#Hibernate Time For Jackals alas

[jackals-ships]

hm hm doing this to the fic

[jayden-killer]

BLACKOUT.

Paring: Steven Grant/Marc Spector × Gender neutral reader.

A/N: OK everyone, this is my first one short ever published here, on Tumblr. I kinda stuck writing, that's why Im trying to improve my writing skills. As a reminder, English is not my first language: if you find any errors, point them out to me! <3 Enjoy!

°~°

There was something wrong with Steven Grant. Lately his behavior seemed quite out of the norm, for example: forgetting where he was, the day, the time, what he was doing, to wear such clothing. It was worrisome, and yet he didn’t seem to realize it himself. As if things were all right. Normally, you know. I couldn’t understand this nonchalance from Steven.

—It’s nothing— he always repeated, with a reassuring smile on his face, —I don’t think I’ve come out of melon. At least, not yet!—

I even talked to him about considering an appointment with a psychiatrist, a good one.

He didn’t want to know about it. He claimed that he had nothing and that it was just stress that aggravated his situation. And insomnia. That was not so much insomnia.

One episode in particular caught my attention: he claimed to have been chased by a jackal the evening after our movie night. I stared at him in disbelief, not understanding the meaning of his words.

—A jackal? In a museum?

—__, you have to believe me, but it’s true! I’m not crazy, there really was that... thing that chased me, it scared the shit outta of me!

—Steven, don’t you think you need some sleep medicine?— I said, calmly, but worried.

—No, no, this is not about insomnia, I swear on the bloody Queen of Shiba! That thing chased me and then, the next moment, I didn’t understand anything.

I rubbed my eyes. I tried to understand something about what he was telling me, but it seemed so far-fetched as to be true. More like he was telling a lucid dream or... whatever it was.

—Go home, Steven-. My hand found place on his shoulder, making small, slow movements to reassure him, accompanied by a slight smile—you’re too stressed. Is Donna also influencing these... hallucinations?

—It really happened.

—Never mind, go home and enjoy the rest you deserve.

I was right: Steven needed to pull the plug for a while. Maybe take some time off, do something new, vent through a hobby...

Maybe, for once, he listened to my advice.

But...

I didn’t hear from him for two whole days.

𖣘 𖣘 𖣘 𖣘 𖣘 𖣘 𖣘 𖣘 𖣘 𖣘 𖣘 𖣘 𖣘 𖣘

—Steven, are you home?

Nothing. I had already knocked three times at the door, alas, no answer from the other end. That he had gone into hibernation?

Shaking my head at that intrusive thought I did, I focused on the current situation.

Ah, wait a minute...

—Bingo! Unbelievable, sometimes I feel like I’ve got my head in the clouds worse than Steven— I laugh between me and me.

I was able to find the key to her apartment in my backpack. Why would I have a copy of hi original key? In short words: Steven often came to me, and I came to him, so much that we decided to copy the keys of our houses to each other. And if one left something in the other’s apartment, we wouldn’t have a problem with the key we had.

Brilliant, isn’t it?

Returning to where we were, with a forced click, the lock led the door to open. Calmly, but urgently, I took a quick look at all the rooms of his soulless home. The lights were off, things were well set up (unusual for Steven, he often leaves them where they happen), the bed well made.

So he left home?

—How about leaving the apartment, now?

As I turned around, I found myself in front of a someone who couldn't be Steven Grant. It didn’t look like him, he had something different: his hair was held back by the gel, he was wearing a leather jacket and a tight-fitting shirt underneath, as well as jeans.

His posture had also changed completely: he was way more rigid and imposing, while the accent no longer seemed typical English. In fact, hearing him right it was American.

—What are you saying? I’m here because I haven’t heard from you. Is this your way to thank me?

—I didn’t ask you to come here.

—Well, I’m here now, so suck it up.

Answering in tone was not one of the main characteristics of the man in front of me. He had literally lost everything about Steven Grant and now he was a completely new person. What the fuck was going on?

—What did you do to the accent? And the hair?—I pointed at his hair change, intrigued.

No answer.

–Okay, will you at least tell me where you’ve been these days?

Still no answer.

Nothing.

—Who you really are? Where is Steven?

—Do you always stick your nose in things that don’t concern you?

This last question made me completely out of my mind. Anger issues had never been one of my favorite traits, and controlling them was even more difficult. Clenching my fists until they turned white didn’t help. I was a volcano, which could explode at any moment: that was the right time to explode.

