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mileycfan4eva33 · 3 years

Text

Fandom: One Chicago and SVU

Title: Silence Equals Death

Chapter 1: Dear Diary

P O V: Sylvie Brett

A/N: Boy, I am getting sick of these things. But, I'm too paranoid not to write it down. Here are the usual disclaimers, I do not own any of the One Chicago/Or SVU characters that glory goes to Dick Wolf and NBC. Trigger warning for a sexual assault/ rape towards the end. Whose Point of View would you like chapter two to be in; Kelly's, Matt's, Stella's or Kat's, Or Hailey's? This fic will be told through multiple views and be a joint between PD/ Fire and SVU. Reviews are fires to my soul; please leave one. Thank You.

Gaffney Chicago Medical Center

Dear Diary, today is January 31, 2021; it is 12:56 am; I am in Chicago Med. I have to write this all down before it becomes a twisted blur of fragmented memories. Tonight was a nightmare, and a dream all rolled into one. Sitting here now on this cold steel trap of a bed, I am in disbelief that any of this happened, but it did, and it shouldn't have; if I had been smarter, more robust, less drunk, none of this would have happened. I only have myself to blame. It all started so innocently.

Now everything is such a mess; how did this happen? I am not a lovesick teenager, and I shouldn't be making these types of mistakes. If only I could turn back time and not get so damn drunk, but I can't, so here it is, the sick truth of what will surely end my career. The authentic story as only someone who lived it can ever tell it. No Disney fair-tales here, just honest raw truths, every word you will read is what happened to the best of my recollection someday I will gone, and I want my truth out there, so no woman ever has to bear witness to the pain of being raped, and thrown away as if she is the villain.

I am not the villain, but can I say I was a victim?

Sofitel Chicago Magnificent Mile

20 E Chestnut St, Chicago, IL 60611

January 30th 2021 9:35 pm

"My money's on you finding exactly what you want."

Matthew Casey's rugged, sexy voice purrs in my ear. I can't remember when he said that or why the hell he said it; my mind is toasted with the large amount of alcohol I have poured into my body. I can remember what he said after, though, because it's what I deserve. Matt had no idea back then that all I wanted was for him to say he loved me, to tell me I am beautiful. To reassure me that these butterflies I have been feeling forever are not just in my stomach, not only carrying my heart away, but they are in his as well.

He didn't, not then and never since it's been at least two years since he said those words to me. Two years since I felt a brief flutter inside my heart telling me that my feelings for Matt had changed from friendship to something a little less platonic. "God, there ain't enough alcohol inside this damn hotel to take my memory away from this pain."

"I hear ya' sis." Stella Kidd motions for the bartender to bring us two more rounds as she settles against the counter inches away from me, her elbows propping her up. "You look flushed, Brett. Are you feeling okay?" Stella's gorgeous brown eyes are wide in concern as she glances at my body my cheeks are burning, I can feel the heat descending from my head to my face making me sway in dizziness a little as I try to remember how to breathe. Funny how a normal body function can sometimes take so much damn effort it hurts. I need a minute to do nothing, not to feel, think, talk, react or breathe, but of course, I can't have that minute, not with Stella on the case. "Yeah, girl, why wouldn't I be okay?" I fake a laugh, which I don't think fools her even for a second.

"Uh, I am so over these damn things Sylvie, I thought with COVID we would escape this bullshit this year." Stella slides down my shot glass to me as she tilts her head back and chugs her shot of whiskey with one gulp. "Yeah, I would have thought so too; nothing I hate more than a bunch of grown-ass corporate men in suits pretending to give two craps about us little people."

"Amen, sister." Stella clicks her empty glass against mine before I tilt my head back and swallow the rush of warmth that leaves me dizzier; maybe I shouldn't have skipped two meals today before coming here after having no food yesterday. "So what's up with you and Kelly?" I turn my head to my right to catch Stella's eyes, glued to her boyfriend Kelly Severide, chatting with District Chief Steve Walker. Fire Commissioner Carl Grissom and the Deputy Director of Finance Gail McLeod. "Kelly's looking dapper Stella; I think someone is going to get lucky tonight." I hold my hand up to signal the bartender for another round; he fills our glasses quickly, much to my pleasure. "Yeah, from your lips to Kelly's ears, please, he's barely touched me ever since he found out that some people may take offense to me being promoted because we're together."

"Aw, man, I'm sorry he's probably just worried Stella, he loves you Kelly doesn't want to be the reason you fail because we all know you deserve this promotion. At least he cares enough to say the words out loud." I swallow the shot feeling my eyes burn badly as tears filter out. "Aw man, this shit is strong. Phew!" shaking my body out, I signal for another, hearing Stella laugh. "Still regretting telling Matt how you feel?"

I pause for a moment before I answer; how should I respond? Do I regret telling Matt how I feel? "Hey bitches." I'm saved from answering as Leslie Shay comes stumbling over, wrapping her arm over my shoulder and squeezing between us, holding her phone up with her left hand. "Smile bitches." Stella and I hold our full shot glasses up. I love this bartender; he is on his game tonight; we smile and lean into Shay, who is reeking of Tequila. "Give me some love, sugar babes." Yeah, she is drunk, sugar babes? Where did she even come up with that one? We smile brighter even though neither one of us feel happy at this moment; her eyes are on Kelly, who isn't even looking our way, and I lock my eyes on Matt, who is dancing with some woman I have never seen in my life.

The woman is drop-dead gorgeous though five-foot-nine inches is my guess she appears to be Lebanese or Latino with long caramel hair flowing down her back past her waist the silk wrap dress she is wearing clings to every unique curve on her flawless body. Matt's arms are wrapped around her waist he's dancing close with her, my heart races so fast I feel the room sway. "Love is a journey, Sylvie, don't give up yet. I know this moment sucks. I get it hurts worse than anything you've ever experienced. When it gets too heavy, when it feels like the weight of this pain is crushing you, remember the pleasant moments, the breathless enthusiastic moments. Matt's alive, and so are you as long as you live, there is hope."

I wish I could smile at Shay as a thank you, but I can't muster the strength even to attempt a smile. Seeing Matt dancing with this woman is killing me slowly; who is she? Where did they meet? Why did he choose tonight to bring her on a date? Knowing I would be at this stupid First Responders training shit, is he trying to make me jealous?

"Your Casey is out there, Sylvie, but you don't have to change who you are to find him." Gabby's words from five years ago come back to me; she did not know just how right she was when she said them to me; hell, I didn't even know back then that the man who I would want to be by my side forever, the man who I would spend countless sleepless nights crying my heart out over was her Casey. Talk to God, Sylvie, get your head straight; this is crazy pinning over a man you pushed away yourself.

Sometimes I feel so cold the way steel must feel left outside to fend for itself against the weather elements. Some days I feel broken, I forget what living is for, I forget how to breathe or even why I should keep living. Today is one of those nights; seeing Matt with this woman is breaking me; I can feel every string of my heart aching, pulling, and twisting as it stretches my entire inside into a giant trampoline my stomach turns and painfully contracts reminding me.

I am alive

Every ache and every pain reminds me I am breathing, but why I can't seem to grasp it. I'm not suicidal, but I'm finding it hard to find a reason to keep my head up when my brain is screaming at me to run away, to bury myself in Tequila and cuddle under the covers till all of the daylight fades away into a blur of a drunken haze.

"Another shot, bartender."

"Name is Josh." I turn away, not caring, seeing only Matt as he lifts his finger to wipe out a stray hair off the woman's face. I can barely breathe every effort is a raspy painful burn that leaves me gasping, trying to fight off this fresh wave of tears. "Close your eyes, Sylvie, and fucking hold it together for a few more minutes; for God's sake, don't let the man see you cry."

Shay slips her arm around my back under my armpits, quickly leading me out of the ballroom where the music is playing louder than what you would expect at a training seminar. "Remember what I said to picture the pleasant moments." "I can't, Shay..I... can't breathe." "Shh, hey, it's okay. I got you." Shay gently settles me onto a couch inside the ladies' room, handing me a cold bottle of water, which she's already taken a few sips out. Still, she lifts to my lips before I can stop her; the cool liquid splashes over my chin, dripping down what gets inside my mouth is refreshing and helps cool me off, allowing me to breathe easier. Leaning back against the wall, I close my eyes, trying to regain some gravity; my knees are trembling, leaving me feeling as if I will collapse if I try to stand.

I want to kick myself for falling so hard for a damn guy who I knew would never love me back. I knew I shouldn't have pushed Matt, yet I ignored every one of my instincts and went full sped ahead. God, I will remember that day forever- I had been avoiding Matt for days ever since the accident. Mainly because I had my suspicions that Matt hadn't just been lucky in getting to me so quickly, part of me hoped and yes, as vain as it sounds prayed that Matt had raced to me, that the thought of me being in peril had somehow overcome Matt's heart running his blood in fear.

I told myself I was crazy even to think such stupid school girl thoughts. Matt is our captain; it made perfect sense he would be worried about Gianna and me; we're part of his team, nothing more. The job of the captain is to make sure all of his team comes home safe at the end of every shift; Matt's lost too many people in his days, he fears losing anyone, so of course, the entire team raced to us when they heard 61 was in an accident.

I had myself convinced Matt came to me out of loyalty out of duty, not because he was in love with me, I am stupid for even thinking for one mil-la-second that Matthew Casey would ever love me as anything except a friend. I was doing so damn well, too, until Blake Gallo blew up all my rationalization with his account of how Matt jumped out of a moving truck to get to me. Me, not myself and Gianna but only me. Brett, I have to get to Brett, that's what Gallo recalled Matt saying.

Shattered

Read more and please leave a review at https://m.fanfiction.net/s/13807832/1/Silence-Equals-Death

#chicagofire #fanfiction #onechicago #chicagopd #karakillmer #svu #sylviebrett #brettsey #mattcasey #metoo #rape #leslieshay #kidnapping #katazartamin #amandarolins

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lonelypond · 3 years

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Parent Trap, Ch. 6

NicoMaki, Love Live, 3.8K, 6/?

Summary: More things happen in the wrong order.

Girls On Film

Eli had texted that Nico had stopped by the office, upset, so Eli would be home too late for dinner. Nozomi frowned as the evening went on and the twins restlessness increased. So she sat them down with their own decks of playing cards, pulled out her Tarot cards and focused on Eli.

Lovers, always The Lovers, always connected with Eli. Magician Reversed, that was a little concerning. Something not going according to plan...followed by a reversed Ten Of Cups, the idyllic family scene overturned, conflicting values...Nozomi frowned and dealt another card: Queen Of Wands. That was a relief. Or a call to face up to something. But definitely an argument that even if Nozomi’s current path hit a few bumps, there was confidence in her decision.

“Mommy?”

Vik, ever sensitive to mood, sat next to Nozomi. Teddy was using both decks to build a card tunnel.

“Yes, Vik.”

“Is Mama mad at you?”

Vik always got to the point. They were extremely reliable about finding the one nagging weakness in either Nozomi or Eli’s arguments about anything and skewering it, directly on target.

“No, Auntie Nico just wanted to talk to her.”

“Is Auntie Nico mad at you?”

Nozomi chuckled, that was the question that kept coming back to her mind. “I don’t know, Рыбка (sweetie), maybe…”

Vik pointed at the Queen Of Wands, “That’s a Queen? She has short hair like me.”

“Yes, she does.”

“Is she friendly?”

Nozomi bobbed her head, debating how to reply. Vik had been showing more interest in the Tarot recently, “Friendly, but firm if you’ve messed up.”

“Like Mama.”

Nozomi couldn’t hold in the belly laugh as Vik spoke exactly what she’d been thinking.

“MOMMY!!! Look at this.” Teddy was waving frantically at her tunnel, tilting precariously at the start. “Take a picture for Mama.”

“Okay, Солнце (Sunshine).” Nozomi grabbed her phone, Vik sliding into her seat to examine the cards closer.

###

Nico hadn’t texted or called. Maki had to force herself to stop pacing next to Dia’s crib when she got her tucked in for the night. Dia had been fussy all day, but with no nap, actually fell asleep easily. Maybe a long soak was would be relaxing. Maki turned on the baby monitor, set up candles, dropped a lavender bath bomb, but couldn’t get Nico out of her mind. The mood had been so strange. Nico and her mother had obviously been having a private, complicated conversation and Maki couldn’t ignore the gut feeling that it was about her.

Maki really liked Nico. And although that morning in Philly had been intense, it hadn’t felt rushed. Nico had just made a safe space for them, for Maki to express what she wanted. What she really wanted. And really wanted again and again, which was an unusual feeling for her. The few times she’d been physically intimate with a potential partner, there had been affection, but no urgency about what next. Not seeing Nico, thinking maybe that this time Nico was the one indifferent, lacking urgency, that actually seemed to hurt. And Maki needed to know that she was guessing wrong about Nico’s feelings.

Panic stripped away subtext. And she sent the text before she could reread it.

M: Was today too much? Dia just really wanted to see you.

M: So did I. I’ve been looking forward to you being back in Chicago so we could ….

M: But we didn’t have to rush into the family thing...with your Mom...I can do casual…

Maki reread what she’d sent. And dropped her phone on the tray next to the bath. Too much, too clingy...Nico was going to forget Maki’s number and be on the way to her next, non clingy post concert groupie as soon as she could…

###

Nico stared intently at the screen of her phone, willing Eli to text her that Nozomi was crushed by the weight of guilt and Maki was fine with Nico continuing to court her....court her. Nico raspberried herself...this wasn’t courting, this was Nico wanting everything with the hot, fascinating, really into Nico Maki Nishikino...but what if Dia already happened to be theirs? Because of something Nozomi did. That would weird Maki out, make everything strange, and Nico had been sensing Maki leaning toward psyching herself out. Nico had been hoping getting back to Chicago would let Nico get them back on track, but what could Nico say if she saw Maki, without stumbling over Dia.

Maki’s text tone. Eli was weak and hadn’t done anything yet, she was probably driving around in circles pyching herself up to talk to Nozomi. And Eli had impressed upon Nico exactly how much grief Maki’s parents' lawyers could make for both of them, making Nico swear not to talk to Maki until Eli did. But Eli was weak… And Maki was texting.

M: But we didn’t have to rush into the family thing...with your Mom...I can do casual…

Nico had done casual a couple of times. She didn’t want it. She wanted the connection she felt when Maki looked at her, the openness, the vulnerability, the trust....and from what little Maki had said about her dating life prior to Nico, Nico guessed that intimacy had led to cooling off, so Maki was probably freaking out ‘cause Nico had been blowing her off all day. But not because of Maki reasons…

Nico’s promise to Eli wasn’t as important as Maki. Maki obviously needed emotional aftercare. Nico hit call.

“Nico?”

Maki sounded like she’d been caught mid yawn. It was adorable.

“Hi, Maki. Sorry I didn’t get back to you about takeout. Had to talk to Eli.”

“Is everything all right, Nico?” Nico heard a splash? Was Maki in the bath? The phone was obviously on speaker.

“Nico would like to join you in the bath.”

Maki laughed, it was euphoric, Nico was so hooked, Maki's voice hit Nico in all the good places. “They used to do that in movies, talk on the phone in their separate bubble baths, put their feet up, show off some leg.”

“Nico would love to see that.”

“So would I.” A little bit shy. Nico was beginning to forget why she’d been reluctant to call Maki.

“I’m in bed…”

“What’d you have for dinner.”

“Didn’t.”

“You sound like me in med school.”

“What were you like in med school? Were you buried in books? Or bodies? Dating cute nurses? Would you even have noticed Nico ten years ago?”

“How could anyone not notice Nico?”

“That’s what Nico always says…” Nico seized on an idea, maybe she could actually keep their conversation clear of things that Nico wasn’t ready to talk about, “What would we have talked about ten years ago?”

“I had this terrible roommate.”

“Really?”

“Really. Wild party animal, had to barricade myself in my room.” Maki sounded more amused than upset.

“You snuck into the parties, didn’t you?”

A pause, what might be towel noises. Nico desperately wanted a video call, “Maybe…but then my grades dropped and I moved back home.”

Keep this vibe going, Nico told herself. “So what did you do for fun after your brush with the wild side?”

“Piano. And Rin and I played soccer in a league. That was fun.”

“Nico bets you looked cute in your uniform.”

Sexy indignation that made Nico want to rip off whatever Maki had covered herself with, “ I looked HOT, Nico, I was 22 and in great shape.”

“You’re still in great shape, Nico knows.”

A giggle, a pause, two people syncing up again.

“What were you like ten years ago?” Maki asked softly, her voice a frisson in Nico's ear.

“Too busy for anything. Constantly on tour. Studying finance on the side. I got my economics degree over six years. Magna cum laude.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“Nico planned to be a success. Now the suits can’t say Nico doesn’t know how business works.”

“Impressive.” Maki breathed.

‘Nico strives.”

###

10 p.m. Nozomi was getting worried. Eli was never out this late. Nozomi had let the twins roughhouse past their bedtime because whenever Eli got home, there was going to be a serious conversation. Although the cards had been full of warnings about that, Nozomi knew the truth in her gut before she dealt out the spread.

Key in the door, sigh as Eli closed it behind her. Eli, looking tired, wearing glasses, she’d been crying. She stopped, clear gaze meeting Nozomi’s.

“I’ve hurt my oldest friend, exposed myself to litigation, and could lose my practice. Was that what you meant to happen, Nozomi?”

Nozomi winced.

Eli had her hands shoved in the pockets of her overcoat, “What were you thinking?”

“About?”

“Nozomi.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Eli. Has Nico been lying about me?”

Eli glared, her jaw set, nostrils flared. “If this is how you’re going to behave, I’ll be in the guest room.”

“That upsets the twins. Can’t you just pretend to fall asleep on the couch again?” Nozomi knew this was not the ideal way to react, but with Eli so serious, she found an edge of panic pushing her to impulsive speech.

“Nozomi…” Eli’s hands were warm and strong as she held Nozomi’s, “Please just explain why you altered Nico’s paperwork.”

“I had a feeling.”

“Nico was crying. Maki’s going to be livid.”

Nozomi felt a twinge of guilt, sure, but she also knew that everything would work out. This must be about Dia. Nico and Maki were getting along, that was obvious from Nico’s texts to Eli. Surely they could sort it out.

“I’d like to say something to Maki that doesn’t just sound like my wife played a stupid prank. Please, Nozomi, help me understand.”

Nozomi giggled, “I had a feeling, Eli. The cards had told me there would be a change in Nico’s fortunes and then I saw her in your office…she obviously wants a family, Eli, she always has, you told me that. I just want to help the universe give her one. Just let them work it out."

Eli had no reply. When Nozomi doubled down on ‘the cards’ and intuition, there was no opening for Eli to logic her out of her beliefs. And the damnable thing was, it always worked out. But this wasn’t their life, this was Nico and Maki and Dia’s. Nozomi had been wrong to meddle. And left Eli terribly vulnerable.

Too exhausted to argue or strategize any more, Eli tossed her coat on the couch. “I’m going to bed. I have to talk to Maki tomorrow.”

“Did you eat?”

Eli shrugged.

“It will work out, Eli. Have faith."

Eli shook her head, “Good night, love.”

A too quick kiss on the cheek, leaving Nozomi alone, to curl up in Eli’s coat, on a corner of the couch, unpleasantly surprised by Eli’s intransigence. Had she gone too far this time?

###

A long afternoon, Maki finally getting a chance to look at her phone. Message from Raye, Dia’s nanny. Dia fussy and running a fever, over a hundred. Maki bit her lip. That might explain yesterday’s fit of temper and how easily Dia fell asleep last night.

“Dr. Nishikino?” The lab tech came around the corner.

“What’s up, Kadir?”

“Do you want to see the results of Mx. Nabe’s bloodwork?”

Maki glanced at her smart watch. Her shift was over twenty minutes ago. And the late dinner with Nico was now probably not going to happen. “Let me check something.” Maki walked confidently to the call board. Tonight’s on call orthopedic surgeon was Dr. Wilhimena Mae Tompkins. Top of the line. Maki’s first or second choice. “Just send them to Dr. Tompkins. The patient’s already been moved to a room, right?”

“Orderlies just took her upstairs.”

“Guess I’m done here then. Dia’s running a fever so I’ve got one more patient to see.” Maki winked, Kadir grinned.

“See you in a couple days then, Doc. And I hope Dia feels better.”

“Thanks. I’m sure it’s nothing. She’s probably teething.”

Now to text Nico.

###

Nico hadn’t heard from Eli all day. Obviously Eli had chickened out. Like Nico expected. Time for a call. Eli picked up.

“Are you hiding from your wife in your office?”

“Shut up, Nico.”

“Don’t talk to Nico like that. You promised Nico you’d talk to Maki. Have you talked to Maki?”

No reply.

“Eli.”

“I’m still working out what to say.”

“Start with, I really didn’t mean for my nosy, pushy, annoying hussy of a wife to…”

“Don’t talk about Nozomi like that.”

NIco sighed, “C’mon, Eli. Nozomi is currently on the bottom of Nico’s friend list. I’m not going to be nice.”

“She’s my wife, Nico. It’s complicated.”

“What is happening to Nico is complicated. You’re just not willing to deal with the consequences of your wife’s intrusive, illegal, apocalyptic meddling. Nico could sue.”

“Yes, you could.” Eli sounded so tired, but Nico had zero sympathy for the enabler.

“Talk to Maki or I will.”

“Nico.”

End call. Before Nico could put her phone down, Maki’s text tone pinged.

M: Dia’s got a fever. I’m heading home. We'll have to postpone dinner ●︿●

N: Nico will bring dinner over (っ˘ڡ˘ς)

M: Pizza?

Nico chuckled.

N: Whatever the sexy doctor wants.

M: Pizza ᕕ[ ᓀ ڡ ᓂ ]ㄏ─∈

M: And you （＾_-）

N: Is an hour good?

M: Sure.

N: See both my best girls then.

Nico hit Eli’s number.

“Tell Maki.”

“Tomorrow.”

“Eli.”

“I’m drafting a presentation to explain right now.”

“Include a big picture of Nozomi with an arrow pointing to guilty.”

“Good night, Nico.”

