Post by wadevvilson on Jul 18, 2017 2:44:35 GMT -5
All characters mentioned in this are mine, first off. Second, yes, this is a human AU with some Warriors OC's of mine [not that anyone here knows who they are]; the main ones mentioned/featured in here are Duncan, Bearclaw [Neal], and Hawktalon [Alex], though. Also Featherstar [Janine], albeit not mentioned by name and only referred to as Neal's niece.
No, this was not posted exclusively for critique. I just posted it here because I felt like it. Curse words have been censored due to my posting it on these forums. Not exactly proud of this one [pacing-wise, it feels a bit too rushed to me, and I hate myself for it. Also in terms of quality, it just generally is "meh" in my opinion. But it's at least subplot], but figured it deserves to exist/have people view it anyways. Who knows, maybe someone’ll like it. You definitely can read some things to get the full context of this, but it would take you a while, and some of said things are marked as mature content and are not visible to those without a d.A. account, plus I seem to have misplaced what I called the files in my personal archives. This took a solid 2 weeks for me to finish writing, wow. Also, unrelated, as much as I don't particularly like the topic of the Hamilton musical as a whole, I will admit that "Wait For It" is on Bearclaw/Neal's official character playlist if anything. And if anyone has headcanon voice suggestions for him, I will gladly consider them, because it's been over a decade and I still can't find an exact match and this upsets me.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
There wasn't much in the fridge. Just some thawed tamales (they weren't even the good kind, why did he still have them?), a half-empty gallon of milk, some bottles of sauces and other condiments which hadn't been touched in years. A bundle of carrots, some spinach. A carton of mango juice, unopened. Banana pudding, in cup form. A lone pack of bratwurst and some of those cheap, waxy-tasting chocolate truffles, the likes of which were probably expired by now. He really should take some time to clean it out, but his job kept him on his feet. Although, if he didn't keep volunteering for extra hours, then things wouldn't be as demanding. So, it was more his own fault that he was too busy to do anything than much else. He took a pudding cup, then closed the fridge's door as quickly as he had opened it. No point in letting things spoil, after all.
He should have retired years ago, he thought. Though he wasn't exactly on the front lines anymore, his niece still found him to be an adequate consultant and often met with him to discuss current events. But he was a stubborn man (well, as much as someone like him could be), and the fact that he was still working was a source of pride. So it was doubtful that he was really going to retire, as much as he claimed to others that he was.
Neal slowly got up from off the floor; might as well go sit on the couch, or his bed. Anything would be more comfortable than sticky tile. It was way too hot in his house right now, and the air conditioning helped little despite it being cranked up to the highest setting available. Even though it was 2:00 in the morning, the blanket of heat that had settled over the city earlier simply refused to dissipate. There wasn't even the smallest hint of a breeze outside, and it was unbearably humid. He quickly rummaged through the silverware drawer for a spoon, and found one with ease. Neal fanned himself with his free hand as he walked to the living room with both pudding and spoon in tow, and plopped down in his favorite chair like a stone. Might as well see what was on T.V. tonight (or, would that be today?). Luckily the remote was within arm's reach, so it didn't take him much effort to grab it, turn the television on, and begin flipping through channels. Opening the pudding, he took a few bites. The banana flavoring they'd used was cloyingly artificial, but it was oddly comforting all the same.
There were nature programs. News reruns and adverts. Golf. Football, some old kids' cartoons. Not much interesting on. The food channel would have been promising had it not been the hour when advertising blocks took up all the program slots. Then again, it would have made him hungry, and he didn't exactly feel like cooking in this heat. So, that wasn't such a good idea after all. After mulling it over a bit longer, he settled for the one of the multitude of nature programs at his disposal; oh look, meerkats! When they were kids, his sibling had loved meerkats. Probably still did, in fact. He wouldn't really know, they'd been on poor terms for decades and hadn't talked a lot beyond the basics. He didn't even interact with the majority of his own nieces and nephews all that often, though that was moreso because they were all grown adults by now, busy with their own lives. He missed talking to them; perhaps he'd call (but certainly not at 2 A.M. on a Saturday). He didn't miss them as much as he missed Alex, though. Indeed, he'd screwed up that particular relationship on his own, and it seemed unlikely that they were going to ever truly forgive him. There wasn't much of a point in trying to call them, to try and talk to them. Even at the siblings' last encounter, Alex had been appropriately frigid. Granted, at least part of that was due to the off-putting front they put up towards anyone and everyone to protect themselves, but still. Neal definitely felt guilty.
