#help me search for houseboats
Note
Do you know about the houseboat community in Sausalito, CA? There's some really neat ones that have been there since the 60's
I did not! They look fantastic, thank you!
39 notes
·
View notes
Text
don't you worry, there's still time | chef luca x fem!reader, feat. marcus brooks
summary: after losing his mother, marcus searches for joy and stillness in copenhagen. you and luca, who are more than happy to host, decide to take a big next step in your relationship. a oneshot from the world of 'burn your life down.'
warnings: fluff, light angst, grief, death, light smut, second person pov, swearing, danish inaccuracies, off-canon connection to the storyline of the bear.
word count: 5.8k
listen to: the playlist
a/n: wow, i missed this world! who is ready for the reveal of chef's restaurant name?! while i don't think i have the bandwidth to write another full series (nor a linear story to tell) i'm thinking of creating a second part to 'burn your life down' where we just get to drop in and see what they're up to. thoughts??
chef luca masterlist | full masterlist
After a tumultuous holiday season, it doesn’t take long for Sydney to realize that her friend is in need of a little help. A reprieve, she so kindly explained to both Marcus and Carmy when she’d proposed the idea.
It was Sydney this time, who called Luca, knowing that she and Carmy would have to find something to do with Marcus. It wasn’t fair – that he’d lost his mom just before Thanksgiving – and they both agreed that Marcus needed to get out of dodge. Quick to act, Carmy set up a few stages in NYC for a week or so, which, while seemed to inspire Marcus, seemed to only plunge him further into a slump come Christmas.
“I don’t know. I think we gotta send him on some kinda… eat, pray, love trip. The guy can only sulk on my couch for so long before I consider jumping out of the window,” Sydney says, her attempt to lighten the mood with humor still genuine. “It’s getting sad, Carm. Like… real fuckin’ sad.”
“You’re right. Uh… what about Copenhagen?” Carmy pitches with a shrug, because he knows what all consuming grief feels like.
“Again?” she asks, uncertain of whether it’s the best choice that they could make.
“Yeah,” Carmy shrugs in response. “Think he got a lot of it last time. Could be good for him to go back to somewhere familiar… work with Luca again. You don’t think it’s a-?”
“No I do! I just-,” Sydney hesitates, though she knows her business partner makes a good point. “Familiarity will be good for him. To be around people he can trust.”
“You want me to uh-,” Carmy begins to offer, figuring he’ll make the call.
“Probably best if I explain the situation. Just ‘cause, you know, I know more of what’s going on… just send me his info and I’ll call later,” Sydney interjects.
Carmy agrees with a curt nod before adding in:
“Uh… okay yeah. Yeah.”
*
You get plenty of time to prepare for Marcus’ visit, performing all kinds of fancy footwork to arrange a proper visit – a week’s worth of time spent staging and living in Copenhagen. When Luca finds out that the prolific houseboat, a chef retreat of sorts that’s always been an option for lodging, is booked for the week and a half that Marcus plans on visiting, you offer up your place without hesitation.
The arrangement goes as follows: while Marcus stays at yours at no cost, you’ll stay with Luca for the duration of the time.
This is how you find yourself at the massive Ikea on Dybbølsbro on a Saturday morning with Luca, in search of a set of fresh bed linens intended for guests.
“I really should host more. And Astrid said she and Lina were planning a trip out here so… why not kill two birds with one stone?” you’d reasoned to your boyfriend, making a strong case for why you and Luca should make this little shopping trip.
“What do you think of the blue?” Luca asks you, as you run your hand over a set of the display sheets, checking for softness.
“Don’t know if the blue is what I’m going for. I was thinking of something warmer. Maybe a yellow or… I don’t know. I’ve kind of been into that trendy rust color as of late,” you reply with a shrug, moving onto the warmer colors.
Luca chuckles and with a small shake of his head, he clarifies his previous questions with:
“No, I meant for me.”
“What do you mean?” you ask him curiously, his comment pulling all of your focus as you search his face for answers. “You just got new bedding.”
And expensive ones too.
But as your eyes follow his gaze, you realize that he’s not talking about sheets, focused on the XL Twin-sized duvets just above where the sheets messily fall along the shelf.
“I was thinking…” Luca trails off, checking in with you before he continues, with “... maybe it’s time I get two duvets… you know… for us.” He takes a beat, and a step towards you, and you know you’ll never stand a chance against his boyish charm as one side of his mouth turns up into a smile.
You’re no stranger to the Scandinavian duvet method – two twin duvets for one king sized bed – but it sounds like Luca’s suggestion is about way more than buying an extra duvet on this trip.
“I want you to feel at home… at my place."
“I do,” you reply, almost instantly, a warmth spreading through your belly as you take a step towards him.
“But I mean really… feel like it’s your home. Because it is. It could be. You know… if you want it to be,” Luca continues, this time with more insistence, a look of hopefulness in his deep blue eyes.
“Are you… are you asking me to move in with you?” you manage to get out, your heart skipping a beat.
“Why not? We could use this week to try it out,” he suggests so casually that you practically have to do a double take. “See how it goes while Marcus stays at your place?”
“Yeah I-... that sounds like a good plan, yeah,” you stammer out, the grin on your face undeniable as you nod enthusiastically in the middle of a goddamn furniture store.
“Besides,” Luca says, clearing his throat as his tone changes to one that’s much more playful. “You’re an absolute blanket hog and a repeat offender at that.” Luca winks your way as you roll your eyes with a laugh in response. “This could prevent some of our silly little quarrels, don’t you think, love?”
“Uh huh,” you sound, your face skeptical as you look his way again. “Preventative measures. Sure, babe.”
Luca chuckles before leaning down to press a chaste kiss to your lips, right then and there, in the Ikea bed linen section, the place you’ll now forever think of as the place your boyfriend asked you to move in with him.
Connection
When Marcus arrives in Copenhagen, you’ve arranged your home with the most comfort in mind, having already packed a week’s worth of things and left for Luca’s. You can only imagine what he must be going through, deciding that something like that – losing your mother – though inevitable, is your goddamn worst nightmare.
“Marcus,
Enjoy your stay and please reach out if you need anything. I can’t wait to meet you!”
…is the note that you leave him, along with a few morning pastries you picked up from your favorite baggeri across the street, and your number scribbled down at the bottom of the notepad.
As Marcus arrives, his eyes drawn immediately to your note and gift, Marcus smiles to himself, noticing that you left a very nice looking bottle of wine on the counter as well. He’s moved by your generosity, considering you’ve never met, and the fact that you’re willing to take so much care, extend this much kindness to a stranger, causes a wave of softness to wash over him.
Maybe, just maybe, he can find softness again – the last few months riddled with pain, grief, and numbness to get through the days.
While he came here to work, encouraged by his friends that a change of scenery may do his broken heart some good, it’s the first time Marcus has had a chance to be still. His feelings of grief sit heavier here and it catches him off guard, uncertain that he’s quite ready to sit with them yet. He pushes aside the thought, focusing on exploring your home and unpacking his bags. Marcus knows how to stay busy – he’s become an expert at it by now – reminding himself that he’s got work at 5 am sharp tomorrow.
*
“A little too much, chef. Take it down by about 15 grams,” Luca directs, his voice even and sure as he inspects the balls of dough that Marcus currently shapes.
“Yes, chef,” Marcus nods in understanding, plopping the ball of dough back on the scale to adjust the measurement.
The two of them work like this for the rest of the morning, Luca treading carefully while keeping things professional, while Marcus buries himself in the work – something that feels good, safe, right.
He’s missed this. While Marcus has one chef he works with directly at the restaurant, he’s the expert – the head patissier. He misses being surrounded by excellence, getting to be a student of someone who is just as driven, if not more, and inspired. It’s good, quiet, calm, yet there’s a focus and intensity in Luca’s kitchen that feels like a breath of fresh air.
His stage trip to New York has been more of a mess than beneficial. Maybe it had been the chaos of the city, or the chaos of the chefs he was working with. Maybe it was the fact that Marcus, though hungry for a distraction, hadn’t quite been ready to walk directly into the line of fire yet.
As Marcus’ practiced hands move with the dough, there’s a newfound confidence in the way that he works that's not lost on Luca. Luca watches his friend carefully, pride swelling in his chest as his mentee makes the adjustment with ease and diligence.
“Can I join you?” Luca asks, gesturing towards Marcus' workstation.
“‘Course, chef,” Marcus replies, his response short yet reverent.
As Luca joins him, finding a space to the right of Marcus, he busies his hands with rolling each perfectly measured ball of dough into mini boules, ready to proof. The two of them work quietly, side by side, the air between them heavy with words unsaid. He can feel it – the weight that lays so heavily on Marcus' heart – but Luca doesn’t want to bring it up, uninterested in forcing the conversation. Especially about something so painful, something he knows that Marcus has barely begun working through.
“Thanks, again. For uh… you know… letting me come work,” Marcus begins, momentarily checking in with Luca to gauge a reaction.
“‘Course,” Luca replies, his answer instantaneous. “You’re welcome here any time, mate.”
“Yeah?” Marcus asks, stealing a glance in Luca’s direction.
“Yeah,” Luca responds with a certain nod.
“And uh… shit. I can’t thank your girlfriend enough for letting me crash at her place,” Marcus adds, as he works through his discomfort and overwhelm from the wave of feelings that begin to bubble up in his chest.
“You can thank her yourself on Saturday,” Luca brings up, excited over the fact that Marcus will not only be meeting his girlfriend, but staging at her restaurant too. “She’s really looking forward to meeting you.”
Marcus nods slowly, his hands the only steady thing about him as he continues to focus on his work.
“I just mean-, well, she didn’t have to-. ‘S not like either of you owed it to me or anything and I-. You guys just really came through…” Marcus trails off, wanting to make his gratitude clear. It means more to him that he can articulate so instead he settles for, “So thank you. Again.”
Luca shrugs with an aplomb about him as he returns with, “We got you, mate.” He pauses before continuing, fully aware that Marcus isn’t quite comfortable with the feelings that have presented themself in this moment. “And the way I see it, I wouldn’t have met her if it weren’t for you – for our conversation the last time you were here – so we really do owe you for it.”
This time Luca makes an effort to check in with Marcus, gauging his emotional capacity as he concludes with:
“But that’s not what any of this is about: debts, who owes who what. We were both more than happy to host you. That’s what mates are for.”
It’s not till the end of the next shift that it hits him, and Marcus finds himself sitting outside of the restaurant on a bench across the street. He’s not sure whether it’s the jet lag or the exhaustion of the 5 am start time in another time zone, but it hits him all at once, like a ton of bricks. Suddenly consumed with the feelings that he’s been trying his best to avoid, all he can do is pause, completely caught off guard by the strength of them.
Quietly, Luca joins him, having spotted him on his way home, rerouting himself in Marcus’ direction instead.
All he can think of are the words you’ve asked him, and he you, time and time again – the ones that cut right to the core of you each and every time – that show you how much he cares.
“How’s your heart?” Luca asks Marcus, after a few minutes of sitting on the bench together in silence.
And how is his heart?
He’s not sure how to answer, considering it’s been a while since he’s really had a chance to check in, the crippling reality of this great loss is too much to bear alone.
His heart is broken, shattered into an infinite amount of pieces.
He, and his heart will never be the same again and he doesn’t know where or how he’ll ever put it back together.
His heart is… lost, in desperate need of finding a soft place to land.
Marcus takes a while to answer, racking his brain for any semblance of a cohesive answer.
He waits. And then he waits.
Until finally, he can answer.
“I uh… don’t know. But I’m hoping this trip will help me figure that out.”
Creativity
“do you remember the 21st night of september? love was changin' the minds of pretenders while chasin' the clouds away.” (earth, wind, and fire.)
Everything about the way you run your kitchen feels different than what he’s used to.
It’s sure as hell different from his last stage trip to New York, Marcus thinks to himself.
With Carmy and Syd, working with them, there’s a buzz of chaos that runs underneath even the most organized and efficient service. It’s something integral to what they have, gives an edge to The Bear that seems to make it hum in all the right ways. Even with Luca, who comes from fine dining and Michelin-starred restaurants, there’s a quiet and determined focus – an intensity to his work – even without the undercurrent of chaos.
But this. But you.
Your kitchen somehow teeters the line of organized chaos and reckless play so well that Marcus understands why this works – why it’s efficient.
Still, he watches as you and your staff dance – no, literally dance – around each other to the highly recognizable Earth, Wind, and Fire tune. Mathilde sings along while chopping chives for the brothy mushroom grain bowl, while, mid-phrase, manages to yell out a short command to a line cook in Danish. Out of the corner of his eye, Marcus catches Jesper working the dining room, while you finish plating two more dishes, ready to be walked out.
It’s as if you find focus in the center of all the noise, somewhere between the electric energy between you, Mathilde, and your staff, and the feel-good vibes and homeyness of the restaurant that you’ve created.
You had been more than welcoming when Marcus had walked through the doors of your restaurant, Kokuore, mere hours ago. You’d given him the tour, shown him which station he’d be working this evening, then warmly introduced him to your entire team before family meal started. Marcus can’t stop moving, too afraid to be still in fear of falling apart in the presence of how comforting you’ve been.
And this? Your kitchen. It’s all joy, connection, and artistry.
It’s not hard for him to see why Luca fell in love with you.
“Marcus, feel free to take a break,” he hears you say, as you nod towards the dining room through the open kitchen.
As Marcus follows your gesture, he notices that Luca’s arrived, remembering something about a standing Saturday date.
“You sure, chef?” Marcus asks, looking to you for approval.
“Positive,” you nod, reassuringly.
Marcus nods in return to confirm, before taking his apron off and making his way over to the dining room where Luca is exchanging a few words with Jesper.
“Wassup, chef,” he greets his mentor.
“You know, you can call me Luca,” Luca reminds him with a crooked smile. “At least when we’re off the clock.”
Marcus chuckles, “Uh… yeah alright. That’s gonna take some getting used to.”
Luca chuckles in return, before Jesper shows them to his table, mentioning something about Americans being so afraid of fluidity.
“She’s brilliant isn’t she?” Luca asks, in reference to you as his eyes catch yours from across the room.
“Nah for real. Like… mad scientist vibes,” Marcus concurs with a smile. “She can throw down for sure.” He pauses as they sit down at Luca’s table. “So you come every Saturday night, huh?”
“When I can, yeah, which is… most Saturdays,” Luca replies honestly, before beginning to list why he’s kept up this routine. “But it’s nice. Keeps me inspired. I get to see my girl, walk her home at night which makes me feel better.” Luca leans back in his chair this time, crossing his arms over his chest. “And I never mind helping close down at the end of the night.”
Marcus hums in response before one of the waitstaff comes to their table, with a glass of wine in hand, on the house. They chat for a little longer before Marcus returns to the kitchen, his excitement for what you’re doing here filling him to the brim.
As dinner service comes to an end, Marcus can’t help but notice the chemistry and how unique it is as you all work together in perfect harmony. There’s a warmth to it, something different, and he begins to understand why the name of the restaurant comes from the word, heart.
Luca is quick to get up from his table, quickly finishing his glass of wine as he offers to help close down. The music volume goes from underscoring the buzz of a busy night of service, to the main attraction, as a motown throwbacks playlist begins to blare from the speakers. You all work quickly and efficiently, eager to close down, get home, and begin your weekends, but it’s when an old Otis Redding track that Luca decides to put a pause on the progress.
“Dance with me, my love,” he says, offering his hand out to you as a huge gesture that earns a few looks and giggles from some of your staff.
“Luca,” you begin to protest, looking around.
“You can take three minutes,” he offers, exchanging a look with you this time.
You nod, taking his hand as you agree with, “Okay.”
And as Luca wraps you up in his arms, engaging you in a slow dance to Otis Redding’s “That’s How Strong my Love is,” you chuckle, relaxing into him.
“Oh, get a room, you two!” Jesper calls out after you, teasingly.
“She pretends – always puts up a fight – as if they don’t do this every single week,” Mathilde adds, as an explanation to Marcus.
“Every week?” Marcus asks, a little surprised by both you and Luca’s willingness to pause and revel in a moment with each other, instead of just pushing through.
“Yeah. Romantics, they are,” Jesper chimes in.
Marcus smiles to himself. It’s a reminder of slowness – something he hasn’t let himself experience in a long time – and for just a moment, he lets himself settle into the feeling.
*
You don’t even mind that you woke up an hour before your alarm the moment you feel Luca’s arms wrapped around you, and his lips against your soft skin. The low rumble of his voice resonates across your shoulders, sending chills down your spine as you arch into his hands, his arms wrapped around you.
“I know we’re only a few days in… of our little trial,” Luca begins, the bass of his voice reverberating through your shoulder blade.
“Our living together trial?” you clarify with your ask, letting out a gasp as he nibbles on your shoulder gently.
“Yeah. Just wonderin’ where your mind’s at,” Luca murmurs, his eager hands beginning to explore underneath the oversized shirt you put on before bed last night.
“Well… I really like this,” you reply, the sound that comes out of your mouth somewhere between a giggle and a moan.
“Hmmmm?” Luca sounds, innocently.
“This… Waking up to you thing.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Mhm.”
Luca’s name escapes your lips as his fingers gently begin to play with your nipples, his erection hard against your back as you begin to grind your hips back against.
“And the access to round the clock sex is really a bonus,” you sigh, blissfully.
“Oh yeah?” he asks you again, a large tatted hand slipping between your legs.
“Yeah… I’d even be… interested in leaning into that part… right now,” you hiss in reply to his touch. “Considering you’re distracting me with sex.”
“Hmmmmm. ‘S not just it, love. Have I told you how grateful I am for what you’ve done for Marcus?” Luca asks, his mouth back on your neck. He presses your body against him, your back to his chest as he rocks his hips against yours.
“Luca!” you protest, unable to focus on the conversation.
“It’s your kindness. Your heart… I’m in awe of it,” he continues to praise you as the two of you begin to set a rhythm between your bodies.
It’s all heat, and soft sighs of pleasure, and foreplay.
“Well, I know a little something about what he’s going through,” you answer breathlessly. You begin to impatiently push the hem of your shirt higher so that you can give Luca more access to your body.
“That’s why I love you,” Luca murmurs into your skin, his hands all over you, his focus unbroken and your mind beginning to go blank. His hands are tearing your shirt over your head as he continues to praise you. “Your heart, the way you share it.”
“You helped me get there, baby,” you gasp, turning your head so that you can kiss your boyfriend.
Instead of answering, Luca nods knowingly, before crashing his lips into yours. His mouth on yours feels like heaven, and you can’t believe that you ever fought your feelings for him.
“Ah fuck it. Let’s do it. Let’s move in together,” you surrender to him, lost in the moment.
“Yeah?” Luca pauses, pulling away, as if almost can’t believe what he’s hearing.
“Yeah. I mean it, baby,” you nod, catching his gaze, certain in the way you answer. “I wanna wake up to you every morning.”
“Me too, my love,” Luca grins, before pressing his lips to yours again. “Now will you please let me fuck you, darling?”
“Fuck yes.”
Luca spends the next hour showing you just how grateful he is for you, while you in return, spend the next hour showing him just how sure you are about this decision.
And you are sure. If mornings like this are a constant for the rest of your life, you think you’ll die a happy woman.
You’ve found a home in him, and he, you. He’s the person you want to come home to at the end of the day. He’s the man that puts a smile on your face every single time he gets on his soapbox about how Beyonce is the performer of your lifetimes, and he is unequivocally the best, most unexpected thing in your life.
Luca Davies, in almost a year of knowing him, and eight months of getting to love him, has somehow become your favorite person.
By the time you and Luca are both showered and decent-for-company, you’ve begun your mise en place for brunch, completely content with the fact that you’re running a little behind schedule (and in all fairness, the sex was worth it – it’s always worth it). The smell of bacon sizzling away on your carbon steel fry pan fills the entire apartment, and you’re glad that Luca opened a window earlier. It’s not exactly window weather yet, but the air ventilation is a must when it comes to smoked meats.