“Talk to Maki, Eli. Or Nico talks to lawyers.”

Eli seemed more concerned about Nico and the Nishikino’s lawyers than what Nozomi’s action had cost Nico. Eli continued to fail, freefalling down Nico’s friend list. Another call. Mama. Nico let that go to voicemail. Maybe she should forward that voicemail and the three before it to Eli. Maybe then Eli would realize some of the pressure Nico was feeling.

###

Nico knocked. Maki was right there, opening the door, in a showcasing all her curves casual combo of black leggings and a mostly undone gray henley. She waved Nico into the wide open family room that seemed to make up at least 70% of the first floor of the carriage house. A baby grand was tucked into a windowed corner, a huge sectional sofa was centered and facing the fireplace, and the walls were decorated with seasonal photos of a shrine and what looked like birds and dragons restored from antique wooden screens. Set a calm, classy mood.

“So are the Disney movie posters in your bedroom, Cinderella?” Nico bounced up to kiss Maki.

Maki smiled, “I took these photos myself, during some visits to Kyoto and Tokyo, before med school, and the screens are damaged family heirlooms I restored sections of.”

“Hands on decorating.”

“I want Dia to grow up with her heritage around her.”

Silent, Nico walked around the sectional, putting the pizza boxes on the wood and glass table, not sure what to say about Dia.

“She’s feeling better, I think. Her fever went down.” Maki leaned on the sofa back.

“Good.”

“Want to check in on her and say hello before we eat?”

Nico deflected. “Pizza first?”

Maki opened the box with Carmen’s excellent stuffed pesto pizza. A garlic smell wafted out with the steam, filling the room, “It’s still hot.”

“Nico delivered pizzas for a summer. I know the tricks.”

“Nico knows a lot. Let's say good night to Dia.” Maki slid her arm through Nico’s, stealing a quick kiss and half dragging Nico to the stairs.

###

Dia’s nursery was blue and green and white, with a sea and lighthouse theme. Fish and mammals and turtles played on the walls. In the low light of the nightlight, there was an almost bioluminescent glow to the undersea residents.

“Nico is surprised Little Mermaid wasn’t a choice when we talked Disney movies.”

“Don’t like that one…” Maki muttered.

“No, it’d be hard to lose your voice.”

“And music.”

“Yeah. Nico would hate that.”

They stood at the crib, Nico staring down at Dia, Maki watching Nico, Nico trying not to remember Cotaro in his crib, dark hair, serious face...Dia was relaxed, arms flung out, a tiny smile on her face.

What if they were in their house, standing together, Maki and Nico, both of them, looking at a child they’d had together after a whirlwind courtship and marriage? What if this were Nico’s house and when Dia woke up, she looked at Nico, saying “Momma,” and reaching up for a hug? What if…?

“She’s beautiful.” Nico whispered and then her breath hitched and sudden water in her eyes stung. She let go of the crib and rushed to the door.

“Good night, Dia. We’ll see you tomorrow.” Maki left the lightest of kisses on her daughter’s forehead, wondering if she’d seen tears in Nico’s eyes. But Nico was already downstairs, considering the stuffed pizzas.

“Do you want pesto or sausage? And we need plates. And forks. And…”

“I’ve had stuffed pizza before, Nico. Just give me a minute to find the pie server.”

###

Cocoa had raved about a movie called The Half Of It so Nico suggested they watch that. Maki had recognized it, but said Nico needed to watch Saving Face, director Alice Wu’s first movie, about a doctor and a dancer and their families.

“You’ll love the mom. She’s so funny.”

“And the main character’s a doctor? So Nico will find out what doctoring is like?”

“Yep.”

The movie progressed; the pizza was eaten, with occasional garlic flavored kisses shared, but Maki kept picking up unease from Nico. Was it lingering from yesterday, the obvious tension between Nico and her mom? Or whatever Nico and Eli had talked about last night? Something obviously had claimed some of Nico’s attention. But after pizza, Maki had curled up next to Nico, encouraging Nico to drop her arm around Maki’s shoulder. And as the flirting between Wil and Vivian got sexier, kisses and more intimate gestures right there on the screen, building a mood, Maki could feel Nico pull her closer. Maki nudged Nico on the cheek, getting her to turn, tempting her into a luring, longing kiss. Whatever worries had been on Nico’s mind had been eclipsed, Maki smiling as she felt agile hands slide under her shirt, warm against bare skin, Nico murmuring endearments between kisses and shiver inducing nibbles along Maki’s neck and jaw.

And then Nico’s phone went off, one of her raps.

“Damn it.” Nico grabbed for her phone, Maki falling down on the couch when Nico let go, “It’s Cocoro’s emergency tone. Sorry.” And all Nico’s attention was on the call, “What’s up? Nico’s super busy....Yes, Maki and Dia came to the house yesterday. Did Mama tell you?”

Dia? Alert, Maki sat up.

Nico was listening. “What did Mama say...why...no, we can’t say that….Nico won’t let…”

Maki had no idea why Nico’s sister had anything to say about Dia. Nico had turned away, about to get off the couch, Maki reached over Nico’s shoulder, pulling the phone away, switching it to speaker.

“Why are you talking about my daughter?”

“Dr. Nishikino?” Cocoro’s voice was tense, “You’re there? Good, then we can settle what the language should be.”

“What language? Why does Nico have anything to do with Dia?”

Nico grunted, it reminded Maki of someone stubbing a toe.

“Pictures have been circulating on TWIG of Nico Yazawa’s secret daughter.”

“Nico doesn’t have a secret daughter…” Maki suddenly realized she was doing all the talking, “Nico?”

Nico took her phone back, leaving it on speaker, but switching to the TWIG app. A quick search of “#Nico” brought up a snap of Nico hugging Dia in front of her house, Nico’s mother in the background, Maki nowhere to be seen.

Nico stared. Cocoro continued to panic chatter, “All we need to do is release a picture of you, Dr. Nishikino, Dr. Nishikino’s daughter, and the statement that you and Dr. Nishikino are dating and Dia is not your daughter. People are running facial match software and getting confirmation. Next they’ll be wondering who the father is…”

“Dia doesn't have a father,” Maki’s fists clenched. No one but Eli was supposed to have any details of her pregnancy with Dia.

“Shut up. Both of you.” Nico snapped, the phone dropping to the couch, Nico’s head dropping into her hands.

“Just tell them Dia’s my daughter.”

Cocoro's tone brightened. “Dr. Nishikino is being unexpectedly helpful, Nico. We can get ahead of this.”

“Just release the statement, Cocoro. Nico and I can talk to the press.” A practical solution, Maki decided.

“Let Nico think. Both of you. Just be quiet. Nico needs quiet.” Nico ended the call.

“Nico, Dia is my daughter. We can just tell everyone. We don’t have to keep us dating a secret. I don’t care what my parents think.” Maki sat next to Nico, brushing fingers through Nico’s hair.

There was a long pause, Nico enjoying Maki's touch. Then she pulled away. “Maki could just marry me. That might save Nico.” Nico sounded like someone hanging onto a building ledge by a ladder made of split fingernails and cruel laughter.

Nico’s tone and odd behavior scared Maki, “How can you joke about that, Nico?”

Nico raised her head, tears streaming down her face, “You don’t know this yet, but Nico is a terrible liar.”

“What does that mean Nico? Do you have a secret daughter…”

“Maki…”

Maki’s ringtone went off. She glanced at her phone, “It’s Eli.”

Nico dropped her head again, “Answer it. We might as well blow everything up.”

Maki hit speaker, snarling, “What is it, Eli? Want to let me know Dia is Nico’s daughter too?”

“Oh good,” Eli sounded relieved, “Nico told you.”

Maki was on her feet, shouting, “NICO TOLD ME WHAT?!!!???!!!”

“About her paperwork? And Nozomi? I'm really sorry, Maki.”

Maki felt pale. Her knees wobbled. The room unfocused. Black spots dotting everything. Nico ended the call.

Before Maki could fall, Nico was there, “Maki? C’mon, breathe. Take it slow, breathe for Nico.”

Maki shook off Nico, and ran upstairs to Dia, pulling her out of her crib, holding her tightly, Dia blinking, confused. Nico was there, almost instantly.

“Can we talk?”

“Go away, Nico.”

“Maki. Please.”

“GO AWAY NOW, NICO!” Maki screamed. “Leave us alone.”

Dia started to cry.

Nico stepped back, “Call me later, please, Maki. Or let Eli explain. I’ll have Cocoro tell everyone Dia’s your daughter. I’m sorry this happened like this." A pause, Nico reaching a hand out, almost touching them. "It’ll be all right, Dia.”

“Don’t tell Dia anything.” Maki growled, Dia pressed against her as she glared at Nico, daring her to come any closer.

Retreating into the hall, Nico forced tears back, or she’d be wailing as loud as Dia. How had this gone so wrong?

A/N: Rainy, moody weather.

#NicoMaki #baby Dia #Nishikino Maki #Yazawa Nico #NozoEli #Ayase Eli #Tojo Nozomi #Single Parent AU #angsty

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 4 years

Text

Love Her (Part 12)

Summary: A few days before the reader starts college, she and Dean have an important discussion. While at school, the reader bumps into a familiar face and the family grows even bigger...

Masterlist

Pairing: Doctor!Dean x foster daughter!reader

Word Count: 4,400ish

Warnings: language, mentions of death, fluff (yes, that’s a warning)

______

Eight Months Later

“Hey, cuties,” said Ana as she carried some lemonade out to the backyard. You lifted your head up from where you were wrestling with Ryan in the grass. “Come on. Time for a little snack break and then we’re gonna go swimming at Uncle Sam’s.”

Ryan took a glass from her and gave you a smirk.

“We’ll finish this later, tough guy,” you said, ruffling his hair as you stood up, Ana giving you a nod. “I’ll be back.”

You headed inside and washed up, going to your room for a minute before you went out to the garage and found Dean working on Baby.

“Hey,” you said. “We’re going swimming at Sam’s in a minute.”

“I just want to finish swapping out this part. I’ll be over in a minute, sweetheart,” he said.

“Alright. Don’t take forever,” you said. He waved you off and you got changed, Dean eventually coming inside as Ana took the twins over to Sam’s place. You hung back and waited for Dean, watching him pop out into the kitchen with the cooler a few minutes later.

“You waiting for me?” he asked.

“I wanted to talk to you,” you said, grabbing a manila folder from the end of the couch. “More legal stuff came in the mail today.”

“Someday we will be done with paperwork,” he said. “You want to bring it over Sam’s and have him look at it?”

“I think you should look first,” you said, sliding it across the kitchen counter.

He shook his head and tore it open, pulling out the stack of papers and flipping them around. He stared at them for only a second before his head snapped in your direction.

“These are adoption papers.”

“I know. Sam helped me file them,” you said.

“Sweetheart,” he said, opening his mouth to say more but he just kept on staring at you.

“I’m ready. I’ve been ready for a long time. But we had all of the stuff with what had happened with my dad and him paying off Paula and…” you said, taking a deep breath. “I technically had two dads before. One I never knew. He was a decent guy but mom didn’t go with him. I wish she had because she’d still be here. But she didn’t and that was her choice. And the other one...he hurt me and he threatened my family. But I decided a while ago that I didn’t have a dad until I got here. You’re the dad I always wanted the twins to have. A nice one that takes care of them when they’re sick and helps with homework and plays with them and he doesn’t get angry for them being kids. You made them feel safe and loved and that’s all I wanted for them. I was mean and a brat and you gave me all of that too, no matter what I did. I don’t know why it took so long to admit to myself that I love you and that I want you to be my dad too. I think I was afraid. But that’s stupid because when I’m scared, you’re always there for me. So I shouldn’t ever be afraid of you. Or Ana. You let me be a kid again and you let me be an adult and I just really love you and I really want you to be my dad and Ana to be my mom cause she’s awesome and you better get your ass in gear and marry her soon.”

You wiped off your face, Dean smiling softly at you.

“What?” you said, sniffling some. “You better say yes.”

“It’s a yes,” he said, walking over and hugging you. “It’s been a yes since you walked in that door.”

“Good,” you said. “That’s good.”

“I know this is your surprise and all but I have my own if that’s okay,” he said. You tilted your head but nodded, following him to his office where he opened a drawer and pulled out a set of keys. “It was going to be a surprise next week when you start classes but Ana and I bought you a new car for school.”

“You bought me a car?” you asked as he handed over the keys.

“I know I said we’d pick out something used this weekend but...we want you in something safe. I worry if you couldn’t tell,” he chuckled.

“That’s too much,” you said, trying to hand the keys back.

“Give your new dad a little peace of mind and take the car, sweetheart,” he said. You bit your bottom lip and nodded. “Can you give me a second and then we’ll head over to Sam’s?”

“Okay,” you said, turning to go when he hugged you again.

“No. Stay. Just give me a second, sweetheart,” he said as he kissed the top of your head. “Been waiting a long time for this.”

“Okay, dad,” you said.

“Don’t you dare make me cry,” he said.

“What are you gonna do about it, dad?” you said, sniffling into his shirt with a laugh.

“You can be such a little shit sometimes,” he said, his voice cracking. “I love you so fucking much kid you don’t even know.”

“I know,” you said. “I always knew.”

“Thank you for giving me the chance to prove it to you,” he said. “And for fixing something in me I can’t really explain.”

“Thank you. For everything,” you said.

“Ready to be a Winchester?” he asked.

“I’m more than ready.”

One Week Later

“Hey, Y/N,” you heard as you lifted your head up in the library. You blinked your eyes a few times and spotted a pair of cute blue ones staring back.

“Tommy?” you said with a smile. He blushed and nodded. “What are you doing here?”

“I uh, I’m getting my four year degree. I’m still working as a cop. I just figured...I really like drawing,” he said. You cocked your head and he laughed. “Sorry. That night I remember you saying you wanted to be happy. Drawing makes me happy. I wanted to finish my degree.”

“Good for you,” you said.

“So you pick out a major? I saw you in biology lecture earlier. I have to take a science and that one seemed the easiest,” he said.

“I’m majoring in criminology,” you said.

“No shit.”

“I’m kidding,” you said, Tommy chuckling as he glanced down at the empty seat across from you. You nodded and he sat down as you bit your bottom lip. “I’m pre-med and doing a finance major in case I change my mind. Pre-med is just a few classes really.”

“You want to be a doctor like your dad?” he asked.

“Maybe. I’d like to help people,” you said with a smile.

“Good for you too,” he said. “I always hoped you turned out okay.”

“I’m okay. I’m getting adopted next month,” you said.

“Hey! That’s awesome!” he said. “Dean seemed like a good guy.”

“He is,” you said. “Thank you. For everything you did that night.”

“I’m not really a fan of mean dad’s hurting their kids,” said Tommy. “I actually got in a little bit of trouble over that whole night. Not trouble trouble but it’s a thing apparently that can happen when you save someone...you feel protective over them.”

“Yeah, my dad gave me the shrink talk about all that. He had another theory though,” you said.

“What’s that?”

“Well he thought I thought you were cute and that’s what it was,” you said.

“Also a viable theory,” he laughed.

“Was he right?” you asked.

“How old are you?” he asked.

“Nineteen next month,” you said. “That a problem for you?”

“Nope,” he said. “Me being a cop a problem for you?”

“Nope,” you said.

“You really are cute you know,” he said, smirking at you as you stood up. “Oh, don’t tell me I ruined it.”

“I got a class to run to,” you said, pulling your backpack on. You slid over your phone to him. “Aren’t you going to give me your number, Thomas?”

He laughed as he typed it in, looking up as you took it back.

“I’ll text you sometime,” you said, shoving it in your pocket. “See you in bio, Tommy.”

“See you Thursday, Y/N.”

Three Months Later

“Mitochon-” you got out before Tommy, slapped the kitchen counter.

“Powerhouse of the cell,” he said. You rolled your eyes as he popped a pizza roll in his mouth. “Boom.”

“You’re such a dork,” you said.

“A dork that’s gonna pass his biology final,” he said as you saw Dean walk in with some groceries. He stared at the two of you for a moment before tilting his head. “Hi.”

“Aren’t you that SWAT officer?” he asked.

“Tommy’s in my bio class. We’re studying for our final. The library was packed,” you said.

“I see,” said Dean. “You two are friends then I take it?”

“Yes, dad…” you said, Dean still smiling whenever you called him that. “You’re a dork too.”

“Well don’t let me interrupt,” he said. He put away the rest of the groceries quietly before he left the room, on the phone with what sounded like the wedding caterers.

“Alright,” you said, picking up the stack of flashcards again. “Where-”

“I believe that’s not the rules,” said Tommy. You put down the cards and leaned over, giving him a kiss. “Very effective study method if I do say so.”

“Riboflavin,” you said.

“Shit,” he said. “Uh…”

“Vitamin. B2,” said Dean as he wandered back in. “Freaking caterers.”

“Vitamin B2,” said Tommy.

“You didn’t know that one and you know it,” you said.

“Riboflavin. V in flavin is for vitamin. B in Ribo is for vitamin B. Ribo, b is in the second syllable. B2,” said Dean. You stared at him, Dean shrugging. “I had to memorize a lot in medical school.”

“Thanks. I think that’ll help with that one actually,” said Tommy.

“I’m sure you had to memorize a lot at the academy. Try using those techniques,” said Dean.

“It wasn’t so much memorization. There was some but a lot of situational training,” he said.

“Like the SWAT stuff,” said Dean.

“Yeah. Identifying types of people quickly, figuring out the best way to handle things like that,” he said.

“What type was Y/N? If you don’t mind me asking,” he said. You put down your flashcards and gave him a look but Tommy chuckled.

“It’s okay, Y/N. Well, we had you pegged as logical and rational based on the discussion you’d had on the phone with Dean. We knew you were the only one in the house so that was a little helpful. Your other dad was out in the woods somewhere which is why we had to lay low for a moment. I could tell you’d tried to get out of those restraints at first but the room wasn’t a mess so I could figure you hadn’t panicked over that. Upset, sure but that’s different than panic. I had to ask you to watch me because you were watching the other guys, still trying to figure out a worse case plan for yourself. You were basically the ideal hostage. Intelligent, followed orders, saved the emotional release for when you were safe. It’s not an ideal situation to ever be in but you were really good to work with,” said Tommy.

“How scared was she?” asked Dean.

“Dad,” you said. Tommy glanced at you and smiled.

“She was very brave,” he said. “I wasn’t really focusing on that to be honest. My job was to get her out safely was all.”

“You two dating?” he asked.

“...Recently,” you said.

“First boyfriend I got to deal with is a cop. A cop that saved you. I had the whole intimidate him thing ready to go too,” said Dean as he shook his head.

“Dad. We need to study,” you said.

“Fine. Study. No more kissing at my kitchen counter,” he said as he headed out.

“How did he know that?” asked Tommy quietly.

“I’m a dad, Thomas. I know everything,” said Dean from the hall.

“Remember how I said he’s just a tad protective of me? Yeah, I wasn’t joking,” you said.

“Still a million times better than my dad,” he mumbled.

“Tommy,” said Dean, wandering back around the corner. “That was a joke. She’s a big girl. She can date whoever she wants. Although I will be starting dinner in fifteen minutes so I would move your study session elsewhere.”

“Thank you, dad,” you said with a smile. “We have to drive back to campus for our final soon though.”

“Well bring him back when you’re done. You can have leftovers,” he said. “Be careful driving. It’s icy out.”

“I will,” you said, sliding over the flashcards to Tommy. “You study while I drive.”

“Thanks,” he said.

“You’ll do fine,” you said as you started to pack up.

“I’m not as smart as you,” he said.

“Yeah you are,” you said. “You got this. It’s just a little test. I’ve literally seen you do far scarier things.”

“Yeah, I know,” he said. “Alright. Let’s go.”

You pulled on your coats and boots in the foyer, Tommy heading outside when you heard Dean whistle.

You spun around and he walked over, giving you a smile.

“Good luck on your test, sweetheart. You’ll do fine,” he said.

“Thanks,” you said. “Did you really have to mess with Tommy though? He’s nervous enough as it is today.”

“He gets some brownie points for saving you. He don’t get ‘em all. Besides, I’m a father to a young woman. I have to have some fun,” he said.

“You knew I was dating him two months ago,” you said. “I talked to you about him before we even started dating.”

“And I told you he’s shy and to make the first move and how’s that working out for you?” he said, wearing a big smirk.

“Shut up. Thank you,” you said.

“Be careful on the front step,” he said.

“Dad,” you groaned. “I know. I’ll be careful.”

“Alright, alright,” he said, walking over and giving you a squishing hug. “Good luck.”

Four Hours Later

“Night,” you said, getting a peck on the lips from Tommy as he headed home after dinner. You locked up after him and went back to the family room, Ana passed out in his side. “Night, dad.”

“Night, sweetheart,” he said. You went to your room and changed into your pajamas, happy to be done with finals and get a month off for winter break. You shut your eyes and heard the door open, peeling one open to find Dean setting a glass of water down on your nightstand. “I went up to the cemetery today. You put those little winter flowers up there?”

“They’re plastic. I figure we don’t have to worry about them dying that way,” you said.

“I saw you got one for Adam too,” he said.

“S’my uncle,” you said. “Tommy and Lewis went with me.”

“Those are some pretty special friends you have. Keep those. They don’t come around that often,” he said.

“Dad,” you said, Dean giving you a smile. “Are you happy?”

“Of course I’m happy, sweetheart,” he said as he sat on the edge of the bed. “Why do you ask?”

“I just remember last year and that night you got so upset after Paula and you told me about Adam. It was like you felt so guilty over things that weren’t your fault,” you said.

“I used to be if I’m being honest. Ana and the twins helped. They helped a lot. But what you said that night, that meant the world to me. It meant more than you’ll ever know. I’m supposed be the tough one that takes care of you when you’re scared and upset, not the other way around. But you don’t bullshit me. You never have. Ana says our heads work the same. So I really tried to believe you and eventually I did. I miss my little brother. I miss Joanna. I wish I’d gotten to meet our baby. I wish I wasn’t so bad at protecting you. There’s so much I wish, sweetheart. But you...you have a mountain of crap too. I didn’t have to earn Ana’s love like I did yours. You I did, so when you tell me it’s not my fault, I just believe you. We had to fight to get here and either one of us could have given up and you didn’t and I love you even more for that,” he said.

