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@mountaintracked
Is that JON BERNTHAL? No, that’s OLIVER KING. The 40 year old BLOOD MOON ALPHA WERE-MOUNTAIN LION is a MECHANIC/REPAIRMAN. If you ask their friends, they’re known to be ATTENTIVE & PERSISTENT, but beware, they’re also known to be AGGRESSIVE & VENGEFUL. Can you believe they’re from THE PRESENT? Me neither.
MATT DILLON FACTOTUM, 2005
emotions can be fickle.
sometimes they malfunction & what should be triggering dread instead triggered another emotion entirely. the one where - despite having been tortured for three days straight & being pretty much bound to a hospital bed, joy filled him to the brim. part of him knew that behavior was ....not real, not really ...real anyway. conditioning. trenton spent a long time training him - trial & error, good cop & bad cop, although trenton was always the bad cop & everything elias did always called for measures that had to be taken to fix unwanted behavior.
when all elias asked for was .... love. a gentle smile, a firm hand, a little bit of time on a busy man's day. elias never asked for the stars or the moon, he wouldn't know what to do with them anyway, but he had dreams & wishes of his own that trenton ensured would never become reality & just as elias was beginning to think he could recover from the year spent under the bear's thumb, he's back.
& elias should be terrified, he should be angry, he should be nervous & afraid, but .... all he could think about was: he's changed his mind! he came back for me. but when the man speaks, confusion reached its maximum & elias has to admit that ... maybe this isn't trenton. or maybe he's simply playing ... a game. trenton loved his games, because if elias didn't keep up, the alpha had yet another excuse to discipline him.
or was all this just ...the meds?
would they make him see someone who wasn't there? someone who technically couldn't be there. "trenton, i... i thought you were gone." there's talks of a nurse & help, but elias' mind is swimming - he didn't think a nurse could help with that. "please, don't leave me again." he sits up, blue eyes pleading across when their eyes meet. he looked like he was close to crying, which wasn't ...for show. "i need to-" oh, the urge to roll out of bed & drop his pants was immense. "don't leave, please. i.... this makes no sense." trenton & working? fixing things, no less? that ...sounded wrong. fake.
"who... who are you?" maybe there was an explanation… for this? “do… do you remember me? elias?” wishful thinking perhaps - the deeply-lodged wish to be remembered.
His folly was to think men like Treton could change their mind. His tragedy was to think men like himself could change Trenton's mind for him. Men are all one-track minded--sometimes that's good, sometimes that's productive, and... then sometimes, there's men like your ex, whose one-track thinking led him to use you and abuse you at his convenience, and like a kicked puppy, making you come back for more. I guess each shifter could not help but carry on the nature of their form, wasn't it, pup? Oliver knows that well. The things he's done, are the things he is. And maybe you like that bit of mean in a bad, bad, biker boy.
It would have been far less cruel if this was all just a trick of the hazy medications they had Elias on, making his sight fuzzy, and his memories jumbling up with the present. But no. As misfortune would have it, Trenton's extensive breeding efforts in the Medieval past did spread his seed (sort of like a plague, actually?) across the pond, and helped repopulate the bear population of North America, where they found safe haven in the Rockies & throughout Canada, who would then encounter the likewise native mountain lion population, and over the thousands of years or so, when mommy and daddy love each other very much, and... you get it. An unholy union later in the Wild West, fast forwarded to the present day, and you get this shit. Elias' own little private heaven/nightmare: TRENTON COLLIER back from the fucking dead & reborn anew. This could go either way, really, but... now's not the time, not when Elias is so indisposed like this, after being a witch's prisoner of war for days. And don't you go thinking that just because it's not Trenton, that he doesn't have his own... little issues. Maybe you like men that way.
