes ♡ degradation ♡ dick jokes ♡ hints to smut but nothing else! ♡ this is all 100% concentrated fluff

𝓈𝑜𝓃𝑔 𝓅𝓇𝑜𝓂𝓅𝓉𝓈 | love language by ariana grande ♡ tuxedo junction by glenn miller ♡

𝓌. 𝓃𝑜𝓉𝑒 | okay so i tried okay i tried to make it as fluffy as i can but i just couldn’t help to not lace my own school circumstances into this while writing :( i can’t believe I got this out in just a day but i hope y’all enjoy this cherubs!!! ♡ do not repost or plagiarize my work on any other fanfic platform such as: wattpad, ao3, tumblr, etc or plagiarize my work all together. do so and i will rip your spine from your scumy asshole and shove it down your talentless throat. ♡♡♡

♡ the sight of the tiny blue ‘submit’ button at the bottom of the screen increased the swirling thoughts as your eyes turned to the ticking clock at the bottom right of the computer screen.

♡ you don’t take a second to breathe but anxiously bite the flesh of your lower lip, this week long project was coming to a crashing deadline as it was due in just a minute from now.

♡ how have you gotten yourself in this distressful circumstance?

♡ well typical clumsy you blacked out in a power nap for the past hours when you thought you submitted the assignment while waiting for your friend to do the touch ups of her portion of the assignment worth one-third of your semester grade.

♡ waking up from the long nap felt like cloudy heaven, mind finally relaxed accompanied with the delicious looseness of your energized limbs as you stretched them.

♡ of course the rosy moment was quickly diminished when you reached for your phone at your side table, hoping to catch up on any recent news you missed out from your nap.

♡ and you had as you skimmed through each and every exhilarating and restless text from your friend who apparently got a message from both your professor that the assignment wasn’t turned in.

♡ your mind raced as you quickly opened your laptop, tracing through your emails you eye the message from your professor that was outlined in red.

♡ the simple sentence of: this assignment affects your semester grade, turn it in before the deadline.

♡ had your widening eyes taking the email in, your mind flashed through the memory when you strictly remembered that you clicked the submit button.

♡ you know you did, you fucking know it but here you are anxiously rushing to submit it again.

♡ but at this point it doesn’t matter because you are now seconds away from turning it in before the whole portion of the google classroom submission turns grey.

♡ gathering the link to the word document that held your assignment the beating in your chest was beginning to level once your hand dragged the mouse pad cursor to the little blue button.

♡ rechecking the links you don’t dare take an inhale until your painted cherry red index finger clicks down hard on the submit button, eyes widening and heart pounding when the little loading circle appears.

♡ “c’mon!” your hushed whisper stresses, your hands forming into tight fists that rest onto the warm plushness of your thighs your skirt didn’t cover.

♡ uneasy eyes flash to the clock onto your macbook and notice the white font against the black outline displaying 11:59, you let out a closed lip whine when the loading whirlpool doesn’t go away and the bold purple words of ‘submitted!’ don’t appear on your screen.

♡ however, with whatever saving grace and golden strand of luck that was fortunately bestowed on you, that easing message appeared seconds away from the striking hour of midnight.

♡ letting out a relieved sigh your head falls back as you closed and rubbed your eyes, your cold fingertips attempting to cool your racing head you move them away from your face when your phone tings.

♡ grabbing your phone that was thrown in your blitzing uneasiness minutes ago the sight of your friends name appears on your lockscreen, under it holds their message.

♡ please [y/n] tell me you turned it in.

♡ you unlock your phone and message them back, informing them that you have turned it in which you received the same relieved feedback that coursed through your mind a minute ago.

♡ closing off the conversation with a comment of speaking to them tomorrow you shut off your phone and closed your macbook, setting them both on their individual chargers before walking out of your room.

♡ you can hear the light jazz of glenn millers ‘tuxedo junction’ fuzz through the halls, the pinkness of your socks that cover your feet guide you to where the music gets stronger and stronger.

♡ ari’s office door is slightly cracked, the music bustling inside it flowing out into the hallway you step closer and peek your eye through the crack.

♡ there you see your lover, sitting at his polished desk, a cigarette in hand he puffs it as his spectacle eyes glance down at the papers that lie in front of him, an ink pen in his other grasp writes down what he needs to.

♡ glancing down you notice his feet tapping against the carpet to the suave rhythm of the jazz blasting on a small speaker at the corner near his numerous chestnut bookshelves and flourishing green potted plants.

♡ taking a deep inhale of the cigar the white smoke that slips through his lips looks like a soft cotton cloud, your heart jumps to an opportunity when his hand that holds his pen stops writing.

♡ his eyes skimming through his papers as his fingers adjust the glasses on the bridge of his nose, setting down his burning thick cigar on the ashtray near him as well.

♡ fingers framing the sides of his bearded cheeks, your lover reads his written work with a careful eye, foot continuing to tap as the beat enters into its main rowdy trumpet chorus.

♡ pink tongue gliding against his rosy lips, his eyes shine and with that he takes the papers in both his hands and evens them out, grabbing the stapler that’s set near his neatly arranged pens he clicks the thick papers together.

♡ grabbing a navy blue folder he sets the papers in it and opens one of his desk drawers before setting his paperwork amongst his other files, shutting it closed his fingers grab his cigar that is still burning.

♡ taking it back between his lips your eyes don’t leave them, you never wanted to be that cigar so badly, your heart skips a beat when ari’s yes set against yours, a smirk peeking his tobacco smoked lips you let out a hushed ‘eep’ and back away from the door.

♡ you hear ari’s deep chuckle from in his office, causing your face to heat up and limbs to go stiff in embarrassment, peeking your face again through the doors crack your eyes set back on ari’s amused smirk and you gasp and move your head away.

♡ ari let out a airy laugh, oh he was enjoying your flustered state, he always found it so cute when he caught you staring at him.

♡ “come in princess,” he spoke.

♡ smirk still plastered on his lips he exhales another white smoky cloud before putting out the thick cigar, not wanting you to inhale any of the fumes.

♡ hears the door open, eyeing your shy figure walking to him growing confident with each step.

♡ your hips, legs and shoulders dance along the jazzy miller piece, making his smirk widen as you sway and swing your body to emphasize your pronounced curves that hide in your thick collared sweater and tennis skirt.

♡ he can’t snatch his eyes away from your soft thighs that aren’t properly covered from that ridiculously short skirt, his eyes darken when he sees your fingers unbuttoning the buttons of the top portion of the designer sweatshirt.

♡ your hands do a sinister job at gliding up your curves slowly, teasingly rising the hem of your flowy skirt before gripping the bottom of your unbuttoned canary yellow sweatshirt.

♡ pulling it off your bodice and over your head you throw it behind you to reveal the crop top that tightly wraps your chest, displaying your plump cleavage ari’s darken eyes latch upon.

♡ “hi daddy,” you speak through your glossed lips and batting lashes, stepping around to stand besides his figure sitting in his leather swivel chair.

♡ those honeyed words are spoken in an almost purr, your eyes skimming his face and to the objects that cover his desk your curious fingertips and cherry painted acrylics graze and clack against.

♡ the image of his dark eyes sparkle when they meet yours, they glimmer in adoration as one of his large warm hands rise to cup your cheek.

♡ “hello princess,” the deepness of his words has your chest fluttering and the heat of your core radiating sensually, your eyes leave his and your lips press against each other abashed.

♡ his smirk turns into a soft smile, how can his little pearl be so bold yet shy at the same time?

♡ whatever it is about you he savors and cherishes, his hand that cups your chin is removed to pat down on his trouser thigh but maybe he thinks otherwise on the known signal that you're a bit to latched on the mood and want him to take over whatever thick sexual tension he started.

♡ however he’s surprised as his little shy pearl wraps her arms around his neck, pedicured fingers lacing in his shoulder length hair as soft legs smoothly straddle his lap, it made it all easier that they were parted slightly as you settled your bum against his calves.

♡ took him by another surprise as you smashed your bubblegum glossed lips against his, rubbing your chest against his as your tongue slipped into his mouth.

♡ you usually don’t kiss him like this after he had a cigar but ari isn’t complaining as he swirls his tongue with yours, his large hands travel down to cup your bum to find a nice surprise which results in his pants tightening more against his thick bulge.

♡ your shameless skirt doesn’t even cover your ass properly, the fringed designer cloths trimming curtains the curve of your ass but leaves the plump dips of your under cheeks uncovered for his rough palms to smooth and grope.

♡ you moan against his lips but that soft moans turns into a pitched whine as he releases his lips from your erotic mouth, in result he lightly slaps your ass before groping the flesh.

♡ “how was your nap sleeping beauty?” ari’s voice low and raspy at the cause of your kiss, you sigh and bow your head at remembering the thought.

♡ “it was nice daddy but it turned a little rotten after,” your pout causes his brows to scrunch.

♡ “why’s that princess?” his hands smooth and pat your hair still slightly untamed from your nap, your hands that grip his expansive button up smooth the material down.

♡ “because I had to rush to turn in an assignment I thought I turned in, it was so stressful finding out from my friend who thankfully reminded me of so,” you mutter, your mood becoming spoiled when remembering school.

♡ nowadays you barely enjoyed your time with your daddy without worrying about any uncompleted assignments or the thought of your grades dropping or being fully invested in studying.

♡ school was a killjoy, it was killing your special time with your daddy and even though you still turned in that project your mind still was filled with anxiety and stress.

♡ “have you turned in your assignment doll?” ari spoke and you nodded your head, calming a bit as his hand rubs your back up and down, the sensation almost therapeutic. “then what is my princess worrying about?”

♡ your pout signifies it all, you don’t know what your stressing about, maybe you forgot another assignment that needed to be turned in, maybe you forgot to study for a test that was nearing soon, maybe you missed a virtual class during your nap.

♡ your eyes water and your bottom lip trembles, the grip you have on his button up tightens with your fear-riddled scrunch, your breathing stuttering which has ari sitting up to grab your face in his hands.

♡ “hey, hey. baby calm down-,” but your breathing still stutters as your face scrunches and streams in your aggressive tameless tears.

♡ “baby, sweetheart look at me!” his voice snaps to your attention as your red eyes meet soothing aqua pools, hands gripping his shoulders and teary eyes locked in need to keep him close but he seems like an ocean away.

♡ “count with me baby, like we practiced before. inhale-” he says, inhaling a breath and your stuttering lungs are quick to inhale a breath along with him, your mind however races still. “exhale,” he whispers and lets out a breath and you do so.

♡ “one,” you two continued this breathing session till your tears stopped and your pacing chest settled calmly against his, the only sound being the soft trumpet of another jazz song playing and your soft sniffs.

♡ his arms cage you in a warm secure hug, hands rubbing soothing circles against your back as your open hands rest against his chest, he had you drink a glass of water with a tylenol tablet to ease you.

♡ yet your silence is a major tell to ari that your mind is still scrambling despite feeling your stable heartbeat against his, he presses a kiss to the crown of your head.

♡ “[y/n]? princess?” ari softly speaks, your eyes slightly sting from your vicarious crying and your head aches from the episode that happened a while ago, cheeks slightly damped, you raise your hands to wipe them dry.

♡ pulling your head away from his collar bones you sit up to meet his reassured glance to yours, “i’m sorry daddy,” you spoke, it was almost drenched in seeking forgiveness but ari shove his head while cupping your face in his hands again pulling your face to his.

♡ “no sweetheart don’t apologize, it’s all alright. something like this shouldn’t need an apology, you aren’t at any fault because you’ve done nothing wrong but let out your emotions.” your eyes watered with his comforting words.

♡ “it’s not the things that are stressing you that are bothering you, it’s just the thought. it’s just your thoughts, just and only your thoughts but you got through that so well princess. i’m so proud of you.” ari’s thumbs swiped away at each of your tears, your lips slowly curling up in a small smile at his praise.

♡ sitting up on your knees you rested your forehead against his, nose bumping against his you giggled as our daddy’s eyes squinted at the impact before letting out a soft chuckle,

♡ your eyes glimmering as they twined to ari’s cooling blue hues through his frameless thin glasses, your hands rise up to caress his bearded cheeks, his finely soft hairs tenderly scratch your fingers and palms while his rub your bare lower back.

♡ an equally tender smile radiates off both of you before he pecks your lips to his.

♡ “tell me princess, tell daddy what you want. anything you want you’re getting,” his words string together a thoughtful expression compressed on your pretty facial features, your stomach interrupts you both as it loudly growls.

♡ “clever princess, you didn’t have to tell daddy when he could hear your hungry tummy,” ari’s own comment makes him laugh loudly and your face heats up as you swat his chest.

♡ “stop being mean daddy,” you grumble with a pout but you still see that handsome smirk against his face and as much as you wanna turn your head away when he grabs your chin you allow him to kiss you.

♡ “alright daddy’s done with being a meanie. c’mon sweetheart, lets get some food inside that tummy,” he says poking your belly.

♡ the tickling sensation lets out a giggle from you while he grabs your body to wrap your legs around his waist as he gets off his seat.

♡ ari carries you out of his office to the kitchen, setting you down on the lavish island that stands in the large kitchen however you whine when the cold surface hits your back thighs.

♡ the little sound alerts ari who turns his head to you after searching the refrigerator for some ingredients to create a suitable meal for you.

♡ “oh right, sorry princess,” he says and carries you to a cushioned chair near the dinner table, of course you could jump off the counter and walk to the seat yourself but you both like it when he babied you.

♡ after just a minute of searching through the refrigerator he closes his with a sigh, “do you wanna order something sugarplum?” he said and you smiled and nodded your head.

♡ “yes daddy,” you spoke and his chest hums in glee seeing your joy laced in your voice, he allowed you to order whatever food you wanted on your food delivery app since he wasn’t an expert at those things.

♡ a thing about ari is that he was so old fashioned, he didn’t have a computer to organize all his files because he had numerous drawers and file cabinets to keep all his important documents.

♡ his portable device was a flip phone and as much as you teased him for it he didn’t bulge at taking interest in any technological advances to his life.

♡ “is that all you want sweetheart? you don’t want anything else for the night?” ari spoke as he poured you a glass of ice cubed strawberry mint water from a glass pitcher, setting the cup in front of you as you scrolled through your phones feed.

♡ you smile up at him as you take the glass, “can we make cookies?” you ask before raising the glasses rim to your lips and taking a sip of the cold minty berry water.

♡ “didn’t you order a dessert on the app?” he asked and you shook your head no, the dessert options the restaurant of your choice didn’t really have anything that sparked interest to your midnight cravings.

♡ “don’t you think it’s a bit late to bust open the flour and sugar baby?” he said and a naughty smile grazes your lips at his question.

♡ “daddy it’s never too late to bust open anything if you put your mind to it,” your smooth voice spoke as you got off your seat to walk to the refrigerator, possessing a bit of flounce to your hips.

♡ you opened the stainless steel door handle and grabbed the large bar of nestle tollhouse cookie dough, closing the door behind you you walk to the island and place it in front of ari.

♡ if you both weren't doing it from scratch then this was the only option.

♡ he still stares down at it while you prepare the oven to preheat, getting out the cooking spray, parchment and cookie tray, “what’s wrong daddy?”

♡ “that’s big baby,” he said, his eye’s proximate on how many chocolate chip cookies the large bar could make but he doesn’t notice the naughty smirk that crosses your lips again until his eyes move up towards yours.

♡ “I know daddy but it isn’t as big as you,” ari’s face blushes at those words but before he can recollect any thoughts or get his hands on your insatiable figure of your moving skirt turns away to grab a knife, diminishing all his thoughts he rushes to take it away from you.

♡ “daddy can do this part, you can roll the dough in balls. can you do that princess?” ari softly asks, cutting open the bar he cuts even slices then cuts the thick circular prism in half to have you roll them both into spheres.

♡ “of course daddy but only if you can let me lick yours after we’re done with this,” you say getting straight to work with rolling the cold dough in your palms but only after brushing your ass against his thigh.

♡ ari couldn’t help his face from flushing into a crimson rose, feeling his pants tightening around his hardening erection at your shameless proclamations and actions.

♡ but it didn’t have him distracted from the task at hand or from quickly smacking your ass, commanding you to behave for him.

♡ and you did, kept your dirty remarks to yourself as you placed the spheres of cookie dough in a correct distance from each other in rows on the cookie tray.

♡ you both decided that ten cookies after a bit of a banter between you and him as you used your puppy eyes on him to make the whole tube but he set the discussion to an end with a compromise.

♡ the compromise being that he’d let you stay up and watch whatever movie you want with him as you had your take out and cookies, adding your additional requests to the compromise that there better be lots of cuddles and kisses.

♡ he slides your hot pink baking oven mitts with the mini stitched cupcakes on them and popped the cookie tray in the hot oven.

♡ turning to your figure sitting criss-cross apple sauce on the island setting the kitchen timer for twelve minutes and placing it down beside you.

♡ ari prepares the cooling rack and spatula for when the cookies are done, not noticing your neediness and attention seeking grabs at his collar and hair.

♡ “daddy,” you mutter, that bratty persona becoming clearer with each of your restless limbs and pouting lips attempting to grab his attention.

♡ “yes princess?” he spoke, his eyes moving towards yours to set sight of your signature doe eyes he knows so well.

♡ those doe eyes you give him when your bare and desperate underneath him.

♡ scratching crescent moons on his back, moaning so sweetly for him as he thrusts his cock in and out of your velvety pussy.

♡ you don’t say anything though, all you do is part your legs and his eyes darken once they set sight of your wet core open on display under your skirt.

♡ those same lust blown eyes dart down and meet your small peach colored panties crumbled on the floor underneath your dangling socked feet.

♡ before he can even do anything, before having the chance to rip that skirt off your body or getting on his knees and lick your tangy slicked folds the doorbell interrupts him.

♡ remembering your take-out, annoyance captivates ari but he smirks at the opportunity to tease you as you did him.

♡ so instead of ignoring the delivery person he walks away from your weeping cunt and gaped mouth to get the door.

♡ returning with your food and to your glossy pout your whines and grabs for him become more demanding and louder as he takes his sweet time taking each plastic take-out container and brown bag filled with food out of the delivery bag to the table.

♡ “daddy!” your bratty calls for him but he just ignores as he takes out plates and napkins for you and him, setting them to look their best on the dinner table.

♡ organizing the plastic containers and bags of food in between your plates he finally turns and walks to you, grabbing your waist you smirk thinking you got what you wanted but it disappears when the following words leave his mouth.

♡ “dinner time princess,” his smirk is more arrogant than yours and it only widens as you glare up at him, you’re so cute when you don’t get what you want.

♡ “you don’t want dinner princess?” he asked and you nodded your head, ari’s brow quirks in amusement.

♡ “then what do you want then princess?” it wasn’t a question, more so a demand to have the brat in his arms to speak on what she wants.

♡ you cross your arms and turn your head away from him, setting your angry sight on anything besides ari which he doesn’t permit as he grabs your jaw firmly in hands and shifts your sight to him.

♡ “speak up dolly. good girls get whatever they ask for, brats get nothing,” he spoke and your glare doesn’t ease one bit but your answer is mumbled to softly and lowly for ari to hear, your attitude only adding only the impatience ari has for you in this situation.

♡ “i’m sorry princess,” ari spoke before gripping your ass in a rough harsh handleful, “but daddy didn’t hear you. can daddy’s little dumb brat speak up? or does daddy have to give his dumb baby dinner and send her to bed with no cookies and cock?”

♡ the growl that rolled off his lips hit against the shell of your ear as his fingertips dig sharply into the raw warm plushness of your ass, your breath staggered but the wetness that pools your pleasure seeking core doesn’t lessen.

♡ “I want daddy please. please can I have it daddy?” you whimper, your voice meek and fragile and nothing like the cocky brat that teased him both verbally and physically moments ago.

♡ “you’ve been making jokes on daddy’s cock and balls since I let you make your cookies and now when you're on the receiving end of the joke you can’t properly tell daddy you want it?”

♡ his voice was rough and course, his hands that smack and grope your ass hold the same fierceness as he picks you up before slamming your back against the metal of the refrigerator.

♡ hearing the little breathy whine when his fingers purposely glide through your folds, his smirk darkens as your wetness coats his thick fingers.

♡ “oh, does my spoiled brat want daddy’s fingers? or does my spoiled brat want daddy’s cock?” he whispered as his head snakes in the crook of your neck.

♡ nibbling the tender skin under your ear that practically makes you cream against his stroking fingers.

♡ “I want your cock daddy! please, daddy! I need it!” your voice is a combination of whimpers and moans, the sound of it music to his ears.

♡ before he can give you another teasing stroke at your needy puffy folds, or command you to unbuckle his belt the timer for the cookies goes off.

♡ ari’s dark smirk shadows his face and you let out a whine knowingly the results of the night.

♡ it was going to take a while until you’ll get what you want and ari will partake in the satisfying discipline to teach you a lesson on misbehaving.

#♡ rosies mini headcannons ♡#♡ ari levinson ♡#ari levinson × reader #ari levinson × black!reader #ari levinson × woc!reader #ari levinson imagine #ari levinson fluff! ♡✨#ari levinson mini headcannon #chris evans headcannon #chris evans smut #ari levinson smut

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presumenothing · 4 years

Text

fmab (+03) fic masterlist

because even i’m starting to lose track of what i’ve posted so far. all writing is eventually crossposted to ao3, individual tumblr posts linked below the cut because it’s lengthy as hell

(this is like 85% post-promised day fic with the occasional canon-divergence au for flavour, ft lots of resembool kids, riza, and roy. basically gen with near-zero ship content because that’s how i roll)

update: total wordcount has now broken 20k 25k 30k 35k 40k 45k(!!!!)

update 2: now with crumbs of 03 content because yeehaw

april

“Actually, Winry – can you do something for me?”

“Lieutenant. Would you ever consider learning alchemy?”

“I guess I just – want to figure out who I am. Me, not the Fullmetal Alchemist.”

Besides, the scars on his palms have been – pardon his language – hurting like a bitch ever since he woke to this gloomy weather this morning.

Ishval had given him plenty of practice at that soldier’s art of taking even the lightest of naps whenever circumstances permitted.

[au] Ed has never had reason to hate how swiftly his mind works, not until now.