“So you’re happy?” you asked, getting a laugh out of him.

“I am marrying the second love of my life next month. I have a wonderful son and two wonderful daughters that are my world. One of those daughters I see starting to fall in love. Everyone is safe and healthy and happy. I’m even getting along really well with my dad. I’ve never been this happy in my life, sweetheart,” he said.

“Okay,” you said, closing your eyes.

“Don’t worry if dad’s happy, sweetheart,” he said. “S’not your job.”

“You’re not the boss of me,” you said as you snuggled into your sheets.

“Alright. You can worry, just a little though. Promise?” he asked.

“Promise.”

Ten Months Later

“Hey,” said Tommy, walking into the waiting room in a huff. Rae giggled when she saw him, Ryan joining in. “Alright, short and shorter. I was just saving someone’s life. Excuse me if I didn’t change out of my skinnies.”

“You look extra hot in your jumpsuit,” you laughed, Tommy giving you the stink eye as he sat down next to you. John came back in with a coffee and handed it to you, snorting when he saw Tommy.

“Alright. You Winchesters are vicious. I’ll be back in twenty,” he said.

“Don’t rush, babe. We’ll be here for awhile,” you said as you stood up, giving him a kiss on the cheek. “You safe out there?”

“It was very undramatic tonight,” he said. “I promise. I’ll be back soon.”

He left and you sat back down next to John, Sam coming in with his own coffee for him and Eileen and a smile on his face.

“Wow,” he said. “He looks so much less tough without all the gear.”

“Boys got a hard job,” said John as he flipped through a magazine. “He go out on calls often?”

“Maybe once a week. Sometimes every other,” you said. “He doesn’t tell me the details. I know he works with kids a lot, friendly face and all.”

“Special kind of man to do that,” said John as he flipped again.

“Just good,” you said. Sam awwed and you rolled your eyes, taking a sip of your coffee. “Ew. It’s black. You take this.”

“Thank you,” said Sam as you stood.

“I’m going to get coffee,” you said. You were barely out of the door when you bumped into Dean, a big smile on his face. “Well?”

“It’s a girl,” he beamed.

“Yay! I told you it would be a girl!” you said, Dean opening the door to the waiting room. “It’s a girl!”

“It went good,” said Dean as everyone smiled. “Ana and the baby are all good. You guys can come see her. One at a time right now they said.”

“Y/N’s already up,” said John.

“I guess big sis is up first,” said Dean. You followed him down the hall a ways until you got to a room, poking your head in quietly after him, Ana looking pretty tired but happy as she held the baby. “She was born about half an hour ago. Ana was not having anyone come in and see her looking like the hot mess she was.”

“He nearly fainted,” said Ana with a laugh, handing the baby to Dean. He carried her over with a smile to you, setting her down in your arms.

“This is your big sister, Y/N. You are so lucky to have a big sister like her. Your other brother and sister will tell you all about it,” said Dean.

“Hi, baby,” you said, biting your bottom lip for a second.

“Y/N?” asked Ana when you ducked your head down and sniffled.

“You’re so lucky,” you said. “You have the best mom and dad in the world right from the start. You’re gonna be normal and happy and loved and you’re never gonna question it. You’re gonna have such a good life and you don’t even know it yet.”

“Hey,” said Dean as picked up the baby from you and handed her back to Ana.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m crying,” you said as you wiped off your face.

“Everyone in this room has cried today. Join the club,” he said, pulling you into a hug.

“I just know she’s going to have a really amazing life and she’s not gonna be like me,” you said.

“Hey. I’d be pretty okay if she wound up like her big sister,” he said.

“Me too, sweetheart,” said Ana.

“The twins don’t really remember foster care much and I’m so happy they don’t and she’s never gonna have to…” you said, taking a shaky breath. “I’m just happy.”

“You are the best big sister she could ever dream of having,” said Dean. “She’s gonna learn so much from you about being the kind of person that’ll make me and Ana proud.”

“She’s really cute. Some babies are ugly but she’s actually adorable,” you said.

“I know,” he said.

“You’re gonna get so many hugs. Dad’s a really big hugger,” you said as you bent down. The little girl poked open an eye at you and you bent down and kissed her forehead. “I love you.”

“You’re making dad cry again,” said Ana. You turned your head and he was looking away.

“Liar,” said Dean, wiping off his face before he turned back. “Alright. We got to keep this train moving. Next in line.”

“I’ll see you soon, baby,” you said, giving her a little wave before you headed out into the hall. “She’s so cute.”

“I know,” he chuckled. “Of course it was another girl.”

“You and Ry are so outnumbered,” you said.

“You’re still my first baby girl,” he said. “Always.”

“You don’t know that for sure,” you said.

“I always felt like with Jo it was a boy. Just this gut feeling I had,” he said, smiling as he looked up and then back at you. “Thank you, sweetheart. For that talk we had at the wedding about a baby.”

“Dad. I know we’re your kids and you don’t care that you weren’t the one who made us but I’m really happy you and Ana decided to have one. Both of you deserve to have your own kid.”

“You still have some learning of your own to do it seems,” he said, tucking your hair behind your ear.

“Dad,” you said, glancing down, his finger under your chin after a moment.

“Just because someone makes you, it doesn’t make them your parent. You know that better than anyone,” he said.

“That’s you baby girl in there,” you said. “Not me.”

“She’s my baby baby girl. My second baby girl is in the waiting room and my first baby girl is right here,” he said.

“I’m sorry,” you said, turning to head back for the waiting room but he caught your wrist. “This is the birth of your daughter and I’m-”

“My daughter. Unconditionally and irrevocably my daughter,” he said. “I love you all the same. Ana loves you the same. We’re your parents. You got to have two moms is all. There’s nothing wrong with that. There’s nothing wrong with getting emotional over your new sister being born. I promise you too that while sometimes we’re gonna ask for help, you are never going to have to be a parent to her. This one’s on us. We’re all gonna raise her.”

“Okay,” you said with a nod. “Today’s my mom’s birthday actually.”

“I know,” he said, smiling softly. “She was born just after midnight. I was wondering if she held out so she could have the same day.”

“Maybe,” you said. “I’m just really happy cause you’re so happy and Ana’s happy and both you guys deserve it.”

“Must have done something right with you,” he said.

“Just keep her away from the bad guys and you’re good,” you laughed.

“Or we’ll have to get big sis’s boyfriend to come save the day,” he chuckled. “Tommy had a call tonight, didn’t he. He okay?”

“Yeah. He went home to change. He wants to see the baby,” you said. “You always ask when he has to go out on them. Thank you.”

“He’s a good guy. We want him to stay safe too,” he said. “Bring him back when he gets here.”

“I will,” you said.

“Send my parents back if you wouldn’t mind, sweetheart,” he said. “I’m sure they’re itching to meet the babe.”

_______

A/N: Read the final part here!

#spn #supernatural #dean x foster daughter!reader #au #series #dean winchester

397 notes · View notes

wellthatjusthappend · 4 years

Text

Hello, wish you happines from here till the day you die. How about Jason going to Med school? And the family realized it because of Talia. They go to ask him and he tells them he has guard tonight because of scarecrow gas, they can bother him in his next free day. Thank you and take care.

****

This confused me for half a second because I didn’t realize it was submitted instead of asked. Anyway, I love this without reserve, here you go:

****

“But why wouldn’t Jason have mentioned that he wanted to go to college?” Dick was fretting, “He must have known we would have supported him.”

“How, exactly would he have known that?” Tim asked tiredly from the kitchen table, “Bruce didn’t go to college because he choose to instead go on a world tour to training for Batman, you started college but dropped out because Nightwing stuff came first, and I tested out of high school and am definitely not going to college. The family as a whole doesn’t really do the whole college thing, I doubt Jason would expect us to understand.”

Bruce didn’t say anything, just continued to stare at the email Talia had sent him chewing him out for not supporting his son in his pursuit of Med School. Apparently Jason was had been applying for scholarships and student loans for the coming fall, and Talia was livid that he was on his own.

What is the point of all your riches, Beloved, if you don’t use them to lift up the ones you are responsible for? If you don’t step up, then I will.

“We should have heard it from Jason,” Dick was insisting.

“When did any of you ask Jason about anything non Mission related?” Tim shot back.

“I did,” Dick said sounding offended, “I asked him if he was seeing Artemis.”

“No, you teased him about seeing Artemis and waited for him to correct you.”

“Same difference.”

“It really isn’t.”

“Boys-”

Jason kicked open the door looking angry.

“What the fuck is this?” Jason shoved his phone in Bruce’s face. Bruce glanced at the phone and that back at Jason.

“Your bank account, I presume?” he said mildly.

“You ‘presume’ too much,” Jason snapped, “Why did I just have a $200k check deposited into my personal account ‘for school’, huh?”

“We want to support you-” Dick started.

“Don’t-” Jason held up his hand, closing his eyes for a moment, a muscle in his jaw jumping, “Don’t talk to me when I’m arguing with Bruce, Dickie.”

“At Bruce,” Tim corrected under his breath.

“Did it maybe occur to all of you that this might be something I wanted to do on my own?” Jason asked.

“You shouldn’t have worry about money,” Bruce said stubbornly, “I can handle it for you.”

“You-” Jason grit his teeth, “You know what? I don’t have fucking time for this shit. Scarecrow has a new gas on the street. Not that you all would know since you’re too busy digging into my finances-”

“Jaylad-”

“I’m out of here,” Jason growled, “If I see any of you on patrol, it better only be for something actually fucking useful.”

They all sat in silence for a moment after Jason walked back out.

“I told you-”

“Shut up Tim.”

#requests #story requests #I love it when Talia get's all mom about Jason #family banter #my writing #short #submission

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foolgobi65 · 4 years

Text

careful man’s careless daughter

@philtstone prompted: Anne/Gilbert babysitter au fake dating prompt #5 let’s go laydees “you have the emotional capacity of a brick. that slate I broke over your head.” (we’re pretending people still use slates now....american schools have no money...its possible ok)

k so i was trying to figure out how to work in the babysitter + fake dating and ... like a flash the plot to this old telugu/tamil movie i love missamma/missaimaa came to mind -- its not quite the same because they’re two people pretending to be married so that they can make money as school teachers/live in tutors for a wealthy family’s daughter but it works just enough that i decided to roll with it lol.

this technically isn’t the actual babysitting, nor the fake dating which I actually turned into a fake marriage lol, but i hope u still like it, even though it is all over the place and a general wreck because i wrote it straight through without any editing or thought towards pacing/characterization bc i havent written in forever lol!! im not even sure what the time period setting is lol, and i dont think my translating of the anne events into a semi modern day even works but w/e lol.

u are the truest of friends, the light of my life, and have certainly heard more than your share of my mental breakdowns both in the last month and the last few years lol. u deserve all the good things, all the good fic, all the time.

title is a perversion of a tswift lyric because it came up on youtube. if anyone wants to send in prompts from here

---

“You owe him how much?”

Anne sighs, crossing her legs to hide how uncomfortable she is in this moment -- here she is in the park, fifteen thousand dollars plus interest in medical debt for Marilla’s eye surgery and being hounded by Roy Gardner, ex boyfriend apparently turned loan shark who was on his knees proclaiming both love and loan forgiveness should Anne just accept his proposal.

Here Gilbert Blythe is, sitting on a park bench after two years without contact, watching the whole thing.

“Marilla doesn’t have health insurance,” Anne says, eyes on the ground as she uses the toe of her shoe to grind a leaf into the sidewalk cement. “Even when I was teaching, the union plan didn’t let people add parents on as dependents.” She sighs. “With everything happening with the farm, she couldn’t afford to put money towards a plan and so when her eyes got bad....”

For a moment, there is silence. Anne can almost hear Gilbert’s jaw clench “That’s just wrong.”

Anne laughs, and because her eyes are averted she doesn’t see Gilbert flinch. “That’s America, Blythe.”

“Well,” she hears him say, tone just dripping with what Mrs. Rachel would call the Blythe Stubbornness, “It shouldn’t be.”

She won’t ever admit it, but there’s something Anne has always found deeply compelling about Gilbert when he gets into these moods -- all righteously indignant in a way that Anne feels inside of her own body. Or felt, before Matthew died and left behind debts not even Marilla had known about, and Marilla’s eyes worsened around the the time Anne was let go from her teaching job and even if she had had the job it wouldn’t have mattered, she knows, but still. Beautiful, wonderful, beloved Diana had offered to help, of course she had, but Anne knew that Fred’s business wasn’t yet where it should be and that the parents Barry were still unimpressed with their son in law to be’s financial acumen. So she’d had to go to Roy, who had of course lent his beautiful Anne the money, and of course had arranged for Marilla to be treated at the best hospital in Toronto, of course had set them up in the apartment of a friend of his right in downtown where the rents were a thousand maybe two per month. He’d popped the question for the third time the second Marilla had been released back into Anne’s care.

Almost as if he can hear her thoughts, Gilbert speaks -- “Gardner shouldn’t be harassing you like this either. Who ever heard of charging interest on a loan to a friend? And what on earth does he think he’s going to take from you if you just don’t pay?”

Anne burns. This, she hasn’t told Marilla, nor even her darling Diana. For some reason, it seems alright to tell Gilbert. “The farm,” she mumbles.

Gilbert snorts. “I’m sorry, I must have misheard. Are you saying that Roy Gardner, heir to one of the biggest fortunes in Boston and your ex boyfriend, took your home as collateral on a loan for money you needed to pay for your mother’s surgery?”

Anne says nothing. She still hasn’t looked up at him, hasn’t been able to meet his gaze since she sat down on the bench and told Roy to get up off his knees and wait two months for either his money or her affirmative answer. She blinks, having mercifully forgotten that Gilbert was present for that last bit. She hopes he’s forgotten too.

“And wait, before he left you said....” No such luck. “Anne!” Anne’s sure her entire head must be flame as she closes her eyes, bringing her knees up on the park bench and burying her face into her own lap. “Anne you said you’d marry him if you couldn’t get the money!”

“There’s no debt between spouses,” Anne mumbles. “We’d get to keep the farm, and I wouldn’t ever worry about Marilla’s health again.”

“But you don’t love him!” She doesn’t know if she’s ever heard Gilbert sound so scandalized.

“I used to!” she tries to retort, but even Anne knows that her voice betrays her when she tries to speak this lie. “I used to think I was,” she amends, “and maybe that’s as close as I’m allowed to get -- he’s rich, handsome, he even loves me! What more could I ask for?”

“Coercing you into marriage, demanding interest on money that we all know is just pocket change for someone like him...that’s not love,” Gilbert Blythe responds, with all that....that all-knowing Blytheness in his voice that Anne has hated since she was 13 years old and the new kid in a class of people who had always known each other just as easily as they had known themselves. “Love is selfless, Anne, strong and kind. It makes you better for giving away your heart, even if the one you love doesn’t give you theirs in return.”

Gilbert Blythe, always acting as if he knows something Anne does not. He speaks as if he’s been in love, at some point over the years since he was last in Avonlea and for some reason Anne absolutely burns with that knowledge. Ooh she just hates him, now at 24 just as easily as she had at 13!

“And what exactly is love worth if it means I just lose the farm trying to pay for Marilla’s surgery, and still have nothing for the next time she’s sick?” Suddenly Anne is on her feet, hands on her hips as she glares at Gilbert looking quite alarmed as he still sits on the bench. The words she has kept locked on the inside, too private to even be written in a diary, come pouring out in one big rush:

“Three of my four parents are already dead, Gilbert Blythe.” Her voice hitches, to her horror, her sudden fury vanishes as she has to blink away the tears she has kept at bay since she and Marilla buried Matthew. Damn Gilbert, for bringing this out of her as well. “I can’t...I couldn’t bear to lose anyone else.” Her lips thin, and with a breath, her voice steadies. “I don’t care what you, or anyone else thinks about my choices if it means that I can take care of Marilla.”

Gilbert’s eyes have the sheen of his own tears when he stands, his own lips wobbling just slightly. “I...” he swallows. “Of course, Anne.” Something Anne recognizes as self hatred passes briefly over his face, but she doesn’t understand. “I wish I had money like Gardner to give you, I really do.”

Anne gentles, even if something inside her twists to be the object of the long-old guilt mixed with pity, much less Gilbert Blythe. Since Matthew’s death, every person in Avonlea it seems has sat with Anne and Marilla and offered their deep condolences, their absolute shock at the pair’s financial state of affairs, how much they wish they could help but sadly cannot, what with the way the bank’s collapse has hit their own finances. Only families like the Gardners survive economic crashes with money to burn.

“I wouldn’t have taken it even if you had,” she offers instead, shrugging casually.

His eyes flash. “But you took Gardner’s?”

“I thought he loved me!” Anne closes her eyes, somehow feeling her cheeks flush even deeper. This is why she’s avoided all mention of Gilbert Blythe so strenuously since high school graduation, because more than anyone else he is the one who drags out the words she is always learning to keep inside. Here he is, somehow pulling confessions Anne hadn’t even dreamed of telling Diana, confessions that make her seem small, and stupid, lost in a world so much more complicated and treacherous than she can handle all on her lonesome.

Well, she thinks, in for a penny --

“I thought he loved me,” she says, “and that he had the money to spare. I didn’t realize...” She looks away again, so that she never has to see him react to her folly.

“Oh Anne,” Gilbert says, for some reason so soft and stricken that Anne’s knees go weak with her sudden desire to fall to the ground and weep. “You deserve so much better.”

And now she’s angry again. “What would you know about what I deserve?” Anne spits, “you haven’t even been home since you started med school!” Vaguely, Anne thinks that Gilbert hasn’t been home since she and Roy had gotten serious, serious enough for her to bring him to Green Gables and show him the place that had been her very first love. Coincidences can be so strange.

“It doesn’t matter,” she says, glaring again at the ground. “None of this matters. I’m just going to go home” Anne clenches her jaw, knowing that when she gets back to Green Gables she will go into her room and play every excruciating part of this conversation back in her head, again and again until she throws up or passes out at dawn from sheer exhaustion. Maybe both, if she’s lucky. She leans back slightly and manages to turn around on her heels, a trick Gilbert Blythe had always pulled at school and had had girls thinking he was so cool.

She’s five minutes away from the park bench when suddenly she hears him call out her name.

“Anne,” he shouts again much closer, bending at his waist to balance his hands at his knees as he pants. “God, it really has been two years since I was on the university football team.”

Despite the roiling emotions of five minutes ago, Anne’s lips quirk. “I can’t imagine you all practiced very much to end up near the bottom of your league every year.”

Gilbert’s eyes widen, and for some reason he flushes. Maybe he’s so out of shape that it’s from exertion? “I didn’t realize you kept up with my matches.” Ah. Anne, it seems, will experience nothing else but one long sustained flush as long as she is in front of Gilbert Blythe. “You know,” she tries to say casually, “you hear things here and there. Diana told me the village gossip.”

Gilbert opens his mouth, but then suddenly shakes his head, like a dog trying to dislodge water from its fur. “I have...” he frowns. “I have a proposition for you.” Anne raises what she hopes is an elegant eyebrow. “Oh?”

He grimaces. “There’s a boarding school, a Catholic one, that’s asking for teachers over the summer for a few of their select students who want to be coached for college admissions. Essays, standardized tests, everything. They’ve got heaps of money, and are willing to pay salaries up front. Plus, they cover all your expenses while you’re there!”

Anne blinks, feeling the beginnings of hope gather as kindling at the very dredges of her heart. Once, both Anne and Gilbert had competed so well against each other that they had both gotten into Harvard. Then, Matthew had died, and Anne decided she could just as easily get a teaching degree at the state school and stay closer to Marilla too. Gilbert alone had had the distinction of being the first from Avonlea to reach such heights, and had reached even higher when he had been accepted again to Harvard Medical School.

But at one point, both Anne and Gilbert had taken their SATs. They’d both written their application essays. They’d both gotten in. Anne, even, had been offered a full ride compared to Gilbert’s only partial scholarship, so there could even be an argument that of the two, Anne had been the one on top.

And if nothing else, Anne is even better at teaching than she was at taking tests.

“I’ll do it,” she says firmly. “Where and when do I need to report, and how much money are they offering?” For a second, a bright, dazzling grin paints Gilbert’s face. “Really? Ten--” he coughs, “Twenty thousand.” Anne frowns.

“Each?” It sounds like a dream come true. Five thousand more than Anne needs, and paid upfront. She could save the farm, and put away five thousand towards the farm’s debts. “That sounds....exorbitant.” He nods, suddenly more confident. “Yep! Twenty thousand for sure.” He laughs. “I know Gardner was supposed to be slumming it at state school, but you really can’t be surprised at how much money rich people are willing to throw at a problem.”

“The problem being...their children.” Gilbert’s grin turns wicked. “The problem being their children’s SAT scores, and lack of compelling anecdote to base an admission’s essay on, yes.”

Anne laughs, wicked in this moment as well. She wishes in this moment, fiercely, as she has many times over the last few years, that she had been able to go to university with Gilbert at her side -- as the friends they had slowly begun to be after years of one and two sided enmity, before time and distance had turned them into near strangers. She doesn’t regret staying back, not really, but there is a part of her that no one had ever understood half as well as Gilbert Blythe, who had, after the Harvard interest meeting, drawn and pinned up a schedule for practice SATs that took into account both his and Anne’s often conflicting life schedules.

“What’s the catch,” she asks, grinning when Gilbert chokes “come on, Blythe, there’s always a catch with offers like this. Is it across from a waste manufacturing plant? Is the principal a pervert?”

Slowly, Gilbert Blythe is turning red. “Ah,” he says, shuffling like he never did even when he was an errant schoolboy. “Well,” he says, and....is that his voice cracking?

“Gilbert,” Anne says, trying to reassure him, “I grew up in the foster system, I can handle much worse than bad smells and pervert principals, I promise.”

He frowns. “It’s not that,” he says slowly, “but basically they’re looking for two teachers, a man and a woman to manage the boys and the girls while the rest of the staff go on vacation.”

