#but i just killed a quarter sized spider that i almost stepped on with just socks on 😭😭😭

[sunflowerrboyy]

NEW RULE: DO NOT LEAVE WINDOWS OPEN NO MATTER HOW HOT IT GETS SPIDERS WILL COME INSIDE THE HOUSE

[ourlastbastion]

A spider made a web right on my window last night. The window my bed is beside. You can imagine the fright I had this morning waking up and seeing it right above me, kept away by fragile glass. It’s big like almost the size of a quarter, maybe a bit smaller, and ugly, yellowish color, fat back half, and black/yellow striped legs. Sometimes when I looked at the window it was there, sometimes it wasn’t.

I hate it.

But this is the second floor and I can’t just step outside and kill it. I can only hope a bird spots it and decides it’s a tasty treat before the bastard realizes it can get past my window.

[cleololax]

Lotto | A | Chapter One

MafiaBoss! UndergroundCriminal! Yoongi x Strugglingwaitress! Y/N

Word Count - 3,210

Yoongles has his silver hair in this one 👌🏼. Smut will be in future chapters. Enjoy !

The smell of grease and bacon has your brain pounding in your skull. A normally pleasant smell can get old after an 8-hour work shift, 5 days a week. Dave rings the bell once again and you zig-zag between the tables trying to get there, refilling empty coffee mugs and fetching missing condiments on the way. Another day, another measly dollar.

By noon, your feet need a rest and you need a break. The sneakers squeeze your feet so much it feels like they might bring you down a size permanently. Marla comes from the back, chewing that cheap gum that’s bought wholesale. You hand over the paper tab and fill her in before heading into the back room. Lunch is spent eating a stale sandwich with stale lettuce and softening tomatoes that can leave an unpleasant aftertaste. Mentally, there’s a reminder set to see what they have at the food pantry this week.

Hopefully, your brother ate his lunch. It’s not like he likes it anyways and you can't blame him for it. Anxious thoughts are interrupted when Mina opens the door in all of her cheerfulness.

“Y/N, someone is asking for you.” She must see your furrow brows cause she continues.

“Says he needs to see you, it’s been a while. Is he a bad ex? Should I get rid of him?” Her worry makes you inwardly smile and you head to the sink. “No, it’s ok. I’ll be right there.” She leaves with a nod. The smile drops the minute she does. What could he possibly want now? Something uneasy stirs in your stomach. It could be the food just devoured, but there is something more pressing at the moment. The dim hallway is empty and you carefully walk out, counting the black and white tiles. With your head held high, you walk towards the booths.

The blue hair peeks out from the top of the divider. He always sits in the left corner of the room, drinking a lemonade. Always at the same time. Always on time. You walk towards the table and sit down. Taehyung offers a small nod of his head in acknowledgment. Or at least that’s what he says his name is. The first time he had waltzed in, he turned heads. A beautiful man in a crisp Armani suit isn’t exactly discreet. You came out to greet him and asked if you knew each other when he uttered one word. Your father's name. From then on you knew whatever came of this interaction, it wasn’t going to be pleasant. That bastard had ruined your family and still, it's not enough. He continues to cause destruction, long after he’s been gone.

Taehyung's tan skin and blue hair are a striking match. Chocolate eyes study the way you clench your hands together on the table, steadying shaky fingers. Pretending to hold it all together.

“Hello, Y/N.” He asked for your name the first time and you refused to give it. Years of watching sketchy people walk in and out of your apartment teach you to be wary. By the next meeting, he had it on his tongue in greeting. Perhaps a show of how much they really knew and were able to find out what they wanted.

“I have a note for you from Mr. Min. It’s appropriate to now set up a formal meeting. Tonight.” The previous suspicion is proved correct. This elusive Min wants to meet and it has your heart sinking.

“I have my brother to pick up from school.” Demons may thrive and bath in the night, but the rest of us don’t have that luxury to choose.

“Sorry, but you’ll have to make arrangements. We could send one of our men to do it... if you want.” Absolutely fucking not. You may be bad at surviving, but stupid is not in your nature.

“I’ll work it out.” It's the first time you keep eye contact with him since he arrived. While he notices the sudden determination, you notice the prominent mole on his nose. He’s handsome in a catalog type of way. they must have to be, to make the jobs easier. His tan skin glows, even in the gloomy shadow that the grey skies cast into the room.

“There will be a car parked outside your residence to pick you up.” Being in a car with these people doesn’t seem like such a good idea, either. The next words are painful to say.

“It’s ok, I’ll walk.” He quirks a brow and looks sideways at the droplets sliding down the window.

“It’s going to be raining heavy tonight, though.” His deep voice fills you with dread. Especially because there is an underlying tone of sympathy in it. On cue, lightning roars from somewhere above the popcorn ceiling. Hopefully, it’s enough to distract him from the fidgeting.

He gets up to leave but not before looking down at your slumped form, trying to ignore how tired and pitiful you look. Deliver and leave. That’s the job as a messenger. All of the five times he has come here have made him wonder who you are. What put you in the sights of a man like his employer. You are young, but there is so much sadness already. Ironically, he knows how you must feel. Against his better judgment, he fixes his collar and is gone as quickly as he came. Don’t ask, don’t get involved with the debtors. It’s easier that way. All you can do is place your head on the table and zone out for a little. It’s the go-to self-care these days. Just to pretend that you don’t exist in this form in time, that you can blend in with the background and disappear. Not for the first time, you curse your luck, family ties. What have I been roped into?