It’s just simple clerical error that leads to Edward Elric retaining his title and pay as a State Alchemist, even after the Promised Day. No, really.

may

He’s just tired, not about to collapse.

These days Ed’s journals are actual proper travelogues, no coded shit or anything.

[au] It doesn’t even start until after they arrive in Resembool.

(can’t have been the more socially-adjusted brother, obviously.)

[au] “I don’t,” Ed bites out, “know any damn alchemists.”

Maes raises an eyebrow and sloshes his near-empty cup pointedly.

august

[wip] “Is this about Al, or you?”

“–of course I know these aren’t the most efficient routes!”

Ed seriously considers dyeing his hair more than once, in the After.

Winry only needs a glimpse of red to know what it must be.

Rush Valley talks. Winry listens.

Much as Al loves his brother to itty-bitty-and-very-shouty pieces,

The first time someone mistakes Al for the Fullmetal Alchemist,

+ The thing is, Al gets it.

“Brother told me that you told him about Ishval,” Alphonse says.

It’s an honest observation – as honest as he can ever get, at least –

[au] In another world, she is never named the Hawk’s Eye.

“Somehow I doubt your place is much better, sir.”

would it be the most impossible thing to have happened to the Elrics?

“I can’t believe he didn’t tell us,” Ed growls,

a minimum age limit on all candidates for the State Alchemist exam.

“There’s gotta be a shark somewhere around.”

The Elrics make transmuting without circles look easy.

The problem, if Riza is to put it into words,

Al completely botches the first dozen or so transmutations

(Ed? Talking about automail? Over food?)

[au] in the end it’s Al who really takes after their father.

“Fullmetal realising his celebrity status? Woe betide us,”

The tea is actually well-made, first of all, not burnt

“Not like– I mean, personal about me, not you!”

[au] “Huh,” Al says.

Still less work than getting entropy-murdered by Olivier, he decides.

[au] It’s not every dead person that he sees.

[au] They weren’t even meant to stop in Resembool.

Jean just wants to make one thing – okay, a few things – very clear.

Ed knows this firsthand from too much Winry exposure.

The lump on the couch lets out a string of wholly intelligible noises.

september

“Take me out to dinner,” Riza says.

“We’re not even in Amestris, though.”

[au] Riza had been angry too, when she had let herself be, but hers is a cold ire, locked beneath glaciers and the burn of frostbite. Wrath makes no such pretences.

[outline] But in the case of Fullmetal – more specifically in the case of Fullmetal and Youswell – Roy mostly wishes he could unknow things.

[au] Roy forces enough air into his lungs to get the words out. “You’re dead.”

[outline…?] winry’s gonna like this, al says.

Alphonse flaps a hand. “Oh, because it’s complete bullshit.”

“Y’know, you really aren’t that tall, Brother.”

getting to finally keep a cat hadn’t been very high on his list of priorities.

[au] “Edward. Get out of here, take Envy with you.”

[wtnv au] “Welcome to Resembool.”

october

just because you’re immortal doesn’t mean you can’t die from food poisoning, young man.

[au snippet] It’s sort of a belief, in the eastern parts of Amestris,

[03] Al’s hug is the first real thing he’s felt in years.

[03] Never thought you were, Ed retorts lightly, and lets Alfons turn away with a huff.

“When you said to come visit you in Rush Valley this is not what I was expecting!”

(and jeez, only Ed would manage to make it necessary to keep a kit on hand for actual minor-to-major catastrophes during a semi-honeymoon trip)

november

[03] Except the sight of his brother only serves to make everything worse, for once.

[au] The worst thing about this is that it’s not even equivalent.

[au] “You wanna know why? The real reason, not the quantum bullshit I fed Mustang.” (+ more in the tag)

[snippet] And just for that I won’t be leaving Wrath any.

“I shall finally exact the decisive vengeance that I have always dreamed of,” Scar booms right back before Armstrong can even ask,

Al knows from the moment he wakes up that it’s going to be a good day.

[snippets] The real disaster comes when Ed learns how to weaponise his height.

[03 au] The man in the brown overcoat. That’s all anyone ever seems able to recall of Edward.

[au] They say the Elric house is haunted. Of course. Empty houses are always haunted.

Of course, this assumes that said person is an alchemist of some ability, and that said life has been one of some loss and strife.

“Are you alright? Nod for yes, swear at me for no.”

from the intervening pause he surmises Riza is jotting something down on the notepad she keeps by the phone.

She’s been looking forward to the day when her hair finally gets long enough to – well, no longer be short.

“Remind me of this the next time I decide to trust Ling any further than I can throw him.” ( + xing tag)

december

Ed’s almost twenty when he realises that Hawkeye must’ve been around his age when she was deployed to Ishval.

[au] At least this far out from Amestris Ed could mostly brush the first one off as an interplanetary translation fuckup.

bonus textposts and assorted nonsense

the Better Alchemist™️

on the topic of ed’s scrawl

al, defender of cat

*csi miami theme but with cats*

on the topic of flat affect + 200000% turbo by default

on the topic of pain tolerance + further thoughts

ed @ mustang’s problem solving skills

ok but about liore…

terrible TERRIBLE ideas (three of them)

putting the SHORT in SHORT-TEMPERED

clap reflex

you’re retired, ed, r e t i r e d

and by “ambidextrous” i mean “confused”

protip: you can’t

YEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAH (aka csi miami theme, riza redux)

feral ducklings, the continuation(??)

does THIS count as elric telepathy

honestly, y’all

too much fire?? sounds fake

on the topic of academia

sometimes the stars align

on the topic of riza hawkeye

terrible idea, berthold version

immortal troubles

THE CHURCH OF EDWARD ELRIC

PRIDE (& WRATH): one, two, three (4koma)

objectively the worst post-cos timeline

serious stuff: fma drama cd, daughter of dusk

asks: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8 aka izumi pwns roy, 9 aka not coffeeshop au, 10 aka legalities, 11 aka autograph woes

#fma #fullmetal alchemist #fmab #fma 03 #fanfiction #mine #yes i'm basically allergic to titles that is definitely it #ficlist

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milknette · 4 years

Text

day 18 - bookstore

cause lately i don't even know, what page you're on.

tumblr month: @auyeahaugust

links: ao3 | ff.net

THE first thing Marinette thinks as she pulls out the notebook is, that doesn't belong there.

And she's right— she knows Fu's Bookstore in and out; it's been her favorite place starting from when she discovered it in high school, and Marinette's practically lived there ever since.

(It's come to a point that some customers have assumed she's worked there, asking her questions as if she were an employee. Marinette still answers them even if she's not, just for the simple reason that she can.

Mister Fu doesn't mind either, assuring her that he loves the company and spirit she brings to the business.)

So Marinette always makes it a point to help whenever she can; her own personal way of saying thank you for providing her with a second home.

Today, she's organizing the books and placing them on their proper shelves.

It only takes a moment for her to notice the out-of-place and bright red notebook peeking out from the selection for Books About Superheroes.

"Weird," she quietly mutters to herself, wondering if someone had left it behind by mistake.

(But in case it was, then why would they shelf it, of all things?)

Curiously, Marinette opens the notebook.

On the first page, written in almost perfect handwriting:

'Up for making a new friend?

If yes, turn the page and write something!

I think that together, we'll be meowvelous.'

On the bottom is a drawing of an all-too-familiar catlike superhero, but was depicted so poorly that she almost couldn't identify it at all.

Marinette sighs.

Okay then. Guess she'll be writing something after all.

Adrien almost trips as he runs to the bookstore.

Maybe today. Maybe today someone actually replied!

He sneakily makes his way to the shelf, carefully watching to ensure that nobody's looking behind him. Adrien wraps the black jacket closer to his body in an attempt to hide himself.

Then, he opens the notebook.

First, he thinks with complete joy that, someone read it! This actually worked! He'll have a new best friend like in those coming-of-age movies and—

He flips to the next page.

'Please don't use the bookstore for your antics and jokes. I'll leave the notebook here for you to take back.

And Chat Noir, really? We all know the superior hero, and it's not him.'

Drawn below is an extremely intricate drawing of Ladybug, the superheroine of the Miraculous comic, arms out and holding her token yo-yo.

The sketch is so perfect that Adrien's tempted to rip the paper off and keep it for himself.

Instead, however, he decides to write back.

'Hey, it's not like I hate Ladybug, but we have to give Chat Noir some credit too! His puns are purrfect; absolute comedy gold.

But I love your drawing! Are you an art major?'

'His puns aren't all that clever. And you're not that great either, come to think of it. Maybe you could learn from Ladybug and start speaking more seriously?

And not an art major, but I'm in fashion design. I just like sketching in my free time. You, on the other hand? You could do with some practice. :-)'

'Then, teach me maybe?'

'Believe me, we're going to need a lot more notebooks if you want that to happen.'

Marinette doesn't know what makes her keep replying.

Maybe she doesn't want to lose a possible customer. Maybe the boredom of summer was finally getting to her. Maybe it's the fact that she pitied him because of his poor drawing skills and pure lack of taste in choosing superheroes.

Or maybe— maybe it's because she wants to know more about the strangely-optimistic and overly-friendly mysterious boy hiding behind the notebook's cover.

They continue their writing exchange for months.

(And have consequently gone through their fifth notebook to date. She figures that if they didn't doodle as much, they'd probably end up wasting much less paper.

But then again, Marinette does like seeing his awkward drawings decorate the pages.)

Their first argument over paper starts when Bookstore Stranger uses two whole pages to draw Ladybug and Chat Noir— sharing a kiss.

She doesn't even compliment him on the drawing.

'WHY ARE THEY KISSING?'

'Why not? I think they're in love! :'

'No, they're just partners by profession. A romantic relationship ruins their whole dynamic!'

'Well, I don't think that's true… if anything, that'd make their relationship that much stronger.'

'They don't even know each other beyond their masks! They can't possibly love each other without knowing their true identities.'

'So what? We don't know each other's real names.'

'Yeah, and we're not dating. Your point?'

The message doesn't come in the next day like it always does.

In fact, it doesn't come at all.

Marinette stops by the bookstore every morning.

Then every afternoon.

And even when it's closing time.

She arrives with a hopeful smile, then leaves feeling dejected and upset.

Maybe even angry.

Mister Fu asks her what's wrong.

"I found a stray kitty, and I think he ran away."

It's two weeks when she finally decides to get over it.

Marinette takes the notebook, a poorly-written #5 on its cover, and decides to throw it away.

She's two steps away from the trash can when she realizes that she can't get rid of it at all.

A month later, Marinette's taken a job at Fu's Bookstore.

It's a lazy Sunday, and she leans her head on the desk in front of her— eyes almost closing from how quiet it is.

Until the jingle of the door opening effectively wakes her up from her nap.

She rubs her eyes as the stranger walks up to her.

"Hi, I'm looking for this specific book and I just can't find it where I used to, so…"

"Okay, let me help you out," Marinette remarks, before turning to the desktop. "What's the title?"

"I actually don't know…"

She raises an eyebrow, then nods along. (Sure, she's gotten customers like this before.) "Can you describe what the contents are like, then? Or the design of the cover?"

"It's filled with sketches and some nonsense…"

"Nonsense?" Marinette wrinkles her nose. What a cruel way to describe a book someone's worked so hard on.

"I mean—! It's nonsense to everyone else, but not to me. And hopefully not to her either…"

Now, this is dragging on longer than it should.

"Then just describe the cover, please."

He brightens up. "Yeah! It's this bright red book; notebook, really, with the #5 on it? I know it should be around here somewhere, and I need to find it, I need to find a way to connect with her again…"

"..."

"See, I know it's not a real book, and I'm sorry I just snuck it here, but it's so important to me and…"

Marinette mutters unintelligibly.

"Sorry, I couldn't hear…"

She says it again.

"Can you repeat that?"

A third attempt.

"Please, just one more time—"

Visibly irritated, Marinette grabs a book from under her desk and places it in front of him. The number almost gleams as it's exposed to the light.

"That's exactly it! Thank you—"

"You can't have this."

"What?"

"It's my property."

"Look, I know I kept it in your library but…"

"No. We worked on it together, and you got to keep the last four so it's my turn."

"But—

Wait."

He looks up at her, eyes widening in surprise.

"Ladybug?"

She points at her name tag. "Marinette, actually. But hello, Chat. It's been awhile."

#auyeah2020 #mlauyeahaugust2020 #auyeahaugust #auyeah august #adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng #adrinette #ml #miraculous ladybug #milk writes #ml fic #ml fanfic #inspired by dash & lily !!

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talpup · 3 years

Text

Summary: Yami Sukehiro just wanted to join the Magic Knights and make his mentor proud. He knew there would be trails. He knew trouble would come his way. Knew he would be faced with discrimination for being a foreigner and a peasant. What he didn’t know. Didn’t expect. Was that literal Chaos would come his way. That he and his mentor’s sister would be at the center of world ending trouble. Or that he would fall in love with his mentor’s sister and face more than discrimination; but the jealousy of Nozel Silva who loved the same woman he did.

Please remember this fic is rated mature and has warnings of violence, abuse, sexual tension, sexual behavior, and other possible triggers. For a full list of story tags please check the fics AO3 (link to that at the top of my tumblrs homepage).

Doing a double update this week for two reasons. One of which is because I’m really excited to share chapter 101. A LOT will be going down next chapter.

Chapter 100

Yami rubbed his eyes, tired from the late night spent in Jax’s office. The secret meeting had felt like it would never end, everyone talking and theorizing about all they had learned. Yami could’ve kissed Greywright when the Commander called an end to it saying it was getting them nowhere. Exhausted from the long day and troubled sleep of the night before, Yami couldn’t have agreed more. The meetings talk had devolved into a mess of words that had left his mind fogged and dizzy.

Having told Jax he would fill Bran in on the rest in the morning, Yami had taken the younger man out for a ride to do exactly that. Jax hadn’t been happy. The Captain was protective of his squad and didn’t like another member being brought in and endangered by all this. Jax hadn’t been much happier about Yami going out for a ride either; but had relented now knowing the cause of Yami’s added aggression, and wanting to help in away way he could.

Back from their ride, Yami latched the gate behind Pilfer. “Any questions?”

“Too many.” Bran stepped back from No Name’s closed kennel. After hearing the whole of it all, his mind was even more fried than it had been after last nights meeting.

“Any questions I can answer.” Yami clarified.

Bran thought a moment, nothing and everything flipping through his mind at once. He shook his head. “None that I can formulate or think of now.”

Yami nodded, understanding. If Bran hadn’t been overwhelmed from sitting in on last nights meeting, he certainly was now. “If you do have any don’t go bugging Teris or Jax.”

“Does that mean I come to you?” Bran asked, a little too eagerly.

Yami nearly said no; but he was the one who had brought Bran in on this. He was responsible for the kid now. As if he hadn’t felt responsible enough for Bran before, what with being Vice Captain and the way Bran looked up to him.

Giving a nod, Yami grumbled. “So long as you aren’t a nuisance.”

“I won’t be.” Bran promised.

“I know it was said last night and I stared with it. But you really can’t tell anyone. Family. Friends. Sir Jorah. Anyone.”

“I know. I won’t.”

Thinking of how poorly he and Teris had masked their own knowledge about Ellara when faced with the Advisor a few weeks ago, Yami told. “And no letting on that you know. So stay well away from Olsen, Iban, and Ellara if you can’t act dumb.”

Before Yami could say that he should stay away from Iban and Ellara regardless, Bran told.

“I can act dumb! I’m real good at it.” Bran grimaced.

Yami chuckled and turned to the path that led up to the house. “Come on. Let’s get inside. I’m hungry.”

100.2

Jon turned the corner to see a squad member leading Jax down the hall.

“On your way to see Captain Julius, Captain?” Jon questioned.

Jax turned, his escort doing the same.

“I’ll take Captain Jax, Fragil. I’m on my way there anyway.”

Fragil nodded and left the two men, going about her business.

Pulling up beside Jax, Jon utterly softly. “You all must’ve learned something really important or disturbing last night. I woke up early this morning to find Captain Julius in his study surround by books. Don’t think he ever went to bed.”

“I didn’t go to bed either.” Jax yawned. “And it was both important and disturbing. How are things with Kess?”

“You say you learned something important and disturbing enough that you and Captain Julius didn’t go to sleep, yet are asking me about the Silver Eagles Captain?”

“No. I’m asking about your new betrothed who just so happens to be the Silver Eagles Captain.” At Jon’s look, Jax shrugged. “What? Someone elses troubles help take my mind off mine.”

“What makes you think the engagement is troubled? And how did you hear of it? We were only just betrothed yesterday afternoon.” Jon’s eyes narrowed. “Have you and my Captain been gossiping again?”

Jax smirked. “News like this travels faster than Wild Fire in a windstorm. So, are congratulations or sympathies an order?”

Jon gritted his teeth and opened his Captain's private study door.

“Stop!” Julius spun around, hand outstretched.

Jax stopped in mid-step.

Julius quickly created a time sphere for all inanimate objects in the room, freezing them in place. “Alright. It’s safe now.”

“Are you sure about that? Julius, what…” Jax slowly stepped inside, concerned eyes looking about the room.

Jon followed in the Black Bulls Captain's wake. He quickly closed the door behind, not wanting any servants or squad members who might pass to see the manic mess. And it was a mess. Books were piled as high as a man was tall. Countless tomes laid strewn open over each other, covering every surface from tables to chairs to the backs and arms of a sofa. There were even a couple books precariously balanced on a pot, crushing some poor plant. But it was the scrolls and loose leaf papers that really made the scene. They were scattered everywhere. Apparently out of room Julius had begun laying pages out on the floor. And when that wasn’t enough, he had taken to tacking things on the wall and pinning them to the curtains.

“Julius! What the--” Jax tripped over the curled part of a scroll, Julius’ spell making it immovable. The Black Bulls Captain cursed, taking several steps to steady himself.

“I had Marx transcribe what Bran overheard, and what the History of Chaos said about the portrait, along with what Teris read from Captain Shadow’s journal.” Julius said, as if that explained the state of his private study.

Jon looked between the two Captain's. “She was able to read it?”

Jax frowned. He was going to tell his friend that it still didn’t explain all this, but Julius spoke first.

“I can’t believe you let Teris keep Captain Shadow’s journal.” Julius said, neither man acknowledging Jon’s question.

Jax shrugged a shoulder. “Seemed reasonable since she’s the only one who can read the hidden message.”

Reasonable as it was, Julius wasn’t having it. “But you know how she is. What if she--”

“Became obsessed and stayed awake all night, littering the floor with paper and pinning things to the walls?” Jax cut in over his friend, looking pointedly around the room.

“I know about the journal you found.” Julius said, reasoning his behavior.

Jax made a face, feeling both guilty and grateful he hadn’t been able to tell Yami about the journal two days ago when Yami had called him out on holding a secret. “I’m going to tell them.”

“You can’t. Teris will--”

“Do the same as you and make a mess of the general study at my base?” Jax questioned over Julius. “Maybe. But we promised those two no more secrets. More than that, Teris and Yami have the History of Chaos. After what we learned last night. Given what you and Greywright came to suppose after I found that journal Iban told me about… What if you and Greywright are right?”

Julius’ eyebrows pulled together. He didn’t like Jax thinking he was right. He didn’t want to be right. It had been a crazy theory at the time. It was still a crazy thought. Just because what they had learned last night further pointed to such a possibility didn’t make the idea any less insane. But given everything else; talk of Chaos and primordial forces, and crazy zealots who wanted to end everything to start a new beginning. Was the notion that they were dealing with someone that old really that insane?

Sighing, Julius relented. “Fine. But at least wait a couple days. Give them tomorrow off to relax and unwind. They’ll need it.”

100.3

Ready for a nap after a hearty lunch, Yami entered Teris’ makeshift office. He shook his head, seeing her bent over Captain Shadow’s journal exactly as he figured she would be. “You gonna obsess over that thing all day?”

“I’m rereading, not obsessing.” Teris muttered, without lifting her head.

“What obsessive freaks like you and Julius call rereading. Normal folk call obsessing.” Yami teased.

“You’re far from normal, Sukehiro.”

Yami smirked, hearing the smile in her voice. He pushed aside the journal Jax should've taken away from her last night and set a plate of food in front of her.

“Hey!” Teris complained, reaching for the diary. Seeing the food, her brows furrowed. “What’s this?”

Yami leaned back against the table. “What’s it look like?”

“Lunch.” Teris’ eyes widened. “It’s lunch time?”

“Past.” Yami crossed his arms and stared down at her. “See what I mean about obsessing?”

Teris’ stomach grumbled. She blushed.

Chuckling, Yami encouraged. “Dig in.”

“Thanks.”

Yami kissed her head, hand smoothing her hair. “I’m gonna take a nap. If you’re not at the table for supper, I’m coming in here and burning that thing.”

“You wouldn’t.” Teris said with certainty.

Yami righted, hand falling to his side. “Try me.”

Feeling less certain, Teris turned in her seat to look at him. Finding his expression void of taunting or humor, she complained. “You’re terrible.”

A small grin cracked Yami’s somewhat stern expression. “Yet you choose to be with me. What’s that say about you?”

“That I’m either a fool or glutton for punishment.” Teris half grumbled, half played.

“Well I know you’re no fool. As for punishment...” Yami’s eyes raked over her, crooked smile growing. “The only punishment I’d ever give would be pleasurable for the both of us.”

100.3.2

Yami closed the door to Teris’ makeshift office feeling a light-hearted ease despite all they’d learned last night. After teasing Teris like that and seeing her beautiful blush, how could he not? Teris was capable of making all his troubles disappear with a single smile. She--

Yami’s footsteps stopped as he passed the narrow door of the servants stairs. “I told you to stay away from Teris. What are you doing sulking around her?”

“I’m not here for Teris. Why do you think I let you sense my presence?” Iban stepped out of the dark opening that led down to his lab.

Yami turned, watching the Blood Mage appear out of the enclosed stairwell.

Iban looked Yami over and tisked. “You really are having a time of it aren’t you?”

“A time of what?” Yami asked. Even without Bran having overheard the conversation between Iban and Ellara, it was always better to play dumb and hope Iban would give further information for free.

Iban stalked closer. “You don’t have to pretend with me, Vice Captain. I can help.”

