#2006 and it holds up like it was done within the last few years
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if someone told me that black lagoon came out the same year as the og higurashi and fate/stay night I would not have believed them
#2006 and it holds up like it was done within the last few years#although thankfully that means it's missing a lot of the gratuitous butt/bust shots that happen nowadays#which isn't to say that there aren't times that a butt/bust isn't a focus in frames#but it's to such a lesser extent that it feels fine#considering most of the time it's for action shots#will admit that I'm glad that I'm first watching it as an adult vs as a 12 year old thirsty for anime#cause idk if I'd appreciate it the same#plus also I feel like the arc with the twins would have probably kept me away as a kid#that shit was fucked#also the comparisons in the post are not to shit on those anime#I love them#but it is jarring knowing they're from the same generation
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Countless Nights
Post Azkaban! Sirius x Reader
Sirius Black deserves all the love in the world, fight me.
You can send me requests in my asks. ♥️
Warnings : Angst, some fluff
Word count : 2006
...
“Moony, hey!” I said as soon as I opened the door. Remus stood there, his hands in the pockets of the coat, but the look on his face was different than usual.
“How are you?” He asked, not making a move to get in the house. It was late November. The wind was chilly at eleven in the evening.
“Uh, cold?” I said.
“Y/N, I do not want you to panic.” He said in a cautious voice.
“What is it?” I asked, my heart sinking already.
“It’s Sirius.” He said.
“Oh my god, is he okay?” I asked, tears slipping out of my eyes within a second. Thousands of thoughts rushed through my mind and I hated to even think about him being dead in Azkaban. I would throw the ministry over. I would kill everyone. Slaughter them all.
“Remus, is he okay?” I asked again, my voice strained.
He took a step back and something moved in the corner of my eyes. He stood in front of my door. I held my breath as I took him in. Matted hair, filled with dirt. He had lost a lot of weight. Skin on his face stretched over his bones. His clothes were torn and his eyes, oh stars, his gorgeous stormy grey eyes that I had fallen in love with, had lost their spark.
I choked out a sob at the sight, throwing myself at him. He steadied us, even in this state. I wrapped my hand around his neck and he hugged me back, just as tightly. So tightly that I couldn’t breathe. And I was not complaining. I sobbed into his chest, holding onto him tighter if that was even possible.
I felt his painful grip over my torso and damn I needed to feel that pain.
I slid down to the ground with him, both of us crying like it was the end of the world. Like the long lost lovers that we were. I had missed him. For last twelve years. Uncountable times, the memories became too much to bear. With James and Lily gone and with Sirius in Azkaban, everything was unbearable. Many times, I thought may be I should just end it all. And Remus had stopped me.
After a while, when we ran out of tears and calmed down a little, I pulled back to look at him. I cupped his face in my hands and I could see tears streaming down his eyes. I closed my eyes feeling him near me. Right there, with me.
“Sirius.” I said, it came out strained.
“Y/N.” His voice was hoarse.
“Oh my god, I missed you. I missed you so much.” I cried.
“So did I, love. So did I.” He said, tears pooling back into his eyes.
“Let’s get you inside.” I said, getting up from the ground and helping him up.
Remus was already gone.
I closed the door behind us. Sirius stood in the hallway looking at everything.
“How about, you go get cleaned up, baby and I will get you some fresh clothes and put on some tea?” I asked, still not being able to gather my emotions.
He nodded.
“The bathroom is to the left, up the stairs.” I pointed, “Do you want me to help you up?”
I still had no idea how much strength he had left.
“I can get there.” He said, touching my hair lightly.
“Okay.” I nodded, biting my lips.
He turned around and walked up. I stared at him until he was out of sight. It was him. It was really him. He was out of the prison. And he was here. He was safe and that is all that mattered.
I took out some of his old clothes I had in the closet. I had cleaned them all up and just, it was like he never left. I kept his things around. All of them. I used his hoodies and sweatshirts sometimes. Sometimes cried myself to sleep with them or in the beginning when I had panic attacks, they were of great help.
I placed them on the bed and walked back to the kitchen. I put on his favourite tea that I still buy for myself sometimes and a few cookies that we both liked. Stars, that boy needed to eat.
I paced in the kitchen, after I had poured us the tea. I couldn’t sit still. He was here, right? I hadn’t imagined it all? I wasn’t going crazy.
As if an answer to my question, he walked into kitchen in the sweats and a black tee.
“Hey.” He smiled. His hair were wet and he looked fresher and cleaner.
“Hey.” I said, softly. I was afraid, one wrong word and it would break him. I had so many questions.
“It smells nice.” He said.
“Chamomile.” I nodded.
He smiled, sitting on the chair at the glass table.
I sat beside him. He reached for the cup and took a sip. I stared at him. He was so weak. And it hurt to see him like that. But at least he was here now.
“Baby, don’t look at me like I am some bomb about to go off.” He said, putting the cup down, “I am still Sirius. Your Sirius.”
“How are you?” I asked.
“Fresh clothes, warm water, hot tea and you. I have never been better in past twelve years.” He said.
“Good, good. You will be way better than this in next few days.” I said.
He nodded.
“When did you get out?” I asked.
“A week ago.” He said.
“A week?” I asked, surprised.
“It’s a long story. I got here as soon as I could.” He said.
“I believe you.” I said, placing my hand over his. He entwined our fingers, his thumb lightly caressing the back of my palm.
“Did you,” He cleared his throat, “Did you ever think that I was, uh-”
“What are you talking about, baby? No. Never.” I said, cutting him off.
“I really didn’t, Y/N. You know I couldn’t.” He said, as tears threatened to spill out again.
“I know, Sirius. I know. Better than anyone. I know.” I said holding his hand tightly.
He nodded, not looking up.
“You know what?” I asked and he looked up, “Let’s not talk about this today. Or for next few weeks.”
He didn’t react, he just stared at me.
“Today, we will get some food and that hot tea in you and then tuck you in.” I said.
“Would you- do you- I jus-”
“Yes, I will sleep beside you. I am not going anywhere. I will be right there.” I said understanding his incoherent words and he sighed.
He looked like a child. A child seeking affection and warmth. He was scared, just as I was. But here, he had nothing to be scared of. I was not leaving him alone.
“How have you been?” He asked.
“Great, now that you are here.” I said, which was true.
“What did I miss in twelve years?” He asked.
“I will fill you in on it. Nothing important.” I said.
“I am sorry I wasn’t there when you lost your best friend.” He said.
“They were our best friends.” I replied, “And it’s not even your fault.”
He nodded.
“I see you still have my clothes.” He smiled.
“Of course I do.” I said, “I have many more things that belong to you.”
He opened his mouth to say something, but then decided against it.
“I have missed you, Padfoot. More than you can imagine.”
“I could see.” He said, a slight smirk adorning his lips.
It made me smile wider than his complete infamous smirk ever has. There still was a trace of that Sirius inside him and that was more comforting than I thought it would be.
“I wasn’t the only one sobbing.” I retorted.
“Yeah, well.” He chuckled, taking the cup again.
The whole time, I did not take my eyes off of him. He never stopped looking my way. We threw in a few words sometimes, but other than that, we fell into a comfortable silence. Just enjoying each other’s presence. He kept touching me somehow, my hair, face, my fingers. Those touches were feather light, merely there but they meant more than anything to both of us.
When we were done, I held his hand leading him to the bedroom without another word. It was a struggle to keep my tears at bay every time I looked at him or heard his voice or touched his skin. It was the same for him, maybe worse.
He got into the bed, I lifted the covers, getting under them after switching off the lights.
“It feels good to sleep on a bed.” He said.
“It is about to feel better, with me cuddling you.” I said, smiling.
“I don’t doubt it.” He extended his hand, inviting me into his embrace.
I moved closer to him, resting my head on his chest. He wrapped the hand around my waist and I sighed. I held him tightly, and kept my eyes wide open.
“I am scared, Sirius.” I muttered.
“Of what, love?” He asked.
“What if I wake up in the morning and this is all just a dream?”
“If it is, I will wake up in the morning and you will be the dream.”
“I am real.”
“So am I.”
“I have waited so long for this.” I said, my voice cracking.
“I know.”
“We both have.”
He did not say anything, only his grip tightened around me.
“I love you, Sirius.” I said, looking up at him.
“Do you, still?” He asked, fear clear in his voice.
“Yes, oh god, yes. I never stopped.”
He let out a sharp breath.
“I love you, too, Y/N. Thank you for not giving up on me.”
“I never would.” I said, softly kissing him. His lips were just like I remembered, maybe a bit rough. But that did not matter. He made me feel the same way. My heart leapt and same shivers ran down my spine at his mere touch. I was so in love with this man. This man who was broken and never thought he was deserved anything. When the truth was he deserved everything, all the love in the world. And I would spend the rest of the days of my life proving that to him if I had to.
I heard his heart beating in his chest. The warmth of his body that I had craved so much. There were still many unanswered questions, many things to talk about and tell him. But that all could wait. We had years and countless nights now.
#marauders#sirius orion black#sirius black x reader#post azkaban sirius#sirius black#padfoot#angst#fluff#sirius deserves all the love in the world
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Homecoming - Chapter Six
(I know it's Henry and not Sy in the photo, but it just fit too well with this chapter.)
Summary: The day has arrived, Captain Syverson is going home. For good, this time. He is going home to a civilian life he can hardly remember and a wife he barely knows, with memories of the war still fresh on his mind. Love might not be able to heal everything on its own, but it’s a good start.
Genres: Romance, drama.
Story warnings: Smut (always fully consensual), mentions of PTSD and nightmares and mental health, angst, hurt and comfort, fluff, mentions of war (minor), mentions of cheating (minor), mentions of pregnancy (very minor), police appearance (very minor), violence (very minor).
Notes:
It’s my first time writing for one of Henry’s characters and I’m unsure I did Sy’s character any justice.
This is a Capt. Syverson x OFC (Ada) story, written in 3rd person POV but OFC’s physical description is very limited so it could also be read as Capt. Syverson x Reader, I think.
English is not my first language, so there might be some mistakes. Proofread, but not beta’ed. We die like men and all that.
Timeline is a little wacky: The movie takes place in 2003 and the U.S. forces were withdrawn from Iraq in 2011, but I never set a precise date because I don’t think it’s essential for this story. However, some elements might not be realistic because if we set this story in 2003: Phone cameras quality was not as good as it’s now, but for the purpose of the chapters, I will need you to imagine you could film great videos with your flip phone haha. Plus, it says Sy is coming back after being deployed for more than three years which makes no sense unless we set this in 2006 or later. I am asking you disregard any time inconsistencies.
Also: I am not American. I only lived in the US for six months and it was in the Midwest, not Texas so please bear with me if I write something stupid.
Finally: This will be a Christmas fic and I intend to post the last chapter (there will be seven in total) on or before Christmas. However, religion is never mentioned in this story and the Christmas-sy elements of this story are limited to family gathering, gift giving and tree decorating.
Chapter Six starts after the cut. (Chapter Five can be found here.) Let me know if you wish to be tagged in the last chapter or if you wish to be removed from the tag list.
I will post a master list soon and put the link in the comments to make it easier to navigate.
Chapter 6
Chapter warnings: Smut, Christmas themes, mentions of therapy, embarrassing moments.
Ada didn't mind being woken up with soft fluttering kisses on her neck. She definitely didn't mind starting the day with the tantalizing rub of his beard on her sensitive skin and the hard press of his torso against her back, their legs entwined and his morning erection nuzzled against her butt.
What she did mind, however, was when any of this happened at the butt crack of dawn. Ada opened her eyes just enough to read 6:50am on the alarm clock.
"Sy," she groaned, stopping his wandering hands with hers, trying to trap them beneath her breasts. "Hold that thought for later, okay?"
She heard him chuckle behind her, his chest vibrating against her body as he freed his hands from her weak grip. "Later is for putting up the Christmas tree and the decorations," he teased, his right hand now drawing circles low on her stomach.
Ada groaned again, wanting to fight his tempting touch but unwilling to move away from his body heat. "I'll get up at 7:30." Those were the last words out of her mouth before she had drifted off again.
When she woke up once more, forty minutes later with the blast of her alarm clock, her back was cold and the smell of breakfast wafted through the air, filling her nostrils. Damn Syverson and his military sleep schedule! She had taken all her days off to spend them with him only to wake up even earlier than when she was working.
With barely open eyes, Ada threw on his shirt that hung on the chair and slowly made her way downstairs, following the scent of pancakes. She found Sy in front of the stove, just finishing up the last one before setting it on the huge pile of pancakes that looked fluffier than clouds. Ada had quickly learnt that while Sy was a disaster when it came to the art of cooking, he was the master of pancakes and barbecue.
"Good morning, sleepyhead," he greeted her and then smirked when he noticed her attire.
"Morning captain," she mumbled, walking up to him before patiently waiting until he leant down so that they could share a kiss. It always made him laugh when she did that: the adorable pout on her face when he didn't bend down for a kiss fast enough was worth waiting the extra second every time.
They ate in relative silence, mostly because Ada definitely wasn't a morning person, but the fact that Sy had a habit of stuffing his mouth full of food also played a role. When she was done eating, Ada pushed her plate and glass away, and brought her knees up to her chest, hugging her legs on the chair. She eyed her husband intently, waiting for him to finish eating with a grin on her lips.
"Why are you looking at me like that, darlin'?" Sy asked, eyebrow raised suspiciously before taking the last sip of his morning coffee.
Ada blushed, suddenly looking bashful. "Well… I was hoping we could go back upstairs and continue what you started earlier," she admitted in a tiny voice.
Sy laughed, a booming sound that filled the entire room before a shit-eating grin spread on his lips. "Tough luck, darlin'." He got up from his chair, standing in front of her across the narrow table. "Should have thought about that before falling asleep on me earlier."
Ada's mouth fell open. The cheek on this man! And what made it worse, was his huge smile that made him look like a very amused bear, with his hairy, tempting chest. He was toying with her. "Are you really saying no to sex?" She asked, cocking her brow. Sy wasn't really the type to turn down-
"Yes, no sex." He stated, suddenly looking very serious. "We have to head to the store to buy decorations, then put up the tree and hang the lights outside." Ada tried her best not to laugh. He sounded as if he were explaining a major, life or death, mission to her – not Christmas preparations. "You’re dismissed but I expect you back here in fifteen minutes, dressed and ready to go." With that, he turned around and started gathering the plates and silverware to put them in the dishwasher.
"Yes, sir."
Ada knew better than to talk back. First, when he had something in mind, it was nearly impossible to talk him out of it. Second, she hoped that the sooner they were done with this, the sooner she could get laid. Third, he had used his Captain voice that somehow always managed to make an obedient little soldier out of her.
Though, rationally, she also didn't want to make it any more difficult for him. He had confessed to her a few nights ago why he'd felt so uneasy when they had gone grocery shopping: the gondolas were too tall which led to lots of blind spots and the amount of people meant he couldn't rely on his hearing sense to detect potential danger. 'It just screams ambush,' he told her.
Ada couldn't quite imagine what he must have experienced that a supermarket or a store would translate into danger, but it was not her place to question him. Instead, she had kissed his forehead in bed and offered to start doing their shopping on her own. Sy had promptly refused, suggesting they simply go early in the mornings, when there were less people and less distracting noises.
Now at Target, she was immensely glad she had gotten out of bed, the sight alone was worth it. It wasn't everyday you'd see Sy pick up a bunch of Christmas tree baubles and inspect each one of them carefully before determining which ones were worthy enough to make it to their living room. Ada sneaked a picture for safekeeping and then decided to send it to his mom as well. Family dinner was fast-approaching, and she'd seize all the cookie points she could get.
"Darlin'," Sy called, catching her attention. He was holding up an inflatable Santa who, instead of carrying gifts, dragged a bag full of liquor bottles and sported a drunk grin on his face. It was tacky beyond words. "Do 'you think we should get this, or will it just upset the neighborhood kids?"
Ada grimaced but tried to disguise it with a smile. She’d die before letting that thing on their lawn. “I think a neighborhood dog would tear it to bits within a second," she lied, trying to appear apologetic.
"Yeah, you're probably right."
°°°
The lights were up. It was a much quicker process with Sy's help. It was also the occasion for Ada to just sit back and relax because he was adamant, she shouldn’t step on a ladder to help. Instead, she had a glass of bourbon waiting for him for when he finished. It was 5pm somewhere after all.
"You said we had a tree!" Sy's deep voice reached her from the basement.
Ada threw her head back, sighing, before hurrying downstairs after him. "Yes, it's in that box over there," she pointed at a white cardboard box behind a couple of spare tires.
"Woman, it's tiny!" Sy complained, picking up the box and setting it down between them. It was about as tall as her. It was not that small.
"It's the one I've used every year since I moved in. It's pretty enough and doesn't take up too much space,” she defended.
In front of her, Sy exhaled loudly through his nostrils before rubbing his beard. She knew that move. It's what he did to remind himself she was not a soldier under his command, but his wife, and that he better measure his words unless he wanted to sleep on the sofa.
"Look, darlin'," he said calmly, enclosing her small hands in his much bigger ones. "This is my first Christmas home with my wife. I refuse to put up a minuscule, fake sapling in my home and call it a Christmas tree."
Ada was slightly taken aback. She didn’t know Christmas was this important to him. Though it was true he had been overseas on Christmas the past two years, so she could understand where he was coming from with wanting this Christmas to matter. Besides, it was endearing when he put it like that.
With a nibble on her lip, Ada gave in. "Okay. They're selling trees in that parking lot by the pharmacy."
Sy slowly shook his head, a mischievous look on his face. "No. We're going to get our own pine tree from the woods."
You gotta be kidding me, she groaned internally.
°°°
Ada had no idea where they were. It hadn’t been that long of a ride, but there were no more houses or streets to be seen around them, just endless fields and a forest. It was only when Sy took a right turn, that she started spotting cars and what looked to be a very colorful barn which had been converted into a cozy boutique.
“Where are we?” She asked, staring out of the window as Sy looked for a place to park his truck.
“The Dallagher’s ranch,” he replied. “They do a corn maze and a pumpkin patch in the Fall, and in the Winter, you can pick up your own Christmas tree. My dad used to take Claire and I here every year.”
Oh… This was a family tradition. No wonder Sy made such a big deal about having a real tree for Christmas.