Anne smiles, trying to ignore the jolt of her heart at the thought of an entire summer with Gilbert, studying like they used to but as friends. Her old dreams, finally coming true. “That’s perfect then, you take one job and I’ll take the other! It’ll be like old times, kind of.”

He smiles faintly, as if, even after locking horns with the best and brightest at Harvard, Anne is still the person he wants to be trading barbs with over the heads of high school students for months on end. “I’d like nothing better, he says, except...”

“Except?”

Gilbert inhales. “ExceptTheSchoolWillOnlyHireAMarriedCoupleSoThatTheyDon’tHaveToWorryAboutOutofWedlockSexorTeachersHavingSexWithStudents.” All in a rush, and now Gilbert is the one who can’t apparently handle eye contact.

“What?”

“The school,” Gilbert says to his shoes, “since it’s Catholic, and also since they’re lazy, only want a married couple so that they don’t have to have anyone watching to make sure the teachers aren’t having sex with the students. Or each other.”

Anne blinks. “But we’re not married!”

Gilbert grimaces, opening his mouth, but then just biting his lip. They could be, Anne thinks, only a tad hysterical. Only all of Avonlea was matching them up all the years of high school, and even the years after until she’d met Roy. It would be so easy to get a certificate. They could get a divorce by September, even annul their marriage since they definitely wouldn’t be having sex.

Twenty thousand dollars.

“So what you’re saying,” Anne says slowly, her lip curling of its own accord “is that after all that talk about what love is and isn’t, and telling me that I shouldn’t marry Roy for the money he’d give me, your blockheaded solution is instead, for me to marry you?”

Gilbert looks up. “Well when you put it that way--” Anne sees red, even as she already sees herself in one of her old white lace dresses, standing with Gilbert at the courtroom and signing. “Gilbert Blythe I don’t believe you! Sometimes, I think that you really do have all the emotional capacity of that slate I broke over your head!”

“I know,” he says tone heavy with something so sad that Anne’s hearten softens a bit of its own accord. “But you really need the money, and I promise we’ll get a divorce by September.” He smiles, but there’s something bitter at the corners that Anne has never seen before -- she almost raises her hand to rub the strand of emotion off his lips. “And you’re not the only one who needs the money. Will you do it?”

Twenty thousand dollars. The farm, Marilla, an end to the eternal pity of Avonlea. And also, a small part of her suggests, an opportunity to finally spend time with this new Gilbert Blythe who went off into the world and left her behind.

She sighs. “I vote that you be the one to tell Mrs. Lynde.”

#obviously gilbert's been in love with anne this whole time #not in a really creepy way just a realization that no one he meets compares #a gentle longing for an unrequited love hes accustomed himself to #the salary is originally 10k each but he decides to give her his and cut a deal with the people to put it all in anne's name #which theyre fine with bc theyre married and hes like oh the debts we have are in her name lol #in this au since he didnt give up the school for her this salary thing is probably that equivalent?#anyways anne and gilbert fall in love while teaching annoying rich kids who get a transformative summer that helps them become good people #they reconnect talk about their past their present their futrue #fall in love thinking the other one could never feel the same #good stuff #aogg #anne of green gables #anne shirley #gilbert blythe #maya writes

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ruthoakenshield · 4 years

Text

The Lady in Black Leather (chapter 8)

The Lady in Black Leather (chapter 7)

You get back to the apartment with Aiden and Scarlett and they let you go off to your room. You sit down on the bed and sigh. It would be easier on you if you just moved in with Richard, but you truly felt you just needed a break from living with men and had a place of your own.

You took off your corset, carefully hanging it up to air out. You decided to get a few more so you weren’t wearing the same two all the time, if your finances allowed it this month. You took off your skinny jeans, socks, underwear and shirt and tossed everything into the laundry basket in the closet. Then you went into the bathroom, let down your hair and climbed into the shower.

You stood there under the warm water thinking about Richard, wondering if he was in his shower right now. You giggled at him calling you addicting. As you washed your hair and showered, you thought about your conversations with him since you met him and how he treated you.

You thought about your conversation with Graham in the bookstore and the car as he drove you to Richard’s place. You suddenly realized there was no way he could’ve gotten to the studio from Richard’s place in the short amount of time there was between you texting Scarlett and you arriving at the studio. You realized that Graham was one of the last people to leave the shop yesterday. You wondered if he knew about Richard’s party, maybe even convinced Richard to have one so they could hook you two up, and had planned with Scarlett to pick you up and take you to the party!

You chuckled, thinking back on all that Graham has said to you. He was always encouraging you to give Richard a chance and to let him date you. Was he trying to set you up with Richard? Was Scarlett and Aiden in on it too? You wondered.

You missed your parents, the way Graham talked to you in the car, reminded you of how your dad and grandpa talked to you. They often didn’t like the men you dated. Would they have liked Richard and his friends if heart attacks and strokes hadn’t claimed their lives? You hoped so.

You realized these friends all were different than what you and Scarlett normally would hang out with. Maybe it was a good thing for the two of you to meet them at the Squawking Raven that night, and maybe it was a good thing Scarlett went home with Aiden. It sure has changed both of your lives for seemingly the better.

You were still thinking about all of this when you got out of the shower and dried off. You wrapped the towel around you and walked into your room to find a box sitting on your bed. You looked around puzzled. Walking over to it you noticed a note.

Opening it, you found a message from Graham.

“Hey, sweetheart. I hope ya had fun at Rich’s party last night. Hope ya don’t mind, but I saw this and thought it would look smashing on ya for maybe a first date with Rich or a special event. He adores ya, Sweetheart. We all do. Enjoy the gift, it’s from all of us. We’re rooting for ya!” - Graham.

You open the box and see a gorgeous black velvet strapless gown with a black and silver brocade underbust corset. You are speechless. It looks like something someone would wear on the red carpet! You pull the dress out of the box and hold it up to you. It is floor length with a small train. Under the dress is a set of beautiful black and silver jewelry: A short collar length necklace with earrings and bracelet and a stunning ring.

You wonder what Graham knows that you don’t. You giggle and try the dress on. It is a little big on you, but you could have it taken in easily enough. You try on the corset and it fits you like a glove. You dance around the room giggling.

When you finally calm down, you put the jewlery in your jewelry box, then carefully put the dress back in the box since it will need to be altered slightly. You look for tags indicating where it was bought, but find none. You run your hand along the velvet and know that if you wear it around Richard, he won’t be able to stop petting you all night long. You grin.

You decide to wear the corset today as a teaser, and to thank Graham for it if you see him. You dig through your clothes and find your other pair of leather pants, the ones that fit a little looser, have cut outs on the lower legs, and are thicker leather. Then you pull out a long sleeve off the shoulder black shirt to put under the corset.

After you get dressed, you carefully comb out and oil your hair and then start to put it into one long five strand braid. You call for Scarlett to help you since you can only reach so far. Aiden follows her into your room and stops dead in his tracks when he sees you standing in front of the mirror in the corset and leather pants.

Scarlett comes over and helps you finish the braid and then helps you weave a silver ribbon through the braid, tying it off at the bottom.

You turn and go to the small jewelry box and dig around for your silver dangly earrings and necklace and put them on.

You turn and ask, “So??? Does this look okay?”

He looks at Scarlett, who is smirking, and he nods, completely at a loss for words.

Scarlett looks down at the box. “I take it you opened the gift?” she asks. You nod. “Yeah. It’s a gorgeous dress and I love the corset and jewelry. I’m gonna need to have the dress altered though, it’s a little big on me.” You say sheepishly.

“Did Graham really get these for me?” you ask with a raised eyebrow.

Scarlet beams, “Yup… with a little help.” She smirks. We were out shopping with him yesterday, since the rest of the guys had to work at the studio doing filming. He mentioned seeing us shopping and how he was trying to hook you and Rich up.” She giggled.

“He said Rich had mentioned wanting to take you to a certain place maybe for a first date if Rich could screw up enough courage to ask you out, and asked me if you had anything fancy to wear for it. I told him no, since we just purged your closet and it would take a while to build it back up. Don’t worry, Sweetheart, I told him you’re on an all black clothing kick lately, but that a splash of color here and there should be considered on special occasions.” She tells you giggling.

Aiden just watches the two of you with a knowing smirk. Trying to gauge your reaction to the very expensive gift. You looked down at the dress again and ran your fingers over the soft velvet.

“If I wear this, Rich will be petting me all night long. He already can’t seem to keep his paws off of me!” you giggle.

Scarlett just chuckles, “Is that a bad thing?” she asks, grinning like a Cheshire cat. You grin mischievously, “It depends.” You say with a wink.

“So where does he want to take me for a first date?” you ask with a raised eyebrow.

Both Aiden and Scarlett grin, “We’re not allowed to tell you. It’s supposed to be a surprise.” They tell you.

You roll your eyes. “Well I guess I had better find a place to have this taken in then, so it is ready whenever he decides to ask me on said date.” You tell them.

They both giggle. “Graham said he’ll take you to have it fitted properly closer to the date. For now, though you should hang it up, so it doesn’t crease, Har.” Scarlett tells you as she pulls it out of the box again. She holds it up to you and grins picturing it on you with the corset. Nodding, she walks into your closet and hangs it up on one of the velvet lined hangers.

“So now what are you going to do?” Aiden asks.

“I think I’ll sit down and figure out my finances now. I have a tentative schedule worked out with Todd, so I can figure out approximately how much take home pay I will be getting each month. He is paying me more than what I had expected, so we’ll see how things turn out.” You tell him.

“Ok, well we were gonna go out for a bit. Are you going to be all right here by yourself?” they ask.

You nod. “Yeah, just make sure you lock the door when you leave.” You tell them.

They nod, “Okay, Harley. Call if you need anything or a ride anywhere.” Aiden tells you.

Then they head out.

You dig around in your stuff till you have all your bills and a notebook. Sitting everything down on the kitchen counter, you sit on the bar stool and start writing down all your bills:

· Electricity

· Phone

· Internet

· Spotify

· Hulu

· Netflix

· Renter’s insurance

· Health insurance

· Hospital bills

· Clinic bills

· Food, toiletries

You call the electricity company and ask them to disconnect the power to your old apartment tomorrow morning because you are moving out. You pay the bill and thank them.

Next you look up how much food a dog eats per month. You write it down and then look up how much it will cost for that much dog food each month. You add it to the list of bills. Then you look up costs for stuff like flea and tick meds, heartworm meds, and pet grooming. You add that all to the list as well.

Finally, you factor in the rent for the new place.

It will be tight for a few months, but you think you can swing it on your own if your friends who promised to help with the start up costs for the dog follow through with their promise.

You search online for what breeds of dogs make good guard dogs and look at the pictures.

You like the Akitas, Belgian Malinois, Belgian Sheepdogs, Belgian Tervuren, German Shepherds, and Siberian Huskies.

You text Todd that you would like the apartment, and that you’re meeting Alex at the precinct at 1pm. You tell him you could meet him after that. He tells you he will call the O’Malleys and set up a time with them then call you back.

After talking with Todd, you hang up and then text Richard.

“Um, hi, it’s me, Harley. Would I be able to get a ride to the precinct that Alex works at for 1pm so I can give him my keys? Scarlett and Aiden are out for a bit and I don’t want to bother them. If you can’t that’s ok. I will call a taxi. Let me know.”

He calls you back a minute later and tells you he can give you a ride. You tell him you’re at Aiden’s apartment and he can pick you up there. “Would you want to give me a ride to my new apartment so I can sign the lease too?” you ask shyly.

“Sweetheart, for you, I’d move heaven and earth to help you however you need.” He tells you. You giggle. “Thanks, Rich.” You tell him.

“Let me finish what I’m workin’ on here, and I will be over in about 20 minutes.” He tells you. You thank him again and the two of you hang up.

You text Alex and ask for the address of the Precinct and ask if it is ok if you bring your new boyfriend with. He texts you back “Here’s the address. (insert precinct address). And do I need to run a background check on the guy? 😉 J/k.”

Chuckling, you text back, “Well, It’s Richard Armitage, so I think I’ll be safe with him. 😉 but don’t tell anyone. He likes his privacy and he just asked me to be his girl this morning after he finally worked up the nerve. ***giggles***.”

“Congrats!” he texts back. “I love his acting!” he tells you. “See you two at the precinct. You’re secret is safe with me!” he tells you.

“Thanks Alex. By the way, I’m heading over to sign the lease with the O’Malleys when I get done at the precinct! 😊” you text him.

“Great! Do you just want us to bring your stuff there?” he asks.

“Can we put it in storage till my day off?” you ask. “I’m still trying to get some stuff worked out here on my end.” You ask.

“Sure thing, Harley. Just let us know when you want it moved and the guys said they’ll come move it in for you on their day off.” He texts back.

“ok. Thanks!” you reply.

You are feeling more optimistic now and decide to go to your room and put some makeup on. You do so and add your ylang ylang perfume oil on your neck by your ears and a drop on your wrists. You grin and look at yourself in the mirror. You really like the corset that Graham bought for you and suspect Scarlett helped him pick it out since she knows your sizes.

You get a text a few minutes later that Richard is on his way.

Wandering into the closet, you try to decide which boots you want to wear. You decide to put the knee-high heels on so you’re a little taller standing next to Richard. You wonder if he will like how you look today.

You pick out the high-low jacket with the purple lining once you check the weather on your phone. You don’t want to be caught in the rain, and the app says it’s supposed to be a sunny and nice day, so you pick the high-low jacket.

Digging around in the closet, you find your black messenger bag and transfer your phone charging cords, speakers, phone, wallet and earbuds into it. You take your pouch that you had tied to your corset the other night and put it into the messenger bag as well.

You put your brush, comb, some hair ties and hairpins and your perfume oil into a little container and put it in your bag as well. You make a mental note to get a travel toothbrush, deodorant, container for your hair oil, and travel comb and brush set to keep with you in case you are kidnapped by your friends again and end up stuck at someone’s house overnight.

You chuckle and walk into the living room with your bag and coat just as you hear the doorbell ring. Walking over to the door, you open it and find Richard standing there with a bouquet of flowers. He sees you and gives you a big smile. “Hey, Love, you look amazing this morning!” he tells you as you take the flowers and give him a kiss.”

He follows you into the kitchen and you dig around for a vase or something to put the flowers in. Richard chuckles and opens up a cabinet on the top side of the fridge that you couldn’t reach and finds a vase for you. “Here, Love.” He tells you as he hands it to you.

Thanking him, you fill it with water and dump the powder packet of plant food in and then cut the flower stems and place them in the vase. “They smell amazing, Richard, thank you!”

You place the flowers on the counter and then notice he has a card for you. He hands it to you, and you read it. You look up at him and try not to cry. “Rich, you’re gonna make me cry and ruin my makeup!” you tell him. He chuckles and says, “Well, it’s a good thing we haven’t left yet then!” he says as he cups your face and gives you a searing kiss.

He pulls you into his arms, holding you close as he kisses you. When you both finally come up for air, he chuckles and tells you he is so happy you agreed to date him and be his girl. He asks you if you got your finances figured out and you nod. You show him your paper and the notes.

He frowns. “It’s gonna be really tight for you, Hun.” He says a little worried. “You sure you want to go this route? My offer still stands.” He says.

“I know, Rich.” You tell him as you snuggle into his arms. “But I’ve lived with someone or another ever since my parents died. I’ve never had a place that is just my own. It is something I need to try once at least. If I need help with bills, I promise I will let someone know.” You tell him.

He hugs you and sighs. “All right, Sweetheart. Now where is this precinct I need to get you to by 1pm?” he asks. You give him the address and he puts it into his phone’s navigation. “Oh! That won’t be too far from here. We have some time yet. Want to go get some lunch?” he asks.

You nod. “Oh, wait, I gotta go get something out of my backpack! I almost forgot about it!” you tell him as you run to your room. You dig in your bag and look for the restraining order. You momentarily panic when you can’t find it, but then check your jacket you wore yesterday and find it in the pocket. You grab the change you forgot to give to Todd as well.

You put the restraining order in your messenger bag’s front pocket and tell Rich it’s there in case anything happens to you. Then you grab a baggie and put Todd’s change from lunch yesterday in it and toss it in the messenger bag as well.

Your phone starts to ring, and you pick it up. You see it’s Todd and he tells you to meet him at the apartment for 2pm. He asks if you need a ride and you tell him, no, you will get a ride there. “I’ll text you the address, so you have it.” He tells you. You thank him and hang up. A moment later you receive the text with the address, and forward it to Richard with a note, “Here is my new address. 😊”

Rich looks down at the text and chuckles. He helps you into your jacket and you sling the messenger bag across your body. “Ready!” you say and give him a hug, pulling him down for a kiss. “Someone’s in a good mood today!” he chuckles. “Mmmmm, you smell divine, Sweetheart! I might have to just kiss you here all day.” He teases.

You chuckle and he nibbles your neck as he backs you to the door casing. You giggle and manage to squeak out, “Rich, we need to go get lunch!”

He looks up from nuzzling your neck and gives you a mischievous look. “I have my lunch right here.” He says and gives you a little squeeze. You squeak and he chuckles.

“Ok, ok. We’ll go get you some food.” He says in a mock offended tone, making you giggle and give him the stink eye.

“Be good or you won’t get your surprise.” You tell him. He raises an eyebrow. You just grin and head for the door. He follows and you both slip out into the hallway. You lock the door and text Scarlet where you’re going, and that Rich is taking you to run some errands.

She replies, “Okay, have fun! 😉”

The two of you walk down to the elevator and wait for it after you push the down button. Rich grabs your hand and intertwines his fingers with yours and kisses the back of your hand.

“Would you like to go look at some potential dogs with me and Graham when we get done with your apartment stuff?” he asks. “I saw you had made a list of some you liked.”

You nod. “Sure, if we have time.” You tell him. He grins and nods. The elevator arrives and whisks you both down to the ground floor and Richard escorts you out to his BMW and the two of you take off.

“Where do you want to go eat at, Love?” he asks. You think for a bit, then grin. “How about we get a pizza, and a bottle of wine and have a picnic by the lake?” you ask.

He looks at you surprised, and you grin. “All right, Love, whatever makes you happy.” He tells you with a chuckle. You look at him for a moment, what would you pick if it was up to you?” you ask, curious.

He grins and says, “That will be a surprise. For now, we’ll get you your pizza and wine.” He smirks.

You raise your eyebrow, but don’t question him further. You look out at the passing scenery and sigh contentedly. He glances over at you then back to the road. He gives your hand a squeeze. “You all right, Love?” he asks after a little bit.

You nod. “I’m just curious. It seems like Graham was having fun playing matchmaker.” You reply as you look over at Richard. He keeps a straight face, despite knowing he asked Graham to do so after hearing him rant about you all afternoon and especially after meeting you at the bar. “Is that so?” he asks. “What makes you say that?” he asks with a raised eyebrow.

“He just encourages me a lot when we talk, and he is always talking about you and how you’d take care of me and would be a great boyfriend for me.” You tell him. “I think he and Scarlett planned to kidnap me after work yesterday so I would have to come to the party. There is no way he could’ve gotten from your place to the studio in the amount of time that lapsed between me texting Scarlett and me arriving.

He was already in the car, and it was parked on the side of the street when I got there with Todd after looking at the apartment. The engine on Graham’s jaguar was cold, so he had been there long enough that the hood was cool to the touch.

Now that I think of it, he had been into my work earlier yesterday afternoon and we had to shoo him out along with a bunch of other guests when we closed.” You tell him as you put your free hand to your chin and rub it, thinking.

Richard glances at you and you see a surprised look on his face.

You grin. “I think he knew about your party and planned to ‘conveniently’ be nearby to pick me up and used Aiden’s tendency to get hammered as an excuse. I suppose Scarlett texted him where to pick me up and he just went there, parked and read his book till I showed up.” You say.

Richard struggled to keep a straight face, annoyed that you figured out their plot to get you to the party so quickly.

“Is that so?” he replies. “Well, Graham likes you, sweetheart. It wouldn’t surprise me if he had fun meddling like that. He kind of thinks of you as his kid, you know.” He tells you.

You look at Richard in disbelief. “What?”

He grins seeing you thrown off track. “Yup. Scarlett told him you didn’t have any family left so I guess he took it upon himself to take you under his wing and be a father figure.” He chuckles. “He even gave me ‘the talk’ and told me that if I screwed up enough courage to ask you out, that I better be good to you or he’d beat my head in.” Richard chuckles.

You put your head in your hand and groan, making Richard laugh. “Don’t worry, Sweetheart, he is thoroughly enjoying it. He doesn’t get to see his girls very often cuz of his acting. So, let him have his fun. I don’t mind.” Rich tells you.

“All right.” You say as Richard pulls into a pizza place and the two of you get out of his car. You both head into the pizza place and order a medium pepperoni pizza. They tell you it will be ready in about 15 minutes.

Richard asks if there’s a liquor store anywhere nearby and they tell you there’s one a block away. He asks if you want to wait here for the pizza or come with him. You opt to join him, and you pay for the pizza and then tell them you’ll be back in 15 minutes.

Rich ushers you to the car and opens the door for you. You get in and the two of you head for the liquor store. You think about getting wine, then realize that you’re meeting with cops afterward. You mention it to Rich and say, “Maybe we better do something that is not alcoholic this time since we will be meeting with cops and a retired officer and detective.” You suggest. He pulls over and parks on the side of the road.

He smirks and nods. “Yeah, that’s a good idea, now that you mention it. What did you have in mind then?” he asks.

“What kind of pop do you like? I don’t have pop often, but I’d be okay with pop this time.” You tell him.

Chuckling, he says, “I’ll drink almost any pop, sweetheart.”

You grin. “Rootbeer it is then!” and he grins and rolls his eyes. He leans over the center console and grabs your face and kisses you. “You’re just so cute.” He tells you with laughing eyes.

You give him a beaming smile and tell him, “You’re cute too! Sweet cheeks.” You smirk.

You see his ears get pink and he grins and kisses you again. The two of you spend your 15 minute wait for the pizza in the car, kissing and talking. Then he drives back to the pizza shop and you run in while he waits and you grab the pizza, plates, napkins, and buy two 20oz bottles of root beer and head back to the car.