—Then I’m so sorry if I came to check if you were okay or not, Steven or whoever you are! Next time, however, whatever happens, don’t expect my help, because if this is your gratitude, then I won’t help you anymore! You’re happy now, huh?

But I never expected the moment I burst into tears. A hand checked that I was really crying, bringing it to my left cheek: how had I not noticed it before?

Pulling up with my nose, and wiping away the remnants of tears, I looked into Steven’s eyes and in a broken voice I said: —I will no longer be there with you in times of greatest need.

With a brisk pace I rushed out of the apartment, but Steven took the opportunity to grab my wrist and stop before I left. He whispered something indecipherable.

—What did you say?— I questioned.

—Don’t leave me too, please.

Now Steven was crying too, and he didn’t mind covering his sobs. His hand let go of my wrist and covered his face. I realized that Steven was going through a tough time, and I shouldn’t have reacted that way, but moving away wasn’t gonna solve much. I let my arms embrace him and hold him close to me, whispering words of comfort. Tempted to reassure him, and when he did, I felt a second change. His expression softened, his eyes now kinder: the Steven I knew had returned.

—Is everything all right?— I asked, worried.

—Not quite. There’s something you need to know, maybe this is the right time to do it.

—Sure— I offered a reassuring smile, —I’ll hear you.

And that’s how I learned about Steven’s condition: a Dissociative Identity Disorder, and another person living in his body. He explained who I’d been dealing with a few minutes earlier, I held his hand and made him talk. 

So, Marc was the one who pushed me away before?, I thought. Putting together the pieces of the puzzle, I knew why he was acting so strange.

—You don’t think I... don’t think we’re crazy, right, ___? - Steven asked, his eyes on the verge of filling with tears and crying again. His lip trembled, and his face resembled that of a frightened and confused child.

A smile made its way to my lips, hugging Steven (and Marc) a second time.

—No, Steven... there’s nothing wrong with you, guys. And whatever happens- I took his face gently, looked him in the eyes,—we’ll face it together. All three of us.

[mother-snake]

promised story 1-

(this one is an origional and first chapter to a book im going over at  the minuet, any constructive critisism would be nice and anything you liked about or didnt like would be good for me so i can perhapse change certain things in future!) -if you guys like it enough i might post the other chapters as i work along them. and if youd like, i can tagg you in!-

UNLOCKED: kurbose words: 3641 warnings: small fight thing happens at begining.

chapter 2-  n/a

chapter 1 -I will eat this sandwich; fate just has other plans.

At least crows don’t judge people for doing the bizarre things they do, I suppose. For example; the fact that I was sitting down on top of the rather worn-down churches roof that lay in the dead centre of the village, slowly turning into a town. Very slowly... I’d blame me getting up here on my habit of using my, not so useful, skill of getting into trouble; but in all honesty that excuse’ became unreliable since the tenth time I’d deliberately made my way up here. Not that I minded much.

Ten or so crows were lined on either side of me cawing loudly at one another trying to get closer, hoping that they could snag some of the sandwich I was eating. It had been wrapped up and stayed in my pocket since the morning. I had always left then in the early hours and barely came back until nightfall. the murder was slowly becoming more and more agitated as they looked at the sandwich with a keen eye.

lunch I had to skip due to them… I don’t mean the birds of course. not the birds. Never. Ever. blame the birds.

the night air was always calming. The stars seemed to look down upon me with a curious gaze, as if asking why I was still in the melancholy village. Living in such a boring place for years. sometimes it felt like hundreds of eyes were on me. that’s why I always sat on top of the roof. And when I did, I couldn’t help but feel a form of freedom I couldn’t get anywhere else. Mayhaps that was because I wasn’t supposed to be up there in the first place. Alas. We shall never know.

sure, some people would enjoy the normal life. Not worrying about what would be around the corner. But I I’m not like that, when it’s all you know. You’d wish for something to change.

I surveyed the area in my line of vision. It was slowly becoming dark enough that everything was blending together. But I could still see the outlines of everything. the sound of the canal that split the village up in sections was only a couple streets away.

I could recognise some of the people lined up by their houses getting the final things ready. And those who were wondering the streets were making their ways home. it was fairly easy to remember everyone in the town. No one really moved here, and if they did, they would mostly stay till they were old and grey.

One of the many people I could see from where I was is Miss hazel. I could see her picking some of the herbs and flowers for her medicines and potions. She was our physician much to many traveller’s surprise.