Once out of the car, they walked hand in hand through the dirt road until they reached the makeshift counter made of hay where you could get a handcart before heading out into the man-made pine forest and select a Christmas tree. Most people she saw, however, were already returning the handcarts and happily carrying their trees to their parked cars.
The old man by the cash register seemed to recognize Sy instantly, smiling warmly as he greeted him with a one-armed hug. Ada realized it was the ranch’s owner. “I haven’t seen you in years, Jack!” The old man exclaimed with a laugh before turning to Ada. “And who’s this pretty lady?”
“This is Ada, my wife,” Sy said, introducing them. He watched with amusement as Ada stumbled as the old man hugged her without a warning, taking her by surprise.
“Well, it’s great to meet you, Ada,” the man nodded once he had retreated, and then turned back to Sy. “Should I be offended I wasn’t invited to the wedding?” He teased.
Sy was already wrapping his arm around her shoulders, chuckling. “To be honest, Dallagher, there were no guests at the wedding,” he replied, amused at the way the old man frowned in a confused manner at that piece of information. “Actually, we came here to get a tree.”
“Of course!” Dallagher immediately turned and ordered the young boy in overalls to fetch them a handcart. “What size did you have in mind?”
“Something around seven feet,” Sy said, looking pensive as Ada looked up at him suspiciously, trying to figure out how much seven feet converted to in the metric system. Once she’d done the math, she pulled at Sy’s flannel sleeve to protest – that was way too big, it’d take up the whole living room – but the Dallagher’s grandson was already handing them the cart and leading them to the entrance.
“Trees that big are at the very back of the forest, you’ll have to walk a little.”
This turned out to be quite an understatement. Ada felt like they had been walking for literal years. While they had still come across other people at the beginning, mostly families, they were on their own now – that is if you didn’t count the many squirrels that kept appearing out of nowhere.
She stopped, grabbing the back of Sy’s red tartan shirt so he would be forced to pause as well. “Can’t we just take one of these?” Ads suggested, gesturing at the countless trees all around them. They were all pretty enough and considerably taller than her.
Sy huffed, biting his lip in amusement as he looked at her dispirited face. He’d told her she should probably get changed and wear more comfortable shoes before they left home, but she had insisted she wasn’t going to change clothes just to get a goddamn tree. “These are only around six feet, darlin’. And,” he paused, eyeing the trees more closely, “they’re not Nordmann firs. I want a Nordmann.”
Ada sighed defeatedly, but nodded all the same, starting to walk again when Sy took pity on her. “Do you want to sit on the handcart?”
The change on his wife’s face was instant, the frown lifting into a smile as she climbed on the cart and sat down in the middle, evening out her weight for him. “Is that better, darlin?” He asked teasingly.
She turned her head back just to make sure he saw her rolling her eyes.
By the time they reached an area with Nordmann trees that Sy considered nice and big enough, her butt was sore from the conjunction of the hard, wooden surface and the uneven ground. She wasn’t even sure she had made the better call or whether it would have been better to suffer in her new ankle boots instead.
“Which one is better?” Sy asked, pointing at two pine trees that looked virtually identical to her.
Ada shrugged, almost saying that he should choose before realizing how much time that would take. The man wasn’t picky about food, bedlinen or even the pillow he slept with, but apparently, he had to make sure he brought home the most perfect tree. She still couldn’t wrap her head around that. “The left one,” she said finally.
“Which one? Your left or my left?”
Breathing in deeply, she decided to just point at the tree she was talking about. Sy nodded thoughtfully and grabbed the saw he had brought with him and started to work on the tree. While she had been most eager to get this whole thing over with, it became an entirely different story now as she dreamily stared at her husband getting to work.
With most of his back facing her and one knee on the forest’s soft ground as he started sawing off the Nordmann fin, Sy looked absolutely delicious. The red flannel shirt unbuttoned over his white t-shirt and the jeans made him perfect sight with anyone with a lumberjack fantasy. Ada had never considered herself as having such a kink. A uniformed soldier, or even better, a captain? Hell yes. A strong, rugged husband capable of her breaking her in half? Also a big yes. A lumberjack? The thought had never crossed her mind in the past but there was no point in denying it now as she sat back on the wooden cart, watching Sy carefully saw down the giant tree.
She was wet. Horny. Aroused. You name it. It also didn’t help that they hadn’t had sex that day. Yet.
"Sy," she whined, just loud enough to get his attention, while swinging her legs in the air like a child.
"I'm almost done, darlin'," Sy responded, not bothering to turn around to look at her. "I want a nice, clean cut."
Yeah, and she want a nice, dirty fuck. Pouting, she watched him for a couple more seconds as he knelt in front of the base of the tree, deciding from which side he should bring the saw to the trunk next in order to make it even.
That was when Ada decided she was tired of waiting. Shuffling quietly, she slipped off her wet panties from under her dress and rolled them into a small ball before throwing it at her husband. It hit his left shoulder and rolled down his chest. Grinning wickedly, she leaned back on her shoulders and enjoyed the view, the muscles on his back shifting as he picked up the garment off the ground. If this didn't get her laid, nothing else would.
"Ada Metz Syverson," Sy groaned out her full name slowly, his voice even deeper than usual. He got back up on his feet and turned to face her, looking stern.
Suddenly she didn't feel so brave anymore, not when he had crossed the distance to her in two determined strides and went to tower over her small, sitting frame. His jaw was set, and his eyes were a darker shade of blue than usual. Ada moved her eyes down his body, her eyes pausing at the defined pectorals on his chest before sliding lower. He was definitely hard, the bulge on his jeans prominent.
"Just remember you asked for this."
She wanted to ask what this was supposed to be, but he didn’t give her the chance. “Legs,” he ordered, patting his shoulder as he came to stand just inches away from her. Almost unconsciously, she obeyed his order, her ankles coming to rest on the front of his shoulders, her feet framing his neck. “That’s a good girl,” he praised her with a quick kiss to her right calf before his large hands moved to the front of his jeans, just over the protruding tent and began undoing the belt and snap.
From this angle, Sy’s cock looked even bigger, the shiny glans flushed a deep pink. Ada swallowed tightly, her legs already shaking with anticipation and he hadn’t even touched her yet. Pumping his shaft with his right hand, Sy brought his left one to her core, rubbing the rough pad of his thumb over clit once or twice before sliding it between her folds. She was a dripping mess. Sy smirked when she keened eagerly at his touch, enjoying his ministrations until he pulled his hand away and brought it to his mouth, licking off her slick. “It’s good you’re so wet already because I just can’t wait to take you, darlin’.”
He wasn’t lying when he said he couldn’t wait. The next thing he did, was grabbing hold of his throbbing, hard cock and guiding himself into her. Ada moaned loudly at the intrusion, drowning out Sy’s own growl as her walls clenched around his cock, trying to get used to the abruptness and depth of the penetration.
“Fuck, Sy!” She cried out, not even sure what it was she wanted. “Don’t stop,” was all she could muster as he ploughed into her like there was no tomorrow, hitting her pleasure all at once.
He knew they were being too loud. They might be alone, but they were still out in the open air, and yet he just couldn’t find it in himself to care – not when she felt this good around his cock and her noises only heightened his fervor. If someone happened to stumble upon them, then they’d simply be in for a premium show,
It wasn’t long until her legs started shaking almost uncontrollably up in the air, prompting him to remove one hand from his steely grip on her hip and wrap his arms around her legs to keep them steady as he continued with jackhammer thrusts. “Are you going to cum for me, darlin’?” Sy panted, groaning out the question between clenched teeth even though he already knew the answer.
Ada didn’t manage to reply, the first waves of her orgasm already coursing through her when she moaned his name. Her hips canted up, her body tensed up like a bolt, and Sy knew he was done for right then. Her warm walls squeezed him impossibly tight inside of her, milking the cum right out of his cock while he fought to keep his balance as pleasure overtook him.
They came down from their heights slowly, chests heaving. Sy lazily removed her legs from his shoulders, massaging the strained muscles on her inner thighs before he set her legs down. This woman would be the end of him. “That was…” he panted, bending forward over her body to kiss her forehead, unable to find a proper adjective to describe what had just happened.
“Yeah,” Ada breathed out, nodding slowly.
Sy ended up having to carry her and the tree on the cart back to his truck because there was no way she was able to walk straight after that.
°°°
They finished decorating the giant tree. Ada had to admit it looked pretty although the red and gold decorations clashed with the color theme of their living room. She handed Sy the newly purchased baubles one by one – he was the only one capable of reaching the top.
On their way back home, she had somehow managed to convince Sy to stop at the therapist’s office – the one she had found had the highest ratings on Google. They had booked the first available appointment, which was just after the New Year and Sy had made it very clear to their secretary it was just a ‘testing appointment’ and that there was no need to set aside time slots for follow-up sessions yet because there was no guarantee he’d be back. His reluctance was palpable, but Ada was glad he was giving it a try at least. And if he didn’t like, then they’d figure out something else.
In the background, their wedding video kept playing and she wondered for how much longer she'd have to hear the sound of camera flashes as the chapel assistant took way too many photos of them in the most cliché poses you could imagine. Sy has insisted they put on their wedding video since they’d never gotten around to watch it and it fit the season, according to him. Slowly, the annoying sounds began fading away and Ada sighed with relief. Watching herself on TV sparked too much embarrassment in her.
"Hand me the big one with Rudolph, will you, darlin'," Sy asked from behind her, still meticulously decorating the tree.
Ada nodded, searching for the bauble he had in mind. It was still in the shopping bag, she remembered, lifting it off the floor to dig inside it.
Ada froze as a female chuckle was heard, unconsciously gripping the glass ornament too tightly in her hand. "Not that fast, Captain."
Behind her, Sy frowned. "What did you say?"
"Tonight, I'm in charge," she heard her own voice say - no, it was more like a purr.
"Shit!" Ada cursed loudly, letting the bauble fall back inside the bag and she hurried to the TV, her worst fear confirmed.
Sy followed her quickly, stopping just behind her, his hands on her shoulders. "Is that from our wedding night?" He asked slowly, his eyes locked on the screen as he watched his younger self being tied up to the bedposts by his wife.
"Yes," Ada cringed, her face a painful grimace. "I didn't even remember the sex tape."
"Me neither," Sy swallowed loudly, admittedly rapidly becoming aroused at the sight of his Ada doing a striptease on camera. She wore that red ensemble with the garter belt.
"I think the assistant never really ended the video after our wedding, only paused it and we later continued filming in the hotel instead of starting a new video," Ada commented, now understanding what had happened. How they’d even came up with the idea of filming a sex tape on their wedding night, she didn't know. Alcohol had probably played a part in it.
Sy was still staring in awe at the TV, enthralled by the sight of his wife deviously edging him, her hips swaying slowly, when her words slowly registered in his head. "Didn't we send copies of the video to our families?" He stammered, his voice uncharacteristically quiet and hesitant.
Silence fell between them as they both realized they had been dumb enough to send copies before watching it themselves. "Fuck!" Ada barked, seizing the remote to pause the video. "We sent that to my parents, your parents, your sister...," she listed, her face losing all color.
Suddenly, the sound of Sy's deep laughter filled her ears. She turned to him, aghast. How could he find this funny? This was peak cringe! She’d be one needing therapy after this!
"You know, darlin', watching this video was the first time my parents ever saw their daughter-in-law, before even meeting you in person." Sy explained, shaking his head with amusement.
Ada was mortified. No wonder Mr. Syverson had seemed on the verge of laughter the first time they'd met and Helen had given her the side eye. The woman had a USB stick in her home with an hour-long video of Ada fucking her son. "You know, Sy, this wedding video is also the first thing my parents saw of you." He stopped laughing abruptly, his face red, all amusement gone.
They both sat down on the couch next to each other, slowly coming to terms with the fact that pretty much their whole families had seen this, and never said anything, probably keeping it as an inside joke.
Sy broke the silence, his large hand reaching to rub her naked thigh. "You know, I don't think we should be embarrassed," he said, prompting her to stare back up at him, eyebrow raised dubiously. "The way you tied up my arms really enhanced my biceps and you looked adorably hot like a vicious kitten from hell."
°°°
@colourmeinblue @hail-horror-queen @youthought-iwasa-nicegirl @kmuir1 @madbaddic7ed @coffeebreathy @purplelove75 @summersong69 @helenaellie @rn7rocks
#henry cavill smut#syverson smut#henry cavill x reader#syverson x reader#henry cavill x ofc#syverson x ofc
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Irreverent Pt. 32 - The Ball
Title: Irreverent Pt. 32 - The Ball
Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader
Rating: R
Words: 3024
Irreverent Series Masterlist
Jack had had a sleepover the night prior and his friend had just left. The two boys barely slept all night and you and Hotch could both tell that Jack was exhausted. So, at the first sign of a yawn, you nudged him towards his room for a nap. You'd come over in the morning to help with breakfast because Aaron had been on his own the night before. You would've joined, but he'd insisted he could handle it and had pushed you to go hang out with Penelope and Emily instead. You hadn't told the team - even Emily - about the two of you yet. It had only been a couple of weeks since your first date and both of you wanted to keep this to yourselves for the time being.
You had, however, discussed telling Strauss. With the Ball nearly upon you, you figured you should tell her and make the relationship official sooner rather than alter to avoid having it seem as though you were hiding it. Aaron had agreed, though you could tell he didn't love having Strauss know his business. The two of them still had somewhat of an antagonistic relationship ever since she'd questioned his ability to lead the team soon after his divorce. When he'd told you about this, you'd been shocked. That would have been right around when you joined the team, and while yes he had been more subdued and quick to anger those first few months, you had hardly seen reason for Strauss to have questioned his leadership.
"Jack's asleep," you told him, when you found him in his room, finishing up folding the laundry. The yawn you'd been suppressing for a while finally came out.
He smiled at you as he folded the last shirt. "Sleepy?"
"Mm a little. Emily is seeing someone new and so of course Penelope pulled out her computer and now I know that he has a cousin in Utah that was arrested for a misdemeanor charge in 2006," you explained, as you helped him put the clothes away in his closet. You appreciated that Aaron was a very neat and orderly person. Everything had a spot and it was just how you would've done it yourself.
"Well," he said conspiratorially, as he came and hugged your from behind, "Jack is taking a nap. We could also take a nap."
He was holding you so close and he smelled just like his Irish Spring soap and musk and something sweet that was uniquely him. "I hope you actually mean a nap," you mumbled, as you felt his lips against your neck "because that sounds amazing."
He gave a low chuckle as he dragged you over to the bed so you both could lay down. You laid down right next to him, his arm under you as you slung an arm over his stomach and your leg over his. You were quiet for a few minutes, as he tried to let you actually sleep. His hands played gently with your hair and Aaron always ran so warm it was like sleeping with a personal heater. However, now that you were actually lying down, sleep was elusive. You tilted your head up to see him watching you with a slight smile on his face.
"That's not sleeping," he murmured, as he continued to gently massage your head. You'd always liked having someone play with your hair - it was so soothing.
"I'm not actually sleepy anymore," you admitted with a small pout.
"Hmm." His voice was still low and quiet, in the hope that you might be lulled into a nap anyways.
You reached up to his face, a single finger tracing the outline of his face, down his perfect nose, across his pink lips. You'd really allowed yourself to appreciate him lately and it continued to amaze you how breathtakingly beautiful he was. Part of you couldn't believe you hadn't noticed it before but the other part knew that you hadn't let yourself go there. He seemed to be enjoying your exploration as he closed his eyes and just let your fingers ghost over his features.
"Aaron?"
"Mmhm."
"Where do you want to be after the BAU?"
He opened his eyes to look at you, not expecting the question. "Why do you ask?"
"I don't know…I guess with the Ball approaching and us talking about my career and future and all that…I guess I just kind of wondered. What's next for you?"
He let out a large breath as you sat up slightly on your elbows to look at him properly.
"I don't know. When I first started I wanted to do the whole move up thing, but the longer I'm here I don't know if I'm suited for that." He had a far away look on his face - like it was a thought from so long ago that it was entirely removed from the person he was now.
"Why not?" you asked, as you watched him carefully.
"It's a lot of paperwork and a lot of…difficult decisions. With the BAU it's more clear cut - we catch bad guys. Occasionally things are more complicated, but overall I feel like I do good in the world and I get to go home and not worry about the politics of moving up."
"Hmm," you said, coming back down to lay on his chest again.
"What is it?"
"I think Director Hotchner has a nice ring to it," you shared, pressing a kiss to his chest.
"Director?" You could hear the amusement in his voice.
"Yeah, you'd be a great Director for the Bureau." You really truly believed that. He was such a great leader who commanded respect - yours and everyone else's.
"Well I'm glad I have someone's vote," he laughed, trying to brush off what you'd said. That was an ambition for the old him - the one that had just had a kid and was married to Haley and had a whole life in front of him.
"You'll always have mine," you confided, as you hugged him closer, burrowing in more to his side. "McKinney should be scared."
He had a really soft, perfect, I-am-Aaron-Hotchner-and-I-make-women-swoon smile on his face as he looked at you. Aaron brought his arms around you at that, kissing the top of your head. "I'm sure he's shaking in his boots as we speak."
*------------*
The meeting with Strauss had gone as well as could be expected really. You and Hotch had asked to meet with her early in the day, before anyone else got there and when you'd explained that you needed to declare an official relationship, she hadn't seemed all that surprised. Which was surprising to you at the very least.
"Have you told your team yet," she'd asked, as both you and Hotch sat in her office and filled out the required paperwork.
"No, not yet." Aaron had responded quickly, not looking up as he said it, concentrating on filling out all the details.
You smiled and looked at her, knowing you had to compensate for his utter dislike of this whole situation. "We just want to keep it to ourselves for now," you'd explained. "It's hard enough working with profilers without everyone knowing everything."
She'd nodded understandingly, but added, "Well, I doubt anyone would be too surprised. I wouldn't wait too long if I were you."
Aaron had simply smiled and stood up, but Strauss asked you to stay behind for a moment.
You looked at her in question as he walked out and closed the door behind him.
"You should know that this could impact the tapping process. I will do my best to ensure that it doesn't, however situations such as this can raise some eyebrows. Are you sure about this?"