"I, ah... hahah..." it's kind of a nervous laugh, but mostly harmless. He's never seen this man before, but he's asking if you remember him. Not the best thing you wanna hear from a stranger in a hospital. Kinda creepy, actually. "No, no, hey. Hey. Dont'cha worry, now, Elias. I'm just gonna--" peeking his head out the door again, asking for a nurse in here. Damn it. What's taking so fucking long. It'd be real awkward to just go on about doing his repair work while the patient is clearly seeing shit and having a moment there, without his nurse to uhh... he doesn't know? Knock his ass out? Push some 5 cc of good-night and call it a day. He fixes bikes, not guys. He mostly breaks guys, actually. "Hey, so..." he's stroking his fine but plentiful dark scruff around the chin, trying to think of a way to calm this guy down and hopefully not trigger a scene. "I don't think I know ya, bud, sorry. But it's nice t' meet ya, ah, Elias? I'm Oliver, now, partner." Evidently cowboy, which should hopefully dispel the Trenton illusion without breaking his heart in two or three or whichever largest integer you can compute, IT man. "I'm just 'ere to fix this shit here." He says, fist on his hip, accentuating the tool belt, while other hand's thumb points backwards, up at the broken AC mounted on the wall behind him. "You got me mistaken for someone else. Bet he must've been hot, though, ah? He ever call you back?" You know. Trying to make light with a joke. With any luck, Elias would laugh politely at this little social faux pas and crisis would be averted.
FRANK CASTLE manspread, manhandle, manslaughter
@mountaintracked
elias was not in a good place right now - or maybe he hadn't been in a long.... long time. he left the safety of his home & family for new haven to find a better life for someone like him & to ensure they weren't in danger because of him, but everything he found in new haven was anguish & sorrow, pain & rejection. he found a new life he was meant to be part of, but it kicked him to the curb any chance it got.
he lost his heart to a homicidal maniac, he endured.... & endured, gave it his all, gave everything he had to this town & his relationship, but what did that get him? nothing. just... pain. he might've escaped trenton's grasp, maybe this mother nature he always mentioned had taken trenton from him for a reason - had brought him back into his time so that elias could find peace, but he wasn't sure if he even could & he hated that he couldn't think of anything else right now, stuck in this damn hospital bed with nowhere else to go, nobody to turn to. with both trenton & patrick gone, elias was truly alone.
he thought about going home a lot, but was he willing to put the people he loved at risk for a chance at happiness? nah. he also thought about how it was possible that his ac was malfunctioning - when ... it was hot out, but he wasn't moving much, so ... yeah. but most of all did he wonder why the fuck trenton was back. words lost even when the other greeted him tools in a bag he brought with him, elias ...couldn't. weakened, in pain, a little dizzy from the meds & horrified of the consequences of his kidnapping, he just ..
couldn't.
"what ....what are you doing here?.... h-how?"
Now, what are you doing here is actually a really simple question, one that the repairman was happy to oblige, but a stammered how was a bit tricky. Between the dizziness and pain and disorientation, Elias looked a whole lot worse for wear, still in his hospital bed, not in good shape enough for discharge, and... well, looking like he just saw a ghost. A very bad ghost. You know, most people say they fear ghosts, but one ought to realize, a ghost would be like the spirit of the deceased, so why wouldn't you encounter the spirit of a lost loved one? Wouldn't one be happier to see a ghost?
... and are you? This ghost, in particular? Be a good boy, now.
Oliver had greeted the mostly-spaced-out patient that he'd never met before rather quietly, as he felt the country-polite need to acknowledge him, whilst also not really wanting to wake up the patients, since most of them were lights out most of the time he was ever contracted to do a repair. Between modern medicine's drugs and some bitchy-witchy concoctions that New Haven's arcane specialists could cook up to speed up the healing process of supernaturals, there was a whole lotta fuckers blissed out in the hospitals and clinics in town. He'd just said hi, and that it'd be right over quick in his Montana hick voice, then promptly turned around, one hand on his hip, the other hauling that heavy duffel bag of tools, neck cranked to look right up at the AC high up in the wall. He didn't expect the patient to care or want to interact. Head turned around with a friendly hospitality smile when Elias began to ask him something, which he was about to say, oh I'm 'ere to fix the air now bud, when Elias suddenly started to look... freaked out. Oliver's smile turned upside out. Was the patient having a bad trip? "Ah... hol'... hol'd on." He began looking around, then poked his head out the door. "Hol' on, now, bud. I'm just the handyman, now. Lemme, uh, just find yer nurse or something..."