Yami would’ve rested his hand on the hilt of his katana; but he rarely carried the weapon around the house. Instead he placed a hand on his left hip. “I already told you never to mention that dark magic ritual of yours to me again.”

“I am not speaking of the communicative dreams with the page of Chaos. I am speaking about the trouble you are currently having with the Darkness building within you. ” Iban said.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Creepy.”

“So that dark, consuming pull I feel is not beginning to effect your temper?” Iban questioned. “At first I thought it was simply because you have such a short temper as it is. But I was wrong. The force within you is greater.”

“Greater?”

“Greater than the Light that is within--”

Yami snarled, daring Iban to say Teris’ name.

Iban smiled and went on. “I think the Darkness within you is far greater than Alowishus Spade could have ever imagined.”

“But you can help.” Yami supplied with a huff.

Iban gave a single nod.

Yami’s lip twitched in another sneer. “You wanna help? Tell me about this Darkness that’s supposedly building inside me. Way is it so much stronger? What do the Agents of Chaos want with it? What do they have planned for the Winter Solstice?”

“Sorry, Vice Captain. Such answers are far too costly.”

If it weren’t for what Bran had overheard, Yami would've thought Iban was referring to the price it would’ve cost him. But now he knew otherwise. Alowishus Spade had forced Iban into some sort of vow of silence; and the the cost the Blood Mage was referring to was the cost to lives of Iban’s family.

“There’s people working on it. I don’t need your help.” Yami gruffed.

“Who? Captain Jax and Commander Greywright?” Iban’s eyes glimmered in the dim hall light. “Our Captain and Knights Commander are highly capable men. But this is so far from their field of expertise. No doubt that is why the Captain has not told you of the assistance I gave him several weeks back. Because Captain Jax has deferred to Captain Julius. And the Azure Deers Captain is overly protective of his little sister, and protege.”

Yami’s eyes narrowed wondering what he was talking about.

“No doubt you mean Captain Julius and Senior Investigations Mage Marx are working on it.” Iban went on. “Such great scholarly minds might be able to find something that may be of assistance. But will they find it in time? And will it help enough? I can feel the force seeping from your seams. It is like the pressure of an oncoming storm. Ready to burst and wash us away at any moment.” He tilted his head, staring Yami in the eye. “I wonder which you will do first. Kill everything in sight, including your friends. Or head straight to Teris to--” His words cut off in a gurgle.

Hand around Iban’s throat, Yami growled. “Say her name again and I’ll end you.”

“I—be—lieve—oo.” Iban choked.

It was a fight for Yami to force his hand to release the Blood Mage. He stepped back, corded muscles trembling with bridled energy. Never had he moved so fast without mana skin. He could have killed Iban. He had wanted to kill him. The only thing that had stopped him was a small lingering voice of reason. And that voice was quickly fading. Iban was right. He would soon lose control to the force inside him. He had to get a handle on this or else…

Yami looked down the hallway toward Teris’ makeshift office. He could sense her mana as bright as any ships warning beacon. Never before had he worried at how her mana called to him, but he started to now.

Regaining his breath, Iban followed Yami’s gaze. “She may be able to stop you. Call you back as she did once before. But do you really want to put her through that? To take the chance that she will be unable to? That you will devour her and destroy everything in sight?”

“I don’t want your help.” Yami rumbled.

Iban heard the conflict in his voice. “This one will not cost you, Vice Captain. After all it is a form of self preservation.”

Tempted as Yami was, there was one thing stopping him. “No doubt it entails black magic.”

“Yes.” Iban admitted. “It is unavoidable. After all it is black magic that is causing this. Or have you deluded yourself into believing that things Alowishus Spade is doing, including the rituals he put her through and has in store for you, is nothing but benign sanctioned magic.”

Yami glared and told again. “I don’t want or need your help.”

“I admire a man who doesn’t want to dabble in black magic.”

Yami looked skeptically at Iban.

“What? I do.” Iban exhaled, slowly. “That said. In this instance. You either get your hands dirty with black magic. Or you will see them soaked with blood.”

“You would like that, wouldn’t you?”

“What? Seeing you tainted by using black magic? Or seeing you stained in the blood of your friends?”

Yami ground his teeth, wishing Iban would stop calling such images to mind. “This force inside me is connected or part of my magic and mana, right? Why can’t I just use so much mana a day and stop it from overflowing?”

“That might work for a time.” Iban said.

Yami growled. Julius had given the same answer when Yami suggested it during last nights meeting.

“There is a mana source that could be of help. But I am fairly certain you would be even less likely to accept his assistance than you would mine.”

“Why?” Yami asked.

“Why Spade’s mana? He is Death. The father of Darkness.”

Yami almost ask how Alowishus Spade’s mana could be of help but it didn’t matter. Instead, he asked. “Why me? Teris didn’t have this problem.”

“Your counterpart is not a third seventh born son. Nor does she wield three types of magic from three different worlds. She is from this land. In tune to this lands magic. Her ties are deep. The roots of House Nova’s bloodline goes back further than the Clover Kingdom itself. The family one of the oldest this land has.”

Frowning, Yami shook his head. “I wield no magic from other worlds.”

“Do you not?” Iban questioned.

“My homeland has no magic.”

Iban sighed, annoyed at Yami’s small mindedness. “I am not here to convince you of your unique power, but to offer you a way to deal with the force growing inside you.”

“I said no.” Yami growled, wanting to pummel Iban till the answer got through his thick head.

“Very well. You know where to find me when you change your mind.”

Yami watched Iban turn back toward the servants stairwell, presumably to return his labs. A nagging worry made him call out in question. “What happens if we manage to stay out of the Agents of Chaos’ grasp and their sick ritual doesn’t go down? Do I stay like this? Does the force inside me continue to build until it takes over completely? Or will it just go back to normal?”

Iban looked over his shoulder wearing a crooked smirk. “It is both cute and sad that you think you have a chance of evading them. The man is Death. One would think that you would have grasped at least that by now. You cannot avoid Death, Yami Sukehiro. In the end, Death will always have its way.”

100.4

Olsen’s smile grew at the sound of rowdy banter coming from the dining hall. He heard Venice ask about tomorrows plans and something made him stop short. As a gentleman, Olsen made a point never to eavesdrop. Especially when a lady was talking. It didn’t matter that Venice's question might not be addressed to anyone in particular. Or that the rest of the squad was likely at the table making the conversation far from private. It was still unchivalrous.

Yet Olsen had no control over himself as he inched quietly closer, and listened in, eyes unfocused.

100.4.2

“I’m not sure.” Teris answered Venice's question.

“You should take the day off.” Jax encouraged from his seat.

Teris turned to the Captain. “Really?”

“Yeah. You both should.” Jax said, looking to Yami who sat to his left. He smiled, pleased Venice had given him a way to go about Julius’ ask without raising too much suspicion. The Azure Deers Captain had been right, of course. Whether he was going to tell Yami and Teris about the journal the day after tomorrow or not; his Vice Captain's needed a days break.

Yami’s eyes narrowed. Jax had managed to get the entire squad, save for Iban, two days off little less than a month ago for Vanessa’s birthday party. Encouraging them to take a day off so soon after that seemed suspect.

“What are you playing at?” Yami asked.

“Nothing!” Jax assured, his tone and expression affirming the answer for the lie it was.

Seated to Yami’s left, Tobin nudged him with an elbow. “Don’t go questioning an offer of a day off.”

Yami’s hand curled into a fist. He didn’t want to hit his friend; but these days there was a constant underlying urge to hit something. And, playful or not, Tobin’s nudge nearly had him doing so.

He noticed the way Iban watched him, gold eyes shining. Yami’s hand twitched wanting to wipe the smug, knowing smirk off the Blood Mage’s face. Swallowing, Yami forced his hand open. It didn’t matter if expending a sizable amount of mana wouldn’t work long term. He just needed something to help right now.

“Jack’s been bugging me about going over to the Green Mantis base for a day of sparring.” Yami eyed Tobin. “You game?”

“For squashing that gangly bug? Do you even have to ask?” Tobin grinned.

“That means Teris and I can have a girls day.” Venice enthused.

“It’s been far too long since we’ve had one of those.” Teris said, excited by the thought.

Looking at Venice over the rim of his cup, Jax said. “I find it amusing you and Tobin think you’re getting tomorrow off.”

Abril laughed at Venice's expression.

“Abril will cover for me.” Venice volunteered the other girl.

Abril laughed all the louder.

Jax shook his head. “She can’t. I let her and Bran have tomorrow off a week ago.”

Venice's head snapped to Abril. “What are you two doing?”

“Going to Raque to see Ricte.” Abril answered.

Bran glanced nervously at Gendry. While Gendry frowned at Abril.

“What happened to Ricte worked and couldn’t have any ol’ day off?” Teris asked, protective of Abril.

“Oh! I wanna go to Raque! I haven’t been in so long.” Venice whined.

Thinking Teris wouldn’t have much of a day off without her friend. Never mind that he didn’t want her going out alone. Jax sighed and told Venice. “Fine. You and Tobin can have the day off.”

“I don’t care about Tobin. I just want to go to Raque with Teris.” Venice said.

“Hey.” Tobin complained.

Venice looked at Teris. “You good with spending the day at Raque?”

“A day at the beach sounds grand.” Teris smiled.

“Almost as grand as Gendry and I kicking Jack and Tobin’s ass’s.” Yami said, in attempt at cheering Gendry.

“Hey!” Tobin complained again.

Rolling his eyes, Jax submitted to Yami’s sly addition of Gendry getting a day off. “So long as Iban and Olsen stick around in case a mission order comes in and actual work needs to be done.”

100.4.3

Eyes still unfocused, Olsen quietly exited the house. He created a cloud of water vapor and took to the air, having a sudden explicable and overwhelming need to see Ellara.

Comments are VERY MUCH appreciated and really make my day. Thank you to those who have left hearts. And a special THANK YOU to those who have recently commented or re-blogged. It really means a lot.

I’ve worried for a while that readers would have a hard time keeping everything with the Chaos plot straight given the long, slow draw of that plot and it seems a that worry has come to life. Below is a list of Alowishus’ past lives. If any of you would be interested in a list of chapter and scenes where the Chaos plot is prevalent please let me know, all it would take is a slight amendment to my personal fic notes.

Fin Spade – 1st life, son of Erin (who was Yurist's son) and Mira Spade; Fin was the one who stole the Future of Chaos out of labyrinth #297,353 only having it for a short time before Erin stole it back and "joined" it where it would be safe. Some years later Fin killed his father Erin at a placed known as the Dais.

Garo Belin – 2nd life, son of a middling merchant family; After starting to remember his past life as Fin and thinking he was going crazy, Garo went to the Dais (the place where the geyser labyrinth will eventually be, and currently is in fics timeline). There Garo found Erin Spade's skull and died doing the spell that put Erin’s soul in the skull.

?? – 3rd life; remembered 1st & 2nd lives when he was 10yrs. Collected Erin Spade’s skull that Garo spelled, and finally got some answers from Erin. Because of that he found a purpose that the other incarnations have worked toward and built upon. He's also the one who created what is now known as the Agents of Chaos; and is the one who was/is still called the "Master of Master's".

?? – 4th life

?? – 5th life

Everard Spade – 6th life; was Master of the Agents of Chaos; Captain Shadow killed him 3yrs before she was locked in the geyser labyrinth. Jax currently has his old journal thanks to Iban telling him where to look.

Alowishus Spade – 7th life, currently 380yrs; spent several adult years working on his own before rejoining the Agents of Chaos. Challenged and killed Alric (Iban's third great grandfather) for the right to be Master of the Agents of Chaos.

*Note: thanks to learning and using corpse magic, Alowishus is by FAR the longest lived of all his lives. His second longest life was his 1st incarnation Fin who lived 77yrs.

Next chapter snippet:

“We’ll sort that out later. For now surrender and come with me, and I will see no one gets harmed.”

“And who might you be?” Teris asked.

“Commander Fanzell.” Fanzell said.

It was then that Teris noticed the diamond on his grimoire.

#yami sukehiro #julius novachrono #Black Clover #light in the darkness

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that-boy-needs-therapy · 3 years

Text

Something Borrowed

Here's a link to the AO3 page, and below that will be the chapter if you prefer to read through tumblr!

Chapter 1: Deception

Summary: When the bonds of love breaks and you're willing to do anything to bring back your better half from the shadows of death, sometimes you do things that come back to bite you in the ass. Now the body of a dead man is possessed by the Devil's pawn, and making plans for a not-so-fun future. How long will it take for the people around him to realize the truth? And how long before it's too late to save the real Verek and stop Lucio's plot?

_____________________________________________________________

In the mind of someone, who, has lost their dearest love in a most horrible fashion- I must ask, what lengths would you go to in order to bring them back from the dead? What would you risk, and who would you hurt? Desperate times call for desperate measures, as some would say. But people die, that is the way.

Unless you intervene, that is.

Silence fell over the City, in all places but two; the Rowdy Raven, and the most dubious party with a fair few equally dubious attendees. The latter takes place in the palace- a grand place, riddled with gilded gates and grand windows of stained glass. Gold and silver and shining stone. The hour was late now, and the party in full swing. A masquerade in honor of the beloved Count Lucio. His birthday certainly being a time to celebrate, well and truly.

But the man himself lay dying in his bed, ill and weeping blood. It oozes from his red sclera and stains both skin and bed covers, his face gaunt and pale. Lucio sweats from his clammy brow and groans. He grows ever weaker in these last days. Long has he been kept alive- longer than most who contract the dreaded plague. But now the hour draws near, and weakened he is by this loathed illness. Tonight is his last chance, his cure. More will die should he live, and the part of him that still has coherence knows this.

But the Count fears nothing more than death itself, and the demonic clutches he so futilely flees from. Those that now sit in his court and taunt him so. But now is the time, and with little strength left in his body he takes part in that which he believes will save him.

And then Lucio finds himself betrayed.

Fire engulfs all that he sees, the room which he escapes from remaining so ominously pristine. His chambers which he enters burns with him, and he in his bed as he falls, screaming. The Count wakes later, ghostly in form and not quite as dead as he'd thought he was. And the Devil moves his latest pawn across the board. To the other side.

Verek sits in a chair hidden from view of the shop proper. The day is warm and the sun is bright. He sews, because that is something he enjoys. Yes. Master is leisure among a spot of pillows on the ground, reading and lounging with his familiar sitting pretty around the Magician's head. All is well, yes. And Verek sews.

His nerves get the better of him and Master notices, worry evident in his kind amethyst eyes. “Verek, are you okay?” They ask, tone careful and concerned. “You look pale.”

“Yes, Master,” And the Magician looks uncomfortable then, but Verek doesn't point it out. “I-I'm alright, just a bit hot I think.” And he is, the light prickling of sweat at his temples. “Maybe a nap, and some cooled sheets to lay under will help.”

And it does, eyes drifting closed as he burrows into the cold sheets. Chilled by Master's magic and a lesson on how to do it himself thrown in. A year it has been since he woke, without memory, in his Master's arms. Verek still has no memories, and his headaches sometimes grow worse. Master is despondent on those days, tending to him with sorrow in his gaze. Verek doesn't ask, though he wishes he did. Something tells him it isn't the time.

He falls asleep thinking on it.

His dreams shift and change in a way that he can't quite grasp onto any one concept, like his mind is trying to take him somewhere it can't reach. The same thing every time he sleeps.

Verek walks through the shifting landscape, following a feeling he can't describe. He grows uneasy as he moves, but his feet keep dragging him forward. Silver eyes are the only thing he can make out ahead, alongside a peculiar, familiar? Necklace.

He tries to stop himself from getting closer, something foreboding wriggling in his chest. Something is wrong- this isn't a dream anymore. He knows those eyes but- where? Who? The young man takes too long thinking on it, now inches from the violent gaze. Those eyes stare into his very soul and fear grips at Verek's heart. Why, why?

“Goodnight” A voice says, and suddenly all is black. Then a blink, and red architecture fills his vision.

Someone else wakes in his body.

A fever is caught as he rests and he sleeps for days, tended to by a frantic Asra and a reluctant Muriel. The large man still can't quite accept that this is really, truly the Verek he and the magician knew for years. A ghost, he must be. A figment of both their desperate imaginations. He wanted to believe. He did. But..

Cool water is replaced into the near-empty bowl that Asra hands him, and is handed back in turn. The white-haired magician dips a warming rag into the water and rings it with shaking hands. Amethyst eyes are rimmed with sleepless bags and reddened skin. His crying lasts for hours each day as they tend to the fallen Verek. The stranger with Verek's face. Muriel just... but he says nothing, that small bit of hope inside him just strong enough to quiet him. Maybe, just maybe he's wrong. He hopes he is. He otherwise pretends that he isn't. "Is his fever getting any better, Asra?" Muriel asks his friend, getting a small nod. Their eyes are still red and brow still creased, but his gaze betrays the relief he feels at Verek's slight improvement.

"Yes. Yes but only barely, and I-" Dark shoulders hunch, and the smaller body shakes. "-I just need to focus. Whatever is causing the fever- I'm here this time." A shaky sigh, and they regain his composure. "I'm here this time."

Muriel, having grown quite anxious in the small space that is the upper level of the shop over the past few days, sits carefully in a corner where Inanna has taken refuge today. She yawns and stretches, dark fur mussed up by her heavy napping. Muriel smiles at the sight, and she only wuffles at him in return. The man takes the moment to look Asra's direction, directing Inanna to follow his gaze. She can sense the turmoil rolling off the magician in waves almost immediately and turns her attentions onto him. Rubbing against them and digging her head under his one dry, warm free hand. Asra accepts the comfort for what it is and pets her absentmindedly, though all his real focus is on keeping the fever down.

Angry as he is.... Julian would be able to help if he were here. But no, they shake their head and purge the thought from their mind. He didn't need Julian. Not after last time. Asra can do this without him, better even! And as he says that a groan sounds through the quiet room, and the mood shifts immediately. Muriel nearly lurches from his position on the floor and, with one glance at the waking figure in the bed, exits the room with Inanna in tow. Asra doesn't blame him, really. His own mind remains wholly focused on Verek, watching as yellow eyes open and stare around the room.

The gaze doesn't meet him right away, and an odd smile passes his face before he notices the other in the room. There is a pause, then another smile. This one seems more like Verek, and Asra's relief gives way to joy. He grasps Verek's hand like it is his only lifeline, and Verek grasps back in return. Reassuring and warm. His gaze is groggy, as to be expected upon waking from a fevered deep sleep, but his eyes are gentle.

"Did I miss anything?"

#Body Snatcher AU #Possession AU #Possession #This will contain angst and fluff #Warnings will be added as needed or as requested #if my writing for a particular character seems off or ooc at any point do NOT be afraid to let me know!#I can make needed edits without making drastic changes plot wise #Won't be a bother for me at all I promise #The Arcana #The Arcana Fanfic

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ripley95 · 4 years

Text

Echoes of Old Embers

Chapter 11

Pairing: F!Shepard/Kaidan Alenko

Rating: T

Chapter length: 3.3K

Story Synopsis:

After surviving the war, one of Shepard’s biggest regrets was rejecting Kaidan at Apollo’s. Fate has a way of bringing Jane and Kaidan back into each other’s lives. A misunderstanding with his family makes Kaidan and Shepard relive old history and question where they stand.

Link to Chapter 1 on AO3

Chapter Synopsis:

The day of Libby’s wedding has finally arrived. The misunderstandings about her supposed relationship with Kaidan is really getting to her. She questions if they’re starting to get to Kaidan too.

Read to Chapter 11 on AO3

Tumblr Links:

Read the chapter here below the cut:

The morning of the wedding was finally here. Luckily, Shepard had a much more restful sleep than the previous night. She made matters so much worse in pretty much every way that she could, that she had almost expected to have another sleepless night being tormented by the memories of it. She figured the exhaustion from not getting any sleep the night before probably helped on that front at least, and she was grateful for it now. It would be a long day going through all of the celebration, and she didn’t particularly want to feel like she needed a nap in the middle of it all.

She didn’t have much of a chance to see Kaidan since their breakfast the previous day. Both of them were busy with their individual tasks to help prepare everything. Kaidan had mowed the lawn and cleaned up the most visible part of the orchard. When he had finished with that, Ada got him to hang lights along the treeline and in the barn where the reception would be. Meanwhile, Ada had kept Shepard busy preparing more food for the events today. Part of which, she was glad to have Matt’s help with so she could apologise for pulling one over on him. It was a pleasant day, but busy. They barely had enough time to eat dinner before crashing to bed. At least it made their night routine a little less awkward, both exhausted enough to fall asleep almost immediately.

They already had a quick breakfast with the entire family this morning. Libby shared the news that Derek landed safely at his friend’s house the previous night. He was opting to uphold the tradition of not seeing each other on the day of the wedding. Everyone had rushed through their breakfasts to help with last-minute tasks. Everything had come together nicely and it was finally that time in the day that everyone was meant to be getting dressed up and ready.

Shepard was generally the type to go without makeup or stick to the basics in her everyday life, but as per Maisie and Raiya’s advice, today she was going all out. She borrowed a nice dress from Raiya. Luckily they were the same size, because she foolishly realised that she hadn’t brought anything to wear. Not that it would have mattered if she had remembered, since everything she owned was Alliance or N7 provision. Nothing tasteful for a wedding other than a dress that advertised her N7 status, which wouldn’t have been helpful with her trying to blend in. So, she was grateful that one of Kaidan’s sisters was the same size as her and that Raiya was willing to let her borrow something. Ada had let her borrow a necklace and some earrings that went well with the dress. She also put on the most tasteful makeup that she knew how to do. As she was putting on the final touches, she realised that she was pretty pleased with the outcome. She really didn’t look like herself. At least not to her. It was a rather uncharacteristic look on her to be so dressed up, but she figured it served its purpose well. She didn’t think anyone would recognize her like this. Not easily anyway, which was precisely what she wanted.

This whole time, she was getting ready in Kaidan’s bathroom. She was thankful for it, not having to worry about intruding on his sisters using all of the other ones to prepare, but it meant that Kaidan was also getting ready just beyond the door. She could picture him putting on a nice suit and tying up a tie. She had never seen him in formal attire other than his blues and she already knew how nicely he filled those out. It made her wish she could be the one tying his tie. She wished they were both giving their opinions on clothes as they picked them out together as they got ready in the same room.