You thought about what she was implying, turning to look at the seat Aaron had vacated just a moment ago, before looking back at her. "He's worth it." The answer came easily. It was just that simple.
*------------*
The night of the FBI Director's Ball came sooner than expected. You'd chosen to get ready beforehand with the girls, and the four of you had made a day of it. Aaron saw you when you entered the venue, having arrived only minutes earlier himself. You walked in with Emily and you were wearing a dark green gown which complimented you perfectly.
"Take a picture, it'll last longer."
Aaron startled, only to see Dave standing next to him in a matching tux, with a shit-eating grin on his face. Sometimes he forgot that Dave knew, since the rest of the team still didn't. He grabbed the drink proffered by Dave and rolled his eyes good naturedly. No use denying he'd been staring. "How're you liking her odds tonight?" he chose to ask instead, changing the subject.
It was common knowledge that the annual Director's Ball was where up and coming talent was recognized. Aaron himself hadn't gone through the tapping process, but had heard of Bureau stars who were tapped at the Ball, go on to lead new taskforces, teams, and missions - have great careers within the Bureau and beyond it.
"Good," Dave responded, taking a swig of his drink. "I spoke with Erin about it and she still seems pretty confident in her recommendation. She did have to bring up the matter of you two to McKinney, and the final decision will be his."
Aaron nodded as he saw you approach with the rest of the team. Everyone had decided to meet up early on and grab a table together, so you all began to walk over. Aaron conveniently made sure to find himself right beside you. "You look beautiful," he said, leaning in just barely. He saw the slight blush rise to your face as he complimented you, his eyes running appreciatively over you again.
"Thanks," you smiled, "you look pretty good too." He really did. The man could always pull off a suit, but a tux was just a whole new level of attractive.
He pulled out your chair for you as the group found an empty table in the main room and grabbed the seat right next to you. Emily had grabbed the one on your other side and everyone else had found a spot around the table. Past years, the Ball had been nothing more than an excuse to drink and eat on the Bureau's dime and have fun with your coworkers. This year, however, you had to network and get to know other Section Chiefs and anyone who rolled up directly to McKinney. Both Hotch and Rossi had told you that having all of those people on your side was of the utmost importance. Aaron had already been helping you out in that regard, making sure to bring you along to some inter-departmental meetings and getting your name and face out in front of other leaders. You'd asked if he was giving you special treatment, as you couldn't recall him having done this for anyone else. However, he had assured you that he was not, and that if Reid or JJ to want to move along a similar path, he'd do the same for them. Prentiss and Morgan had a lot more experience and connections of their own, so they wouldn't need him to run interference as much.
Once dinner concluded, the string band started playing ballroom music. You all watched as some coworkers began to lead their partners out onto the dance floor. Derek quickly asked Penelope to dance as well, and the two of them were off, with Will and JJ joining them soon after.
"Alright kiddo, let's do this." Rossi reached for your hand across the table and you quickly accepted, allowing him to lead you out onto the dance floor. He knew that with you, he'd at least be guaranteed a decent partner - Emily had both left feet.
"He's right, you know," Rossi said, as he gently spun you around the dance floor, "you do look beautiful."
You smiled. It was nice having someone know about the two of you.
"You really think I have a chance tonight?" Dave had some experience in this matter - more so than you or Aaron.
"They'd be idiots not to pick you." As he said this, the music changed, and Director McKinney had walked over to ask Rossi for your hand. Rossi graciously handed you off, swaying back to the table for his tenth drink of the night.
McKinney smiled at you and respectfully took your hand in his, his other at your waist. "Hello Agent L/N."
"Good evening, sir." Your heart was thudding in your chest, knowing this was the moment.
"You dance very well," he remarked, as he easily led you through the motions.
"I used to dance as a kid. Not easy to forget." You quickly flashed back to the numerous recitals and lessons - most of which your parents had missed.
"I see." He looked contemplative. Sighing, he says, "You should know, the recent revelation of your relationship complicated the decision making process slightly."
You choose to just nod, not trusting yourself to say anything constructive.
"However, I would like to inform you that you can consider yourself officially tapped."
You felt your heart jump as a large smile broke out across your face. "Thank you sir! I really appreciate it."
"You will be working with me directly. You should also know, the only reason this process was not pushed off the tracks is because it is Aaron you're with."
You looked at him in question, imploring him to continue.
"Agent Hotchner is above reproach. Were it anyone else, we'd have questions about the recommendations and reviews. However, I trust Aaron and so I trust that the two of you have done your due diligence and kept everything above board."
"We have, sir. Thank you. I very much appreciate the opportunity."
As he continues to spin you, you catch Aaron's eye over McKinney's shoulder. You quickly shoot him a grin and a wink, indicating that you got it. His face breaks out into the biggest smile, and you can see him making his way towards you through the crowd. He reaches the two of you right as the music changes, and seeing Aaron approach, McKinney stops.
"Aaron, good to see you."
"Director, how are you?"
The two of them shake hands and exchange pleasantries, before McKinney takes your leave to tend to other guests, promising to have his assistant get in touch with you very soon. Aaron takes that as an opportunity to grab your hand for the upcoming dances, pulling you in much closer than Rossi or McKinney had.
"Congratulations sweetheart," he whispers into your ear as he holds you close, swaying along to the music.
You look up at him and it takes everything in you to not kiss him right there in front of everyone. He catches the look in your eye, because he maneuvers the two of you to a corner of the dance floor where no one on the team is around. Squeezing your hand, he quickly looks around, before leading you off the end and out a side door. Having seen a supply closet across the way, he urges you to follow inside, closing the door behind.
Before you could take another breath, his mouth is greedily on yours, tasting you and drawing out a breathy moan, his name on your lips. Your back is pressed up sharply against a shelf, but the need to just touch him and feel him far surpasses the discomfort. You find yourself unbuttoning his shirt, just to be able to feel skin while he continues to explore your mouth.
His hands have worked their way under the dress and his hands roamed upwards and came in contact with your bare ass. Aaron pulls away, a little surprised at the thong, before returning to his exploration.
You'd managed to open up the collar of his shirt and move your mouth from his, resulting in a whine that turns into a moan as your lips come in contact with his neck. The desire to mark him as yours is something new you're experiencing, but your dedication to the task at hand rewards you with more sounds.
Not satisfied being alone in his ecstasy, Aaron's hand grazes over your breast, drawing a sharp inhale from you as a knot starts to form in your stomach.
"Do you like that?" his voice smooth despite him being a moaning mess a second earlier. You watch as his fingers ghost over your breast and your nipple hardens under his touch. "What about that?" He looks up finally to meet your eyes and his pupils are dilated beyond belief. Briefly you wonder what you must look like.
You'd never really pegged yourself for being much of a talker, but having Aaron talk to you as he touched you was definitely a turn on. You nod shakily, prompting him to cup your breast and run his thumb over the bud, maintaining his eyes on yours. You're afraid you're going to be too loud, so you reach up and kiss him again, allowing him to swallow your moans as he continues his ministrations. You can feel the dampness growing in your underwear and you swear you blacked out for a second when he breaks away from your mouth and takes a nipple into his mouth instead, biting gently through the fabric of your dress.
"Aaron!" You meant for it to be a sharp rebuke but instead what came out could really only be a groan of pleasure.
He looked up at you with false innocence, knowing exactly the effect he'd had on you. However, taking note of where you two were at the moment, he returns his attention to your mouth with promises of continuing later.
By the time the two of you leave the supply closet, trying not to look as though you'd spent the past thirty minutes engaged in intense foreplay, the party was dwindling down and your friends had been looking for you for quite some time.
#criminal minds#criminal minds imagine#criminal minds reader insert#aaron hotchner#aaron hotch x reader#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner x you#aaron hotchner x y/n#hotch x reader#hotch x you#hotchner imagine#hotchner x you#hotchner x reader#irreverentseries
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Stark Spangled Banner
One Shot: The Life Of Marv
Summary: Katie rescues a Turkey from slaughter, much to Tony’s annoyance.
Warnings: Language!
A/N- This was written as requested to accompany Ch 11: A Turkey Called Marv in Stark Spangled Banner, and fills us in on Marv the Turkey, and how he became a much loved (well, sorta!) Stark family Pet...
Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist
November 2001
It was a complete accident. Well, not going veggie, but Katie didn’t mean to steal the poor thing from the farm. She really didn’t. Well at least that’s what she told Tony. And now it was sat in the large, sprawling grounds of the Malibu mansion whilst Tony simply pinched the bridge of his nose and glared at his 17 year old sister.
“This has to be up there with the most DUMB assed things you have ever done”. He rolled his eyes. “Ever”
“I couldn’t leave him” Katie said, “he was lonely and gonna end up someones Thanksgiving dinner.”
“Its a fucking turkey Kiddo." Tony groaned, watching the bird strut around the grounds, completely non-plussed at being uprooted from the farmyard 20 miles up the road "that’s what he was bred for”
“Meat is murder Tony”
“Oh for fucks sake…” he groaned “you know, I put up with this bullshit, the blue hair, the fucking emo clothes…but no. The Turkey goes back”
“Best catch it then” Katie said, shrugging “I ain’t taking Marv back to be killed.”
“Marv?” Rhodey asked, from where he was stood next to Tony “you called him Marv?”
“He looks like Marv from Home Alone”
“No, he looks like a turkey. A stolen turkey” Tony sighed “Rhodey, gimme a hand man…”
“Oh no.” Rhodey shook his head “this is all yours Tony”
“I’ll remember that…” Tony glared and stepped towards the bird. Instantly it flares its feathers up and made some kind of growling noise and launched at Tony who staggered backwards, toppling over one of the chairs that was positioned on the grounds. Katie doubled over with laughter and Rhodey let out a small snigger as Tony stood up, dusting down his jeans.
“What the fuck?” He looked at Katie “how did you get near it?”
Katie shrugged and walked over to Marv who looked at her shrewdly before he fluffed down his feathers and she bent to pick him up.
“He likes me”
“I give in.” Tony groaned “I raised a stubborn, pig headed asshole”
So Marv the Turkey lived for thanksgiving.
*****
November 2002
“Hey Marv” Katie cooed, stepping into the large pen that was the turkey’s home. The bird strutted out of the large dog kennel he used as a house and Katie sat down, holding out her hand which contained a few blackberries. The turkey pecked at the fruit and she gently stroked his head before standing up and opening the gate to let him out of his pen. He followed Katie round the pool area and when she sat down on one of the loungers he plopped himself in the shade next to her, his eyes flicking around.
“Just look…” Tony gestured to his sister and that fucking bird. Obediah snickered a little at the sight of the turkey sitting next to Katie like an obedient lap dog.
“I think it’s funny…”
“You would.” Tony took a pull from his beer
“This is kinda your fault for not getting her a dog.” Obi laughed.
“How is this my fault?” Tony sputtered “she robbed the damned thing last year at Thanksgiving. Is that it, every time I say no to something she goes and steals?”
Obi clapped him on the shoulder as Tony made his way to the large bi-folding doors.
“Kiddo… you want eats?”
At the sound of Tony’s voice the turkey jumped to its feet and made a low chucking noise, and Katie laughed as Tony narrowed his eyes.
“That thing is getting cooked this year.” He glowered.
But he didn’t. And Marv the turkey lived for another Thanksgiving.
****
November 2003
“Katie you can’t take the damned bird to the UK.”
“But he hates you.” She looked at Tony. “How you gonna feed him and clean him out?”
“I’m not. He’s gonna go to a farm”
“Don’t you dare.” She hissed.
“Don’t worry, I wont let him.” Pepper soothed as the dark haired girl crossed her arms and glared at her brother “I’ll make sure Marv stays”
“Where is the little bastard anyway?” Tony asked, looking out into the yard.
“Erm… I dunno.” Katie frowned “Marv… MARV…”
She headed off in search of her beloved bird and her calls suddenly got more frantic.
“Did you let him go?” She demanded of Tony.
“Trust me I would love nothing more.” Tony sighed “but it’s more than my life is worth. He has to be around here somewhere…”
An hour it took until they finally located him in the downstairs bathroom, surrounded by an entire roll of shredded toilet paper.
“I fucking hate that bird” Tony grumbled as Katie and Pepper tried and failed, miserably to hide their laughter.
And Marv the turkey lived for another thanksgiving.
****
November 2004
“I swear he has been fine with me all term whilst you have been away!” Tony said, pulling his legs up onto the chair to avoid the bird pecking him to bits. “You saw the photos!”
“Maybe he is just protective!” Katie grinned, reaching down and picking Marv up. He settled on her knee with a ruffle of feathers and closed his eyes, cooing softly as Katie gently ran her fingers over the top of his head.
“Or maybe he is a giant ass hole” Tony grumbled, looking at the bird over his sunglasses.
“Shhh don’t listen to him Marv” Katie said, putting her hands over where the birds ears would be, or are, maybe, Tony has no idea. “Ooooh maybe we should get him a girlfriend”
Tony sputtered and looked at his sister “no fucking way.”
“I’m only teasing” Katie sighed.
“What do you fancy for lunch? Tony asked "I got some of that quinoa stuff and halloumi, thought we could knock up a salad…”
“Great.” Katie beamed “but you know I’m not veggie anymore right?”
“Since when?” Tony rolled his eyes.
“Since I discovered British bacon” she sighed. “Plus i decided its more about how the animals are kept before they die, ya know? So I make sure it’s all free range, organically farmed stuff…”
Tony ran a hand over his face before he shot the turkey a sly look “so, this Thanksgiving…” he mimed necking the animal and Katie glared at him.
“No. He is a pet. I’m not eating him”
So Marv the turkey lived for another thanksgiving.
****
November 2005
Tony threw a cob of corn into the pen where Marv was strutting about.
“Eat that you little shit” he grumbled, as the turkey eyed him beadily before he strutted over to the food and began to peck.
“Think you need a new house” he said, pulling his jacket further around himself as the November wind coming from the ocean was slightly chilly. He walked round to the side of the dog kennel. The wood was starting to crack and splinter. Pulling out his phone he quickly googled for pet houses and came across something that looked pretty cool. A plastic igloo shaped thing for rabbits. He sent a photo to Katie who called him within 5 minutes as he had just locked the turkey up for the night and headed into the kitchen.
“You buying Marv presents?” She giggled
“The kennel looks scruffy.” He shrugged simply “thought this would be better.”
“He will love it” she laughed.
They talked for an hour or so before she excused herself to pack, as her flight home for the holidays was the next day. Tony glanced once more out of the window into the yard to see Marv retreating into his kennel with a strut and a ruffle of feathers. Rolling his eyes he flicked off the lights and headed down to his workshop.
“Jarvis, pull up a photo of a Eglu rabbit house” he said, rolling up his sleeves “and convert it to a blue print”
“Stark Industries branching out into pet houses now Sir?” The AI asked, amusement in his tone.
“Something like that.” Tony grumbled.
And Marv the turkey lived another thanksgiving.
******
November 2006
Tony knew instantly when Katie went outside and peeked into the pet house that something was wrong. She wrenched open the hood and reached in and turned to the house with the bird in her arms.
“I think he is sick…” she said, her tone laced with worry as she carried Marv into the kitchen. Tony peered down at the bird, and he had to admit he didn’t look well. His eyes were closed and his breathing was heavy.
“Take him into the lounge” he said softly. Katie sniffed slightly and carried him through the kitchen and Tony sighed.
“Jarvis… what is the average lifespan for a turkey?” He asked quietly.
“The maximum recorded lifespan for a turkey in captivity is twelve years and four months. For turkeys living in the wild, the maximum is less than ten years, but the average life expectancy of a male turkey is just over 2 years and just over 3 years for females.” Jarvis replied.
Tony shook his head and sighed, grabbed the punnet of blackberries from the fridge and made his way into the lounge where Katie was sat with Marv now wrapped in a blanket by the fire.
He sat in front of her and gently offered a handful of the fruit to the bird. It looked at him and then viciously pecked at his hand.
“Bastard” Tony hissed, shaking his hand out and wincing as Katie laughed. Marv ruffled his feathers and closed his eyes. Half an hour later he ruffled and clucked for the last time.
And Marv the Turkey didn’t live for another Thanksgiving.
**Original Posting**
#stark spangled banner#one shot#steve rogers#steve rogers fanfiction#steve rogers x ofc#steve rogers x original female character#Katie Stark#tony stark#mcu#mcu fanfic
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could it be this misery will suffice?
summary: ben’s first time in the forest by himself since october, trying to find the solace he once found there to help clear his mind of the memories this time of year raised.
December 24, 2006
“Is it true?”
The room was dead silent as they waited for his answer. Silence: it was completely out of place for his grandparent’s home. A moment of peace was rare to find within the walls unless by some miracle you had it all to yourself. That wasn’t the case now. The house was full of people, which Ben was acutely aware of. It was a fact that made the silence even more painful to endure as the confrontation unfolded.
He could lie. Get through the rest of the visit by playing it off as nothing. Let it go until the moment was right, so it could all go the way he wanted it to. Planned for it to go. He should have known better. You can carefully map out your life, but that doesn’t come with a guarantee that it’ll go exactly that way.
Yes, he could lie. But he wasn’t a liar. Even if it came down to it, he wouldn’t be able to tell a lie to save his own life. This situation was starting to feel like a life or death one. No, no that was silly. He was safe here… Wasn’t he?
His eyes had been firmly on the floor this whole time, too afraid of what he might see written on all the faces present if he looked up. He was out of time now, clear by the loud thud of his great uncle slamming his hand down on the table next to them, making Ben flinch.
“Answer me!”
Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath, scrounging up all the courage he could to look at the man demanding an answer from him in the eye. He could hear footsteps beginning to approach the living room, faintly making out the concerned voices of his father and grandparents. They’d understand. Everything would be okay.
“Yes.”
There’s a beat of silence. Then he was on the ground, reeling from the unexpected blow to his head. Everything becomes a blur of sounds and shapes. All he is aware of is the pain coursing through his body until it all fades to black.
Why couldn’t he be a liar?
December 25, 2020
12:30 am
Ben woke up on the floor heaving for breath. For a moment, he wasn’t sure where he was. He lay frozen on the ground for who knows how long, preparing for the next blow to come. It wasn’t until Iseul’s head suddenly came into view that he realized where he was. That he was safe.