When the sun sets, your legs are already carrying you down the street before Lina can change her mind. Thankfully, it isn’t pouring down yet. Closing the diner is normally your job and it is a dreaded task. Anything can happen in that timespan and it keeps the adrenaline constantly flowing. A girl alone in a diner with a cash register is a golden opportunity. It’s hard to feel like beyond the windows there aren’t eyes, waiting in dark street corners. After a couple of blocks, the old orange apartment building comes into view. At one time it must have been nicer and that's hard to picture. Mr. Shihan is playing cards with another older man on the sidewalk when you come up to the gate. Their concentration is fully on the game and he doesn’t give his normal greeting. He’s a sweet man with a terrible habit. The courtyard is empty. There are barks and kitchen sinks running, loud televisions that have no consideration. Unfortunately, there are no stairs and after long days, it’s hard not to just want to sit down on the dirty, concrete floor and fall asleep. Before you reach the 5th floor, you wait at the entrance to the hall on the 4th. It’s taken time for you to stop caring what others think of your situation, the disapproving comments, and glances from the teachers at your brother's school and almost anywhere you go. Too young, give him up to the state. Can’t take care of him, look how skinny he is, look how tired. People who look from the outside and have the luxury to judge. You are old enough to take care of him and he belongs with you. You’re the only family you two have left.

It’s only when you need help that it kills you to see Mrs. Litska. She’s an old woman who was able to babysit your brother while you are at work. With one knock, the door opens and you are met with a frown on her crinkled face. You don’t have time to say much, you just give her the envelope of this month’s pay and step inside. Your brother is asleep on the brightly foiled couch in the dim living room that smells of baked bread. The sound of Vivaldi comes through the ancient radio on the side table. His little fingers hold tightly onto the Spider-Man plushie picked out at the thrift store a while ago. It’s seen better days, but they are insuperable. Placing the stuffed item to the side, one arm loops around his shoulders to him up to place his head on your shoulder. The kid could sleep through anything.

The both of you head upstairs into your own living quarters. The lights don’t turn on when the flip is switched and you sigh as you try your best to remain close to the wall.it proves to be hard with your body ready to give out, but you ultimately make it to the room and place your brother into the squeaky bed. The candles are pulled from the drawer and each one settles into every corner of the space nicely.

Finally, you take off your partially wet clothes and put them into a pile by the tub. At least the water is warm as your body slowly leans down into it. Suddenly, the room is quiet and it’s hard to let yourself float away. It’s eerie and not comforting at all. It never is. There is no next destination besides a dreaded one, no way to work yourself towards, hanging on through the blissfully hard distractions that take up your life. They allow you to not stop, to not think about where you could be. Staying busy saves you from reaching into yourself too much.

Minutes tick by, a full half-hour before your skin is soggy and the water is cold. Still, it's better to be here than think that in another hour you could be trafficked and the little boy in the other room sleeping peacefully would have no one left. Mother dead, father gone, sister missing. It brings a chill to the room and it’s suffocating. Once you’re dressed casually, you check in on your brother who is still tucked in, his breathing mellowed out. Here’s to hoping he stays asleep and doesn’t wander through the place at three in the morning to an empty apartment. You kiss his forehead and bring his plushies within reach. They crowd the space around him, cocooning him in.

With one last safety check and blowing out the candles, you lock the door from the outside and move along the hallway down to the stairs.

Your neighborhood is wet and dark at this hour. Thankfully, you are prepared with a switchblade and pepper spray bought last week. It’s three blocks to the main streets where more people walk with umbrellas. Men in suits getting home and families hurrying to their cars. The shop lights flash, shop windows showcasing fried chicken and ice cream. Your stomach automatically grumbles.

Your umbrella holds up for the most part until the lights start to separate and the streets once again turn dim and dirty. The sudden gusts of wind fold it in and it snaps. Soda cans and bags of junk food litter the edges of cement. Shops on this side are all closed, bars and steel curtains drawn. Every little sound has the back of your neck standing up. A tabby cat pops up from under a beat-up truck and it has your heart momentarily stop. Hopefully, it’s around the corner. Your hands shakily open the worn piece of paper to try and locate the street. Luckily, it’s one street down. Once you turn the corner, you head right into a narrow alley. The pepper spray is held onto tightly with clammy hands.

The situation is starting to look sketchier as you go on. Once you reach the dead end, something to the left catches your peripheral vision. Off to the side is another narrow path, much shorter than the one you just went through. It leads directly to a steel door with a neon sign right above. The letters that read Welcome bathe the entrance in blue and red. When you come closer, you notice a little plant to the side. As if it can hide the strangeness of it all when all it does is highlight. Still, the harshness of the surroundings doesn't reach this corner. For a while, you stand there as the rain continues to patter. The sign buzzes and flickers. Your clothes get more soaked but you refuse to move forward. I’m a bad bitch, I’m a bad bitch. I got this. There is vibration coming from the floor beneath your feet. The door opens and a big muscular man gestures for you to come in. This is how it starts. A cliche buff bouncer opening the rope to the gates of hell. He stares and steps aside, gesturing again. Maybe you could have made a run for it before he appeared. Not now. It would be useless. They will come looking. These people always collect. You’ve seen it before. Ultimately, the decision has been made by someone else. There's more to lose if you don't and with a tug of your bag, you trudge forward.

