ca$h hotdog🌠(![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
oorah) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
quietplacelogs2018-02-28 09:54 am
oorah) wrote in quietplacelogs2018-02-28 09:54 am
III. (open-ish) i said i've been through a lot of noise
featuring: hotdog & his (close) cr
what's happening? frank is suffering from vaccine side-effects and has been ordered to go to the clinic to take care of it; meanttime max has arrived! and just undergone debarking surgery.
day: march 1 (night) & march 2 all day
content warnings: sick man, sick dog, the whine (not)heard round the world.
notes: if it's feasible that frank or micro would have told your character where he is, then feel free to show up. or if you are sick maybe you are unlucky enough to encounter this jerkbutt. hit me up if you want something specific!
march 1
[ after frank gifted jessica a lovely murder basket, she suspects he isn't feeling himself (joke's on her tbh.) since only just injecting him with the experimental drug that would (with any luck at all) make him immune to kilgrave's powers, she assumes frank's weird behavior is a side effect and sends him to the clinic to get checked out. after akira puts him on bedrest, he's open to visitors, and of course the first person he wants to see isn't a person at all. he texts hawkeye and micro furiously: ] bring me my fucking dog, you assholes.
[ okay, so he might be a little testy. once a sleepy max just out of surgery is brought to the clinic, too, the dog will lay at the foot of his bed, alternating between lazily guarding and even lazier dozing. frank hates being stationary. he hates feeling useless. the aches and pains are taking a toll on him, but not as much as the rising tide of frustration and irritability. even if he's usually not a chill guy by a landslide, today he's especially twitchy. he'll likely be up long into the night fantasizing different and creative ways to make kilgrave hurt. oh, hi kids. didn't see you there. ]
march 2
[ frank hasn't slept much. between the fever and refusing to take anything stronger than aspirin, he's sweating and out of it, an angry red rash climbing steadily up the back of his neck to peek out of his black jumpsuit collar. the blankets are on his feet, but he keeps kicking them off. he hates being sick, and he knows he's a terrible patient besides. maria always used to scold him for acting like a child; or worse than their actual children since they took being sick like a champ, just happy for the day away from school. he could endure torture and pain aplenty, max the dog had witnessed both first-hand. he lived in bunkers buried in the sand and traveled to countries that were just holes in the ground, but a little fever and nausea and he's ready to die. every time a cold shiver wracks his spine, he wishes for it even; picturing the bullet in his skull. the doctors telling him a shift in millimeter increment would have killed him. should have, even the way it is.
max is on the floor now, his big block head peeking out from underneath the cot. he watches the door, alerting frank to any new arrival with a tiny growl before shutting his eyes again. the noise little more than a rattly rumble from the dog's barrel chest. the message is clear: you take this one, dad. i'll get the next. ]
what's happening? frank is suffering from vaccine side-effects and has been ordered to go to the clinic to take care of it; meanttime max has arrived! and just undergone debarking surgery.
day: march 1 (night) & march 2 all day
content warnings: sick man, sick dog, the whine (not)heard round the world.
notes: if it's feasible that frank or micro would have told your character where he is, then feel free to show up. or if you are sick maybe you are unlucky enough to encounter this jerkbutt. hit me up if you want something specific!
march 1
[ after frank gifted jessica a lovely murder basket, she suspects he isn't feeling himself (joke's on her tbh.) since only just injecting him with the experimental drug that would (with any luck at all) make him immune to kilgrave's powers, she assumes frank's weird behavior is a side effect and sends him to the clinic to get checked out. after akira puts him on bedrest, he's open to visitors, and of course the first person he wants to see isn't a person at all. he texts hawkeye and micro furiously: ] bring me my fucking dog, you assholes.