"maybe not for them, but sure as hell for me. cars..." but he stopped himself, because no, this was not a car & he very much would like a car instead, but riders couldn't be taking cars hostage on their travels, so he was stuck with that old piece-of-crap cop bike nobody knew existed in the garage anymore until they searched for it, for him. it did its job most of the time & when it didn't... well, then it had reason. he assumed. "vehicles in general aren't my thing."
like today, maybe mother nature did this for a reason. maybe when he got home, he'd find something he didn't expect & ended up only finding it because he spent hours here at the auto shop. who could tell what their fate looked like, right? he sure as hell couldn't. because if he did, life would be.. different. probably. or maybe it'd go the exact same way, because there was a path for him, spun & weaved, just waiting to be treaded on. ryan believed in destiny.
he knew he was meant for this. his son, the town, good work, even better side work. he gave, it was just ... how he lived & that was okay. he wouldn't want an alpha in his home anyway, it wouldn't end well. unless it was angel bringing friends over, that... was okay. other than that? ryan had no plans whatsoever to change his life for one of them, not again - not ever. yes, he'd been blessed with his child's birth, but he wouldn't make the same mistake twice. or thrice. no, he was smarter than that.
never in a million years would he assume for his badge to work the opposite way of his intentions. it was a sign of honor, of loyalty to their home & the undying love he felt for their town & some of its inhabitants. yeah yeah, he protected alphas too if they needed it. at least this one could multi task. crack jokes & look over his bike. congrats, buddy, you're not a caveman. "it's drivin' okay?" yeah, he knew what that look meant, but he refused to accept it. the bike was fine. well, it had been until it wasn't. eyes trailed down to watch the man as he inspected his bike & he could not avert his eyes when he all but slapped it. did he have really big hands? or was that his imagination? those would probably would be able to wrap around his throat in its entirety.
clearing his throat, all ryan heard was fix & that sufficed, so he nodded in confirmation, because he definitely was the type of guy to appreciate good work done in his favor & only hesitated for the shortest of moments whether to share his name or not. he did, though, hesitate when it came to that hand. he'd be smelling that oil on his hands for a week at least & find dark stains everywhere. not the first time he was in that position, really. his white button-up didn't really make that decision any easier. hand hovered & he was sure it showed, but & it took him so incredibly much willpower to do it, he let their hands meet halfway, shaking it ...hesitantly. "estrada. i mean, ryan. ryan'll work." would be strange to call the other by his first name when ... it didn't work the other way around, too.
"new one ain't happenin', it's a miracle i got that one." & he didn't exactly have the funds to get a brand new one. new haven didn't exactly produce their own vehicles. "can't i just come back when it gives up again an' you do the same ...again?" not that he was eager to be back here, not at all. just ... couldn't they keep his bike running? soft sigh. "any chance you'd help me find a new one... somewhere?"
Everyone and everything was always fine until it wasn't. That's how things break. Men, rides, and bikes. Sometimes all it takes is a misstep to make the dislodge the mountain snow into an avalanche. Smallest step that it is. Doesn't mean you can fix the mountain, now. Ryan was in denial--Oliver saw that clear as the big sky in Montana. He sees this all the time, usually cause the client wants to be stingy and claim it ain't that big of a job, oh his truck only needed a lil' touch up, can't ya just do it for eighty? C'mon, my cousin in Bozeman can do it for cheaper. Well, take your shitbox over to your cousin's then. They never do. They just roll their eyes and pay up. There never was ol' cousin in Bozeman. Ryan, at least, didn't seem to be in denial in order to cheap out on him, rather, it's just more his... personality: in denial about the whole many things in his life that fell apart and could use total replacement, not a simple touch up. That attitude for starters, ah, kitty?
Bastard that he was, he knew he'd stain Ryan's hand with lubricant & grease with the shake. It was about character. Shows you a measure of a man. Not afraid to get his hands dirty, now. He saw the hesitation and grinned discreetly with the very-tip corner of his right lip. Good boy. Oil on your hands will be least of the ways Oliver would dirty him right on.