What you had been imagining this past week was apparently absurd compared to the vision that lay in front of you now. There was no blood, no people begging for you to help them escape. No blindfold, just plenty of men and women holding down handles at the slot machines that showed them all the wrong symbols. You walked through the desperation into another area of green felt tables and cards being dealt. The air is stuffy and it smells of smoke and alcohol. Apparently, no one else is bothered. Ahead of you, a tall man is pressing on something in his ear with a meaty hand. Darting your eyes around, you take in more. Before confusion settles in on where to go you find the answer. From the second floor, Taehyung holds onto the railing, looking around. Your eyes meet and it’s strangely intimate. Too intimate. It must not be hard to be found when your clothes are wetting the floor beneath you.

He walks towards you with a small smile. His cobalt blue suit stands out and there’s a dangly earring hanging from one ear. His appearance is much flashier than it was the last time you saw him. With one look behind you, he leads you both up the stairs. On the way, you internally chide yourself for wearing what you are now. The wet clothes make you feel like a little sewer rat. You feel like ratatouille and the confidence that brought you here is dwindling. Instead of a shoddy warehouse that was expected, you are venturing deeper into a maze of halls with red carpeting and gold-rimmed mirrors. Eyes remain forward, but your mind tries to remember every sharp turn, every step that takes you further away from an exit. It is not hard to conjure up terrible, gruesome images and they flash a mile a second. There is only silence and you do not expect anything else. Finally, Taehyung comes to a halt and you almost bump into his back. The door is red and for some reason, it hits you know what big of a mistake you have made. You feel like you’ve been personally delivered to hell’s gates. No one knows where you went tonight. They could get rid of your body and no one would look. It would be easy. Just a poor, young person who could have been tossed or thrown into the river. Another cold case, another victim. He knocks on the door in a pattern of sound and pauses. Must be a code of some sort. Loud noises and laughter get closer until the door opens abruptly and an older gentleman with peppered gray hair greets the man next to you.

“Tae, my boy. Yoongi was about to cheat again.” Tae? Yoongi? This stranger’s excitement has you even more on edge. Your palms are now sore from clenching and cutting at them with overgrown nails. Taehyung moves forward and he smiles as an arm is put around his shoulder. There’s conversation but you don’t hear any of it. Somehow you get yourself inside the room and the door shuts right after. There’s even more smoke and laughter and a champagne bottle being popped somewhere. It all whizzes by. On the outside, your face must seem neutral but the inside is ringing with alarms and warnings. It feels like there’s a hole in the pit of your stomach. Somewhere along the way, the older gentleman named Lee went off to talk to some people on a chase couch against the wall.

There is a long gambling table at the end of this well-sized room and it seems to be the destination. When you get closer, there are about eight people around it. Mostly men with frowns. It must be the small number of chips in front of them. That doesn’t matter a second later though. Not when you catch the sight of the man sitting at the head of it. There’s a force that seems to be pulling everything in space to him, everybody. Bluish Silver hair catches the lighting of the small chandelier above as he gets up with a flute in between pale hands. His fingers grab a couple of chips from his pile which is no doubt the biggest of them all. They twirl in his ring-clad fingers. The veins line them and it’s hard to not stare. The robe that hangs off his lean figure looks decadent and expensive, so much so that it would stop the question of why he is wearing it entirely. There’s so much to take in. His face is gorgeous. His gummy smile numbs the feeling of panic that set in before. He gets closer, or perhaps you do. The two of you walk up to him. Realization dawns in then. Fuck My life.

“Mr.Min, this is miss Y/N.”

[spideymarvelws]

one true love.

Dark!Peter Parker x Dark!GN!Reader

Main Masterlist

Summary : Peter will go threw everything to keep you safe, protected and most importantly always his. He saw you as the person he observed and watched for the past few months, the sweet, kind girl that stopped to pet stray dogs or smiled at everyone who needed it. But somethings he never took notice of, some things that would’ve made him love you even more.

Warnings : THIS IS A DARK FIC! I am not responsible for your media consumption but if any of these topics or just dark fics on a whole trigger you please do not read! cursing, murders, blood, violence, mention of sexual assault, death, stalking, graphic description of a dead body, homicide, fluffy if you squint, use of guns and knifes.

A/n : If any description throughout the one shot does not pertain to a gender neutral reader please let me know :-) also if i missed anything in the warnings.

Word Count : 1.8k

...

The definition of love is something that never stays constant as its experienced from person to person. Even to that very being, the meaning changes every year, month, day even hour, from what that individual may feel in that moment. In some cases, it may be the most beautiful thing that’s ever happened to someone, changing there life in ways they could never even imagine. 

In other cases, it could break a person whole, bit by bit, tearing down at who they once were. Emotions like guilt and regret, jealously and remorse running through there veins, thinking that love is only made to destroy the ones foolish enough to believe it exists.

Then you have the rare case of love at first sight.

Now, some may argue that this concept that only seems to show up in movies and TV shows is complete bullshit, that it doesn’t exist.

“You can’t look at someone and automatically know they’re the one for you,” Ned said to him one day, pulling his head out of his chemistry book,“What if they’re an awful person? What if they do something constantly that you don’t like? Seriously, looking at someone and knowing there the one is just basing It of there’s looks or something,”

Peter didn’t respond, afraid that he might lash out at the only friend he’s managed to keep throughout the years. He thought about the last statement a lot, wondering if all he ever really felt was the physical attraction.

But no, that pull you feel when you look at someone for the fist time, watching there movements with whatever tasks they’re doing at the moment, even if it’s nothing at all. Falling entranced with there every gesture, taking in every curve and colour, memorising every feature.