[ okay, so he might be a little testy. once a sleepy max just out of surgery is brought to the clinic, too, the dog will lay at the foot of his bed, alternating between lazily guarding and even lazier dozing. frank hates being stationary. he hates feeling useless. the aches and pains are taking a toll on him, but not as much as the rising tide of frustration and irritability. even if he's usually not a chill guy by a landslide, today he's especially twitchy. he'll likely be up long into the night fantasizing different and creative ways to make kilgrave hurt. oh, hi kids. didn't see you there. ]
march 2
[ frank hasn't slept much. between the fever and refusing to take anything stronger than aspirin, he's sweating and out of it, an angry red rash climbing steadily up the back of his neck to peek out of his black jumpsuit collar. the blankets are on his feet, but he keeps kicking them off. he hates being sick, and he knows he's a terrible patient besides. maria always used to scold him for acting like a child; or worse than their actual children since they took being sick like a champ, just happy for the day away from school. he could endure torture and pain aplenty, max the dog had witnessed both first-hand. he lived in bunkers buried in the sand and traveled to countries that were just holes in the ground, but a little fever and nausea and he's ready to die. every time a cold shiver wracks his spine, he wishes for it even; picturing the bullet in his skull. the doctors telling him a shift in millimeter increment would have killed him. should have, even the way it is.
max is on the floor now, his big block head peeking out from underneath the cot. he watches the door, alerting frank to any new arrival with a tiny growl before shutting his eyes again. the noise little more than a rattly rumble from the dog's barrel chest. the message is clear: you take this one, dad. i'll get the next. ]
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he thinks of mike and will visiting him. of hawkeye and david saving his dog. he thinks of jessica... but it always hurts to think of her. so he doesn't for long, instead meeting faith's eyes again more steadily. in them is a depth of gratitude he can't express with stupid typed words. instead he leans forward as much as his protesting garbagefire of a body will allow right now and puts a heavy hand on her ankle where her legs are crossed. the message is clear: if i have a family here, you're a part of it. ]
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Faith never felt she had any place to really call her own. She forces her eyes shut because- fuck, she doesn't want to cry right now. She hates showing weakness. Too many walls sent up around her to protect herself. It's instinct to shut herself off. But she wants family too. Wants to belong somewhere. Anyfuckinwhere.]
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It's okay. This place is safe. [ and he's safe. he's certainly not going to judge faith for crying when he does all the freaking time. ]
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Faith's not sure she trusts that this place is safe. That anywhere is, really. But she needs this. She needs family. It's been too long acting like she didn't. Eventually her damn breaks and the tears come unbidden.]
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Faith sinks into it then, arms freeing themselves and moving to wrap around Frank in turn. She's sure to be gentle despite her overemotion. She whispers between sobs.] Sorry, I- [She doesn't even really know what she's sorry for. So many things. Things here. Things back home. For crying too she's sorry. It's all bubbling up now.]
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No. No-- Faith, you don't get to say sorry. You don't get to feel sorry, not for what that sick shit did to you. [ frank swallows, his temple rubbing against hers briefly. his body language is clear: he won't pull away until she wants him to. ] Or anything else, alright? You don't ever have anything to be sorry for. Not by me. [ it's all soft, barely above a gravelly whisper. but just as heartfelt. ]
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I've done things I definitely gotta be sorry for. Maybe I d-didn't do them to you. Or here. But I did them. [Part of her can't help thinking she deserves to suffer.]
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Guess who else is a giant fuck-up? [ one hand pulls away from her so he can rub at his eyes, and then it falls heavily and ineffectually to the bed. ] Frank Castle.
[ there, now he's formally introduced himself. two months too late, maybe, but an effort was made. he tips his head, still looking tired and sick but there's a light behind watery eyes that wasn't there before. a recognition. ]
Be sorry if you have to. I don't have the power to forgive you either way. [ the hand on her back roves up to cup the back of her head, like what he's about to say is really important. ] Everything I ever loved was taken away from me in one afternoon. So yeah, maybe a place like this isn't so bad for a guy like me. [ he sniffs, the hint of a smile on his face though it's mirthless. ] Or at least that's what I thought until that vile piece of trash came out to play. That's sick, isn't it? I thought I finally had it made. In a place where everyone is quiet and monsters have run of it. [ he shakes his head, no, there's not a bone in his body that could ever blame her for anything. not the way she means. ]
If you wanna talk, I'm right here. But... I gotta warn you, I'm much better at the not talking bit. A little too good. [ damn near obliterated his marriage even before that day. ]
sorry. I've written you a novel....