She huffed out a sigh of frustration. This trip was getting to her. She gave herself one last look in the mirror, pleased with how she looked, before walking to the door. She hesitated to open it, scared to potentially be walking in on Kaidan in the middle of getting dressed. She knocked lightly to make sure it was okay. It felt strange doing so. You don’t typically knock from the inside of a bathroom. Still, she’d rather do that than cause even more awkward situations between the two of them.

“It’s okay, you can come out, Jane,” she heard him say from the other side.

She walked out cautiously nonetheless, and saw him sitting on the edge of the bed, already waiting for her for some time by the look of it. He stood up to greet her in a very gentleman-like manner and eyed her from head to toe, tastefully. It felt like he was doing it more out of curiosity and wonder at how different she looked, rather than revelling in her new appearance. She couldn’t help herself from doing the same, admiring how nice he looked in a suit. His blues made him look so distinguished, but his suit had the added nicety of this being casual. Like they were just enjoying their lives like ordinary people. Wishful thinking.

She lost focus with her eyes on his lapels, imagining that if things were different, she would have gone over there and grabbed him by them and gently pulled him into a soft kiss. She would have straightened out his tie, just for a chance to be closer to him for even a moment, because he’s done a perfect job of it all by himself. They would have smiled at each other, looking forward to a day full of celebration. She supposed there was no reason she couldn’t still do that last one. The thought of it finally let her notice that she was staring, lost in thought at what could have been, so she did just that and smiled at him.

“You clean up nicely,” she said.

He let out a chuckle. “You’re not so bad, yourself,” he said with a sincere smile.

“Thanks,” she muttered, with a forced smile. She was never good at accepting compliments. “So, did you get a chance to talk to Libby yesterday?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “You were right. She wasn’t mad, but I think she appreciated me apologising all the same. It was a good heart-to-heart, and I think it helped her feel better. It was good for us.”

“Sounds like it,” Shepard said with a genuine smile.

“She uh… She even asked me to walk her down the aisle. Well, me and mom. I wasn’t really expecting that. I love her, but we weren’t the closest, growing up. I wasn’t even sure she wanted anyone to do it. She said she had been questioning it for a long time, but she hadn’t even gotten the chance to ask dad. She didn’t want to be thinking about missed opportunities and lost chances the whole time she’s actually walking down the aisle. It meant a lot to me that she asked.”

Shepard offered a solemn smile, knowing that as lovely as that was, it was at the expense of Kaidan taking his father’s place. She was glad that he’d get to be doing that for her and that they had each other while trying to navigate this new life without him. She figured this must be very bittersweet for him, remembering their conversation the previous. This was just more of that void that Kaidan was now filling for the rest of his family, taking the place of someone else. Of course Kaidan would love having an offer like that and would do anything to make his sister feel loved on her wedding day, but she imagined this must have hurt him a bit too.

“That’s really sweet, Kaidan. How do you feel about it?”

“Uh, better than I thought I would, actually.” He said it with a kind of hesitance, knowing that those words meant he was finally addressing his grief which was a big step, but also with a genuine and soft smile. “I don’t know that I could have said that if you hadn’t been here,” he admitted quietly.

“Then I’m glad I came,” she said, matching his smile.

Kaidan nodded at that appreciatively. “But anyway, I think things will be getting under way soon. We should probably go down. I think Derek’s here now, so I can introduce you. He’s probably been waiting to meet you. We can mingle a bit before the ceremony starts and then I can show you where you can sit since I’ll have to come back here and wait with Libby.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Shepard said.

Kaidan nodded, prompting them to leave the room and make their way out to the orchard where guests had already started gathering. In lieu of a band, they had a drone at the back of the seating area playing soft music that reminded her of Glyph. A beautiful arch was set up right in front of the trees in the orchard, and the mountains were visible beyond them, creating a spectacular view for the guests. It was a lovely setup. Once again, Shepard marvelled at how perfect it all was. A fantastic view with sentimental meaning. She couldn’t think of a better place for them to be declaring their love for each other.

As they made their way through the crowd, a few people stopped Kaidan here and there. All of them said some variation of “Finally brought someone home, eh?” Or “There’s going to be a lot of disappointed people out on the dancefloor this evening.” It did nothing to quell her feelings of regret about the confusion. If she didn’t know any better, Kaidan even seemed a little phased by it. She knew he wasn’t about to be challenging anyone on their misconceptions today, though. He didn’t want to add drama or make today about him, so he just smiled and nodded before moving on to other people, but she couldn’t help but notice a solemness about him now that wasn’t there before.

Finally, they got up closer to the seating area and a man in a tuxedo excitedly came up to them.

“Hey, Derek,” Kaidan said, shaking the man’s hand. “It’s good to see you again.”

“Oh, hey, same to you,” he said enthusiastically, pulling Kaidan in for a hug.

As Kaidan and Derek relinquished their hold, Shepard gave Derek a smile, happy to finally meet the man of the hour.

“Hi, Derek. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you,” Shepard said, offering her hand to shake with a genuine smile.

Derek had already given her a quick examination as he was walking over, but he seemed to be a bit starstruck as she spoke to him. He was staring at her wide-eyed, and mouth slightly agape.

“Pleasure to finally meet me? Are you kidding? Pleasure to meet you, Commander,” he said, giving a salute, prompting Shepard to take her hand back, and look around the crowd. Luckily no one really seemed to notice or think much of it.

“Hey, you might want to keep your voice down there, Derek. We’re kind of trying to keep her identity under wraps so there isn’t pandemonium during your wedding,” Kaidan said.

“Right, right,” he muttered out, and ended the salute without a return from Shepard. “Libby warned me and everything. I don’t know what came over me. I mean, Commander Shepard,” he said her name and title in a whisper this time, “here. At my wedding. I can just hardly believe it, you know? You were on the recruitment posters when I finally ended up joining the Alliance. We heard about you all the time throughout the war. About everything you were doing for us.”

Shepard smiled at that, already well aware of the effects she had on people, not really blaming Derek for his reaction. “You know Kaidan was there, too. It’s not like I worked alone.”

“Oh yeah, of course. I guess I just think of Kaidan as family already, so it’s not quite as shocking. Sorry if I’m coming off too strong or anything, it’s just that you’re a bit larger than life. It’s hard to imagine that you’re really here.”

“It’s okay, I get it,” she said, compassionately enough, understanding that he was thrown for a loop and probably already nervous for the day’s events. “But hey, seriously, feel free to call me Jane from now on unless I end up seeing you in some kind of official capacity at work. While we’re here, though, don’t think of me as a superior officer or anything.”

“Right, yeah,” he said nodding, almost apologetically. “Well, it’s nice to get to know the real you,” he said, extending his hand for a slightly more personal greeting after finally calming down.

“You too,” she said with a smile, accepting his hand to shake it. “And congratulations, Derek.”

“Thanks. That really means a lot to me,” he said with a smile. “And hey! Maybe I’ll be getting to call you family soon too, eh?” he said, elbowing Kaidan with a devilish grin. “Wouldn’t that be something?”

It seems as though Libby probably bought into the misunderstanding now too, if Derek’s reaction was anything to go by. Perfect. They both just smiled at him without saying anything on the matter.

“But anyway, the ceremony should start soon, and there are other people I want to greet before that. I’m so glad you could both make it,” he said, genuinely beaming as he left to go talk to other people.

Kaidan smirked and let out a ‘hrmph,’ which made Shepard look at him. “He’s a great guy, but a little overexcitable.”

Shepard nodded kindly, not judging him for it. “Nothing wrong with a little enthusiasm,” she said with a faint curve to her lips. “Not a quality that a lot of soldiers have anymore. I’m glad that’s not something that was taken away from him throughout the war. I hope he never loses it.”

Kaidan nodded, understanding the sentiment well. “Yeah, me too. He’s a good guy. He really loves Libby. I think he’s good for her too. She’s too serious.”

“Too serious?” Shepard said coyly, with an entertained smile, noticing a general similarity between most of the Alenkos. Maisie was perhaps the only exception she could see so far.

Kaidan looked at her and let out a chuckle. “Yeah, yeah. I know I can be serious too, but we’re not talking about me here,” he said with a smile. “I think he lightens her up a bit, and I think that’s exactly what she needs. Not that I’m criticising her now or anything, it’s just that I think Derek provides something for her that she’s been missing all her life. The way they look when they’re together,” Kaidan said, shaking his head fondly. “I’ve never seen her so happy. Like all of her burdens have been lifted off of her shoulders or something.”

Shepard looked somewhat dejectedly towards the ground, knowing precisely the feeling that he was referring to, because there was a time that Kaidan had provided exactly that for her. Not even just on the SR-1 when they were actually together, but also during the Reaper War, too. Even though they weren’t together then, he still provided that for her. He was good at making her feel less alone, having someone else to confide in who understood the things she was dealing with. It was one of the things she really missed about just being around him.

“Yeah,” she huffed out. “It’s not easy to find something like that,” she said quietly.

“No. It’s not,” he said. Shepard couldn’t help but hear a hint of sadness behind his words. She didn’t have it in her to look at him for any kind of confirmation.

Before they knew it, Derek came bouncing back through the crowd and tapped Kaidan on the shoulder. “All right, it’s almost showtime!” he said, with one of the widest grins Shepard had ever seen.

“You ready for this?” Kaidan asked.

“I can’t wait,” he said genuinely. His joy was palpable, bringing Kaidan in for another hug.

“Welcome to the family, Derek.”

“Well, she hasn’t said yes yet,” Derek said, releasing them both from the hug, still with a massive grin on his face.

“She will,” Kaidan said with a smile.

“I know. Thanks, man,” he said before he walked down the aisle with his parents who gave him their own hug before taking his place by the altar.

The officiant announced everyone to take their seats as the ceremony was about to begin.

“I guess that’s my cue to go back to the house for Libby. You can take any seat in the front row,” he said, pointing to Libby’s side of the seating arrangements.

“Okay,” she said with a nod. “See you in a minute, then.”

He nodded at her and turned to walk back to the house. Shepard stood there awkwardly, not entirely sure what she was feeling. She didn’t like the sight of him walking away. She knew she was being dramatic. All he was doing was going to get Libby, but the more time went on, she realised the closer she was getting to actually saying goodbye to him. Maybe it wasn’t the worst thing. It’s practically what she kept telling herself she wanted after all. But it hurt. The reality of him potentially not being in her life anymore was starting to sink in, and she didn’t like the feeling. Not wanting to be awkward about standing in the aisle, she finally turned to take a seat, making sure to leave space for Kaidan and his mother.

After everyone settled, the drone began playing the wedding march. The bridesmaids and groomsmen started coming out. First, she noticed a couple of Libby’s friends that she hadn’t had the chance to meet, followed by Maisie and Raiya. Shepard offered each of them a smile, happy to be able to watch the celebration, even with her own sad and confused feelings muddying how she felt on the inside.

Immediately after that, Libby started walking down the aisle, Ada on one side of her and Kaidan on the other, looking incredibly proud and happy. Kaidan and Ada both gave her a hug before they came to sit down next to Shepard.

Jane and Kaidan shared a glance and a smile with each other before they turned towards the ceremony.

It went by in a blur. Libby and Derek said their vows and made their commitment to each other, and Shepard was sad once again. Marriage had never necessarily been important to her, but the one person who had ever gotten her wondering whether she might be up in a place like that someday was Kaidan. The man sitting right beside her, yet somehow never felt more beyond her grasp, knowing she would be saying goodbye to him soon enough.

As they finished off with a kiss and were declared husband and wife, walking back down the aisle, it all felt very bittersweet to Shepard. She smiled and clapped, but it was all a farce.

Everything surrounding Kaidan was making it difficult for her to be in the moment and be happy for Libby. She couldn’t imagine Kaidan not being a part of her life in some capacity, but it was becoming too painful to contemplate going on like this anymore. Everything here just served as a reminder to what she couldn’t have.

There would be alcohol at the party. Maybe that would make her feel better. And if not, ‘it would all be over soon.’

#f!Shenko #f!Shepard/Kaidan Alenko #f!Shepard #kaidan alenko #Mass Effect #fanfiction #mass effect fanfiction #mini slow burn #friends to lovers #angst #my writing #my fic on tumblr

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beatricethecat2 · 4 years

Text

if/then (2.0) - 25

Sorry this has taken ages to finish, but I needed extra time to shape it into a form that made sense. Also, the world itself continues to astound in how absurd it’s being, so everything is taking it's time to make sense again (or not). Back to this chapter, there's a little review built in so I won’t bother with it here. Also, I’m excited to confidently say there is one more chapter of this (!) and then it’s done! One more big plot point to cover, and then they can finally be happy together. Thanks for still reading! And as always, typos are all mine, I’ll fix them later (edited 12/19). For previous chapters, look in my archive or on AO3 (look up beatricethecat) since Tumblr hates links these days. Also, more notes at the end.

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"I'm hungry," Christina says.

"Me, too," Myka agrees.

"I saw sandwiches in the lobby."

"We'll get some after we meet whoever's here."

Myka knocks on a door, one she assumes an undercover Interpol officer is waiting behind, at the hotel where Morgana dropped them off. Myka takes hold of Christina's hand as the peephole lifts and the handle clicks.

"Get in here!" a voice bellows as the door swings open.

"Aunt Claudia!" Christina yanks her hand free and runs in, nearly toppling Claudia over as she tackles her.

Claudia swings Christina around, spinning them further into the room.

Myka can hardly believe her eyes. A flutter of hope rises in her chest for the first time in ages.

Claudia lifts Christina's arms above her head and wiggles them. "You're all stretched out! What happened?"

"I grew a bunch!" Christina yelps, then giggles, the sound harkening back to their less fraught days in New York.

"Man, you got heavy, too," Claudia says, lifting Christina off the floor as she scoops her into another hug.

Myka drags their bags in and closes the door, watching from the entryway as Christina steps back and twirls for Claudia.

"What'd H.G. feed this kid?"

"Maybe it's the mountain air," Myka says.

"Huh. You were right?"

"Uh-huh. Nobody filled you in?"

"Negative. All Our Lady of Brevity said was to hightail it here."

"We’ve got so much to tell you." Myka says, stepping closer to Claudia, offering herself up for a hug that Claudia readily accepts. "I'm really, really glad you're here."

"Damnit, H.G.!" Claudia snarls quietly, so as not to wake a post-lunch, napping Christina. "All those years, right under my nose…" Her eyes go distant while processing Myka's revelations as if lost in transgressions of the past. "But getting deported on purpose? Dude, I just can't." She shakes her head and frowns.

"Be mad later, because we need to fix this, fast. She needs her mother back." Myka glances at Christina.

"Can't Babezilla wave a magic wand and tell the cops it's above their pay grade?"

"I already asked. She can't trust them. And if she outs herself, her whole operation might crumble."

"Who cares? We just want H.G. back."

"It could make things worse for us, because somehow that's possible," Myka says. "We want Helena cleared, so we need Morgana as an ally. Remember how well it went when we were on our own?"

Claudia's shoulders sag. "So, we're screwed either way."

"Not if we can prove Helena and I were caught in the crossfire of something larger."

"Ok!" Claudia claps hands together and rubs them back and forth. "How do we that?"

"I don't know."

"Let's lay out the facts," Claudia says, leaning back in her chair. "H.G. gets deported. Then Mrs. F. drops the bomb that you're being sacrificed to keep MacPherson in jail. H.G.'s forced to feed you info, but her hands are tied otherwise. So she calls the Ice Queen and is like, 'Bro, help me, Mrs. Frederic's being sketchy as hell.' They hatch a plan to smack Mrs. F on the knuckles and cross their fingers it will work."

"That's…weirdly accurate."

"If H.G. hadn't butted in, what would have happened?"

"According to Morgana, I'd be charged with collusion, and Theodora would be implicated as the instigator. She believes Mrs. Frederic's framing Theodora."

"Because Mrs. F. says she did it as a favor for Vanessa, who was doing a favor for Theodora, who made a back-door deal with MacPherson?"

"In theory, yes. That's what Mrs. Frederic would lead the police to believe."

"But I thought Mrs. F and Theodora were best buds? Why would she double-cross her?"

"To gain immunity and kill McPherson's appeal. She'll out him as the mastermind behind the sale. And who knows what other dirt she has on him."

"So H.G. fudged that up all kinds of ways," Claudia says, lowering her voice as Christina shifts under the covers. Her brows push together, wheels turning furiously in her head. "Where's Morgana getting all this?"

"Lots of little things. Plus, she's had a year to piece it together. And that woman in Mrs. Frederic's office, Sally, is still feeding her information."

"Info Mrs. Frederic's feeding her?"

"Maybe? Good point."

"You need to talk to her."

"Sally?"

"No. Mrs. Frederic."

"How?"

"We'll figure it out." Claudia taps her laptop awake and starts typing.

"Hang on. Let me call before you do something illegal. Maybe I can get an appointment."

"Ha! Good luck," Claudia says, eyes never leaving her screen, hacking away as Myka dials.

At 8:30 AM sharp, Myka knocks on the gallery's door, Claudia's "You can do this!" pep talk on repeat in her head. Her initial letdown of, "Mrs. Frederic's booked until the end of the month," was, quite unbelievably, overturned an hour later by a callback from her assistant. But by then, they were plotting to crash tomorrow's lunch, as Claudia had already stolen Mrs. Frederic's schedule.

A security guard lets her in, and she follows him to the elevator. Her hands twist together as they wait, dread seeping in over confronting such a formidable woman. But this is the only way to get answers, and her resolve is true. Coaxing information out of people, especially such worldly ones, is not her strong point.

The guard knocks on Mrs. Frederic's door twice, then opens it. He pulls it closed after Myka enters.

"Good morning," Mrs. Frederic says, remaining seated behind her desk. As always, she's impeccably dressed, her grey tweed jacket accented by a string of white pearls, hair braided in thin strands lifted into an elegant bun. It's like she wakes up fully prepped, ready to bulldoze anything and everything in her path.

"G-Good morning," Myka says back, as evenly as possible, her stomach quivering as she braces for the conversation she has to have.

"Please sit." Mrs. Frederic motions to a chair in front of her.

Myka bumps into the arm as she circles around, then settles in, flashing what she hopes is a not-too-nervous smile.

"I'll be frank," Mrs. Frederic starts. "I know why you're here. I can't help you."

"Then why ask me to come?"

"You needed to hear it in person."

"You got me into this! We had meetings and emails and phone calls. You sent me to the sale. You sent me to Helena's in Wales! There's a paper trail."

"Was my name listed anywhere?"

"I..." Myka thinks back, sifting through scores of information. "... don't know. But I'll prove it, somehow." Myka's lips pinch into a thin line, visualizing her resolve. She's gotten this far, and she's not leaving until she gets answers.

"Myka," Mrs. Frederic says, her tone softening ever so slightly. "You can't fix this. The sooner you accept that, the better. You must let it play out."

"So Helena and I both go to jail? What about her kid?"

"Helena was explicitly told not to get involved. That's out of my hands. This may have been over by now if not for her—"

"May have. May have. That's not good enough." Myka's chest heaves as her nostrils flare; this is a brush off of epic proportions. "Why ruin us both just to frame Theodora?"

"Theodora?" Mrs. Frederic's brows shoot up, above the rims of her cat-eye glasses.

"I know you're framing her, saying she's the one I was working for, not you. That the painting was hers."

"Ha!" Mrs. Frederic barks, lips curling up in amusement. "That's what you truly believe?"

"Tell me why I shouldn't," Myka growls, leaning back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest, scowling.

Mrs. Frederic holds Myka's gaze, then sighs deeply, shaking her head as if Myka said something either right on the nose or completely fantastical.

"Then this is all on you," Myka asserts.

"Helena should have trusted me."

"Why should she? From what I've heard, you didn't protect her in New York."

"She knew the risks."

"Maybe. But I didn't. How is it ok to manipulate someone like that?"

"My hands were tied."

"Your hands were tied? By whom?"

Myka leans forward, her hands gripping the chair arms ever more tightly as Mrs. Frederic's stoic mask loosens.

"Please," Myka pleads, teetering on the edge of her seat. If she pushes, maybe Mrs. Frederic will open up.

Mrs. Frederic slides her chair back, then stands and turns, walking slowly toward a bank of floor-to-ceiling windows. She clasps her hands behind her back and gazes out at London's skyline, fixating on a point beyond the horizon. As seconds pass into minutes, Myka doesn't dare move or speak as Mrs. Frederic seems to be wrestling with an answer.

"I like you, Myka," Mrs. Frederic says. "Your earnestness is sorely lacking in this field. And contrary to what you may believe, I'm fond of Helena, too."

"Then help us."

Mrs. Frederic breathes in deeply and releases the breath slowly, eyes still focused on the skyline. "You must speak with Theodora," she says quietly, then looks over her shoulder, meeting Myka's eager gaze. "As soon as possible. And in person."

"Thank you." Myka's grip on the chair eases.

"And, Myka, be careful. You've no idea the power she holds. That's all I can say."

The hint of fear in Mrs. Frederic's voice suggests what Myka's up against, but at least she has somewhere to start. It's not particularly uplifting, nor what she expected, but it's more than she had when she walked in today. So maybe that's a win?

"This is one hot potato," Claudia says.

"That's one way to put it," Myka agrees, tapping on her laptop, looking up flights. "I have to go to Milan."

"Hang on. What if Mrs. Frederic's throwing you under the bus?"

"I’m already under the bus. And I'm not sure why, but I believe her."

"Let me talk to H.G. first. You call Morgana."

"I did, but she didn't pick up. She's probably at the police station being interviewed. I'll book a flight anyway."

Everyone startles as a phone rings, but it's neither Myka's nor Claudia's. Christina scrambles toward her luggage.

"It says 'Sondra,'" she says, holding it up for all to see.

"Answer it," Myka says.

"Hello?" Christina says, then listens. "Ok." She holds the phone out to Myka.

"Sondra?"

"Myka! Oh, it's bloody awful."

"What is?"

"Harry's place! It's a right mess, it is. I came to fetch the rabbit nosh and…and it's—" Sondra gasps. "Bastards!"