It wasn’t just looking at their appearance, it was taking note of how they moved, how they acted, how they laughed, god there laugh is like music to your ears. It was watching and observing, that’s what Ned missed in his little speech.

Then of course you have the people who don’t believe in love, which was something he could understand.

Before he saw you.

For Peter, love was not a strong enough word to describe what he felt for his one true love. The way you made his heart stop with one smile, his face red with one touch, his hands sweat with one word. In your eyes, he found his entire world.

And he destined for you to be his.

The countess nights he spent dreaming of you, laying besides him. He longed to touch you, to feel your skin against his, to mark you with his love. He shocked himself with the self control he had to maintain around you especially when it came to the people you hung out with.

The amount of times he wanted to run out of hiding and crack the skull of some idiot who decided to talk to you or dare even look at you in any suggestive matter. The thought make him gag every time, but he’d like to think that you already knew that he was looking over you, that you belonged to him. That’s why you never took any of them on, that’s why you turned them down.

He couldn’t blame them for trying, but they had no chance since they would be gone the next day.

Which is why he hoped you could forgive him for what he did, for what he had to do.

The body laid in the back seat, wrapped tightly in a bag. There was no blood spilled, sadly, only the indents of his hands on the base of his neck. 

It was fun, watching the life drain from his eyes as he listed off every bad thing he’s ever done, mainly to you, but he threw in a few more ex’s just to spice things up a bit more. Maybe he shouldn’t have killed him, maybe he should’ve just let him walk free with the threats he shoved down his throat.

But then he had to call you a bitch, from that point he knew his life would just be a waste of oxygen.

Peter let out a chuckle at the memory, at the fake confidence he showed, struggling in his hold. It truly was a sight to behold, one that made his realise why he enjoyed being Spiderman so much. 

Seeing people suffer for there terrible mistakes and knowing that he had the power to punish them.

The drive was long and quiet, one of his hands was on top the steering wheel, tapping to an imaginary beat while the other settled on the arm rest. The streets were rather empty at this hour to Peter’s surprise, making him smirk that he would get away with the murder.

Maybe he could’ve stolen a better car.

But he was doing everyone a favour and he was keeping you safe.

He took a right into a dense forest, his car moving with with the bumps on the course road. When he felt like he was deep enough down the path, he hit the breaks, cringing at the squeaking noise it made.

Regardless, the exited the vehicle, opening the trunk to grab a shovel. He knew that there were a number of more efficient ways to get rid of the body, one that could’ve used his position in the avengers to his advantage, but his old techniques started to grow repetitive. 

It didn’t take him as long as he thought though, the hole he dug was around eight feet deep and hopefully the right size to fit the body. Dropping the shovel to the floor, he walked back to the car not to worried about his surroundings knowing that no one ever visited this part of the forest. 

He grabbed the body from the back seat, throwing it over his shoulder carrying it to the hole and tossing it inside without care. He smiled at the bag as he filled the hole a quarter of the way.

“Time to find an animal now shall we?” He whispered to himself, pulling out the hunters knife from the back of his pants along with a flash light, “Just incase,”

As he walked threw the trees and bushes, keeping look out for any movements he heard a gun shot cut threw the air. He gripped his knife, walking carefully towards the noise. 

Oh how he was sorry for the poor lad that decided to be here this night, but he had too do what had to be done.

Suddenly he was sent back by a force jumping on his back. He fell to the floor with a thud, his body forcefully turned over with a gun pointed directly between his eyes.

“Y/n?” He froze, his breath becoming heavier at how close your face was to his. Now he understood why his spider senses didn’t alert him, because you weren’t a threat to him, you could never be.

“Peter,” you whispered, lowering your gun, scrambling off of his body much to his dismay, “What are you doing here?”

“What are you doing here?” He asked back, still shocked at you proximity to him, talking with him, breathing the same air as him.

“You answer first,” you said quickly.

“No you,” Peter said back, crossing his arms.

“I-,” you started, but looked down, trying to hide your bashfulness, but it only drew attention to the blood dripping from your hair.

“Baby,” Peter whispered, walking up to you to grab your face, any sense of self control left his body after seeing the state you were in, “What happened,”

Peter thought it was some attack on you and judging by the amount of blood covering your skin, you had to defend yourself. He expected you to look up with the innocent eyes he’s studied for so long, finally getting a chance to get a closer look.

But instead, you raised your head with a sinister smile gracing your feature, you stepped out of his embrace, taking his hand in yours.

“Let me show you,” you whispered, in an almost sultry voice sending shivers down his spine.

You pulled him to a tree, taking the flashlight held in his fingers and pointed the light to the base of the trunk. Peter stared confused at the sight, walking forward slightly to inspect the slumped body. It was tied down tightly with rope around the waist and mouth, cutting threw the skin deeply showing signs of struggle. There was multiple stab wounds in the stomach, words carved in there legs that he couldn’t make out with the dirt and blood covering them. He did however notice his name on her forehead and the bullet wound in the middle. 

The streaks of blond in the hair falling in front of the face told him that this body belonged to Gwen Stacy.

“When she started talking to you I could see how uncomfortable she made you,” you started, looking to the floor while playing with the dirt with the sole of your shoe, “I- I didn’t like how close she got to you, and- and since she bothered you too I- I thought we were doing us both a favour,”

Peter stood back up, looking back at you. He wondered how somebody so insane could hide it so well. Even with the evidence painted over you, he still saw you as incapable of ever doing anything like this.