And no, it didn't escape her that he admitted to murdering a whole slew of people. And she's not condoning murder, not by a long shot, but at least those people deserved it, at least on some level? Like she'd deserved it when Buffy had stabbed her and put her in a coma. Faith will have to mull that over later by herself. She listens to his words, holding tight on them. He's lost everything, which makes her wonder if it were more than his wife. She finds herself afraid to even ask. Faith presses her lips together in a thin line, quickly taking her hands back to clear her eyes, they felt like they were burning. But she stays close to him, finding comfort in his embrace. She tries to put up walls, avoid acknowledging that she needs people. Need acceptance.]
This place is terrible, I'm not gonna lie. But... it was my chance to be someone else, I think. So I liked it too. So I avoided telling people anything about me. Lies of omission, that's the phrase.
[She needs to know that he'll still want her around. If he knows everything. It's something that's terrified her from the moment of coming here. She's made friends. Family. But none of them knew her. She'd told Poe in an attempt to push him away, minor details of her betrayal but not the entire picture. He hadn't left, so perhaps it will be the same with Frank. But she's still terrified. ]
You don't have to talk. I just... I gotta let you know about me. I can't just keep pretending. Someone will show up eventually, I'm sure. Someone who knew me from before, maybe start talking shit about me. I don't know. Maybe they won't, but- [Faith shrugs weakly. She'd left on better terms with Buffy, but the way they butted heads she could see the blonde Slayer trying to hold it over her head here if she ever showed up.
Maybe Frank's not a good talker but she needs him to know, never mind how much he responds with words. It's how he responds in general. She just wants to be sure he won't change his mind about her. Everything she says spills out like word vomit, a tumult of information she's just dumping at Frank's feet to see what he'll do with it. She's not meeting his eyes, just talking and staring over at Max to avoid seeing how he's taking it all.]
Don't know what you've picked up from other people about where I'm from, or whatever. But my entire world revolves around monsters. Not like... him, but like the Sound Eaters. But usually I can fight them. In Reims, I feel pretty fucking useless. Before here, I was in a battle on a Hellmouth- a literal mouth of hell in California. I'm a something called a vampire Slayer. Called when I was 18, got all these kick ass super powers. No one could ever hurt me again or so I thought, no- I could hurt them instead.
But I betrayed that not long after I got Called. I killed someone on accident. Staked this guy who was sneaking up on me. But then I just... spiraled. Betrayed the other Slayer, Buffy, who only ever tried to help me. But god, I fucking hated her. Everyone always compared me to her. I got these powers, thought that meant I could finally be special, I guess. But I could never be quite as good as Buffy, who had sunshine shining out of her ass. And a family, friends, a nice house, pretty much everything I ever wanted. She tried to help me, but I pushed her away. I tried to kill her. Joined the enemy who was trying to murder the entire town, all because he was nice to me. Gave me a nice apartment, treated me like I was special. Fuck, it was so stupid. I killed another man for him, this time on purpose. Then I tried to kill Buffy's friends. Nearly killed her boyfriend too. Then she stabbed me and I fell off a building and landed myself in a coma. [She takes in a shaky breath, still not looking at him. Only at Max who had his head resting between his paws, tail thumping softly on the floor as she looks at him. She's gotta lay it all out so she keeps going.]
Then the months roll by... I wake up. I try to kill her again. Steal her body. This whole magic thing. She gets it back. So I skip town, find her now ex-boyfriend again, Angel. He's actually the only one who still tries to help me. Even though I'm trying to kill him again. I- [Faith lets out a small sob, hands covering her face but she forces herself to continue.] I tried to get him to kill me. Push him to do it. I knew that I was a piece of shit. I just wanted it to be over. But... he wouldn't do it. Convinced me to turn myself in for the murders, the assaults, the torture. [Yeah, she tortured a guy.]