There's a rustling sound through the phone.

"What's wrong?"

"Christina's Mari Lwyd. It's ripped to shreds! Who would do that?"

"What's a…is anything missing?"

"I can't say. Let me take a gander."

To avoid a lengthy "Sondra" explanation, Myka scribbles "What's a Mary Lloyd?" on hotel stationery and slides it towards Christina.

Christina grabs Myka's pen and spells the word correctly, then makes a quick drawing on the pad. Myka raises a brow at the sketch. It looks like a Halloween costume.

"It's a Christmas thing," Christina says. "A horse skull on a stick with a sheet over it. It was really fun! We made it out of paper and went to people's houses, singing—"

"There's papers strewn about, but I can't say they knicked anything in particular," Sondra interrupts.

"They were looking through papers," Myka says, half to herself. Mrs. Frederic certainly moved quickly if she was looking for those instructions from Cardiff. Helena had them last, but what did she do with them? And what about the letters Christina told her Helena wrote? She hopes the intruders didn't stumble upon them during their search.

"Should I check the garage?" Sondra asks.

"Maybe later? In case those creeps are there now."

"Good call," Sondra says.

What's happening? Claudia scribbles on the pad.

Someone broke in to H.G.'s, Myka scribbles back.

"Do the doors still lock?" Myka asks.

"I reckon," Sondra replies.

"Then get out of there in case they come back."

"Shouldn't I call the police?"

Myka writes, Should she call the police?

Claudia shrugs. We'll ask H.G.

"We'll ask Hel—Harry first."

"You seen her?"

"Not yet. But she's ok."

"Charlotte alright?"

"She's fine. You want to talk to her?"

"Lovely, yeah. Put her on."

"Sondra wants to talk to you," Myka says to Christina.

Christina nods and takes the phone.

"Let's make a list for you to ask Helena," Myka says to Claudia, listening in as Christina answers Sondra with mostly yeses and noes. "Let's hope there's time to get through everything during visiting hours."

"Let's hope H.G. has a plan," Claudia quips.

The minute Myka switches off airplane mode, a text from Claudia pops up.

-You’re gonna kick ass. Good luck!

"Thanks!" Myka texts back, wishing she could agree. They'd stayed up late last night, devising a plan with Morgana, talking on Myka's burner phone. But during her two-hour flight, instead of honing their list of questions, Helena's voice filled her mind.

Helena revealed, during visiting hours, the document from Cardiff was stowed in her suitcase. As they dug through, they found several secret compartments, one with cash, another with new aliases plus travel documents for Helena and Christina. But the document-in-question remained elusive until Claudia tugged on an out of place stitch in the lower lining. Its release revealed a stash of papers stuffed under the plastic shell. The upper lining revealed even more than Myka could have imagined.

Mixed in with the deeds to Helena's house and Harry's garage were the letters Christina had spoken about, the ones Helena had written but could never send. Myka's heart froze at the sight, then pounded wildly as she ripped them open.

She'd barely made a dent in the dense texts when Claudia whisked them away, saying it wasn't safe to keep them on hand since Helena's break-in. She skimmed as many as possible, pushing Claudia away twice as she tried to gather them together. Helena's words vacillated between the mundane in Llangynidr and her extraordinary past. There, laid out in exquisite detail, were her days in London, her time at Stanford, bringing up Christina, and her entanglement with Morgana, Mrs. Frederic, and MacPherson. She felt drunk on information, as if the stories were shots she was downing in rapid succession.

On the plane, it occurred to her the letters read like confessions; Helena laying out her life as if she'd never be allowed to speak of it again. She teared up, as Helena and Christina disappearing forever was not an option. She could never move on if she didn't know they were safe. But once the plane landed, she shook off the feeling and made a concerted effort to focus on the present.

She checks in early at her hotel and changes out of her wrinkled clothes, wanting to look and feel at the top of her game. A few steps from Theodora's door, she stops to neaten her skirt, taking a moment to collect her thoughts. She'd memorized the questions they came up with, but there is no harm in running through them again.

She tugs at her collar, nerves overheating her already, though when she checked, the weather's on the chilly side of spring. Straightening her spine and squaring her shoulders, she enters the gallery lobby. This may be her only chance to save herself and Helena, so she better not blow it.

The room looks exactly as it did the last time she was there; a few new paintings, but overall, it's as if time hasn't passed. She walks up to the front desk, which is currently unoccupied, and waits for someone to appear.

"Hello?" she says, a little louder than usual.

"Scusa!" a woman says, scuttling out from the back. Probably in her twenties, with long brown hair, wearing a white blouse and grey skirt, she's the usual kind of generic, attractive front desk person. She looks Myka over then switches to English.

"How can I help you?"

"I need to speak with Theodora," Myka says.

"Do you have an appointment?"

"No, but we've worked together. She knows me."

"Un momento." The woman holds up a finger and dials a number on her desk phone. "Your name?" she asks as it rings.

"Myka Bering."

The woman speaks in Italian to whoever is on the phone, but Myka gets the gist of the conversation.

"She will see you at the usual place."

"I know it, thanks."

Myka makes a hasty exit and walks a few blocks to the restaurant. She hadn't planned on meeting Theodora in public, so she'll need to adjust. If she can't speak freely, that throws a wrench in her plan.

She tells the hostess who she's looking for and is directed to Theodora's table, which is, thankfully, in a secluded back corner. To the untrained eye, Theodora looks like an unassuming European tourist in her sixties, having left her vacation home to enjoy authentic Milanese dining.

"Myka Bering!" Theodora says, smiling as she rises. "To what do I owe the pleasure?" She greets Myka with a customary kiss on both cheeks.

Myka lips pinch, then lift into an awkward smile. "I, um, was in town, and I thought I'd stop by," she chirps, hoping that sounded more plausible than it felt. She does have a cover story, but it's weak, so she braces for reciting further lies.

"Excellent!" Theodora says, waving a server over as she sits. "How's your new job been treating you?"

"Very well, actually," Myka answers. Because it was before she went AWOL.

The server hands Myka a menu.

“Portaci una bottiglia di questo,” Theodora orders, lifting her wine glass towards the server.

"Oh, no, please, just a latte for me," Myka appeals, understanding Theodora's request was for an entire bottle of wine.

Theodora raises a brow but doesn't argue. "As you wish. Solo un caffè latte, allora," she says to the server.

He nods and walks away.

"Lunch is on me. Anything you choose. But I will say, they've switched to michetta for their sandwiches, and it's absolutely delectable."

"Um, thanks. I'll look this over," Myka says, reading the menu, but the words blend together on the page.

"We were sad to lose you from our team," Theodora says. "But that mess with Irene and Helena…" She shakes her head. "I can see why you'd want a fresh start."

"Can we talk about that?" Myka blurts, setting down her menu.

Theodora tilts her head as if taken off guard. "All right."

"Thank you," Myka says as the server delivers her latte.

He hovers, waiting for further instruction.

"I'll, um, order later," Myka says.

He nods again and takes his leave.

"I need your help," Myka says, once the server's out of earshot. She might as well come out with it as there's no time to be sent in circles.

"What can I do for you," Theodora answers, reclining in her seat and sipping her wine.

"I-I know what your plan was, for me, back then. And I know what's happening now."

"Oh?" Theodora cocks a brow. "Perhaps you might fill me in, then, as I'm not familiar with what you're referencing."

Myka steels herself. Time to pull out all the stops.

"You needed me to go down for the stolen painting so you'd be implicated as well. But Helena messed that up. Once you found her, you put me back in play."

This theory was a gamble, but after factoring in Mrs. Frederic's information, she, Claudia, and Morgana all agreed it was the right angle to take.

"Irene sent you to that sale, not me. I wasn't aware you were 'back in play,' whatever that means."

A tinge of annoyance colors Theodora's tone, but her calm facade stays in place. Morgana said it wouldn't be easy to rattle her. Time to lay out the facts and see if she'll bite.

"Someone sent me to Helena's house where she and her daughter were in witness protection. Now her cover's blown, and she's in police custody. Her daughter's beside herself with grief."

This isn't strictly true; Myka's pushing Theodora's sense-of-family buttons. Christina clung to Helena before leaving the precinct yesterday, but according to Claudia, she's holding up well otherwise.

"Irene told her to keep her distance. I told you to as well."

"Wait." Myka narrows her eyes. "How did you know Mrs. Frederic told Helena to stay out of it?"

"She asks me for advice from time to time," Theodora says, siping her wine then looking away.

"Then you know the police will bring me back in for questioning. And if I'm convicted, Christina will be left all on her own."

"Poor girl," Theodora says, her concern ringing hollow. "I still don't see what this has to do with me. This is Irene, clearing her name."

"No. If this is about bringing MacPherson down, it'd be better for Mrs. Frederic if Helena stayed hidden. Opening up that investigation diminishes the worth of her testimony, if she's even able to testify at all."

"Then, James is surely responsible."

"Why would he rock the boat when, as I've heard, his appeal's already swung in his favor?"

"He's a petty man."

"Petty, but not stupid. He's an opportunist. He grabbed Helena, got the real painting, then tossed her aside. Someone else found her and turned her in."

"And you think that person's me," Theodora snips.

"Tell me I'm wrong."

"Seems like an awful lot of fuss, for what?"

"You're not as happy here as you lead people to believe, with your modest gallery and quiet life. I'm told you were quite the powerhouse, once. That Mrs. Frederic and MacPherson were under your thumb."

Last night, Morgana detailed Theodora's complicated relationship with Mrs. Frederic and MacPherson. She promised this line would strike a nerve if Myka employed it at the right time.

"And yet, you hadn't heard of me until Mrs. Frederic sent you my way."

"I'm sorry. I hadn't."

"There's a reason for that." Theodora motions to the waiter for more wine then points with her chin at Myka's coffee. "Drink up, child, before it gets cold."

Myka takes a sip. It's already tepid.

The server returns and pours Theodora a generous portion. "Grazie, Paolo," she says.

He nods and walks away.

Theodora swirls the liquid and takes a sip, then looks off to the side, into the distance.

Myka's patience wears thin as the pause stretches out, but she waits for Theodora to continue. This is the tipping point; if she pushes, Theodora might shut her out entirely. She drinks her drink and shifts in her chair, willing herself to hold her tongue.

"I was well established by the time those two rose up in the ranks," Theodora starts. "They pursed me, asking to work together, as I'd lend them an air of legitimacy. I found them both promising, so I took them under my wing, nurtured them. Then, when my Henry took a turn for the worst, they grabbed all I had and ran."

Myka opens her mouth to say, "I'm sorry," but Theodora continues first.

"Oh, they'll say they were helping me, following up on leads, taking clients off my hands. But when I was strong enough to step back in, they cut me off, fenced me in here. By then, they were locked in their little game of good versus evil. There was no room for anyone else."

"So, you want back in."

“I want control. Their childish games must stop. They've become graceless. Barbaric. It's shameful." Theodora's words edge towards a sneer.

"So this is personal," Myka mumbles, mind busy cataloging this revelation, conjuring up information to negotiate now the motive's shifted to revenge.

"Finding the Amber Room was Henry's obsession. His great-great-grandfather was one of the craftsmen. Those two stole his notes and passed them off as their own. He was so close right before he..." Theodora breathes a shaky breath as if anger and grief strike her all at once. "I had no idea they found it until that damn sale."

"But that was MacPherson—"

"No!" Theodora slams her palm on the table. "They found it together. Then McPherson stole it from Irene."

Myka flinches at the gesture but sees an opportunity to draw Theodora out further. "Why didn't you go to the police instead of gambling on this elaborate plan?"

"The minute I opened my mouth, those two would cover it up. And without proof, who would believe me? I had to get my foot in the door first."

"So you used Mrs. Frederic as a front and me as your 'foot in the door.' And when I go down, so do you. But why do you want to be arrested?"

"I see this is not your strong suit," Theodora says, the pity in her eyes clear at Myka's naiveté. "I'll give you a minute to figure it out. You might learn something useful."

Myka thinks. Theodora's been left powerless. No one takes her seriously, including the police.

"What you say while in custody is confidential. You could tell the police anything, and Mrs. Frederic and MacPherson won't know until they're being investigated."

"Leverage," Theodora sneers. "Their little moles won't have time to warn them what's coming. They'll duke it out to prove who's more loyal to me, who's willing to do whatever it takes to bail me out. I'll ruin them otherwise."

Myka's stomach turns. This power grab is pathetic. "So, Helena and I suffer for your vendetta?"

"Helena did this to herself."

"Helena did this to save me."

"That's not my problem."

"You once said family mattered more than anything, but you'd do this to someone's mother?"

"This is on her. Irene told her to stay out of it—"

"Do you know how we met?"

Theodora opens her mouth to answer but Myka cuts her off.

"Of course you do. You know everything. You picked me because I had nothing to lose. Nothing more to lose. I was exactly who you were looking for."

Theodora looks on without a shred of sympathy. Myka's scowl deepens.

"Helena taking me in, us falling in love…you couldn't have predicted that. But you gain nothing by condemning her and her child to this limbo. So why go through with it?"

"If she'd only done what she was told—"

"Look." Myka sets her jaw and leans forward, glowering. "I'll do whatever you want if you get her off the hook. I know you can." She fixes Theodora with a stern eye.

Theodora's lips rise, slowly, at the ends, until the wrinkles around her eyes deepen into chasms. Her smile is cold, her gaze, calculating, as if Myka just made a deal with the devil. "Come by the gallery tomorrow afternoon. I make no promises, but I'll see what I can do."

"I'll be there," Myka says, holding onto Theodora's eyes as she casually sips her wine again. Is that it? Did she get what she came for? She can't think of anything else to say. She gulps her cold latte down and takes her leave, mind spinning in an anxious haze.

"Why'd you do that?" Claudia snaps, over the phone, later that evening.

"It just came out," Myka says, slumping back in an armchair at her hotel.

"H.G.'s going to be pissed!"

"I know. But she needs to be with Christina. Maybe Morgana can help?" Myka's words quiet as she sinks further down in her chair, the weight of what she's offered, going through with Theodora's original plan, hitting her full force. She already lost most of her life in the fire, and here she is, losing it again. She doesn't deserve this. Why has the universe turned against her?

“Dude, we’re gonna all help.”

"What if Theodora can't do it. What if we're both still screwed?"

"Stay positive!"

"What if that's not good enough?"

"We'll figure it out. And get you both out, if we have to. You know I'm here for the long haul. Christina won't be alone."

"Thank you. For everything. For always being there."

The sinking feeling in Myka's chest has hit the bottom of her gut. Tears should fall, but instead, a numbness swallows up her fear. This wasn't her fault, but she can't help feeling her karma's summoned up the worst. That the shock waves from the gas explosion caused a ripple effect, shoving her life, then Helena's, then Claudia's, then Morgana's off-kilter. And the only way to fix it is to start over again and follow the prescribed trajectory. If she's lucky, she accomplished this today, and the chain-link reaction will be severed.

The next day, Myka wanders from cafe to cafe, scenic vista to scenic vista, occupying her restless body with movement until afternoon arrives. When it does, she marches briskly into Theodora's gallery and up to the desk, where the same woman from yesterday sits.

"I'm here to see Theodora."

The woman's impassive gaze suggests they hadn't already met. "Signora Stanton is unavailable."

"But she told me to meet her here this afternoon!"

"She's on holiday. You can leave a message."

"I…I'll call her." Myka scrolls through her numbers and taps on Theodora's. She gets a message that the number's no longer in service.

"Give me her number," Myka growls.

"I can pass on a message—"

"Give me her number!" Myka slaps her palms on the desk and leans forward.

The woman scoots back in her chair, then stands. "I must ask you to leave."

"I won't leave until I speak to Theodora."

"She's not here."

"She has to be!" Myka steps around the desk towards Theodora's office. The woman blocks her, but Myka shuffles around and makes a beeline to the back of the building.

"You can't go in there!" the woman yelps, scuttling behind.

"Theodora! You said you'd have an answer!" Myka yells, stalking through the gallery storage area, directly into Theodora's office. When she steps inside, no one is present.

"I'm calling the polizia!" the woman says, turning on a heel and picking up a phone on a nearby table.

Myka circles behind Theodora's desk and plops down in her chair. As she's shuffling through papers, her phone rings.

"H.G.'s out!" Claudia chants from the other end. "Well, almost. And with restrictions, but she can go home for now. Home to Wales, Not new York, but...amazeballs, right? What'd you do?"

"I, oh...hang on, I have another call," Myka says as her line beeps. She doesn't recognize the number, but she taps accept anyway. This better be Theodora explaining what's going on.

"Myka Bering?" a woman's voice asks, a British one that's clearly not Theodora's.

"Yes."

"This is DI Stuart, London Police. I have some questions regarding the sale you were involved in a year ago. Do you have a moment? It's rather urgent."

"I'm…" Relieved Helena's out. Scared at what happens next. About to be arrested for trespassing... Myka stands and walks out of the room, raising a hand in surrender at the scowling assistant. Time to flip that switch and turn back into the naive woman she once was. "I'm happy to help, Detective. Just give me second to get off the other line."

-TBC-

NOTE: I just wanted to say, I know this twist could have been set up better in earlier chapters. But in my defense, I didn’t know it was going to go down this way back then. As I was writing this, I decided I didn’t want Mrs. Frederic to be the bad guy. At least not entirely. Because characters are more rich if they’re not painted in black and white. I also decided the whole scheme shouldn’t be (entirely) about bringing MacPherson’s downfall. It seemed too obvious and why not add some complexity to it if I could pull it off? That’s more exciting for all of us in the long run. Were I to go back in time, I’d add a little more personal interaction between Mrs. F and Myka and maybe a few more clues here and there about Theodora’s (non)-loyalties. Though, when I went back and read Myka’s interaction with Theodora, I did sort of set this up a tad without knowing it. I hope this rings true for you, as I’m sort of proud of parsing it out. Feel free to let me know! I can’t believe I’ve almost finished this! So crazy it’s been in my consciousness for half a decade.

#BERING AND WELLS #w13 #fan fiction #Myka Bering #Helena HG Wells #Claudia Donovan #now I have to write my syllabus #for a class I do not want to teach online #plus I'll get back to Emily Lake soon too!#but phew - I managed to finish this #small miracles...

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you-know-like-the-bird · 3 years

Text

The Day of Projectile Chairs

Alright so this is something I wrote quite a while ago. But thing is I never post it on tumblr (it’s on Ao3 tho), but since I wrote a companion piece for this I decided to send them out together. I’ll figure how to link the two, but until then they have the common tag ‘Days of Chaos’, since that’s the name of the series that these shots belong to. So if you’re looking for these shots, just search that tag in this blog’s search.

The Days Of Chaos are mainly centred around Quirkless!Izuku and his friendship with Mei and Shinsou. There aren’t any romantic elements in this yet, but as I keep on writing I might add them. After all, I did start these with Shindeku in mind.

Anyways! This is the first part, so I hope you enjoy!

Edit: Yooooooo I figured it out! Second part is here!

It's by pure chance that when the alarm rings out, Izuku is looking out the window.

"Alert! Alert! There has been a Level 5-"

But Izuku's not really listening, because at that exact moment, he sees a group of people startle into view. What that means is, one moment there was nothing, and then suddenly four people appeared out of thin air. The one walking in the middle, a pale looking man with straight black hair who has a hand touching two others and a fourth person gripping his elbow, looks up in panic as the school wide alarm starts blaring. His friend behind him shoves him roughly, and the man shakes his head, before they all disappear into thin air once again.

'A warping quirk? No... there's a shimmer in the air where the group had been standing, almost like a mirage. So maybe... maybe they're still there, just that I can't see them...'

And it's at that point that the blaring announcement finally registers in Izuku's brain, "-repeat, there has been a Level 5 security breach! All students are requested to reach their classrooms immediately!'

Which means that the group was probably villains.

Izuku's classmates mill about the classroom, talking to each other excitedly as they try to figure out what's going on. Multiple voices, all loud and outgoing, catch at the edge of Izuku's brain, but the words being said enter from one ear and slip right out the other as Izuku scrambles out of his seat. His classroom makes up one corner of the school building’s third floor, which means they have windows all along the side and back of the classroom. With the direction they had been walking in, there’s a chance that Izuku can catch sight of them from the back windows if they accidentally drop whatever quirk that is keeping them hidden again.

Izuku quickly opens the windows and leans out, looking to see if he can see the air shimmer around the corner. He can't, but then something else catches his attention, and he looks in the other direction to see someone walking with a humongous wooden box that seems to be filled with odd bit of machinery. On a closer look, he realizes that it's a girl, with cross-haired eyes and manic pink dreadlocks. She walks with a bounce in her step, and the box in her arms jingles happily with each step.

She's headed straight in the villain's direction.

For a moment, he considers calling out to her, but then reconsiders quickly, because he may be able to warn her, but the villains will hear him too.

Fuck.

During this time, a teacher had already entered the classroom and is trying to get the kids to settle down, so that she can properly explain the situation. Izuku barely registers this as he runs past her, citing some excuse about going to the bathroom, and books it.

Hitoshi had conveniently just finished his business in the washroom, when the alarms rang out. He stood stalk still in front of the sinks, hands still under a spray of water as the P.A system informs him that there's been a Level 5 breach in the school, and that he needs to get back to his classroom, immediately. He quickly dries his hands and exits the washroom to do just that, when a green blur shoots past him. He watches a boy skid around the corner, and in that split-second catches sight of his face and realizes that it's a classmate of his. He hasn't really talked to the boy, but from what he remembers, he's pretty sure the boy is just as antisocial as him, albeit probably for different reasons, if his constant nervous fidgeting was anything to go by.

For a moment he wonders what could be so urgent that the boy risked crashing face first into a wall.

As he's about to continue his journey back, he hears an urgent voice coming from his classroom's hallway. Hitoshi inches closer and comes to carefully stands just around the corner, until the voice is clear enough to listen to, "-need someone to look over class 1-C because a kid just took off with a shady as fuck excuse and I am not getting in trouble with the principal for this Sora. You'd think kids at a hero school would be better at following safety protocols but no, and now I gotta hunt this kid down before the principal has my head-"

It takes all of five seconds for Hitoshi to make his decision, before he's running after the kid.

