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tamingthemuseTitle: Oops
Fandom; Pairings: Original; N/A
Prompt: #253 - Any joke in a storm.
Warnings: None.
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1,630
Summary: No good deed goes unpunished.
Notes: I have zero idea what this is. It's sort of related to something else that's been in my head, but beyond that, I can't tell you anything. Also, vampires and the fae are like chocolate and peanut butter for me. Maybe I'll play around with this some more at a later point.
Hospitals are horrible places. There’s the smell of antiseptic upon every surface, the seemingly endless waiting, the same bland décor in every room, but each of these only serve to make a trip to the emergency room unsettling at best. What truly makes hospitals such terrible places is the knowledge that death is forever looming nearby waiting to take the expectant and unsuspecting alike. From the youngest toddler to the senior citizen who has more years behind him than he does ahead, they all know there’s a chance that once they enter they might not return. Death is the only true equal-opportunity non-discriminating employer in existence.
It always seemed silly to me that mortals fear the inevitable so much, and many of them will put themselves through horrific agony if it means drawing just one more breath. Then again being a vampire means I rarely have to worry about shuffling off my mortal coil, so perhaps I’m a little biased. However, this doesn’t mean I enjoy marinating in the human fear permeating the walls of every hospital in existence. Sure, I’ll admit to a certain thrill in tasting the adrenaline flowing through my thrall’s veins, but that’s fear I create in her, fear that’s in my control. The shared fear of human mortality is not something that’s controllable, and it grows exponentially with each new patient passing through the doors. In short, hospitals are creepy places for supernatural creatures too.
And yet there I was in the dead of night—please pardon the pun—seated in one of those uncomfortable plastic chairs reading a magazine published at least one president ago. In one corner a television was on with its volume low enough to be considered effectively muted, though to my preternatural hearing it was a dull roar.
It slices, chops, dices, and even juices! You’ll wonder how you ever lived without it!
I wondered why I was there. Curiosity was, I suppose, the simplest explanation. The woman I’d brought in had vanquished a demon in her neighbor’s home, all by her lonesome. What’s more, she’d vanquished the demon and managed to stay reasonably intact. Cursory examination told me she was an ordinary mortal woman. At best she had some very latent psychic abilities, but nothing that would have been of any use to her in a one-on-one match against a devouring demon. Then again, she did apparently have rudimentary knowledge of demons if the salt scattered about the house was any indication, and while I couldn’t be absolutely certain until I revisited the scene of the attack for further investigation, I thought I’d caught a whiff of non-demonic magic lingering in the air. Seeing as the neighbor was dead, it could only have come from the woman currently being treated for a concussion and a fractured rib.
A few centuries ago, a human with the ability to fight demons and use magic wasn’t all that unusual, but these days such humans were nigh extinct. The handful with a talent for battling the supernatural were registered or at least recognized by The Company, otherwise known as my employer. However, when I’d called to make my preliminary report, there was no record for the woman, not even a post-it note on a caseworker’s desk. There may be six billion people on earth, but the supernatural world is much, much smaller and like calls to like. Someone like her ought to have been a shining beacon attracting all sorts of creatures. How did someone in her late twenties manage to slip under the radar?
Years ago she battled the forces of darkness to escape her own personal hell. This summer she returns…for revenge!
I glanced up at the television and chuckled. Slasher flicks were a guilty pleasure of mine, mostly because they got so many things wrong. I made a note of the release date and filed it away for later, and forced my brain to focus on the problem at hand. Aside from the mysterious woman, there was also the question of who summoned the demon. Devouring demons were low-ranking slave demons and they never ventured out of their realm unless someone called them. It’s easy enough to guess from their moniker what their primary function is, though something told me the little old lady it killed had not been the target. Oh, I thought it was told to go after my mystery woman’s neighbor, but only so it would draw my mystery woman out of hiding. It was a solid theory, I felt. All I needed now was proof.
My friend Harry is a sailor, see, and he’s got this habit of mixing up his idioms. He’s always saying stuff like, “Any joke in a storm.”