Relief flooded him as he closed his eyes, taking a moment to calm his breathing. Iseul began nudging his cheek with her cold nose. He looked at her, mustering a small smile as he reached out to pet her head. “I’m okay, Iseul.” He’s not sure if his words made an impact or if it was just pets, but Iseul began to lick his face, tail thumping against the wall as she did. A breathy laugh escaped him at her antics. That was exactly what he needed to steady himself from the nightmare he had just woken from. From the memory he always found himself reliving on this day.
He sat up after a few seconds, a quiet sigh escaping him as he checked the time. Once he was sitting, Iseul had made her way back onto his bed, no doubt ready to get back to a restful sleep. She gave him what he imagined was an expectant look, waiting for him to get back on the bed as well. Sleep was the last thing on his mind now. He was sure if he tried to, he’d just end up back there on the living room floor.
Untangling his legs from his blanket, he tossed it back onto the bed before standing up. His eyes darted around the room in search of something to put his mind at ease. Nothing felt right though, it all just made him feel more weary. Another sigh, fingers brushing through his hair as his eyes did another once over the room as if something would suddenly appear to appease him by sheer will.
In the last two months, there had been lots of changes made to the furniture in his apartment. All an attempt to make it feel like home once again, but standing there now he was overly aware of how his attempts had not done anything to fix anything. Nothing could erase all that had happened so easily.
It didn’t take long for him to get dressed to face the winter weather once he realized that he was not going to find any solace within the walls of his apartment. Iseul lay on the bed, watching as he moved around, only raising her head when he got to the stairs leading downstairs.
“I’ll be back soon.”
A shiver ran through him as he exited the clinic, the frigid temperature enveloping him at once. He could handle cold weather easily, it was something he had grown up with after all. But even after five years it still struck him how quiet it became in Pelican Town after it snowed. Especially at night.
When he had gone on late night walks during the winter, whether it had been Kingston or New York, there had been sounds of life still going on around him. Whether it was distant sounds of cars driving by or muffled sounds coming from within the buildings. It was enough to let him know he was not alone out there. Not really.
But here? The silence was deafening.
Only the sound of his footsteps followed him that night as he made his way along the path. Before everything that had happened, he would have put headphones on, listening to music as he went on his walks by himself, especially at night, to avoid leaving his mind unoccupied for too long.
Lately though, he found himself just enjoying the stillness of the night. Just a moment to be with himself. To reflect on his thoughts. Something he had spent the better part of his life trying not to do. He was always too afraid of what ugly realization of himself might rear its head if he gave it a chance to. It wasn’t as easy to treat himself with kindness to those sorts of thoughts as it was with others who might feel the same way about themselves.
Ben came to a halt at the entrance of Cindersnap Forest, taking a deep breath as he took in the sight of the threes, ignoring how the cold air hurt his lungs. It had been so long since he had entered the forest by himself, the events of October still clouding his thoughts of the place. For a moment he considered turning around, making his way somewhere else, just to put this moment off for a bit longer.
His gaze moved in the direction of Henry’s home, remembering how he agreed to not hold back from telling him things. That he wouldn’t suffer on his own. No, no he couldn’t. This was an entirely different kind of hurt, one that lived in him longer than he had even known Henry. He couldn’t just… It was just another thing to hold back. Besides, it was the middle of the night, and he wouldn’t just be disturbing Henry’s sleep if he knocked on the door now. He bit his lip, gaze moving to the path he knew he could take to Malia’s house. Hadn’t he already told her part of the story? Maybe it would be easier to get off his chest with her because of that. No, he couldn’t disturb her sleep either. Nor did he want to burden her with that pain any further, especially after the anniversary of her mother’s death had only been a few days prior. There was Adria, maybe even Sloane but there wasn’t any point in considering either of them further when he realized he would just use the time of night to justify not disturbing them.
He slowly began to trudge forward, eyes flickering around to take in the beauty the night had to offer. The snow blanketing the ground and dusting tree limbs was gently glowing in the moonlight. A stark contrast to the dark leaves peeking out at the bottom of the branches and the night sky. He had missed this.
Then he reached the clearing with the lake, once again halting in his steps. Another deep breath making his lungs ache. A light layer of snow had settled on to the frozen lake and the dock as well. There was a moment of consideration before he stepped onto the dock, the creak of the wood underneath his foot familiar, and welcomed. He took a seat at the end of the dock, not minding the cold seeping through his jeans from the light snow and wood.
The view from the dock was beautiful, comforting even in an odd way. How many winter days had he spent out here, watching people skate or snow ball fights going on within the trees. There was even that one year a few kids had started a snowman building contest, lining them along one side of the lake. Those were the things he should be focusing on when he thought about this place and what it meant to him. The sort of things that made him fall in love with the valley a little bit more each time he got to witness them. He wished that all that happened in October didn’t happen, that it didn’t cloud his view on his home for as long as it did. It did happen though. It did make him question everything about Stardew Valley for a while. He just needed to make peace with it and move forward.
December 15, 2020
“Did you forgive yourself?”
Ben gave the older woman sitting across from him a perplexed look, not sure what to make of her question. She responded with a kind smile that had an underlying tone of triumph he thought. He may have been reading too much into that though.
This therapist may have been new to him, but it wasn’t his first time seeing one. So he may have been quick to move past issues he had already worked on with previous therapists. Quick to answer any prodding questions with a practiced ease. She had been nothing but patient with him and his antics. Still he knew that must have been frustrating to a certain extent. The thing was he was here to resolve something completely new, what was the point of delving into the older stuff?
He knew the point. He just wanted to move forward and not look back. He hated looking back.
“I’m sorry,” he cleared his throat, tilting his head as he eyed her. “Forgive myself for what exactly?” Her smile only widened as she looked back at him, crossing one leg over the other. Definitely a note of smugness in her smile at being able to derail him from his attempt at moving past ‘the core of his problems.’ He rubbed his temple, a frown forming on his face before his therapist finally began to answer him.
“Even though you have acknowledged that what happened to you was not your fault, it is clear that you still hold yourself accountable for it,” she fixed him with a stern look when he opened his mouth. The sort of look that made it clear that even if he tried to deny it, she would not believe him. He closed his mouth, leaning back with a defeated look.
“You’ve forgiven everyone else that was there that night, even your attacker, who one might argue did not deserve that sort of compassion from you after what happened. So why were you able to forgive them but not yourself? Do you not consider yourself worthy of the same kind of compassion you showed them?”
He didn’t say anything.
December 25, 2020
7:30 am
Somehow just a walk to clear his mind had turned into several hours of stargazing and contemplating. The hint of the sun beginning to rise was the only thing able to break him from his trance. As he got to his feet, he paused to look at the view from the dock one more time. He took a deep breath, just allowing himself one more moment. One more moment to feel everything a little bit more freely. To appreciate his step towards regaining the sense of comfort this spot once held for him. He turns around, heading back into town, feeling lighter on his journey back to the clinic than he had been when leaving.
December 15, 2020
“If it’s not my fault, what am I forgiving myself for?”
A satisfied smile fell on her face — he must have asked the question she had been hoping he would. “For blaming yourself to begin with,” she answered, writing on her notepad as she did. She paused, meeting his eyes with a more reassuring smile as she added: “For letting it shape how you view yourself for so long.”
It was such a kind way of alluding to his self hatred that it made him want to laugh. Or cry. His conflicted emotions must have shown, or maybe it was his lack of his response that encouraged his therapist to continue.
“You deserve the peace you’ve so readily offered others, Ben.”
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ɴᴏᴡ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ: Fireflies by Owl City
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◄◄⠀▐▐ ⠀►►⠀⠀ ⠀ 1:17 / 3:48 ⠀ ───○ 🔊⠀ ᴴᴰ ⚙ ❐ ⊏⊐
Can you believe that these glowing light in the waters are sea fireflies? Everything is indeed never as it seems.
I bet you were awestruck[cod]!
Now, these millions of sea fireflies would like to wave “Hi!” as you go through the blog and get to know the bioluminescent ostracods under genus Vargula.
CLASSIFICATION
Kingdom: Animalia
Subkingdom: Bilateria
Infrakingdom: Protostomia
Superphylum: Ecdysozoa
Phylum: Arthropoda
Subphylum: Crustacea
Class: Ostracoda
Subclass: Myodocopa
Order: Myodocopida
Suborder: Myodocopina
Superfamily: Cypridinoidea
Family: Cypridinidae
Genus: Vargula
Species Name: Vargula annecohenae
(ITIS nd ; Cohen and Morin, 2010)
BIOLOGY
Cod you see me?
Ostracods can be found in basically every aquatic environment ranging from marine, freshwater, and estuarine habitats. These organisms are either swimming in the surface waters or crawling on the sea bed and moist land. Their distribution depends on their adaptations to environmental parameters, mainly salinity and water temperature. Vargula species inhabit the Pacific Ocean and Caribbean Sea coastal landmasses (Wilkinson, 1996; Ogoh & Ohmiya, 2005).
Although they are everywhere, ostracods rarely grow to a few millimeters long; small but (Pechenik, 2015). A single organism can’t be easily seen unless we look closely. Still, they’re small but widespread.
What do you mistake me as?
Ostracoda is an ancient group of crustaceans. Surprised?
The unsegmented external feature separates them from other crustaceans (Pechenik, 2015). Besides this, they resemble bivalves by having their entire body laterally enclosed inside a pair of partially calcified carapace or shells held by adductor muscles, even during early development; hence, the common name — mussel shrimp (Moore, 2006).
They are also similar to branchiopods Conchostraca (clam shrimps) such as water fleas, but the appendages, lack of growth rings, and smooth swimming of mussel shrimps gave it away. Another feature that differentiates both is the carapace formation. Clam shrimps add material to their carapace as they grow, while mussel shrimps shed their carapace with each molt (UC Museum of Paleontology, 1995).
Mussel shrimps are mostly head which means that the other body parts are greatly reduced. Their trunk is merged to the head. Usually, they have seven pairs of appendages adapted for locomotion, grasping, feeding, cleaning the carapace, or as sense organs. Vargula uses two pairs of antennae for swimming, some species only utilize one pair or the other. Notably, they have setae or tiny hairs protruding through the carapace pores that function for sensory mechanisms (Wilkinson, 1996; Pechenik, 2015).
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A light show to remember
Bioluminescence is often used, but only by males of the species V. annecohenae, for mating displays. Males of each species, like fireflies on land, use distinct patterns of light flashes (seen as a series of dots) that only attract females of the same species. By performing brief dances in which they release short bursts of light as they pass towards the surface of the water, males show off just how sparkling they can be. They start their "dance," which lasts 45 minutes on average, with a stationary period in which brief (second-long or shorter) flashes of bright blue light are produced, attracting the interest of possible female mates. Then in the next process, males spiral up the water column vertically, producing quicker light bursts that are less bright (Gonzales, 2017).
(Courtesy of Gretchen Gerrish)
We compete to procreate
The male grabs onto his newfound partner with his antennae if a male is successful and an interested female arrives, and the pair will mate. Competition is intense, sometimes a woman's attention is won by the brightest male, but males can also impress by synchronizing their lighting display with other males or creeping up and taking a mate from another male (Gonzales,2017).
Life cycle
V. annecohenae has a long life cycle of up to about 1 year. It typically develops slowly for 3 months before adulthood. It has several broods of a few offspring numbering between 10-15, and has no free-living larval stage (Gerrish and Morin, 2008).
Five juvenile instars constitute the life cycle of Photeros annecohenae The life cycle of an ostracod in the genus Vargula (now Photeros) are divided by molts (that occur by the ecdysis) as well as an adult instar that is followed by a final molt (Gerrish and Morin, 2008).
The total growth period of ostracod eggs and embryos in females was 26 days, with an average of 7.84 days for the interval between mating and brood deposition, and an average of 18.4 days for the eventual release from the brood chamber. Eggs initially become evident within the female's body during development. While inside the mother's body, eggs increase in size but exhibit no other noticeable morphological changes. Females discharge fertilized embryos as translucent, spheroidal, or ovoidal masses into the marsupium or brood chamber (Gerrish and Morin, 2008).
(a) One egg of this female has been released into the marsupium and the four remaining eggs are visible in the female ovary. (b) The eggs are extruded into a marsupial brood pouch after 7-8 days. Each egg consists of a large yolk mass at this stage, and the cells inside are barely visible. C) Cell division has created a defined, cloudy cellular mass that fills the egg by day nine in the brood pouch. D) The first apparent structures include the naupliar eye, a red speck, and the intestine as the embryo develops its organs. E) The embryos appear as A-V instars with a large brown eye spot and a fully developed and functioning light organ just before release (Gerrish and Morin, 2008).
I have a sperm bank?
Female V. annecohenae can produce several broods without male re-exposure. suggesting that sperm is stored between broods (Gerrish and Morin, 2008).
I’m a natural
15-17 days after a previous cohort was released new broods can be formed (Gerrish and Morin, 2008).
ECOLOGY
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Ostracods are considered to be useful paleoenvironmental indicators because their ecology is often reflected in the shape and structure of their carapaces and also considering their wide distribution in aquatic environments. They can range from warm waters of the tropics to very cold environments such as polar seas and are found from intertidal zones to many thousands of meters depth in the deep sea. They can also thrive in freshwater niches such as rivers, lakes, and even temporary ponds (Brandão & Karanovic, 2020). Generally, ostracods are characterized as omnivorous scavengers because they mainly feed on tiny organisms like algae, diatoms, bacteria, molds, and pieces of organic detritus that are present in the water or on vegetation. Some ostracods are also predatory. Being relatively smaller, they attack their prey in groups so that they can eat organisms larger than them. However, ostracods are also often preyed by small fishes (MESA, 2020).
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Freshwater ostracods usually have smooth, thin, weakly calcified simple bean-shaped carapaces and feed on diatoms, bacteria, and detritus. On the other hand, pelagic ostracods may also have thin, smooth shells but they have long powerful swimming appendages or antennules. The formation of rostral incisures at the anterior of the carapace of pelagic ostracods allowed freer movement of these appendages. Furthermore, benthic ostracods are commonly detritivores or filter feeders. Their carapace is usually smooth, small, robust, and sometimes elongated because they tend to burrow into the substrate. Epifaunal ostracods have flattened ventral surfaces sometimes with projecting alar wings, frills, keels, or lateral spines while those found on coarser substrates in higher energy environments tend to have more robust heavily ribbed or reticulated carapaces (Olney, 2002).
RELATIONSHIP TO HUMANS
Generally, ostracods are useful for scientific purposes. According to Boomer et al. (2013), ostracods are being used in studies of earth science and related disciplines such as archaeology, ecology, and genetics. This is because ostracods are widely distributed and are easily preservable. Their assemblage and morphology are some of the important ecological proxies. For instance, in recent research conducted by McCormack et al. (2018) wherein ostracods are being used as a bioindicator. Their research has shown the sensitivity of ostracods’ faunal assemblage (Candona sp.) to changes in water salinity and alkalinity in Lake Van.
Next, valves of ostracods are also being used in paleoenvironmental studies. Valves of ostracods are said to absorb trace elements from host waters (Palacios-Fest et al., 1994). This characteristic makes these microcrustaceans ideal models for reconstructing and analyzing past environments that could range from deep-seas to small lakes. Aside from this, the diversity and variety of reproductive modes of ostracods are also one of the main reasons why they are being used as model organisms for laboratory and research studies (Martens & Hornes, 2009).
Moreover, laboratories have started culturing bioluminescent ostracods. The culture of these organisms is done to determine the biosynthetic pathways of bioluminescent substrates that could lead to the discovery of new tools for biotechnology and biomedicine. For instance, in the study conducted by Goodheart et al. (2019) wherein they cultured California Sea Firefly (V. tsuji) for studies regarding the biosynthetic pathway of cypridinid luciferin and genomic manipulation of an autogenic bioluminescent system.
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Serve the Teaaaaa!
The T in Osctracod means Teaaaaa! 5 amazing facts you need to know about ostracods.
1. OLD BUT GOLD
Colymbosathon ecplecticos, a species of ostracod, holds the record of oldest known fossil penis. The historical penis was discovered from a 425 million-year-old rock in England. It was said that a wide variety of animals living in the sea 425 million years ago were killed by an ash fall from a volcanic eruption. However, the ash preserved the animals, including their soft parts. Through technology, the painstaking 3-D reconstructions of a preserved male ostracod revealed amazing details such as the hairs on limbs, gills, and a penis.
2. LIGHT IT UP LIKE A DYNAMITE
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Some species of Myodocopida ostracods produce a bright blue light. These are known in Japan as Umi-Hotaru or sea-fireflies. The light is produced by mixing two chemicals together in the presence of oxygen and is for mating displays. Each species flash at different rates to stop any confusion in the dark. Japanese army collected Umi-Hotaru in baited traps during the Second World War. They dry them out and ground them down to a powder. Adding a small amount of water to the powder produces a low-intensity light used by soldiers to read orders or maps without giving their position away to the enemy during battles.
3. ULTIMATE SURVIVOR
Ostracods can survive being eaten by fish. Experiments with the ostracod Cypridopsis vidua showed that 26% of specimens eaten by small bluegill sunfish came out the other end alive and unharmed. This is possible because ostracods can close their shells very tightly inside their carapace to survive passage through the gut of the fish eventually to be excreted out by the fish.
4. OSTRACODS ARE OMNIPRESENT
Ostracods are found in almost every aquatic habitat, even in some very small and isolated places. They are found deep in the sea, on the shore, on wet leaf litters, springs, groundwaters, puddles, small pools, rice fields, ponds, lakes, and rivers. Some species have a global distribution and are found from the subarctic to the tropics. Their dispersal abilities caused this massive distribution of ostracods. For example, the eggs and adults can hitch a lift on the feet of birds and are displaced because of migration.