Izuku jumps down the stairs five at a time, sure he's going to trip and fall any second now but somehow managing to stay upright. He reaches the first floor and runs towards a separate staircase he knows is closer to where he saw the girl. He runs across an empty classroom but skids to a stop a few meters away and backtracks, because this classroom is the one one floor below his own, but more importantly, it'll give him the perfect vantage point to look and see if the villains have spotted the girl yet.

And to his dismay, they have.

"-must be one of the support brats. Listen girly, just pretend you never saw us, alright? We're hopefully not here to cause trouble."

"Oh but according to the school alarms I think you are!" The girl speaks cheerfully as the metal bits in her box jingle again, "What are you guys even here for at the main building? I thought the attack was at the U.S.J?"

A villain with spiky purple hair snorts, "As if we'd tell you. Sorry kiddo, but villains don't monologue in real life."

The girl just shrugs in faux disappointment, "Ah well, that's a shame. But hey, who cares what you're here for when you're gonna get caught anyways?"

'She's stalling' Izuku realizes with a little bit of awe, 'The security cameras have probably already seen these guys, and she knows that the heroes are going to get here soon.'

"What are you doing?"

Izuku shrieks and jumps a foot in the air from being startled. He quickly backs away from the window, which means that when the villains' heads snap up they don't see anything out of the ordinary.

The boy who snuck up on him, one that he recognizes from his class, stands back and let's Izuku catch his breath.

"Why the fuck would you do that?" Izuku whisper shouts at the boy.

The boy shrugs, "Thought you'd heard me come in."

"What was that?!" The furious shout catches both their attentions, and they exchange a weary glance before creeping back up to the window. It's the guy with purple spikes who shouted this, and looking at the thin metal spikes covering his fist, Izuku realizes he must have activated his quirk. The pale looking guy, who Izuku suspects has the invisibility quirk that got the group this far, stays close to his teammates, hand hovering in the air and ready to touch them and activate his quirk. One woman with neon green flames for hair fiddles with the lighter in her hand, eyes frantically flickering around. Their last party member is hunched over the back-cafeteria door, and it looks like she's trying to get them in with the way she has her hand pressed against the computer pad. (Unbeknownst to everybody, this poor woman is literally trying to hack past the principal of U.A and she is, of course, failing miserably).

'Probably an electricity quirk of some sort, something that'll help her get past the computer pad but it clearly takes away her situational surroundings...'

"I said what the fuck was that?"

"I don't know!" The girl snaps back, much to the purple-spikes' guy's surprise. "I told you that the pros were coming, so are you really that surprised?"

The guy growls, "You..."

Izuku frantically pulls his classmate back from the window, "We need a plan."

"A- what? A plan?"

"Yes." Izuku hisses, "I don't think that girl actually knows how much time it'll take for the pros to get here, and anything can happen between then. We need to help her stall."

"We can't just step in! Those are villains, we could get hurt!" The guy argues back.

"And if we don't do something, she'll get hurt anyways. Come on, if you hadn't scared me, they wouldn't have been agitated in the first place."

His classmate clenches his jaw. Finally, he says, "Fine. What are we going to do?"

"-You don't know what you're fucking talking about-"

"Your gear is horrible! Haven't you ever met a decent illegal broker before, dumbass?!"

Izuku stares up at his classmate. "What's your quirk?"

The boy in front of him hisses, "What does my quirk have to do with-"

"Oi oi, fuck you! You haven't even spent a week in the support course, what the fuck do you know girly?!"

"A lot more that you apparently-"

"Your quirk, what is it?"

The boy seems to finally be giving into the pressure as the arguing from down below starts getting louder and more heated, "Brainwashing. I can put someone under my control if they verbally respond to a question."

Izuku nods slowly, "I can work with that."

Mei is getting ready to just about throw down the metaphorical gauntlet with how stupid this villain in front of her is, when all of a sudden, they hear a new voice join the fray.

"Ah, yes, Present-Mic sensei? Yeah, I'm- no- I'm actually near the cafeteria back door right now."

Mei and the three idiots in front of her quiet down as a boy with purple hair and eyebags so deep they make Mei want to take a nap comes around the corner with a phone pressed against his ear. He doesn't notice them yet, not immediately, and just continues talking on the phone. "Yes, I know I should be in my classroom, but it's not like I'm out here on purpose. Ah- yes- sorry sensei, it won't happen again."

And then he looks up. He stops abruptly, staring at the odd view Mei and the villains make, with the chick who was trying to get into the school still stuck at the computer pad (it's like she can't hear their commotion at all honestly, and Mei is starting to think it has something to do with her quirk). Its kinda pathetic, how long this woman has been trying and failing to unlock a simple back door, and Mei's half tempted to march up there and unlock it for a her.

The boy stares at them for a moment, before he says, "I-" he cuts himself off to lower the phone from his ear, "Are you guys villains?"

And the Pale Guy with the invisible quirk must be feeling extra dumb today because he says, "Yeah. Yeah we are." He immediately gets a swat on the arm from Fire Lady for that, but it's already too late, because the boy is back to talking to his phone. "Yupp. Villains. Back cafeteria door." There's a pause, before the boy says, "Alright, see you soon Present Mic."

And then he cuts the call.

"So... you guys come here often?"

And Fire Lady loses it, "That's it!" With the stress of getting caught already by two people and the irrefutable knowledge that backup was soon on its way to arrest them, Mei doesn't blame her.

The Pale Guy has other plans though, with how he reaches out towards Fire Lady, "No, wait-"

Surprisingly, Fire Lady stops, but they soon find out it's not because of Pale Guy. The kid with eyebags sighs tiredly, "Just one? Why? Alright then, knock out your teammate with the spikes for me, will you?"

Fire lady turns, a blank look in her eyes, and Spikes Guy takes a step back, "Wha- Haruhi?"

It's like Fire lady can't hear him, when she reaches for her hair and managed to pull a ball of fire away from it, which she subsequently chucks at Spikes. He scrambles back to avoid getting hit, and the game is on. Pale Guy reaches for the chick still trying to work the door and yanks her away from it, and it looks like she's just coming back online when she blinks and looks around confused, "What the fuck is going on?"

Pale Guy has already grabbed her forearm, and is trying to pull her away from the fight between Fire Lady and Spikes. "Come on! We gotta run!"

"On no you don't!"

And then a chair comes sailing through the air, and nails the poor man straight on the nose. Three sets of eyes turn to where the chair came from, Fire Lady and Spikes too busy playing a flammable version of tag and Pale Guy crumpled on the floor with two hands over his poor nose, to see a kid leaning out from one of the classroom windows, breathing heavily from where he just threw a piece of furniture at them. He scrambles away immediately, probably going to get another projectile, when Miss I'm-going-to-break-into-U.A-and-I'm-going-to-succeed-because-I-have-an-electricity-quirk hisses, "You fucking kids. I'll show you-"

She bends down and goes to press her hands flat on the ground, but Mei thinks quickly and fishes out the biggest piece of cobbled together metal and wires she can find in her box, and throws. Instead of hitting Electricity Girl though, it just painfully clips her shoulder and makes her stumble back, before conking Pale Guy straight on the head. It's about all the trauma his head can take and he passes out.

The Electricity Chick scowls at them, "You're dead." She slams her hands down, and another chair comes flying, but this time closer to Eyebags and Mei, and Chair kid shouts, "Jump on!"

And Mei has worked with electronics and people with electrical quirks enough times to somewhat know what's going happen already, because a surge of electricity comes cackling towards them along the ground. Mei jumps, hoping to land on the seat, but at the same time, Eyebags jumps over the back support, and they end up toppling into each other. It works out though, even if they do land in a heap on the ground, because Electricity Girl gets knocked out soon by, guess what?

A chair.

Mei and Eyebags look over to where Spikes is laying flat on the ground, a large bruise forming on his temple, as Fire Lady stands silently besides him.

Mei makes no move to get up from where she's sprawled across Eyebags' legs. "Well. That could have gone worse."

Chair kid gives her a thumbs up, before sinking out of view.

They're scolded, of course, almost gloriously so. (Mei finds out that Shinsou's whole call with 'Present Mic' was actually fake, since one; Shinsou doesn't even have his number and two: Present Mic was actually all the way at the U.S.J. All in all, it was a pretty ballsey move, but it did it's job of further scaring the villains). Even if they did manage to get those villains in the end, they shouldn't have been outside their classroom in the first place, and to avoid dangerous scenarios exactly like this, too. Chair kid, who Mei learns is named Izuku Midoriya, tries to defend himself by saying that he panicked when he caught sight of the villains heading in Mei's direction, but the teacher reprimanding them simply shakes their head and says he should've just called a teacher instead.

Which... fair.

Eyebags, or Shinsou Hitoshi, doesn't have an excuse at all, just that he got curious and had decided to follow Midoriya.

And Mei? Well, Mei was just the poor victim of a villain attack.

(She's also very disappointed, because she had a half-finished baby in that box that she was sure she could have used. Oh well, maybe next time, when there's no risk of it blowing up.)

"So… you guys are gen-ed?" Asks Mei as they walk to the infirmary room. They don't really have any injuries, except for Shinsou's scraped elbow from when Mei has toppled into him, but they're going to get checked up anyways for everyone's peace of mind.

"Yupp."

"Huh." Mei counts the tiles of the ceiling as she walks, "You two wanna get onto the hero course or something or...?"

Shinsou rubs the back of his neck and sighs harshly while Midoriya just looks blankly down at the floor.

"That would be ideal," Starts Shinsou, "but people aren't all that receptive towards a brainwashing quirk, not to mention, the Sports Festival is tailor made to cater to physical quirks most of the time."

Midoriya nods absently. "Yeah. Besides," he laughs harshly, "It's a fever dream for me, quirkless and all."

Both Shinsou and Mei look at him surprised, "You're quirkless?"

"Yupp."

The three of them are silent for a while, before Mei says, "Still managed to take those villains down though, so does it matter?"

And Midoriya looks up at her, surprised, with something like relief in the small smile he gives her. Shinsou laughs, "She's not wrong. That plan wasn't half bad back there, short-stack."

"I am not short-"

After a trip to Recovery Girl's room, the moment they step out, Mei says, "So, I was thinking..."

Shinsou raises an eyebrow at her, "Yeah?"

Mei smiles, all wide and wicked, "If you're really going to try for the hero course, you might want some support gear to boost that quirk of yours! It's not bad in itself, just that you're at a disadvantage if you can't use it before you get punched in the face."

Shinsou sullenly stuffs his hands into his pockets and scowls, "I know that-"

Midoriya cuts in before he can get very far with that though, "What are you saying Hatsume-chan?"

Mei gives them both a thumbs up, "Since you two helped me out today, I don't mind working on a bit of gear for you! I gotta make stuff for the Sports Festival anyways, but my babies will really shine if they're tailored perfectly for someone else and used by them! And you guys get a advantage over the hero kids! So, what do you say?!"

Midoriya looks surprised, "Even for me?"

"Yeah! You're even easier, since I can give you anything I want."

The way she says it sounds slightly ominous, but Shinsou and Midoriya exchange a glance, before Midoriya smiles warmly at her, "I think that sounds wonderful."

(And that was the day their friendship started, on the day of the Projectile Chairs.)

(Honestly though, with how long Shinsou and Midoriya pine after one another, Mei herself had started to consider throwing a chair at the two oblivious idiots.)

#bnha #bnha fanfiction #boku no hero au #boku no hero academia #boku no hero fanfic #my hero academia #my hero academy fanfiction #mha #izuku midoriya #shinsou hitoshi #mei hatsume #The Days Of Chaos

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thefandomlesbian · 4 years

Note

From the angst/fluff prompt list: “I’ve got you” Pairing: foxxay ft blind!cordelia because you write her with respect, reverence and a depth that was sorely lacking on the show!

Here is the link on AO3 for improved formatting! (Tumblr is formatting hell for writers, sorry folks.)

“I believe what you say

In the drama of the moment

Oh no there is no easy way, no one ever leaves

Everyone stays close 'till the fire fades.” -Fleetwood Mac, “Fireflies”

Creeping down the stairs with her cane swinging out before her, Cordelia struggled to place her feet on the steps in a way that didn’t disturb them and send the whole house to creaking and waking the coven. She couldn’t sleep… Her inability to tell days from nights was interfering with her sleep schedule. And the dreams weren’t very much fun, either. She had never dreamt much, before--or, if she had, she had never recalled them--but now she awoke from every nap with her eyes burning, an agonizing burning. Even if she couldn’t remember the dream, she could suss out the meaning without too much trouble.

Her face burned now, too, and she fumbled into the kitchen, reaching into the freezer for an ice pack. She wrapped it up in a paper towel and held it up against her eyes. Sweat curled up against her hairline. I need to get some air. She hadn’t done anything outside since she had come home… since Hank had left. Her skin crawled at the mere thought of him, his infidelity, every betrayal she had unknowingly endured. She had so many questions, but she wouldn’t dare reach out to him to ask. She didn’t want to know the answers. It didn’t matter, none of it, except that she definitely needed to get to the doctor and be tested for every sexually transmitted disease under the sun. She would get tested, she would finalize her divorce, and then she would move on.

Move on to what? There was nothing left for her, she feared. She had already been a fairly incompetent witch before the acid attack. Now, she was blind, helpless, and trapped with Fiona. As a teenager, this would have made her suicidal, but by now, Cordelia had grown quite accustomed to living a life of misery. Besides, the coven needed somebody to tell them when they had lost their goddamn minds, and Fiona certainly wasn’t going to be that person. Somebody had to try to make sure the girls stuck it out and did what they were meant to do. I’m not that person, either, though. Madison had been raped--then she had gone missing. What had Cordelia done? Stood back and let it happen. Who on earth was she that Nan had called the counsel to report another student missing before the headmistress even noticed her absence?

Well, somebody has to try to protect them from Fiona. Cordelia would try her best and then fail miserably, as she had always done before. She knew Fiona was a danger now. That was the one asset of her newfound blindness… Fiona had killed Madison. Cordelia licked her lips as she fumbled around in the kitchen for a glass and filled it with cold water. Her mind wouldn’t slow down. What could she do now? She was fucking helpless. The house was too hot and stuffy. “I need some air,” she said aloud this time, stifled by the aura of the house. Everything in this building told her about her inadequacies--how she had been a poor student, an incompetent witch, a careless teacher, and now a helpless blind divorcee stumbling around the kitchen in the wee hours of the morning unable to get some rest.

The front door was unlocked, she noted as she headed to it and stood on the porch for a few moments, drinking clumsily out of her glass of water. It spilled up over her face. The night was sticky but cool with a breeze teasing the trees. Using her cane, she headed down the steps off the concrete porch. I need the greenhouse. The greenhouse was where she had always felt the most powerful. She could brew remedies there, her potions, and give them to her girls when they were ill. That made her feel helpful. It was one of the few things she could do successfully. She missed the company of the plants and the feeling of being just a witch, not a headmistress or a teacher or a student--just a witch, one with no responsibilities but her own brewing.

The breeze rattled the door to the greenhouse, which stood slightly ajar. “Odd,” she said aloud. She pushed her way inside. The door moaned its high-pitched greeting. With her cane, she found the doorjamb and stepped over it lightly. Inhaling deeply, the sweet smell of plants wafted over her. They’re thriving. I would’ve thought they would’ve started to die by now. She hadn’t visited since the attack. Perhaps someone else had been watering and fertilizing them? No, nobody cares enough about me or them to do that. She was eternally the unwanted member of the coven, reluctantly plugged as its head in Fiona’s absence and blithely replaced when she returned.

The plants jostled as if in the breeze, but in a pattern, in alignment with footsteps. Her heart skipped a beat. Somebody is in here! The figure approached, darting through the leaves of the greenhouse. Not again, not this time! Cordelia swung up her cane. “Get away from me!” She smacked the approaching person with her cane hard.

The person stumbled back. “Ow! Jesus Christ!” A plant tipped over, and she fell down backward, landing on her ass on the dirt floor with a gasp of surprise.

Cordelia froze. “Misty?” Great. First I was incompetent, and now I’m downright abusive. “Oh my god, Misty, are you okay? I’m so sorry!” What the hell was that? She dropped her cane and felt around before her in the new perpetual darkness. “Here, come here, are you okay? Are you bleeding?”

“Yes, Miss Cordelia,” Misty grunted, struggling back to her feet. Her voice was thick with tears--not tears, blood, Cordelia realized with horror. Cordelia took her by the elbows, trying to offer some support, but she wasn’t sure what kind. “Sorry,” she said. “I should’ve just said hullo… I was trying to get out before you noticed I was in here.”

Sucking on her lower lip, Cordelia shook her head. “No, Misty, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have greeted you like I was in a baseball tournament. I was just startled.” I keep thinking they’re going to attack me again. She wasn’t sure why she thought that. Whoever they were, they had already blinded her. What else could they do? If they had wanted to kill her outright, they would’ve done it when they had the opportunity.

Misty complimented, “You’ve got a good swing.” There was a muted smile in her voice. “I didn’t see it coming at all. Granted, I never thought you would try to beat me in the face in the first place, but--all things considered, you got a good arm.” She cleared her throat and spat. “What’re you doing, wandering around here at night, anyway?”

It occurred to Cordelia these were the most words she and Misty had exchanged since Misty had arrived with Myrtle three days ago. She was avoiding meals, and Cordelia had scarcely encountered her at all, even in the building. She revived all the flowers. Misty’s breath was heavy, strange, uneven, and in the space, she stood awkwardly, as if in pain, hovering there. As if in pain. She is in pain! I beat her in the face with my cane! “I could ask you the same thing,” Cordelia said softly. Misty was silent, nothing but her little gasping breaths and trembling hands. Her reluctance to answer was palpable in the air. With her refusal, Cordelia cleared her throat. “I couldn’t sleep. I thought I’d come outside and get some fresh air.”

Misty puffed, suddenly deeper, and she blinked a few times. “Oh… right.” Her tone was so muted, so exhausted, Cordelia couldn’t fathom it.

Cordelia held out her hand. There’s something very wrong with her. She hadn’t hit Misty hard enough to give her a concussion, had she? No, I’m not that strong. “Here, let’s--let’s go inside and get you cleaned up.”

Fidgeting backward, Misty tried to dodge her touch. “Don’t, Miss Cordelia, I’m all bluh-bloody.” Misty had not hesitated to touch her the first time, or anytime since, and the affirmation that she was indeed hiding something drove Cordelia further. Flinching, Misty closed both eyes and held perfectly still as Cordelia caressed her cheek, running her palm over a smear of blood.

The vision crashed before her, Misty fighting sleep, drinking coffee, smelling flowers, pricking herself with thorns, slapping herself, shivering in the cold breeze, doing anything, everything, to keep from succumbing to her fatigue and collapsing. Fear coursed through her veins, fear driven from memories--sleeping peacefully in bed in her family’s home when they tore her from her bed and dragged her, kicking and screaming, across the harsh cement of their driveway and hurled her into the back of a pickup truck, scraped and bleeding and aching, hogtied and gagged and blindfolded. Then she was asleep at her cabin, on her mattress with her ratty blankets, and a gunman burst in and littered the shack with bullets. Her heart raced with pure terror, tormenting her through every minute of the day, and she couldn’t drop her shield to sleep again.

Gingerly, Cordelia dropped her hand from Misty’s cheek and reached for her hand instead. “Misty,” she said quietly, gently, rolling her hand over to feel the pulse in her wrist, rapid and shallow. “How long has it been since you slept?”

Misty swallowed hard. “Since I got here,” she admitted. “Maddie gave me some pills that helped me stay awake. I been mixing them with coffee.”

Cordelia blinked a few times. Another point for being an incompetent teacher--somehow, my witches are trading Adderall without me even knowing about it. “That’s dangerous.” She kept her voice very soft. She didn’t want Misty to think she was being judged. “You could have a heart attack. You need to sleep. How many pills did you take?”

“I… I don’t remember.”

“For future reference--don’t take any medication Madison gives you. For one, it’s hardly ever legal or safe… but also, she’ll sneak you laxatives if she’s mad at you.” It was a late warning, but in Cordelia’s defense, she hadn’t thought that she had to warn Misty not to take illegal drugs.

Licking her lips, Misty slowly nodded her head. “Oh, well--yeah, okay, that’s good to know. You learn that from experience?”

Cordelia chuckled, a dampened thing. “Let’s say I didn’t.” She caressed Misty’s sticky, bloody hand. “Let’s go inside and get you cleaned up, and you can go to bed.” She went to pull on Misty’s hand, but Misty sank her heels in deep. “Misty,” Cordelia implored.

“I can’t.” She refused to budge, and her voice shook. “I can’t!” Cordelia would have had as much luck pushing on a solid wall, for Misty shook her head in obstinate opposition. “I have to stay awake,” she insisted, her voice curdling with fear. She took a step back, away from Cordelia. “I’m not safe if I’m asleep!”

Recognition donned on Cordelia: I’m not the only one afraid they’re going to come back. Misty had been victimized in her sleep twice, first by fire and then by steel. She couldn’t let herself sleep. “Misty,” Cordelia tried to soothe, reaching for her, but Misty gasped for breath and snatched out of her reach, stumbling backward. Her exhaustion had left her limbs unable to hold her up any longer. A broken sob tore through her. “Misty, it’s okay--it’s okay, I promise.”

Curling up tight, drawing her knees to her chest, Misty quaked. Cordelia sank beside her, bumping her head on the table above, and reached to hug her. She’s so cold. She hadn’t slept in so long, her body had lost its ability to regulate its temperature. “Muh-My chest hurts,” Misty whispered between gasps. Cordelia took one shaking hand and pressed it there. What can I do to help her? She had never been good at helping her witches, but Misty needed her. After a moment of stiffening under the hug, Misty caved and clung to her in return. “I’m scared--”

Cordelia tucked her hair behind her ear. She couldn’t tell which fluids were blood, snot, or tears as they all ran together. “Sweetheart.” She hoped that name was okay for Misty. “You’re going to be okay… We won’t let anything happen to you here. I won’t let anything happen to you here.” She caressed Misty’s face. Each touch made her flinch. “Slow down your breathing.” She pressed harder against Misty’s chest. Through her thin shirt, she could feel every heartbeat pounding, too hard and too fast. “You need to sleep.” Misty shook her head in resistance, refusing. “You can come with me. I’ll stay with you. If we’re together, no one will be able to hurt us.” Tearful, trembling fists balled up in Cordelia’s nightgown. We’re both so dirty. She doubted Misty could stand long enough to take a shower. How weird was it if she offered to share a bath with her? Not even in the top ten weirdest things that have ever happened around here, she decided. It wasn't like she could be more objectionable as a teacher, and Misty wasn't her student—she was a refugee. “Let’s go take a bath together. Do you want to do that? That will help you warm up some.”