The audience on the television laughed uproariously, far more than they should have for such a pathetic joke. They continued to laugh as the camera panned around to capture their reaction. A couple of women were bent over in their seats holding their sides and one man was literally rolling in the aisle laughing. It was kind of creepy.
“It wasn’t that funny,” I told the screen. I should have known better, especially after an encounter with a demon. In my world, sometimes the electronics talk back.
“You try coming up with material on short notice,” a nasally voice retorted. The image on the screen became distorted, turning to snow, and then a small narrow face came into focus. At first glance it appeared human, but then the eyes were drawn to the long pointed ears, the too-sharp chin and nose, and finally the two antennae poking out through a thick mass of curly blonde hair. Though it didn’t show on camera, I knew tucked behind his back beneath a hard carapace were two beetle-like wings.
I rolled up the magazine still in my hand and held it up like a make-shift fly swatter. “Oh look, a pest for me to squash.”
The bugman sneered, his lips curling up to reveal a row of jagged teeth. “You shouldn’t throw around threats after what you did, Jacob.”
“It was only a joke, I swear. I didn’t think the exterminator would actually show up at your house.”
“It was my broods’ hatch day, you bastard!” He made as if he were going to come at me through the screen, though the gesture wasn’t terribly threatening considering we both knew televisions couldn’t serve as portals. It also didn’t help that I knew in real life he was barely four inches tall.
Recovering, he pushed a hand through his hair, his antennae springing back up when he was done. “Anyway, I’m not talking about that horrible incident. You screwed up tonight, Jacob.”
“Did I?” I unfurled the magazine and did everything I could to appear as disinterested as I felt. If it bothered him, he didn’t let on.
“Oh, you did, you did. She’s not happy with you at all.” “She” was his consort and his queen, Alaina, a bug-like fae who had the ability to become human-sized.
“When has she ever been happy with me? She’s still mad I wouldn’t fuck her on Beltane.”
“You take that back, blood-sucker! My queen would never soil our bed with you!”
“Of course not, I wouldn’t fit in your bed.” The soft plink of a bug flying headlong into the glass gave me a good chuckle. When I looked up to see bugman rubbing his head, my chuckle became a guffaw.
“You laugh now, but she’s filed a grievance with your bitch queen.”
“Janet’s not my queen; she’s my supervisor and my superior.” I narrowed my eyes at him, “And don’t call her a bitch either.” I know he didn’t intend it as an insult. Janet is a werewolf and an alpha in her pack, so in bugman’s world “bitch queen” was considered proper, possibly even respectful. Still, the term grated me and had Janet been there, she would have reached through the screen with a can of Raid. She’s a modern woman.
Bugman sniffed indignantly. “Whatever, you’re still in trouble. The girl you brought to the sick place isn’t in your, what’s the word? Jurisdiction. You’re not even supposed to know about her, blood-sucker.”
Crap, what have I stepped in now? Ignoring the fact that I might have unintentionally offended an entire fae court, I said in my most confident I-know-what-I’m-doing voice, “My jurisdiction is the entire planet, and that woman was nearly killed tonight by a devouring demon.”
“D-devouring demon?” Bugman’s eyes widened and his jaw went slack.
Well, well, it seemed I wasn’t the only one without all the details. “Yes, and it killed a mortal woman before your charge showed up and vanquished it. Tell your queen she has my sincerest apologies, but with my limited knowledge I thought it best to bring her here.”
Bugman’s mouth snapped shut. “This…changes things.”
“I thought it might,” I lied. Truth was I was relieved to have an excuse for accidentally interfering in fae politics. You ought to thank whoever sent the demon, I told myself. They just saved your hide.
“In light of this turn of events I find I must extend my gratitude and that of my queen’s.” He bowed stiffly and through gritted teeth said, “You have done us a great service.”
I nodded respectfully and said nothing. As much as I wanted to enjoy bugman’s obvious discomfort at having to thank me, I knew I was treading on thin ice. “Should I send your queen a copy of my report?”
“Don’t bother. We’ll be in touch with you soon.” With that, the screen went blank. A few seconds later it crackled to life with the infomercial I’d heard earlier. I stared at it dumbly, wondering what I’d stumbled into.