You hand the pizza to him and put the bag with the rest of the stuff on the floor by your feet, and then buckle up. He hands you the pizza back and he pulls out of the parking lot and heads for the lake. The two of you find a nice spot with a picnic table and sit down to eat.

It’s a beautiful day and the two of you have a fun time. Some ducks come over and you toss them the inside part of the crust from your pizza and they happily eat it. Richard takes a couple pictures of you feeding the ducks out of your hand and then the two of you pack up and head back to the car.

He leans against it and pulls you in for a kiss. “That was fun, Sweetheart. We should do this again sometime.” He tells you. You nod.

“Ready to head out?” he asks, as he looks at his watch.

“Yup.” You reply.

He stands up and opens the door for you and helps you in, then closes the door and gets in on his side.

The two of you head over to the precinct and arrive a little before 1pm.

@dondarrion16 @criminally-supernatural @hilary456 @fizzyxcustard @thetherianthropydaily @ratv0miit @emrfangirl @midnight-reader-morning-sleeper

#The woman in black leather #harley #richard armitage #aiden turner #scarlett #graham mctavish #running errands #budgeting #dog research #picnic on the lake #first date #pizza and rootbeer #it's a secret #gifts

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xellandria · 4 years

Text

tw: death

My father died sometime last night. My mom woke me up at around 4:20 (blaze it?), after she found him, ran around in a panic for a bit (her words), and called 911. I’d only gone to sleep a couple hours earlier, and neither of us had checked on him until then (he went to bed much earlier than the two of us ever do) so it’s hard to say when it would have happened; we might learn more later, or we might not. I’m not actually sure how much more information we’ll get—or want, really—when whatever examination happens happens, or if there will be an examination/autopsy/whatever. All I know about that kind of thing comes from media, and it’s always convenient for media to have an autopsy.

About nine months ago, he was out on a hike and slid down some scree and hurt his back in some way. Prior to the whole pandemic, he’d been going through all sorts of various treatments and tests to figure out what was wrong and how to fix it, but he’d been in pain for a while. Supposedly it was at least getting a little better with time—mom says he hadn’t taken his pain meds for the last fifteen days or so—but it was definitely there, and he hadn’t been exercising much (if at all) as a result, and gained a lot of weight from the inactivity.

About a week ago, he started coughing and having trouble breathing, and apparently was having issues sleeping as well. He called his doctor about it yesterday, and they had him go get tested for Covid. The results for that won’t be back til Mondayish, but it’s sort of a moot point now, I suppose. Well, partly moot—if he tested positive, mom and I definitely have to be a lot more nitpicky about our own health. We’ve not been going out except as absolutely necessary, but I can’t help thinking that we did go to Walmart and Costco on the 16th and while he was wearing a mask of some sort on that trip, his mask procedure was not the best and that was about a week ago. That’d be a little fast for Covid symptoms I think, but maybe?

I don’t know. I wasn’t hearing much about it (we’ve been on different tracks for the past week so I haven’t seen much of him) but when we were talking to various relatives about an hour ago, mom seemed to imply that it was a lot of trouble breathing—which makes me ask why he didn’t do something about it if it was really that bad, but that’s not something I can or should ask at this point; I can’t ask him and giving her more to agonize about or regret is absolutely pointless (I still beat myself up on bad days for not being sterner about getting Emmett to a vet when I knew he wasn’t fully right, and he died like five or six years ago at this point; I absolutely do not want to inflict that kind of thing on my mother about her husband, for god’s sake, and I didn’t push harder for my own health and safety when I was having heart issues last year until I finally caved and went to the ER; I could have made that trip a lot sooner too instead of fucking around with my doctor half-ignoring me and limply running tests for six months).

Because it’s just me and mom out here on this coast, we’re probably not going to have a funeral. Things would probably be different if we weren’t in the middle of a pandemic (his sisters might want something, I don’t think we thought to ask), but they can’t come out here and we can’t go over there and neither of us really want to deal with it. She knew his preferences (at least for disposal—he wanted to be cremated) so we’ve got that under control, at least.

I’m sure it’s partly shock, but I definitely feel guilty as hell that I’m glad that the pandemic is giving us a good excuse to not have a funeral. Maybe he would have wanted one? I don’t know. I know my own preferences (only if my survivors need it for themselves; I don’t believe in ghosts or anything like that, but the idea of death and corpses and such spooks me something awful and funerals and burials and such are obviously the worst for that) and mom was the one who said no when I asked her if she wanted one (though maybe I should ask again when we’re both less shocky). If the dead do exist beyond death in some capacity, I hope he understands that it’s not that we don’t love him... but that’s a lot of money and time and mental energy for a lot of pomp and circumstance that doesn’t make... well, I was going to say “doesn’t make anybody feel better” but someone must get comfort from that kind of thing, even if I’m not sure I’ve ever met anyone who has.

There’s a lot of unknowns right now. Dad was the one who handled all the household finances and I know he never went over it all with me, and I got the impression that he and mom never got around to it either (though we both mentioned that it was something we’d been thinking about, it’s obviously too late now). Mom’s worried about the taxes, and what bills are on auto-pay and all that, and it’s going to be a nightmare to go through his computer and phone and make sure all that stuff is handled... but that’s not today’s worry. I mean, I almost wish it was—it’d give me something to do now that we’re done talking to the EMTs and the police and the people from the funeral home and calling the relatives (and before I work up the nerve to call his old work friend, who is the only other person I can think of that deserves to know), but it’s also not something to walk into with two hours of sleep and a broad-but-vague understanding of how to access the data, but not what to do with it.

I haven’t cried yet, and I feel guilty about that too (though again, I’m putting it down to shock). Cat death/injury is so triggering to me that I burst into tears nearly at the mention/thought of it, but my own father is gone and I’m just sitting at my computer, typing out a lengthy essay about how I want to consider myself a piece of shit for it, but I know it’s all part of the process, etc. etc. I remember when my parents woke me up to tell me my maternal grandmother had died, I definitely cried then (and was angry) so I know it’s possible for me to feel things, or was at one point. I’m sure the depression isn’t helping (and the fact that I think my med dosage may not be good enough anymore).

I’m sort of glad for the pandemic too, for the social distancing and masks that all the strangers that came to our home at 4-6am were wearing because I haven’t taken a shower in a couple days and I am disgusting and unshaved, but hopefully they didn’t notice. At least they didn’t comment on it in my hearing, so I can maybe hopefully pretend.

Anyway. I’m currently distracting myself by writing this out, but there’s not much more I want to say at this point. I’ve posted out of my guild’s raids indefinitely for the moment (it was the first thing I did after I got out of bed while we were waiting for the EMT, and the second was tweet about it; my priorities are so fucked, y’all). I don’t really know whether I’ll be able to stay on top of D&D—it’s only once a week, it’s a much smaller group of people who are much less likely to make some sort of unthinking or triggering remark (frankly, the idea of listening to my guild leader and some of the non-raiders talk about their jobs as doctors/upcoming medical practitioners is absolutely not what I need in my life right now, and I can’t tell 19+ other people to watch every word that comes out of their mouths or from their fingers above and beyond the guild rules because it might make the baby cry (or tilt her off the face of the earth)... but I can probably get away with asking only four other people to do that) and it’s not like we’re doing much where there might be schedule conflicts. I’m gonna have to tell them for sure (well, Naha knows cos he follows me on twitter, and Kattii might cos she also follows me but I’m not sure if she keeps up with her timeline, but I don’t think the others do). I should definitely not isolate myself entirely—I don’t know a lot right now, but I know that’s a real bad idea no matter how depressed I was before this happened—so I may keep the D&D up.

I’m not sure if I should go to the Sunday Jaina runs or not, since I won’t really be part of the prog team and shouldn’t take mounts out of the mouths of people who will actually be around. I already felt kinda guilty about going to last week’s when I’d posted out of raid for mental health reasons (and had missed the week before’s entirely for same). I dunno. I’ve got a day and change to think about that one, and what I want to do with myself.

Oh, and M+ is a thing too isn’t it, fuck me. I dunno. If I do Jaina and I do D&D, I should probably at least do the M+ too; it’s only one or two runs a week even if it has been stressful because we’ve been scrambling for a filler every week for a few months now (Intol’s been wrapped up in the whole pandemic thing on his side of life, and none of us have had the time or energy to find a consistent/reliable filler until he’s ready to come back). At least I have a good excuse to not be the one scrambling for that weekly filler anymore, eh? lol :T That’s also a small group size so that should be all right. Jaina will be touchy for the larger group size reason too actually, now that I think about it (although I can probably get away with not being on discord for most of the run).

I dunno. I’m rambling now, and now I’m also rambling at Naha in DMs so maybe I should stop rambling in at least one location.

#xellafail #tw: death #just in case you needed a second trigger warning #god today's a day and it's only been five hours #actually five hours is a lot more than I thought it was gonna be #so there's that I guess lol

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lilacmoon83 · 4 years

Text

Lightning in a Bottle

Also on Fanfiction.net and A03

Chapter 14: Dinner Party

David straightened his crooked bowtie, but no matter how many times he tried to get it to stay straight, it seemed to defy him. He sighed and turned, as he heard Margaret come out of the bathroom. And as usual, he was stunned by her incredible beauty.

"Wow…" he uttered, as she floated to him in a white evening dress that glittered. It had a collar that dipped into a subtle v and was sleeveless with modest straps. The bodice hugged her supple curves and stopped at her knees, allowing a generous view of her beautiful legs and she wore matching low heels.

"I take it you like?" she asked.

"Like is an understatement...you take my breath away, but then you always have," he replied, as he slipped his arms around her waist. She smiled and managed to straighten his bowtie and it stayed.

Ready for this?" he asked.

"Oh...definitely not, but I still want to go," she replied. He nodded.

"Me too and hopefully, he's genuinely happy for our reunion and not out to make a buck on the story or something," he said.

"He has one last chance and if he blows it...then that's it. I'll never speak to him again," she replied.

"Well, I hope for your sake that you don't have to do that," he said.

"Me too...but I don't even know him anymore and my life is with you and our children. Tonight is mainly about making sure that he doesn't attempt to hurt the people I love by exploiting the fact that he's the father-in-law and grandfather to two of the returning passengers," she replied.

"Well…I didn't want to say it, but I'm a little worried about that. But maybe more worried that it's our son he might exploit. Henry is already attracting a lot of attention with the media, being that he was dying before the plane and when he came back...there's a cure now," he lamented.

"And if one camera takes a picture of my baby...I'll roast him and them," she promised and he chuckled.

"Is it bad that I'd love to see that?" he asked and she gave him a sultry kiss.

"What? That you like seeing your wife be a badass?" she teased and he pulled her close.

"Yeah...that…" he purred, as they kissed again.

"Not at all. I mean, I know I get turned on when you get all protective," she said, as she nuzzled her nose against his. Their lips met again and the kiss grew passionate, until they heard the door open.

"Yep...you were right, Ollie. They're making out again!" Henry called and their lips parted.

"Very funny, mister. Where is your bowtie?" Margaret asked.

"Do I have to wear it?" Henry whined.

"Yes...and you'll look so handsome, just like daddy," Margaret said, as she helped him with it and then kissed his cheek.

"Wow...look at you," David said, as he saw his daughter in a maroon dress and she looked down shyly.

"You look beautiful," he said wistfully.

"Thanks Dad ," she said, as they made their way out to the car.

"Isn't Aunt Emma coming?" Henry asked.

"She's meeting us there," David replied, as he backed out of the driveway and they drove away.

~*~

Mr. Gold stared at the photo once more, as he sat in the briefing room. They were going over the same simulation of the described conditions on that night, according to the pilot and co-pilot. Severe turbulence, wild, dark lightning, and a massive storm that had seemingly come out of nowhere.

"Mr. Gold...you've certainly been quiet. Do you have anything to add?" Vance questioned. He looked up and pocketed the photo again.

"No…I have no wild theories about wormholes or alternate dimensions to throw out. You all seem to have that covered," he expressed.

"I take it you don't subscribe to either of those possibilities," one of the Generals asked.

"Well, perhaps they are more likely than the tabloid stories about the passengers being demons or aliens. And personally, part of me would cheer if this ended up being some sort of...magic. But I think discussing all this is moot," he replied.

"So sorry we're boring you, Mr. Gold," Vance said, as they shared a look.

"It's moot until we get the autopsy results on Tisbe Taylor. I mean, that's what we've all been waiting for, am I correct? A passenger body to slice and dice," he added.

"That is enough, Mr. Gold. If you want to continue to consult on this case, then you'll start offering constructive input," the General said.

"Oh don't fret, dearies...I assure you that I plan to gather plenty of intel. But I think mine will come from the living passengers," Gold replied.

"Remind me again why this man is consulting with us at all, Director Vance?" the General asked impatiently.

"You know the answer to that, General. He's good at what he does and dealing with the unexplained," Vance offered, as the meeting continued. Truthfully, he would normally have no interest in working with the government on anything, but he had his own personal mystery to get solved and somehow, he knew the plane was connected. And more so, he had an intense feeling that the Nolan family would be the ones to solve it for him.

~*~

"Wow Em...that's a great dress," Margaret complimented, as she arrived right behind them in a wine colored dress.

"You two...damn MM," she commented.

"I know...she looks incredible, but then you always do," David said, as he wrapped his arms around her. They noticed the multitude of cars, but thankfully no reporter vans, so they approached the door. A man answered, the butler, they assumed, and allowed them in.

"Mary Margaret," Leopold said and she gave him a sharp look.

"Ah...forgive me, old habits die hard. Margaret," he corrected himself.

"It's so good to see you," he said, as he turned to David.

"And David...you've pulled off quite the miracle it seems. I am happy that my Margaret has you back," he added, as he offered his hand. David shook it with skepticism in his eyes.

"Me too…" he replied.

"And these must be my grandchildren…" he said. Margaret nodded.

"Father...this is Henry and Olive," she said.

"It's very nice to finally meet you, Henry and Olive. Come...dinner is nearly ready," he replied, as they followed him into the dining room and saw a woman approach.

"Hello dear," Cora cooed, as she brought him a glass of wine.

"Thank you, my dear," he said, as he accepted the drink.

"Leopold...aren't you going to introduce me?" she asked.

"Of course, forgive me. Margaret...this is my wife, Cora," he replied.

"Oh, it's lovely to meet you, dear," she said, though to Margaret it seemed fake.

"You are lovely...just like your mother," the woman mentioned.

"You...you knew my mother?" Margaret questioned.

"Oh yes...I knew your parents, long before I married Leopold," she said.

"Yes…Cora has been a member of our circle for a long time. She was married to the son of a former business associate of mine from years ago. After your mother died...we reconnected after her divorce," he explained.

"Convenient," Margaret muttered, as they heard another voice.

"David? Margaret?" Regina asked, as she saw them and used it as an excuse to escape the stuffy Wall Street mogul that her mother had pushed her to converse with.

"Regina?" she asked.

"Oh...you know each other?" Cora questioned, feigning ignorance.

"Henry is one of my patients," Regina replied.

"And you were on the plane together. Such a small world," Cora said.

"Yes...so it would seem," Regina replied, as Cora and Leopold took their seats at the table.

"Cora is your mother?" Margaret asked.

"Unfortunately. I take it that Leopold is your father," Regina replied.

"Estranged father...we only came here to see what he was up to. We expected reporters or something," Margaret replied.

"And instead, you got a step-sister and an evil step-mother," Regina quipped.

"That bad, huh?" Emma asked.

"Don't let my mother's fake sweetness fool you. She's up to something...she's always up to something," Regina replied.

"Usually my father is too," Margaret warned.

"Well...this dinner should be a blast," Olive quipped.

"But it's like a spy mission still, right?" Henry asked. David chuckled.

"Oh definitely, kid...because something is going on here," he replied, as they took their seats at the dinner table. There was already staring among Leopold's friends and colleagues, which was uncomfortable at best.

"So...Emma is it? You are David's sister?" Leopold asked.

"Yep," she replied.

"And what is it that you do for a living?" Leopold questioned.

"I'm a cop," he replied,

"Oh...how terribly grisly," Cora commented, but Emma took it in stride.

"It has those moments, but it's really rewarding when you put bad people behind bars," the blonde said.

"Yes...and David, what is it that you do again?" Leopold asked.

"Um, well...before the plane, I was an associate professor," David replied.

"David has a master's degree in mathematics," Margaret boasted.

"Ah, a number's man. I have many of those on my team," Leopold said.

"Yes, quite an advanced degree, like my Regina," Cora commented, earning her an eyebrow raise from the doctor. Her mother had never before expressed that she approved or understood Regina's profession. In fact, when Regina had insisted on going to med school, Cora had attempted to talk her out of it and wanted her to pursue in high finance, stating that she could become like a Queen if she got in with the right people.

"But teaching...I'm not sure I would have the patience for that," Cora added.

"Uh well...Margaret and I love teaching. We feel like we're at least making a difference, for some kids anyway," he replied awkwardly, as he noticed the pensive look on his wife's face. He could almost see the gears turning in her head and was hardly surprised by her next question.

"You know...I'm still surprised that you knew my mother. She never mentioned you," Margaret said, looking Cora in the eyes. The older woman stared back, engaged in a battle of wills with the raven haired beauty.

"Well...you were so young, dear. And Eva and I were not close...just acquaintances," Cora answered.

"I was young...but I remember everything about my mother," Margaret said, almost as if she was challenging the woman to argue with her.

"Of course you do," Cora said with a fake sweetness.

"Hey Mom...can we go out into the garden?" Henry asked, as he pointed at other guests mingling in the lit garden. As always, like her husband, he was swooping in to save her. Her big Charming and her little Charming.

"Sure sweetie...I think a little fresh air sounds nice," she said, as she got up and took his hand.

"I'm all for that," Emma agreed, as David and Olive got up with her.

"Yes...a nightcap in the garden sounds lovely," Leopold agreed, as they followed, with their wine in hand, and mingled with some of their other guests, while the tight knit Nolan family gathered by the lit fountain in the garden.

"I am so sorry about my mother. I love her, but she's a really terrible person sometimes," Regina admitted. Margaret nodded.

"It's not your fault...and my father fits in very well with her," she said. Regina snorted.

"No argument there. I bolted from my mother's house the moment I got accepted into medical school," she said. Margaret nodded.

"I left this house...after my mother died mostly. I spent most of my time at David and Emma's house. Robert is more of a father to me than Leopold ever was, even at his worst," she said sadly and felt David's arms around her waist. She leaned back against him and took solace in his embrace.

"Maybe this was a bad idea...let me take us home," he suggested. She was about to agree when Regina gasped and dropped her glass.

"Save him," the gray, stone angel said that was suddenly in her line of vision.

"Regina...are you okay?" Margaret asked in concern, trying to stay quiet to keep the other guests attention off them.

"You saw something...didn't you?" David whispered.

"You say that like it's a common thing," Regina said, as she got her bearings back.

"Darling, are you okay?" Cora asked, with concern.

"I'm fine, mother...the glass slipped from my hand," Regina replied. Thankfully, one of the guests called for Cora's attention and she left them.

"You came to the hanger too, when the plane exploded. You're getting them too," David said.

"Getting what?" Regina asked.

"Feelings...sometimes voices…" he whispered and she gave him a look.

"I know what it sounds like, but it's okay. David and Emma have been having them too, but it's not crazy," Margaret said.

"I wish I could believe that, but you didn't see it," Regina argued.

"Then what did you see?" Emma asked.

"I'm...I'm not even sure, but it was like a statue of an angel or something. Except it was talking to me and telling me to "save him"," she said in a hushed whisper.

"A calling…" Emma said.

"What?" Regina asked.

"It's something Tisbe Taylor kept saying before she was killed. I think that's as good of a name as any for...whatever this is," Emma replied. Regina sighed.

"Well…I was going to wait to talk to you about some of my findings until morning, but then I didn't expect to see all of you here," she said.

"What findings?" David asked curiously.

"Not here...I know my mother. She cannot know that any of us are having visions," Regina warned. Margaret nodded.

"My father too...he'll make a spectacle of the people I love most and I won't have that," she said. As she turned, she was proven right, as a camera flashed in her face.

"What the hell?" David asked the man.

"Ah, forgive me...this is a good friend of mine from the New York Times. I promised him an interview about being reunited with my lovely daughter," Leopold replied.

"Yes...it's quite a story. A mother, who lost her 828 daughter and a father, whose estranged daughter lost three members of her family to the plane as well. And now, you've all come together. People love a puff piece like this," the reporter said.

"I knew it…" Margaret said angrily.

"Margaret please…" Leopold said sternly.

"I wish I could say that I can't believe that you would do this and use my family for some media stunt, but I expected this actually. I just hoped I was wrong," she said sadly.

"Margaret...I live my life in the public eye and there is no denying that you are the center of quite possibly the biggest mystery of the century. It is something I have to address. I am unable to go into a meeting without being asked about my son-in-law and my grandson, the passengers. I thought one interview would give my investors assurance they need," Leopold stated.

"No...you want fame, but we do not. My family will not be the gossip for you and your rich friends," she spat.

"Oh you've long ago been the spectacle in my circle, ever since you ran away to live with your boyfriend at twelve and were sleeping in his bed by sixteen. You made yourself the spectacle a long time ago," he said sternly.

"Okay...you're done. You're not going to talk to my wife like that," David said, as he got in the old man's face. Leopold smirked.

"She is my daughter...I'll speak to her as I please," he replied.

"No...she hasn't been your daughter in a very long time. But she is my heart and soul and this was never about reuniting with her. This was about getting some kind of sick revenge and blowing up our lives in the media," he said. Leopold smirked and didn't deny it.

"But it isn't going to work. My wife and daughter went through hell for five years, but now we have a second chance and no one, least of you, is going to ruin that. So do your worst, old man...because you'll never destroy our love," he hissed, as they stared each other down.

"I see there is no hope for amends then," Leopold said.

"You never wanted amends. You want headlines," David retorted, as Margaret slipped her hand in his and they walked out. Regina followed them, until Cora stopped her for a moment.