Then there was Mr. jackal who was sitting on his doorstep. A small wooden pipe in hand, a faint smoke ring coming from the pipe. Sometimes I felt that I’d never seen him going anywhere without it.

The brother and sister, Lawrence and Catherine were running after one another, up and down the street below. They were five and seven. Catherine being the eldest. She was very much a saint in many eyes. Learning how to climb into small places for things we had lost.

Her brother Lawrence had been practicing magic as far as anyone knew. He was getting better as the year continued to pass. He had started in early spring and not seemed to have stopped since. He had a wizard’s soul, that’s for sure. Only one in thousands seemed to appear.

Mrs. Evelyn was looking around the streets from one of her windows waving down to everyone, looking up and spotting me, I gave a quick wave back. I couldn’t hear her but I could tell she was laughing as a crow hopped up onto my lap and stole a slither of meat from my sandwich.

Sometimes it was nice to see a familiar face, but when you know practically everyone who walks the street daily. It can get rather boring, their conversations tended to repeat with nothing interesting happening most of the time.

I was cut from my thoughts by an annoyingly familiar clink of something hitting the roof grabbed my attention. I quickly wrapped my sandwich back in its paper bag and placed it into my cardigans pocket. I turned my attention to the gutter, a small sharp stone that hadn’t been there before laid on top of some moss.

The murder realising what was going to happen fluttered away in a frenzy, cawing in disarray. Not wanting to be caught in the stupidity that laid below me in the church garden.

Preparing myself as best as I could, I looked around and caught sight of the gargoyle sitting perched slightly off from where I was positioned. If I miss this, well… I either die or break my legs.

The gargoyle itself had a monstrous face, baring fanged teeth and its wings spread out, poised to strike. another rock landed near my position. deciding to take the risk, I pushed myself slightly in the direction of the beast. landing with a small thud behind it, I let out a breath. Two more stones were thrown in my direction, the sound of them rolling onto the gutter caused me to flinch.

They were too close. One thing I could say is that the people below were getting better at their aim and way of throwing.

There was a slight warmth coming from the gargoyle, they were in hibernation. They would remove the stone shell around them late into the spring most likely. But they were still aware of what was happing around them. “sorry Mr gargoyle, I hope you can forgive me for using you as a shield…again,” I muttered as I sat behind it. it was hard to keep myself completely hidden. My height being the main reason. Why on this planet did I have to be one of the tallest people. Why? What reason was there for someone to be over six feet? What reason was there?

A couple more stones landed on the roof. I grumbled to myself and peaked over the wing, trying my best to be as careful as possible.

A rock soared over my head causing me to duck slightly. A small part of me was proud. That was the closest they’d gotten in a long time. After all this had been a weekly routine for a while now. A bit inconvenient when trying to eat. But at least it kept my somewhat self-preservation skills usable.

A small cackle came from down below. I rolled my eyes. If only they were as smart as their egos. Their rich snobbish attitudes had been like this for years.

“is poor goliath too scared to come down?” Jonathan yelled; the noise being muffled by the distance. “sorry! It’s not my fault I’m allergic to social interaction” I hollered back; I peeked back over the wing, slightly thankful for the small heat it gave off the cold winter air biting my exposed skin. Wearing knee length shorts in winter is not advised for a reason. That’s the joy of being a dysfunctional mess such as myself.

Anyways, as I peeked over the first thing, I could see was his obnoxiously blonde hair, it was almost three shades close to white. I would have easily called it fake if it wasn’t for the fact that I hadn’t grown up with him. the blonde hair was held in a ponytail today.

My eyes also caught sight of the two figures standing either side of Jonathan. Both recognisable by the way they looked. the ginger on his left was always known for her seemingly endless collection of silk blue dresses. Each one would have cost my family a year’s worth of food.

Then the boy on his right was a lavante, he had been one of the few to move here. His species are known for the fact their basically living lava, skin ossified by the oxygen. His eyes were pools of red lava. His hair was like living fire. the older they got, the bluer their hair became.

He looked a bit conflicted to what they were doing. He always did. We were mutual friends. He gave a weak smile and waved. To be honest I forgot his name years ago… too late to ask now.

“you’ll come down eventually!” blue dress screeched as she readied to throw a stone in her hand.

“you underestimate my pettiness, I've got food in my pocket, I could stay up here longer that you could down there!" I yelled back; my pettiness was something barely anyone was able to match.

Seeing her pull her arm back to throw, I ducked myself behind the wing one more time. soon one after another, a barrage of rocks was being thrown my way. one sailed over my head; I could feel the air move as it ruffled my hair. It rolled down and landed by my foot. I picked it up and threw it back as possible.