While you play catch up with your brunch plan, Luca’s busy welcoming Marcus in, pouring him a cup of coffee using the extensive ten-step pour over he’s been fixated on ever since he purchased it, while they chat here and there about what else he’s explored in Denmark.
“Been too busy working, to be honest but… I don’t know. I might wander around today… see what kind of stuff I can get into,” Marcus answers frankly with a shrug.
“Ah, mate. We just had a walk at the Frederiksberg Gardens. Definitely something I’d recommend checking out,” Luca suggests, his eyes lighting up with excitement as he mentions it.
Luca continues moving through his list of recommendations, Marcus chiming in with places and things he did the last time he was here, excited to spend a few days exploring the city instead of just working.
“Wanderin’ around. I dunno. There’s something about it. ‘S good for the spirit, you know?” Luca concludes.
“Yeah,” Marcus nods in agreement, before turning his attention over to the French toast you’re working on. “Okay, I see you. What is that? Mascarpone?”
“Yeah, good eye. It’s just something new I’m working on: a mascarpone stuffed french toast. We’re actually talking about extending our hours… maybe doing weekend brunch,” you answer thoroughly, as you dip the stuffed pieces of bread into their egg batter, pre-cook.
“For real? That’s sick,” Marcus compliments, watching you carefully. “I mean… shit. You could have a whole brunch spot.”
“What do you mean?” you ask, looking up from your cutting board.
“A Brunch spot,” Marcus repeats, simply, the excitement in his eyes at the new idea, evident. “Yeah, you know. Luca could do the morning pastries. You work your magic on the rest of the menu.”
“That’s a novel idea! What do you think, my love?” Luca asks, intrigue in his voice as he searches your face for a reaction.
“I-,” you begin, looking from Luca to Marcus, then back to Luca again. “I… never thought about it like that.” You take a beat, eyeing Luca carefully. “We’ve never talked about going into business together.”
Marcus shrugs, before picking up his coffee mug, “Yo, it’s just a thought. I think you two would be unstoppable together.”
“Unstoppable, eh?” Luca asks, his eyes locked with yours.
You only hum in response, raising a quirked eyebrow in Luca’s direction before adding:
“It’s certainly one hell of an idea, Marcus.”
Kokuore
Monday afternoon, you find yourself at your restaurant with Marcus Brooks, on a day off.
“I might need a little extra help with something tomorrow. We’re closed tomorrow, but I want to get ahead on this special I’m working on. Could use the help of a pastry chef. What do you say?” you’d proposed to him, over one more espresso before he left.
To Luca’s dismay, (“ you silly Americans just can’t enjoy a day of doing nothing,” he’d teased the two of you) Marcus had given you an unwavering yes, reassuring you that he was down to learn everything he possibly could from you, especially while he was here.
And it’s true. You do need the help. But should he want someone to talk to – someone who gets it, even just a little bit – you want to offer him the space and the opportunity to do so.
“As a patissier, do you get tasked with pasta? At The Bear?” you ask Marcus, as you pleat a dumpling in hand with a speed that only comes with practice.
“Nah,” Marcus sounds, his focus on the dumpling he’s pleating too. His concentration on getting the pleats right is reverent and unbroken, even as he answers your question. “Our head chef, Carmy, he uh… he comes from an Italian American family so when we’ve done a stuffed pasta… he usually takes the lead on that.”
You nod in understanding, placing the dumpling you’ve just finished down on the full-sized sheet pan. The two of you sit across from each other, having pushed a few dining tables together as a makeshift workstation.
“Think Luca’ll take over this kinda stuff when you guys open a restaurant together?” Marcus asks, lightheartedly pushing his agenda from yesterday.
You laugh in response, your hands working quickly on yet another dumpling.
“For someone with no skin in the game, you’re really insistent on this idea,” you tease him in return.
“Don’t tell me you’ve never thought about it,” Marcus pushes right back, his tone still light.
“I…” you sigh, trailing off as you pause your work for a moment. “You know, we just said we’d move in together. That and a restaurant? Feels fast.”
“Oh shit.”
“Yeah.”
“Like… a few hours before you came over for brunch,” you elaborate, earning a whistle from Marcus. The two of you exchange a look, and a laugh, as you pick up another dumpling wrapper that you and Marcus rolled out together earlier.
“It’s a good idea though,” you add, stealing a glance his way so that he knows that you’re serious.
“Well, when you two inevitably do open a restaurant… I want ten percent,” Marcus jokes, earning another laugh from you.
“Deal,” you agree with him.
You and Marcus work like this, exchanging a few words, the conversation light, underscored by a softer acoustic soundtrack from one of your Spotify radio stations.
“So how’d you learn to cook like this?” Marcus asks you curiously.
“Uh…” you hesitate, treading carefully as you realize this conversation could open a can of worms.
“I don’t know how much Luca’s told you about me… but I was married… before him,” you begin, cautiously. “And… well, I learned a lot of this… a lot of traditional Japanese cooking from my mother-in-law.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. These are her dumplings actually – her recipe. She passed away last Fall and… well, it was important to me to celebrate her – to celebrate her life – by creating a few dishes for her,” you continue, and it’s as if all of the air has been sucked out of the room. “We’re bringing this one back as a special this month but um… yeah. I’m… still very much grieving and… it helps me remember her. Cooking her food helps me feel close to her, you know?”
“Yeah,” Marcus sighs, his heart heavy as he exhales.
He waits a beat.
And then another, having paused his work as he watches you pleat, head down, with expert hands.
The silence between you and Marcus is full, heavy, connected by shared experience. You wait for Marcus to say something, and when he doesn’t, you decide to continue.
“This restaurant… has so much of my heart in it: it’s got my love for Italian food from growing up in my best friend’s family’s restaurant, and it’s got my love for her – for Aiko – and everything she taught me,” you begin to explain. “And lately… it’s got a fresh perspective… inspired by the love I have with Luca, I think. Well, I know. Inspired by him… how this place brought us together.”
“The name itself is… totally made up, but means a lot to me. The Japanese word for heart is, kokoro, and the Italian word for heart is, cuore. Somehow an homage to my past… and was… Prophetic in so many ways too.”
As Marcus listens, Luca’s previous question lingers in his head:
How’s your heart?
At the time he didn’t know how to answer, and after five days in Copenhagen – after five days of doing what he loves in a place that he loves – his heart is somehow so full, yet so broken all at once. He’s filled with deep sorrow and with the spark of creativity all at the same time, and he’s just not sure how to hold all of this feeling inside of him.
Marcus waits a beat, opens his mouth, then lets the words fall out.
“It’s evident. In your food,” is all he manages to say. “It’s got soul. It’s got heart. I-, it’s inspiring. That’s for sure.”
“I made a dish. For Michael,” Marcus adds, his eyes on the dumpling he works on, but the guard on his heart beginning to fall away. “He was uh… well, he was the old owner of the restaurant, called The Beef back then. Carmy took over after he died. Felt right to honor him and his life, you know? When we reopened as The Bear.”
“Food is… it’s our art, you know?” you agree. “Sometimes it’s the only way I know how to express myself and… sometimes it’s just the thing that makes sense.”
“Yeah.”
A beat.
“Maybe one day I can make one for my mom,” Marcus says, his voice stuck in his throat as he admits, “I don’t know if I’m ready yet. But I think… I think I’d like to eventually.”
“Of course,” you reassure him gently. “You don’t have to be ready now. You don’t have to be ready ever. But when you are, your art will always be there.”
“Thanks,” Marcus nods solemnly.
You get up this time, realizing the sheet pan is full, and ready to be placed on the baker’s rack. As you return to the table with a new empty sheet pan, lined with parchment paper, Marcus finally asks you, his eyes soft, the heartbreak in them present.
“How’d you get through? You know. Losing her? Your mother-in-law?”
You return to your chair with a heavy sigh.
“I’ll let you know when I do,” you answer, letting up a soft chuckle. “It helps to have good people and… from what Luca’s told me, you do. But… I had to let ‘em in, let ‘em help me. Let ‘em love me. And in all honesty, most days I’m still just… taking it day by day.”
“Yeah, I-. I do. I got some really good people. Back home,” Marcus drags out slowly.
“Then that’s all that matters. Your people and your heart. The rest… you just-,” you start.
“Take day by day?” Marcus interjects, pausing to catch your eyes.
You and Marcus exchange a knowing look, the recognition of each others’ pain is met with empathy.
“Yeah. I think that's all we can do.”
By the end of your work session with Marcus, you’re ready to head home so that you can spend the rest of the day with Luca.
“What’re you gonna do with the rest of your day?” you ask Marcus, curiously.
With a sigh, and then a shrug, and a heart that feels just a little lighter, he answers with:
“Think I might wander around a bit. Someone once told me it’s good for the spirit.”
#chef luca#will poulter#luca the bear#the bear season 2#the bear headcanon#luca x reader#the bear hulu#the bear fx#the bear fanfiction#chef luca x reader#pastry chef luca#burn your life down
320 notes
·
View notes
Text
I feel like out of the Hook siblings, CJ is the only one who will go on to be a pirate.
Hear me out.
Harriet seems to be the mom. She carries the weight of the world on her shoulders. She took the role of caring for her siblings, and looking after the dock and pirate children. And from how it sounds, she doesn't have a large crew or anything like that. Her brother is in the large crew. Out of the three, Harriet is the one who will likely really settle down. Maybe she'll live on a houseboat, or right by the sea, but stability and quiet would be good for her.
Harry will follow Uma to the ends of the earth. Where Uma goes, he goes. But as of D3, it seems like Uma is going to be helping with the VK's. I can't see her abandoning them, instead she'd help create a good world for them. Sure, they can be in Auradon, but will all of them really leave the Isle? Or will they work to make a better place, while also finding homes and shelter for there kids? But since Uma likely isn't going to travel the seas, Harry won't either. (He'll still claim he's a pirate, he was raised one after all and that will never change. He just isn't out living the full pirate life)
But then you have CJ. CJ craves adventure. She craves the sea, the journey of finding treasure. She seems more interested in the searching for the treasure then finding it, to be honest. But in some ways, she reminds me of one Elizabeth Swann. If any of the Hooks decide to brush off good (to an extent, they aren't evil), and go the full pirate route, it's going to be CJ. This doesn't mean she won't visit, she pretends she doesn't like her siblings, but we know she loves them. She'll drop by unexpectedly, say hi to them and maybe visit Freddie, and leave before anyone else in Auradon knows.
But this is just my take on the Hooks and the life of a pirate, I'd love to hear others takes!
18 notes
·
View notes
Text
"we like each other" - lukadrien oneshot
(this is a lot longer than i meant for it to be but i hope you enjoy)
adrien! wait!" luka had no idea how he got into this situation. one minute he was talking with his sister on their houseboat and the next he was chasing his friend down the streets of paris.
adrien seemed to pick up speed with every few seconds that passed. oh how luka wished he participated in a sport of some kind.
"please, adrien! stop! please!" luka yelled in his friend's direction. he tried his hardest to catch up but eventually became too winded to continue. adrien turned a corner and disappeared behind a random store. luka slowed to a stop and tried to catch his breath.
what was going on? why was adrien running away? luka tried to think back to the conversation he had with juleka, in case adrien heard something that sent him on his way. nothing came to mind.
he pulled out his phone and shot a few texts to adrien, telling him that he was sorry for whatever adrien heard and that he hoped he would tell him what he and juleka did wrong.
he retraced his steps back to his boat. once he got on deck, he ignored his mom calling out to him for dinner prep and made his way to his room. he plopped down on his bed and tried to find answer which posed to be very hard without knowing adrien's thoughts.
luka snatched up his guitar and attempted to strum his way through the problem. he didn't know why it bothered him so much. obviously, adrien didn't want anyone to know what was bothering him but luka couldn't help but think that it was all his fault.
ten minutes later, a tap on his window caused luka to jump slightly. he snapped his head towards the sound to see cat noir peering in.
"you gonna let me in, guitar boy?" the cat-themed hero joked. luka stood and opened the window, still confused as to what was going on. cat noir leaped through the small circle gracefully and landed on the bedroom floor in a cat-like pose.
"what are you doing here, cat noir?" luka's voice was low and barely above a whisper. cat noir stood up and shrugged.
"i don't really know. i heard you were the one to go to when stricken with turmoil,"
"i guess i am," luka chuckled. he could've sworn he'd seen a slight blush form on the hero's face but he decided to chalk it up to the odd lighting in his room. "what seems to be the problem, cat noir?"
"well," cat noir started, "i heard...ladybug and...rena rouge, yeah that's right, talking about me, possibly maybe, and i'm just feeling insecure."
luka raised his eyebrow at the story. it didn't sound like cat noir was saying something that really happened. he noticed the way he seemed to search for his words even more than a normal person stumbling over their words would.
he let it go, "and what did they say?"
"i don't really know, they didn't say my name at all, but i just felt like their words were towards me."
"and how did you hear these words?" luka furrowed his eyebrows in deep thought.
"i, um, you're not gonna judge me right?" the hero's voice sounded small and luka wanted to reach out and physically comfort him but felt that might be too much.
"of course not."
"i was eavesdropping," cat noir seemed to move farther and farther from luka, hunching his shoulders to hide.
"maybe, they knew you were listening and tried to pull a prank on you."
"well that's just mean! i mean it would explain why you-" the hero stopped himself and frantically moved his eyes around. "i mean they-"
luka tried not to laugh, "adrien, i know it's you. you can detransform now."
"what! no! i'm not that pretty model boy, i'm just an average guy who really has to go," cat noir tried to scurry past luka but he blocked the window.
"adrien, it's okay, no one has to know that i know. but please i need to talk to you," luka reached out to grab cat noir's, who he was sure was adrien, hands. "ladybug and rena rouge are supposed to be me and jul right?"
cat noir avoided luka's eyes, "claws in," a nearly blinding neon green light filled luka's room. luka blinked away the spots in his eyes and saw his friend who he had just chased a half hour ago.
"adrien...talk to me."
"can we- can we sit?" luka nodded and moved his guitar off his bed. he patted the sheet covered mattress and sat down. adrien sat and began to fiddle with the ends of a blanket luka had.
"tell me what's going on, adrien."
"i heard you and juleka talking earlier," adrien tried to not let his emotions show but failed almost miserably.
luka knew it was about that! he kept his thoughts to himself as it didn't seem like the time. he was also confused. they never mentioned adrien by name, they didn't even allude to him. how could he have taken it so personally?
"but-"
adrien cut luka off, "wait, let me finish, or i'll never be able to say it."
luka pressed his lips in a line and urged adrien to continue.
"yesterday, i asked juleka to ask you if you liked anybody. she told me she would try her best and to come over today to hang out so she could talk with me. i got here a little too early and...heard you say no."
"what?" luka was confused.
"i was so heartbroken that i dropped the food i had brought for us all to share."
luka remembered hearing something fall outside but was too focused on the jean covered legs running away.
"i ran away so you wouldn't see me but somehow you caught up with me. i kept running because...i couldn't look you in the eye," luka could hear adrien's voice get weak with his held-back tears. "it sounds so stupid when i say it out loud."
luka grabbed adrien's free hand and searched for his eyes, "adrien, it's not stupid. i'm sorry you had to hear that," luka inhaled deeply and reached up to caress adrien's cheek, "especially because it wasn't true."
adrien's eyes widened, "i don't understand."
"adrien, please forgive me, i didn't tell juleka the truth. i do have a crush on someone," luka wiped away a stray tear that fell from adrien's eye.
"luka...what are you saying right now?" adrien's eyes seemed to bore into luka's. luka wasn't even sure if he had seen adrien blink since reciting his side of the story.
"i like you, adrien. i really like you. i'm so sorry that you thought i didn't," luka's hold on adrien's cheek never let up. adrien even reached up to keep luka's hand in place.
"really? you like...me? why?"
"why wouldn't i?" luka slightly frowned.
"i don't know. i mean, we've never really spent that much time together. i assumed you only thought of me as an acquaintance at best." adrien broke eye contact, he couldn't bring himself to look at luka anymore.
"adrien, none of that stopped you from liking me," luka stated, "so why would it stop me from liking you?"
adrien kept his eyes down.
"hm? can you answer that?"
"no, no i can't," adrien's voice went back to being small and it broke luka's heart. luka guided adrien's head up so he could look back into his eyes.
"we like each other, adrien, and neither of us can fully explain it. that's perfectly okay."
adrien's voice was full again, "we like each other."
luka tried not to let out a chuckle, "yes, that's what i just said."
"no, i mean, i didn't have to be scared. you like me as much i like you. well i probably like you a little more, i feel my feelings very aggressively," adrien started to ramble. luka had to admit, it was cute.
"i can see that," luka finally let out a small laugh.
"i'm sorry about the whole running away thing. i didn't even know i could run that fast without my miraculous-"
adrien's eyes widened and luka waited to hear what he would say.
"you know about my miraculous!" adrien whisper-yelled, he got off of the bed. he started to pace around luka's room.
"what miraculous?" luka attempted to say cooly but adrien missed the joke entirely.
"ya know, the one that transforms me into a cat man! the one that i wasn't supposed to tell anyone about! the one that gives me super fast reflexes! the one that gives me stupid cat ears- oh." luka half smiled as adrien finally got it.
"i meant what i said earlier, no one has to know that i, luka couffaine, know the identity of french hero, cat noir." luka put on a dramatic voice for the last bit, much to adrien's unamusement.
"you're not funny."
"sure i am, but i'm also one hundred percent serious. i'm not gonna tell anyone, i promise. can you sit down now?" luka extended his hand out to adrien who sighed and took hold of it.
luka pulled adrien towards him, causing adrien to yelp. adrien was pulled onto a laughing and leaned back luka.
"ow." adrien jokingly said.
luka slightly scoffed, "that didn't hurt and you know it."
"no, it didn't. i'm just dramatic."
"yeah, i know, it's very noticeable."
"you're very blunt at times, ya know that, right?" adrien shimmied into a more comfortable position, his back against the wall and his legs on top of luka's.
"and yet, you like me, so who's really the problem here?"
"both of us," they both laughed and any awkward or scared tension there was before seemed to quickly dissipate.
"ya know, the cat ears aren't that stupid. i actually kinda li-" Luka was interrupted by a hand covering his mouth.
"don't you dare finish that sentence," adrien tried to say sternly but luka knew he was all bark no bite, in the most adorable way possible.
so he licked adrien's hand. adrien dramatically screamed and wiped off his hand on luka's shoulder. luka erupted in melodic laughter, which in a way, made adrien feel like everything was gonna be all right.
(any notes or criticisms or praises that you guys have, i'd be more than glad to hear about. ofc be respectful and understanding, this is the first fanfiction that i've literally ever posted on anything so ofc it's not going to be perfect. but i really hope you liked it)
#i finally finished writing it#yay#for the small amount of people who were awaiting this#here ya go !!#lukadrien#lukadrien fic#miraculous fanworks#miraculous fic#luka couffaine#adrien agreste#cat noir#juleka couffaine#miraculous#miraculous ladybug#miraculous lb#oneshot#luka x adrien#adrien x luka
12 notes
·
View notes
Text
Young Love
Summary: After getting sent away by your father nearly two years ago, you return to your hometown, Outer Banks.
You reunite with your friends and twin brother, John B, and help them find the lost gold and the Cross of Santo Domingo. But, during it all, you find yourself falling in love with your brothers blue-eyed best friend without realising it.
Pairings: JJ Maybank x Fem!Reader
Word Count: 3.6k
Warnings: Language, gun violence, blood
Last Chapter
Chapter 20-
The genius plan that John B and JJ came up with was to go to Professor Sowell's house... the house where the dead body was... it wasn't a great plan.