The thought made him laugh loudly, walking up to you and grabbing your face.

“I fucking love you,” he laughed more, making you smile brightly as he put his forehead against yours, “You’re perfect I swear,”

You laughed along with him, putting away your gun in your pack pocket, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“I’ve- I’ve so long for this,” you giggled, pressing your nose into his neck, basking in his sick scent, “But, what are you doing here?”

Peter giggled as well, pressing a quick kiss to your lips, “Same reason at you my love,”

Your eyes widened, you placed your hand on his cheek, bringing his lips back into yours. It was longer and sloppier than the first, both of you getting use to the movements but also desperate for the feeling.

Peter backed you up against another tree, pressing his body against yours, his deluded mind not reregistering how fucked up the situation was, but he loved every second. His lips moved down to your neck, sucking and bitting at the skin, drawing out delicious moans from your mouth.

“Fuck,” you sputtered, biting your lip and tangling your fingers in his hair, both of you not paying mind to the blood, sweat and dirt, “I’ve- I’ve wanted this for so long Peter,”

“Me too baby,” he said, tightening his hold on your waist, “Me too, now how about we hide these bodies together hmm?” He tickled your sides lightly, grinning at the giggle you let out, “Then I’m gonna take you home and make up for lost time,”

...

--->Interested in more? check out my other Dark!Peter fic<---

Hearts, reblogs and comments always appreciated 🥰

Taglist: @jadegill​ @joyleenl​ @ietss

[greekgeek21]

Percy Jackson & The Avengers: Convergence - there is a fight scene included

I am not dead, just extremely busy. My summer lacrosse season just ended, so hopefully I get some inspiration to write some new chapters. In the meantime, I hope this will tide you over for some time.

Keep in mind, this was written weeks ago, so I am not in the mood to answer any weirdly specific questions about my artistic choices. In other words, if you don't like it, you don't have to read it! I know, it's a truly monumental realization.

For my kind & loyal readers, don't forget to comment, like, and follow!

- your author

DISCLAIMER: I don't own the Avengers or PJO!

Ω ♆ Ω

By the grace of the gods, the group managed to pass the sirens without an issue. It seemed like the mortals had finally accepted that it was in their best interest to listen to the Seven. So, as soon as Percy warned everyone to fill their ears with wax, they filled their ears with wax. Of course there were a few complaints, but that was expected. Nobody was perfect (no matter what Narcissus insists).

From there on out, the nerves were building. Percy had informed the team that their next stop would be Polyphemus' island, and everybody, mortal and demigod alike, knew what that place was. It was where the most infamous cyclops lived, but most importantly, it was where Annabeth was being held, if Percy's father was to be trusted.

Since it would still be another two hours or so, according to the sea expert, until they reached the island, the group decided to try resting. Some tried to nap, while others sharpened their weapons or hung out on the deck. It was futile, but they were trying to prepare themselves for a situation that they had never before encountered, not even Percy.

It was safe to say that everyone was scared shitless.

Ω ♆ Ω

Leo had decided to go downstairs and tinker with some stuff from his belt as a distraction from their impending doom. It was working too! He was in his own little world that only machines could enter. That is, until Tony Stark walked up to him.

"Whatcha doing, kid?" he asked, peering over Leo's shoulder to catch a glimpse at the boy's creation.

"I'm making a mini automaton to help us find Annabeth when we get to the island," was the answer.

Taking a closer look, Tony started to see it. It was a very small machine, but if you looked closely, it was clear that it was made of metal. The automaton was about the size of a quarter, and looked like a celestial bronze spider. Leo was currently adding the last two legs to it when Tony walked up.

When Leo looked up, he held up his creation with a proud smile. "This baby can be our spy. It's eyes are tiny cameras, and it's made almost completely of celestial bronze. We can send this in, and then know where Annabeth is before we storm the place."

Tony nodded, "Yeah... Pretty good idea, kid."

And ok, so Leo was freaking out a little bit on the inside because one of his idols had just complimented his work. But on the outside, he just smiled a little wider.

"You haven't even seen the best part. You've gotta see it after I turn it on. I added stealth-mode so nobody should even be able to know it's there," Leo said, grabbing the spider and flipping it over to press a button.

As soon as he had, the spider flipped itself over in his hand and started crawling up his arm. Tony was a little creeped out, but it was blocked by the fascination for this new kind of science the demigods had. The spider should have to be controlled by a human, but it was moving like it was almost...thinking on its own. There was no way it had an AI, but that was the only solution his mortal brain could come up with.

"Is it an AI?" he asked.

"Nope. It's a greek automaton. They don't need AIs. I programmed it to listen to a few simple commands when needed, but if we don't order it around, it'll just stick around me waiting for orders. Pretty cool, right?"

"Awesome," Tony whispered, in awe of how smart this seventeen year old kid was.

"Thanks. I think I finished it just in time because I heard Percy calling us back upstairs," Leo said. Before he had even finished he was walking towards the deck, not a care in the world for the metal spider crawling around on him.

"Oh, I'm definitely becoming friends with this kid," Tony muttered to himself before following Leo.

Ω ♆ Ω

"Did you get it done, Leo?" Percy asked as soon as he had seen him.

"Yep. Here it is." Leo held up the automaton-spider.

Percy smirked. "Oh, Annabeth's gonna love that."

Leo shrugged, acting clueless. "I have no idea what you're talking about. The spider was just the first thing I could come up with."

"Sure it was," Piper snorted.