Whatever it was, it wasn’t good.
Fandom; Pairings: Original; N/A
Prompt: #253 - Any joke in a storm.
Warnings: None.
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1,630
Summary: No good deed goes unpunished.
Notes: I have zero idea what this is. It's sort of related to something else that's been in my head, but beyond that, I can't tell you anything. Also, vampires and the fae are like chocolate and peanut butter for me. Maybe I'll play around with this some more at a later point.
Hospitals are horrible places. There’s the smell of antiseptic upon every surface, the seemingly endless waiting, the same bland décor in every room, but each of these only serve to make a trip to the emergency room unsettling at best. What truly makes hospitals such terrible places is the knowledge that death is forever looming nearby waiting to take the expectant and unsuspecting alike. From the youngest toddler to the senior citizen who has more years behind him than he does ahead, they all know there’s a chance that once they enter they might not return. Death is the only true equal-opportunity non-discriminating employer in existence.
It always seemed silly to me that mortals fear the inevitable so much, and many of them will put themselves through horrific agony if it means drawing just one more breath. Then again being a vampire means I rarely have to worry about shuffling off my mortal coil, so perhaps I’m a little biased. However, this doesn’t mean I enjoy marinating in the human fear permeating the walls of every hospital in existence. Sure, I’ll admit to a certain thrill in tasting the adrenaline flowing through my thrall’s veins, but that’s fear I create in her, fear that’s in my control. The shared fear of human mortality is not something that’s controllable, and it grows exponentially with each new patient passing through the doors. In short, hospitals are creepy places for supernatural creatures too.
And yet there I was in the dead of night—please pardon the pun—seated in one of those uncomfortable plastic chairs reading a magazine published at least one president ago. In one corner a television was on with its volume low enough to be considered effectively muted, though to my preternatural hearing it was a dull roar.
It slices, chops, dices, and even juices! You’ll wonder how you ever lived without it!
I wondered why I was there. Curiosity was, I suppose, the simplest explanation. The woman I’d brought in had vanquished a demon in her neighbor’s home, all by her lonesome. What’s more, she’d vanquished the demon and managed to stay reasonably intact. Cursory examination told me she was an ordinary mortal woman. At best she had some very latent psychic abilities, but nothing that would have been of any use to her in a one-on-one match against a devouring demon. Then again, she did apparently have rudimentary knowledge of demons if the salt scattered about the house was any indication, and while I couldn’t be absolutely certain until I revisited the scene of the attack for further investigation, I thought I’d caught a whiff of non-demonic magic lingering in the air. Seeing as the neighbor was dead, it could only have come from the woman currently being treated for a concussion and a fractured rib.
A few centuries ago, a human with the ability to fight demons and use magic wasn’t all that unusual, but these days such humans were nigh extinct. The handful with a talent for battling the supernatural were registered or at least recognized by The Company, otherwise known as my employer. However, when I’d called to make my preliminary report, there was no record for the woman, not even a post-it note on a caseworker’s desk. There may be six billion people on earth, but the supernatural world is much, much smaller and like calls to like. Someone like her ought to have been a shining beacon attracting all sorts of creatures. How did someone in her late twenties manage to slip under the radar?
Years ago she battled the forces of darkness to escape her own personal hell. This summer she returns…for revenge!
I glanced up at the television and chuckled. Slasher flicks were a guilty pleasure of mine, mostly because they got so many things wrong. I made a note of the release date and filed it away for later, and forced my brain to focus on the problem at hand. Aside from the mysterious woman, there was also the question of who summoned the demon. Devouring demons were low-ranking slave demons and they never ventured out of their realm unless someone called them. It’s easy enough to guess from their moniker what their primary function is, though something told me the little old lady it killed had not been the target. Oh, I thought it was told to go after my mystery woman’s neighbor, but only so it would draw my mystery woman out of hiding. It was a solid theory, I felt. All I needed now was proof.
My friend Harry is a sailor, see, and he’s got this habit of mixing up his idioms. He’s always saying stuff like, “Any joke in a storm.”