You went along with the plan anyway because you couldn't think of a better one, but when you entered the house, the supposedly dead body was nowhere to be seen. Your brother swore that the body was right there on the living room floor, but it was gone.
After some intensive searching your brother found a photo of Professor Sowell from a newspaper article, in that photograph was another person, Neville. Professor Sowell's last words to John B was 'Neville' and it wasn't hard to connect the dots.
Singh and his men were taking out the people who were on Professor Sowell's exposition to South America and Neville was the last one on that list. He was the last person alive who knew where Big John would be, and you had to get to him before Singhs men did.
"Wait, so because you know a guy with the same last name as Neville, you think they're related?" You asked, jumping out the Twinkie and following the two guys towards some farming building on the outskirts of town.
"How many people do you know with the last name Persaud? I met a guy here last summer with my cousin 'cause we were doing the growing business. Yeah, yeah. Last name, Persaud." JJ explained and you rolled your eyes. "Or wait, was it Percett?"
"No, no, no. Okay, you think... JJ, we're talking about my dad's life." John B suddenly said.
"No, I know. I know Mr. Persaud. Trust me. It's cool." JJ reassured, before he turned to one of the workers and smiled. "Hey, uh, Mr. P, right?"
"Hey!" The guy greeted happily.
"What's going on, man?" JJ replied, fist bumping the guy. "Hey, so we're looking for... we're looking for Neville. Is he still here?"
"Nah, nah, nah, he's out there. Been holding up near Doe Creek. In his houseboat. Way, way back."
JJ gave you and your brother a pointed look, seeming happy with himself for getting that information and before you knew it, the three of you were trekking through the woods to the creek.
The houseboat was easy enough to spot and the three of you swam through the water to get to it. You had no idea if there were alligators in the water or not, so you tried very hard to not think about it.
You climbed up the fixed ladder at the stern of the boat, JJ holding his hand out and helping you with the last few slippery steps before you were all standing on the back deck of the houseboat.
You remained silent, creeping quietly towards the back door. This Neville guy probably knew people were trying to kill him and if he saw a bunch of strangers on his boat, he would probably shoot first and ask questions later.
"Stove's warm. He's still here." John B whispered, holding his hand above the hotplate in the kitchen before he stepped back out onto the deck where you and JJ were still standing.
"Maybe he split when he heard us coming." JJ suggested quietly, looking over the edge of the boat for any sign of him.
"Devils!" A voice suddenly shouted.
John B shoved you and JJ out the way. The two of you mere seconds away from getting your heads cut off by a machete if not for your brother.
JJ managed to keep his feet, but you fell to the ground at the unexpected push while your brother ducked out the way of the machete as Neville attacked him. JJ rushed forward, grabbing the man’s shoulder to pull him away from your brother, but copped an elbow to the face in response.
John B tackled Neville backwards just as JJ stuck out his leg, tripping them both to the ground on the kitchen floor. Neville landed on the top and was quick to pin your brother on his back and raise the machete to take him out.
"No! Neville, wait! No! We're not here to kill you, I swear!" You shouted, grabbing his arm, stopping him from swinging. "We know Professor Sowell."
Those simple words were enough to get through to him, his body freezing as he glanced over his shoulder at you.
"Who gave you that name?"
"Listen, we're friends, okay?" John B said, drawing the man’s attention away from you, but you kept your grip firm on Nevilles arm, not trusting him not to use the machete. "You were in Orinoco last year. With five other people, right?"
"How did you know that?"
"Let go of him and we'll tell you." You said, but the man didn't move.
"She said, let go!" JJ yelled, yanking the machete out the man’s grasp.
Neville released your brother instantly and got to his feet just as JJ pinned him up against the wall, the blade of the machete inches from his neck, not messing around.
"Look, we don't wanna hurt you, okay?" John B insisted, getting to his feet as Neville raised his hands, the guys all breathing heavily trying to catch their breath after the scrap fight.
After a few seconds, JJ lowered the machete and took a step back, but never took his eyes off the man while John B started to explain.
"Look we were just with Sowell yesterday. He, uh, he didn't make it."
"He's dead?"
"Yeah. I'm sorry."
Neville took a moment to process that infomation before his head dropped and he took a step away from the three of you with a heavy sigh, "I'm the last one left."
"Yeah. That's why we had to get to you before they did." You replied, glancing over at JJ and John B to make sure they weren't hurt before you turned back to Neville. "If we found you, they can too."
"I just have a few questions." John B said, taking a step towards him and unfolding a piece of cloth with a drawing on it that he had found at Sowells house. "Solana, you've been there. Yeah?"
"That is a place of evil."
"That stone piece right there." Your brother continued to say pointing at the drawing. "Me and my dad found that thingy that goes in the centre."
Nevilles eyes widened, "The gnomon."
What the fuck was a gnomon?
"Listen to me. Now, there's some bad men who have taken our father to this place, and they're gonna kill him. So, we need your help to find this place, Neville." John B explained, but Neville was already shaking his head.
"No, no, no. The curse has already done enough."
"Look-"
"Bro, shut up." You quickly said, covering your brother’s mouth with your hands as you listened intently to the sound of motor engines revving from outside.
"Hey, Neville, how much traffic do you get on this river?" JJ asked, worry starting to seep into his voice.
"Nothing."
Oh, that can't be good then.
"Neville! Neville Persaud!" A voice suddenly shouted as if on cue before gunshots erupted and the glass kitchen windows shattered.
John B grabbed your hand and yanked you to the ground out of the line of fire, JJ and Neville doing the same as you dropped to your hands and knees as glass and debris rained down on you after each shot.
"Get the anchor!" Neville ordered above the gunfire.
JJ and John B rushed out to the back deck to cut the anchor away. You crawled around the kitchen bench and grabbed one of the knives from the draw because like hell you were just going to sit on the ground defenceless.
"Neville? Neville? I know you're in there."
The voice was a lot closer now and a second later, the sound of a door opening filled the air. Your stomach dropped, realising that one of the bad guys was now inside the houseboat.
You pressed your back up against the kitchen bench, the knife clutched tightly in both hands as you took in a few deep breaths trying to calm yourself.
"Come out, let's get this over with." The man continued to say.
You peaked your head around the corner of the kitchen bench, watching as the man slowly began walking towards the back deck in the direction of where John B and JJ had gone. Shit.
Not thinking twice, you sprung to your feet and charged at the man, but he heard you coming and managed to dodge out the way just as you swung the knife at him. His reflexes were quick, quicker than yours and you didn't have enough time to move before he raised his gun and squeezed the trigger.
People tend to say that in moments like this, it all happens in slow motion, but that was a lie. It happened fast. So fast in fact that you couldn't remember parts of it. One minute you were staring down the barrel of a gun and the next minute, you were laying on the ground with JJ and John B leaning over you with the most panicked and terrified look in their eyes.
"Keep pressure on the wound!" Neville's voice shouted in the background.
"Is... is she going to be okay?" JJ stuttered, tears threatening to spill from his eyes as he stared down at you.
Your left arm was burning like it was on fire, and you looked down to find your brother pressing his bandana against your left shoulder, the material already a deep crimson red.
Shit, that wasn't good.
"The b-bad guys?" You asked, your voice rough, barely above a whisper.
"Gone. We lost them. It's okay. You're gonna be okay, you hear me? You're gonna be fine." John B insisted, his voice trembling slightly as he kept pressure on the wound.
You tried to sit up, jostling your injured arm causing pain to lash through your shoulder. You sucked in a sharp breath at the pain, white dots clouding your vision as you squeezed your eyes shut in effort to not pass out.
"Hey, hey, Y/N? Baby, you still with us? Y/N?" JJ's panicked voice questioned, his hands cupping your face as you blinked your eyes open.
"I need to get the bullet out and cauterise the wound to stop the bleeding." Neville said, kneeling down between the boys.
The man grabbed John B's hand and lifted it from your shoulder, removing the blood-soaked bandana and exposing the gunshot wound. He inspected it for a moment, his brows furrowing, not liking what he saw.
"This will hurt." Neville warned, not giving you a chance to say or do anything before he began to pour what looked to be a jar of homemade moonshine over the open wound.
You expected it to sting, but you didn't think it would be that bad.
"Son of a bitch." You hissed through gritted teeth. Yep, it was that bad.
"Jesus Christ, is that necessary? You're hurting her!" JJ all but shouted, glaring at Neville before looking back down at you worriedly.
"Yes. And this next part is going to hurt even more. I have to remove the bullet."
Neville pulled out a pair of pliers from his back pocket and your eyes widened at the sight. He wasn't going to use that to pull the bullet out, was he?
You eyed the old rusty looking pliers like it was a bomb about to explode. Neville poured the remaining moonshine over the tool, soaking and disinfecting it which made you feel a little better, but it didn't last.
"Whoa, wait, wait, wait!" John B said, grabbing the man’s arm before he could start. "Shouldn't a doctor do this? Or-or-"
"You see any doctors here, boy? You want your sister to live, or do you want her to die from blood loss?"
John B's eyes widened dramatically as he ran a shaky hand through his hair. The tears in his eyes were now silently falling down his cheeks as he stood up and began pacing the small space inside the houseboat.
"Jesus Christ." He sighed, his voice trembling as he looked down at you with terrified eyes.
"Do it." You said, putting all your effort into making your voice sound strong as you gave your brother what you hoped was a reassuring smile, but it was more of a grimace before you looked at Neville. "Just do it."
He nodded, "you, hold her down. And you, start heating up a knife over the gas stove. I need it ready to cauterise the wound once the bullet is out."
You tried to focus on anything but the pain as you watched your brother rush around the bench to the kitchen. The sound of the gas stove clicked on before the cutlery draw jiggled open.
"Bite onto this." Neville instructed, holding out his leather belt that you hadn't noticed he removed.
Gulping down your fear, you folded the belt over before clamming your teeth down around it. JJ was on his knees beside you, one hand over your chest and the other over your good shoulder, holding you steady.
"You said you've done this before, right? It's safe?" JJ asked, his teary blue eyes looking over at Neville.
"Yes. On a horse."
Oh, that was reassuring.
"On a horse?!" John B's voice shouted from somewhere out of your line of sight.
"I'm her best chance at not bleeding out. Do you want me to do this or not?"
"Fuck." JJ whispered, looking back down at you, his hands on you were trembling, tears falling as he nodded. "Do it. Save her. Please, just save her."
Neville didn't need any further encouragement as he leant down over you. You kept your eyes glued to JJ, afraid to look anywhere else as you braced yourself for the pain just as he went in with the pliers.
The pain was unlike anything you had ever felt before and you were unable to stop yourself from screaming around the belt between your teeth.
JJ was shouting, his lips were frantically moving, the tears in his eyes falling from his face faster, but you couldn't hear him above the blood rushing in your ears. The last thing you saw was JJ's panicked face before everything faded into darkness.
-
The first thing you noticed when you woke up was that you were no longer laying on the hard wooden floor of the houseboat. You were in your bed back at the shack.
How did you get back to the shack? What happened with Neville? Was he going to help you guys get to South America? What if he wasn't, what were you going to do?
You tried to sit up, but quickly stopped when pain suddenly flared through your shoulder causing you to wince and lay back down, squeezing your eyes shut.
Right, you were shot. Damnit.
The sound of your bedroom door squeaking open had your eyes opening and you tilted your head to the side to find JJ walking in. He was holding a bag of frozen peas to his jaw where he had gotten hit earlier, but he froze when he saw you awake.
The bag slipped from his fingers, hitting the ground and splitting open. Frozen peas spilt out covering the floor by his feet, but he didn't notice, or if he did, he didn't care because he was rushing across the room and dropping down on his knees beside your bed.
"Holy shit, you're awake. How do you feel? Are you okay?"
You nodded, "what happened?"
"You passed out. Neville got the bullet out... but you, uh, you lost a lot of blood, he wasn't sure if you were going to make it. But we couldn't take you to the hospital because a gunshot would raise questions and then the Police would show up and..." He rapidly explained before trailing off and lifting a shaky hand, brushing a strand of hair from your face as tears rose in his eyes. "I thought I was going to lose you."
"I'm still here." You whispered, your voice weaker than you expected as you cleared your throat and repeated. "I'm still here. You didn't lose me, okay? I'm still here."
JJ nodded, rubbing his face with his hands to get rid of the tears, but fresh ones just reappeared, and he sighed heavily at himself as he stared at you.
"I'm sorry."
"Sorry? Why are you sorry?" You asked in confusion.
"It's my fault you were in that situation to begin with. if I didn't take you and John B out there, none of this would have happened."
"JJ, that's not your fault. And this..." You said, glancing down at the bandaged wrapped around your shoulder. "Wasn't your fault either."
"It was." He whispered, silent tears falling down his face.
"Were you the asshole who shot me?"
He shook his head with a sniff.
"Then it's not your fault." You insisted, but you knew he didn't believe you. "Hey. Look at me. JJ, look at me."
He reluctantly lifted his head, his watery red eyes meeting yours as you smiled softly at him, reaching out with your good hand and brushing the tears off his cheek. He leant into your touch and closed his eyes.
"Please, for me, stop blaming yourself for things that you can't control."
JJ rested his hand over yours on his cheek and took in a deep shaky breath before he nodded ever so slightly. Opening his eyes, you were met with a sea of glistening blue, and you smiled softly at him.
"Whoa, that's a tripping hazard. The hell happened?" John B's voice suddenly question.
JJ turned around and you looked past him to find your brother cautiously stepping around the scattered peas over the floor like they were landmines. You laughed at his actions causing his head to snap up, the peas long forgotten when he noticed you were awake.
"Oh my God!"
He was by your side within a split second, his wide eyes looking you up and down like he couldn't quite believe that you were awake, let alone alive. The bandana around his neck had tried to be cleaned, but the white parts of the material were still stained a dull red, your blood not coming out.
"Hey, bro." You greeted, giving him a warm smile.
"Jesus, you scared the shit out of us." He said, leaning over and hugging you causing you to wince when you tried to hug him back, straining your injured shoulder. "Sorry. Sorry. You okay?"
"I'm fine." You reassured as he let go, looking down at you with a worried expression that matched JJs nearly identically. "Seriously, I'm fine. I mean, I could use a couple Advil or something, but I'm fine."
JJ was quick to rush off in search of any pain killers that were in the shack while your brother sat down on the edge of your bed with a deep sigh.
"I'm fine, bro." You repeated, but he shook his head, and you had a sinking feeling that you knew what he was going to say. "If you're about to tell me that this was your fault, don't. I already went over this with JJ. This isn't on either of you. Okay? It's not."
John B looked like he was going to argue, but clearly thought better of it and simply nodded as he looked down at your shoulder, "first Sarah got shot and now you... I've had enough of watching the girls I love nearly bleed out in front of me. Don't ever get shot again."
"It's not on my to-do list."
His lips twitched up into a slight smile at your words before JJ came back into the room with a couple of pills and a glass of water. You began to sit up on your bed and John B was quick to lean forward to help.
"I can sit up by myself. I got shot in the shoulder, it's not that bad." You shrugged off, taking the pills and glass of water.
"Getting shot is bad, period. Don't matter where." JJ responded causing you to roll your eyes before a thought suddenly occurred to you.
"Wait, wait, what happened with Neville? Are we going to South America?"
"He told us to find a river guide named Jose and explained where we had to go, but we still have no way of getting to South America." John B sighed, rubbing his face with his hands. "I don't know what to do."
"Well, we should find the others and update them on everything. Do they even know that Big John has been kidnapped by Singh?" You asked, both boys shaking their heads. "Okay, then we find the others and maybe one of them will know a way down to South America."
"Whoa, hold on. There is no way we're letting you come. John B and I will get the others, you need to take it easy." JJ quickly said.
"I'm not useless and I'm not just going to lay in bed for the rest of the afternoon while-"
"Yes, you are." John B said, cutting you off. "Please, you nearly died, Y/N, you should rest. Plus, we'll be fine collecting the others ourselves. What's the worst that could happen while you're not there?"
You raised your eyebrows, "do you really want me to answer that? Because you two would crash and burn without me around."
They both rolled their eyes, but didn't try and argue, knowing you were right.
"We'll be back soon. If you need anything, you call us, okay?" JJ said, pointing at your phone that you hadn't noticed was sitting on your bedside table. "Anything at all, you call."
You reluctantly nodded, "okay. I will.”
John B waved goodbye while JJ turned and gave you his signature salute which you returned, and he smiled before closing the bedroom door behind himself.
-
Next Chapter
MASTERLIST pinned on my profile
Commissions open! DM for enquiries ❤️
#jj mayback x reader#jj maybank#jj maybank fanfiction#jj maybank fanfic#obx#outer banks#outer banks fanfiction#rudy pankow#john b routledge
46 notes
·
View notes
Text
Nino Does the Math
Summary: Nino does his best to account for all the miraculous in the wake of [season 5 finale events]. He comes to a startling conclusion about his best friend. (Contains spoilers for Season 5 of Miraculous Ladybug, up to the finale Re-creation.)
Word Count: 2k
Rating: G
Nino was the first person to figure it out.
Of course not everyone was going to be able to keep their identities secret. Friends trusted each other, and partners had a hard time keeping secrets from each other. There was a reason he and Alya had known about each other for as long as they had. That, and Nino liked to be aware of all the players on the field.
As far as Nino could piece together, Juleka and Rose had told each other right away. Mylène and Ivan had told each other fairly quickly as well, though Nino thought that was more by accident than intention. He assumed Marc and Nathaniel had told each other at some point, but he couldn’t say when or how. And of course everything had only unraveled from there.
No one had explicitly told Nino who they were. But he figured that once Rose and Juleka knew about each other, Mylène, Alix, and Alya had been looped in shortly after, because that first week after Hawk Moth's defeat, he may have glimpsed a group text on Rose's phone with emojis identifying everyone’s superhero identities. At least, he guessed what the fox next to Alya’s name meant, and he could extrapolate the pig, tiger, mouse, and bunny icons from there.
Nino wasn’t great with secrets, but he’d never be so brazen as to put emojis next to people’s names. Alya being nicknamed “rusée sexy” in his phone was entirely unrelated to her heroic identity.
He’d found out about Ivan and Luka after a practice with Kitty Section. Adrien stayed late after practice more often than not these days, and so they spent more time sitting on the deck of the houseboat just hanging out. Rose and Juleka had left the guys to have some of their own time when Ivan had said, “Oh, Mylène just texted about an akuma attack at the park. I’d better go.”
Luka had quirked an eyebrow. “To… help her, right? Make sure she’s not hurt.”
Because the park was not near the Seine. They were probably safe where they were.
But Ivan said, “Yeah, and if the akuma did hurt her, they’re going to regret it. They can just try to get through me and my invincible shield.”
So Ivan was Minataurox. And that might have been all Nino had learned that day, even as all four of them stood and scattered off of the deck of the ship if he had not heard Luka mutter from below deck, “I swear, Sass, we need to be on all the time if we’re going to keep them from telling everyone everything.”
So Luka was Viperion.
Then Kim had told Max and Nino one day while they were studying in the library. Nino didn’t think Kim had meant to tell them. Kim had just said, “I’m so tired of math. I wish there would be an akuma attack so I could get out of here.” And it would have been easy to write it off as school being canceled to protect students from the akuma if Kim hadn’t added, “Fighting bad guys is way more fun than doing math.”
Max had, unhelpfully put in, “Based on the frequency of akuma attacks since Hawk Moth’s defeat, there’s only a 17% chance of an akuma attack before lunch. But there’s a 78% chance of an attack after school, which I do always appreciate.” And that comment, too, could have been written off like Max was grateful their school days were not interrupted so often, if he hadn’t added, “It gets to be so challenging balancing school work and fights with akumas.”