"Mhm." He just sounds out in agreement when Ryan says there wouldn't be a new one, it's a miracle he's gotten this poor girl. He understands. He wasn't in the business of selling bikes, no point in pushing the case. So long as the client was aware that she wouldn't last long. He starts working his magic, rough, greasy hands right in there like shotgun surgeon, giving Ryan's old bikes the works in them guts. Sound of metal on metal, cranking, spinning parts, loosening and unscrewing for access. He's got his replacement on the floor next to his knees to the right, sat over a thick blue cloth. The parts he removes, all oily and a little rusty even, unceremoniously placed aside to his left. Head peaks over the bike's seat, eyes on Ryan when he speaks, which drew his attention away for a second. He asks the most innocent thing. It gets a laugh out of the mechanic, shake of his head side to side, before lowering gaze and continuing working his magic. "Ah. Wouldn't that be nice, mister. But naw, it's like, ah... it's like surgery. Yeah. Y'know, put in a new valve or joint here n' there, but it ain't good as new. They can't just keep givin' ya another heart every month. I can keep replacin' her bit by bit but soon enough it'll start costing ya more than a new one."
And there just ain't no sense in that. Finding a new one... somewhere, however? It got his ears perked up. Little mountain cat that heard the treat bag being crumpled. He tried real hard to suppress that spike in excitement that let you know it got his attention. It was entrapment. Had to be. Fucking cop. "Somewhere, now, officer? Where y'thinkin' you might just find a new one, hm?" You know you'll make your daddy cry, Ryan.
PARKER YOUNG as Riley United States of Al 1.03 "Shorts/Neykar"
at the end of the day, alphas were ...all the same. ryan had long since stopped trying to see the differences. working the job he did, he'd seen his fair share of alphas & if anybody could judge just how predictable & stereotypically caveman-ish they were, it was ryan. this one would be no different. thinking only with his knot. they all did & the worst was that ryan had ... subjected himself to their ... whims recently. more than in a long time & much, much more than he ever planned to.
who was he to lecture angel on alphas & how important it was the young lion kept his distance when ryan... had fallen victim to his instincts time & time again. the old lion suddenly faced with the sad reality that he had lived with a false sense of pride over the past twenty years, thinking it was his own willpower that kept him from falling for their antics when in reality.. it'd been the meds. fucking meds. without them, he'd succumbed to baser instinct in like what? a few mere weeks? gods, he hated this.
he hated that his body seemed to think it knew better what he wanted than ryan did & that a whiff of oil-greased, rough around the edges alpha could make him stop in his tracks. just like that. that urge to prove his independency & autonomy in front of the other unbearable, while .. instinct told him to plead. mother nature sure was biased when she created them all.
did he think he was funny? or .. aiming to be charming? a tease. pffhht. ryan .. was not in the mood for banter right now. or rather.. never. least of all when subjected to the mercy of an alpha. he looked cute when he smiled. definitely broader than he'd first assumed, but ryan wasn't bothered by his ... sudden change in posture. his own expression ever-lasting, he eyed him closely, waiting for the man to pick a choice & run with it. you gonna help me or not? what are you gonna ask for in return, i wonder? "compromise? either it runs or it ain't." should he be worried about a half-assed patch-up job? nah, right?
but...?
it was an obvious move. let him wait, let him sweat, so that the eventual yes made him seem like the hero every alpha felt he was. ah, yeah - his big, strong hero. doing the work he signed up for. because when an alpha worked, the world had to rejoice. ryan overworked himself almost daily & he didn't see a single alpha rolling out the red carpet for him.
& then it finally dropped. thank you, dear savior, oh great alpha. "my hero. you ain't gonna be askin' for a kidney in a year here now, are ya?" he shot back, with the crack of an almost-half smile on his lips. he walked him out to his bike, which had been abandoned before his journey to find the very mechanic who had decided to work today after all. "if i knew what it was, i wouldn't be in need of savin'." maybe he should add that to his list of future accomplishments. learn to fix shit. "all i know.. it's dead. it was fine in the mornin', been acting up some over the past month, but nothin' too critical. guess i shoulda come here earlier."
with how ryan crossed his arms in front of his chest, beige trench coat riding up enough to let his badge shimmer, one could think he was posing.