"Regina…" she said, but she shrugged her mother off.

"Did you really think I'd want to talk to the press?" she hissed.

"Sweetheart...this is an amazing story. Think of all the good that could come from telling them about your cure for cancer," Cora reasoned.

"You don't care about my cure...and I'm not letting you and your husband exploit one of my patients to the cameras. He's just a little boy...and your husband is disgusting for the way he just treated his own daughter and her family," Regina hissed.

"Well, I was hoping you'd be different than that little tramp, but I see that's not going to happen," Cora said. Regina narrowed her gaze.

"What do you have against Margaret? You just met her," Regina said.

"Yes...and everything Leopold told me about her seems to be true," Cora replied. Regina scoffed and walked away, before catching up to the Nolans at their car.

"I'm so sorry about her…" she apologized.

"It's not your fault. But you didn't get to finish telling us what you found," Margaret mentioned. She nodded.

"We could get ice cream and then she can tell us," Henry chimed in and they chuckled, as he effectively dissolved the tension.

"You know, that sounds good. Why don't we pick some up and you can come to our house," Margaret suggested. Regina nodded.

"I'll follow you," she said, as they got into their cars and drove off, leaving Leopold's mansion behind without another thought.

#Snowing #SnowxCharming #Snowing AU #Emma Swan #Regina Mills #Henry #Manifest #with a Once twist #AU #romance #family #adventure #drama #mystery #Lightning in a Bottle

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dvp95 · 5 years

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quiet on widow’s peak (6)

pairing: dan howell/phil lester, pj liguori/sophie newton/chris kendall rating: teen & up tags: paranormal investigator, mystery, online friendship, slow burn, strangers to lovers, nonbinary character, trans character, background poly, phil does some buzzfeed unsolved shit and dan is a fan word count: 2.9k (this chapter), 19.7k (total) summary: Phil’s got a list of paranormal experiences a mile long that he likes to share with the world. Abandoned buildings, cemeteries, and ghost stories have always called his name, and a particular fan of his has a really, really good ghost story.

read this chapter on ao3 or here!

Hope my friends and I didn't make things weird for you yesterday. We're heading to the city around noon if you're still up for helping us with the boring part.

noon?? fucking alright i guess i gotta put pants on

lmao yeah, sorry. My parents woke us up at EIGHT like that's a normal time to be awake????

desgostang

What?

ill send u the link later and also no i didnt feel weird yesterday you guys are nice

That's good! And hey I wanted to ask. You were kind of put on the spot with introducing yourself, would you rather we called you Dan or Winnie? I just wanna make sure we aren't making you uncomfortable at all lmao

no its all fine you can call me dan idc and actually its best if you do call me dan when youre in my work lmao

Are you totally sure?

why would i lie abt this. dont be an idiot it isnt a good look on you

haha okay. I’ll see you around noon.

“Christopher is a nice boy,” Phil’s mum is telling him as she helps him with their fancy new coffeemaker. There are so many buttons and Phil is so, so tired. “And Sophie is lovely, such a soft-spoken thing. Why haven’t we met them before, dear?”

“Dunno,” Phil says instead of the truth, which is that he’d had no idea how he was supposed to introduce them. “You have now, though.”

His mum laughs and reaches up to pat his cheek. “True enough. I’m so happy that you’ve got good people around you, Philip. I’ve gotten quite worried about you down there by yourself, you know.”

“I’m not by myself,” says Phil. “I live with, like, thirty people.”

“Bunch of strangers, I’ll bet,” she says, because she knows him. “Aside from those three.”

The thing is, she’s not wrong. Phil’s obviously exaggerating about the number of people under the roof of the creaky Brighton house, but the truth is that he can’t keep track half the time. A lot of the rooms get sublet out randomly, or a significant other will start spending so much time around the place that they might as well pay rent, and Phil really isn’t good with new people. He gets along fine with Holly and Dave, but they’ve been there as long as he has and the closest they’ve ever come to a heart-to-heart was comparing anxiety meds over burned pancakes.

Chris and Sophie were there when Phil moved in, and they’d taken one look at him and decided to just keep shoving into his space until he liked having them there, like they were on a mission to adopt PJ’s sad, ghost-obsessed friend from the internet.

“You might be right,” Phil says, feeling a smile tug at his lips for the first time all morning. He’s already had a coffee - and a half, when PJ declared that not even Kath could make coffee taste good and shoved the rest of his Phil’s way - but he still doesn’t feel fully awake. “I’m only really friends with Chris and Soph because of PJ.”

“PJ is a good friend to you, isn’t he?” his mum hums. That slightly pointed tone doesn’t get to Phil the way it usually does, because he knows that she’s just trying to understand him.

It doesn’t escape Phil’s notice that he’s looking into a mirror whenever he sees his parents watching him carefully, waiting for him to tell them something he hasn’t explicitly said, because he’s been doing the exact same thing to his housemates for nearly two years.

Maybe he’ll tell his parents when he’s got someone serious or even, like, semi-serious. Longer than two dates would be a record at this point. But right now he already feels like he’s been one misstep away from disappointing them, and he doesn’t want to take the gamble that his sexuality will be that misstep.

He’s not up for this conversation, though, isn’t sure he’ll ever be, so he just says, “Yeah, he is.”

Dan is late. They’re so late, actually, that Phil’s wheel of worst case scenarios has been spinning silently and getting faster and faster the more caffeine he chugs. They roll in with flushed cheeks and a jacket that looks too thin, apologies on their shiny lips that Phil doesn’t even hear for a couple of seconds because he’s too busy staring at them.

“No worries,” Sophie says, interrupting their rambling before they lose another half hour to it. “You want something? I’m getting a refill.”

“No, no, let me,” says Dan. They shrug off their jacket and hang it on one of the empty chairs. Phil and his friends have co-opted the largest table in the place so they can spread out with their laptops and notebooks, and it doesn’t escape Phil’s notice that Dan has decided to sit next to him when they’ve got a couple of options. “I get free drinks if Gabe’s in a good mood. Anyone else need a refill?”

“Me,” Chris says, not looking up from his screen. “Not Phil. He’s cut off.”

“Hey,” Phil protests weakly. His heart rate really has picked up since they sat down, so he knows Chris has a point.

Dan grins, their soft cheeks giving way to the dimples that Phil is very quickly growing obsessed with. He just wants to make Dan smile and laugh constantly, to hear them cackle and see all the lines in their round face deepen with happiness.

Right. Phil watched a horror movie with PJ instead of unpacking this fluttering start of a crush last night, and now he’s just got to deal with it for the rest of the day.

As if it’s a compulsion, Dan clears the empty mugs from their table before heading up to the counter. Phil focuses on the EMF readings so he doesn’t get caught up on Dan holding four mugs by the handles with total ease.

PJ has got headphones on and his eyes closed, so he might not even have noticed that Dan is there. He’s been going through Sophie’s footage and his own audio recordings to try and find some anomalies while Chris looks for the weird visual stuff - they’re a great team at that, and it makes Phil feel like he’s not doing enough. Sure, he could find those things on his own, but not as quickly as they can when it’s a team effort, and they’re on a bit of a tight schedule here. Well, his housemates are. They’ve got actual jobs to get back to once the weekend is over.

Allegedly, Sophie is doing research on sigils, but it looks to Phil like she’s just doodling. Not that he really blames her if she is. He’s barely been paying attention to the chart he’s making of spikes in electromagnetism because he’s been so busy watching the door for Dan.

And Dan looks… good. They’re wearing chunky boots and a shirt that falls to their thighs - a dress, maybe, but it looks like a regular black t-shirt that got extended at the hem - with tight white jeans. The only colour on them is the plaid shirt around their waist and the shiny red product on their lips to match it. Phil watches them lean against the counter and grin at the older barista, and he’s so distracted by looking at their profile that he startles when a foot connects with his under the table.

“Stop staring,” Sophie says, quiet and smiling. “He’s going to notice.”

Phil considers correcting her, but then he remembers that he probably doesn’t have to. Dan had said any pronouns, that they didn’t care how they were referred to, so it would definitely be weirder to act like he knows better than Sophie.

He knows he won’t be able to use masculine terms for Dan. Not because they aren’t true, because he’s pretty sure they’re no less accurate than neutral or feminine would be, but because thinking of Dan as a maculine person is only going to allow Phil’s brain to fall into the familiar traps of gender in ways he doesn’t want to allow.

Gay monkey brain doesn’t need any more leeway in finding Dan attractive, that’s for damn sure.

“So, what are we doing?” Dan asks, interrupting Phil’s thoughts, and, wow, four mugs is a lot more impressive when they’re full of hot liquid. Phil marvels at Dan’s ability not to trip and spill it all as they dole out the coffee and teas.

“I’m doing the boring part,” says Phil. He turns his screen so Dan can see the Excel spreadsheet and laughs at the face they make. “Yeah. It's not glamorous, but it's the easiest way to find patterns in the EMF readings. Honestly, most of my job is just staring at things and finding patterns in them. Like, uh, what's that guy? With the butterfly splotches?"

"Worcestershire," Chris suggests.

"Rorschach," Dan corrects him, lips twitching like they aren't sure if they're allowed to laugh in Chris' face or not.

“That’s exactly what I said,” says Chris.

“You know EMF meters don’t have anything to do with ghosts, right?” Dan asks, ignoring Chris completely and leaning a bit closer to Phil to get a better look at his laptop. “I mean, none of this has anything to do with ghosts, really, but you’re more or less just measuring electricity.”

Phil is aware of that. He wonders if Dan thinks he just stumbles into haunted houses with equipment he hasn’t researched and waits to be spooked. He’s too distracted by how close Dan is and how good they smell to work up to proper offense, though. “Yeah,” he says simply. “But don’t you think it’s weird that the place still has electricity to begin with? Who’s paying for that?”

“A Wilkins, I’d imagine.”

“But why? If they’ve forgotten about the property or abandoned it on purpose, surely they wouldn’t still pay the bills.”

“Maybe they don’t handle their own finances,” Dan suggests. “How rich were these assholes?”

“I honestly don’t know,” says Phil. He taps his fingers in an erratic pattern on the edge of his laptop, trying to spark something in his mind.

It’s almost disappointing when Dan pulls away to dig out their own sleek Macbook out of their messenger bag, but Phil is also glad for it. He can think a lot easier when the warm scent of spice and mint isn’t clogging his brain.

Dan slots into the work as easily as if a space was left for them. They’ve got dozens of tabs open already and they start to go through them, cross-referencing magic things with Sophie in quiet tones and digging deeper into the Wilkins family than Phil ever would have thought to. Every so often they tap Phil on the arm and drag him into whatever rabbithole they’ve fallen down, chatting animatedly.

Phil knows, objectively, that Dan is a fan of his and that Dan is weird about research. It’s another thing entirely to watch it happen in real time, to see Dan pull up local census PDFs from the eighties and explain why chaos magic is bullshit in the same breath.

An hour or so goes by like that, all of them working on their own things with minimal words exchanged by everybody but Dan, and then Chris shouts loud enough to make the barista jump. Nobody else is in the coffee shop right now, which is lucky, because Dan’s got a hand over their chest and Sophie has slopped tea down her front. PJ, with his headphones on, simply cracks an eye open.

“What the fuck was that about?” Phil asks, putting his own palm against his chest to feel his heart race. Dan raises their eyebrows and looks at Phil, seemingly distracted from the startling, wordless exclamation.

They don’t get a chance to say whatever they’re thinking, though, because Chris is turning his laptop to the rest of the table and grinning wide like the Cheshire Cat. “I found something.”

Everybody gathers round, PJ getting up to lean over the back of Phil’s chair and Sophie getting so far into Dan’s personal space that Phil is certain they’re uncomfortable with it, and then Chris presses play upside down. It’s part of Sophie’s footage, Phil standing in the dim foyer and looking frustrated. Even without sound, Phil can tell that this is when he was arguing with Sophie about going upstairs. He squints, but he can’t see whatever it is that’s got Chris being so loud.

“What am I looking at?” PJ asks when the short clip ends, and Dan hums an agreement. Chris makes a frustrated noise like they’re being obtuse on purpose and rewinds to the beginning.

"There," Chris says, excited like he hasn't been since they got to Manchester. He taps his finger against the laptop screen. "D'you see it? D'you see the shadow?"

Now that Chris has pointed it out, Phil does see something. He moves his own laptop and notebook out of the way to pull Chris’ closer with a frown. Chris lets him do that, bouncing in his seat a little bit.

“That’s straight up a person,” Phil says slowly, tracing the outline of the shadow with the mouse. It’s behind him, in the entry to the kitchen, and it looks tall. Quite a bit taller than Phil, anyway, if he’s remembering that doorframe correctly. He decides to measure it next time they go so he isn’t going off memory. “I knew we weren’t alone in there. Like. I’m not crazy, that’s a human being.”

“That’s what I thought,” says Chris. “But press play.”

So Phil presses play. He watches the shadow stay perfectly still in the kitchen doorway until, suddenly, it’s not there anymore. He blinks, rewinds, and watches it disappear again.

Phil’s caffeinated brain is firing on all cylinders now. He grins and shoves his sleeves up to his elbows before he starts fiddling with the clip. The lighting gets played with until the shadow is more obvious and then he slows it down to 0.25 times speed to see if the shadow really just vanishes.

He presses play again. This time, with a very slow-motion Phil talking in the foreground, he sees the shadow move. It runs sideways, further into the house.

“What the fuck?” Dan breathes.

“We are not going back there without some serious protection,” PJ says, even firmer on the topic now.

“What, like sigils?” Dan asks, their pretty eyes wide even as they scoff. “You’d be better off with a fucking, like, baseball bat, mate. That doesn’t look like something that wants to be your friend.”

“I’ve got a crowbar in PJ’s trunk,” Phil says, absent-minded as he plays with the clip some more.

“Excuse me? When did you put that in my car?”

“Couple months ago.”

“Huh. How have I not noticed?”

“You’re not the most observant person I’ve ever met,” says Phil. He looks up at Chris, who’s got the same exhilarated look that Phil is sure he’s mirroring. They don’t get evidence like this very often, something so clearly there that it’s even got a skeptic’s mind racing. Phil exports the edited clip and then the original, putting them both into the Cloud and emailing them to himself. “Was this the only time you saw it?”

Chris nods, accepting his laptop back when Phil is done with it. “I’ll look through everything again, now that I know what I’m looking for and all, but I think that’s it.”

“Okay, cool.” Phil looks around at his friends and Dan, beaming. “Something weird is happening. I love it when something weird is happening.”

“I hate it when something weird is happening,” PJ says, which is a blatant lie.

“Well, we can’t go snooping around until it’s darker out, anyhow,” Sophie reminds them.

“Wait, we’re snooping?” Dan asks, their voice going up an entire octave in disbelief. “Like… you just saw that someone is there and probably not happy about people sneaking around, right? Don’t you have enough for a video already?”

“We’re spending the night,” says Phil. “It’s what we do.”

“It’s what you do,” PJ corrects him.

“Okay, yeah, you guys don’t have to come if you don’t want to.”

“No, I’m coming,” says PJ.

As if she can’t hear them bickering, Sophie turns to Dan with a sweet smile, her eyes twinkling with the same excitement in Chris’. They love this, just like Phil does. “What about you, Dan?” she asks. “Are you going to have a ghost sleepover with us?”

“There’s no such thing as ghosts,” Dan says, their eyes still glued to the back of Chris’ laptop like they can see the shadow through it.

“Guess you don’t have anything to be afraid of, then,” says Chris.

“Uh, axe murderers, maybe?”

“We know what we’re doing, Dan,” Phil reassures them. He reaches a hand out to pat at their arm, feeling a bit awkward about it. “But you don’t have to come with us if you’re scared.”

That makes Dan’s gaze shift. Suddenly, those brown eyes are staring right into Phil’s soul, defiant and beautiful and impossible to look away from.

“Who said I was fucking scared?”

#phanfic #phanfiction #dnp fic #words words words #quiet on widow's peak #this chapter is a little short thanks to me prioritizing my mental health BUT i am still happy with it #so i hope you like it too #even if you might think the plot is slow!

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phcking-detective · 5 years

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1. Caught Dead with a Beretta

Fic Title: First Blood

Rating: E

Length: 1/33 chapters, ~128k

Tags: Slow Burn, Idiots to Lovers, Trans Character (gavin), Autistic / Asexual / Non-binary Character (nines), BDSM, learning to use good etiquette and safe words, Dom Nines / Sub Gavin, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort

Chapter Tags: suicide, death / murder, verbal hazing

Link on AO3

***

Gavin's sick of working suicides—they're depressing as hell and aren't going to do anything for his promotion. He's just got to the crime scene already wants to go home. It's fucking ass'o'clock in the morning, and he hasn't slept worth shit, so of course Nines texted to let him know about the scene the second he'd finally dozed off.

The elevator ride up to the two thousand square foot loft gives him enough time to get hit with shit, did I take my meds before I left home? Fuck. Maybe?

Goddammit. Maybe he should switch to those patches and gels instead of a weekly injection. Taking his T is the one thing he never, ever forgets, so if he switched to something he could do daily and took his meds for the BPD and ADHD at the same time …

The elevator doors ding open, ruining his train of thought. Nines is here already because he doesn't fucking sleep, apparently. That hot fuckboy he sucked off once—and the beat cop for this side of town—Brayden, is in there too, but Gavin's most recent bout of soul-crippling insomnia has actually worn him down too much to be horny.

Well, too much to put forth the effort for flirting, at least.

"—huh, Nine Thousand?" Brayden says as Gavin walks up.

Nines doesn't respond.

"He's RK nine hundred," Gavin says. "Not like the meme. Super disappointing."

Brayden grins. "Yeah, but I mean like, the movie."

"Nine thousand?"

Gavin frowns, trying to force his stupid idiot brain to think. All he can come up with is 300. Maybe it's a movie based off of that one book? The like, underwater … and submarines. Something-number thousand leagues under the sea? No fuck, that's not nine thousand.

"Two thousand," Brayden says. "And one."

Shit, is that the number of leagues or the title of the movie?

"Man, I am way too fucking tired." Gavin waves him off. "I'm not even into that film shit. I just like action movies."

Brayden heaves a deep sigh. "I've seen your file, Gavin. You're too smart to willingly lump yourself in with the uneducated masses."

"May we proceed with the crime scene, detective?" Nines asks before Gavin can reply.

Brayden flinches a little. The only reason Gavin doesn't get scared himself is because he's gotten used to Nines not breathing or moving—until he suddenly does. Makes people jumpy as shit to realize they forgot about the giant fucking android just standing there.

Not blinking. Or breathing.

"Go ahead," Brayden says with a sweep of his hand, like he didn't just jump half a foot.

"May we proceed with the crime scene, detective?" Nines asks instead of complying.

"Yeah, sure," Gavin grants permission.

Nines proceeds. Gavin tries to hold back a smirk. Brayden's the pretentious kind of asshole who loves explaining shit no one cares about, but he's pretty hot too, and Gavin's not quite ready to burn that bridge to Terra-dick-bia by pissing him off. No, that sounds terrible. The bridge to … mm, dick.

Damn, he's tired.

He follows after Nines, a little worried he might wander off in his sleep-deprived state and get lost in all this square footage of prime fucking real estate. Even saints would have to work to feel sorry for dead people as rich as this.

Finally, he stumbles into a section of the open floor plan that seems to function as the living room. There's a flat screen tv nearly as big as the wall it's mounted on, a coffee table made from a whole chunk of mahogany with a half-full tumbler, and a dead guy sitting in a chair with a gun in his hand and a hole in his head.

The TV still blares out the news, and the vic's own face flashes out at them.

"This the Ponzi scheme guy?" Gavin asks.

"Maverick Russell, age forty-seven." Nines shoves a finger inside the vic's mouth with no shame or preamble. "Blood alcohol level point-oh-nine-seven. The entry wound in his head appears to be consistent with a nine millimeter Beretta."

He takes a small packet out of his Cyberlife jacket pocket and somehow has the coordination to open it one-handed. Gavin wrinkles his nose at the antiseptic smell as Nines sanitizes both hands with the wipe, even though he only touched the vic with one finger. Then he lifts that same finger to the victim's head.

"Hey!" Gavin barks. "What have I told you about that shit?"

Nines stares back at him with that unblinking, lizard-eye look. He touches his finger to the entry wound but doesn't push it in. Just brushes it back and forth, which is somehow way freakier.

"The entry wound in his head is consistent with a nine millimeter Beretta," Nines says.

"Great."

Gavin walks a perimeter around the designated living room space. At first it's just to keep himself awake, but by the second circle, he's got one of those gut feelings. Something about this scene is off. Fuck if he can tell what though, 'cause the victim was drunk, watching his own demise on the news, and has a bullet in his head from the gun in his hand.

"You feel that?" He asks.

Nines cocks his head to the side. "The circulating air temperature is seventy--"

"No." Gavin huffs and starts on another circle. "Do you like … you feel what I’m feeling?"

"Your question is incomprehensible."

Gavin sighs and grinds the heels of his palms against his eyes. He bites back a comment about this being why androids can't make good cops. Fuck knows why he's bothering to be nice now. He just wants to get this shit done and go home.

When he opens his eyes, everything swirls with black spots in front of him. What's bugging him about this? The guy is dead, the gun is in his hand, the news says—

Gavin blinks the spots away and stands in front of the vic. Fake tan, but high enough quality that it'd look real if he didn't live in fucking Detroit. Decently fit, and the open kitchen on the other side of the room has one of those blenders that cost more than his car. The loft's decorated in masculine colors, all brown and navy and black leather.

"Go check out the kitchen," Gavin tells Nines. "Tell me what's in the fridge."

Nines does as he's told, but only after considering it. Gavin takes back the lizard comparisons. He's like a cat. One of those big jungle cats that's smart enough to eat the humans hunting them.

"Dannon Oikos triple blended greek nonfat yogurt, coffee, four pack, five-point-three ounce cups," Nines says. "Dannon Oikos trippled blended greek nonfat yogurt, peanut butter banana, four—"

Gavin rolls his eyes. "Just say yogurt. What else does he got?"