Nino had said nothing. Well, he’d meant to say nothing. Instead, he’d said, “At least we get to spend more time with our friends.”
It wasn’t a confession. And, in his defense, he wasn’t entirely sure who Max and Kim were when they put on their masks. He just knew they were some of Paris’s heroes.
Then, that same day, as he’d passed the art room in search of Alya and Marinette, he’d been surprised to see Sabrina hanging around Marc and Nathaniel. After her fall out with Chloé, she had some trouble finding a new friend to follow around. But as Nino stood in the doorway of the art room and thought about it, Marc and Nathaniel, who were artists before they were producers, probably appreciated having Sabrina to manage the menial tasks of producing a comic, and Sabrina was someone who liked to feel useful.
“I just don’t know how useful I am,” Sabrina was saying, “certainly not compared to you two, who can do just about anything you want.”
“I can’t make magic happen,” Nathaniel shrugged. “I just draw.”
“And I just have to use my imagination,” Marc added.
And it could have been about anything. It didn’t have to be about miraculous powers. But then Nathaniel had said, “You mean use your imagination to have any power in the world you could possibly want.”
And Marc had said, “And you mean draw anything into existence—Hey, Sabrina, don’t feel down about yourself. Isn’t your power the one that was used to steal all the Miraculous from Ladybug? She probably really trusts you if she’s given you something like that.”
Nino ran the numbers. Math wasn’t his favorite thing, but he had a knack for investigation. Though he wasn’t 100% sure about Pegasus and King Monkey, he could make a guess based on what he knew about Max and Kim. And of course Argos was Félix; everyone knew that. That left Vesperia and Ryuko, and of course Chat Noir and Ladybug. That also left Chloé, Lila, Marinette, and Adrien as the only students left in Mme Bustier’s class without miraculous.
Chloé had had her chance and ruined it. Lila was never going to get one of those chances, and Nino was grateful for that. And he only knew Marinette had gotten a chance because on patrol one night, he had overheard Chat Noir say to Ladybug, “Hey, are you not planning to give Marinette the Mouse again?”
And Ladybug had stammered something like, “Of course—I mean, why wouldn’t I—You’re the only one who knows, I suppose—so…”
Not that Nino had seen Multimouse in any fights since that conversation, but Marinette was busy and scatterbrained, so maybe she always found out about the akuma attacks too late to help.
Every student—every student who mattered—in Mme Bustier’s class was a hero. Every single one except Adrien.
Nino felt like he should say something, but he wasn't sure how to bring it up.
They often studied at Nino’s place. Adrien had more space and more games, but Adrien insisted on going to Nino’s. Nino didn’t blame him. Adrien had spent a year cooped up in his giant mansion; it was no wonder he wanted out as often as possible.
And one day, as silence stretched out between him and Adrien, Nino thought there might never be a better time to bring it up. He still hesitated, unsure where to start, unsure how it might make Adrien feel. Maybe it was best that it stay a secret.
“Hey, man…” And maybe there was something in the tone of Nino’s voice, or something on his face, but Adrien actually set aside his book and looked up from Nino’s desk.
“What is it?” Adrien asked.
Nino’s leg bounced against his mattress and he tapped his pen against his reading assignment. “Nothing… never mind…”
Adrien hesitated, but when Nino said nothing more, he opened his textbook up again.
After another minute, Nino couldn’t help himself. “Hey—remember when I told you I was Carapace?”
Adrien didn’t look up from his book this time, but the corner of his mouth seemed to tighten. “And that Alya was Rena Rouge? And Alya knows who Ladybug is?”
Nino winced. “Yeah…”
“What about it?”
“Er—Nothing…” Nino wasn’t sure how to parse Adrien’s tone. He sounded a little bitter or even annoyed. Was it possible Adrien already knew he was the only student who hadn’t been given a miraculous?
Adrien turned the page in his book, but it was slow and careful, more like he was trying to appear engaged with his homework than actually doing it. “Is this the thing Ladybug’s been trying to tell me about all month?”
“What?” Nino asked.
“Ladybug. She keeps finding me and starts to say something, but changes her mind.”
“Oh…” Nino frowned. He wondered if there was a miraculous he hadn’t accounted for. Maybe Ladybug had more than he was aware of. “Maybe.”
Adrien looked up from his book and quirked an eyebrow.
“I mean,” Nino searched for the right words. “Do you… want to be a super hero?”
The hard look on Adrien’s face gave way to a grin. “What, do you think I’m jealous of Carapace?”
Nino shrugged. “There’s a lot of new heroes out. I thought maybe… you might want to be one of them. I mean, you’re not, right? You’d tell me if you were.”
“Yeah, of course,” Adrien said, and buried his face in his homework once more.
There was another stretch of silence between them. Adrien didn’t turn a page in his book once. Nino watched him carefully.
“Do you think that’s what Ladybug wants to talk to you about? She’s trying to give you a miraculous?”
“Maybe.” Adrien’s fingers tapped against the cover of his book. “It didn’t go so well for her the last two times she’s tried to give me a miraculous, though. Maybe that’s why she’s nervous about it.”
“Two times?”
“Oh… She tried to give me the snake miraculous once.”
“And you never told me? Dude!”
Adrien laughed, but it was high-pitched, nervous. “I didn’t really think you’d want to hear about 25,000 times I failed Ladybug.”
“Oh, man, I’m sorry.” Nino got to his feet and kicked aside a pair of jeans so he’d have a clear path to Adrien. He leaned against his desk. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Adrien shook his head. “It’s fine, Nino.”
“It’s not fine! Everyone in our class has a miraculous except you, and that’s not fine. I’ll say something about it to Ladybug.”
And this time, when Adrien laughed, it sounded genuine. It was one of those rare Adrien laughs, raw and unpracticed. There was always a small pause before it forced its way out of his chest, loud and unfettered, and it made Nino’s heart sing every time.
“You don’t have to do that,” Adrien said.
“Are you sure?” Nino asked. “I bet Rena would back me up.”
“I’m sure.” And Adrien’s smile looked real. It was one of his soft ones, that crinkled the corners of his eyes only slightly. His practiced modeling smile was ironically more visible in the shape of his eyes, the perfected picture of happiness. But his real smiles were a little sad, and sometimes Nino wondered if they would always be that way.
“Nino?” Adrien lifted his eyebrows, but the small smile didn’t budge. “You’re staring. Do I have something—”
“No—No—” Nino ran his hand over his face and looked around his messy room. He didn’t know how to say, “Do you think you’ll ever get over your mom and dad being dead long enough to actually be happy?” He didn’t think there was any way to say that. So instead he asked, “Do you want to get out of here? Hunt down some ice cream or a movie?”
Adrien hesitated. He counted up the pages left in tonight’s reading. “You don’t have patrol with Ladybug tonight?”
“If Ladybug refuses to give you a miraculous, she’ll just have to accept that Carapace has to split his time between her and his best friend.”
Adrien hid another smile behind his hand, but Nino saw it wrinkle the corners of his eyes rather playfully, even as Adrien looked back down at his book.
“Yeah, okay, ice cream sounds great.”
Nino grabbed his wallet and scrounged through his laundry for his cap. He had just had it when he and Adrien got home, so what had he done with it?
Adrien put his books into his bag slowly and carefully, like he was stalling while Nino’s search transitioned to a frenzy. As Nino finally found the red cap peeking out from beneath his bed sheets—how had it gotten so thoroughly buried while he was doing his homework—Adrien cleared his throat.
“Um—Nino?”
“Yeah, man?” Nino adjusted his cap and double-checked his reflection in the mirror.
“It… means a lot that you said something.”
“Oh, for sure, man, any time.” Nino lifted his fist to Adrien and, with a smile that wasn’t quite sad or bitter, but was something else, something Nino couldn’t quite name, Adrien knocked his fist against Nino’s.
“But I am going to say something to Ladybug,” Nino said as he opened the door for Adrien. “Really, I am.”
“Please don’t,” Adrien laughed.
“I will. How can she put you into the same category as Lila and Chloé? It’s just rude is what it is.” Nino closed the door behind them, but he didn’t stop his tirade. He meant it. His best friend deserved to be a hero like the rest of them, perhaps more than the rest of them. And, even more important than that, the more Nino talked, the happier Adrien’s smile seemed to be.
#ml fic#adrien agreste#nino lahiffe#adrien and nino#ml s5 spoilers#ml s5 finale spoilers#ml s5#miraculous ladybug#miraculous ladybug fanfic
23 notes
·
View notes
Text
Traveling 3,000 miles to meet the Messiah
The year was 1970, and the post-Woodstock hippie movement swept America. Searching for meaning in his life, a young hippie named Mitch Glaser, along with a friend, dropped out of college in Connecticut and hitchhiked across the country to San Francisco.
Their journey was about more than just a change of venue. Mitch, only 17 years old at the time, sought answers he wasn’t finding in his Jewish roots.
Growing up in a traditional Jewish home in New York City, he regularly attended synagogue and observed traditional holidays like Yom Kippur and Passover. Mitch was proud of his heritage, but something was missing.
He was entrenched in religion, but never felt connected to God. Questions surfaced like, “What is the meaning of life?” So the scraggly bearded youth headed west, bringing only what he could carry on his back, in hopes of finding answers.
In California, Mitch and a few other friends built a houseboat, living for free by “borrowing” utilities from their neighbors, and delved into the hippie lifestyle. Meanwhile, Mitch still strongly identified himself as a Jew. Today, about 5 million Jews live in the United States. Less than 20 percent regularly attend synagogue.
Eventually, a building inspector condemned the houseboat. Shortly after, a Jewish friend named Joan visited. After spending time with some Christians, Joan had come to believe that Jesus is the Messiah, and couldn’t wait to share her discovery.
“She preached heavily to us about the end times,” Mitch says. “I thought she was absolutely nuts.”
It was as if Joan were turning her back on her roots.
“I said, ‘Of course I’m not a Christian. I’m Jewish,’” he remembers.
As a Jew, Mitch’s attitudes toward Christianity were largely shaped by his grandparents’ history in Europe. To them, Christianity was a foreign and hostile religion responsible for horrific events like the Holocaust and the Crusades.
“I was raised to believe Jesus was not only not Jewish, but anti-Jewish,” he said.
Yet Mitch’s friends were drawn by Joan’s personal experience. She made Jesus sound hip – after all, He was a revolutionary. So they decided to visit her Christian friends in Oregon to hear more. Mitch tagged along suspiciously.
“Mitch probably thought we were involved in something dangerous,” Joan remembers.
That night at dinner with the group of Christians, Mitch had an encounter with God. While the owner of the house prayed, Mitch sat with his eyes open. It was strange to him; the man talked out loud to God, as if he knew Him. Mitch could sense a strong presence in the room. He knew it was God.
From then on, Mitch was determined to know this God. So he began reading the Old Testament, something few Jews do outside of the synagogue. He yearned to connect with God like Abraham and Moses did.
At one point, Mitch approached some young, ultra-Orthodox rabbis for help. The spiritual leaders disdained his questions.
“I tried giving traditional Judaism a chance to talk me out of accepting Jesus,” he says. “Instead, by cutting me off, it made me think they were trying to hide something.”
A little while later, Mitch took a job as a counselor at an ecology camp in the Redwood Forest. As he approached a phone booth one night, the moon illuminated something on the ledge where a phone book should have been. It was a copy of the New Testament, which Mitch began reading regularly.
Through his reading he discovered that Jesus was actually Jewish. He celebrated Passover. He fit the descriptions in the Old Testament prophecies. And although Christ’s claims were beginning to make sense to Mitch, believing in Jesus felt like an act of betrayal of his heritage and family. While hiking in the forest one evening, Mitch wrestled with God.
“You don’t understand,” Mitch prayed. “You don’t have a Jewish mother.”
But Jesus did have a Jewish mother, he realized. God understood, and could help him in his new faith. From then on, Mitch’s beliefs solidified. Today he serves as president for Chosen People Ministries, an international Christian outreach to Jewish people.
Jews doubt that Jesus was the Messiah because He wasn’t a military leader, like their tradition expected. Yet Scripture is clear. More than 300 Old Testament references prophesying details about the Messiah were all fulfilled by Jesus.
For a Jewish person to develop faith in Jesus, they need to see Christ as the completion of their roots, says Mitch, not a step away from those roots. Believing in Jesus doesn’t mean you stop being Jewish. In fact, it completes the tradition.
“The irony is that people say you cannot believe in Jesus and be Jewish,” says Joan, who moved to Israel 21 years ago to reconnect with her Jewish heritage. “We have found pertinence to Jewish festivals that we never found before.”
Jews who believe Jesus is the Messiah are called Messianic Jews, or Jewish believers. But terminology can sometimes mislead. “I don’t like labels,” says Joan. “But know two things about me: I am a Jew, and I believe in Yeshua as the Messiah of Israel.”
It was enough for a searching hippie to understand 30 years ago. He found meaning in the Messiah and still serves Him today.
15 notes
·
View notes
Text
Pac-Man Fever: Part One
Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader
Word Count: ~2.5k
Warnings: canon angst and violence
Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Supernatural. All credit goes to their respective owners. Any and all comments on these are appreciated.
You're picking out Joanna's outfit to wear when she throws her shirt on the ground in protest.
"Baby, you're not going out there without a shirt on."
"I don't wanna wear that one."
"Okay, which one do you want to wear?"
Joanna rushes to her closet and yanks on the bottom of a bright pink unicorn shirt that won't match her bright yellow pants she picked out. At this point, you don't care what she wears as long as she wears it.
"Okay, go put your pants on."
You grab the shirt while she runs back to her bed where her pants are. She struggles to put them on, but she manages just fine. There is no zipper or button, just an elastic band that fits around her waist. You grab her to help her with her shirt, but she wiggles away from you.
"Jo, let me help you put this on."
"No!" she giggles and grabs the shirt away from you.
She runs out of the room in search of her dad. With a shake of your head, you go to Maryann's room which is across the hall from Joanna's. Maryann is cooing from inside her crib, and she smiles when she sees you. She lifts her arms as if she wants to be held by you.
"Come here, my angel."
You pick her up and kiss her nose, leaving her room without looking at Robert's door. You take her to the library where you see Dean on his laptop. He has cameras up that you hacked into so he can try and find Kevin. No word has popped up regarding him, and you don't want to call his mother because she may not even know he is missing.
Joanna comes running around the corner without a shirt on, holding her shirt in her hand.
"Daddy, I need help."
Dean smiles when he sees her, and he grabs the shirt from her hands.
"Pink and yellow, huh? Was this Jo's decision?" Dean asks you.
"All her. She doesn't want my help."
"Come here, sweetheart." Dean pulls her close and helps her into her shirt, ruffling her hair when he's done. "All better."
"Thank you," she says and runs off.
"Here is child number two."
Dean takes Maryann from your arms, smiling at her in a way a dad does. Maryann giggles and reaches out for Dean, but her tiny arms can't quite reach his face. He pulls her in close and gives her a raspberry on her clothed stomach, and she laughs loudly. Joanna looks over at her dad giving her sister some love that she becomes jealous.
"My turn!" she says and tries to climb onto her dad's lap.
Dean helps her all the way so that both of his girls are lying in his arms.
"My girls," he says lovingly.
Seeing this tugs on your heart strings, but the moment doesn't last for long. Sam stumbles in seconds later looking like a complete mess. His hair is frizzy, his eyes are red, his skin is pale, and he looks sick.
"Man, I'm telling you, give me five minutes with some clippers," Dean half-jokes.
"Shut up. What time did I lay down?"
"Noon... yesterday," you say.
Sam walks to the chair, but he stumbles slightly. He catches himself on the back of the chair, but you and Dean both see it.
"Are you okay?"
"Yeah, I'm fine. I'm gonna get dressed. We should go find Kevin."
He turns to leave but stumbles again, and you catch him this time so he doesn't fall.
"Hey, take it easy, Sleeping Beauty. I've hacked into every security camera around Garth's houseboat, Kevin's hometown, and where Mrs Tran lived. Nothing has come up, but Garth is out looking for him, we put out a hunter APB on him, and we will do what we can from here while you get better," you say.
"I'm fine. Y/N, I can still go out there and hunt."
"Bullshit."
"Bet," he slurs a bit.
You look at Dean and shrug. If he wants to hunt, then he has to prove to you that he can. You and Dean take him to the shooting range. You have both kids this time, and you made Joanna wear one of those headphones so the gun doesn't hurt her ears. Your magic protects Maryann, so you're all set to go.
"This is stupid," Sam scoffs.
Dean takes his gun and shoots at the target, hitting the outline in the chest both times.
"If you hit that target, we'll talk about getting you back out there."
"No problem."
Sam takes the gun from Dean and points it at the target with one hand, but he isn't confident when his hand starts shaking. He uses two hands to keep the gun steady, but when he fires, he misses the target by a mile. Not only does he not hit the target, but he doesn't even hit the board the target is on. He hits the wall, and bits of concrete chip off and fall to the ground.
"Look, man, this second trial hit you a lot harder than that first one. I don't know whether it was just more intense or what, but we can't ignore this."
"It felt the same... until the next day."
"Sam, we're going to stay here and keep an eye on you until you get better. Don't make me use my mom voice," you say.
You three head back to the library to check on the cameras when you see a new email in your inbox.
"Hey, we got an email from Charlie." You sit down and click on it, reading it out loud. "In the neighborhood, found you guys a case."
"Found us a case in the neighborhood? How the hell does she know where we are?"
"She doesn't. Not exactly, at least. She says she tracked our cells to a twenty mile radius, then the signal went out. This place must be in something like the Bermuda Triangle."
"Are you saying we can make and receive phone calls from here and nobody can track us? Man, I love this place," Dean chuckles.
You take out your phone and quickly text Charlie where you are, and all three of you go outside while you wait for her to come so she doesn't get lost. You've spent all your time inside the bunker that you didn't really appreciate the beauty of the outside.
There is forest on either side of the Bunker, but it's a big open space that should be used for something. A playground? A backyard? Something that you can offer your kids anytime they want to play outside. The thought crosses your mind, but you store it away for another day.
Moments later, Charlie pulls up in her beaten car.
"Your Highness!" Dean grins.
"What's up, bitches?" Charlie hugs Dean first and then Sam, and when she moves to you, she notices Maryann in your arms. "Who is this?"
"This is Maryann. I was pregnant the last time I saw you," you chuckle and grab Maryann's hand to wave at her.
"I thought there were two of them."
"There was," you nod. "He didn't make it."
"I'm so sorry," she frowns, but you don't want to talk about it.
"What're you doing in Kansas?" Dean asks, pulling Charlie away from that subject.
"A comic convention in Topeka," she says slowly as if she's trying to think of an answer on the spot.
As if she's not really in town for that.
"In the middle of the week?" you ask.
"A girl's gotta get her collectibles. So, are you gonna invite me into your dungeon, or do I gotta answer your 'questions three' first?"
"Allow us to introduce you to the Men of Letters."
Sam leads the group back inside, and Zeus comes running up to her legs. He's been weary of new visitors since Maryann came home. It's why you haven't been taking him anywhere. He will bark and bite at everyone who gets near her, but he seems to like Charlie. He sniffs around her before licking her hand when she goes to pet him.
"Holy awesome. Too bad they got wiped out, though that is what they get for the sexist name."
"What's going on with you? Anything new?" you ask.
"I made a deal with the weirdos of yesteryear, and we're gonna team up to stomp the Shadow Orcs. You guys are still coming to the mid-year jubilee, right?"
"Wouldn't miss it," Dean smiles.
"So, what's this about a case you found?"
"When I was in Topeka, I saw this pop up over the wire. Tom Blake, a checkout clerk in Salina, went missing on his way home from work. He was found dead yesterday, his insides liquefied. Locals have no idea what happened, and they tried to bury the report so people wouldn't freak, but I flagged it. I have eliminated the following things that go bump in the night--"
"Wait a second. When did you become such an expert?" Sam asks.