5. WE DON’T DIE, JUST DRY
The ostracod eggs can be viable many years after being dried. This is the reason why many freshwater ostracods can be found in temporary water bodies, such as puddles and rice fields. These eggs start to develop and hatch when water is already available in their environment
References
Boomer, I., et al. (2003). The Use of Ostracods in Palaeoenvironmental Studies, or What can you do with an Ostracod Shell? The Paleontological Society Papers. https://doi.org/10.1017/S1089332600002199
Brandão, S.N.; Karanovic, I. (2020). World Ostracoda Database. Accessed at http://www.marinespecies.org/ostracoda on 2020-11-15. doi:10.14284/364
Cohen, A. C.; Morin, J. G. (2010). Two New Bioluminescent Ostracode Genera, Enewton And Photeros (Myodocopida: Cypridinidae), with Three New Species from Jamaica. Journal of Crustacean Biology. 30(1): 1-55., https://doi.org/10.1651/08-3075.1
Gonzales, M.R. (2017). You Light Up My World! Smithsonian. https://ocean.si.edu/ocean-life/invertebrates/you-light-my-world
Goodheart, J., et al. (2019). Laboratory culture of the California Sea Firefly Vargula tsujii (Ostracoda: Cypridinidae): Developing a model system for the evolution of marine bioluminescence. Research Gate. https://www.researchgate.net/publication/334600678_Laboratory_culture_of_the_California_Sea_Firefly_Vargula_tsujii_Ostracoda_Cypridinidae_Developing_a_model_system_for_the_evolution_of_marine_bioluminescence
Gretchen A. Gerrish, James G. Morin, Life Cycle of a Bioluminescent Marine Ostracode, Vargula Annecohenae (Myodocopida: Cypridinidae), Journal of Crustacean Biology, Volume 28, Issue 4, 1 October 2008, Pages 669–674, https://doi.org/10.1651/07-2934.1
Horne, D. J. & Smith, R. J. (2004). First British record of Potamocypris humilis (Sars, 1924), a freshwater ostracod with a disjunct distribution in northern Europe and southern Africa. Bollettino della Societe Paleontologica Italiana, 43 (1-2), 297-306.
Laessle, A. M. 1961. A micro-limnological study of Jamaican Bromeliads. Ecology, 42, 499-517.
Martens, K., and Horne, D.J. (2009). Ostracoda. https://doi.org/10.1016/B978-012370626-3.00184-8
McCormack, J., et al. 2019. Ostracods as ecological and isotopic indicators of lake water salinity changes: the Lake Van example. Biogeosciences, 16, 2095–2114, 2019 https://doi.org/10.5194/bg-16-2095-2019
MESA. 2020. Ostracods. Marine Education Society of Australia. http://www.mesa.edu.au/crustaceans/crustaceans03.asp
Moore, J. (2006). An Introduction to the Invertebrates (2nd ed.). Cambridge University Press.
Morin, J. G. and Cohen, A. C. 1991. Bioluminescent displays, courtship, and reproduction in ostracodes. In R. Bauer and Martin, J. (Eds.), Crustacean Sexual Biology:1 16. New York:Columbia University Press.
Ogoh, K. Ohmiya, Y. (2005). Biogeography of Luminous Marine Ostracod Driven Irreversibly by the Japan Current. Molecular Biology Evolution, 22(7):1543-1545. https://doi.org/10.1093/molbev/msi155]
Olney, M. (2002). Ostracods. Microfossil image recovery and circulation for learning and education. https://www.ucl.ac.uk/GeolSci/micropal/ostracod.html
Palacios-Fest, M.R., et al. (1994). Use of ostracodes as paleoenvironmental tools in the interpretation of ancient lacustrine records. Revista Espanola de Paleontologia 9(2):145-164. https://www.researchgate.net/publication/291990499_Use_of_ostracodes_as_paleoenvironmental_tools_in_the_interpretation_of_ancient_lacustrine_records
Pechenik, J. A. (2015). Biology of Invertebrates (7th ed.). McGraw-Hill Education.
Sars, G. O. 1895. On some South-African Entomostraca raised from dried mud. Skrifter i Videnskabs-selskabet. I. Mathematisk-Naturvidenskabs Klasse 1895 (8): 1-56.
Sars, G. O. 1896. On some west Australian Entomostraca raised from dried sand. Arch. Math. Naturv. 18, 1-35.
Seidel, B. 1989. Phoresis of Cyclocypris ovum (Jurine) (Ostracoda, Podocopida, Cyprididae) on Bombina variegata (L.) (Anura, Amphibia) and Triruris vulgaris (L.) (Urodela, Amphibia). Crustaceana 57, 171-176.
Siveter, D. J., Sutton, M. D., Briggs, D. E. G. & Siveter, D. J. 2003. An ostracod crustacean with soft parts from the Lower Silurian. Science, 302, 1749 - 1751.
UC Museum of Paleontology. (1995). Introduction to the Ostracoda. https://ucmp.berkeley.edu/arthropoda/crustacea/maxillopoda/ostracoda.html
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I would wait and wait and cough; and still grandfather wouldn’t look round.
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It also allows me to report that while it never fun sleeping in an economy class seat it can be done with five inches of recline and 31 inches of leg room (on the lower end of the scale for a longhaul flight). Then ask them the same question again. A Ravenna area resident since 1953, he also a pillar of the community, having served as a volunteer for 40 years at the Skeels Center in Ravenna Township, where for 25 years he delivered food donations. The auctioneer stood on the portico of the house, and the “men and boys” were ranging in the yard for inspection. The more I give him, the more he wants. Interment will follow at Sunset Memorial Park, 924 Menaul Blvd. Why would I want a rock? My manse is large enough for any man, and more comfortable than your drafty Westerosi castles. The space includes a wet bar and flows easily into a custom designed kitchen with clean contemporary lines.. As befit his rank and station, Quentyn Martell had been given papuci de casa din pasla quarters within the Great Pyramid, two levels down—a handsome suite of rooms with its own privy and walled terrace. Discussion must and will come. “Man or woman, young or old, lord or peasant, our choices are the same.” Her voice made Jon Snow think of anise and nutmeg and cloves. The overclocked ASUS GTX 660 Ti DC II TOP was 7.5% faster and averaged 65.8 FPS. The towers in her fire had been different, but that was oft the way with visions. Ford is taking a significant gamble here, as volumes in this minivan subset have historically been very low and the body counts high (anyone remember the Nissan Stanza Wagon or Axxess? Mitsubishi Expo LRV? Colt Vista? Isuzu Oasis?). The horses plodded on, the litter creaking and swaying between them.
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Masked Omens: Week Four
[Image Description: Image 1 - A simple rendition of the Masked Singer UK logo, a golden mask with colourful fragments flying off of it. The mask has a golden halo and a golden devil tail protruding from either side. Below, gold text reads ‘Masked Omens’.
Image 2 - A page from the Opinion section of the Capital Herald, dated Saturday, 16th January, 2021. Full image description and transcript below the cut. End ID.]
Read the fic here!
(Falling records template from Pixeden)
The Capital Herald, Saturday 16th January 2021
Opinion, page 20
Main Story:
TOFFLEY GATE: FIFTEEN YEARS ON, IT’S NO HOME
Where is the affordable housing that was promised? And why can’t local people get access to it?
The Toffley Gate development once seemed like that most elusive of rarities; a politician's campaign promise made real. When Lawrence Richmond, a distinguished barrister, was elected as MP for Toffley South in 2005, it was partly on the strength of his pledge to build a brand new block of affordable accommodation for the people of Toffley. In fact, if you ask most local voters why the future Transport Secretary won his seat, they'll point in the direction of Toffley Gate. The development, it was claimed, would create jobs in the area, boost property values, and allow more buyers and renters on low incomes to invest wisely in their future.
Fifteen years on, how are those claims holding up? Well, the development did indeed bring in construction jobs, as well as long-term positions in the shops and services on Toffley Gate's street level. As construction continued, however, some concerns were raised – even as early as February of 2006, seven months before the grand opening – that changes to the specification meant almost all the flats in the towering buildings would be described as luxury apartments, rather than affordable housing. But as long as they were still rented out at low rates, that wasn't necessarily a bad thing.
When the development's 312 flats were put on the market, however, 276 of them were priced at luxury rates. The remaining thirty-six were a single block of small studio apartments, suitable for a single occupant or two, a far cry from the family homes Richmond had promised to provide. Protests followed, in 2009 and 2010, but it was too late.
Now, fifteen years on, only 194 Toffley Gate units are occupied. The rest remain empty and useless, far beyond the means of most local residents and workers.
The Capital Herald popped into the local coffee shop to canvas opinions.
“Oh, they're lovely, aren't they?” said Gladys Jones, retired, who'd stopped in with her grandson, Chris, a student. “I'd love one of those balconies, but not on my pension.”
And Chris? “They're going for what, two or three grand a month? I could work for years and never save up enough to live there.” What would he like to see done with the place? “Drop the prices, maybe set them up as student accommodation, the uni's always oversubscribed. Or just... make sure normal people can afford them, you know?”
“I put my name on the waiting list for the cheap flats when the place opened, when I was about twenty-five,” Jenny Tyler, a teacher, told me. I asked her what changed her mind. “No, I'm still on the list. Fifteen years, I'm still on the list.” Has she considered applying for one of the more expensive unused units? “No. On a teacher's pay? No, in fact, I'm moving back in with my dad. It's cheaper to commute in from Tadfield than to keep paying rent in Toffley.”
And what of those behind the counter? Of the three employees on shift, two had joined the waiting list for the affordable housing at Toffley Gate. All three agreed that they'd love to live in one of the fancier units, if it were possible. One, Tom, has a second job as a cleaner on the development.
“I have to clean all the luxury homes, even the empty ones,” he said. “And there are a lot of empty ones. Even the ones where you can tell someone's moved in, there's hardly any sign of life. It almost seems like an investment property type thing, but I don't know how they can be making money without sub-letting it.”
When approached for comment, Lawrence Richmond – an Eton graduate who lives in a large historic house with his wife and son – argued that he is not responsible for market rates, nor for setting the level of affordable housing provision within the development. Why, then, did he make such grandiose promises during his election campaign in 2005? And why, sixteen years on and after several protests, is he still in office?
If Richmond is as keen on affordable housing as he claimed to be in 2005 – as he has continued to claim, during the run-up to every local election since then – there must be something he can do, in his capacity as Toffley's MP, to encourage the building's owners, Selectan Homes Plc, to lower rents and allow lower-income families to access the many unoccupied units in the building. Surely it would be a win-win situation; Selectan would reap the rewards of a fully-let building, existing Toffley Gate residents would benefit from an invigorated community, and local people could live in the area where they actually worked. The businesses established at the base of the Toffley Gate tower blocks would have as many customers as they could want.
In short, Lawrence Richmond, what are you waiting for?
TINA MOON
[Image Description: A colour photograph of a gleaming block of flats. End ID]
[Caption] Toffley Gate gleams in the sunshine. But are its units overpriced? (Photo: Daniel Brubaker on Unsplash)
Right hand column:
OLD TUNES ARE BEST
How wonderful to hear some music from the good old days on ITV’s The Masked Singer. When I sat down to watch it - under duress, I’ll admit, and largely to keep my wife and daughters happy - I expected nothing but noise of the variety that makes up the modern singles chart.
Imagine my surprise and delight, then, when several of the songs reminded me of the heady days of my youth. Some, of course, were older still, overshooting the perfect era of my teenage years to land in the tragically uncool Jazz Age, but for the most part over the last few weeks I have been able to sing along with abandon, embarrassing my daughters no end and infuriating my wife, who is desperately trying to ascertain the identities of all of the disguised celebrities inside the ludicrous costumes.
I doubt we’ve ever heard any of those voices before, given that the really big names in entertainment no doubt have better things to do than make such fools of themselves on a Saturday night, so I won’t be participating in the silly guessing game. Instead, I’m picking my favourites based on the songs they sang in the first few weeks. Snake is my favourite, by virtue of singing a Whitesnake song in the first live show, and it was a good enough performance that I will, for now, dismiss last week’s show as merely a momentary lapse in skill and judgement. Bonfire got everyone in my house smiling with ‘Disco Inferno’, and it’s rare that my children and I agree on anything, so they have to be the house favourite. Axolotl chose wisely in channelling Kermit the Frog, a universally beloved entertainer, and Pony’s tribute to America with ‘Horse With No Name’ was very enjoyable, too.
So, I don’t know who Snake is but I’m rooting for them anyway, it seems. Who knows what tonight will bring?
READER’S LETTER FROM DEREK METTE
Coupon, bottom third of page:
[Image Description: Graphic of two falling record sleeves, with corresponding vinyl records also falling beside them. The first album sleeve shows two silhouettes of a face, looking towards each other in the style of the face/vase optical illusion, and is labelled “talking about it - Anathema”. The second shows a closeup of hands holding a book, and is labelled “Anathema - Narrative Devices”. At the bottom of the graphic are track listings.
“Talking About It: Talking About it, Here I Go, Talking in Circles, The Magic Word, Seventh Sense, Pour My Heart Out, Nobody’s Fault, For A Spell, Living In The Past, Parting Words.
Narrative Devices: Narrative Devices, Stab In The Dark, Look Before You Leap, Out Of The Crowd, Daisy Chains, I Hate To Leave, Ashes, Eagle Eyes, End of Days, Parting Ways.” End ID.]
EXCLUSIVE DISCOUNT FOR CAPITAL HERALD READERS
Exclusive to the Capital Herald, this voucher entitles you to 50% off the listed price of Anathema's first album, Talking About It, when you buy her new album, Narrative Devices.
Featuring hit singles 'Daisy Chains' and 'End of Days', Narrative Devices has been described as 'a breath of fresh air for folk music' and 'a powerful meditation on the stories we tell ourselves every day'. 'Talking About It' contains the gorgeous ballad 'For A Spell', which has already sold over half a million units as a single in the two years since its release.
Don't miss out on this amazing deal! Just take this coupon to your nearest participating retailer, or enter code CAP50 when ordering online.
[Image Description: A barcode marked ‘FOR RETAILER USE’, from barcode.tec-it.com, and a QR code, from qr-code-generator.com. End ID.]
Voucher expires 12AM 23/01/21. At participating retailers only. While stocks last. Not valid outside of fanfiction. For full terms and conditions, see page 28.
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Latvia In The Manga
Latvia has appeared in multiple strips, dating back to the main story line of the webcomic. He makes his debut in Hetare 4: Pact of Steel in a few brief shots that include him and Estonia trembling from behind a wall, the two of them being awaken after Lithuania wakes up yelling from his dream about Poland, and them trembling again as Russia reads Poland's letter. He also appears in Hetare 5: Lietuvis!! where Russia becomes fascinated over a facet pipe and Latvia is ecstatic at the the fact that water flows through it. When Latvia plays with the facet, an uncomfortable blank stare forms on Russia's face. The following panel shows a baffled Germany as he watches from his window He later makes a brief cameo with Russia and the other two Baltics when they arrive at Germany's house for a meeting. After a few strange occurrences, Russia begins to smash holes in Germany's ceiling. The damage causes it to crumble and Japan falls through and lands on top of Latvia, leaving Estonia and Lithuania to yell out his name in panic.
In Comic Diary 4, Estonia decides that he'll stop calling out Latvia's name when something bad happens but when something hits Latvia in the head, he ends up yelling out his name in mid-sentence. In the strip, Let's go take a look at Estonia, Latvia has a small cameo where he is shown playing with a sheep in the background and Estonia later finds Latvia's head stuck inside the sheep's mouth and yells out his name in distress. In the strip, Truly Just a Scribble Comic, Russia takes notice of Latvia's constant shaking. He grabs a hold of him and Latvia begins to tremble enough that his soul gains wings and escapes his body. In Soviets, both Latvia and Estonia praise Lithuania highly but the second he leaves to meet up with Poland, the air between the two men becomes antipathetic. In The Violent Sve of Northern Europe Takes a Mighty Swing! Latvia is delighted to see Finland arrive after he and Sweden fled Denmark's home. When Sweden decides to take him and Estonia with him and Finland back home, Latvia anxiously says they would have to ask for Poland's approval. In the end, Sweden later gains partial custody over him and Estonia, but only due to Poland getting "stranger anxiety."
Latvia is often seen in strips focusing on Sealand. In It's Sealand! Latvia stabs Sealand in the shoulder with a lily of the valley but apologizes and the two later become friends. Latvia decides to be a big brother figure towards Sealand and gives him advice on how to grow as a country. However Latvia eventually breaks down in tears but thanks him after Sealand cheers up by saying they're both work hard to get stronger. In With Sealand!, he often sends distressing calls to Latvia throughout the strip when something doesn't go right. This strip was republished in volume 3 the name, Keep Moving!! March Forward, Sealand! In The Principality of Wy & the Mysterious Sealand, Latvia hears the news that Wy has declared independence from Australia and knowing that Sealand has mostly likely already heard the news, he decides to call him to check up on him. Thinking he would be crying over it, he is relieved to know the two micronations have become friends. This strip was republished in volume 4 under the name, Keep on moving!! March Forward, Sealand!
Latvia appears in all volumes except for the fifth one, however most of his appearances end up comprising of brief and small cameos. In volume 1, he makes a small appearance in Meeting of the World where Belarus has a nice against his back.He makes his official debut in the strip A Natural Rags-to-Riches Story, where he is living at Russia's house with the other two Baltics. When Latvia says something he shouldn't have towards Russia, Estonia walks out nervously, stating he's going to make some tea. In the following panels, Russia asks where his coat is and Latvia chimes in saying he donated it to musuem, saying it looked like "a priceless artifact". Latvia however begins to tremble and apologize profusely after Russia tells him that he was still wearing the coat regularly and bought it recently. In the strip Squished, Russia begins to press down on Latvia's head and asks why Latvia appeared so short, to which he replies he would be 10 centimeters taller if he didn't press down on his head so much. In the following scene, Latvia states he hates living with Russia and would much rather rely on Germany instead while Lithuania refuses, thinking he is way too scary. In a change of conversation, they talk about dinner and each want a different meal. In the last panel, Latvia agrees with Lithuania and Estonia that they are too different to be considered "The Three Baltic States". These two strips were combined in Chapter 2: Power Ranger Allied Forces. In volume 2 Latvia makes a brief appearance in the strip, Unrequited Love, showing a panel of the numerous faces that lived in Russia's house. In Don't Think Too Much Into It, Latvia says he would like to have a sibling to which Estonia and Lithuania give him odd looks.. Both these strips were combined within the Russia's Big and Little Sister chapter. In volumes 3 and 4, Latvia appears in a reprinted versions of With Sealand! and The Principality of Wy & the Mysterious Sealand. Latvia is also mentioned by Estonia as part of the Choir Club on a part-time basis and their club is frequently targeted by the Soviet Union Club (which Russia is the only member of) in the strip, Gakuen Hetalia: Go Forth! Newspaper Club!! In volume 6, Latvia appears appears in two republished strips, the first being The Nordic Five +α, where Lithuania and Latvia over-hear Estonia wanting to join to the Nordics to Finland. Latvia notes they can't be the Baltic Trio without him but Estonia however states nervously that even if he pulls out, the two could still get by as the Baltic Duo, an idea that Finland thinks won't end well.In the strip A Call for Russia, Russia apologizes for calling the Baltics over so late at night and asks if the three of them had any requests for him that he could fulfill for them. While the other two Baltics have nothing to ask for, Latvia chimes in asking if he could finally have other friends besides Russia like America. Later in the strip, Estonia watches Latvia closely, noting that Latvia can't work hard without a carrot and stick approach. Both these strips were originally published in Comic Birz in March and June 2013 respectively.