It was unusually cruel for him, but he was partially using his sibling's husband (and, well, Duncan was more than kind of his own husband as well, though their relationship was very different compared to that of two people who had been together for much of their lives) in an effort to make some attempt to bridge that familial gap. Hard to come to terms with that, to admit it even to himself. He didn't want to do this, deep down. Some part of him didn't want to do this. Sure, Duncan wasn't the most innocent of people to begin with, and Neal still wasn't entirely sure where he stood on the matter of the slightly older man, but it still felt like a horrible thing to do to someone behind their back. He knew it wasn't the right thing to do in this situation, definitely.
Maybe he'd call Duncan...though, not because of that. It wasn't the appropriate time to bring up a subject such as this, anyway. No doubt the criminal was wide awake at this hour, although it was debatable whether or not he had his phone on him. Then again, they did have a house phone. So, setting the pudding off to the side, he picked up his cellphone. Convenient that he'd left it on the side table. Neal's dark eyes flicked momentarily to the television before settling once again on the keypad. Taking a breath, he began to dial. "Duncan. How's the weather been treating you and my sibling?"
The grating, obnoxiously loud voice coming through the speaker was unmistakable. "What did you expect, we're dying over here. Heat waves aren't great. Princess went to sleep a while back, or at least they attempted to." The sound of him momentarily putting the phone down in order to scratch the back of his head followed those words. "Hey, something wrong? You're not exactly the type to randomly call people in the middle of the night. I'll admit I'm not the greatest guy to talk to about your problems, but you're the one calling me."
"No, there's nothing," he lied, settling back in the chair. "It's just that we haven't truly talked in a while, and I figured that it would only be courteous to call and see how you were doing. I owe it to you."
"...Touching." It was evident by Duncan's tone that he didn't believe him in the least. "Have I ever told you that you're absolute [] at lying? Y'really are, it's pretty pathetic." He chuckled lowly. "I'm no therapist, but I'm also not stupid. So, you wanna talk or not? I ain't gonna judge...that much. And I don't have anything better to do right now. Shoot." Neal could just about see him doing that stupid finger guns gesture through the phone.
This was not the greatest of ideas, certainly. No, it indeed was not. Should he divulge? There was an awkward silence as he pondered it. "I'll admit that I don't know where to begin with this," Neal admitted. It seemed fair to tell him, at the very least. "And, in advance, I'm sorry. I wasn't entirely aware of this at first; it was more of a subconscious thing to start." He swallowed thickly, and there was an uncomfortably long pause. Curse his candor. "Well, it's not a 'may have', certainly. I did. I will say now that part of the reason I agreed to our relationship was for ulterior motives, ones beyond simple loneliness." The other end of the line was dead silent as Neal talked, the only background noise besides the T.V. being Duncan's breathing. And Neal fumbled for once in his life, tripping over his words as he spoke. "I...I wanted to be close to my sibling once again. And I foolishly thought that you would be a bridge, a stepping stone to that. It's unfair to ask that of you, let alone anyone else."
'That's it?' The exact words weren't actually uttered, but they were certainly implied with the ever-increasing silence. But eventually, Duncan spoke again. "Even for a serious confession, it's eloquent. I swear, this family's a bunch of Shakespeares in disguise," he muttered, and punctuated this with a loud snort and what was sure to be a roll of the eyes. He cleared his throat somewhat awkwardly. "Anyways. I would have at least appreciated being in on the plan from the start, but since this realization sounds like a recent development, well...And, trust me. Long since guessed there was an actual reason of some kind. So, I ain't shocked. Somewhat disappointed, sure, but not exactly shocked." The tone of his voice made it somewhat difficult to tell his true feelings on the subject. "I'm not saying that I'll ruin the best damn thing that's ever happened to me, but. First of all, you sure this is a good idea? Doesn't seem all that smart in my opinion."
"To be honest? Not at all. It sounds like an absolutely horrible plan and is no doubt doomed for failure given the general odds, but sometimes you just have to act on an impulse. You of all people should be able to relate." Neal let out a nervous, shaky laugh, closing his eyes. "I just...I am aware that you never had all that great a relationship with any of your own siblings, but I want to do this. Need to do this. They're the only real family I have left, Duncan. All my children are dead. My sister is dead, and our parents have been gone for a long time now." He was nothing but an oft-forgotten uncle, if anything. And it was definitely getting to him, little by little. "Trust me, I feel utterly terrible right now, but some part of me feels as though this needs to be done."
"Well. Glad you realize that, at least." Funny, the (predominantly) Italian-Canadian wasn't usually the clear-headed, rational one. It seems that the tables had turned. "And I get that. Just...tread carefully. I know I'm quite literally the last person who'd advise somebody to do something like this, but just be careful. You're already playing on thin ice here. But I'm guessing you already know this."