Misty shivered from head to toe, trembling like a dry autumn leaf in the breeze. "N-No—I can't—" She desperately clawed at her own skin, hands curling inward into talons. "It burns," she gasped, scratching at her arms. Cordelia took her hands and held them so she couldn't harm herself.

"Misty, it doesn't, it's just in your head." But that doesn't make it less real, Cordelia knew. Her nightmares also followed her into her life, and she couldn't fault Misty for falling backward when she was most vulnerable. "Come with me—C'mon, stand up." She tugged on Misty's arm, refusing to relent until the other woman started to rise up with her. Long arms caught around her neck. Her legs threatened to cave underneath her. "Sh…" It felt so good to be needed… to be good at something, to be helpful. She didn't get that feeling very often. Misty buried her face into the crook of her neck and sobbed a soft, broken sob, until even that subsided. She was too exhausted to cry. "Come inside," Cordelia whispered, and this time, Misty bobbed her head in some reluctant agreement. Her fear, her sadness, her fatigue had all crippled her. Cordelia wasn't the only one broken by trauma.

Misty hitched a tight breath. "Miss Cordelia…" Her voice quaked.

"It's okay, Misty," Cordelia soothed, feeling more useful than she had in weeks. "I've got you." She reached up to caress Misty's cheek.

Under her palm, she felt Misty's mouth curl, something that wanted to be a smile but didn't have the energy to become so. "I know." That was enough.

#foxxay #lily rabe #sarah paulson #cordelia goode #misty day #cordelia Foxx #raulson #my writing

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w-k-smith · 4 years

Photo

Once again, tumblr has hidden the version of this post that has links. (Clearly, weird fan fic where ghosts eat candy bars is just *too radical* for this website.) This story is also available on AO3, under the username w_k_smith.

Chapter Two is here of “Don’t Go to the Netherworld!”

In this chapter, Beetlejuice and Lydia make their way through Saturn, but are waylaid by Zagnuts, a boy band, and all the obstacles the desert otherworld has to offer.

Chapter One: “It’s a Wonderful Afterlife” (6/19/20) Chapter Two: “Worm Welcome” (07/03/20) Chapter Three: “Ghost to Ghost” (upcoming) Chapter Four: “To Beetle or not to Beetle?” (upcoming)

Warning: This story contains depictions of, references to, and discussion of topics like suicide, untimely death, abuse, and body horror - you know, like the musical does (though this probably has more). Know your boundaries, and stay safe.

New chapter under keep reading!

“I don’t understand,” Lydia said, as they crossed from the midnight of the administrative area, toward the hot afternoon of Saturn, through the twilight in between. “What’s Saturn? Are we going to the planet…somehow?”

“Nope. Totally unrelated, and don’t ask me who named it. Saturn is the part of the Netherworld that acts as a trap for ghosts who get out of line, like if you try to leave the house you’re haunting, or jump the line in processing like someone I could mention. Going through processing would only take a couple steps, but Saturn is an anti-shortcut from the feverish nightmares of M.C. Escher. It’s a giant desert, and it’s full of sandworms. Those are snake monsters that eat ghosts. Foreshadowing?” he muttered to himself.

“This is so weird,” Lydia muttered. “I love it.”

She didn’t seem like she was being sarcastic. Maybe hanging around her wasn’t going to be too terrible.

Unfortunately, he saw trouble ahead.

“Keep your head down,” he whispered to Lydia. “Look dead. Deader than that. And don’t sneeze! Dead people never sneeze!”

“What?”

“Hello, Beetlejuice,” said five tenor voices in unison. A cluster of expressionless young white men was drifting through the shadows toward him and Lydia. The boys had died in their late teens and very early twenties, long enough ago that two of them sported frosted tips. They were dressed just differently enough to be distinguishable from one another, in dated pants and t-shirts with no personality.

“Hey, Boy Inferno,” he grunted.

“What are you doing out here?” they asked. They all floated six inches off the ground, in a formation reminiscent of migrating ducks.

He rolled his eyes. “Just running an errand for Juno. Miss Argentina find that living intruder yet?”

“Not that we’ve heard. Who’s your friend?”

“New hire. Juno wants her on border patrol. Her name’s Lydia, and she’s boring. Kids these days, you know, they think eyeliner and TikTok counts as personality. But them’s the rules: if you add to the work, you have to help out.”

“Do you want to hear the introduction song, Lydia?”

Geez, they didn’t back off easy. “Save that for people who’ve committed genocide or worse.”

“We were talking to Lydia.”

At his elbow, Lydia scratched the end of her nose. Boy Inferno caught the gesture, and as one, cocked their heads.

“What did you die of…?” they asked her.

“Um, I don’t want to talk about it,” Lydia said, which was the wrong thing. All newlydeads ever wanted to do was blather on about how they’d bitten it.

“OK, you got me!” He stepped between Lydia and the boys. “This isn’t an approved mission to Saturn. We were actually trying to, ah, hide out from Juno for a while. She is in a mood today, I tell ya. Just impossible. She wants me to take a statement from all the recently deceased who were in line when the alarm went off, and then pinch each of them really, really hard to see if they still have nerve endings. I’d rather swallow my own toenails. Remember that time Juno made me swallow my own toenails? You were there for that, weren’t you? So be a hive-minded pal and help me stay on the DL. This one already threatened to tattle if I didn’t show her my good hiding spot.” He jerked his head at Lydia.

Boy Inferno blinked.

“Alright, then,” they said, and each voice sounded suspicious. But they drifted back toward the administrative area.

Lydia stared as they went. “Who are those guys?”

“Boy Inferno is a dead boy band. They didn’t have enough brains or personality to be individuals when they were a living boy band, and when their tour bus crashed, the situation got worse.”

“Yikes. And speaking of yikes, what were you saying about sandworms? Are they going to eat us?”

He waggled one hand back and forth, and started walking. “Eh. It’s probably OK. You’re alive, so they’ll leave you alone. I’m half-ghost, half-demon, which confuses them more than anything. We’ll be fine if we don’t run into a sandworm that’s pissed off or starving.” They were crossing into Saturn proper. The terrain changed from dark gravel to rolling sand dunes dotted with twisted rock formations. Wooden doors hovered here and there, from three feet off the ground to 20 stories high. There was the light and warmth of a yellow sun, but if you turned in every direction, you would never see a sun or any other stars in the royal blue sky.

“Huh. Now I kind of want to meet a sandworm...” Lydia said, looking around like one was going to pop out from behind a dune.

“Yup. That’s definitely foreshadowing.”

“So…what’s it like? Being half-demon? How does that, um, happen?”

He waved his hands to turn them into sock puppets – one red and bearing a vague resemblance to Juno, the other a grey blob and as good a representation as he’d ever had of his father. “Hello, children!” he said in a screechy voice. “Let’s talk about the occult birds and bees. When a demon woman tolerates a living human male very much…”

She shoved him. “I know that, gross! I’m ace, but not completely ignorant. I just wondered if you were ever alive.”

He put his hands back to normal. “Uh-huh. I was alive. Looooong time ago, though. Long enough that we didn’t pay much attention to what year it was, and only bathed twice a lifetime, and drank beer instead of water. Hm. Or maybe that was all just me. Anyway, Juno only had me to see what would happen if you mixed demon magic with ghost abilities. Turns out, you get yours truly. She hated the result, and I never got any little siblings to chase around. But it’s fine with the just the two of us; my mom has this sweet thing she says to me every day: ‘I wish you had never been born.’ I think it’s a Swedish pet name.”

“How did you die?” Lydia asked.

“I asked a bunch of annoying questions that weren’t any of my business and someone stabbed me.”

“Ha ha,” she deadpanned. “How far is it, anyway?” she asked, shading her eyes. “I don’t see anything…”

“Distance doesn’t really work like that here, and we could move way, way faster if we were both dead. But it’s pretty damn far.”

She sighed.

He had to give Lydia Deetz this: she was a trooper. She was wearing a dress, and boots that were very much not made for walking, but she kept moving, eyes forward, not a single complaint. When her stomach growled like an angry guard dog, she held her head high and acted like she didn’t notice.

“OK, time for a break!” he said.

“No!” she said. “We have to keep going.”

“If you keep going like this, you’re going to collapse, and then you’ll die, and a sandworm will eat you, and that’s my whole day gone. Sit down.”

“I don’t need to.”

She was going to give him grey hairs, she really was. He shook one hand like he was shooing a fly, and she stumbled backwards until she sat on the closest rock.

Lydia’s eyes bugged. “What am I – what are you –?”

“You’ve never been possessed before?”

She stood back up. He waved his hand again, and she sat.

“No, keep it up,” he said. “This is fun.”

He flicked his fingers, and her expression brightened.

“Beetlejuice, you’re my role model!” she said, in a tone much more chipper than any that had ever come out of her mouth, he was sure. He released her.

Lydia’s face soured like old milk mixed with lemon juice, and she made the fingers-down-the-throat gesture. “I’ll sit for five minutes. Don’t do that again.”

“I always knew I’d make a great babysitter!” He settled on the other side of the rock. He folded his hands over his stomach, figuring he’d take a nap if she stayed quiet.

She didn’t. “My mom would love all this,” Lydia said. “Her favorite holiday was Halloween. We’d make our own haunted houses in the garage – but in the summer, when no one in the neighborhood was expecting it. She liked the weird stuff in the world. Or – she likes the weird stuff in the world. She doesn’t just avoid it, like most people do. Like my dad does. I think she’ll like you, even.”

He wanted to make a face at the idea of a well-adjusted person liking him (though it was a nice feeling, deep in his black heart), but Lydia couldn’t see him, so it would be wasted effort.

She was quiet for a while, and he thought he was free to drift off to sleep.

“Um…do you have any food?” she asked.

He reached into his jacket and pulled out a handful of Zagnuts. He tossed the kid two. “Here ya go.”

“Why so many Zagnuts?” Lydia asked. “They’re good, but I didn’t think people ate these anymore.”

“It’s the only candy in the vending machines in the Netherworld.”

“Really? Why?”

“Because everything around here is at a baseline of low-grade crappiness. Haven’t you noticed?”

“Are you really supposed to spend eternity here when you die?” she asked, in a muffled way that told him she’d bitten off half a candy bar at once. “It seems like it should either be a whole lot better or a whole lot worse.”

“You aren’t supposed to spend eternity here; that’s the point,” he said. He popped a Zagnut into his mouth, and swallowed it wrapper and all. “You have to move on, eventually.”

“To what?”

“Do I look like a priest? Or a philosopher? Or a TV psychic?”

“The last one, a little. A bad one. The kind who gets tricked by reporters to help contact their dead kid, but it turns out the kid is really alive and just in the next booth over in the Denny’s.”

“Touché. The point is, nobody around here knows. You hang around the administrative area until you’re ready to go into the miserable nothingness of the Abyss, and then you swirl around in the Abyss until…I dunno, something else happens. Maybe you just stay in the Abyss forever. I don’t plan on finding out anytime soon.”

“Is that where my mom is?”

“Yup. If she didn’t come running when you first came through the door, she’s definitely gone through security. Don’t worry, though. You poke your head into the Abyss and shout her name a few times, and she’ll come right out.”

He lied easily. He always had.

“I’m just surprised she hasn’t tried to contact us,” Lydia said. “I guess she must be confused, because we moved and everything. My dad dragged me out to Connecticut, away from New York and all our friends and family, to work on this stupid gated community project he has in mind. And he took my annoying life coach with us. She’s friendly and positive, and keeps trying to make me fill out a star chart. I don’t know why he thinks she’s helping me. It’s not like there aren’t actual therapists in Connecticut. I don’t get it.”

He chewed another Zagnut for a beat, waiting to see if she was making a joke. Then he broke the news. “Your dad is boinking the life coach.”

“What?!” she said. She whirled around the rock to sit right next to him. “How can you know that?”

“Um, because I’m an adult with a brain.” He grabbed the top of his head and lifted his skull to show his grey matter.

“He isn’t…Dad’s not…” She slumped. “He’s totally sleeping with her.”

“Totally,” he agreed.

“How could he do that? Mom’s only been dead a few months. Well…when he sees Mom – if he just talks to her again – he’ll understand what an ass he’s been.”

“Uh-huh,” he said, non-committedly.

“How much farther do we have?” she asked.

“Long enough to aaaaaaalmost make you give up and collapse in despair.”

She groaned.

For a second, he thought her groan was superhumanly long and loud, and he prepared to be impressed. Then he noticed the ground was shaking.

“Looks like it’s our unlucky day!” he said. “Run!”

They both got to their feet, and made it about five steps before the sand exploded to their left. A sandworm rose from the earth, its black-and-white stripes blurring into grey. At the peak of its jump, its inner head came out of its mouth, eyes glaring, jaw snapping.

It dove back down toward them.

He dodged one way, and Lydia dodged the other. The spray of sand blocked out everything, and when it all cleared, the sandworm had risen from the ground again, undulating in and out of the dunes. Lydia stood in place, looking all around. But it was hard to know where to run when you were being attacked by a sandworm.

The sandworm’s chomping heads came out of the ground an arm’s length from Lydia. She yelled, and punched it in the closest eye.

The heads hissed and thrashed, knocking Lydia down. The sandworm dove down, and the sand around them whirled and roiled, until he felt like he was standing in boiling dirt.

When the sandworm rose again, it accidentally scooped up Lydia. She showed a little more survival instinct than she had before, and clung to the sandworm’s back.

“Knock it off!” he heard her say. She nudged the sandworm with her left boot, and the sandworm turned to the right. But it had had enough of its passenger, and whipped its body to throw Lydia like a beanbag.

She shrieked as she fell through the air. He stretched his legs, about 20 feet, and caught her.

As he dragged her back to the ground, he braced himself for another attack by the sandworm. Maybe if he transformed into something big and scary, showed some lionfish spines or extra limbs, the worm would leave them alone. Getting swallowed would be no good. Not only did he usually try to avoid getting eaten, but sandworms’ digested prey just wound up back in processing…after a wait of at least a decade or so.

The sandworm jumped over their heads, dove into the ground, and kept going. Its writhing body upset every dune it plowed through, but it didn’t double back.

He wasn’t going to look a gift worm in the mouth.

“And don’t come back!” he yelled. “G’on, git! Git!”

Lydia jumped out of his arms. “That was awesome! I thought I was going to die, but it was awesome.”

He was more tired than he’d been in a while. He was tired like Juno had been screaming at him for hours. Also, there was a lot of sand in his shoes. “You did OK But why the hell did you try to punch it in the face?”

She didn’t look ashamed in the slightest. “I thought it would be like avoiding a shark attack. That’s what the Discovery guy said during Shark Week: punch the shark hard in the eye so it leaves you alone.”

“Since when has punching something made it leave you alone?” he asked. “That has never worked when I’ve tried it with people.”

“Because then the shark – or the sandworm – thinks you’re too much of a threat and it ignores you. I made it go away, didn’t I?’

“I seriously doubt you’re what made it leave, Karate Kid. If a sandworm had its multiple hearts set on eating us, it would take more than your mechanical bull riding skills to dissuade it. I don’t know – I’m not so sure it was all that interested in us.”

“If it wasn’t going for us, why did it come over here?”

“I said I don’t know! I’m not a sandworm scientist.”

“Your hair is changing color,” she said, pointing at his head.

“Can you blame me? I’m pretty pissed off right now.”

She brightened. “It changes color with your mood?”

“Yeah.”

“Can I touch it?”

He grunted, and tilted his head. She patted some strands on the right side of his head, which were dark green at the tips, but probably working their way to red. The cocoon the caterpillar had made behind his ear popped open, and a death’s-head hawkmoth shot into the air and planted itself on Lydia’s nose.

“Augh!” she yelped, and fell right on her ass. He doubled over laughing while she tried to get back up with dignity.

“You’ve taken things too far this time, Beetlejuice!”

Once, just once, he’d like to go 48 hours without hearing those words shouted at him.

He turned to see Miss Argentina stomping up a sand dune, clipboard in hand, sash askew, which meant she was really really really upset.

“What have I done this time?” he asked, resigned.

“What have you done this time?” Miss Argentina pointed at Lydia. “Let’s start with child endangerment! And the fact that your disappearance has about given Juno apoplexy.”

“Ah, she loves me.”

“No! She just knows that if she hasn’t heard from you in twelve hours, it means you’re up to something! And that means the rest of us suffer! I’m just glad she gave me clearance to go to Saturn to look for your sorry, sagging ass, so at least I was able shoo a sandworm away from some newlydeads. I have a sneaking suspicion you bear some responsibility for that, too?”

“OK, that is both not fair and completely true,” he said. “And I’ll have you know I’m doing a good deed. I’m guiding this one around the Netherworld.” He jerked his head at Lydia.

“And why, in the name of all that is sacred, would you consider that a good idea?”

“Um…” He faltered. He may have been able to fudge a few details with Lydia, but Miss Argentina had been around long enough to know how the Abyss worked.

“Newlydeads…” Lydia said. “That must have been what attracted the sandworm. It wasn’t coming for us after all.”

“Why did you drag newlydeads with you?” he asked, happy to change the subject. “What, did you need help shouting at me? Anger backup singers?”

“Of course not.” Miss Argentina frowned. “But – that’s a good idea.” She clicked her pen, and scribbled on her clipboard. “I am actually writing that down. If Boy Inferno is free…”

“Excuse me!” came a woman’s voice from the bottom on the dune. “I’m so sorry – could you wait just a minute?”

“It’s very hard to walk on sand!” came a sexy, nasal male voice from the same direction.

“These newlydeads have a problem, you see,” said Miss Argentina, her voice icy. But something was wrong – she wasn’t looking at him. Her gaze was fixed on Lydia. “Apparently, a living person used their Handbook without permission.”

Lydia became interested in the horizon. “Huh. That’s weird.”

Miss Argentina jabbed a finger in Lydia’s face. “Oh, don’t even try that on me, living girl. I am not in the mood today.”

“Whoof! We made it.” The newlydead couple crested the dune…and he was smitten.

The woman was white, a pretty blonde, in a green wrap dress and suburban-mom-at-the-nice-grocery-store boots. Her companion was a beautiful Desi man, with light brown skin and a lock of black hair hanging over his forehead that he immediately wanted to run his fingers through.

“Oooooh…” he said. “Hello, sexy…”

Lydia looked at him with a scientific expression. “Which one?”

“The Trader Joe’s guardian angels over here. Not that Miss A isn’t pretty easy on the eyes herself, but she’s a friend of Ellen, know what I mean? A patron of U-Haul. An adopter of shelter cats. Wrong tree, is what I’m saying. But she loves me platonically.”

“She doesn’t,” Miss Argentina said.

The couple pushed past him and bent over Lydia.

“Oh, thank goodness!” the woman said.

“Lydia!” said the man. “I’m so glad we found you. We were worried sick!”

“Adam, Barbara?” Lydia said. “What…what are you doing here? You weren’t supposed to go to the Netherworld.”

#beetlejuice #beetlejuice fanfiction #beetlejuice the musical #lydia deetz #fan fiction

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fluidityandgiggles · 4 years

Text

Dalton Big Bang day 2 - You’re Healing Too

Writing Masterpost, AO3 Link

Notes: So I honestly thought this one was going to feature Johnny heavily, but guess not... but well, it just gives me room for a sequel!

"Give him a break, Westwood. He's adjusting to his new pills." There was a bit of silence then, as Logan chose to adjust his position. "He does that sometimes. I just let him be."

Logan struggled to fall asleep. In fact, he's struggled with it for years, only recently getting the confirmation that it was a result of his rapidly deteriorating mental health; but nowadays it was… less about his mental health, and more about… nightmares. And waking up in a cold sweat every time. And sometimes just pure inability to even fall asleep, for some reason. Could it be that he got on tumblr…? Can he really blame tumblr for his lack of sleep?

Well, Dr. Rosenfeld seems to think so, and who's he to argue with his psychiatrist, right?

Such was… not the case for the past few days, though. Just as Julian has been going to therapy more, physical and psychological and any form of therapy, Logan has as well. The fire finally got it through Johnny's head that maybe, just maybe, Logan could use a bit more help than being force-fed pills that don't work and told to work it out. That was when they seeked out Dr. Rosenfeld, who actually read through Logan's diagnosis, and prescribed him Ritalin and some other cocktail and told him to get diagnosed all over again when he's nineteen.

She also referred him to a therapist. And his therapist was good, and he does feel like it's all working, but…

The actual reason he hasn't slept in five fucking days, thank you rambling but move aside, is that he's had nightmares and heightened anxiety about... well, about his father.

School opened again now. Sure, nothing much changed… at least in his perception of things. Han is still keeping tabs on everyone, pathfinder is still happening, he's still going to school and he got accepted to Harvard, early admission and everything. Derek is still around, most of the time. He's still making music. Julian still wants to hang out with him.

They've gone on… one, date? Like… Logan picked him up from the airport this morning. And they went out for sushi after school. And they talked about calling it a date, under other circumstances maybe, maybe once they're both older and wiser and maybe Julian still has feelings for Logan and maybe Logan would have for Julian as well, and there were a lot of hypothetical questions rising in that conversation. Julian actually got tired of it pretty quickly. It was Logan's fault. He knows it's his fault.

But… yeah. Half a date. Not too bad for two kids in need of therapy.

Oh god, he keeps derailing his own thoughts… what is he doing? What's happening here?

"Julian…?"

Julian turned to look at him, sending his brain haywire. This is a pretty boy right there. He let Logan nap in his bed. They've had their differences before, but they talked through it. They still do, like, all the time. He's still angry at Julian, at all the insults thrown his way; he didn't realize how angry he truly was until he started therapy. But… they're working on it, both of them. Realizing their common language. Still have a long way to go but the sheer fact that Julian is willing to try…

Of course Logan is trying too, it wouldn't mean shit if he didn't, but…

"Yeah?"