So I did. Went to prison. 25 to life. Figured that's where I'd stay. But few years later... Angel was in trouble. The guy I tortured, he came to me to help save him. That's how I knew it was serious. So I formed my own 'early release', jumped through the glass in the visiting room, kicked the shit out of some guards, and jumped right out a window. [Suffice to say she could have left that prison any time she pleased. She'd been the only thing keeping her there.]
it's a beautiful one
as she begins, though it has nothing relative to his life, it's familiar. like a story. this girl had a destiny to save the world; her world. it's simple in a way he likes -- in a way his world could never be. the only people with abilities were freaks like kilgrave and jessica who had been experimented on until they were something beyond human. or maybe an amplification of it. he's not really sure. there are plenty of people from his world that could come here to talk shit about him too, anyway, he knows he's been lucky so far with the additions he's gotten. there's just something poetic about all of this, she says she was called. but she didn't answer it, she shunned it. and for a moment he's not sure he can hear anymore.
then faith gets to buffy, and even his sluggish sick-brain is drawing parallels. his brother and friend: billy, a man with whom he shared all of his bounty. but jealousy had reigned supreme, bubbling just under the surface. of course, frank had been blissfully unaware of that at the time. and so many other deeper, darker things. Faith Lehane is no Billy Russo, and just the pure remorse dripping from her tone tells him everything he needs to know. This wasn't some calculated bid for evil like the man in question. This was a girl who wasn't ready for what the universe gave her. In a lot of ways, frank can relate to that. he'd always had a violent streak, even as a kid. angry for no discernible reason and without an outlet he could've ended up much the same as her.
frank lets her talk for as long as she needs to, and when it's done he knows he's been told the whole truth. he doesn't doubt any corner of her story as being genuine and hers, and he hopes she feels even the tiniest bit lighter for having told it. recognition dawns in his eyes, and he nods, placing clammy hands on the knees of his jumpsuit. there's nothing he can really say to help her, or to prove that he thinks she's still worthy of love. he thinks the same about himself all the time anyway, and still thinks she might reject him if he were to lay his heart so baldly out the way she's just done. food for thought. ]
I broke out of jail too. [ and it was just as dramatic :') ]
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When he finally speaks. She lets out a strangled noise that nearly sounds like a cry of pain but it is in fact laughter, the surprise of his response hitting her and relief filling her insides. It builds into a more clear sound, quiet as she can manage until eventually she has to put her hands over her mouth to quiet it, so it's a sputtering and muffled cackle. She sounds hysterical.
She knows this means he's still wanting to have her around. He is right, it's not his place to forgive her. That's Buffy or Angel or any of the others she's wronged. But that he knows it and still wants her to be there. It means more than she can really say.]
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I was always angry like that too. Violent. Sounds like you already learned this the hard way, but if you can find the right place to channel it... [ he can't even finish his sentence. time to abruptly change the subject!!!! ] When I get out of here, I'm gonna put together a prison for that dirtbag. You in?
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The sudden change in topic startles her and she blinks.] Sure, of course I'm in. Not that I know much about construction. Let alone silent construction.
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Me and Jess found this old shopping mall. It'll take a while to put it together, so hopefully Kilgrave 2.0 isn't waiting for us on Arrival Day.
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You gonna be alright? This thing you took seems like it's really doing a number on you.
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Yeah, I'm okay. [ somehow, he manages to make it sound convincing even as he slowly drops back down on his pillow. the rain from outside filters in and makes it easy to edge towards sleep quickly again, hoping it won't elude him this time. his eyes flash up to catch hers before skittering away again. ] Stay? For a little bit. [ the please is there in his gaze even if he doesn't say it -- just until he falls asleep then she can go. ]
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