He sighed heavily. "I'm aware, certainly.'' Neal said faintly, his voice barely audible. He did not respond further, just hung up, then set the phone down on the chair arm.
No, this was not posted exclusively for critique. I just posted it here because I felt like it. Curse words have been censored due to my posting it on these forums. Not exactly proud of this one [pacing-wise, it feels a bit too rushed to me, and I hate myself for it. Also in terms of quality, it just generally is "meh" in my opinion. But it's at least subplot], but figured it deserves to exist/have people view it anyways. Who knows, maybe someone’ll like it. You definitely can read some things to get the full context of this, but it would take you a while, and some of said things are marked as mature content and are not visible to those without a d.A. account, plus I seem to have misplaced what I called the files in my personal archives. This took a solid 2 weeks for me to finish writing, wow. Also, unrelated, as much as I don't particularly like the topic of the Hamilton musical as a whole, I will admit that "Wait For It" is on Bearclaw/Neal's official character playlist if anything. And if anyone has headcanon voice suggestions for him, I will gladly consider them, because it's been over a decade and I still can't find an exact match and this upsets me.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
There wasn't much in the fridge. Just some thawed tamales (they weren't even the good kind, why did he still have them?), a half-empty gallon of milk, some bottles of sauces and other condiments which hadn't been touched in years. A bundle of carrots, some spinach. A carton of mango juice, unopened. Banana pudding, in cup form. A lone pack of bratwurst and some of those cheap, waxy-tasting chocolate truffles, the likes of which were probably expired by now. He really should take some time to clean it out, but his job kept him on his feet. Although, if he didn't keep volunteering for extra hours, then things wouldn't be as demanding. So, it was more his own fault that he was too busy to do anything than much else. He took a pudding cup, then closed the fridge's door as quickly as he had opened it. No point in letting things spoil, after all.
He should have retired years ago, he thought. Though he wasn't exactly on the front lines anymore, his niece still found him to be an adequate consultant and often met with him to discuss current events. But he was a stubborn man (well, as much as someone like him could be), and the fact that he was still working was a source of pride. So it was doubtful that he was really going to retire, as much as he claimed to others that he was.
Neal slowly got up from off the floor; might as well go sit on the couch, or his bed. Anything would be more comfortable than sticky tile. It was way too hot in his house right now, and the air conditioning helped little despite it being cranked up to the highest setting available. Even though it was 2:00 in the morning, the blanket of heat that had settled over the city earlier simply refused to dissipate. There wasn't even the smallest hint of a breeze outside, and it was unbearably humid. He quickly rummaged through the silverware drawer for a spoon, and found one with ease. Neal fanned himself with his free hand as he walked to the living room with both pudding and spoon in tow, and plopped down in his favorite chair like a stone. Might as well see what was on T.V. tonight (or, would that be today?). Luckily the remote was within arm's reach, so it didn't take him much effort to grab it, turn the television on, and begin flipping through channels. Opening the pudding, he took a few bites. The banana flavoring they'd used was cloyingly artificial, but it was oddly comforting all the same.
There were nature programs. News reruns and adverts. Golf. Football, some old kids' cartoons. Not much interesting on. The food channel would have been promising had it not been the hour when advertising blocks took up all the program slots. Then again, it would have made him hungry, and he didn't exactly feel like cooking in this heat. So, that wasn't such a good idea after all. After mulling it over a bit longer, he settled for the one of the multitude of nature programs at his disposal; oh look, meerkats! When they were kids, his sibling had loved meerkats. Probably still did, in fact. He wouldn't really know, they'd been on poor terms for decades and hadn't talked a lot beyond the basics. He didn't even interact with the majority of his own nieces and nephews all that often, though that was moreso because they were all grown adults by now, busy with their own lives. He missed talking to them; perhaps he'd call (but certainly not at 2 A.M. on a Saturday). He didn't miss them as much as he missed Alex, though. Indeed, he'd screwed up that particular relationship on his own, and it seemed unlikely that they were going to ever truly forgive him. There wasn't much of a point in trying to call them, to try and talk to them. Even at the siblings' last encounter, Alex had been appropriately frigid. Granted, at least part of that was due to the off-putting front they put up towards anyone and everyone to protect themselves, but still. Neal definitely felt guilty.
It was unusually cruel for him, but he was partially using his sibling's husband (and, well, Duncan was more than kind of his own husband as well, though their relationship was very different compared to that of two people who had been together for much of their lives) in an effort to make some attempt to bridge that familial gap. Hard to come to terms with that, to admit it even to himself. He didn't want to do this, deep down. Some part of him didn't want to do this. Sure, Duncan wasn't the most innocent of people to begin with, and Neal still wasn't entirely sure where he stood on the matter of the slightly older man, but it still felt like a horrible thing to do to someone behind their back. He knew it wasn't the right thing to do in this situation, definitely.