"Yogurt. Eggs. Milk. Sparkling water. Chicken breast. Mayonnaise. Sliced ham. Apples. Protein shakes." Nines opens the freezer. "Chicken breast. Chicken breast. Chicken breast. Chi—"

Gavin starts giggling. He can't help it. Nines turns around and glares at him, deliberately flashing his LED red for a second.

"OK, fuck off, it's late," he says. "I'm like, super tired. Just analyze that shit or whatever and tell me if his food matches any of the latest high protein fad diets."

"Yes," Nines replies so instantly Gavin wonders if he actually even looked it up at all. "The victim's food intake matches the Eight Step Enligh—"

Gavin waves him off. "Yeah, yeah. Cool. Does the bar have gin, vodka, and vermouth?"

Maverick Russell, definitely confirmed for one of those ultra-rich masculine gym types. Not like, an actual gym rat, just that generic rich person level of fitness achieved through liposuction, personal fitness trainers, and the latest fad diet.

"Yes, along with seven other distinct liqueurs." Nines finishes checking the bar and returns to the living room. "How is this information relevant, detective?"

"This drink and that gun don't match," Gavin says when Nines returns.

Nines cocks his head again. "Match."

"Yeah. I don't see any Bond memorabilia in here." Gavin takes another quick glance around, but the entertainment center doesn't display any vintage DVDs, and rich film buffs are not subtle about displaying their collections. "He ever purchased anything like that?"

Nines's LED spins yellow for about half a second this time before he replies. "No. There are no significant purchases of memorabilia relating to the James Bond books or movies present in Maverick Russell's finances."

"OK, then why the fuck does he have a Beretta?" Gavin asks.

Nines looks at the victim, and then back at him. "That is what he shot himself with."

"Yeah, but why," he stresses. "Would this guy—this self-obsessed, rich guy masc, desperate-to-be-cool motherfucker—have a Beretta?"

"It is the tool he used to complete suicide." Nines frowns. "Is there a reason he would not have a Beretta?"

"Because it's a ladies' handgun," Gavin says. "This guy's got three different TV remotes, a flat screen covering an entire wall, jesus, how old is that scotch?"

Nines sticks his finger in it, because of course he does. "One hundred and twenty-three years old, consistent with—"

"Shit, I would've thought this guy was trying too hard when I was twenty and desperate to be cis," Gavin mutters. "Look, I fucking promise you, this particular man literally wouldn't be caught dead with a Beretta—unless he's a James Bond fan. Even then … hey, Brayden!"

"His input is unnecessary, detective." Nines cleans his hands with another sanitary wipe. "If you would be more clear—"

His jaw shuts with a click as Brayden jogs over.

"Hey, you like the Bond movies?" Gavin asks.

Brayden heaves a tortured sigh. "I really prefer foreign movies, but for an American—"

"All right, sure. Would you ever kick it with a Beretta?"

Brayden bites the inside of his cheek, opens his mouth, then closes it with a frown as he thinks about it.

"What if you were like, a super fan?"

"Why?" Brayden glances around the loft with an interested look. "This guy have some collector's memorabilia?"

Gavin shakes his head. "Nah. But why else he's got a fucking Beretta?"

"Well that's not the drink for it," Brayden says immediately, then scoffs. "A scotch?"

"Yeah, and he had the shit to make a martini too."

"Weird. You thinking …" Brayden trails off, then winces. "Ah, shit. We uh, we got a guy a floor down. Said he heard the shot that, you know. But he said it was two bangs. And you know how shit witnesses are about getting anything right, and the TV was on and—"

"That's shit I need to know," Gavin snaps. "Doesn't matter how stupid you think it is, you're the first officer on the scene, you report every-fucking-thing to the responding detective."

"Yeah." Brayden clears his throat. "My bad."

Gavin lets it slide only because now he has something to go on. "Whatever. Check me on the precon for this, RK."

"Preconstruction running, detective."

"So we got two shots." Gavin backs up so he's approaching the living room from twenty feet away. "So we should have two guns. The perp, coming in here, gets shot 'cause the vic's only got the one entry wound, but—"

Nines touches the victim's hand, and then his cellphone buzzes.

The distribution of gunshot residue on Maverick Russell's right hand is not consistent with a Beretta. The gun he fired has a longer muzzle and larger caliber. My preliminary preconstruction matches it to a .500 S&W Magnum. The victim has four registered in his name.

Gavin closes his eyes and rubs the bridge of his nose. Would it fucking kill him to send that in five separate texts like a normal person? Now he's going to look dumb as fuck staring at the screen for five minutes trying to read one paragraph.

OK, he’s got the fifty caliber Magnum, that's easy to read. Longer muzzle, larger caliber, right.

"So the vic has a fifty caliber Magnum instead of a dinky Beretta, makes a lot more sense."

Nines doesn't correct him, so that must have been the gist of the message.

"The perp gets shot—"

"Where's the blood though?" Brayden asks.

Gavin glares at him. "Can you let me fucking work?"

Shit, he's doing it again and this is why no one wants to work with him because they fuck up--everyone fucks up, he knows this, he fucking knows this--and then he just can't let it go but why the hell does Brayden think he's allowed to speak right now when—

He's not in trouble. He's not in trouble, it's just the loft, being in another rich empty room again. None of them are children and he's not in trouble.

His cellphone buzzes.

The floor has been scrubbed clean throughout the loft. I did not realize that was relevant information. I will give you full reports of my analysis moving forward.

That's not too bad to read, and concentrating on making the letters stay still actually helps him cool off a bit for once. Gives him something to look at other than Brayden's pretty, hurt face or the perfect fucking interior design that still feels like when he was thirteen and—

Gavin shoves those memories aside and starts typing out a reply.

just text me that shit

I'll prolly yell if u try telling me about the floors at every crime scene

"Am I dismissed then?" Brayden asks.

Gavin looks up from his phone and can't force out any sort of apology. He never can. And anyway, fuck him. If Brayden wants to get pissy about getting snapped at twice after a legitimate fuck up and interrupting a senior detective mid-sentence, then sure. He can fuck right off.

"Go get the maid," Gavin tells him.

"The … android?" Brayden asks.

"No, the roomba. Yes, the fucking android maid. Someone scrubbed the floors clean."

And the side table.

Gavin doesn't bother with texting back this time. "That where the blood splatter would have hit?"

"Yes, detective," Nines answers out loud.

Gavin turns back to Brayden. "So there's your answer. Get the maid, 'cause I doubt the perp stuck around himself to clean the entire two-thousand square foot floor."

Brayden hesitates.

"She's still here," Gavin asks. "Right, Officer Burton?"

Brayden gives a curt nod, but he breaks into a run as he leaves.

AP700 #480 913 876 is located in the foyer of the building, along with Officers Miller and Abrahamson. I have sent alerts to their cellphones that the AP model is needed for questioning.

Gavin starts to ask how Nines knows that but … isn't this what he was literally designed to do?

"She's not a suspect yet," he says instead. "So cool it, Terminator. And don't hack peoples' phones. That's what the officers have walkie talkies for."

Nines makes a face like Gavin just suggested they all start using smoke signals. He's not exactly the type to go all buddy-buddy on witnesses himself, but they're definitely not going to get anywhere with Nines scaring the thirium out of their one lead.

Gavin takes a moment to wallow in how much he hates this before he calls Hank. At least if he has to be up before dawn, so will that motherfucker.

"We do not need assistance from Lieutenant Anderson," Nines says, his expression souring even further. "Or my predecessor. I recognize that I did not meet the necessary level of efficiency when I neglected to—"

"Hey, this isn't a punishment," Gavin says, tilting the phone down away from his mouth. "I fucking hate Connor too, and when we have an android suspect, I get that's your thing. But right now we have an android witness, and that's his."

"Ahh, fuck," Hank's voice comes out of the phone. "Sun's not even fucking—goddammit, Reed."

"We will be at your location in twenty minutes, Detective Reed," Connor's voice says next.

Gavin stares out into space as what's left of his soul collapses in on itself at the confirmation that those two really are fucking. Not even just fucking, they're sleeping together. In bed, for literal sleep.

"Nines, tell them they're disgusting," Gavin orders. "You can put way more hate into it than me."

"Disgusting," Nines says with a sneer that would put Gavin's mother to shame.

Gavin hangs up before Hank can reply. "I know you lack the capacity and all that shit, but if it makes you not-feel any better, I bet you five bucks the perp's android."

"Based off of what evidence?" Nines asks.

"Took a bullet and kept going." Gavin steps back into place where the perp probably walked in. "He's got the Beretta, but it's just a gun to him. He grabs the vic's gun, maybe disarms him, maybe doesn't even have to after the first shot."

"The blood vessels on the victim's wrist have not been damaged." Nines starts cleaning his hands again even though he hasn't even touched anything this time. "Why would the human stop shooting?"

"TV's on, he's drinking, has a gun out already." Gavin shrugs. "Might have been a suicide interrupted by a murder. Might've fired the first shot just being scared, y'know, gut instinct."

Nines just looks at him.

"Or you don't know, whatever." Gavin rolls his eyes. "But once he realizes what's happening—maybe he couldn't pull the trigger himself, but now here's someone gonna do it for him. Maybe he just sits back down. That still work with your preconstruction?"

"Yes," Nines says. "Along with two thousand, one hundred and fifty-eight other scenarios."

"Whatever. And just like, for the record, don't ask Hank about how this suicidal shit works," Gavin tells him. "Hank might not care, but those are fighting words with Connor."

Nines doesn't move a single centimeter as he stares silently at him.

"And don't fucking fight with Connor, we don't have time for it. Anyway, if anyone gets to pick a fight at a murder scene, it's me. So." Gavin walks up to the chair with his hand pointed like a gun. "The perp gets him back down, shoots him in the side of the head, then switches the guns so the ballistics will match."

"He could have taken the victim's gun." Nines's LED spins a few yellow cycles. "It is registered in his name. The suicide would have looked more authentic."

"And that's why I'm thinking our guy's an android," Gavin replies. "Someone who hasn't ever seen a movie before in his whole life. Thinks a gun is a gun is a gun. I mean, you didn't know why the Beretta was weird, and if you made A Plan to kill a guy with this gun, would you switch it up in the middle?"

Nines's LED immediately hits blue, but it's that fake-blue that means he's really covering up a red. Gavin almost kind of … has a feeling about it?

But then the elevator doors open with Brayden and the android maid inside. Gavin's got a burned bridge, a possible eye witness, and an a murder to deal with. Worrying about his partner's not-feelings will have to wait.

***

1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / 11 / 12 / 13 / 14 / 15 / 16 / 17 / 18 / 19 / 20 / 21 / 22 / 23 / 24 / 25 / 26 / 27 / 28 / 29 / 30 / 31 / 32 / 33

This fic is also available on my Patreon! $1 tier gets you each chapter a week early, so you could be reading chapter two right now~

$2 tier gets you deleted scenes and bonus content--this week, it’s extra scenes about how Nines was found at Cyberlife and how he gets his first apartment

$3 tier gets you access to the first chapters of two new AUs I’m currently writing--an A/B/O universe in which Gavin is a bitter omega and Nines is his android partner determined to help him during his heat; and a Reverse AU where GV200 “Gavin” is assigned as Detective Richard Stern’s sobriety companion

#reed900 #gavin reed #dbh #reed900 fic #dbh fic #ch 1 #uglytrashgoblin

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yeschaoticsheepstarlightposts · 4 years

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15 Things You Should Never Do at the Doctor's Office

Think of your happiest relationships, and there is an honest chance all requires open communication, honesty, and trust. That goes for you and your doctor, too. Lie out of embarrassment, and she or he can't treat you. Show up unshowered to a doctor visit, and she or he won't want to. Ghost her too repeatedly, and a break-up is inevitable.

Be a far better partner and you will recover healthcare.

To uncover what to do—and what to not do—at the doctor's office, Eat This, Not That! Health talked to the country's top docs to seek out the #1 things medical professionals say you ought to avoid at a doctor visit. Read on. Your life depends thereon.

1 Never Be a Passive Listener Nurse Showing Patient Test Results On Digital Tablet Shutterstock Becoming a lively listener, not a passive one, is the No. 1 thanks to being a far better patient, say doctors Mikkael Sekeres and Timothy Gilligan of the Cleveland Clinic. They revealed within the NY Times that too many of their patients nod mechanically at what they're saying, without fully understanding the knowledge being relayed.

The Rx: Asking questions, requesting that the doctor repeat something, taking notes or bringing along a loved one who can do any of the above can assist you to become a life partner in your care.

2 Never Show Up With a Self-Diagnosis and Tell Your Doctor What to try to the patient is angry on doctor due to medical error Shutterstock There's a fine line between a lively listener and being a know-it-all. Consult Google to self-educate, not self-diagnose, says Suzanne Koven, a medical care internist at Massachusetts General Hospital. "I have enormous respect for patients' autonomy and understanding of their bodies, and to some extent, doctors are working with patients during a collaboration," she told Scientific American. "But to pretend that both parties are bringing the identical degree of data to the table is disingenuous. Once during a while, somebody will are available determined that they have an MRI to rule out such and such or this drug to treat such and such, and I'll need to say, 'Whoa, slow down, let's mention you and your symptoms.'"

The Rx: Do your research. Ask questions on anything you do not understand. But leave the diagnosis to your doctor.

3 Never Lie female holding fingers crossed behind her back Shutterstock According to a survey conducted by ZocDoc, almost one-quarter of individuals mislead their doctors. (Women were slightly more likely to love, at 30%, compared to 23% of men.) Embarrassment and fear of being judged were the foremost common reasons given. Stop it right now! "Sugar-coating bad habits or nagging symptoms doesn't help," advises David Longworth, MD, of the Cleveland Clinic. "Your doctors are confidential partners in your care. they have all the knowledge available to assist you to create smart decisions. that has everything from your habits to each medication you're taking, including over-the-counter drugs, herbal products, vitamins, and supplements. If you are not consistently taking medication, ask your doctor about why — including if you cannot afford them."

The Rx: Always be candid. Anything less may be a waste of your time. Leave embarrassment and shame behind. Your doctor is there to enhance your health, not nag you.

4 Never Leave Things Out Man writing at the desk Shutterstock According to the ZocDoc survey, 64 percent of seniors said they've avoided mentioning health issues with their doctor because they didn't think the matter was that serious or worth discussing. None folks want to perform a hypochondriac's soliloquy at the doctor's office, but it isn't the time for false modesty either.

The Rx: If you think that you would possibly get tongue-tied within the moment, write down your symptoms or things you want to debate together with your doctor before your visit.

5 Never Be Late Asian businesswoman watching the watch time worried and scared of getting late to the meeting Shutterstock Remember the last time you sat during a lounge, doing what space was for, for an hour? That's likely because people before you were late for his or her appointments, backing up the entire queue. Reinforcing this little bit of sense may be a doctor who posted on Reddit: "Every outpatient office has time put aside for sick visits, and time blocked off for pre-scheduled visits," wrote _PyramidHead_. "People will often call in when the office opens and invite a sick visit to deal with their pharyngitis, whatever. More times than I can count, the person will say, 'I can't are available until 4:30,' usually the last slot of the day. Which is ok, but once they then don't show up, I'm annoyed. Especially if the last pre-scheduled visit was as 3:15, and that I waited around for an hour — only to possess someone not shows up."

The Rx: Keep your appointments and get on time. Or call to let the doctor's office know what is going on on.

6 Never Be a Jerk to the office Aggressive man yelling at the nurse in the clinic Shutterstock Don't make a scene at the front desk about wait times or rant a few charges mandated by your insurance. "Complaining to the front office about your copay is pointless; they need no control over that," wrote Redditor _PyramidHead_.

The Rx: Be proactive: Call ahead to ascertain if the office is running behind if you would like to, stay informed about insurance features like your deductible, and skim #8 on this list.

7 Never Show Up Unshowered man is taking shower in the bathroom Shutterstock This one's sense (and common courtesy). Unfortunately, judging from postings by medical staff on social media, it's an all-too-common occurrence. Remember when mom asked if you were wearing clean underwear, just in case you were during an accident and ended up in a doctor's care? Mom was right.

The Rx: you do not need to prep like it is a date, but be clean.

8 Not Know What Your Insurance Covers Older patient at woman doctor office paying exam with MasterCard Shutterstock It's near rock bottom of the list of last things any folks want to do: Spend time on the phone with the insurance company. But if you're having a procedure, need medical devices, or are prescribed new medication, it's better to call ahead and sign up than be caught with a bill — and need to spend longer on the phone — after the very fact. If you would like a colonoscopy, the procedure could be covered, but not a specific facility or anesthesiologist.

The Rx: Call ahead to see. If you've got concerns, tell your doctor.

9 Not Know What Medications You're On female physician prescribing pills to an older black male patient Shutterstock This is a frequent complaint voiced by doctors and other medical professionals. If you're seeing a replacement doctor who won't have access to your records, he or she won't mind in the least if you bring along a cheat sheet together with your meds listed. It could prevent drug interactions and large problems down the road.

The Rx: jot your medications and dosages and convey the knowledge along to your doctor visit, or keep it on your phone.

10 Never Ignore Medication Instructions woman takes medicine capsules Shutterstock Always take medication as prescribed. Failure to try to do so is one of the highest complaints medical professionals voice on social media. On Reddit, a doctor going by the nickname AstralResolve explained their frustration with a standard scenario: "' I stopped taking the antibiotics cause I began to feel better. Now I'm sick again and therefore the antibiotics aren't as effective.' Every freaking time. We instruct you disregard, bugs get stronger and more resistant."

Redditor walrustude, a doctor, said noncompliance supported online research was his top gripe: "Straight up refusal to follow medical advice or to comply with taking one pill each day known to dramatically improve symptoms, all because this mommy blog said the simplest thing is apple vinegar or because WebMD suggested cold showers." Your doctor doesn't mind questions supported your research; just don't present them with something you read online as the incontrovertible fact that applies to your particular case.

The Rx: Follow prescription instructions to the letter, and voice any concerns to your doctor.

11 Never Conceal that you've got Stopped Taking Your Medication hand-throwing pills away Shutterstock This is another frequent occurrence, medical professionals say. "People stop taking medications all the time, actually because they feel better or can't afford the value. it is a chronic situation, especially as Americans grow old," writes aging expert Barbara Hannah Grufferman on HuffPost. Remember #3 and #4 on this list — a doctor's visit may be time for total honesty. Anything less is counterproductive.

The Rx: Tell your doctor everything. If finances are a problem, be blunt. (Your doctor or office could also be ready to help with co-pay cards or other solutions.)

12 Never Get Too Many Second Opinions female physician checking male patients vital sign at clinic Shutterstock A second opinion is great. A fifth, not such a lot. "I'm an enormous fan of second opinions," Orly Avitzur, MD, wrote in Consumer Reports. "I encourage my very own patients to hunt them out when faced with a difficult diagnosis or decision, and I have provided them also. But there is a limit. A recent patient was paralyzed by indecision after seeking several medical opinions (I was number seven), all with slightly different recommendations. Medicine frequently involves judgment calls, and sooner or later you will have to trust one among them."

The Rx: Know when to mention when. More information isn't better.

13 Never Bring Relatives Along Who Take Over the Conversation Couple Attending IVF Consultation Shutterstock "While I do not yet bring anyone into my doctor's appointments, I do accompany both my mother and mother-in-law to theirs," says Grufferman. "They are 75 and 83, respectively, and the second set of ears and eyes is usually an honest thing, especially when the doctor is discussing procedures, medicine, and follow-up recommendations. during this case, I think physicians welcome my presence, as long as I do not completely take over. I always take notes and ask the doctor to repeat or review something if I do not understand."

The Rx: Ask well-meaning relatives who come along to your doctor visit to try to more listening than talking.

14 Never Be a No-Show Missed call phone from someone via mobile smartphone while Asian man sleeping on the bed in the late morning Shutterstock "Not only isn't exposure once we were expecting you (and once we have called, texted, emailed, and sometimes all three to remind you that you simply have an appointment) rude and entitled, it also tells me that my time invaluable, which somehow you think that you probably did not need to keep what essentially was a contract that you simply made with me once you made the appointment," writes California physician Rebecca Levy-Gantt during a piece on Medium titled "How to be an honest Patient".

The Rx: If you cannot make your appointment, always let the doctor's office know.

15 Never Ask Your Doctor to Lie A medical doctor making a negative sign for medicine by his finger. Doctor showing forbidden sign Shutterstock This is an enormous no-no. "Sometimes patients will inquire from me to travel back and 'code the visit differently,'" says Levy-Gantt. "I won't change the test codes or the visit codes to accommodate someone, since doing so is a fraud and not an appropriate or legal thing on behalf of me to try to to. Sorry. I will, however, attend bat for a patient (and I have) if I feel a patient needs a specific test done, and therefore the insurance firm denies it."

The Rx: Don't ask your doctor to cheat the system. It's unethical, and do not you would like a physician who's honest in the least times?

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vakariaan · 5 years

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I'd like to send you an ask about healthcare in America, but my character limit ran out. If you don't mind, I will divide it in parts...?

Part 1) I follow your blog for Poldark, but as an American, I noticed your reblog about the healthcare crisis in our country. This is personal to me, because my family has experienced the greed of our insurance companies and pharmaceutical industry firsthand.Part 2) My dad was diagnosed with colon cancer last year, and the cost of surgery and chemo almost bankrupt him. My mother has hyperthyroidism but has no health insurance and doesn’t take her medicine because the cost is too high. I myself lost health insurance for two years after my father retired.Part 3) I don’t know how you feel about Bernie Sanders, but I support him for his lifelong and genuine concern of the gap between the very wealthy and the very poor, and his tireless fight to bring a national healthcare system to our country. Older generations say millenialls support him because we want everything for free - I say I support him because I don’t want my parents to die just because they’re poor. Part 4) Lastly, I wonder from across the pond, what are your thoughts about the healthcare crisis in my country, and what has your experience been with healthcare in your own country?

——-

Well first of all I’m so sorry for you and for your family. Illness is already its own burden that brings worries about money, never mind having the worry of medical bills on TOP of those too.