"After you guys left, I dug into all things monsters. I'm a wee bit obsessive. If 'wee bit' means completely. I also found this series of books by Carver Edlund?" You roll your eyes and exchange looks with Sam and Dean. "Did those books really happen?"
"Yeah."
"Wow. That is some meta madness." She turns to Dean. "Thanks for saving the world and stuff." She turns to Sam. "Sorry you have zero luck with the ladies." Finally, she turns to you. "Sorry you had to come to your powers the way you did."
"We need to find every single copy of those books and burn them," Sam determines.
"They're online now, so good luck with that."
"Awesome," Dean scoffs. "Y/N and I will go see if there's anything to this case of yours while you and Sam stay here."
"I'm coming with you."
Sam stands up, but he staggers and nearly falls over. Charlie jumps from her seat and grabs his arm.
"Whoa, are you sure you're okay?" she asks.
"Yes."
"Sam, you're not coming with us. I'll tie you down if I have to," you say.
"I'll go with you two," Charlie offers.
"No disrespect, okay, but there's a big difference between reading about hunting and actually hunting."
"I'm coming with," Charlie says with more determination.
"Give her the test," you shrug.
You and Dean take her down to the shooting range while Sam watches the kids upstairs. Dean loads his gun and checks it before handing it to Charlie.
"Are you serious?"
"Okay, now, if you can hit that target then we can talk about you actually—"
Charlie grabs the gun and fires twice, both perfect headshots. She did that without effort, so you can only imagine what she can do with effort. Dean stares at the target and then at her, his expression unreadable.
"What?"
"I say let her come with," you shrug.
"Alright, if you're gonna do a ride along, then you gotta lose the novelty t-shirts."
"Son of a pantsuit," she rolls her eyes.
"It's not as bad as you think. Come on."
Dean and Charlie get the car ready while you make sure your kids are going to be okay. Dean and Charlie have already said their goodbyes, and you make sure you say yours as well. The fridge is stocked with food, Maryann has more than enough formula, there are about two dozen bags of your breast milk in the freezer.
Sam should have no problem with taking care of your children.
"I'm coming with," Sam says as he walks into the kitchen.
"No, you're not. You're going to stay here and watch the kids. Or maybe the kids will watch you. Either way, you're not leaving. If I find you so much as leave this Bunker with or without my kids, I'm breaking both your legs, and then you'll really be out of the game."
Sam opens his mouth to argue, but you don't let him.
"I'm not going to argue Sam. Take care of my kids, or I take you out. It's that simple."
With that, you grab your bag and leave the Bunker to where Dean and Charlie are waiting. Charlie can't come with you and wear what she normally wears, so you have to make a quick stop at the mall and get her something more appropriate.
She's kind of excited to be trying on things she hopes are appropriate for the occasion. To keep Dean calm while he makes her fake FBI badge, you go with her to pick out some things for her.
"What happened to Robert?" she asks suddenly while you're hanging the clothes in the dressing room. You pause, not expecting her to ask about that. "I'm sorry if you don't want to talk about it."
"I fell and hit my stomach and my head on the corner of the laundry machine. I woke up to find out my son was dead."
"I'm sorry," she whispers.
"Try these on. I'll be out there." You leave her alone in the dressing room and join Dean on the couch. "She should be good to go."
"She ask about Robert?"
"Just get that done, okay?" you sigh.
The first outfit she comes out in is a black and white dress that goes to her knees and is a little too tight on her. The fit doesn't feel right to her, so she moves onto the next. The next outfit is a white shirt, bright blue pants, and a yellow jacket. It's very Charlie, but Dean doesn't like it.
The third outside is a black and white polka dot shirt with a zebra striped skirt. You actually think she rocks this outfit, but again, Dean doesn't approve. The fourth outfit is a cheetah print outside that she picked out. The fifth outfit is a bright red romper that doesn't seem to suit her, style-wise. The sixth and final outfit is the one you picked out. It's a boring pantsuit with a light blue shirt and a blue blazer.
Dean likes this one, but you think she should keep some of the other outfits. By the time she is done playing dress up, Dean is done with her badge.
"Hey, you should keep the polka dot and zebra outfit. It seemed to suit you."
"Look, I'm sorry for bringing up Robert," she sighs.
"I'm sorry for snapping at you. I guess I'm just not over it."
"You shouldn't be. He was your child. If you need anything, even a girls night out, I'm here for you."
"Thanks," you smile and give her a hug. You two come out of the dressing room while Dean cleans up his mess and packs his things. "So, you want a rundown of what's been happening with us?"
"Obviously." You give her a quick run down without going too much into all the details. "Trials? That's never good."
"Yeah, and our prophet's in the wind."
"What about Castiel? He seems helpful, and dreamy," Charlie smirks.
"He is dreamy," you chuckle.
"Excuse me?"
"What? He has ocean blue eyes," you wink at him.
"He's MIA with a tablet of his own, doing God knows what. I mean, to be honest this whole thing is... I mean, Sam's a tough son of a bitch, but Cas is saying that these trials are messing with him in ways that even he can't heal."
"If it's any consolation, having read your history, there is pretty much nothing the Winchesters can't do if they work together. Witch included. It must be nice having a brother and a spouse, someone to always watch your back."
"You don't have any brothers or sisters?" you ask.
"Actually I have two. Their names are XBOX and PS3."
Dean takes out his phone, but he seems frustrated with it.
"I'm not getting any reception. Can I use your phone?"
"Sure."
Charlie tosses Dean her phone, and he calls Sam to check on him.
"Yeah?"
"Are you doing okay?"
"Yes, Dean. I'm still fine. Look, I can hunt, I—"
"Remember, Sam, broken legs. Love you. Bye." You hang up the phone for him and hand Charlie her phone back. "I could have used my phone for that."
"Great, now that we're all settled, let's get going. There's a body waiting for us to examine."
x
Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)
#dean winchester#dean winchester fanfiction#dean winchester x reader#supernatural#supernatural fanfiction#series rewrite#supernatural series rewrite#dean winchester fic#dean winchester fanfic#supernatural fic#supernatural fiction#supernatural fan fiction#supernatural fanfic#spn#spn fic#spn fiction
14 notes
·
View notes
Text
Part 10 - Bounce
The Xerox Alto was a piece of shit. A revolutionary piece of shit, but just the same, with its vertical screen and crackling boot-beeps and grey-gone-beige-gone-yellow patina, it looked pathetic in ways that Dani found a little adorable. Thrift store adorable, flea mall adorable. Scoop the guts out and make it a fishtank, that kind of thing.
Craig thought it was the most important device he owned. He navigated the primitive interface as if visiting an old friend, so familiar with their life and their home that he could pick out the bathroom without asking. He cracked his hairy knuckles and pushed his bifocals up tight against his face, then flashed Dani the grin of a much younger, much less responsible man.
“You know how long she’s -snif- been waiting for a reason to come out of retirement?”
Dani gave Craig a sympathetic shrug, hands in her apron pockets. She still hadn’t undressed from work- today, with Seebs and Vinny safely stowed on the houseboat with a rerun of M.A.S.H. to keep them at peace- she had sped away from Turtlebees’ and wiped enough burger wrappers and empty paycheck envelopes out of the passenger seat to make room for Craig.
They were leaving Fish Camp for a while, braving the winding roads around Yosemite in search of a place somehow more remote than their humble town with its population of forty-three.
They drove with the sun at their back, illuminating the craggy, layered face of Iron Mountain as they bore east toward a site that Craig insisted would be necessary.
“Roosevelt got his picture taken there, y’know,” he said, helping himself to a bag of chips from the back seat. “You could try having fun with this, Dani. Take a few snapshots when we get there, huh?”
Dani leaned over the wheel and squinted at the road. Work hadn’t been going well lately- the fatigue was starting to set in. Turtlebees’ was supposed to be a cover gig, not a full-time responsibility she was meant to care about. She was tired of being Gina Lincoln, especially after having to firmly turn down Redd Lake and watch all his good will dry up when he realized he wasn’t getting laid. It kept her dreading work, and she already didn't really want to be there. –But turning him down had made the distance she needed to keep him alive. One push in the wrong place and the poor bastard would have been fit for the ashtray.
“Craig, what if we find out there’s no getting a grip on this?”
“Huh?”
“You said yourself, it’s not like we can expect to find something good at the center of whatever’s happening to me. What if we can’t find a way to put a cork in it?”
She flit her cigarette against the little cup she bought at the general store. No tossing butts in Yosemite. That would be a little much. Craig was quiet for a few, crunching chips and flipping over the Steely Dan tape they were playing before replying.
Drink Kirschwasser from a shell,
“Dani, I’m not gonna turn you in,”
San Francisco show and tell,
“I mean, hell, the idea of getting in front of cops after the life I’ve lead… I’d just as soon take my ass back to Peru. I’ve thought about it, too,”
Well I should know by now, that it’s just a spasm,
“But you should know, I’m about as qualified as it gets on this kind of shit. The intersection of planar, scalar, esoteric, geometric, signal and sympathetic, nobody put those concepts through the wringer like we did. Like I did,”
Like a Sunday in T.J., that it’s cheap but it’s not free,
“And I can do it again. When we get there, I’ll use the Alto to show you sides of yourself you can’t even perceive. It’s like living without mirrors, you know? How the fuck’ll you know what to do with your hair if you can’t see it?”
That I’m not what I used to be…
In the shadow of Globe Rock, Dani popped the hood of the Taurus and Craig lashed together a handful of junky converters until the Alto and the battery could have a conversation. The old, discolored machine creaked to life, and Craig hitched a number of homemade devices to it- a telescopic six-foot aerial, some sort of clamp made out of brass or gold covered in carved gargoyles fit to the edge of the keyboard, a gyroscope of some sort that bolted to the side of the screen and housed a pale blue gem- aquamarine, Dani guessed.
“Whew- okay. We’re going somewhere dark, but be gentle with yourself, alright? I already told you I’m no shrink, so if you go spiraling, well… the best I’ll be able to do is a ride home and a cold beer.” He squatted over the keyboard, the whole assembly perched on the flattest and nearest stump, and began opening programs authored by himself and his comrades half a century ago.
“Close your eyes and… do what you gotta do. Aerial is reporting one, two, three pings- you’ll be the fourth, and we can quadrangulate from there.” He flicked the gyroscope with his thumb, then closed his hand over the strange gold fixture on the keyboard and shut his eyes. “Latency’s pretty high. Once we get the linkage we need, just one or two baud should do us, but until we get it, it’ll be slow going.”
Dani nodded her way through Craig’s advice, but she wasn’t listening. She stared up at Globe Rock- ancient, ominous, and just as sure about this as she was. Her hands trembled as she raised them to the smooth, round surface and exhaled. Four seconds in, four seconds out- no fire yet. Good.
She closed her eyes tight enough that she couldn’t see the orange glow of sunset, and let herself drift backward into her own mind.
She saw Redd, and Sean, and Mike. She saw her mother, and saw Gina- the real Gina, from the lotto counter at Wilson Titlee.
That fucking store. Everything had started to fade, but suddenly she was right there again, gritting her teeth across the desk in the HR office, remembering how even as she questioned and quipped, her mind was reeling with actual problems the company might solve instead of stupid bullshit like this.
They pushed and pushed and pushed- Dani do this, Dani lift that, Dani can you pick up some overtime? Dani we’ve got a walk tomorrow, think you can stay long enough to finish this project?
They had ASKED for the very same labor she was being punished for! All she did was agree!
Mike… god, dude, you didn’t deserve it. If you had just waited long enough for them to call you, say you weren’t getting me back for a few days… none of this would’ve happened. If they hadn’t called me in for the suspension, none of this would’ve happened. And if that hadn’t happened, young skinheads everywhere wouldn’t have lost their stupid online role model. But she wasn’t supposed to live that kind of life! She was fine just punching clock, moving furniture, and going home to watch old movies with Seebs.
Wait, no I’m not. No, that fucking sucks too! I wasn’t content, I was too tired to move!
She was suddenly engulfed in a vicious eruption of fire- a ten foot pillar of flame reached into the evening sky past Globe Rock, then settled until it wicked from her shoulders and rolled down her back like a mane. Somewhere outside the angry depths of her psyche, Craig barked a triumphant little laugh under his bristly white mustache and clacked at the keyboard.
You don’t watch shit like Cleopatra Wong unless you’re numb to every other kind of stimulation in the world. I was dead. They killed me. Wilson Titlee fucking killed me!
The cloak of flame flared again, and this time when it settled, it clung to Dani like a bright, destructive aura. It was wild, burning the edges of her flapping apron, but she somehow willed it not to climb. That’s when she heard the second ping- and the clicking again- the device measuring “Zeners” was protruding from Craig’s back pocket, and it was hissing and popping like fryer oil.
She didn’t realize she had moved, or that she was looking at him. Her vision was wreathed in orange and gray, smoke pouring from her with every step. She hated that it didn’t smell bad.
“Redlining again. Christ over rice, redlining again. Sixty zeen, maybe more, no way of telling since the gauge doesn’t go that high,” Craig was muttering. He gripped his belt and hitched his pants a bit, then retrieved the multi-dimensional Geiger counter from his pocket and shut it off.
“Yeah, yeah. We know now. Big zeens. Strong reading, at least. Gremlins were getting hot, almost lost my grip. –Dani, are you alright? Our upload’s going- if you can just maintain this for a few, it'll complete its route and bounce back. Need a consistent data stream until then.”
Every muscle in her body was painfully tense, and her skin was taut and ached, sunburnt under her own corona of flame. She crouched to get level with Craig and saw herself- a silhouette at the center of a bonfire- reflected in his bifocals.
He wasn’t afraid, and that was something. She felt so strange- sick, sick with anger, like the only way to quench this feeling of ultimate violence in her heart was to take hold and vomit her white-hot agony into the first thing that moved. But that was just it- he wasn’t moving. Didn’t even flinch. Didn’t even -snif-.
“When we get the bounceback, grab that artifact we generated. The weird little nametag.”
“Ain’t that… s’posed to hurt me?” Dani’s breathing was labored, and tongues of flame curled up between her teeth, graying them all over again.
“It’s dangerous. But like we talked about, it’s an on switch. If we want it to be anything else, we’ve got to get it entangled with this pit of yours.”
“Do I need- gnh- to do anything else?”
“Look behind you.” He kept his left hand tight on the golden fixture, while his right hand fluttered across stiff old keys. “Fifteen tons of igneous granite. The Mono people used to gather here. Fresno Dome isn’t too far off either.”
“Why are you telling me this stuff, man?”
“’Cause I want you to think about it. First the Mono, doing what they do. They had an interesting diet, I’d like to try it myself. Then Roosevelt, probably sitting astride some big bastard of a horse and yukking it up about what he heard at the last Masons dinner. They were drawn here.”
“Uh-huh.” It hurt. God, it hurt. How long could it take for a signal to bounce around?
“And in 1961, Frank Hoyle turned up here with a suitcase full of ill-gotten lottery winnings and spoke to god.”
“What?”
“Frank was never one of us. Came up from Kentucky- we all already lived out this way. But we were still on campus, and before we ever got the work started, he was here, just like Roosevelt, and just like the Mono, and he made first contact before we made our first payment on the Alto.”
Dani’s head was swimming. She groaned and set her hands on the enormous stone, hoping to find her balance before she burnt up entirely. The Taurus’s radio seemed to turn itself up. When had they put Abba in?
There was something in the air that night, the stars were bright, Fernando…
“We talk a lot about axes and fixed points, especially in this line of work. Beaver Math, extraplanar condensation, fussy atomics, Clairvoyant Klondike… but that’s just vocabulary words. You want the hard truth of it, Dani?”
“God, shut up,” she slurred, pressing her forehead against the rock.
They were shining there for you and me, for liberty, Fernando…
And then he was gone. Everything but his voice, but he wasn’t attached to it anymore.
She stood on a plinth under a dome of darkness, casting her orange glow into a gray expanse with nothing in it but low fog that clung to the pale, smooth ground.
“You’ve been everywhere,” Craig echoed. His voice came from high up, as if the dome she stood under was the cone of a giant speaker. “Back and forth, up and down, in and out. Then and now, here and there.”
In this strange isolation, staring at her own glow reflected on the fog, she felt bile rise in her throat, the acid reflux of anger unattended and left to curdle. She wanted to speak, but felt like she’d vomit- just as she had with Mike. Every part of her resisted the urge, toes curling in her boots, hands clawing into the fabric of her apron.
His meaning dawned on her only when she stepped down from the plinth.
She had been here. In the dark. Standing in the shadow of a greater self, agglomerated of moments- ugly moments, hurtful moments, moments of shame and failure and inadequacy, all crammed down, down, down, so that she could build up an easy façade, 'take it all in stride,' and so on.
Why had she done that? So people would like her more?
They fuckin’ didn’t!
The fog began to clear as she grew hotter, brighter.
The only people who made friends with her were just as aggrieved, just as angry, and just as impotent.
That word stung her from the inside, and her flame grew angrier, revealing more of the dark dome.
A face loomed over her, etched into the stone. It was angular, androgynous, lined with age and lopsidedly amused. It didn’t move. It did abide. There was a magnetism to it- spiritually it was animate, even if it wasn’t physically.
The face of god.
Looks kinda like Marlene Dietrich, in Garden of Allah. –Didn’t Cyndi Lauper watch that movie in a music video?
“You made it,” the face intoned easily. The voice was deep and cool, but not unkind.
“Time After Time,” she answered, a little stupidly.
“Did you know Lou Albano was in that video? Played her father.”
“The wrestler?”
“He spent more time as a manager,” the face answered.
“I’ll be damned. Did you know she was-“
“Crying for real in the video?” They both said. Suddenly Dani hurt a little less. The face laughed.
“Alright. Okay. Are you Craig?”
“No, yes.”
“Aw, come on.”
“This doesn’t happen very often. I gotta get my kicks in somewhere.”
“So are you god?”
“Not really. Not the one they hope I am, anyway.”
Dani felt the corner of her mouth hitch in a grin. She didn’t realize it, but she was matching the amused expression of the face before her.
“Do I get to ask which one you are?”
“You can ask anything, Dani.”
“Alright. Can I smoke?”
“You shouldn’t, but sure. I’ve had a few nicknames. I like to tell people I’m Indrid Cold, but you’re a little too close to all this for that to work on you, huh?”
Dani lit a cigarette against the palm of her steadily-burning hand and took a long drag. “I mean, call yourself what you want, but if I’d think you’re hiding something- yeah, with that name, I would.”
“So call me Mangala, or Neto, or Bahram, or Lenus.”
“How long is this going to go on, Neto?”
“We both know the answer to that.”
Ah. Until I die.
“Could be a while. But you’re not a chosen one, and you’re also not a monster. You came close, the night you roasted young Sean, but he’ll come around again.”
“Well, if I’m not a monster, then what is?”
“Someone who likes it. Let’s face it, Dani, you do enough self-flagellating to sit the table at any old monastery you like. If you weren’t so cynical, you’d make a hell of a crusader.”
They both laughed at that.
“So what do I do?”
“What can any of us do?”
“Come on, man. Again?”
“Listen, you want answers. I get it. But you and I are in motion, right now. It always goes, it never stops. Ask your man Craig about that ‘langolier mechanism’ he’s so enthused about sometime. You try to pump the brakes, you get rear-ended.”
“So I never get to rest?”
“Not until you realize that resting and running are the same thing. –But with the way you go through old movies, I think you have a pretty good idea of that already.”
Dani sighed and gave the face a long look.
“Neto, Craig’ll kill me if I don’t ask while I’m here—”
“There’s a lot that man shouldn’t know.”
“Yeah, but…”
“You can tell him he’s right about the Nazca lines, but he’s on his own from there.”
“Are you two like, not cool?”