"What… what are we?" Julian just laughs. "No, really. We… we're working on getting better, with ourselves and with each other, and obviously we're still friends and all, but, I just…"

"You want to know if we're a thing, is that it?"

Logan just nods. That's… all he can do, really.

"Well… we're friends, so that's a thing. And… we just went on a date today, didn't we?"

"I thought you didn't want to call it that."

"You're the one who brought it up, though. Not me."

"That's… why I'm asking."

Julian lets out a laugh, playing with Logan's hair now. "I don't mind calling it a date… but what is it actually about? It can't be just the semantics."

"...you know how my dad is coming to regionals this year?"

"Yes, I've heard you talk about it a lot actually."

"And… and also Hell Night?"

Something in Julian freezes as Logan mentions that. Shivers run down his spine, and almost as if Logan can feel it, he jumps up and his eyes go wide as he goes into a stream of apologies.

"No, no, it's not that! Logan, please—"

"I didn't mean to bring it up, I—"

"Logan, I'm fine! Dude. Squid. It's not what you think."

"Please tell me if you— what?" He frowns, sitting down. "So… what is it?"

"I… just really don't want to see your dad. I don't want you to see your dad. Logan, you're healing too, you don't need him around right now!"

"Okay, but… here's the thing. He's actually trying. He wants to try to make this better, and I just want to... "

"Logan, look at me." Julian turns his head to look in his eyes and oh shit, he's whipped. "Your father needs to get his shit together. He's a homophobic, Republican piece of shit and absolutely not worth your time."

"He's still my father, Julian. It's not going to change any time soon. Not to mention, he pays for my pills."

Julian rolls his eyes, making Logan's heart take a dive deep to the pits of his stomach and never to be seen again. And then he's playing with his hair again and sighing and looking so, so disappointed.

"I never mean to upset you, Princess. What's gotten you so riled up?"

"I just… I hate your father. There, I fucking said it. He's been acting like a righteous brat since forever, I'm just… I'm appalled, okay? I love you. Don't give me that look, friends can love each other in a different way and still call it love. I just don't want to see you get hurt by that man again."

"Julian… again. He's my father."

"He's a prick, is what he is."

"Julian."

With a small huff, Julian gives up. He lets Logan go, rolls off the bed, goes to get a cup of water, and Logan becomes absolutely miserable.

He… he has a point. But…

"I don't think you get why it's so important to me—"

"I may not, but I don't care."

"I want his last impression of me before graduation to make a point," he finally admits, dropping back on the bed. "I… I'm going to Harvard, for fuck's sake. If I ever get to make music again it would either be for fun or playing at a dingy cafe, and that's not what I want. Jules… I've had nightmares, for weeks, about having to stop making music. I dream about becoming my father constantly. It's quite sickening at this point. So… yeah, my dad is actually making an effort, but… I'm asking you. Please, please, please give it a chance and stay by me as I do it. I need you."

...after all the mind rambles, he finally figured out why he has nightmares. Good on you, Logan.

"...okay… so we agree that you can't just forgive your father like that?"

Logan nods, and Julian smiles, and walks over to kiss his forehead and hug him again, cup of water still in hand.

"Good. I will never let you get hurt this way. I promise."

"I will never let you get hurt either, dork."

"I know. Between you and Derek, I doubt anything would happen," he jokes, laughing a bit dryly. "Well, happen again."

"Yeah…"

"...hey, how do you feel about a Meryl Streep movie marathon?" Julian settles back in bed, hugging Logan again.

"I'm okay, but we have to get Derek in here or he won't let us hear the end of it."

"Oh, absolutely. But I get first pick."

"Whatever floats your boat, Princess."

#kylo cant write #Daltonfic #daltonficbigbang #stuart #jogan #Logan is a nerd but a nerd with nightmares #and Julian can be soft when he wants to be #look at dem gays go

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monsters-demons-and-ai-oh-my · 5 years

Text

What We Lost and What We Have

Chapter 7: Toddlers, tantrums, and a cartoon octopus

In which Dean broods petulantly, Castiel continues to scream internally, and Sam really hates Dora the Explorer.

TW’s for this chapter: Toddlers?

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AU somewhat inspired by Episode 2x20 - What Is and What Should Never Be, and the season 14 storyline concerning Jack’s illness.

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AO3 Link

Previous Chapter

First Chapter

Complete Tumblr Chapter List

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March 22, 2002

Thirty-Nine days and counting.

And Sam was counting.

Thirty-Nine days left until Sam turned eighteen, until he instead of the courts could choose where he spent his days.

His mother and John’s divorce had been mostly cordiale. Mary hadn’t wanted to make things hard on her boys by drawing things out, she’d just wanted to move on, and John didn’t have the balls to fight her on that.

‘Or maybe he just knew if he made Mary fight him, after what he did… he’d be the one to lose everything.’

Part of Sam wished she had taken John for all he was worth, he’d betrayed them all. If wasting years and years of their lives building a family meant nothing to him, maybe taking his money or his shop would have.

At then at least Sam wouldn’t have to spend time at their old house, doing… this…

- I don’t get paid enough for this, - He texted Dean.

- Dad pays for babysitting? Shit wish I knew when you were a brat.-

Sam rolled his eyes, glancing over to make sure Jack was still preoccupied watching Dora and munching on goldfish or his fingers.

- It’s spring break and I’ve got like two months left of school, I should be out at the lake with friends or working on my senior paper. -

Dean seemed largely unsympathetic, - Neerrrddd. -

Sam violently snapped his phone shut as if Dean could feel his irritation through the screen and tossed it aside on the couch cushion.

Sam wasn’t even supposed to be here, he was only staying with John this week because Mary had some special teacher’s training during the break.

He did not agree to babysit the… well, baby, willingly, but Missouri Mosley had gone on vacation with her son’s family and John had guilted him into it.

John kept going on about how “he could stay home with Jack and not work all week, because shutting down a business was obviously better than leaving a toddler alone because his own brother refused to watch him.”

‘As if John could say shit about abandonment’

Jack wasn’t his “ brother ” he was a baby, all twenty-two-month-olds did was eat, sleep, and chew on their hands.

All Jack did was make the occasional not quite humming noise as he ate goldfish and mimick Dora’s “map!” a hundred times, interrupting Sam’s research.

‘John didn’t even have a computer with the internet or Encarta he had to do all his senior paper research with library books.’

“Am, am am!” Jack babbled around his fingers.

Sam did his best to ignore him and read more about solar powered lights.

“Am! Am!” Jack insisted. Sam heard him get up and stagger away from the tv toward him. Sam felt two sticky hands on his knees and jumped looking around his book. Blue eyes looked up at him expectantly from a face covered with orange cracker crumbs.

“What?” Sam huffed in irritation.

“Ora gone!” the baby guestured back to the tv looking alarmed.

“Then watch Oswald I’m busy…” Sam pulled his book back up and resumed reading.

He heard Jack’s footsteps prattle off again in the direction of the TV.

"Thirty-nine days…" Sam muttered to himself.

All was quiet for a few minutes except the noise of the overly condescending octopus on the TV.

Too quiet, there was no sound of goldfish munching or babbling Jack noises.

Sam looked up and with a jolt realized Jack's little plate of goldfish was abandoned in front of the TV.

"Jack?"

He dropped his book back onto the couch and looked around for where the toddler could have gotten off to.

He ended up almost tripping over the toddler when he stood up.

Jack had gotten into Sam's open backpack and gotten his tiny hands on one of the smaller library books, pulling it open and leaving orange crumbs on the now rumpled pages.

He quickly pulled the book away from Jack who just giggled.

"What are you even doing," Sam sighed harassed dusting the book off and smoothing back out the pages.

"Am!" the toddler chortled.

Sam rolled his eyes sticking the book back in his bag and scooping Jack up, "okay, you know what, no more tv for you, you are just going to have to take a long nap until dad gets home."

“No!” Jack grumbled kicking at Sam's chest.

It actually kind of hurt, little kid shoes driven into his ribs without any regard for his own strength, making Sam cringe in annoyance and irritation.

"Stop it! Jeez…" Sam groaned holding him a little tighter before climbing the stairs, "do you want me to accidentally drop you?"

"Nooo!" Jack continued to complain, not listening.

Sam huffed and rolled his eyes carrying the toddler to his crib in Dean's old room.

Aside from a few scattered boxes filled with toys and diapers it still looked like Dean's room. Dean's old bed was pushed into the corner and any crap he hadn't taken when he moved out was just piled on top.

There was an orgy of evidence the room was never really meant to be a nursery, all the needed baby junk much like Jack himself just kind of shoved into their lives with little notice or time to prepare.

Almost as soon as Sam put Jack down and pulled up the side of the crib Jack was back on his feet tugging at the bars and looking at Sam like he’d just locked him in a cage.

"Nooo…" Jack cried attempting to wiggle away as Sam reached through the bars to remove his shoes.

"Yes," Sam insisted tossing the shoes in an open box and starting to walk away. Jack’s fussing just grew louder and by the time Sam was halfway down the stairs the toddler decided it was best to just start screaming.

Sam's frustration rose to a boiling point. This wasn't fair, none of this was fair. Sam had a life and college applications and finals to worry about, his dad had no right to force him to take care of problems that were his fault in the first place.

Sam huffed and trudged back upstairs.

The baby was still standing clutching the bars his face bright red and teary bottom lip sticking out.

"Why can't you just go to sleep?" Sam said exasperated pulling back down the crib bars to try and convince him to lay down.

But as soon as Sam got back near Jack he decided he no longer wanted to grab at his older brother and demand to be let out, he instead plopped down on his butt and scooted as far away from Sam as his crib would let him.

"No!" Jack pouted.

Sam rolled his eyes, "come on Jack it's nap time…"

"No! No Am!" Jack insisted kicking his blanket and glaring at Sam petulantly.

"Tell you what, one month and they’ll be no more ‘Am ever again." Sam spat frustration finally getting the better of him. "I'll leave stay with my Mom until I graduate and you'll never have to deal with mean old 'Am' ever again, how about that?"

He didn't know how much Jack understood of what he said, most likely it was just his tone, but the toddler went quiet after Sam’s outburst pouting and sniffling at him.

'Thirty-nine days'

Sam repeated the mantra over and over again to cover his guilt.

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April 23, 2017

Dean got an early start working in the garage, five-thirty in the morning wasn’t hard to manage when you’ve been up since three.

He enjoyed the work, on the best days the cars and trucks he had up on the lift were an interesting puzzle to solve and even on the worst days the routine monotony of replacing brake pads and rotating tires was at least soothing.

Today the prospect of rebuilding an engine block was… exhausting.

Castiel was starting a pattern of dropping bombshells before the asscrack of dawn between his two am call the day before and his text of… basically, “they’re transferring Jack because his organs are frying” this morning.

Thankfully Dean had his own patterns to fall back on, he hoped carefully reassembling an engine block required just enough concentration to keep out the unwanted thoughts that kept him from falling back to sleep.

‘Fuck, the kid just couldn’t catch a break could he?’

He hoped the doctors figured out whatever the hell was going on with Jack he really did, kids… didn’t deserve this kind of shit. But getting involved was like watching a shitty Hallmark movie about a dying cancer kid on purpose. Like a weird middle-age soccer mom trying to feel something by forcing herself to get weepy. Jack wasn’t his problem or his kid, he was Castiel’s more than anyone else’s.

And that meant Castiel for all his bitchiness had the right to call the shots with the teenager, and he made it pretty clear what he wanted from Dean and Sam.

So Dean buried himself in grease and gaskets and continued rebuilding the engine like he promised Cesar and Jesse he would.

Or at least he tried until around eight o’clock on the dot.

“You’re going to head to the hospital like that?” Sam’s voice popped up behind him, making Dean jump about a foot in the air, the hand with the wrench swinging out on instinct making Sam jump back alarmed.

Dean dropped the tool almost immediately heart still racing, “Way to sneak up on guy, say something or… call next time, I could’a clocked you...”

‘Shitty hybrids and their silent engines, he hadn’t even heard Sam pull up.’

Sam huffed a laugh still holding up his hands in false surrender, “well you didn’t answer your phone and you weren’t at the house, so I figured I’d find you’d be here.”

Dean patted down his pockets with his cleaner hand, ‘shit… he must have left his phone in his hurry to get out of the house that morning…’

“Yeah well you found me,” Dean muttered bending down to pick up the wrench and returning to bolting on the head assembly.

He felt Cesar’s old jeep shake slightly as Sam leaned against it. “So you’re going to head to the hospital in a t-shirt stained with… monkey grease?” Dean could feel his brother looking him up and down making him roll his eyes.

“Yeah well… I have a job Sammy and like I said last night I have to finish this engine today…” Dean said not looking up. “Don’t you have to get back to your job at Douchebag INC.?”

Sam was quiet for a long moment, “Well… paperwork can be done from pretty much anywhere with a computer and secure wifi. Besides… family emergency kinda trumps finishing a job. I’m sure whoever’s Jeep this is would understand if they knew your younger brother was in the hos-…”

Dean’s head finally snapped up and he resisted the urge to slam down the lid of the Jeep, “Okay, well, maybe half-assing your job would fly in LA, but I have one job and one garage, I’m not part of a small army of suit monkeys who can throw money at whatever pisses them off me keeping my word actually matters.”

Sam blinked at him in disbelief, “First of all, I don't live in LA, second what the hell’s gotten into you today? Did a bug crawl up your ass or something?”

“What’s ‘gotten into me’,” Dean snorted, “yeah, like you would know…”

Dean could feel the indignancy rolling off Sam in waves.

“You’re my brother I’d like to think you didn’t just suddenly turn into a massive douchebag without warning, turning your back on family? This isn’t like you Dean.”

Dean actually laughed, “because you care so much about family…”

Sam had the decency to look abashed.

“Before all this stuff with Jack, aside from our yearly little shindig in the graveyard, which by the way I haven’t forgotten you lied to me about, when was the last time we talked? Christmas? Mom’s birthday? We haven’t been close since you left for college,” Dean didn’t even have to raise his voice to make Sam wince.

Sam studied the Jeep’s side mirror, “Fine whatever, What does that have to do with Jack? What the hell does that have to do with anything?”

Dean went back to ignoring him walking over to the sink to scrub the engine grime off his hands, he could practically feel Sam’s self-righteousness seething over his shoulder as he trailed behind him.

“I thought you were going to help? Whatever happened to ‘being there’ for Jack, was that all bullshit?” Sam demanded.

“Oh I’m here, I’m right here, they know where to find me if they need me,” Dean smiled over his shoulder at Sam, the grin only making it halfway up his face.

“That’s not…” Sam sighed kneading his forehead with one hand in exasperation, "so you have no intention of going with me to the hospital?"

Dean shrugged, "do you know if they want us there?"

"Castiel said Jack was still asleep when I called this morning but I asked him to ca-…" Sam trailed off at the nonplussed look on Dean's face.

“What?” Sam half spat in frustration.

“That’s not what I mean… at all…” Dean said flatly.

“Then what the hell do you mean?” Sam said exasperated, “because I’m tired of playing twenty questions and you’re acting like a twelve-year-old.”

Dean took his time drying his hands on a paper towel and lining up his shot for a basketball toss into the trash before repeating himself.

“Do. you know. If they even want us there?”

There was a long silent moment before Dean continued.

“Because it seems to me like things are getting bad with the kid, and Castiel… uptight ass that he is has other things to worry about other than strangers barging into their lives when things are already going to shit.”

Sam took a moment to let that sink in, face changing from annoyance, to anger, to shame, before settling back on denial, “we’re not strangers Dean he’s…”

Dean cut him off, “he’s what? Our brother? Since The last time I checked, not counting yesterday I’ve spent a grand total of maybe forty-eight hours with the kid and you used to spend every moment you were forced to be around him bitching and moaning about how you’d rather be anywhere else!”

Sam seemed to sway back before landing his own defense angrily, “I was a kid, and I was pissed at Dad, not Jack.”

‘Could have fooled me…’

“Yeah well, result is still the same, isn’t it?” Dean said. “You don’t know him. And I’m sure that probably makes you sad, makes you feel a little pit of woe and worry in your tummy because that’s just like you, but maybe, just maybe, now is not the time to force all that baggage on someone else.”

‘The kid is sick, it was becoming clearer and clearer now that no one knew exactly how sick, but he had to be scared, and Castiel… Castiel was showing emotions he normally kept locked securely behind about ten layers of bitch face. Emotions Dean hadn’t seen since the very first time he’d met the man, right after his sister died…’

‘It made everything in Dean want to turn away… But Sam.’

“What if this is the only time we get Dean?” Sam said quietly.

Dean’s mouth opened and closed.

“Now you’re just being overdramatic,” Dean snorted, shaking his head and pushing away the stubborn tightness in his own chest.

Sam didn’t drop it, “Fine, let’s say you’re right, lets say Jack is fine, he recovers from whatever terrible bullshit he’s going through right now and he and Castiel go back to their lives in Indiana without a hitch. Then what? He thinks we didn’t even try to be there for him? Yet again?”

“Maybe what he thinks about you isn’t what matters right now,” Dean said simply, “he has Castiel, what makes you think he wants or needs either one of us. Because from where I’m standing, it seems like this isn’t about Jack, this is about you needing to play the hero and needing to make up for the past because you feel bad.”

Sam’s eyes narrowed and flashed before he huffed a petulant laugh, “Maybe you were right about us before, because you certainly don’t know me anymore if you honestly think that’s how I feel...”

Dean tasted bitterness on the back of his tongue, he swallowed and crossed his arms, “You know what, do whatever you think is right, you’re a grown man Sam that’s your prerogative… You know where I’ll be, right here, minding my own damn business…”

Sam shook his head, “Is that what you think you’re doing? Really Dean?”

Dean shrugged, “You see that’s the great thing about having already explained myself, I’ve already explained myself…”

Dean turned back on the tap of the work sink and began scrubbing the grime from under his fingernails, after a few more minutes, Sam left without another word.

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Jack hadn’t woken back up since doctor Hannah administered the sedative in the night, Castiel figured it might be better that way, he still didn’t know what he would tell Jack when he did wake up.

Jack at least sounded peaceful while he slept, his breathing was easier, and there were no uneasy hisses of pain.

‘One glance over would show the tube still snaking across Jack’s face and the bruise turning a darker purple as it oxidized.”

The doctor told Castiel Jack was stable. Whatever had been sending the teenager’s body into a nosedive the last few days at least wasn’t any closer to shutting down his organs, at least… not for now…

‘It felt like they were just waiting around for the next thing to go wrong with no answers or solutions for what had already gone wrong in sight.’

‘At this rate...’

Castiel closed his eyes and sighed, pushing away the thought before the implications could scrub him raw..

The doctors were doing their best. They seemed to be drawing enough blood to supply a small red cross branch, and they kept coming it with more and more paperwork, tests they wanted to run, transfer orders, insurance questions.

Castiel tried to keep track of everything the doctors were saying and doing to Jack, what they were testing for what the results were. But things were quickly stretching above and beyond what he’d learned from his stint in nursing school.

That didn’t mean Cas wasn’t trying everything he could. He had run through every cough, nosebleed, and bruised knee he could remember in the last sixteen years of Jack’s life, hell he’d even been through everything he’d remembered from his sister’s childhood that he thought might be remotely relevant.

‘These things take time…’

But it felt like nothing the doctors were doing had a straightforward point or purpose, at least… not that he could see. It felt like they were still grasping at straws, rapidly running through and running out of obvious causes, ready to pass Jack off to other doctors in hopes they could do better.

Somehow the closer they got to noon and Jack’s transfer to Kansas University hospital the worse Cas felt. Even if the other hospital had better resources and going there was best for Jack part of him still didn’t want to accept that things had already gone far enough for that to be necessary.

‘He just wanted Jack to be okay…’

“Mr. Kline?” a cautious voice called him from his thoughts, doctor Hannah stood on the far side of the bed. Castiel hadn’t even heard the door open.

“We’re getting ready to move Jack,” she said gently.

Castiel blinked tiredly, “I thought we were… it’s only…” he fumbled for his phone.

Eleven Thirty-eight blinked back at him and he sighed rubbing at his face, “right… sorry, do I… do I need to sign anything else?”

She smiled kindly pulling the stethoscope from around her neck, “No, I just have to check on him and give the final okay for him to be moved.

‘That confirmed about five things at once.’

“So… we’re going through with it? There haven’t been signs of improvement?”

“The last blood tests we got back where the ones we took last night and they’re… unchanged,” she said carefully, listening to Jack’s heartbeat and breathing through the stethoscope her expression carefully schooled calm, “the ones from this morning won’t be back until late afternoon.

Castiel nodded understanding, mostly, “but you still don’t know what’s going on?”

She sighed looping the stethoscope back around her neck, “the university hospital has many more specialists and specialized care we can’t provide here.” She made sure to meet his eyes looking earnest before continuing “I did my residency there myself and I truly think they’ll have a better time making sense of what’s going on.”

‘Before things can get any worse…’

Castiel just nodded again and she moved on in her examination. When she reached to wrap the blood pressure cuff around Jack’s arm he twitched, face screwing up as he pulled away slightly.

“Jack?” Castiel called cautiously, not sure what kind of state the boy would wake up in. It took a minute, but Jack gradually woke up, eyes scrunching up before slowly, sheepishly opening fully.

“How… how are you feeling Jack?” Castiel asked cautiously, putting a hand on his shoulder, “do you need anything?”

Jack continued to look confused clearing his throat and cautiously pushing himself up on his elbows, “I’m kind of… I’m… hungry?”

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Oof sorry this chapter is about a month late it's been a nightmare of a month, a lot of really awful stuff happened in my personal life and I was sick to boot which didn't help anything. :P

Hopefully, we will be back to regularly scheduled programming soon as I am returning back to my old writing pattern.

Please let me know what you think if you have the time :)

#SPN #Supernatural #Castiel #Sam Winchester #Jack Kline #Dean Winchester #fanfiction #whump #humor #illness #family drama #kylermalloy #toddler!jack

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