I’m going to be honest and tell you I don’t know a whole lot about the US election candidates - maybe once the election is imminent I’ll take more of an interest but the process is sooo long and it’s still so far away. I will say that anyone who is advocating for universal healthcare is worth supporting.

I’ll tell you a bit about my experience with the NHS in Scotland.

Our healthcare is free at the point of care and I can guarantee I would not be alive today if it wasn’t for the NHS. Not because I’ve had life threatening conditions but because I would literally have made sure I wasn’t alive. (Suicide TW) It may not seem like much (especially given what others go through with chronic conditions etc) but I was getting treatment for acne since I was 12 years old. I’ve detailed my treatments in my ‘Skin Troubles with Scabby Legs McGee’ tag so I won’t run through the meds again here. Dentistry in this country is free until you’re 18, I needed multiple teeth pulled, braces etc. Optometry appointments are free, and I had to wear glasses to correct an astigmatism for 4 at least 4 years as a young teen.My family would not have been able afford all of this and my self esteem (which is already affected enough by it) would not have allowed ME to survive it.

As for life threatening, my mum had treatment for breast cancer, a mastectomy and a reconstruction 19 years ago. We had very little income as it was because she couldn’t work, but we didn’t have medical bills hanging over us which would not have been the case without the NHS. This year in January we found out my mum’s cancer had come back and she has been receiving treatment ever since - again, while money is tight and the pressure of future finances are hanging over us, I’m at least working now and we don’t have those medical bills to pay. We would have gone bankrupt when my mum first had cancer, there is no doubt about that.

My aunt had a cardiac arrest in February and was attended to by two ambulances and a medical car (and has been getting treatment ever since). I think I read somewhere it’s like over $1000 bill for an ambulance in the US and that is, quite frankly, horrific. In the past 5 years alone my dad has needed 3 ambulances.I have a diabetic aunt who has severe arthritis. She has had a partial leg amputation and surgery on both of her elbows. She has been unable to work for years, but she doesn’t have medical bills hanging over her.

It’s all very well me saying it’s ‘free’ by the way, it is definitely not free. So anti-millennial folk don’t know what they’re talking about. The NHS is funded through taxes and in Scotland we’re lucky enough to have no prescription charges but that isn’t the case for England. We pay for dental work after 18 (off the top of my head I needed a filling a few months ago, I paid for private treatment in order to get a white filling and it cost me £60, if I’d taken the NHS treatment it would have been a silver filling costing £16). There are allowances for people on benefits/full time education etc

People complain and complain about the NHS and the wait times etc but they don’t blame the government and systems like the Tory party systematically dismantling the NHS by reducing funding and causing staff shortages etc. The option to go private is always there if you can afford it of course and many people choose to go private to reduce their waiting times but my mum started treatment within (at most) 4 weeks of her cancer diagnosis. She saw the GP for a persistent cough and was sent to hospital the same day for an xray, within a week she had the diagnosis and within another week she had started treatment. People complain about having to wait a week to see a GP but I have worked in a doctor’s office and having been on the ‘front lines’ as it were, emergencies are ALWAYS seen to. The scare mongering stories the anti-universal healthcare people push are absolute nonsense

You asked about my views on the healthcare crisis in your country from an outsiders perspective and I can honestly say it terrifies me. Like…terrifies me all the way to my bones. I can’t imagine living somewhere where I could be charged thousands of pounds for something I cannot control. It’s horrific and draconian and I genuinely feel for you and the people of your country.

#Anonymous #A Response #long post

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lilsherlockian1975 · 5 years

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I need to unleash about my family and, unfortunately, I must do it here. Else I explode!

Feel free to ignore me but I could really use some love and support. It’s under the cut...

Backstory: About two years ago, I got into a HUGE fight with my oldest sister regarding my mother and her finances. I will admit, I’d made some mistakes. Let me be clear: I wasn’t spending her money - far from it - I had neglected to pay her property taxes at the house she all but abandoned when she moved in with us 7 years ago. Honestly, I lied to my sisters the handful of times they bothered to ask about it (they were more than happy to just ignore most of what was going with her and let me ‘deal’ with everything). I was overwhelmed and refused to admit that I needed help.

**I hate to fail. Hate it!! Especially in the eyes of my family.**

So, I blew them off, “Yeah, all taken care of” when frankly, I had no idea what was going on with it. I didn’t have access to mom’s checking account was not (am still not!) on it, even though she has asked me to do so several times. It’s too much. I have enough on my plate to take on her money as well.

I take care of her entirely alone. Not just a bit, I literally do everything for her except feed her and light her cigarettes (although on bad days or if it’s windy, I sometimes do). At our old house, she could at least get around, somewhat on her own, but not here. Someone (90% of the time me) has to wheel her from room to room and outside to smoke.

Since moving, she seems to be in the beginning stages of dementia (I have a Speech Therapist coming over this week for an assessment). She has good days and bad. Sometimes, on bad days, she forgets how to walk - and when I say walk, I mean transfer from chair to wheelchair or wheelchair to toilet and so on. Last night, for instance, after her bath, she suddenly forgot how to stand and pull up her diaper at the same time. I was forced to hold her full weight of 200lbs and pull up the diaper at the same time. She put all her weight on my left shoulder, dead weight. I managed to keep her from falling, but because she’s so short (about 5′1″ and I’m 5′11″) I had to drop to my knees and brace her like I was changing a toddler. I thought she’d dislocated my shoulder but in now I think it’s probably just a pulled muscle. We’ll not talk about my knees, which aren’t in good shape from years of abuse, playing sports. My point is: this is fucking hard. I quit my job to do this and it affects every aspect of my life, my marriage, my family. My typical day starts at 7.30am. If I’m lucky, Mom’s still asleep when I take H to school, but she’s always awake when I get home, yelling my name: Liiiiilllliiiiaaaan! In a sing-song voice. I HATE my name. Please never call me Lillian. Ever! I help her out of bed and into her wheelchair - about half the time she’s either soaked the bed (thankfully, my brilliant husband bought her a water-proof hospital mattress and it can be cleaned easily with bleach - but the laundry is another story), peeing through her diaper or crapped herself - no matter what time I get her up. We wheel into the bathroom and I clean her. If it’s bad (a nasty poo): Bathtime! If not, I still have to clean my mother’s bottom and girl-bits (repeat that about 4 to 5 times a day). She wants her meds next (my mother LOVES taking medicine) then wants to smoke, so it’s off to the porch. While she’s out there, I prepare her breakfast (usually an Ensure, some fruit and something sweet - old people love sweet things because those are the last tastebuds to ‘die’, or so I’m told). I’ve also been giving her some tea to replace the craptastic Diet Rite that I now refuse to let her have (she’s still mad at me about that one!). She’s usually good for about an hour or so, then it’s back outside for more cancer sticks. In between her smoking trips, I’m cleaning, doing laundry and P’s homeschooling (which is basically at an end, but he’ll be doing a smaller summer program too). Sometimes she naps, sometimes, when her bipolar is flaring, she calls me over and over, just for attention. I understand, it’s part of her and there’s nothing she can do about it. Then lunch (and clean up, because she always drops food) smoking, bathroom, smoking, bathroom. Dinner - clean up. Smoking, bathroom, smoking, bathroom. She’s suddenly refused to read - the only thing I remember actually doing from my youth - and now obsessively watches CNN. I feel responsible for this; I’ve turned my conservative, fundamental Christian mother into (and I’ll quote my beloved father on this one) a Pinko! She’s a liberal all of a sudden. Whatever. Every other day, she gets a bath. Once a week I wash and set her hair. I have to apply eye treatments, help her with her nebulizer, and administer her meds (if not, she overtakes them). I also try to keep her mind engaged, hoping it will stave off any deterioration that’s happening, talking about current events, reading my (not smutty) stories, asking any questions I can think of to make her brain ‘work’. She goes to bed at 10 on the dot every night and FINALLY, I can be alone with my husband if we manage to get the boys to leave alone, that is.

Why would I do this? And, why am I bitching? I asked for it, right?

I’ve only mentioned this once before, and just recently broached it with my psychiatrist (because he figured it out, the sneaky bastard! “Lillian, did your father pointedly ask you to take care of your mother before he died?” - Internally: Of course he did, you sadist! Out loud: “Yes, he did. And I promised him I would.” - “What did he say? His exact words? I know you remember them.” - I really don’t want to do this... “Someone will have to take care of her, Lillian, she’s never taken care of herself. Never balanced a checkbook, never pumped her own gas. I can’t leave not knowing she’ll be okay. I love her too much...” I’ll never forget it. That man’s devotion is why I’m so fucked up! “And you feel like you can’t let him down?” Fuck me! Now I’m crying!)

I don’t know if he had similar conversations with the other kids (three of them, all much older and none of them with kids at home! Frankly, I don’t care. ALL of them make significantly more money than me and Mr Lil - we are practically destitute compared to all of them!) but I got her and she’s mine. I do this because it’s the right thing to do.

Now, to my current frustration, finally. Gin, my oldest sister, is selling mom’s house for $10,000. It may be worth more, but this is not my problem. Mom’s agreed to it and I don’t want to be involved. Her day to day care is my problem, not her money. I don’t touch it other than to reimburse us for what we spend on her, and nothing more. Mom, on one of her better days, told me she wants to pay me for caring for her, but I’m afraid about the backlash from the family. Mind you, she (alone!) makes more than we do as a family of 4. She also wanted to give us $2000 toward the house. I refused it for the same reason. She doesn’t know this, thinks I took it. Gin has access to her account - she put herself on the account - she did this even though mom wasn’t really comfortable with it. Today, she texts me & our other sister in a group text, telling me to send a $3000 check to pay off the back property taxes (that she was supposed to be taking care of since I failed to... um, she failed as well, what do ya know?!). I text back, ‘can mom pay that much at once’ - she says, ‘yes’ - I still have to buy mom’s meds and a new walker this week and all her normal expenses, so I ask Gin how much mom has in her account. Her response? ‘Enough, Lillian. Just send the check.’.

I ask you, how is that suppose to make me feel? It’s like she doesn’t trust me with the amount. Like I’m gonna go nuts and buy myself somethin’ French! But the idiot doesn’t realise that I have the account holder in my living room. I have mom call the bank and find out. She’s got well over $6000. How is that not enough to know that I’ve not been thieving from our mother?! I’m so tired of being trusted to wipe her ass but not with anything else! I work my ass off for her - never going on vacation, never really taking much (or any) time for myself while the others take two, three, four trips a year. I can’t leave her alone and just go shopping or have a day out with my family. The other night, we wanted to go out to eat and try the new Mexican place in town. Mom didn’t want to go. We couldn't leave her, so... nope. Pizza again. When the four of us went to see End Game, my mother-in-law came to sit with her, not either of my sisters (and certainly not my worthless brother who, admittedly, lives 3 hours away but hasn’t phoned ONE TIME in the last 7 years to check on her... or me!). They couldn’t be arsed. Gin has promised over and over to ‘take her for the weekend, every two weeks’ to ‘give me a break’. It’s happened once, the weekend we moved. Never before, never again. She’s never really thanked me, even though she told our sister that she has. After returning mom after the move she told me that she told her husband, “Lillian deserves sainthood for doing this every day. Mom exhausted me and I only had her for two and a half days.” It was the only (I’m not even exaggerating) time she’s ever even mentioned how hard this is. I don’t want anything from them. I don’t ask for their help because I know they won’t give it (my middle sister actually said, ‘don’t ask me to help with mom, I won’t do it’) but how about not making me feel like a dirtbag? How about, I don’t know, saying, “Hey, Lillian, Mom has plenty of money, you should pay yourself a bit every month. You work hard to make her quality of life really good and deserve it.” Or even a simple, “Thank you. Thank you for taking care of our mother, we appreciate that you do it and we don’t worry about her safety and wellbeing.” No one has EVER said this to me. Not once.

#personal #caring for the elderly #family issues #stress #anxitey #mentions of bipolar

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gettingvetted · 6 years

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why does it have to be a one-upmanship though? I've never heard people say doctors are better than vets, and even if some do, surely smugly saying 'we know so much more' makes you just as bad? Can't we accept that they are both very demanding, difficult jobs in their own ways? There are so many differences I think it's hard to even compare them.

Mk, I told you I wasn’t going to discuss this anymore unless you came off anon, but I think this is important because I know I have a few medblr followers and a lot of not-medical-at-all followers.

This is not one-upsmanship. “Real doctors treat more than one species” is a joke - in response to being treated like we’re not as good as MD’s. You can literally buy T-shirts and bumper stickers with that on them. As I stated when I responded to your original ask, all of us in the veterinary profession have respect for doctors. Another common saying in the field is “I’m in vet med because humans are gross.” But somebody has to treat them, and we’re glad it’s not us. Many of us would prefer that animals come in sans owners. During the rest of this post, keep in mind that I (and the vast majority of vets) respect MD’s because we need them just as much as they need us. But that doesn’t make us any less than them.

You say it’s hard to compare them - you must be on the human medical side. Want to know some similarities?- We go to school for the same amount of time.- The prerequisite courses for getting into school are nearly identical.- We accumulate approximately the same amount of debt from our schooling.- We learn much of the same material. Anatomy, histology, general/systemic pathology, clinical pathology, physiology, neurology, pharmacology, immunology, toxicology, bacteriology, virology, radiology, theriogenology (aka veterinary gynecology), ethics, business, medicine/treatment, surgery, public health, nutrition, epidemiology… except we learn it for every species, not just one. More on that later.- Vets have to learn about humans too, because we have to know how animals can infect humans. For example, we have to know how every single veterinary parasite in our 3-credit, semester-long parasitology class can potentially affect/not affect humans. Med students spend one or two lectures on parasites.

But you’re right, there’s a lot of differences.- Vet schools are 3-4x harder to get into than medical schools.- Vet school is harder, full stop. Not only are we learning the same things as med students, we have to learn it for every animal species plus some human stuff, and we have to be prepared to actually practice after four years of education without an internship or residency to catch us after school is over. Yes, some students will choose to go the internship/residency route, but the majority will not. Another common joke in vet school, which my professors have literally said to my entire class more than once, is “if you wanted it to be easy you should have gone to medical school.”- An MD is unlikely to be injured by their patients on an average day. A vet is.- When I graduate, I will have performed upwards of 50 surgeries on at least 4 species of animals, despite the fact that I have no intention of specializing in surgery. A human medical doctor has to wait until their residency to do even one surgery, and that’s only if they’re specializing in a field that requires surgery on a routine basis.- Upon graduation, for any given patient I may have to be a general practitioner, gastroenterologist, dermatologist, cardiologist, pediatrician, emergency doctor, radiologist, orthopedist, oncologist, behaviorist, endocrinologist, surgeon, dentist, neurologist, internist, pathologist, pharmacologist, pulmonologist, anesthesiologist, OB/GYN, physical therapist, opthalmologist, and more during their lifetime. Medical doctors have to specialize in a single one of these things. Lucky me, I don’t have to choose. Poor me, I have to know every single one of these specialties for every single animal. Hence, knowing more and doing more than MD’s.- Show me a human general practice clinic (or even hospital) where I can come in with a bellyache, vaginal discharge, and diarrhea and have an exam, bloodwork, x-rays, ultrasound, and emergency hysterectomy all in the same department, within 2-3 hours of arrival, and go home the same day if absolutely necessary or at least the next day. Yeah, not gonna happen.- Vets have to pay for equipment/supplies, building expenses/upkeep, and staff salaries in addition to their own salaries, and this is incorporated in the cost of vet care. Human clinics are subsidized so they don’t have to worry about this…- … and still charge upwards of 5-10x as much for the same procedure that a vet does. Here’s a total hip replacement comparison, for example.- Because of the two above points, if a client stiffs a doctor, it’s not a big deal - the government and the practice insurance will cover it. The lights will not go off. If a client stiffs a vet… well that one client might not make the lights go off, but now the vet isn’t going to be able to offer clinic-based payment plans because they simply can’t afford to be stiffed anymore. Some practices won’t even send a bill and instead require payment up front, because collections cost more than the bill is worth (that’s how low veterinary bills tend to be, comparatively), and these clinics will still get slammed on Facebook/Yelp/Google for “only caring about money and forcing me to pay upfront when my puppy was dying.”- Humans are required to have insurance, but pets are not. This leads to a lot of emotionally demanding decisions for both the vet and owner (I can’t afford his care - do I put him down? surrender him to the clinic if they’re able to take him? bring him home and let him die? toss him to a shelter and let him suffer?) and a lot of emotionally demanding owners ( “If you really loved animals you would treat him for free” - well yes Becky, but I have to eat and pay my student loans/mortgage too…)- Despite our similar educational debt load, my average salary will be less than half of an MD’s. And people still think we charge too much and make too much and try to guilt us into performing services or giving items at a discount or for free.- Vets can put patients down. While this is usually a blessing, it does mean that patients we’ve treated since they were babies are now dying because we can’t do anything to save them, whether due to owner finances or inability to cure a terminal illness. That’s hard enough as it is, but then you get clients who are moving, had a baby, don’t want the pet for whatever reason, and demand you put the animal down instead of doing something else to try to rehome it - “convenience euthanasias.” Both types take an emotional toll on vets, and euthanasias happen every day, usually multiple times.- A vet’s work-life balance is notoriously terrible. Non-ER MD’s can turn away people who walk in at 4:55 when the practice closes at 5. Vets often can’t (or don’t). Because our patient care is so much more involved, it’s rare for vets or vet staff to be able to leave on time even from general practice, and that says nothing for emergency care or the many vets who are on call nights, weekends, holidays… At the first practice I worked at, staff members got to choose one (1) holiday PER YEAR to get off, and were expected to work every weekend.- Due to the previous 5 points, suicide and mental illness in the veterinary field is at an all-time high. Vets are twice as likely to commit suicide than an MD. It’s alarming, and the field is working to change it, but not much can be done on a national scale.

In fact, maybe you’re right. Maybe there really is no comparison. If you read all that, I think you’ll understand that vets have earned a little bit of wiggle room to poke some harmless fun at their “real doctor” colleagues.

Oh, and not to mention the biggest difference between MD’s and DVM’s, but...

#ask #anon #vet med #vet school #vet

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marveloverthinker · 6 years

Text

Space Orcs - Gruesome Torture

The atmosphere on the Incata Dramas was tense, primarily because all of the human crew members were also tense. Now, Captain Faran and the others had noticed that the oddest things would make humans tense, and so in general had resolved not to worry about individual instances, but this was all of them, at the same time, and half of the crew looked as if they expected the next Great War to explode in the galley at any moment. It had all started when Federation Code Lambda Chi 4528.9 had been passed by the Federation Council after being introduced by the Human Councilor, and the Lord High Executive had placed it into immediate effect. That had caused some grumbling. But now, with the first scheduled rendezvous coming up, they had started quibbling, even occasionally recommending outright disregard of the first legislation passed on the proposal of their Species’ first Councilor! “I’m just saying, I hear Astalon III has a great market, and it’s not that far out of our way, and if we just nipped over there our profits could get a real boost!” That had been Carlo Marquez, consistently one of the most by the books humans the Captain had ever met, and when he had insisted that it wasn’t worth risking their licenses, he had gone sullen and sulky for a whole shift! By the time of the rendezvous, the non-human crew had become fascinated, and borderline horrified, by the human reactions, and so all had happened to find themselves near a window when the starship Pierre Fauchard dropped out of jumpspace for the meet-up. There was no indication of why it should be so feared, at least, not from the outside. It was of human design, new, financed by the same law that had necessitated that they meet, but clearly designed with human aesthetics, rather than brutality, in play. And yet, when the time came for the humans to go over to it, they delayed, or prevaricated, or flat out tried to hide. Even Jackson Daniels, a hero of the War before it had ended, a warrior who had faced Athalan Behemoths and crushed them in his hands (or so it was rumored) had retreated to his quarters, refusing to go, BEGGING to be let off, before crew members from the Pierre Fauchard had come to retrieve him, offering minor chemical alteration and speaking to him as the Captain had heard others speak to small children. It was too much. He was their captain, and their well being was his responsibility, and so he’d requested permission to come aboard. It had been welcomed, and he’d been met at the airlock by their Captain, though she preferred the term Doctor O’Donnel. “My human crew seems... nervous... at these meetings, Doctor.” She chuckled. “Yes, well, it was necessary.” “Was it? You are healers, and we do have med-paste.” “Med paste is fantastic for living tissues, but considers calcification a sickness, in general. It quickly became clear humans in star service needed their regular checkups, and the equipment needed to be specialized. So, our ships were requisitioned. So far, it has gone well, though you’d think some of our brave people in the stars would be better than their fifth grade cousins.” The captain didn’t know what to make of that. “May I see some of the equipment?” The doctor shrugged. “Certainly, though it may not make much sense to your, due to differences in ingestion.” While he tried to sort out what diets and the like had to do with ANYTHING, the Captain walked into a treatment room, where Daniels (no heavily medicated,) lay on a table as what could only be described as a massive implement with... mining equipments, was lowered into his mouth? A hand went to his own mouth as the Captain dashed out, running from room to room. In each, the same story, his crew members strapped to tables, mouths pried open, various awful looking implements making even more awful sounds of... yes, the miner in him couldn’t miss it, drilling going on INSIDE THEIR MOUTHS. A door opened, and out stepped Annie, his newest Xeno-cryptologist, and he dashed over to her. “Crewman Annie, are you well? What did they do? I had no idea you were to be... who are they? Is it religious? Is it to keep you following orders?” “What? Silly.” Annie patted him on the shoulder. “It’s just a touch up and clean. Doesn’t my smile look great?” She flashed one at him, and the bone extrusions they used for all sorts of purposes did seem to have some extra shine. “Don’t sweat it, Cap’n. Who’d have thought Daniels would be such a baby about it, though?” She then scampered off to watch his procedure giggling as she did. The Doctor smiled at him. “Would that be all? Plenty to do, plenty whiny adult children to do it to.” Faran could only nod, then made a hasty escape, before anyone took it in their heads to try this... dentistry... on him. And all because it made those horrific extrusions... shiny?

#HAW #Humans are Weird #Space Orcs #Had a Root Canal Today #boominspriation

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