Leo fake-gasped. "Beauty Queen! How could you ever think I would lie?! I would never!"

Clint whispered to Natasha, "The kids clearly have a strong bond that only comes from fighting for their lives with each other."

Frank turned to them, surprising the spies that he had heard them, "No shit, Sherlock."

Before anything else could be said, Percy reclaimed the entire group's attention. "If you look to the right, you can see Polyphemus' island. We're going to dock on the south side of the island because that is the only way to get on without climbing a cliff and facing carnivorous sheep. Hazel should be able to disguise the ship until we invade the base, so don't worry about being seen. Leo will send in his spider to check things out and then we'll follow after we know where Annabeth is. Everybody got that?"

At the noises of affirmation, Percy nodded. "Good. Suit up if you're not already."

Of course, Tony had to break the calm solemnity by saying, "Cap, I thought that was your line?"

Everybody collectively rolled their eyes.

Ω ♆ Ω

After they docked, Leo released his spider with specific orders to find Annabeth Chase while staying hidden. That was working until Polyphemus' stupid super-senses could smell the celestial bronze. Leo hadn't known that a blind cyclops would be able to smell metal, but you learn something new everyday, right?

The spider lasted all of five minutes in the cave before Polyphemus smelled it and crushed it under his giant smelly foot. Percy had thought that the cyclops would take longer to reform, but when had he ever been that lucky? Something that completely baffled him was how the mortals got him to not eat them. The dude had been pretty desperate for food the last time Percy had run into him, so how had the weird boss guy gotten him to hold off?

The only thing he could think of for them to feed him would be...nope! He's not going there right now.

The last thing the spider had transmitted to the group was a picture of a mortal holding a gun to Annabeth's head while she was gagged and chained. It made his blood boil.

"I'm going to kill them," He growled, starting to get off the boat and storm the place.

Jason stepped in front of him before he could, "Easy, Perce. You don't know what you're walking into. They want you to go in half-cocked, so we can't give them that. You know Annabeth can handle herself, so just take a breath and we'll figure out a plan."

Percy took a shaky breath, but it did nothing to cool his anger.

"Jace, if you don't step out of my way in the next two seconds, I will be forced to move you, and trust me, you don't want me to do that."

The son of Jupiter stood his ground, "I'm not moving. I know you Percy. Hurting me would go against your fatal flaw. I'm your best friend; your family. I know you would never intentionally hurt me."

Jason glanced over at the rest of the group, who hadn't dared to move if it upset Percy even more. The guy was a ticking time bomb, and they needed to defuse it before it went off and destroyed any chance of getting Annabeth back safely.

Percy almost looked in pain as he spoke his next words, "Jason, I love you. You're my cousin, but Annabeth is my everything. I will hurt you to get to her."

Jason sighed, expecting that answer. "Then at least let us come with you on your suicide mission. I'm not letting you die without me."

"Fine, but hurry up. I'm leaving now," and Percy shoved past Jason and started the trek up to Polyphemus' cave.

Jason turned to the others, who were all staring after Percy with shocked expressions. "Well you heard him! Move your asses!"

That seemed to startle them awake. Everyone but Bruce started moving.

Ω ♆ Ω

By the time the team had been able to catch up to Percy's fast pace, he had already reached the nearest entrance to the cave. It was a dark, narrow path that had walls of rock on either side reaching up for hundreds of feet.

"This is the part in the horror movies where I start screaming at the tv to not go in there and they still go in there," Piper whispered.

They were all just staring at the darkness, and it was getting awkward. For someone who was so hasty to get to Annabeth, Percy was sure taking a long time to get there.

"Are we gonna go in or..." Tony said.

Percy sighed. "Yeah. We're going in. Just don't separate from the group."

He led the way into the cave with Steve right behind him. Percy appreciated having someone else who could take some of the responsibility off his shoulders. Almost his entire time in the godly world, he had been expected to be the leader because of his father, and he had stepped up, but that doesn't mean it didn't weigh on him. Annabeth was the only one who had been able to help him with the stress, and without her, he was losing it. He had already been barely hanging onto his control over his powers, but now without her, what he was doing could barely be called control. It was more like holding back a rampaging bull with a string.

Ten minutes later, they found themselves hiding behind the wall that led to the room where the gang was waiting. Just as the spider had shown them, Annabeth was kneeling under the gang leader's feet while he held a gun to her head.

She looked murderous, so at least something was still normal in the world.

Steve poked his head around and gave a quick scan of the room before turning back to them, "Ok so we've got at least ten humans, with five monsters. One of the monsters is as tall as a building so I think he's the largest threat. Tony, Clint, Nat, and I will deal with the humans if you guys handle the monsters. The main priority is getting Annabeth to safety. Percy, that's your job."

Saying that last bit was just to clarify for everyone else, though they looked like they didn't need to hear it. Percy had a determined look on his face, one that said he wasn't going to allow anyone else to have his assignment.

"You got it, boss," Tony remarked. "Do you just want to storm in there?"

Before he could get an answer, Percy charged into the room, leaving his friends entirely unshocked, but the Avengers were looking a little mad.

"Don't worry, plans aren't really his thing. Even if we do make them, they never go our way. It's better to go with the flow when fighting with Percy," Hazel reassured, and then turned to follow her godly cousin. The rest of the Seven followed, leaving the Avengers to just stare at each other in confusion.

"I like their style," Tony said before flying into the room.

Natasha sighed. "I'm really starting to regret meeting these kids."