Hypocrisy, now, detective, doesn't get your bike fixed any sooner. All it takes is one Alpha treating you wrong and it has condemned you to a lifetime of... well, you. You knowww... You, and all that you are. Pretty little slutty papi thing, all Missus Superior and don't-want-no-Alpha-man [...] always the ones who blush n' plead the most in bed, just begging to be made a bride. An irreparable romantic who thought suppressants could supplement being in love. True? Nod yes & no in your subconscious, if the posturing facade won't allow you to speak up. Just don't stare at Oliver's hairy forearms as he pulls up his sleeves to get to workin' too long, or you might go mad.
"Hey, not true at all. I get folks here-and-there coming in for something they already know where n' when it went wrong, they just ain't got the tools to make it happen. Or the parts. Or the time. Or the patience. Orrr..." he's stalling, making a joke out of the very thing he's listing, just a criminal robbing Ryan of a few seconds of his time for a joke, just down there, squatting by Ryan's bike, cracking a grin at him. Haha, it's not like you mind being here a little longer, Detective. But... from down there, as Ryan poses trying to remain competitively afloat in this den of Alphahood that he calls a repair shop... he sees it, that shimmering badge on his hip. There's an immediate, but glimpse-brief snarl that is instantly suppressed--mountain lions don't lash out, they hate, they stalk, they pounce. Unseen. Clean. Without a trace. He certainly smiling, but he's working now, and it's like nothing's wrong in the world. Saw nothing, detective.
Perceptive eyes, dexterous hands. He's tinkering around with Ryan's ride, putting it to the test & measure with his devices, running diagnostics, listening for the sounds, the clanks. It's all very surgical, fascinating to watch, actually. Grew up around trucks and other large rigs, bikes in the Summer as folks went up the mountain to ride the wind. "Nothin' too critical?" He looks up from the bike, incredulous, greasy-to-ashen hands from handling it already. If this isn't critical, you can only imagine how the department treats its incarcerated population. "This here bike's begging for one last ride before you put her down, Sheriff. Haha, Jesus." He slaps twice down on the top of the bike's exhaust and any resemblance to slapping that ass is entirely of your own perversion, before lifting himself off the squat, hands on his knees, staining black prints on his already-dirty jeans. He begins to move inwards into his shop to pick up parts & tools for the job, but "I can, ah, Band-Aid her, now, but it ain't a fix. It'll run you just fine getting out of here, but, ah, Mr...?" He forgot to ask. But now that they will shake on an agreement to service, they can meet formally. Brows perked up and rough working oily hand outstretched in his direction. Don't be shy, it's more embarrassing if you don't shake it just cause it's dirty, sugar & silk princess. "It can't last. You'll need a new ride soon. I'm Oliver, by the way, now."
Jon Bernthal as Frank Castle | The Punisher 2x05
@mountaintracked
"mmmmmmmh." friday afternoon had not meant to go like this. admittedly, ryan wasn't a sister of the fates, so who was he to judge what his day was supposed to be like, but at the same time... this couldn't have not been foreseen, could it? because, five pm in the afternoon - almost dinner time & he .. was stuck with a bike that refused to cooperate. if he went home without fixing it, he'd have to hit up the repair shop on monday & mondays... were not good days for that, not even in new haven.
saturday was just as bad - if not worse. families with crying kids, vacation-goers & the like. so, he sent a quick text home, telling his son he would not be home for dinner & he'd be eating out. somewhere. he'd find a place - depending on how long he'd be stuck ad the repair shop. if the mechanic ended up capable, maybe he'd be home in time. or a little later than that. maybe today only seemed like it would end in shambles & he'd find himself surprised.
yeah, pffhhht. as if.
