ext_12572: (Daisy Serious)
[identity profile] sinanju.livejournal.com posting in [community profile] crossing_lostrp
Who: Daisy Adair (in Damon's body)
When: Immediately following A Mother's Touch
Where: The beach (Camp Crash)
Invited: Beach dwellers
Status: Complete


Daisy had tried not to laugh. She really, really had.

It wasn't funny! she told herself. But--come on, of course it was. That obnoxious, sexist bastard reduced (in his mind, at least) to a mere woman. A slip of a woman at that. A new mother with breasts full of milk and a hungry infant in his arms.

The island had been a font of inconvenience, discomfort and weirdness since they crashed here. But this once it seemed to have dispensed some justice. Just maybe Detective Inspector Gene Hunt would learn a little something from this incident.

Daisy had laughed--and instantly felt the murderous rage that rolled off of Hunt like a slap in the face. Claire's face had twisted in a very unattractive scowl and she'd stared daggers at Daisy. "Don't you laugh at me, you bastard!" Claire had roared, not remembering--or perhaps not caring--that it was Daisy, not Damon laughing.

Aaron stopped nursing to voice his fear and alarm at the hostility suddenly radiating off his mother. As he'd screamed his displeasure, Damon had turned to glare over his shoulder at Daisy--and seeing her own face glaring at her was weirdly disquieting.

"You're. Not. Helping," Damon had said. The unspoken thought, If you aren't going to help, get out. came through loud and clear.

The laughter had died away abruptly. The stew of terror, humiliation, rage, and disdain from the three other occupants of the room was tangible. It was oppressive, stifling. Daisy had desperately wanted to escape it. She wanted to be somewhere else. Anywhere else--


--and suddenly Daisy was standing in loose sand, blinking tear-filled eyes as the after image of the early morning sun hung in her field of vision. She raised one hand to shield her eyes from the brilliance of the sun.

A stiff breeze filled with the smell of the sea blew in her face, stirring the hair on head--and on her arms and legs. Daisy shivered at the alien feel of it. She heard the crash of the surf, and the screech of gulls overhead.

(I'm on the beach,) Daisy thought dully. She looked around, knowing before she turned her head that she'd see the makeshift shelters and debris of the survivors' camp all around her. She thought she ought to be shocked by this turn of events but she just didn't have it in her.

Surprise fatigue Blaise had called it once. (Good name for it,) Daisy thought. So Damon could...vanish and reappear somewhere else? (What a useful talent,) Daisy thought. (It would make Reaping so much more convenient--)

"Damon? Is that you?"

Daisy turned. Hurley stood behind her. Something about his posture was off. "No, I'm Daisy. Daisy Adair. You're not Hurley. Who are you?"

Hurley smiled as if pleased. "Very good. I'm Sue. Sue Cullen."

[Damon] Karmic Glimpses

Date: 2007-06-19 06:02 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] fikgirl.livejournal.com
Damon was embarrassed, Claire was embarrassed and Hunt was livid and digusted. Feeding had been a terrible ordeal for everyone, including Aaron, and Damon hadn't been looking forward to repeating the process again in a few hours. But Hunt couldn't be talked into learning to use the breast pump, so only Claire's threats of tying him down and treating him like a cow seemed to matter at all.

Damon had the feeling that it was because he realized how much beefier his body was than Claire's and how much Claire probably didn't know Hunt's strength.

While Claire took a shower - not telling Hunt was her intention was, but insisting once she and Damon were out of earshot that she couldn't smell like him all day and "I'll keep my eyes clothes and not touch anything, but he smells like something died in a brewery." - Damon was on Aaron duty. He didn't mind Aaron duty as staying calm and keeping the baby soothed distracted him from remembering what it was like to hold Claire's very full, breasts in his hands.

There was absolutely nothing romantic or sexy about it - and it was even a bit gross and creepy when he let himself recall who was in possession of Claire's body - but his mind found great pleasure and satisfaction in revisiting those moments. As twisted as it was, he got totally aroused when he remembered those moments and Damon was actually relieved to be in Daisy's body. It meant he wasn't walking around at half-mast.

When nursing time came again, Hunt grumbled, cursed and was generally uncooperative. Claire insisted that Damon should "assist" because she didn't want "his bloody hands on my breasts." The logic was lost on him, given that Claire was in Hunt's body, but she refused to back down. Damon decided to - wisely - not press his luck by asking if that meant she wanted Damon's hands on her (very lovely) breasts.

Damon resumed his kneeling position and positioned the baby when the world slid away from him. It snapped back suddenly and with excruciating pain. His head felt like someone was going at it with a jackhammer from the inside out, and the cacophony of voices and emotions was overwhelming. The heat was stifling and the dark was little comfort and scrambling at his shields only hurt more.

The world realigned itself just as quickly and for the first time, Damon was happy to not be in his body.

Hunt roared, scaring Aaron and Claire gave a loud cry of despair.

Damon simply pulled the pieces together, recognizing the pain of an exertion headache.

Now that's karma, Damon thought. All telepaths learned it the hard way eventually; for right now, Daisy was a telepath.

Maybe if he could figure out where she teleported to, he'd try to find a way to help her.

Or maybe he'd just ask Jon to give her a mental shout out.

And if my body isn't recovered by the time this is over, then I'll kill her.

Date: 2007-06-11 11:32 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] fikgirl.livejournal.com

Sawyer in Michael's body!

*wipes tears*

July 2007

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