Clint smirked at her before leaving, closely followed by Steve and the Black Widow herself. For all three of them, everything about this mission was against their nature, but there wasn't much they could do about it. They were in unknown territory with a group of newly-allied teens and no backup. It was a shitshow before they had even left.

Ω ♆ Ω

Frank was fighting a dracaena, and it was making it super annoying. The thing would not stop talking about grocery stores. It was quite distracting when trying to kill it.

"Seriously! Can you believe how nobody can see how bad those chains are?!" it exclaimed.

Frank sighed, ready for it to be over. Whenever he would try to stab it, it would just slither away right at the last second, all the while continuing to complain.

He decided to use his shapeshifting abilities to catch the thing off-guard. In reality, he could probably deal with it in seconds, but when he really used his inner son of Mars, it drained him. He needed to save his strength if he was going to fight Polyphemus.

Speaking of, so far, the cyclops had stayed out of the fighting. He was just sitting on his throne made of rock, picking at his teeth with what Frank really hoped wasn't a human bone.

Frank changed into a squirrel for a second, climbing up onto the back of the dracaena with the animal's speed and before the monster could react, he changed back into a human and stabbed it through the back with his spear.

"Huh. I guess you can shut up," he remarked as the monster turned into dust.

After, Frank turned to help Hazel take down an empousa. She had already defeated four before that, so it was a pretty easy fight. He had been keeping an eye on her throughout his fight. Sure, he trusted she could take care of herself, but it was also his job to watch her back.

"Thanks," Hazel told him with a quick peck on the cheek after they finished.

Believe it or not, that kiss on the cheek was a major improvement. It had been a real adjustment for Hazel to learn how couples expressed affection nowadays, and it had taken even longer to start showing it herself. It helped that Frank preferred words over touch, too.

"No problem."

Ω ♆ Ω

"Get some, térata!" Leo screamed, running up to the manticore and sending giant, continuous blasts of fire at it.

He had heard of Dr. Thorn from Nico, Percy, and Annabeth before, and had somehow retained the knowledge that it was extremely durable on the outside. That meant that he had to think smart in order to beat it.

So far, Leo was distracting it and holding it off with his fire while he thought of a plan. However, he could only hold it off for so long. He would eventually tire out.

Come on, Leo, THINK!

Then it hit him.

It was so simple! He had been told the story of how the Nemean lion was defeated at Camp. Now usually, he would totally ignore any schooling he was given, but the stuff they were taught at Camp was much more interesting than algebra. So yeah, he remembered some stuff.

So, he decided that his best shot at beating Dr. Thorn was landing a large enough hit inside of him. That meant he had to figure out a way to get him to open his mouth. That wasn't really the hard part, though. The hard part was figuring out how to not die when he had to get closer to the monster.

"Estoy jodido..." he muttered before taking a step forward, never once stopping his assault on the beast.

The Manticore didn't seem to be moving back from the intensity, but rather reveling in the fact that he hadn't gained one burn from the fight. He was just waiting out Leo.

That was not a fun revelation for the son of Hephaestus to have.

And that was when the thorns started attacking him. He should've been expecting it, really. The guy had a tail of poisonous thorns and he hadn't used it yet? Something should've registered in his mind. But that was past-Leo's mistake. Present-Leo had to deal with the super tall, scary, poisonous, and royally pissed-off greek monster in front of him.

Dr. Thorn let out a war cry and swung his tail around, releasing a line of spikes at Leo, who managed to just barely duck out of the way. He was not keen on becoming swiss cheese!

"Ok. It's time to end this." Leo sighed in annoyance, jumping back up and charging.

He swung his battle hammer up and lit it on fire, deciding that he might as well stick with the common theme of stupid ideas. He managed to keep dodging attacks all the way up until he was within ten feet of the manticore. Then, he threw his weapon at the monster, praying to Apollo for good aim. He had fixed the sun chariot plenty of times, so the god had to owe him at least one favor.

Once again, Leo's stupid demigod luck kicked in and the hammer somehow embedded itself in the monster's mouth, which had been opened in a prideful roar. Honestly, the son of Hephaestus didn't know HOW he did it, just that it worked.

With the distraction of having a flaming hammer in his mouth, Dr. Thorn didn't see Leo running up with his arms raised and prepared to fire. By the time he did, it was too late because long blasts of fire were flying straight towards his open mouth.

The monster was able to mutter a silent curse before he disintegrated into dust, once again sent to Tartarus.

"Take that, bitch."

Ω ♆ Ω

Piper was absolutely sure the Fates were laughing at her. They had to be. There was no way that she just happened to be stuck with the two empousa. It didn't help that Jason was struggling to not drool over the girls. She just had to keep chanting in her head that the monsters were using their charm powers on him, and he was not actually attracted to the disgusting things.

After the two monsters tried to both swipe at her at the same time, she growled and shouted, "Jason! Get your head in the game and come help me!"

He had been blinking and shaking his head for the past two minutes and it was getting quite frustrating to have these donkey-cyborg-vampires ganging up on her with no back-up. Once this was over, she was going to make Jason work to get back in her good graces.

With just a little bit of her charmspeak added into her order, Jason was finally able to break free from the empousai's spell. He quickly willed his gladius to be a javelin and launched it through one of the monsters, which made it explode into a shower of golden dust. A traitorous part of Piper's brain insisted on calling that move hot, but she was able to school her expression back into a scowl before her boyfriend could notice.

The other empousa let out a shriek and said, "You MONSTERS! That was my sister! I'll make you pay for that!"