The audience on the television laughed uproariously, far more than they should have for such a pathetic joke. They continued to laugh as the camera panned around to capture their reaction. A couple of women were bent over in their seats holding their sides and one man was literally rolling in the aisle laughing. It was kind of creepy.
“It wasn’t that funny,” I told the screen. I should have known better, especially after an encounter with a demon. In my world, sometimes the electronics talk back.
“You try coming up with material on short notice,” a nasally voice retorted. The image on the screen became distorted, turning to snow, and then a small narrow face came into focus. At first glance it appeared human, but then the eyes were drawn to the long pointed ears, the too-sharp chin and nose, and finally the two antennae poking out through a thick mass of curly blonde hair. Though it didn’t show on camera, I knew tucked behind his back beneath a hard carapace were two beetle-like wings.
I rolled up the magazine still in my hand and held it up like a make-shift fly swatter. “Oh look, a pest for me to squash.”
The bugman sneered, his lips curling up to reveal a row of jagged teeth. “You shouldn’t throw around threats after what you did, Jacob.”
“It was only a joke, I swear. I didn’t think the exterminator would actually show up at your house.”
“It was my broods’ hatch day, you bastard!” He made as if he were going to come at me through the screen, though the gesture wasn’t terribly threatening considering we both knew televisions couldn’t serve as portals. It also didn’t help that I knew in real life he was barely four inches tall.
Recovering, he pushed a hand through his hair, his antennae springing back up when he was done. “Anyway, I’m not talking about that horrible incident. You screwed up tonight, Jacob.”
“Did I?” I unfurled the magazine and did everything I could to appear as disinterested as I felt. If it bothered him, he didn’t let on.
“Oh, you did, you did. She’s not happy with you at all.” “She” was his consort and his queen, Alaina, a bug-like fae who had the ability to become human-sized.
“When has she ever been happy with me? She’s still mad I wouldn’t fuck her on Beltane.”
“You take that back, blood-sucker! My queen would never soil our bed with you!”
“Of course not, I wouldn’t fit in your bed.” The soft plink of a bug flying headlong into the glass gave me a good chuckle. When I looked up to see bugman rubbing his head, my chuckle became a guffaw.
“You laugh now, but she’s filed a grievance with your bitch queen.”
“Janet’s not my queen; she’s my supervisor and my superior.” I narrowed my eyes at him, “And don’t call her a bitch either.” I know he didn’t intend it as an insult. Janet is a werewolf and an alpha in her pack, so in bugman’s world “bitch queen” was considered proper, possibly even respectful. Still, the term grated me and had Janet been there, she would have reached through the screen with a can of Raid. She’s a modern woman.
Bugman sniffed indignantly. “Whatever, you’re still in trouble. The girl you brought to the sick place isn’t in your, what’s the word? Jurisdiction. You’re not even supposed to know about her, blood-sucker.”
Crap, what have I stepped in now? Ignoring the fact that I might have unintentionally offended an entire fae court, I said in my most confident I-know-what-I’m-doing voice, “My jurisdiction is the entire planet, and that woman was nearly killed tonight by a devouring demon.”
“D-devouring demon?” Bugman’s eyes widened and his jaw went slack.
Well, well, it seemed I wasn’t the only one without all the details. “Yes, and it killed a mortal woman before your charge showed up and vanquished it. Tell your queen she has my sincerest apologies, but with my limited knowledge I thought it best to bring her here.”
Bugman’s mouth snapped shut. “This…changes things.”
“I thought it might,” I lied. Truth was I was relieved to have an excuse for accidentally interfering in fae politics. You ought to thank whoever sent the demon, I told myself. They just saved your hide.
“In light of this turn of events I find I must extend my gratitude and that of my queen’s.” He bowed stiffly and through gritted teeth said, “You have done us a great service.”
I nodded respectfully and said nothing. As much as I wanted to enjoy bugman’s obvious discomfort at having to thank me, I knew I was treading on thin ice. “Should I send your queen a copy of my report?”
“Don’t bother. We’ll be in touch with you soon.” With that, the screen went blank. A few seconds later it crackled to life with the infomercial I’d heard earlier. I stared at it dumbly, wondering what I’d stumbled into.
Whatever it was, it wasn’t good.