In Hetalia: World☆Stars, he has appeared in a few short chapters. In Chapter 63, his first in the series, Estonia is concerned over Latvia's workload however he says that he doesn't mind, replying that medicine and pounding iron is interesting to him and works as his stress relief. Latvia continues on saying that he also plays solo chess as he works. Estonia however replies that it sounds like bragging to him while his inner voice says "That's terrible but good luck." In chapters 93 through 96 where Latvia drifts off into a daydream about bunnies (one of which turns muscular) every time Estonia brags about being grouped in the Nordic group for sports events. Estonia confronts him about this, saying he always goes into a "weird state" whenever he talks about the Nordics. Latvia replies rather nervously and teary-eyed that he tends to escape reality when the topic comes up as he feels that Estonia is tired of being a Baltic country. Estonia is surprised by this and he apologizes, saying it was far from true and only wants to join the Nordics because he wishes to possess the charms of his "cute Baltic side and cool Nordic side." In Chapter 96, Latvia begs Lithuania to step in and stop Estonia's constant chatter about the Nordics but Estonia replies that Latvia's overacting. Lithuania refuses to take sides, replying they were supposed to be a trio and had been falling apart as of late. He proposes they need to be more united just as they did when they declared independence from Russia. However during the flashback, as much as they agreed they were done with Russia, the group was divided on how to go about it with Latvia not mentally ready to leave right away while Estonia chooses to stick with his plan of gradually gaining rights and seizing full authority. The flashback leaves Lithuania unwell and is shown clutching Estonia and Latvia's shoulders roughly. In Chapter 237 and Chapter 238, Latvia and Moldova are the only ones visiting Russia for New Years because of a bad snow storm. Latvia originally didn't want to come but feared the worst would happened if he didn't go. He also picked up Moldova on the way there, calling him "a strange creature".While deciding on what to do for fun, Russia feels going for a swim in the cold weather is the best option. Latvia tries to get out of it by saying it would be too harsh on Moldova. However once Moldova finishes off a quick snack, he says it's not a big deal and announcing that he's going home, leaving Latvia alone with Russia.
Latvia has also appeared in several Kitayume Hetalia holiday events, mostly in small and brief cameos. In Halloween 2006 Comic, Latvia anxiously wonders where Lithuania and Poland are while Estonia replies that Russia went over to meet up with them.In the 2010 Christmas event, Latvia is requested to send a photograph to Finland during their livestream. After he sends the photograph, he slips and falls and Estonia yells out his name in distress. Latvia insists he's doing okay but is upset he dirtied his favorite hoodie. He warns himself to be more careful but is cut off mid-sentence when Parallel France rushes out of the shadows towards him.[49] During the Halloween 2011 event, Latvia arrives at America's Halloween party with the rest of the Baltics, Russia, Belarus, and Ukraine, dressed in Alice in Wonderland-themed costumes. Later in the event, Latvia is seen shaking on Russia's shoulders when Denmark asks if he's going to put Latvia down before greeting everyone.In an extra comic posted on Himaruya's blog before the event, Latvia has to work the next day and tries to leave but Estonia and Lithuania, who are still partying, keep him from doing so. In the Christmas 2011 event, Estonia is seen briefly riding Mochi!America (who has morphed into a horse-like creature) and saying he will visit Latvia and see his Christmas tree. As Estonia rides off, Latvia thinks he'll bake some cookies for him this year. In the 2013 Halloween event, Latvia runs into Lithuania after being chased by a cat. Latvia says Poland said he was having fun, but adds he was in a corner with tears in his eyes as well. The two men decide to relocate him together and bid farewell to Greece.[54] At the end of the comic, Latvia is seen carrying around a bucket full of screams that others can munch on and is later seen eating several screams himself. Sealand however questions if it's safe to eat as the one Latvia is holding is still twitching.
(This was originally taken from the Hetalia Wiki, I give no credit to myself for writing this but if anyone was interested I might do more!)
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phango19: we go around, one foot nailed down
\o/ 30th DP fic and it’s the infamous dissection trope \o/
(you know I had to do it to ‘em)
Legit though, I’ve been wanting to write a DP dissection fic since, jeez, since I joined the fandom in '13 probably. It's practically a rite of passage to have one of these under your belt, isn't it? So here's me, giving you the gift of Danny Having a Bad Time.
There'll be some notes about the research I did for this one for the curious at the end, but apologies to anyone with an ounce of scientific know-how. I almost failed high school chemistry and that was something like 12 years ago. I am but a simple idiot with Internet access. Please call me out if there's something egregious in need of correction; otherwise... blame it on ghostly handwavium?
Title comes from TOOL’s “Pneuma.”
AO3 | FFN
=
It had been agony, at first. But like anything he’s ever set his mind to, it’s gotten easier with practice.
He’s had plenty of opportunities to practice.
That doesn’t mean it doesn’t still hurt. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t wish he could quit the whole ugly business right this moment. Burn every file, lock the lab up for good, and pray for no more nightmares. But this ugly business needs doing and he’s the only one for it. He can’t allow Maddie to shoulder any more of this burden than she’s already insisted on. He won’t let those white-suited bastards lay so much as a finger on his family either, not while he’s got any say in it. There'll be hell to pay for going toe-to-toe with the GIW, but that's fine. He doesn’t care what happens to him anymore, so long as Maddie and Jazz are kept clean of all consequences.
If his luck holds out the courts will be hashing it all out for a while yet anyway. He’s never had a head for fine print or subtlety, nor doing anything so morally gray as—well. Everything lately. What should be done is clear as day to him, but if the courts agreed that easily with the GIW he wouldn't have a chance to make up for what he’s done.
He needs to do that much.
The courts and those bastards will eventually agree he doesn’t have a leg to stand on, regardless of blood relation or his wealth of experience in an incredibly niche field. Sooner than later those bastards will come, and when they do there's only so much protest and fighting spirit they'll indulge in. That's a fight he'll lose once it comes, but in the meantime those bastards and all their clever little monitoring devices can’t come within 300 feet of Fenton Works without causing an uproar.
He has to take advantage of the time they have left.
This evening the house is empty, just him and—
Well.
Maddie’s out there fighting the good fight, Jazz and Sam and Tucker at her side. The three of them have got more experience than Maddie and him ever realized. They’ll be just fine. They’ll handle whatever toothy specter is out there terrorizing the good people of Amity Park and make sure nothing gets in the way of his work. He needs the peace and quiet. No distractions. He needs to do this by the book.
Working by the book isn't a habit he’s ever had to cultivate, not with Maddie there to shore up his madcap inventions with reams of reproducible data and neatly labeled blueprints, all hard copies done in triplicate and the digital files regularly updated to a secure server off-site. You can’t ever be too cautious when you’re putting pseudoscience to the test and winning, Maddie always said with a grin, and he’d kissed her every time for being so much more brilliant and beautiful than he deserved. What would he do without her? How far could he have gotten without her? Would Danny still be—
He swallows.
Best to banish that train of thought before it can run him down. No distractions. No what-ifs, no maybes. Not if he wants to make up for what’s happened. What they’ve done. What he's done. This one’s all on him, no matter how Maddie tries to tell him otherwise. Either he fixes this or—
Well.
There is no ‘or,’ is there?
He presses the record button on the Jack Fenton-improved observation rig. Blinking red lights and a momentary whine of feedback means he’s good to go. “Nov—”
Too hoarse. Clarity and enunciation are key here. Slow and steady. He’s got to do this right, each and every time. He clears his throat and begins again.
“November 24th, 2006. 9:43 p.m. This is the ninth full examination of the ectobiological aberration self-identified as ‘Phantom,’ legal name Daniel Fenton. General details of the aberration's previously accepted physical characteristics can be found in the recording and transcript of the first examination. General details of the aberration's current physical characteristics can be found in the first, second, and third examinations. Detailed characteristics that have remained unchanged between forms—the wholly living, the selectively living, and the wholly deceased are also recorded in the first and second examinations."
“For the record, I still don't think I qualify as an 'aberration,'" the body says.
He breathes. Swallows. Chooses to ignore the interruption.
“This examination will consist of further study of Phantom's physical deterioration, to include the taking of samples of hair, skin, bone, and various fluids and tissues as necessary. Additionally I—"
He hadn't identified himself, despite the GIW's explicitly written protocols on ghost examinations. He curses inwardly, decides not to bother. He's the only examiner on any of the recordings, after all.
The body takes advantage of his pause to add, “Oddity maybe. Hell, anomaly sounds pretty cool. But aberration? That makes me sound like I'm on the verge of a villainous origin story or something."
He presses on through gritted teeth. "I'll be conducting several tests as outlined separately—exact location in the Phantom file will be added to this examination's transcript—to see if it's feasible to separate the Phantom aberration from Daniel Fenton's remains."
"How many times do I have to tell you that Phantom has always been—"
"Danny."
The body sighs. Well. Its inhabitant does anyway. "Sorry, sorry."
He resists the urge to thank the body. He resists the urge to pat its mottled green hand. He doesn't trust his voice to remain steady if he does either.
"External examination.” He describes the body from toe to tip, his voice measured, unhurried, detached. Dark green skin, healed as flawlessly as it had seven times before. Untamed black hair that shines a glossy green in the harsh overhead lights. Eyes red as holly berries that shine with the predatory gleam so common among true ghosts when the overhead light hits them. The skin is firm, and firmly attached to the lean muscles beneath, and those too still conform to the bones as if the body hasn’t been dead for months. The body is as limp-limbed as a ragdoll in his hands as he goes through the checklist. He confirms that it’s continuing to lose weight incrementally despite no outward signs of decay or starvation—
(Can a dead thing still starve? God, but what were those two years like for Danny? All those worries, those fears, all those questions without answers, and now….)
Nothing untoward or abnormal—in shape, if not in color—can be noted. A normal male distribution of body hair. Teeth in fair repair. Gums, tongue, and oral cavity all normal, albeit pale green. Symmetrical and normal in appearance are checked off wherever they need to be checked off. On, and on, and on. An exhaustive process that embarrassed the body’s inhabitant horribly the first few times. Now it’s borne in silence, with only an occasional gruff sigh.
No deformities. No injuries, except for the postmortem thread that’s bunched up at weird angles as the body stubbornly insisted on healing practically overnight. He makes a note of it as he takes a small pair of shears to the tangles, snipping and pulling as needed. The small holes trace out a capital letter Y that’s gone a bit hunchbacked and knock-kneed. Another day or two and that scar will be gone, replaced by a new one that will stretch stark and symmetrical, for a little while. The small holes left behind don’t bleed. There isn't any blood or ectoplasm pooled or pulsing through the body. The heart is still, a fist-sized lump of dark green muscle. He'd drained the clay-colored fluid that had operated as blood out into a jar marked DP Specimen #58 - 3.85ltr ecto found w/in complex circ sys(!) w/ unk contaminant(s?). It hasn't clotted, and the body hasn't produced more.
They don't know why. They still don’t know why the body continues to heal. There’s not enough energy in the remaining ectoplasm to generate such a speedy recovery, but neither does it heal enough. Danny’s ghost—the aberration—is still bound to this inanimate, impossible corpse. Danny is still trapped.
Not to mention that the healing seems to be failing incrementally as the days pass. He doesn’t know what it means. He doesn’t know if they’re running out of time or not. He doesn’t know what will happen to Danny if—
There’s no ‘if.’ He’s fixing this.
He has to.
“You’re staring,” the body says quietly.
He swallows, shaking himself out of it. “I—I will now begin the internal examination to compare the body’s current state to that of the eighth examination conducted on November 16th. Additionally, with the data gathered from the previous examinations and tests conducted upon various tissue samples and the body itself it’s believed that optimal results might be achieved with as little biological interference as possible.”
“You said full examination,” the body interrupts. “Brain included?”
“Brain included,” he confirms. He can’t quite keep the apology out of his voice. Not as if those bastards would notice an ounce of kindness if it—
Focus.
The body doesn’t breathe. It can’t. Those lungs gasped their last 36 seconds after Maddie landed a neat hit on Phantom with a full 450 milliliters of their experimental paralytic.
(He’d said it himself, not 24 hours before that day. Enough to lay out a ghost ten times his size! What a damn stupid, blind idiot he was.)
The inhabitant inside the body makes the sound of a slow, steadying breath. It shouldn’t shake. It shakes anyway. “Just. Don’t keep my face c-covered any longer than you have to.”
Danny’s made this request each time. As if he’d forget to give Danny what mean comforts he can through—through this. Danny had screamed all throughout that first examination. Not out of pain—he insisted he couldn’t feel anything anymore—but out of sheer, visceral horror. He doesn’t blame Danny one bit for that.
(He’d hoped removing the brain would do the trick, that it would free Danny’s ghost, put him out of his misery. But it just grew back. There are three of them resting in glass jars of glowing formalin now. At the rate he’s going the entire lab will soon be nothing but bits of Danny in jars.)
“Sure thing,” he whispers, and picks up the scalpel.
He narrates as he works, making small notes on the diagram at his elbow with a gloved hand that grows damp over time with green fluids. He makes the initial incision, running over it repeatedly where necessary, and inch by inch peels the anterior thoracic musculature and subcutaneous layers away.
(He’s almost gotten used to making these incisions, to applying the necessary force as pulls the layers apart. The motions have almost become habit. It’s all the sounds of peeling the body open that continue to haunt him.)
The flesh folds like a thick blanket, draping over the body’s elbows out of the way. There’s no need at this time to study the neck musculature or organs. He leaves that stretch of skin where it’s meant to stay. He focuses on cutting away the pale bits of fatty tissue that might interfere, fully exposing the deep black bones of the body’s rib cage.
(That had been a hard shock, the first time. He’s almost used to the sight now.)
As with the body’s hair and eyes, the bones have a faint green gleam to them. The same iridescence of a raven’s feathers. They yield to a rib cutter the same as any human’s would. He makes the cuts close to the sides rather than near the breastbone; he wants to get a good look at the heart and lungs in situ today.
The inhabitant begins to breathe rapidly.
He pauses, the front of the body’s rib cage gripped carefully in both hands, pulled halfway out. “Do… do you want me to move the mirror?”
Oh, but he had put his foot down about the mirror. There was no way, no way, he would force Danny to observe as his own father cut him open—did this to him. Danny had asked first that his eyes not to be taped shut, because laying there paralyzed and feeling nothing in the dark was so much worse and anyway his eyes don’t seem to be going anywhere, right? The third examination is when Danny had asked for a way to watch him work, and he’d protested and blubbered and even shouted, enough that Maddie had called down the stairs in a voice thick with tears if everything was—if everything was—did he need help?
Yes, he needed help. But he didn’t tell her that. He told her everything was—was—that she needn’t worry, that he had everything handled.
Danny had asked again. Again and again and again, and every time he said no, told Danny all the reasons why he wouldn’t, couldn’t, would never—
But Danny kept asking.
I want to understand, Dad. Please. I’m gonna go crazy if I all I do is just lay here until you and Mom fix me. I—this is all I can do. I want to see what you’re doing to me, instead of trying to imagine. Please. Please, Dad.
He’d relented for the seventh examination. He’d attached an arm to the observation rig above the table, attached a mirror to the arm, and messed with the angle of it until Danny said he could see himself perfectly.
It had been such a terrible thing to do to Danny, but Danny had thanked him all the same.
The body sighs, chuckles weakly. “N-no. No. I just—hate that sound. That—cracking. Gets—gets me every time.”
He nods, not trusting himself to speak. He tries to be as gentle as he can, separating the breastbone from the clavicle, but some sounds are unavoidable. After setting the rib cage aside he swallows, and swallows again. His voice betrays him anyway. “M-mediastinum intact again as well. Comparable in color to previous examinations. The residual fatty thymic tissue present….”
And on. And on. Cutting and pulling and weighing, comparing weights and textures and colors to the eight other times he’s already done this.
How many more times will this be necessary?
Danny breathes, sometimes, hitching like he means to say something, or like he's trying not to cry.
Danny doesn’t do either, but he hates himself anyway.
“Decellularization continues apace,” he murmurs near the microphone, tracing a careful finger across one lung in the scale. It and its twin had been a vivid lime green in the beginning, but like nearly every other organ it’s begun to shed its inhabiting cells, leaving a colorless scaffolding in the same rough shape of itself behind.
Ghost organs. He’s never heard of such a thing happening outside of a microbiology lab. It’d almost be funny.
He doesn’t know what it means.
He doesn’t know what any of this means.
The accident should have killed Danny completely, left a well-cooked corpse and an entirely separate ghost behind. Not hybridized him. Not at the risk of this. Their paralytic is what killed him—
(his son, his boy, little Dann-o, gone gone gone and it’s all his fault)
—but if he’d died another way would this have been the same result? This powerlessness, this fading? There’s no knowing, and that most of all is what keeps him up at night.
He finishes comparing all the numbers to those previously recorded. Then samples are taken and the cell debris drained, all the vials and containers marked appropriately. Lastly he bags the organs he intends to keep for study to minimize leakage, leaving the rest in their individual trays. If he were to place them all back in the body the bags would—somehow—vanish within a few days, all the organs reorganized and reattached exactly as they should be. If he doesn’t, new ones will take their place.
Maddie suspects this to be the cause of the decellularization. The body is drawing on its own limited materials to regenerate because the ectoplasmic core once sustaining it has been snuffed out. None of their instruments can even pick up that Danny’s still in there, but there he is all the same. No one knows what to make of that.