“It’s not like that. He just sucks all the fun out of everything. He’s kind of a math pervert. I’m sure there’s a lot of joy to be had in measuring the spokes of the Big Wheel or knowing the thread count of the Easy Chair’s upholstery, but that’s a joy I can never understand. It’s not an enlightened kind of joy. The man’s a real profligate.”
They regarded each other in vague agreement for a while.
“We should probably cut to the chase,” Dani eventually said. “There’s something wrong with me. You can, uh… see the fire.”
“I won’t tell you it’s a good sign. But I’ll also tell you that gunning for control is a mistake. You were striking on something interesting the other night, during Star Trek.”
Jeez, it knows about how I spend my nights. Kinda puts me on the spot.
“The thing about learning to like it?”
“Not it, Dani. Remember, you’ve been everywhere.”
And then its voice was gone, and Abba was back.
If I had to do the same again, I would, my friend, Fernando…
“Dani! Holy jeez, what the hell happened? I got the bounceback just now. You looked… you were gone, it was just fire standing there!”
Dani shuddered and ran her hands over her apron. Still intact. A little singed. Same with the woman underneath it.
“Did you- you’re right about the Nazca lines,” Dani blurted, suddenly losing her balance. She caught herself on the plinth beneath the giant stone and coughed up a mouthful of wet ash.
“The Nazca lines?” Craig blinked and adjusted his glasses. “What happened to you?”
“I thought you were pushin’ me toward that, with all your talk of Roosevelt and… the native folks, and whoever the fuck,”
“Hoyle. I was just trying to get you into a significant kind of mood, I didn’t plan for you to vanish! Where’d you go?”
“Honestly, Craig, I’m starting to think I went in.”
“In the rock?!”
“Yeah.”
“It’s solid granite!”
“Yeah.”
“…Yeah?”
“I think I did some Buckaroo Banzai shit. –Man, I’m still on fire, are we good? I feel like I’m gonna barf. I can’t turn it off once it’s going.”
“Signal’s strong and steady. Think you can stand up straight? –And to the East, you’ll want to cast your shadow ahead of you. Good frame of reference.”
Craig leaned into the driver’s-side window of the Taurus and flicked on the high-beams. Dani wobbled a bit, but turned away, and set her gaze on a shadow that stretched forward, deforming over the massive stone sphere.
“The Alto is about to produce a tone. When it does, close your eyes and think of… something really fundamental you can follow. Smoke on the Water, or uh… Billie Jean. Something you know by heart, okay?”
The old computer began to produce a strange tone. It was high, but it also hissed, and something underneath it seemed to pulse and thrum in a way that made her feel even sicker.
So she closed her eyes and sang.
“You could have a steam train,
If you’d just lay down your tracks,
You could have an aeroplane, flying,
If you bring your blue sky back,”
When she opened her eyes, her shadow had in some way peeled from her, no longer attached at the boots. It stood on the front of the stone, a hole in the headlight beams, eye-line equal with hers. She forced herself not to recoil from it.
“I wanna be, your sledgehammer,
Why don’t you call my name?
Ah! Let me be your sledgehammer,
This will be my testimony,”
It slid away from the surface of Globe Rock toward her- not hovering, not floating, sliding, like an abacus bead, on an axle that she couldn’t see. As it drew closer, she could see the time shear, the so-called langolier mechanism, damaging it. The edges frayed when they should have grown clearer. She opened her mouth to speak, and it opened its mouth to speak.
Fire poured into it from Dani’s open mouth. She clenched her fists as it boiled up unbidden. Her hatred for herself was dragonbreath, compressed plumes pummeling the ragged shadow, a stream of deadly white-orange trying again and again to make it disappear under light and heat.
But it wouldn’t. It was her, and she was here. And she had been everywhere.
It sang back to her.
“All you do is call me,
I’ll be anything you need,”
The song was infectious. Steady in her head. Peter Gabriel. ’86.
She reached out to herself. Laced burning fingers with solid shadow.
Reflections reflecting reflections. A two-dimensional shadow, half of a four-dimensional being.
It suddenly fell into her arms, a swooning dancer, weak and weary, dizzy and delighted. She could feel it shiver and sob in silence, the deep pit of her aching hatred and repressed miseries brought to bear in a way she finally had to confront.
It was her. And seeing it like this, unable to hold itself up under the weight of all these burdens, she felt her heart break at the sight of herself.
She had let Dani down.
She lifted her manifest shadow by the chin and kissed it, deeply, filling it with a smooth, steady exhale of living fire. It began to vanish, but she could feel it there, clinging to her, reattaching, coming ever closer. She didn’t dare pull away- not until it was gone, not until it was so close that it was her again, until it knew it was going to be safe. That she wouldn’t leave it. That it wasn’t all for nothing.
She numbly remembered the nametag as her fire began to die. She scooped it up from the top of the Alto’s awkward vertical screen and held it tight in her hand.
She felt her shadow holding it from the other side of reality and understood.
“I’ll take care of you,” she said. “We’ll be alright.”
If there was anything more to say, she couldn’t get a grip on it. She began to fade, and then collapsed in the headlight beams, unconscious.
<-Prev Next->
9 notes
·
View notes
Text
Kill V. Maim || Marina & Mina
TIMING: Recent-ish
PARTIES: @oceansrevenge @drowningisinevitable
SUMMARY: Marina and Mina go out to see if there’s any evidence where Teagan’s car was left. They bond.
CONTENTS: Terminal Illness mentions, Self-harm
Mina had agreed to meet Marina near Dark Score, where she remembered seeing the article say that Teagan’s car had been found. So there she was, pacing back and forth and not really sure what she was supposed to do. She wasn’t really sure what she was supposed to feel, either. She hadn’t known Teagan very long; the other nix had sort of barged into her life without any sort of warning at a time that was already full of turmoil, and now it seemed like she was going to leave just as much turmoil in her wake. What had she been thinking? Mina told her, explicitly, not to leave her house, to rest, to focus on conserving her strength. She was so stupid. She didn’t listen. Mina wrung her hands, full of energy but with nowhere to put it. She heard the sound of footsteps and whipped her head around before her eyes landed on a woman walking towards her, another Fae. “Marina?” she asked cautiously. Hopefully.
No matter how hard she thought on it, Marina could not find a good reason for Teagan to be leaving her houseboat in the first place. More than once, she’d offered to get anything the nixie needed for the cure or otherwise. She found herself endlessly frustrated by that decision. At least if she had succumbed to her illness, her sister would know what happened. A disappearance left too many unanswered questions. There was no changing the past, but she would have some words for the nix should they find her. Marina edged closer toward the lake and ignored the ache in her leg as she did so. More time in her waters was needed to be fully healed, but she would not leave Mina to search alone. Promises aside, she would have still felt a sense of duty to not leave her friend’s younger sister to face this alone. She spotted a younger woman who looked like she could be related to Teagan which was confirmed when the nix spoke her name. “Yes, it’s me. I would say it’s good to finally meet you, but I don’t think the circumstances allow that to be an entirely truthful statement,”
Her eyes shifted over toward the lake that seemed somewhat daunting, all of that freshwater. Marina was not entirely in her element here, but she’d protect Mina in any way she could. What she couldn’t wrap her head around was why Teagan came here in the first place. With a barely refrained sigh, she asked, “Any idea why she might have come out here? She assured me she would be getting her rest.”
The circumstances could certainly be better, Mina would have to agree on that. She hated this. She was frustrated and tired and worried and tired of being worried. It almost didn’t seem fair that Teagan had barged into her life and then decided to not listen when she was hurt just so she could disappear. Was this what a family did, then? Disappeared or died on you, just like her dad had? She didn’t want to think about that. She couldn’t think about that. What mattered was finding Teagan. Looking at the facts, investigating the scene, and then going from there.
“I don’t know,” Mina said. Because she’s stupid and stubborn. She frowned. “She’s got it in her head that she has to do everything herself, even though she can barely get out of bed, even though she’s killing herself just by moving.” Mina’s jaw clenched. She knew she was stubborn, but she wasn’t that damned stubborn. At least… she didn’t think she was. There was a difference, in her mind, to being injured and being sick. She could take care of her own injuries, for the most part. And she’d accepted help on a few near death occasions, even if it had been reluctant on her part. But she’d never been ill before, not in the long term with something slowly life threatening. Not something like this. She thought, maybe, as long as she had the people that she had, the ones that had shown her how to really love and be vulnerable, then she would accept help if she was sick in such a way. She hoped that she would, at least. “I suppose she lied,” she said bitterly. “It’s like she can’t accept any of the bloody help that’s been offered to her.” Teeth gritted together, Mina could practically feel scales cropping up down her spine. She needed to calm down. “I think the car was reported missing over here.”
It was frustrating to know that she could have done more given the chance. While Marina couldn’t gather whatever Teagan was getting out of the lake, she could have found or bound someone to. She felt robbed. In some form or another, she was always able to protect others she cared for. Her family, her community, that chalice– protecting all of them was a duty she took seriously and now she felt powerless to do anything of substance to help Teagan. Especially now that she was missing. But her own frustration was not what mattered. Mina was upset and she promised to look after it. She knew the way she’d worded the promise encompassed all senses of that. She sighed and said, “Sisters. They can be rather stubborn, but they always love you. And we will find Teagan.” Whether that was dead or alive was another question entirely.
As Marina followed to the spot Teagan’s car had been, her hands were clenched by her side and eyes were dark as she took in the scene. She scanned various patches of grass hoping to not see a body though she supposed the human law officers would have found one if there was one to find. That was some small thread of hope. “Do you know what she may have been doing out here,” she asked. There wasn’t anything immediately giving any clues as to where the other nix could have gone. It had her on high alert. If Teagan was taken, there was no saying if this place was safe. She could not let anything happen to Mina on her watch.
“I wouldn’t know,” Mina mumbled. “I’m new to the whole ‘sisters’ thing.” And it had never been anything that she’d wanted. Teagan had been kind so far, nice and pleasant and lovely to Bex, which far more than Mina had expected from someone raised in a strictly Fae setting, but still. Mina hadn’t wanted a family. She had no desire to be any more Fae than she already was. She knew that she looked at it the wrong way, sometimes. She was more similar to others of her kind than she cared to admit, though where they touted themselves as better, she thought of being Fae as much, much worse. And now here she was, getting more and more connections to a side of herself she didn’t even understand. Only for that connection to apparently wander off and disappear. “Don’t promise that,” she added bitterly, thinking about the promise that Teagan had already made with this stranger on her behalf in the first place. This whole thing was so frustrating. She didn’t want it to be frustrating.
“Probably looking for something for the damned cure, despite being told time and time again that other people could help.” Mina tapped her fingertips against her thumb, imagining piano key to press against and sooth her nerves. A kinder way to calm down, an easier one. Better than taking off in a run until her legs gave out and she tumbled down a hill. She’d been there, she’d done that, she had the scar in her side where a branch had stuck in and clung. She looked at the location that Teagan’s car had been, grass still pressed down flat where the tyres had been. She bent down, checking the mud to see if there were any footprints, any marks from vehicles that might not have been the typical police vehicles.
Cam was new to town, but the job was old hat to them. Their family had a reputation for being wardens that lived a long time in the game. Some of them even got the chance to retire. But Cam still had a lot of good years left in them, and White Crest seemed like a good place to spend those years. Fae seemed to lurk around every corner, under every rock, beside every road. They’d been driving down the road when they’d felt that familiar tingle, like spiders up the spine, letting them know that there was not just a fae but multiple in the area. They drove by the two strangers on the road but stopped the car when they were out of sight, pulling over and gearing up. They loaded up their crossbow and grabbed a few more bolts and then strapped on a belt of iron knives. When they got within distance, they notices the blonde one had bent down, checking the grass for something. So they aimed for the other one, deep breath in, hold, fire on the exhalation. Of course, Cam wasn’t the best shot. Whether or not it would hit was anyone’s guess.
It was difficult for Marina to ignore the frustration she was feeling. Rage was always better than worry. Rage could be channeled and used to do something effective. Worrying was useless. So she chose anger. She was mad that Teagan had gone out in the first place when Marina had all but insisted she was more than happy to grab whatever was needed for the cure. She’d reassured Teagan many times over she didn’t mind helping, it was simply what fae did for each other. Through pursed lips she muttered, “She shouldn’t have been out here at all. I offered to get whatever she needed.”
With Mina leaned down looking for footprints, Marina scanned the surrounding area from afar to see if anything looked out of place though she admittedly did not know the area all that well. Being so close to such a large body of freshwater was always a bit unnerving. Before she could ponder any of the possibilities with Mina, she felt iron graze her size, only just missing puncturing her. Her face hardened at the feel of the burn at her side and she ordered, “Stay down, Mina. We’re not alone here.” She crouched a bit lower herself to make herself a smaller target as she looked in the direction the iron arrow came from. Her eyes locked on the warden holding a crossbow, a coward’s weapon. “You know, a real warden would come out here and face me at a close range,” she taunted as she kept herself placed squarely in front of Mina.
“No, she shouldn’t have been,” Mina murmured, probably just as put out as Marina. She laughed, a bitter little sound. “Trust me, I told her the same thing, but she’s too– too– She doesn’t seem to get that people can help.” Maybe Mina was the same, but Teagan had no right. She had no right to come into Mina’s life and then pull this. Getting sick wasn’t her fault, but the way she’d responded to it certainly was, and that wasn’t fair to anyone. Didn’t she have a whole fucking family out there that loved her? Why wouldn’t she try to take care of herself for them? Mina stared at the ground and saw tyre marks that didn’t look quite right, the tread bulkier and wider than Teagan’s or any sort of police vehicle’s. She blinked, about to mention that, when Marina told her to stay down.
Mina almost stood out of spite. She didn’t give a damn what sort of promise this woman had made Teagan, she had no right to order Mina around. But Mina stayed down, the order of it enough to make listen and take note of her surroundings, her hand going to the sheathe in her boot to pull out an iron blade. She could see the warden in the distance, looking at the two fae as it loading another crossbow bolt.
“A smart warden knows that distance is the best way to make sure this never even becomes a fight!” Cam called out, their tone conversational. “Say, isn’t this the place where that woman went missing a few weeks ago? You two have anything to do with that?” They probably did, probably ate the woman’s corpse or used it for some twisted ritual out in the woods. Or maybe she’s still alive and being kept captive, bound into their service through words alone. Cam fired off another bolt, but it went wide with both of them ducked down into the grass. “I know how much you fair folk love deals. Maybe we could make one: you come on out, and I’ll kill you both quick, yeah?”
Marina glared at the warden with dark eyes. Rushing him would be a risk, but was likely one she would have to take to get him off their backs and keep Mina safe. She scoffed, “Only a coward shys away from an even fight. Or maybe you just haven’t learned to control your iron touch yet.” She remained knelt in front of Mina and never took her eyes off the loaded crossbow. His first shot had only grazed her, but he would eventually make one sit if they stood here with no real cover. She whispered to Mina without looking back, “I’m going to approach him. It’d be a good idea to find cover before making any sort of approach. He will be distracted by me.” Without waiting for a confirmation, she charged forward and ran in a zig zag pattern to make herself a harder target to hit. It nearly worked save for the bolt that was placed cleanly in her left shoulder. She ground her teeth as she ran, refusing to give the warden the satisfaction of seeing her in pain. As she crashed into the hunter, she only saw red.
“You say coward, I say pragmatic,” Cam mused. They liked the verbal sparring that always came with an intelligent fae. The fae always, always, argued back, thinking that they could catch Cam in a net of wording, but Cam was smart. Cam was prepared. Cam was excited, though, when the fae started to charge, especially when a bolt pierced her. They wouldn’t have time to load up a new bolt, so the went ahead and pulled out two knives. As soon as the fae crashed into them, Cam allowed the iron to swarm to the surface of their skin, attacking her wherever she made contact. They weren’t worried about the other one. Not at the moment.
“Marina!” Mina had whispered angrily after the other Fae as she had charged off. She gritted her teeth and decided to work her way around as soon as the warden and Marina were locked in combat. Cover wouldn’t work; there wasn’t any, not close enough for her to actually help. And maybe that was the point. Maybe Marina, just like Teagan, didn’t think that she could hold her own. It was so frustrating. Everything lately was just so ridiculously frustrating. She kept low, her eyes on the fight, and made it behind the two as they fought. She didn’t want to kill the warden. She didn’t know how to communicate that to Marina, not at the moment. But she could at least attempt to incapacitate the warden. She threw a knife, aimed for the calve, and hit it, the knife embedding itself in the muscle. The warden growled in anger, but they didn’t turn to Mina, instead redoubling their efforts against Marina.
The burn of the iron made her glamor hard to maintain. Her skin turned slick and orange though Marina was able to maintain her land legs. Tentacles could be helpful, but were far too clumsy on land. The iron seared all over her body and she grit her teeth with a sinister smile as blue blood dripped onto the warden. Weakness was never allowed and something in the thrill of violence made her relish in the pain. She was alive. While she grappled him with very minor success, she felt the jerk of the hunter’s leg. It was slight, but paired with the queasy feeling, she knew Mina was still here. The warden was still focused on her, she may not be strong enough to overpower him, but she could be a distraction so Mina could swoop in. She had mentioned training her whole life and Marina did not intend to coddle the nix. She balled her hands into fists and began striking the hunter’s face and chest, albeit with fairly weak punches. She just needed to keep his focus off Mina and on her, even if it meant taking more blows. “You are smarter than many I’ve met,” she breathed out. It was the only reason they would both remain alive. Getting Mina away safely was more important than both she and the hunter fighting until one of them finally died. She supposed it wasn’t her time just yet.
Cam tried to whip their head around to look for the other fae, but they were being bombarded by fists, so they couldn’t turn their attention away from the fae in front of them. Fine. Let her beat her fist along their body, spill their blood. Cam smirked, grinning with bloody teeth. “I appreciate the compliment,” they said before spitting iron rich blood at the fae. Their skin was tingling with all the iron they’d brought to the surface, but even a trained warden couldn’t keep that up for forever. They were growing tired, and they only wished they had managed to get a few shots in before the monster had launched herself at them.
Mina was looking for an in, grateful that Marina had managed to keep the warden’s attention away from her. She stood, no longer crouched, and bounced herself on the balls of her feet for a moment as she prepped herself for what she was about to do. The plan was to use her weight to unbalance the warden and send them toppling over, hopefully giving Marina and herself enough time to escape. So Mina steadied her heartbeat and her mind, and she took off in a sprint before leaping onto the warden’s back, wrapping herself around them and attempting to pull them to the ground.
The motion of distracting the warden with a flurry of fists became increasingly difficult as the iron bolt sunk a little deeper into her shoulder with each punch. Marina did not lose her adrenaline or the sinister grin, but she knew she could only hold on to consciousness for a short time longer. Blue blood was seeping into the frock she wore and onto the hunter who used his own blood against her. She braced herself for the sting that hit her face and kept her glare schooled on him. Her eyes only left his form for a split second as she caught Mina from the corner of her eye. Perhaps she would leave here today after all. Through a pained laugh, “I wasn’t trying to get a bind out of you. Any half decent warden doesn’t have that word in their vocabulary.” The statement was more meant to keep his attention as Mina lept onto his back. From the movements the nix made, Marina picked up on her idea. Knock the warden down, she could help with that. Pain rippled through her shoulder and side as she put all her strength into pushing the hunter backwards as Mina pulled on him.
“What I lack in manners, I make up for in tenacity,” Cam told the fae before they realized they should have been paying more attention to where the other one was. This one was more important, clearly, with the way that she bombarded them with fists and anger, that bravado that Cam knew well because they, too, were full of it. That didn’t matter, though, in the end, because they should have been paying attention. Where the other one was, currently, was on Cam’s back, latching her hands around their neck and pulling. They choked, forcing as much iron to flood the skin around their neck as possible, but the other fae was pushing, too. Cam couldn’t keep themself upright, and they went down, hoping that they could crush the other fae under them with the force of their weight.