I looked down to my other pocket. reaching in I pulled out a bronze pocket watch. The lid had long since came off, according to my dad it was the day he met my mother. I chuckled to myself as I remembered the story.

 “what on earth do you think you’re doing?!” I sighed in relief as the voice of the father reached my ears; even if the malice in his voice sent small shivers down my spine.

Is wrath being something to fear. They could try anything they wanted. But as soon as the father got involved then they were very much screwed over.

I tuned out the shouting down below me, sitting in a better way that made my lanky legs sigh in relief. I looked into the gargoyles eyes and mouthed a quick thank you.

As the noise went silent, I looked over the wing to see them walking away out the garden and back to whence they came, a wave of ease flooded over me. At least I would be home in time. Hopefully.

I stood up, stretching and listening my bones crack as I did so. Clapping my hands together I turned around and climbed back onto the top of the roof struggling to get a grip as I did so. I shakily stood up, trying to balance myself in hopes I didn’t fall over.

I walked over to the edge of the building, I crouched down and grabbed the rope I had long ago tied to the building. holding on as tight as possible, knuckles going white in the process, I swung my body over the edge. The rope swayed from the motion. I wrapped my legs around the rope, hoping and praying I didn’t mess this up. taking a deep breath, I let slightly let loose of the rope. Gravity swiftly dragging me down, the rope slightly burning my skin in the process.

I quickly held onto the rope tighter as the ground came too close for comfort. it was that moment father Francis turned the corner. I gave a nervous chuckle as my body hung in the air. “what are you doing,” he groaned. “you know, just hanging around,” I responded, getting a smack on the back of the head causing me to spin slightly in the air.

Planting my feet firmly on the ground, I stood up and rubbed my hands on my shirt, getting rid of the small amounts of dust and mud that clung to them.

He began to walk away, waving for me to follow. I jogged to keep up as best as possible. He didn’t say much anymore. But he was one of the best people in my mind. before he had joined the church, he had been working in the north. He had been one of my inspirations growing up. the stories he told about dragons and monsters he had seen had filled m wonder and desire to see what was beyond here.

People would joke around that the reason he had grey hairs was because of me. I didn’t blame them really. “sorry about that father Francis… again…” I sighed as I averted my gaze. he let out a small chuckle and patted my back, “only a gentle giant like you could hie instead of bashing them in,” he gestured for me to begin moving, “only you goliath.” “why won’t you let that die?” I muttered. he let out another laugh. “I’ll walk you back to your home, make sure you dad knows that they were back again,” there were very few things that could make me shiver, but having my family know about this was one of them. “or, you don’t tell them?” he only gave a deadpanned look in response. I wasn’t getting out of it.

It withing a minuet we were out the garden and onto the streets. The greys and browns of the buildings seemingly blending together in the darkness. we walked in silence turning when needed. The sound of the canal getting closer. brass lamps were lined neatly on each side of the streets. Fireflies the size of a grown adult’s hand laid inside, buzzing away to one another. the people in their homes slowly turning of their lights in hopes of falling asleep. I’d never understood why it was always this time of night that they locked everything up. weather it was a habit or just a bizarre timing factor.

I reached up to my hair and pulled down the bobble keeping my hair up in a simple ponytail. My brown locks dropped down to my sides. I ran my hands through my hair grumbling. I stumbled for second after tripping on a rock. Barely stopping myself from tumbling over.

 The darker and closer we got to my home; the more noises filled the air. Small neon bugs lit up houses and other buildings. Small mice with glowing whiskers would scuttle past us as quickly as possible. The vibrant colours would almost leave a blur in their trail, making them easy to spot in the dark.

Small groups of night birds flocked around piles of litter left by merchants that had been wandering the streets. Nibbling or defending pieces of food, or guarding small shiny things they found on the ground. Like children defending their own things.

So much happened in the night, so much happened and I only get to see a portion of the neon lights, I wished I could have seen more sometimes.

Soon we were out of the main village turning town and making our way down a mud and stone covered path towards the farm.

 Soon enough, but not long enough to gather my thoughts and mentally prepare myself. we arrived at a metal gate surrounding what looked like a nearly collapsing house. I stepped forwards and opened the rusty gate, the hinges creaking with the movement. I had been needing to oil them for a while and had been putting it off for around two weeks now.

The house looked barely liveable. The roof looked both old and new in patches. the chimney looked cracked and ready to fall on the house. the porches roof looked close to caving in as well.