All in all, it’s been over an hour by the time he carefully suctions out the last of the fluids pooled within the emptied cavities, filling and marking one more container to join the collection on the stainless steel counter. He’d lined the interior of the body with cotton, the first time. It had gone the same way as the bags, vanished or vaporized or who even knows. He doesn’t bother this time, returning the unbagged organs to rough approximations of where they should be. He gives the small intestine up as a bad job, grimacing apologetically. In the space where the right lung sat he places an oblong monitoring device small enough to fit in the palm of his hand. Something clever Maddie cooked up to measure all sorts of things, all potential avenues to make sense of the body’s physiology and shake the ghost clean of it. It shouldn’t be too intrusive once the lung grows back. Not that it matters.
It’s far too late to save their son. They know that. That doesn’t make this any easier.
“Brain next?” The body asks once he’s finished up the new Y incision.
“Brain next,” he confirms wearily, setting aside needle and thread. “Your moth—”
He bites his cheek hard enough to taste blood, but that’s not enough to take back the slip. No familiarity. No acknowledgement of their relationship. No divulging more details than strictly necessary. That had been part of the agreement.
He wiggles the rubber block out from under the body’s back, moves it to support the head, cards his fingers—a fresh pair of gloves on—through its thick dark hair. Danny can’t feel it but hums a wordless thanks anyway, watching in the mirror. There’s the faintest shiver of motion at his eyes; not the eyeballs themselves but of a fey light within. It’s the only sign anyone’s still in there.
He makes the incision across the crown, sloping from behind one ear to the other. The scrape of the scalpel against bare bone makes Danny suck in a breath. He peels, he cuts, he peels. He whispers an apology as the anterior flap covers the eyes, the nose, the mouth, the chin. The inhabit’s imagined breaths come faster than ever, but it’s only the dark that upsets him. It is. The dark, the numbness, the helplessness. A hell that can’t be imagined, only experienced.
He moves quicker now, his narration stuttering in favor of action. The posterior flap peeled and cut and folded out of the way, then both of the temporal muscles severed. The scalpel traded for a blade like a bread knife to etch out a rough guideline around the crown of the exposed skull. Then the hammer and chisel.
Danny whimpers all throughout.
As soon as the brain—the same gray-green color of mold—has been removed, he gently pulls the anterior flap back, lets it dangle over empty space as he wipes the body’s face clean of a few green drips. “Keeping this one for testing, I’m afraid,” he says.
“Okay,” the body whispers.
“Nearly finished now.”
“I know. I’m okay.”
He doesn’t acknowledge that. He can’t afford to. The brain—what a brilliant kid, a professional ghost hunter, reaching for the stars since he first realized they were up there, the sum of his son cradled in his hands and this isn’t ever going to get any easier, it’s not, it’s not, it’s not—
He takes a deep breath. Steadies himself. Sets the brain carefully aside to be dealt with shortly. Soft as Jell-O, brains are, but unfathomably powerful. Science has only scratched the surface of what goes on in that three-pound mass. Danny might still be—somehow—tied to the body, but maybe the answer lies in the brain.
Nearly finished. He can do this.
The skullcap is held awkwardly in place as he sews the scalp closed. It’ll be good as new in no time, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t still take care to make the stitches tidy. He uses the back of his hand, the cleanest part of his glove, to smooth the dark hair over the seam.
“This concludes the ninth examination of Daniel Fenton, AKA Phantom,” he croaks into the microphone, and at last, at last, he can kill the recording. As soon as he has he reaches up to nudge the mirror askew so Danny doesn’t have to stare at himself a second longer.
“Done,” he says, his voice gone hoarse again.
“Yeah,” the body says.
He stands there a long, long minute, braced on the examination table staring down at the twisted corpse of his son, both splashed with any number of ghostly-bodily fluids. Arms shaking, his knees rubbery, breathing through a throat of sand. He’s tired. He’s tired. He doesn’t know how much longer he can do this.
As long as he has to. As long as it takes to help Danny. That’s how much longer he has to. No ifs, ands, or buts.
“Are you okay?” Danny asks.
He laughs. It comes out wetter than he meant it to, but it’s fine. All of the recording equipment is off. The only person who’ll see him cry now is Danny. “Sh—shouldn’t I be asking that?”
“Maybe,” Danny says, “But it’s not easy on anybody. Is it?”
“...No. No, it’s not.”
He’s made such a mess of this corner of the lab. Maddie’d be furious with him if she saw. Not that she will. He’s cordoned it off with tall curtains and begged her on bended knee to leave this whole ugly mess to him. She hasn’t looked yet. He’d know if she had. He's seen the way her eyes linger on the curtains while they're working in another part of the lab, how her hands fumble, how her mouth thins. She's not slept more than four hours at a time since—
Since.
"Quit staring," the body orders. "Mom'll blow a gasket if you leave the lab like this. So c’mon now. Hop to it."
He laughs again, sniffling thickly as he pats the mottled green hand nearest him. Danny can't feel or see him do it, but it feels right to do it all the same. "You're a good boy, keeping your old man on task."
Danny hums. "Somebody's got to."
Well. That’s true enough, isn’t it? He’s always needed a firm hand to keep him focused. It’s been Maddie since the day they met in college, his rock in all things. All things but this. He won’t let her carry this burden. Not the messiest parts he can protect her from anyway.
So. Another checklist.
Juggling trays full of specimens off the second examination table to the counter so he can wipe the table clean. Then cleaning the body. Then moving the body to the second table so he can clean and sterilize the first.
(Like a twisted game of musical chairs, Danny had joked once. Neither of them had laughed.)
But before that comes organizing and storing all the specimens for Maddie to study tomorrow with that eagle eye and incredible patience of hers. She’s doing the real work, laying out all the pieces of Danny to see what makes him tick, working on a way to free him even as she tries to understand him. They’ve dedicated another corner of the lab to this; nearly an entire wall, really. All their other work has gone by the wayside, shelved apart from the necessity of dealing with any ghosts that slip out to wreck a little havoc.
Funny, how few times that’s happened—since. They’d worried, once Jazz and Sam and Tucker had told them the whole terrible truth, that the ghosts might celebrate Phantom’s condition. Take advantage of his helplessness to get revenge or at least run amok in Amity Park. They know news got out; the ghost Phantom had been after the day Maddie got her lucky shot in had gotten away.
But there’s been nothing. Almost nothing, apart from a few non-sapient threats. Mean and cunning things, but nothing half so dangerous as they’d feared would come. Danny doesn’t seem surprised, or worried for that matter. If he knows something though, he’s staying quiet.
Once he’s passed back through the curtains the body says, “Jazz visited me again last night.”
The curse slips out him before he can help it, anger and worry and shame and grief a hot migrainous mess hammering away at his skull, matching the pace he’d chiseled at Danny’s. “She knows better—!”
“Yeah, and I told her to get out too.” Danny chuckles. “She never listens though.”
“I….” He sighs and shakes his head, exasperated. “...Yeah. She gets that from your mother. How is she?”
“Figured that’d be obvious.”
“She won’t talk to either of us,” he replies, and goes to clean and disinfect the table and floor. Easiest to get that done with before he spends 20 minutes hunched over the sink and autoclave. His back’s already clamoring for a hot shower and a handful of ibuprofen after—
Well.
“She’s not as angry as she was,” Danny says in a pause between clangs. “She hardly cried at all this time.”
“Good. That’s—good.”
“Hey, Dad? Do me a favor?”
He’s at Danny’s side at once, taking one hand in his and leaning enough to be in more than Danny’s frozen peripheral. “What is it?”
“She’s gonna try to sneak Sam and Tucker down here this week—”
“What?”
“—so can you make sure the security system will let them in?”
His knee-jerk reaction is to put his foot down, to remind Danny and then Jazz of how tenuous a position they’re in with the GIW, of how they can’t afford the littlest slip or look for loopholes or do anything to risk Danny—
But.
Danny’s been down here so long now. Alone apart from him, from Maddie’s voice on the other side of the curtains, Jazz’s midnight visits. Just his family and the ceiling and hours of silence and a hundred experiments and failures and—
And that’s no way to live. That’s no way to live at all.
“Is that what you want?” He asks.
“I… I really don’t want them to see me like this,” There’s nothing but revulsion in Danny’s voice, self-loathing and guilt and horror. “But they’ll do it no matter what I tell Jazz, and I don’t want them to get caught either.”
“Okay. Okay then. I think I can finagle three days before anyone might notice. Make sure she knows.”
“Yeah. Thank you.”
He goes back to cleaning, finishes the area and moves to the instruments and trays. Ectoplasm is notoriously difficult to scrub out. It takes time. The smell of bleach burns his eyes and nose, eventually overpowering the citrus sting of ectoplasm. Once the autoclave is set to run he tosses the latex gloves into the hazardous waste bin and takes a moment to let his hands breathe. Never did like the feel of latex, but his usual pair don’t allow him the finesse he needs for—well, this kind of work. His fingertips have gone pale and wrinkled. His fingers ache. His wrists are on fire, to say nothing of his shoulders and back.
How many more times is he going to do this?
“How do you feel?” He asks.
“I’m fine,” Danny says. Too quickly.
“Be honest, kiddo. Please.”
“I… Cold. Heavy. Like I got stuck phasing through the ground, and any second I’m gonna slip up and go solid and it’ll—” Danny makes a small, miserable noise and falls silent.
He rubs his aching eyes, gritting his teeth against every stupid, useless thing he wants to say. He’d asked, hadn’t he?
“Dad?”
“Yeah?”
“It’s been months.”
“I know.”
Danny’s voice breaks. “I have to get out of here.”
“I know,” he repeats. It’s the only thing to say. He’s exhausted all apologies. “We’re trying, son. We’re working on this day and night. We’ll get you sorted, you know we will.”
“...Yeah. I know.”
He forces his aching legs to the cabinet to pull out a fresh sheet to drape over the body, then Danny’s comforter over that, pulling them both up to the body’s chin to hide the edges of the incision. “Eyes open or shut tonight?”
“Um. What time is it?”
He glances at the wall as he carefully swaps the rubber block under the body’s neck for a plastic-wrapped pillow. “Just after midnight.”
“When will Mom be down?”
“Six sharp, same as always.”
“Right. Um. Shut’s fine.”
He gently tugs the medical tape off the body’s face, smoothes the eyebrows flat and brushes the bangs aside. The green skin feels even colder on his bare fingers.
This is the part where he bids his dead son good night and retreats upstairs. This is the part where he passes by Jazz and Maddie with his eyes firmly on his feet. This is the part where he near boils himself in the shower until he feels almost clean again, scrubbing his skin raw to wash the smell of ectoplasm away. This is the part where there’s only nightmares followed by silent hours spent staring at the ceiling of their bedroom, trying to imagine how helpless and terrified Danny is down here.
He stays where he is, hands braced on the table again. He asks the question that's festered in his gut ever since Jazz threw herself over Phantom's prone shape and spat the truth out through a stream of furious tears. "...Why didn't you tell us?"
Danny is quiet for a long, long time. Then, "I was always gonna end up on this table."
He shudders, pulling away. "We— you don’t really think that. Do you? We love you, Danny. We wouldn't. If we'd known, we wouldn't have."
Another long silence. Then, "Good night, Dad."
“I….” He shuts his eyes, weary in a way he’ll never find the words to express. “Good night, Danny-boy.”
He shuts the lights off on his way up the stairs.
=
Notes: Decellularization is cool as hell. Check out the >Wiki page< for it, and if you don’t some close-up pictures of a pig heart >here< is a fascinating DIY to create your very own ghost organ as a Halloween decoration! (Scientists are amazing.) For the rest of the research I did for this, I’ll just say that boy! You sure can find some extremely specific How-Tos on the Internent, huh? I sure learned a lot this week!
Anyway, thanks for reading! You’re great. <3
#danny phantom#phango19#my writing#body horror#gore#dissection#i went all out y'all and i am not sorry#the research rabbit hole was intense on this one#my search history is WILD
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Stark Spangled Banner One Shot: The Life of Marv
This is a one shot to accompany Stark Spangled Banner Ch11. Where we delve into the life of Marv the Turkey. As requested by @momobaby227
Masterlist to the Series- Stark Spangled Banner
Hope you enjoy! Creative license has gone into this... I know nothing about turkeys bar what google told me!
Warnings- Bad language. Animal death.
********
2001.
It was a complete accident. Well, not going veggie, but Katie didn't mean to steal the poor thing from the farm. She really didn't. Well at least that's what she told Tony. And now it was sat in the large, sprawling grounds of the Malibu mansion whilst Tony simply pinched the bridge of his nose and glared at his 17 year old sister.
"This has to be up there with the most DUMB assed things you have ever done". He rolled his eyes. "Ever"
"I couldn't leave him" Katie said, "he was lonely and gonna end up someones Thanksgiving dinner."
"Its a fucking turkey Kiddo." Tony groaned, watching the bird strut around the grounds, completely non-plussed at being uprooted from the farmyard 20 miles up the road "that's what he was bred for"
"Meat is murder Tony"
"Oh for fucks sake..." he groaned "you know, I put up with this bullshit, the blue hair, the fucking emo clothes...but no. The Turkey goes back"
"Best catch it then" Katie said, shrugging "I ain't taking Marv back to be killed."
"Marv?" Rhodey asked, from where he was stood next to Tony "you called him Marv?"
"He looks like Marv from Home Alone"
"No, he looks like a turkey. A stolen turkey" Tony sighed "Rhodey, gimme a hand man..."
"Oh no." Rhodey shook his head "this is all yours Tony"
"I'll remember that..." Tony glared and stepped towards the bird. Instantly it flares its feathers up and made some kind of growling noise and launched at Tony who staggered backwards, toppling over one of the chairs that was positioned on the grounds. Katie doubled over with laughter and Rhodey let out a small snigger as Tony stood up, dusting down his jeans.
"What the fuck?" He looked at Katie "how did you get near it?"
Katie shrugged and walked over to Marv who looked at her shrewdly before he fluffed down his feathers and she bent to pick him up.
"He likes me"
"I give in." Tony groaned "I raised a stubborn, pig headed asshole"
So Marv the Turkey lived for thanksgiving.
*****
2002
"Hey Marv" Katie cooed, stepping into the large pen that was the turkey's home. The bird strutted out of the large dog kennel he used as a house and Katie sat down, holding out her hand which contained a few blackberries. The turkey pecked at the fruit and she gently stroked his head before standing up and opening the gate to let him out of his pen. He followed Katie round the pool area and when she sat down on one of the loungers he plopped himself in the shade next to her, his eyes flicking around.
"Just look..." Tony gestured to his sister and that fucking bird. Obediah snickered a little at the sight of the turkey sitting next to Katie like an obedient lap dog.
"I think it's funny..."
"You would." Tony took a pull from his beer
"This is kinda your fault for not getting her a dog." Obi laughed.
"How is this my fault?" Tony sputtered "she robbed the damned thing last year at Thanksgiving. Is that it, every time I say no to something she goes and steals?"
Obi clapped him on the shoulder as Tony made his way to the large bi-folding doors.
"Kiddo... you want eats?"
At the sound of Tony's voice the turkey jumped to its feet and made a low chucking noise, and Katie laughed as Tony narrowed his eyes.
"That thing is getting cooked this year." He glowered.
But he didn't. And Marv the turkey lived for another Thanksgiving.
****
2003
"Katie you can't take the damned bird to the UK."
"But he hates you." She looked at Tony. "How you gonna feed him and clean him out?"
"I'm not. He's gonna go to a farm"
"Don't you dare." She hissed.
"Don't worry, I wont let him." Pepper soothed as the dark haired girl crossed her arms and glared at her brother "I'll make sure Marv stays"
"Where is the little bastard anyway?" Tony asked, looking out into the yard.
"Erm... I dunno." Katie frowned "Marv... MARV..."
She headed off in search of her beloved bird and her calls suddenly got more frantic.
"Did you let him go?" She demanded of Tony.
"Trust me I would love nothing more." Tony sighed "but it's more than my life is worth. He has to be around here somewhere..."
An hour it took until they finally located him in the downstairs bathroom, surrounded by an entire roll of shredded toilet paper.
"I fucking hate that bird" Tony grumbled as Katie and Pepper tried and failed, miserably to hide their laughter.
And Marv the turkey lived for another thanksgiving.
****
2004
"I swear he has been fine with me all term whilst you have been away!" Tony said, pulling his legs up onto the chair to avoid the bird pecking him to bits. "You saw the photos!"
"Maybe he is just protective!" Katie grinned, reaching down and picking Marv up. He settled on her knee with a ruffle of feathers and closed his eyes, cooing softly as Katie gently ran her fingers over the top of his head.
"Or maybe he is a giant ass hole" Tony grumbled, looking at the bird over his sunglasses.
"Shhh don't listen to him Marv" Katie said, putting her hands over where the birds ears would be, or are, maybe, Tony has no idea. "Ooooh maybe we should get him a girlfriend"
Tony sputtered and looked at his sister "no fucking way."
"I'm only teasing" Katie sighed.
"What do you fancy for lunch? Tony asked "I got some of that quinoa stuff and halloumi, thought we could knock up a salad..."
"Great." Katie beamed "but you know I'm not veggie anymore right?"
"Since when?" Tony rolled his eyes.
"Since I discovered British bacon" she sighed. "Plus i decided its more about how the animals are kept before they die, ya know? So I make sure it's all free range, organically farmed stuff..."
Tony ran a hand over his face before he shot the turkey a sly look "so, this Thanksgiving..." he mimed necking the animal and Katie glared at him.
"No. He is a pet. I'm not eating him"
So Marv the turkey lived for another thanksgiving.
****
2005
Tony threw a corn on the cob into the pen where Marv was strutting about.
"Eat that you little shit" he grumbled, as the turkey eyed him beadily before he strutted over to the food and began to peck.
"Think you need a new house" he said, pulling his jacket further around himself as the November wind coming from the ocean was slightly chilly. He walked round to the side of the dog kennel. The wood was starting to crack and splinter. Pulling out his phone he quickly googled for pet houses and came across something that looked pretty cool. A plastic igloo shaped thing for rabbits. He sent a photo to Katie who called him within 5 minutes as he had just locked the turkey up for the night and headed into the kitchen.