Mina was appreciative of Marina helping to get the warden to fall up until the moment that she felt them crashing down on top of her. Her arms being wrapped around their neck had been mostly fine; she wore sleeves anyway, so it wasn’t like they touched skin, and she was used to iron regardless. The pain was irrelevant. The warden fell on top of her, and Mina gave a slight grunt as she attempted to pull herself out from under them, struggling and kicking as she tried to scramble away before the hunter regained their bearings.
As she fell forward with the hunter, Marina was quick to hop away so as to not crush the nix under him too much. She grinned down at the sight of the warden on the ground though her vision was becoming more and more obstructed as more blood leaked from her wounds. She hated to leave a warden alive, but getting Mina out of here was far more important than anything else. As Mina wiggled out from underneath the hunter, she gritted out a whisper, “You should give his head a good kick if you can. Can’t chase us on our way out if he is unconscious.” She was sure her own kicks would land as strongly as they needed to. The feeling of delirium made her limbs feel far too light at this point to do any significant harm.
Even now, Mina didn’t want to kick the warden while they were down. They were already trying to get up, so she scrambled over to them, hand going to the thick, ropey muscle in their neck and pressing down there until their body went limp. Not a kick but unconscious all the same. She saw the keys to their vehicle hanging out of a pocket and grabbed them, throwing them as far as she could before she got to her feet and went to Marina to support her. Marina’s glamour was still flickering, no longer as stable as it had been when they’d first met. They needed to leave before the warden woke up or someone else stumbled across them. “Come on,” she murmured. “I didn’t park too far. I have a first aid kit, and then I can get you to the ocean.”
There was a pleased smile on her face as she saw Mina applied pressure to a muscle that had the warden out cold on the ground. Marina was impressed with the trick and would have to ask her about it another time. It was no wonder the girl did not desire being coddled, she was proficient and independent which were traits Marina respected a great deal. “That was a good move,” she said with a toothy grin that looked out of place on her bloodied body. Marina let some of her weight rest on Mina. They would get out of there much quicker if she allowed the younger nymph to help. Her legs felt especially unsteady as her glamor struggled to remain. “That is a good plan. I appreciate it. If we could go towards the lighthouse, I’d prefer my non-fae lighthouse mate remove the bolt. No need for either of us to sustain further injury.” Or for her to risk further damage on the chance that felt outside the realm of what she promised to Teagan. The car was quickly coming into view which she was thankful for. She hazarded one last glance behind them to see the warden still on the ground. It’d be so easy to go back and finish him, but every muscle in her body protested the idea.
“It was just– I mean– I just found the pressure point. That was all,” Mina said, ducking her head away from Marina’s smile. Lighthouse. Okay, she could get them towards the lighthouse. That wouldn’t be a problem. She trusted Marina to let her know if the warden woke up as the two of them made their way to the car. She helped Marina into the passenger side, glancing around to make sure that no one had followed them. The blue blood would probably leave weird stains in the seats, but it wouldn’t be that bad. She almost argued, telling Marina that she dealt with iron everyday, that pulling out one bolt would hardly do anything to her, but she simply relented with a sigh. They hadn’t found anything, hadn’t really accomplished anything other than Marina getting hurt, and Mina had to wonder if there was even anything left to find. Maybe Teagan really was just gone. That familiar frustration welled up again, and Mina fought it down. More pressing worries. “You’ll have to direct me to the lighthouse, but I’ll get us there as quickly as possible. Promise.”
6 notes
·
View notes
Text
TIMING: Current
PARTIES: @noel-but-spooky @teaganmyrick
SUMMARY: Teagan finds Noel looking into the possible connection she may have to Erica’s murder.
CONTAINS: Terminal Illness
Whenever energy dwindled away, something seemed to pull. Teagan could feel another force, once that held as much power as the waters she called home. Giving into it, that tether, was easy. Natural, even. And whenever she found herself in that plane, the one that kept her invisible to the living, she felt anew. She found herself tearing up every time, letting fresh tears fall freely down her cheeks and disappearing the moment they left her incorporeal skin. Days passed and it was as if it had been years with how little she was able to connect with others. Not even her sister. She just had to hope she would be able to get a message to Mina soon. Maybe then, she could be put to rest. Though she hated the idea, she knew it was inevitable now that she was dead. Her mistakes led her to an instant ending. All there was left to do was find a way to pass on in totality.
Walking back home, Teagan noticed someone snooping around her boat. At first, she thought it might be a friend, trying to find her, but the closer she got, the more she realized the person was a complete stranger. And they were finagling with the lock to her door. Now that was new. Teagan couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it all. “Um,” she cleared her throat, “Excuse me. What are you doing?”
With everything Noel had begun to learn about the lake, and considering the timing, it was easy to connect the news of Teagan Myrick’s disappearance to Erica's death, at least in theory. Erica had been the one to suggest going to the woman’s home instead of the lake, though it was hard to tell if this was strategic or simply because Erica had started to get bummed by the idea of returning to the sight of her death. Either way, Noel wasn’t going to argue. This was as good a lead as any.
It wasn’t too hard with some searching to find the docked houseboat. Noel stepped towards the door, looked around, and knocked. A few moments passed. There was no response.
Honestly not sure what you expected, came Erica's voice from the back of her mind.
“I didn’t want to snoop around if someone was home.”
Yeah, I’m sure someone’s home at the missing girl’s place.
“Good point.”
There were a few moments where Noel just stood by the door, glancing around for signs of any struggle or break in or well...anything. To her eyes everything looked normal on the outside. Nothing screamed out “scene of a crime” but then again, there might be more to find here that wasn’t as cartoonishly obvious as chalk body outline or smashed windows. Erica certainly seemed eager, even if Noel began to grow uneasy at the idea of snooping around private property.
Noel opened up her mouth to say as much, only for her hand to begin to twitch, and then suddenly Erica was in control, and was-
You know how to pick locks? Noel said, startled and a bit dizzy from the sudden switch.
“Yeah, I got up to a lot of stuff after you left me to go to Boston.”
Noel didn’t have time to feel bad or respond to that, because just as quickly as Erica started messing around with the lock a voice came from behind them, causing them to jump.
Erica turned around and put on an even smile as if she wasn’t just caught red handed.
“Lost my keys, was just trying to get back in the old fashion way.” It was such a blatant lie that Noel could feel her stomach twist with worry. But the woman who had spotted them didn’t look angry. Actually, she looked somewhat familiar....
“Do I know you from somewhere? Or do you just have one of those faces?”
Just as Teagan was about to kick herself for forgetting no one could hear her, Noel jumped. Physically reacted to her voice in a way no one had in days. “Wait, you can hear me?” Widened eyes teared up with excitement, clearly taken aback by the sudden acknowledgement. But then those same eyes twitched and narrowed as Teagan began to wonder why exactly this strange woman was attempting to break in. Noel’s wasn’t a face she could place nor did she seem to even know who’s home she was breaking into. Or did she? The tone of recognition piqued her interest, motivating her to prod further.
“Perhaps you’ve seen me in those posters that have been put up in town,” Teagan said, furrowing her brows and pointing towards the door with her chin. “That’s my house you’re picking the lock to.” Slowly, her shoulders dropped further and further as the gravity of her condition settled. There was no other option than to accept it. “And you’re an exorcist, medium, or dead, so…what are you and why are you here?”
Erica’s eyebrows knit together with confusion and Noel was right there with her. Seeing this woman close to tears wasn’t exactly the reaction either of them expected from being caught.
“Yeah, of course I can hear you?” Erica raised an eyebrow at her. But as the woman continued it became clear why they had recognized her. Noel’s stomach dropped. So this was Teagan, the face she had seen in the paper. And she was dead.
“Want to take a guess?” Erica said to Teagan’s question. Noel wasn’t sure if Erica was just messing with her or was trying to keep things under wraps about the two of them. “I’ll answer the second one though. I’m doing a little investigating into your disappearance which seems like it might have been more than just a disappearance considering,” Erica motioned to Teagan. “You’re here and dead.”
Teagan’s expression fell to one of disbelief at the insensitive answer. Humans really were the worst sometimes. “My guess is that you’re an arse with no awareness of anything or anyone besides yourself.” She bit out, perhaps a little too driven by her anger at being dead. But really, having someone not take the time to pick their words more carefully. With actual care. “Obviously, connasse,” Teagan emphasized the word with irritation taking refuge in each syllable. “If you can see me and you’re of the special few that can see spirits, then of course, I’m dead.”
Taking a few steps, she reached Noel, standing a few inches above the woman with ease. There wasn’t very much that was possible to do, but Teagan wanted her feelings known, and wanted to show how displeased she was with Erica. “You don’t look like a detective, so why do you care about my disappearance? Or rather, why do you care about my murder?”
Bobbi could be seen from the door, and then a few other neighbors walked by, staring at Noel. The revelation that the woman probably looked a bit kooky talking to herself at a missing person’s door made Teagan smirk. She needed to know more, though and neither of them needed Noel dragged away by authorities. With a sigh, the nix pointed at a metal post, “There’s a hide-a-key there. It’s a magnetic box that blends in. Use that to unlock the door before you get the police called on you.”
Noel would have shrunk away. Erica didn’t. She stood there, staring at Teagan, doing her best to seem unphased. And maybe she truly wasn’t. Noel didn’t feel her body tense at Erica’s emotions, didn’t feel her heart race with nerves. Perhaps the looming presence of a ghost meant little to someone who was already dead themselves.
“Calm down,” Erica said, as if that would make anything better. “I care because I’m dead too.” With that she reached for the hide-a-key Teagan pointed out and unlocked the door much to Noel’s relief. Once inside Erica was quick to glance around. She didn’t close the door behind her, waiting for Teagan to come through. Could Teagan just float through a closed door? Noel wondered, but she supposed regardless it was nice of Erica to not slam the woman’s own door in her face.
“Do you remember what happened? Mine is a bit hazy so,” Erica shrugged. “Don’t know if it works the same for everyone, the whole being dead thing.”
A scoff escaped Teagan at Erica’s command. Had it not been for her statement of sharing the same affliction as her, she surely would have had an outburst. Instead, she faltered. Shoulders sank further, and she followed the woman inside, still reeling in silence at the connection. Had Levi killed her, too? Had it lured her in with something she was desperate for? No, couldn’t be. The person in front of her was upright. “What do you mean you’re dead too? So you’re a zombie or vampire?” She had to get to the bottom of it.
“N-no.” Teagan stammered her answer uncomfortably, thinking of Levi’s face. Her final moment. “Not how it happened at least. One moment, I was talking to someone and it was checking something. It placed its hands on my head like,” She hovered her hands over where Levi’s would have been over Erica’s head. “Then I was like this.” Her hands dropped, and so too did her head as she backed away. “Can’t even find my body. I was only recently able to get help because my vampire friend came looking for me and was able to see me.”
“What does it matter what I am, I can see you, you can see me.” Though after she said that Erica thought for a moment before likely coming to the same conclusion Noel was coming to. There was likely little harm in telling this ghost what Erica was. But despite that, Noel couldn’t help feeling equal parts uneasy and curious. Maybe it was because Erica was in control, but this was the first time Noel had heard or seen a ghost this clearly outside of her friend. She didn’t know what to make of it.
“I’m a ghost. In a body. Not mine but my friend’s fine with it.” Erica leaned against a piece of nearby furniture as Teagan explained what happened to her. “That sounds shitty,” she finally said after a few moments. “Sorry that happened. I ‘drowned’” she surrounds the word with heavy air quotes. “Don’t actually remember what happened either, I just know it wasn’t that. Who was this someone, the person who did that to you?”
“It matters because I need to know who may be around the people who are helping me. My sister and my friends.” Teagan crossed her arms, irritation growing instantly, but falling within the next beat. She had her answer, though it only raised more. Possession wasn’t something she had tried yet, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to, but it was good information to store for later. What had the nix’s attention more than the idea of possession, was the fact that Erica had drowned. Waving her hands quickly, she shook her head and repeated ‘whoa’ over and over again.
“Why would they think you were drowned? Was this at Dark Score? Is that why you think we’re connected somehow?” A shaky sigh traveled past Teagan’s lips and she tensed her hands into fists a few times to relieve the pressure building within. Any time she was forced to recall her final moments, she found that panic bubbled in her stomach in a way that made her feel nauseous. If ghosts could feel nausea. She could remember the feeling well enough to simulate it in her spiritual form that Levi put her in. “It was a demon that took the appearance of a man. I was dying from an illness and it formed a deal with me. Wanted me to help it perfect a ritual in return for curing me. I…” She knew how idiotic it sounded. To agree to a stranger claiming to be able to make her ailment disappear. “I was desperate. My scales were flaking, my gills were filled with a fungus, and I could feel my life draining. I really…” A lump filled her throat, making it difficult to speak. She swallowed thickly, persevering through the tears. “It lied to me. I was stupid. And now I’m dead.”
“Yeah it was at Dark Score. They found me in the water by the bank, and the police said I drowned while drunk but,” Erica shook her head and Noel could feel her jaw tense slightly. “Well that wasn’t what actually happened. Or at least not all of it. Maybe I did drown but someone did that to me. Wish I could fucking remember.”
There were a few moments of quiet. Erica was pretty good at keeping a poker face, but that didn’t stop Noel from feeling the tension in her body. Recalling her own death couldn’t have been easy whenever it came up.
As if it wasn’t hard enough to feel Erica’s stress, Noel’s heart sank at Teagan’s explanation of what had happened to her. The whole situation sounded awful in a way that was hard to fathom. Erica stayed quiet then shook her head again. “I thought it might be related since all the news of your disappearing and my death came so close together but I don’t remember making a deal with some stranger. Not that I remember much of anything from that night but,” She shrugged. “Are you a ghost because of what this demon did to you, like the whole ritual or whatever, or just unfinished business? I don’t really know much of how this works. You're the first other spirit I’ve met.”
It was Teagan’s turn to shake her head, knowing full well she remembered every face she drowned. And really, she hadn’t drowned anyone in that lake. Much to her relief, most steered clear of the lake, and those who didn’t were too fearful to get too close. “No one else was inhabiting that lake but me, and I surely didn’t drown you. Would’ve remembered your face,” Noel had a nice face. Deep brown eyes so large that she could sink into them. Teagan would’ve been a little disappointed to have drowned a woman so beautiful, even if they were human. But that wasn’t Erica’s face. Eyes blinked rapidly, realizing the person in front of her wasn’t the one she would have had to memorize. The body wasn’t hers, having a completely different visage. Though she doubted the sentiment would change. Pretty people usually had pretty friends. But she was getting too lost in the idea. She needed to focus on the questions and details.
“I’m guessing I’m a ghost because of my unfinished business. I recently found my sister and was trying to create a bond with her. We were just getting to know each other just before I died.” Teagan’s eyes watered at the thought of her sister. So much left undone, so much she already missed. “I spent most of my life looking for her to give her a family, but now I can’t even do that. Can’t do anything but wait until she finds out I’m dead and we’re able to find my body.” She looked away, face going dark with sorrow. One so deep that she could feel herself going hollow and cold. “I have another spirit friend and a few undead friends. A vampire and sluágh. I could introduce you and maybe they can help you too. I’m really sorry you’re having to go through this. It’s…” She swallowed, “It’s not natural to exist this way. To feel the pain of your own death. So…I’m sorry. And I’m sorry I called you connasse.” Her lips curved into a half-hearted smile in an attempt at friendliness. More friends would be nice given her state.
Erica opened her mouth to say something, but closed it again as she tried to process what Teagan had just said. “Wait, sorry, what was that about drowning people?”
Metzli did mention there were fey around... Noel murmured. It wasn’t like Teagan hadn’t just been talking about gills and scale. But it was hard not to feel uneasy around another...monster? That felt like the wrong word to call the woman in front of them. Maybe we should help her? I know it probably isn’t connected to your death but...
Teagan looked so pained, and genuinely remorseful for Erica’s plight as well. It wasn’t the same, not at all, but Noel couldn’t help feeling a pang of distant understanding. The idea of losing someone and finally seeing them again only for that to be torn away. If Noel had known what was going to happen to Erica she would have done anything to keep her alive, to come back to her before any of this had happened. She could only imagine what Teagan’s sister must be feeling.
“The person who drowns people?” Erica hissed under her breath.
Metzli said they killed before too.
“Yeah, and that’s still fucking wild that you seem fine with that.” In the close quarters there was little Erica could do to keep Teagan from hearing the seemingly one sided conversation, regardless of how lower her voice was. Erica raised her eyes to Teagan. “Yeah it sucks. It sucks being dead. And my friend wants to help I guess but sorry for being a bit unsure about someone who drowns people. I was here thinking we were connect because of the lake not because you murder people there.”
“It’s not that simple,” Teagan huffed. Humans couldn’t understand her connection to water. What it meant to be one with the freshwater and protect it at all costs. To feel the pain of pollution and the freedom of healing from contamination. “It’s in my nature to protect…well, was in my nature to protect my waters. Humans contaminate. Humans pollute and destroy the life within the waters I reside in. I am one with it, and feel its pain when danger comes to it.” Sucking in a breath, she clicked her teeth in frustration and rubbed at her face to keep herself calm. She didn’t want to get upset, but it was difficult to hold it back. A human could never understand the connection, the need to keep nature balanced. Not when they were the creatures prone to cause the damage.
Teagan crossed her arms defensively, unsure on how to approach the rest of the matter. While she was proud of her nature, she knew how to dial her pride back in front of humans. They were too filled with fear. Too filled with rightful thoughts and actions of self-preservation. They were prey and Teagan was predator, but she’d be more likely to call herself a protector. Her priority was her community and her body of water. Everything came second. “I don’t kill willy nilly. I do as the water needs. I do my part in to ecosystem.”
“Does a bunch of dead bodies floating in the water not pollute it or is that all ‘nature is healing’ to you?” Erica questioned, before glancing down at her twitching hand. Noel’s hand. Because in her anxiety at the escalating tension of the situation Noel had seized control of it without thinking. She tapped lightly on Erica’s leg.
Umm, maybe let me talk to her? I just-
“Just what?” Erica snapped.
You seem upset, I don’t...I just think maybe we should calm down or something.
“Sure, you're the ghost whisperer after all,” Erica rolled her eyes, not even bothering to keep her voice quiet. She turned back to Teagan and said: “Well, for what it's worth, I think you drowning people is awful, to say the least. But I guess my friend here is suddenly fine with murder so-”
Erica-
But before Noel could defend herself against Erica words there was a sudden whirling in her mind. Noel squeezed her eyes shut and tried not to stumble at the spinning sensation. At least Erica had been leaning against something. Coming back into her body wasn’t easy, especially with little warning.
“Hi, um.” Noel opened her eyes again to look at the ghost in front of her, trying to force away the mixture of dizziness and nerves. “I’m Noel. Sorry, Erica, my friend, she just...the whole death murder drowning thing is a sore topic. But I’m sorry about what happened to you. Is there any way we could help? And you could help us. If you want, that is...”
Erica was notably silent in her head and Noel swallowed nervously, unsure what to do about her now pissed off friend other than try to ignore it for now.
Teagan gritted her teeth and rolled her eyes, “Can’t pollute the waters if the bodies are eaten or disposed of.” Words dripped with acid, clearly uncaring for Erica’s thoughts on the matter. “Like a human could understand the will and needs of nature. Your word isn’t worth anything anyway.” Fists curled, full of ire and a need for an outlet, but finding nothing. It helped, if only a little, when Noel made herself known and attempted to alleviate the tension. The change was nothing, if not jarring. Even more so for Noel based on her physical reaction to it all. Teagan appreciated her efforts and hoped the person in front of her was a little more tolerable than her nuisance of a friend.