days like these, ryan was glad new haven wasn't the a city, because he could easily push his bike through town to the shop without running into too much trouble along the way, but in the city? he wouldn't have come far. did it take for-fucking-ever? for sure. but hoping to find a rental suv or truck in the area? felt too much like hoping for a miracle. ryan didn't believe in miracles.
the light was on when he got there, the big door up front up & open, practically inviting him in - only that... the shop was empty? music was rustling on an old radio somewhere around there, but even when he listened closely... that was all he could pick up on. he glanced around, searching & finding a place for him to sit while he waited, but it seemed like he wouldn't have to.
alpha.
ryan caught that scent long before he even saw the culprit, but when he did, he knew he was looking at the right guy. definitely like him, if not ... quite. not that it mattered, who cared what the alpha was? surely not him. why would he? alphas were fucking overrated anyway & he already had too many of them messing with him. brows furrowed to form his usual frown, because why on earth did he have to run into an alpha working here? surely, there were omega mechanics, too, ....right? right? ugh.
soft sigh of defeat, because he wasn't going to spend the next hour arguing about a replacement mechanic when this one seemed to be the only one in the shop for the weekend anyway. arms crossed in front of his chest, ryan .. instinctively made himself a little more ...confident, despite a little voice whispering relentlessly. so maybe he was handsome... for an alpha & yeah, okay .. maybe he smelled surprisingly nice. didn't change the fact he was an alpha, though & the scent.. probably only hit him as hard as it did, because he was close to a whole-ass week of horror.
"you still takin' on jobs for t'night? kinda need my ride fixed fast." he really wanted to forget his manners, but ... alpha or not, he couldn't just ... not. "please."
Oh, but you said please, now, detective. That changes everything. How could he ever leave a little wet kitten stranded out in the rain like that? Easily, probably, but he didn't know the man like that just yet. An omega with a natural born hatred of Alphas, known to arrive at crime scenes with tongue blazing insults at men he finds attractive for just doing their job, but surprisingly polite when he doesn't feel like pushing his old bike uphill home. Smart kitty. Hypocritical, but it's practical. He knew of him by smell when someone rolled into his shop at closing hours:
omega
See, Oliver, on the other hand, had the opposite visceral reaction to the fairer sex that Ryan felt about Alphas. Understandable, I suppose. The tree remembers, even if the axe forgets, along those lines. The old cougar wasn't going to pretend prey ought not to hate predator. It made sense. He'd been acquainted & estranged with the county jail back home like a Vegas wedding, roadside sex on the 15, and a bad breakup in Salt Lake City, which he can only imagine is how an omega must feel like, cohabitating with his jailer. Still, feels good to be the one holding the keychain. You come along because I love your face, doll.
Hands were (mostly) clean already, shitty old radio playing the same shitty old radio station--the only one they've got here in New Haven, blessedly cut off from the outside human world, while he worked on a paper ledger with pencil, tip sharpened by hand with a knife. Secretive & sharp instincts, he closes the ledger when the stranger approaches asking if he's still working at this hour. It was nearly closing, the nine-to-five coming to an end, and I suppose Ryan knew that, too. "Fixed and fast, huh, mister?" Noticeably Northern, if your ears are perked up. He un-leans from the workbench counter he had been writing up his ledger on, hands go to his hips, rancher posture, sturdy mountain man. "Most folks have to compromise, it's fixed right, or it's done fast. With the wrench at least. Fixed fast, I could do ya solid with..." Tilt of the head right and subtle grin he cannot contain rising on the corner of his lip let him know he's just teasing. A cough to clear the throat, expression resets. "Listen, ah, I was closing shop for the day..." it lingers and it stings, like praying over a shot of Pendleton, counting on there being a but to chase with. "Buuut... you're here now. Ah. Ah, c'mon then, paws, I won't leave you stranded out here." Right hand unseats from hip, pointing over out toward the garage door, before returning to place. He begins to swagger on over. "Let's take a crack at it then. Know what gave out already, or you just drive n' park?--no, ah, worries if you don't, course." A man's job. "I'll look all the same."
I watch The Punisher for the plot