But sill it was home. I took a deep breath and made my way forward towards the door. Hoping with every fibre of my being they were all asleep by now for the sake of my sanity.

As I got closer, the porch light flickered before turning on completely and giving off a small hum. A small dread filling up. the light could only be turned on from the inside after all.

I quickly checked the time on the pocket watch. Oh… I was late. Not too late, but just enough that I was going to get chewed out at most.

The door swung open. A figure walked out and stood in the doorframe with an icy glare directed at me. “where have you been?” yeah, I wasn’t going to survive. the figure let out a sigh, “come in, you will have some explaining to do whilst Eric gets you both some tea.” “sorry for being late…again miles,” I chuckled as I rubbed the back of my neck.

He steppe bac and walked into the house. I let father Francis go in front of me as we made our way inside. I would have taken my shoes of if I had worn them today. I gave a small weak smile to Francis. If it were my dad that we had been greeted with he would have to only stay for five minutes. The twins on the other hand were another story… they had been like this for as long as I could remember. They had always been protective of me. I was sixteen. Yes, it was strange but the reason behind why they were so overprotective is a story for another time.

The entrance was small. Barely able to fit the three of us. Miles made his way up to the first couple steps on the staircase to give more room. I looked to the right; the lights were off witch was probably to save energy. I made my way into the left room. The fireplace warmed up the room, relaxing my body compared to the cold nipping air that was outside.

There was a figure identical to miles, the only difference being their hair partings. They had both their own unique skills, that was one other way to tell their differences.

The cardigan that I was wearing was knitted by Eric. It was at that moment I remembered what was in its pocket. I quickly reached down and pulled out a slightly squashed paper wrapped sandwich and sighed, putting it on the kitchen table that was one wrong move away from losing a leg.

The door at the back of the room shuttered. Looks like it was going to be a long night. the room was slightly crammed, but I didn’t mind that much.

Pulling out a chair and sitting down, I looked over to where the twins were arguing silently. miles had his parting on the left, the smaller part was cut off, it was the same for Eric except with his parting on the right. their hair was an inky black. they glanced over in my direction as I took a bite out of my crushed sandwich.

Red and green heterochromia. One eye green, the other a blood red.

“so, what are you two thinking about?” I said before taking another bite. “why we put up with your antics every day,” miles deadpanned at me. “you love me. That’s why,” I grinned as they sighed. “you’re ten minutes late Charlie, where have you been,” a voice forms the entrance. I looked up to see a scruffy looking man and grinned, “hey pops. And I think the pocket watch may be on the fritz again if that’s the case. It says I should be on time.” “either way, may I ask why the father is currently in our home? Again.”

“Jonathan and the other two again, I simply came to make sure she got home safely instead of running off.”

 They began to talk, leaving me to my own devices. The sandwich that had only one or two more bites worth lay on the table. A half-drunk cup of tea next to it.

Standing up and cracking by back, I made my way past the gossips and made my way to the living room. The light now on as dumbass one and two sat on the floor with cards.

Falling on the sofa backwards, the two who were absorbed in their game gave a little squeak and flung back. I let out a chuckle and stared at them with a curious look as the grumbled curses and words that would put sailors to shame.

“so, what has caused you to grace us with your company?” “if you were in the room with those two gossips, you would leave after a while too.”

Eric laughed and reached his hand over to the small wooden table in the middle of the room. “shift over goliath,” Eric muttered pushing me up. I swung my legs from the arm of the sofa and crossed my legs as I felt a pair of hands running down my hair before getting caught in a knot.

“I swear your hair is worse than ours on a good day,” he groaned before he began to brush my hair. “you do know I could do this on my own, right?” I said. “yeah, but it’s not like I’ve got much else to do in the first place.”

It was another fifteen minutes before I heard the noise in the kitchen slowly rise into the room. the three of us looked between one another with concern. They hadn’t fought before as far as we knew.

“she can’t know!” the voice I could clearly tell was my dad yelled. “she needs to know sooner or later, the sooner the better.”

I stood up from the sofa and slipped into the hall and peaked my head into the room. I could see my father’s face, eyebrows knitted together and eyes glaring at the father. His knuckled white from gripping the cup.

“look, I get why you don’t want to. But all your doing is speeding up the inevitable.” “I know… I’ll tell her soon. I promise.”

I walked into the room and locked gaze with my dad, “or you could tell me now instead of hiding it.”

“how much did you hear,” his face paled. “enough.”