“Hi Noel. Not sure there is much I can do, but if I can do anything, I’d be happy to help. Regardless of how rude your friend is, it’s only right.” Teagan unfurled her fists and sighed, raising her palms in peace. “I really do hope you find out what happened. And if you find out more information, you’re welcome to come back and let me know. For now though…” She sighed, “I think I want to be alone.”
“Yeah, I imagine having some alone time would be nice,” Noel nodded, words somewhat slowed from her distraction over Erica’s silence. “We can get out of your hair. I’m sorry again for...well I guess trying to break in to start. And the other stuff as well.” She sighed and stood up from where she was leaning, making her way towards the door now that she felt more on balance.
“If you do need help I can try to, but I’m not exactly used to the whole seeing ghosts thing. But I can try.” In some ways Noel almost felt obligated to. Maybe not to the same extent as with Erica, it wasn’t like she knew Teagan at all, but seeing her and hearing her story made turning away and pretending none of this had happened seem cruel. “But if you’d rather us just stay away I understand.”
“I’ll think about it. I appreciate your understanding. It’s just…a lot right now.” Nodding tiredly, Teagan watched as Noel walked out of her home, finding the silence a little overbearing, but needed. There was plenty to mull over after the tense conversation, but all she could find herself thinking about were her loved ones. If a stranger went looking, surely someone she knew would, too. Until then, she would wait for that weighted moment, knowing just how heavy it would make her heart. That’s all she really could do.
6 notes
·
View notes
Text
My Three Years of Rest and Relaxation
I lay on a foam mattress, five inches thick, encased in plastic. The breeze slips through the window, kissing my toes as I type furiously.
The best years of my life look like hiding, shaking, snorting something through a pen cap.
It kicks me awake. My fingers search for perfect metaphors, while I eat cold soup from the can
and see the beauty in things like this.
The melodrama is delectable, contrived, all mine. I can’t help myself. Class is a mere suggestion, impeding on a real education. I will see this through
to the end, with an ever-rotating cast of players. White-knuckled, I cling to them. I weave them into my tapestry. I hang their scraps on the walls. I’m disappointed when the end result looks
nothing like me. On a Wednesday morning, I wake and think of all the people going to work. I take swigs of your mother’s vodka. I watch as the houseboats along the canal stir with life.
You snore beside me as softly as the waves lapping. I call it cultural immersion. My parents leave me alone. Mostly I laze around, in my filthy little ecosystem.
0 notes
Text
Lake Powell House Boat Rentals
Remember, as soon as you step onto an expensive yacht, you expect to see polished woods in deep rich hues, so this should also put on your furniture and if necessary, your wood flooring, should choose to to buying wood timber.
How reachable are you going regarding to me, buyers different Brokers? We make calling often with Brokers and wait for the to hear back all of them. My cell phone and PC are constantly on; obtain reach me if need to have to; so can buyers!
Before you head out though you will find things you should know. This is a large lake, measuring 55,000 acres in total amount. In order to get around choose a (getting back hotels, attractions and restaurants) you will need to take a boat. Sure, others walk the area, but that is hours and hours of needless oct 20! Why not take a boat? cheap yachts will not only speed your travel time, but additionally you can visit many establishments that are exclusively hosted on a houseboat. What must you know about Lake belonging to the Ozarks boat charter near me? Here are five solutions.
Whether in order to thinking of mega yacht charter potentially Mediterranean yacht charter search for find everything on the net, . i am quite sure that once you will enter these mega charters then pause to look for be quite overwhelmed by seeing the comfort and luxury which obtain enjoy out here. It simply ideal.
Yes, you need to take a boater education course. Although visitors much older than 25 can legally operate a boat, it is suggested that all boat operators complete a certified boat safety course. If you are younger than 25, you'll want to complete exercising . by statute.
The Ryde area possesses his own rescue services that is present in case there is ever any problems. The ocean is filled with boats that bring lots of fisherman and boaters of all over the field of. If you like boating and fishing, then you can even examine out the right way to rent a boat as stay and also. Are you wondering how you will need to to travel throughout town? Well, you can find many taxi services and rail carts that can help you with the necessary travel involves.
Go bird and animal watching. Most forest parks and camping sites have brochures or leaflets relating to the different kinds of animals that might be found across the area are usually worth watching and to find out with respect to. A fun thing to do would be to buy books on wildlife before your camping trip and are game basic children and then determine who can spot the animals first. Just be sure that you maintain your children at any safe men and women.
It might sound silly, some my students found that renting a moped and cruising along the islands turn out to be one of the highest quality experiences. Simple adventures like taking longer tail boat from one island one more can be quite thrilling. Adventure is often equated to new experiences and Thailand has plenty to feature.
#botel#stay#hotel#rent a boat#yachts#boat rentals near me#boat rental near me#ibiza#barcelona#Spain#Mallorca#menorca#malaga#palma#la palma#airbnb#boat#yacht#vacation#rent a yacht#boat rentals#yacht rentals#boating#fishing#sleep
1 note
·
View note
Text
Wakeboard Tower Rack - What Should Know A Person Buy
Get Rich book writers often a person to visualize yourself later on. My old shop teacher in junior high school use to say, "Some day Let me have a red Cadillac convertible a half-mile long and when i pass you on the road I'm in order to be spit inside your eye.
If you check out some plans and patterns you will dsicover just how easy plan to art. What you need to do now is decide at the size and design that you would like. Probably the best technique of doing that is actually hire a houseboat for just a weekend and try it out in the open. Take notes of sizes and features and work out how you would do it differently. Possibilities usually houseboat hire places at many popular water ways. Many more popular waterways are inundated with houseboat force that lies below take part in this popular vacation. Some even live onboard permanently and row a boat ashore to go to work leaving a car near while.
If you are planning on sharing the cost of a yacht with various other people correct to establish how will probably work when two maybe we do not to make use of the yacht in the same a chance. You may in order to establish in the beginning every and every year, as well years in advance, what days, weeks, or months each person can make use of the yacht. Extremely healthy ingredients . give everyone a fairly good chance to plan vacations around the schedule.
As you search for just about any new boat, consider the actual where this is used. best place to buy a pontoon boat is small, you need a smaller boat. Should what credit score do you need to buy a boat naturally too large for demands at least of water, you will feel like you are on a kiddy ride at the amusement leave.
There are several yachts and too a broker are there to tell you all about each with each yacht they've got in retain. Some can relax in pictures nevertheless the broker helps make the yacht present at that moment while he/she is describing it in full details. The yacht broker is well versed in his field and able to tell you whether techniques the yacht can be maintained. Maintenance costs could be very high depending on various yachts, hence the broker comes handy to know exactly you about what yacht is cheap to maintain and which ones are costly to buy a yacht maintain.
Numbers two and three are extremely important because they take into mind the Experience with the Broker that may well you doing a good decision.
For a smallish party of two to 4 people, the "open utility" is the correct choice. These utility boats are registered in an extensive majority underneath the " utility" class. Are usually small boats with 2 to 3 seats. These utility boats are usually 12 to 19 feet in length and could be trailed, launched, and retrieved very easily and are the best option for fishing. They can also be very simple to operate and gaze after. However, they are unsuitable for large bodies of water.
The surveyor said nothing, proceeded immediately and accomplished a long and thorough inspection. Finally, he finished and slowly screwed ideal onto his Parker Fountain pen. A hush fell over the yard like the surveyor and owner faced each any other.
#boat house#houseboats#buy a home#water front#lake house#boats for sale#yachts for sale#sell a boat#buy a boat#houseboats for sale#buy a yacht#boat dealer#boat broker#yacht dealer#homes#real estate#water#travel#houseboat#yacht#self efficiency
1 note
·
View note
Text
House Boat Plans - Have A Great House Boat And Save Cash And Time
In boat house rental are intending to buy a houseboat, it really is to along with used houseboats. There are a variety of who create a lifestyle from your houseboats. Analyzing often keep selling their houseboats to obtain newer your current. There are even others who tend to live on a houseboat for some time, and then they decide to give through their houseboat lifestyle. You plan to get yourself a houseboat, it really is a better option for a person go of those.
The Jon boat is a brand aluminum shallow boat at this point very light and in order to understand handle interior and exterior the water by one person. It uses standard five foot wood oars and oar curly hair. It came to me painted dark green and remained that way of a good many long period. The only thing we needed to do each year was put it in and out belonging to the water each spring and fall. This past winter some kids got at it and broke the oars and spray painted graffiti on the boat alone. I did manage to see the two anchors I had, one of which was hand built by father in law It looked like a houseboat for sale real naval anchor and truly any bit too much but his heart what food was in the right place. About how exactly it was time to redo the boat therefore hauled it to your house garage but got started.
youtube
There are several types of paint systems that are different on the abovementioned since usual they probably will draw a lot of flack from those types that love writing towards the editor a celebrity or another. Mainly I suspect, because something isn't quite conventional. Each of the following paints has their different uses and edges.
I met a family recently have been living on the gorgeous, crystal-clear lake and enjoying every day, catching fish off their deck or scrambling down a swim ladder whenever the urge struck to be able to for a splash. The guy of your family built their wonderful house boat just about by himself - despite, as he explained, never having completed anything before, except with regard to birdhouse he built to be a kid in summer camp!
The boats that are supplied are all equipped GPS and have VHF in back up mobile cell phones. The boats that go to Frigates or make long rides have dual engines tend to be equipped with medical kits for all emergency.
The wonder of owning a boat house orlando could be the ability to be able to freely. Your goal may be to commence in Daytona Beach, an individual don't must be stay certainly, there. In fact, that also means you don't need to buy a houseboat of one's local environment. As long as you are around the coast or have a trailer for towing, you are good to work. Unfortunately, it is difficult to travel multiple cities on Craiglist. You can spend days or hours, as you will perform individual searches on each world wide web page. Luckily, there are free search tools that will avoid the effort.
When you enter into a rent to enjoy agreement is expected that you might eventually purchase the house you are renting. The issue is oftentimes you are required to every little thing on own personal to go deep into position to buy your house. If you don't fix your credit and get their financing on the spot then you will not buy your house and you will lose your deposit. Areas will help you to get your credit in arrange. Our company for example, contains a full credit repair service which we send of which you free . They don't fix credit score for you but they'll tell you what you need to do and help yo accomplish your main.
On my back, at that very moment, a Cardinals T-shirt, one among my favorites --- a shirt that mysteriously appeared on the boat, owner unknown. One I wore for twenty-four before discovering by accident that workouts Kit's before it was mine. Definitely not was she getting it back. She didn't even ask.
#boats for sale#yachts for sale#sell a boat#buy a boat#houseboats for sale#buy a yacht#boat dealer#boat broker#yacht dealer#homes#real estate#water#travel#houseboat#yacht#self efficiency
1 note
·
View note
Text
The Power of Luck [Chapter One]
Read The Power of Luck on AO3
Masterlist [All Works]
Masterlist [The Power of Luck Series]
Written for Maribat March Day 6 - Miraculous Side Effects
The Ladybug Miraculous had quite a few side effects. Marinette was able to think quick on her feet, she was a skilled tactician in battle, and her reaction time was half that of a normal human. Most notably, the Ladybug Miraculous granted its user the force known as Miraculous Luck, which, depending on the situation, was sometimes more of a curse than a blessing. Marinette didn't get to choose how that good luck manifested. For instance, when she needed an extra day to finish a history project, her school closed down due to a gas leak. Or when she wished for a fresh start after the defeat of Hawkmoth, her parents were offered a deal to grow their bakery business in America.
Marinette assured her parents that she didn't mind moving. After all, most of her class had already moved on. Lila had been deported to Italy, narrowly avoiding jail time. Chloé (much to her dismay) was sent by her father to an all-girls boarding school in England. Adrien was taken in by his Aunt Amelie (as Gabriel was in jail and Emilie was declared brain-dead) and moved to England as well.
No one else from Marinette's class left the country, but many of them moved out of Paris. Nathanial was accepted to an elite art school in Marseille. Max was accepted to a gifted program at an elite school in Bordeaux. Officer Raincomprix was transferred to Toulouse and took Sabrina with him. Juleka and Luka both started homeschooling after their mother sailed the houseboat down the Seine to the city of Rouen.
Worst of all was the loss of Alya. Her parents were horrified that the son of Hawkmoth was in the same class as their daughter, and promptly pulled Alya out of class and decided to move out of the city. Alya begged them for weeks but nothing came of her protests. In the end, Alya left too.
The Miraculous Luck could do a lot of things, but it couldn't keep her friends together. Those who remained at François Dupont filled holes in other classes. Marinette tried to make the best of her new class, but she felt no real connection to them. When her parents proposed the move, Marinette jumped on the opportunity. In Gotham, she wouldn't be haunted by the ghost of her old life.
Marinette cut her hair, leaving it choppy and just above the shoulders. She donated all of her brightly colored clothes to the thrift store down the street and created a new wardrobe for herself. It was toned down and mature, much more fitting for Gotham.
Marinette left Paris a much different girl than the naive fourteen-year-old who thought she could save the world. She was ready for a city like Gotham, a city that didn't make any promises, a city where Marinette could set down some new roots.
-----
At first, it was easy to fly under the radar at Gotham Academy. It was a school filled with the self-absorbed children of millionaires and billionaires, after all. Marinette was there on scholarship - her good grades, leadership experience, and working-class parents combined to cut her tuition down by 75%. Marinette quickly learned that scholarship students were at best ignored, and at worst mercilessly bullied. So Marinette kept her head down and vowed that she would get through the year unscathed.
There was one variable, however, that the Miraculous Luck wasn't able to account for. Marinette's entire plan fell apart thanks to one boy: Damian Wayne.
Marinette became acquainted with Damian Wayne through the school's rumor mill. She learned that he was one of the most wealthy and most attractive people in the school, but he was thought himself too good to spend time with any of his fellow classmates (Marinette couldn't fault him on the last bit; she also found the students at Gotham Academy to be difficult, to say the least). Marinette also learned through the school's rumor mill that Damian spent quite a lot of time staring at her. Given that Damian had never paid the slightest amount of attention to a Gotham Academy girl before, this was a big deal. Suddenly Marinette was the farthest thing from under the radar. Everyone who used to look down on her wanted to be her friend. It was exhausting.
Marinette resolved to ignore Damian Wayne - an easy task, given that she still didn't even know what he looked like. Now that everyone was staring at her, it was hard to
"Why?" grumbled Marinette. "Why couldn't my so-called Miraculous Luck help me get through one normal year of school?"
Tikki shrugged from her spot inside of Marinette's backpack. "Maybe all of this attention will turn out to be a good thing?"
"I doubt that." Marinette glanced around, checking that no one had spotted her talking to her backpack. There was one spot in the cafeteria that was hidden from view, a window-sill nestled behind a pillar, bordered by a wall on one side and an out of order vending machine on the other. Marinette sat on the window-sill every day to eat lunch, with Tikki as her companion for the meal.
"I think your problem is that you're overthinking this. Miraculous Luck always works out in the end, even if there are some obstacles in the middle."
"I just want this horrible school year to be over," sighed Marinette, setting her head down in her arms.
"Don't give up yet, Marinette. I have high hopes for this school year," said Tikki.
Marinette had some serious doubts but picked her head up anyway. Maybe this year wouldn't turn out the way she expected. Marinette defeated Hawkmoth, the greatest villain Paris ever faced. She could survive a year of high school.
-----
Marinette was going to survive her senior year of high school. Damian Wayne on the other hand... Marinette still wasn't sure if she was going to let him survive the year, after everything he put her through.
"Excuse me?" a sickeningly sweet voice piped up from behind Marinette.
Marinette put on her best disinterested-face, took out one headphone, and turned around. "Yes?"
There were three girls standing behind her: a blonde, flanked on both sides by a brunette and a red-head. The blonde girl had a smile on her face but a devious look in her eyes. Marinette had long ago learned to spot manipulators, and this girl had it written all over her. "Are you Marinette Dupain-Cheng?"
"Yes."
"My name is Julie Cooper. I was just wondering... Are you dating Damian Wayne?"
Marinette huffed in exasperation. "What do you think?"
Julie's eyes narrowed. "I just wanted to warn you. I mean, did you really think that Damian Wayne would seriously date a girl here on scholarship? You should break up with him before you get hurt."
"It was a rhetorical question. I'm not dating Damian Wayne. It's just a rumor."
Julie instantly perked up. "Oh, good! I was beginning to think that Damian had lost his mind. I mean, I'm sure you would be a nine or a ten at a public school, but at Gotham Academy, you're like a seven, maybe an eight on a good day. Most of the girls who go here are actually hot, not just," the girl waved her hand towards Marinette. "Above average."
Marinette wasn't sure if Julie meant for her to feel flattered or offended, but her words had the strange effect of making Marinette feel both all at once. "Um, thanks? I'm going to go now."
Julie's brunette friend suddenly paled as the girl started to tug on Julie's sleeve. "Um, Julie?" she whispered.
"What, Nora?" Julie's eyes widened as they fixed on something behind Marinette.
Marinette turned around to see what the cause of their concern was. Or rather, to see who the cause of their concern was. It was a boy, tall and scowling. "Are you done here, Cooper?"
Julia nodded, a nervous edge to her voice, "Bye, Marinette." She and her two friends hurried off, exchanging frantic whispers.
"What do you want?" asked Marinette with a sigh. She was tired of dealing with boys who were only interested in her because Damian Wayne was interested in her.
"I wished to apologize."
"For Julie? Did you put her up to this?"
The boy looked confused. "No, of course not. I meant that I wanted to apologize for everything, not just Julie Cooper."
"For everything?" The truth suddenly dawned on Marinette. "You're Damian Wayne! I didn't think that you would be so tall."
"You didn't know what I looked like?" There was real shock in his voice.
"Well, by the time I learned that you had been staring at me everyone was staring at me, so that wasn't much help in figuring out who you were."
"You could have googled me."
Marinette shrugged. "I could have, but it felt weird to google one of my classmates. I pretty much just resigned myself to never figuring out who you were."
"I should have approached you sooner. I've wanted to apologize for a while, but every time I've caught you alone you've looked like you wanted to be left that way."
"I'm not a fan of most of the students here."
"The students here can be..." Damian searched for the appropriate word. "Tiresome. I resigned myself to a dull four years of high school in their company. That is, until I saw you."
Marinette cocked her head. "Why me, though? I'm nothing special."
"You're different than everyone else here."
Marinette stiffened. "I know. I've been told. I'm here on a scholarship which means I don't belong," she snapped
Damian shook his head. "No, that's not what I meant. You move through life differently than all of the other students here. You don't care about the gossip or drama - at least, not until you were right at the center of it all. You've seen the real world, so you float above the high school drama. You're just so... so..."
"So what?" Marinette's tone softened.
Damian ran his hand through his hair, ruffling it. The addition of the messy hair added a certain charm to his otherwise polished exterior. "I've been brainstorming for the right word for weeks. The best I can come up with is pure. You don't let yourself become affected by anything in this school."
It was a very flattering description of her. It was also very on the nose. "I'll forgive you, Damian Wayne, but only on one condition."
"What?"
"I want to get to know you, and I have a feeling that you feel the same way."
Damian nodded. "It's a deal."
Maybe her Miraculous Luck wasn't so useless after all. Marinette had expected to go the whole year without making a single friend. Now, it seemed that she might make one after all.
@maribatmarch-2k21
#maribat#daminette#Marinette Dupain-Cheng#Damian Wayne#MaribatMarch2021#maridami#marinette x damian#miraculous ladybug fic#my work
346 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
er3mos-blog
The Exhausted Majority
pablo20925
Pablo
ghostlyreverie
Ghostly Reverie Cosplays
mejoresherramientas
Mejores Herramientas
tintotx
♡｡◕‿‿◕｡♡ Tintotx :]