"You buying Marv presents?" She giggled
"The kennel looks scruffy." He shrugged simply "thought this would be better."
"He will love it" she laughed.
They talked for an hour or so before she excused herself to pack, as her flight home for the holidays was the next day. Tony glanced once more out of the window into the yard to see Marv retreating into his kennel with a strut and a ruffle of feathers. Rolling his eyes he flicked off the lights and headed down to his workshop.
"Jarvis, pull up a photo of a Eglu rabbit house" he said, rolling up his sleeves "and convert it to a blue print"
"Stark Industries branching out into pet houses now Sir?" The AI asked, amusement in his tone.
"Something like that." Tony grumbled.
And Marv the turkey lived another thanksgiving.
*****
2006
Tony knew instantly when Katie went outside and peeked into the pet house that something was wrong. She wrenched open the hood and reached in and turned to the house with the bird in her arms.
"I think he is sick..." she said, her tone laced with worry as she carried Marv into the kitchen. Tony peered down at the bird, and he had to admit he didn't look well. His eyes were closed and his breathing was heavy.
"Take him into the lounge" he said softly. Katie sniffed slightly and carried him through the kitchen and Tony sighed.
"Jarvis... what is the average lifespan for a turkey?" He asked quietly.
"The maximum recorded lifespan for a turkey in captivity is twelve years and four months. For turkeys living in the wild, the maximum is less than ten years, but the average life expectancy of a male turkey is just over 2 years and just over 3 years for females." Jarvis replied.
Tony shook his head and sighed, grabbed the punnet of blackberries from the fridge and made his way into the lounge where Katie was sat with Marv now wrapped in a blanket by the fire.
He sat in front of her and gently offered a handful of the fruit to the bird. It looked at him and then viciously pecked at his hand.
"Bastard" Tony hissed, shaking his hand out and wincing as Katie laughed. Marv ruffled his feathers and closed his eyes.
Half an hour later he ruffled and clucked for the last time.
And Marv the Turkey didn't live for another Thanksgiving.
@the-omni-princess
#orignal character#tony stark#iron man#oneshot#fanfic#mcu#mcu fanfiction#marvel#marvel fanfiction#avengers#avengers fanfiction#fancfiction#fanfc
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Sand Dollars- a Ralbert War Story
heheh hi guys im in college now and im posting a thing hello
also i know I KNOW that fugitives and titanium need some love
they will GET that love, i promise
ok ok now for the lowdown on this story-
warnings: none for this chap, but OH BOOY will there be some warnings in the future. this is not a happy story
ship: ralbert, some kinda spalbert (but not romantic. its like,,,,platonic ish)
word count: 3228
editing: no, so plz excuse any shit
-
CHAP 1
June, 2006
Albert tugged at the collar of his uniform, inwardly cursing the stifling heat of the shaky boeing aircraft he’d been trapped on for the past fifteen hours. A thin sheen of sweat covered his entire being and he pushed a hand through his hair, wrinkling his nose a little at the short length of his regulation cut. He usually liked to keep his hair on the longer side when off-duty, framing his face and curling at the nape of his neck. And even though he supposed he should be used to the short, crew cut by now, he didn’t have to like it. Besides, the longer hair suited his face better. Or so that’s what he was always told.
The announcement of their descent echoed through the plane and Albert sighed, vaguely wishing he’d pissed one more time before the fasten seatbelt sign flashed on again. The eclectic mix of uniform service members that surrounded him began shifting around, readjusting their seats back to their original positions and stowing their tray tables.
Albert rolled his eyes minutely, realizing that he should probably do the same before some asshole called him out for it. Everything always needed to be perfect around these people. Dress right dress and all that crap.
But as much as all this shit gave him a headache, there was no place he’d rather be.
His circumstances growing up had been less than ideal. A dead mother at nine and an absent father at eleven had gotten him dumped into the foster care system with his two brothers (who he eventually got separated from and hadn’t heard from since. Which he definitely wasn’t still fucking devastated about. No, he was good at moving on and dealing with his shit. Yeah, very good). No less than fourteen homes later, he turned 18 and finally, finally, he was done being some fucking ward of the state.
But fourteen homes meant just as many, if not more, schools. And when you’re being shoved from household to household with nothing but a couple bags filled with clothes and other absolute essentials, you don’t really have time to do well in school or apply to colleges.
The National Guard had sounded like a blessing at the time. An absolute saving grace with health and financial benefits to last him a literal lifetime. He always had been good at listening to directions and taking orders, so he figured he’d be a perfect fit. And he had.
Those first few years between enlisting and basic training had been some of the best of Albert’s life. He’d made bonds to last him a lifetime, felt the thrill of having something that was his and he was good at. He had found purpose where he previously had none.
Then three planes had gone and crashed into the Twin Towers and Pentagon and everything went to shit.
Albert and one of his buddies from Basic, Sean (who went by Spot, but nobody knew why. Albert had asked once and Spot had just smiled and kicked him in the shin) were living in New York at the time, having moved into a little apartment on the Upper East Side. The morning of September 11 had yielded one of the clearest, bluest skies Albert had seen in his entire life.
He remembered waking up to a call from his squad leader, barely able to comprehend the situation through his killer fucking hangover. He and Spot really hadn’t planned on getting hammered on a Monday night, but sometimes life in your early 20s just happened like that.
The next four days had been a blur of smoke, sirens, debri, and dust. So much dust. It had taken weeks for Albert to feel like the damn stuff was finally out of his lungs and if he still thought about it too hard, a phantom tickle would creep up in his chest.
He tried not to think about that week too much. Spot and him had returned home around the same time, both in varying states of exhaustion and dissociation. They didn’t discuss what they had individually been through, but an unspoken understanding of the nightmare they’d both witnessed had led them into the same bed that night, the need to forget shrouding everything else.
Albert and Spot’s relationship wasn’t anything that could be truly named. They weren’t best friends. They weren’t boyfriends. They weren’t fuckbuddies. But they understood each other better than anyone Albert had ever known in his 27 years on this god forsaken earth. And in that understanding, the knowledge that sometimes you just need to feel good for a night went without having to be spoken. Feeling good didn’t just mean sex, though. They cuddled a fair amount too, which was strange considering how touch averse Spot was with other people. During their first deployment, though, several long days had led to quiet nights spent in each others arms, where they allowed themselves to forget the horrors they were subject to witness and just be.
They were basically inseparable. So when the heavens happened upon them and they were to be deployed into the same battalion again, despite Albert climbing through the ranks and surpassing Spot by a fair deal, he had silently thanked a god he hadn’t prayed to since eight years old.
Leaving home was easy, mostly because Albert didn’t have anyone to leave behind. Spot was already overseas, having left a couple weeks earlier while Albert finished up some things down at the Pentagon. While being deployed sucked, Albert at least had Spot to look forward to.
The plane jolted, tilting a little as it made it made its final descent into the Tal Afar Airport. Albert leaned back against the headrest, closing his eyes and white knuckling the armrests. He was a fine flyer once the plane was up in the air, but taking off and landing fucked him upside down and sideways.
He was just beginning to count his breaths, clamping down the rolling waves of motion sickness, when a low voice spoke next to him.
“Are you alright, sir?” Albert cracked open an eye, glancing sideways at the person next to him, “Not a fan of flying?”
The guy looked...rugged. There was no other word for it. His black hair was cut close to his head, well within regulation and looking a little patchy at the sides. His wide set eyes were sharp and calculating, glinting with something like mischief that would unsettle Albert if he hadn’t seen that look a million times over in the mirror. He looked younger than Albert by a good few years and the lack of shadows in his gaze and on his face cast a look of innocence over him. Albert remembered those days- when naivety led him to a false sense of security. He had been untouchable; indestructible.
“Only take off and landing,” Albert said, clearing his throat and putting on what had to look like a strained smile. He pried his right hand off the armrest and held it out for the guy to shake, “First Sergeant Albert Dasilva. Good to meet ya.”
The guy had a firm handshake and he didn’t seem to mind that Albert’s palm was a little sweaty from nerves, “Private Elmer Kasprzak.”
Albert smiled, “First time in the Sandbox?”
Elmer smiled, looking a little self deprecating, “That obvious, sir?”
Albert shook his head, aiming for comforting, but still sounding vaguely choked, “I just know the look. Way too excited.”
“Oh,” Elmer furrowed his brow, looking like he was trying to decide whether to be offended or not, “I’m just happy to finally be on the frontline, sir.”
“I commend you,” Albert said, wistfully, “It’s a brave thing to be doing with such a strong attitude.”
Elmer blushed, “Thank you, sir.”
“You don’t have to tack ‘sir’ onto every sentence,” Albert assured him, “Some guys are really strict about that, so keep in the habit, but I’m not too picky.”
“Oh, okay s- uh, okay,” Elmer flushed deeper and Albert chuckled a little bit patting his knee.
The plane touched down with a jerk and Albert closed his eyes again briefly while it slowed. Eventually, it came to a stop and the fasten seatbelt sign flashed off. Albert reopened his eyes to see Elmer staring out the window, awe and apprehension noticeable through the look in his eyes and the crease between his brows.
“C’mon, Private,” Albert said, unbuckling and clapping the younger man’s shoulder, “we got places to be.”
XXX
Getting assigned last minute to a completely new battalion and then being shipped overseas two weeks later was not how Race suspected he’d be spending his first year out of West Point. He didn’t mind really. He hadn’t really had any true connections to his old squad and after his little incident with Oscar Delancey, a new start was appreciated.
That didn’t make the whiplash of deployment any less bittersweet.
His nerves hadn’t stopped twisting since General Kelly had informed him of his new assignment, going back and forth between excitement and paralyzing anxiety until his gut was furling with both simultaneously. But now that he was here, things were starting to settle within him. This was his life now and it was going to be his life for the next twelve months. Better get used to it.
He put the last of his shirts in one of his dresser drawers, casting a cursory glance around his side of the room, before eyeing his cheap, Walmart alarm clock. 09:45. The next wave of soldiers should be arriving soon and with them, his roommate.
A wave of anticipation rolled through Race’s stomach and he grimaced. He had yet to make any meaningful connections with his soldiers so far, many of them wary of having a new CO. But he was a people person and this alienation was killing him, even though he understood their hesitation. Part of him hoped that whoever his roommate ended up being wouldn’t hold the same vigilance towards him. Maybe he could even make a friend. Someone he could theoretically get a drink with. Completely hypothetically, of course. Drinking wasn’t allowed on base.
Sighing, Race grabbed his patrol cap, cramming it onto his head and grabbing a pack of cigarettes from his desk. He bounded down the stairs to his trailer and made his way over to the coffee line, nodding his greeting at a small clique of soldiers as he passed. He only got a couple nods in return, and every single one of them wore matching, judgemental looks. Race tried not to take it to heart.
The line for coffee took forever and Race hummed a little to himself, toying with the pack of cigarettes in his pocket while he waited for the cue to move at a snail’s pace. Once he held his little styrofoam cup in hand, he ventured off to the smoking pit, draining his coffee along the way.
Soldiers were beginning to arrive and Race lit up a cigarette, watching with casual curiosity as groups flooded into camp. He eyed them, vaguely wondering who each of them was. Who he would get along with. Who he would despise. Who would despise him.
He quickly got overwhelmed again and stomped out his finished stub, lighting up another to kill a few more minutes.
An indiscernible amount of time passed and Race kicked his last cigarette to the dust, pulling back the sleeve of his ACU jacket and checking the time. 11:15. Damn, that coffee line really had taken forever.
Deeming his little break long enough, Race wandered back towards his trailer, heart rate kicking up a bit when he noticed that the door was propped open.
Steeling himself, Race climbed the stairs, knocking once on the door jamb, before ducking inside.
The person inside turned his head, peering up from where he was folding a few grey, regulation workout pants on his recently made cot.
He was wearing his ACU pants and boots, but his jacket had been discarded and with a quick glance around, Race found it draped over the back of his desk chair. The guy was attractive- a sharp jawline accentuated by his pale skin and dark red hair, which was trimmed attractively, fading up the sides. It was as if the guy knew from experience how to make the most of the look without pushing regulation. His arms and chest were muscular, highlighted by the stretch of his tan, liner t-shirt.
A charming smile stretched across the guys face as he straightened up, crossing the small expanse of their room and holding out a hand, which Race took firmly.
“First Sergeant Albert Dasilva,” He said, his voice smooth and a little gravelly, “Pleasure to meet you, sir.”
Race smiled back, “Lieutenant Antonio Higgins,” he said, hoping he sounded a lot more confident than he felt, “I’m honored to be working with you and your squadron and I’m looking forward to getting to know everyone.”
Albert dropped his hand, turning back to continue unpacking his things. He only had one large duffle and two small carry on bags and suddenly, Race felt self conscious about his two duffle and impressive assortment of other luggage.
“Honestly, we’re just lucky that you were available to serve with us, sir,” Dasilva said, straightening his shoes by his closet, dress right dress, “Everyone was really bummed and pretty panicked when Lieutenant Morris fucked up his leg, so it’s great that General Kelly was able to get you on board so quick.”
Race crossed to his side of the room, tossing his cap back onto his cot and slumping into his own desk chair, “I was pretty eager to get overseas, but I wasn’t expecting it to happen so quick.”
Dasilva hummed, sounding a little surprised, “This is your first deployment?” He asked, looking over his shoulder and raising his eyebrows a little.
“Yeah,” Race said, ducking his head a little as he flushed, “Just got outta West Point last May.”
Dasilva whistled, looking impressed, “You musta done damn well if you’re already a Lieutenant,” he said, smiling a little challengingly, “and add the fact that Kelly sought you out directly,” he shook his head, bemused, “Damn, sir, you’ve got quite the rep.”
Race wrinkled his nose, “My so called ‘rep’ ain’t really getting me anywhere with your men.”
Dasilva shrugged a shoulder, waving his hand dismissively, “Don’t take whatever they’re doing to heart,” he said, “They’re all still upset about Lieutenant Morris. He was a great Lieutenant and a lot of the guys are still feeling his absence. They’ll warm up to you, sir.”
Race grunted noncommittally. He knew that Dasilva was trying to make him feel better with his little pep talk, but the knot in Race’s stomach only grew. It seemed like he had pretty fucking big shoes to fill.
“Aha!”
Race was pulled out of his spiraling worries by Dasilva’s voice and he looked up to see him holding a toothbrush and toothpaste.
“Finally found them,” Dasilva said, triumphantly. He waved them a little in Race’s direction, “I’m gonna go freshen up. That fifteen hour flight always makes me feel grungy as shit.”
Race nodded his acknowledgement, watching as his new bunkmate exited the room and traipsed down the steps, leaving the door open behind him. He could see him greeting other soldiers with a level of enthusiasm and charm Race could only dream to match. His jealousy spiked even further when he got equally happy greetings in response.
Blowing out a measured breath, Race flipped open his notebook, toying with the pristine patch on the front as he vaguely studied the Arabic terms he’d been practicing on the plane ride there.
He was pretty good already, if he said so himself, with an impressive language proficiency score of 3+ under his belt. But solidifying knowledge was always beneficial, no matter one’s skill.
A few minutes later, Dasilva bounded back through the door to their trailer, finally easing the door shut behind him. He stuck his toothpaste and toothbrush back into his little hygiene kit and tucked the thing neatly into the top drawer of his dresser.
Race kept his eyes on his notebook, not entirely sure how to progress with their conversation. He was out of his depth- usually being the loud and confident one, but somehow rendered socially inept in this completely foreign environment.
Dasilva didn’t seem to notice his internal battle, though, and a moment later, he spoke up.
“You fluent yet?”
Race startled a bit, looking up, “Almost, I’m still working on conversational communication, but I’ve got all the basics in the bag.”
Dasilva grinned, seemingly not jarred by the sudden change in language, “That’s good. Already something you have over Lieutenant Morris. With him, we almost always needed a terp on site.”
“No need for one of those here,” Race said, switching back to english.
“Obviously, sir,” Dasilva agreed. There was another lull in conversation, but Dasilva didn’t seem uncomfortable, “Do you like running?”
Race felt his stomach flip excitedly, “Yeah, actually, I love it. Did track all through middle in high school. That’s actually where-” He cut himself off hastily. Dasilva did not need to know about his little adolescent nickname that he still used unironically. Not yet anyway.
Dasilva gave him a funny look, but didn’t push, “Great. I go running every morning with one of my buddies before call. You’re welcome to join us if you want.”
“That sounds nice,” Race said, “I’d love to. Who’s your buddy?” He added out of curiosity.
“Sean Conlon,” Dasilva stated and Race hummed, recognizing the name, but not having a face to put it with, “He and I go way back.”
The weight of the words seemed to hold something heavy, but Race returned Dasilva’s courtesy and didn’t push.
“Sounds like a good guy,” Race said, “What time should I wake up?”
“We usually go around 04:45,” Dasilva said, leaning back into his regulation pillows, “You’ll probably hear my alarm anyway.”
Race nodded, “I’ll set one on my clock, too, just in case.”
“Good plan.”
A knock at their door had both of them exchanging a curious look. Race stood to get it and found a taller man with straight, cropped brown hair and a rigid nose standing at ease outside the door. He smiled cordially when Race looked up at him and offered him a hand.
“Lieutenant Higgins?” Race nodded and the man shook his hand firmly, “Excellent. Captain David Jacobs, it’s nice to meet you.”
“You too, sir.”
“General Kelly would like to see you over in his office,” Jacobs continued, sounding a little warmer. His eyes flicked over Race’s shoulder to Dasilva, who hastily stood at attention.
“First Sergeant Albert Dasilva, sir,” Dasilva said, his voice hardening as he saluted.
“At ease, soldier,” Jacobs said, “Pleasure to meet you.”
They all stood in silence for a short pause, before Race awkwardly turned and grabbed his patrol cap.
“General Kelly requested for me now, sir?” He asked Jacobs.
“Yes,” Jacobs confirmed.
“Alright,” Race placed the cap on his head and looked back to where Dasilva was still standing, “I’ll see you later, Sergeant.”
“See you, sir,” Dasilva smirked, “Good luck.”
Race resisted stating that he’ll need it as the trailer door swung closed behind him.
-
thanks for reading, chiefs
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