Maybe he'd call Duncan...though, not because of that. It wasn't the appropriate time to bring up a subject such as this, anyway. No doubt the criminal was wide awake at this hour, although it was debatable whether or not he had his phone on him. Then again, they did have a house phone. So, setting the pudding off to the side, he picked up his cellphone. Convenient that he'd left it on the side table. Neal's dark eyes flicked momentarily to the television before settling once again on the keypad. Taking a breath, he began to dial. "Duncan. How's the weather been treating you and my sibling?"
The grating, obnoxiously loud voice coming through the speaker was unmistakable. "What did you expect, we're dying over here. Heat waves aren't great. Princess went to sleep a while back, or at least they attempted to." The sound of him momentarily putting the phone down in order to scratch the back of his head followed those words. "Hey, something wrong? You're not exactly the type to randomly call people in the middle of the night. I'll admit I'm not the greatest guy to talk to about your problems, but you're the one calling me."
"No, there's nothing," he lied, settling back in the chair. "It's just that we haven't truly talked in a while, and I figured that it would only be courteous to call and see how you were doing. I owe it to you."
"...Touching." It was evident by Duncan's tone that he didn't believe him in the least. "Have I ever told you that you're absolute [] at lying? Y'really are, it's pretty pathetic." He chuckled lowly. "I'm no therapist, but I'm also not stupid. So, you wanna talk or not? I ain't gonna judge...that much. And I don't have anything better to do right now. Shoot." Neal could just about see him doing that stupid finger guns gesture through the phone.
This was not the greatest of ideas, certainly. No, it indeed was not. Should he divulge? There was an awkward silence as he pondered it. "I'll admit that I don't know where to begin with this," Neal admitted. It seemed fair to tell him, at the very least. "And, in advance, I'm sorry. I wasn't entirely aware of this at first; it was more of a subconscious thing to start." He swallowed thickly, and there was an uncomfortably long pause. Curse his candor. "Well, it's not a 'may have', certainly. I did. I will say now that part of the reason I agreed to our relationship was for ulterior motives, ones beyond simple loneliness." The other end of the line was dead silent as Neal talked, the only background noise besides the T.V. being Duncan's breathing. And Neal fumbled for once in his life, tripping over his words as he spoke. "I...I wanted to be close to my sibling once again. And I foolishly thought that you would be a bridge, a stepping stone to that. It's unfair to ask that of you, let alone anyone else."
'That's it?' The exact words weren't actually uttered, but they were certainly implied with the ever-increasing silence. But eventually, Duncan spoke again. "Even for a serious confession, it's eloquent. I swear, this family's a bunch of Shakespeares in disguise," he muttered, and punctuated this with a loud snort and what was sure to be a roll of the eyes. He cleared his throat somewhat awkwardly. "Anyways. I would have at least appreciated being in on the plan from the start, but since this realization sounds like a recent development, well...And, trust me. Long since guessed there was an actual reason of some kind. So, I ain't shocked. Somewhat disappointed, sure, but not exactly shocked." The tone of his voice made it somewhat difficult to tell his true feelings on the subject. "I'm not saying that I'll ruin the best damn thing that's ever happened to me, but. First of all, you sure this is a good idea? Doesn't seem all that smart in my opinion."
"To be honest? Not at all. It sounds like an absolutely horrible plan and is no doubt doomed for failure given the general odds, but sometimes you just have to act on an impulse. You of all people should be able to relate." Neal let out a nervous, shaky laugh, closing his eyes. "I just...I am aware that you never had all that great a relationship with any of your own siblings, but I want to do this. Need to do this. They're the only real family I have left, Duncan. All my children are dead. My sister is dead, and our parents have been gone for a long time now." He was nothing but an oft-forgotten uncle, if anything. And it was definitely getting to him, little by little. "Trust me, I feel utterly terrible right now, but some part of me feels as though this needs to be done."
"Well. Glad you realize that, at least." Funny, the (predominantly) Italian-Canadian wasn't usually the clear-headed, rational one. It seems that the tables had turned. "And I get that. Just...tread carefully. I know I'm quite literally the last person who'd advise somebody to do something like this, but just be careful. You're already playing on thin ice here. But I'm guessing you already know this."
He sighed heavily. "I'm aware, certainly.'' Neal said faintly, his voice barely audible. He did not respond further, just hung up, then set the phone down on the chair arm.