They only had a second to appreciate the irony before she launched herself at them with even more fervor than before, fueled by the rage of losing her "sister."

Jason couldn't help but notice how she was wearing a cheerleading costume. It was very ripped and destroyed, but it was clearly a cheerleading uniform. And as he was deflecting her claws, the ADHD part of his brain realized that the logo on the uniform was for Goode High School, Percy's old school. He almost wanted to laugh when he remembered the story of Kelli, an empousa acting as a cheerleader during Percy's freshman orientation. Percy had always said the monster had a nasty habit of coming back quickly, but Jason had just thought it was an exaggeration. But no, he and Piper were really fighting Kelli, one of Percy's recurring monsters.

It would be hilarious later, truly. But for now, he had to actually kill the thing.

Kelli had backed off when she realized that attacking out of rage wasn't going to work against two experienced demigods, and that also gave Jason and Piper a chance to make a plan themselves.

"Got any ideas?" he asked Piper.

She grinned with a terrifying amount of murderous glee. "I thought you'd never ask."

And then she told him her plan, which was essentially just using him as bait while she got to do all the killing. The prideful Roman part of him wanted to insist on him killing it, but he managed to reign that in when he saw the look on Piper's face. She was not asking, she was telling. Who was he to say no, especially after he hadn't been able to fully resist the empousai's charm?

A scary thought told him he was turning into Percy. He brushed that off for later nightmares.

"Come get me, bloodsucker!" He shouted, raising his arms up in a taunting manner. If he was acting like Percy, might as well go all the way right?

With yet another shriek, Kelli stormed at Jason, completely disregarding the daughter of Aphrodite that was stepping back and preparing to literally stab the monster in the back with her dagger.

Sometimes Jason wonders how a creature could be so stupid. Their plan was so obvious!

It went off without a hitch, technically. Piper let the empousa get a little too close for comfort before she killed it, but he trusted her to get the job done and she came through. Kelli had been prepped and ready to bite into his neck right before she exploded into dust.

It was one Hades of a trust exercise, that's for sure.

"Please don't let it get that close next time, Pipes," he breathed out while he put away Juno's Gladius.

Piper gave him a quick peck on the lips, "Not a chance, Superman."

Ω ♆ Ω

Considering the circumstances, the Avengers weren't doing half-bad. They were actually fairing pretty well. They knew how to deal with humans, so their job wasn't that hard. The only difficulty was that there were four of them and ten of the bad guys. They were sorely outnumbered.

Currently, Steve was fighting two at once, with a third opponent already knocked out a few feet away. He was blocking one with his shield while punching the other in the face. He then switched roles, instead kicking the first attacker and driving his shield into the gut of the second. The one he gutted gasped and fell to the ground, and was knocked unconscious was a simple hit to the temple. While he was distracted with taking down his partner, the still-conscious bad guy recovered from the kick and was able to land a hit to the back of Steve's head. Clearly, the fighter had been prepared to have achieved some form of disorientation from the Captain, but all he got was a pissed-off Avenger.

"That tickled."

It took less than five seconds for Steve to take him down after that.

Natasha also started with three adversaries. Key word being 'started.' It had taken barely any time to take down the first two. And all she had to do for the third was a scissor kick and hold until he passed out. She had just finished doing that when a call from Clint got her attention.

"Nat!" he shouted.

She turned on instinct and threw a throwing knife at the person running up behind her straight into their chest. They stopped with shocked features before falling to the ground in a heap, dead weight pushing the knife even further in and no doubt killing them faster.

"Getting rusty, Clint?" she teased, throwing a look over at her friend.

"No," he defended. "I'm just making sure you're not getting rusty!"

The archer hadn't realised one of his two attackers had sneaked off to go after the "bigger threat." He would never let Nat know he thought she was the bigger threat, though. That would be fueling an ego he knew was somewhere deep down in her.

Tony had been given two people to fight as well, and he was doing pretty well. He had the obvious advantage of being in the air, so all the gang members he was fighting could do was try to shoot at him with their guns, and his armor was designed to withstand a nuclear bomb. Bullets weren't gonna do much damage.

"Guys, seriously, we should just talk this out. We both KNOW I'm going to be knocking you both out in five seconds, so why don't you surrender instead? It'll be so much easier for the both of us!" he said, raising his hands and readying his repulsors.

As expected, the bad guys didn't show any sign of slowing down their useless attack on him. With a roll of his eyes and an obnoxious sigh, Iron Man shot them both in the chest, knocking them out cold.

"That felt too easy. Did that feel too easy to you?" He asked the other Avengers as they gathered back together.

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but I agree with Tony," Natasha said, "That fight was too good to be true."

Now that the truth had been revealed to them, the Avengers could blame what happened next on the Fates.

Ω ♆ Ω

There it is! I hope you liked it

other chapters :)

[samingtonwilson]

Apartment 8C - Chapter 2

Finding Your Independence

SERIES MASTERLIST // PREVIOUS PART

Summary: college au. you and bucky are the closest of friends, the most functional of roommates, and… exes. but just because it didn’t work out romantically doesn’t mean he has to move out! it’s not like he’s so deeply in love that he can barely breathe. totally not in love. at all. not even a little. maybe.

Pairing: bucky x reader

Warnings: language

A/N: the chapter title is ironic because this chapter is about how dependent these two are on each other. 

A scream startles you from accidental sleep. Deep, broken, and utterly terrified. 

It’s half-past six. Your room is bathed in gold. Fading sunlight and emerging city lights leak through the thin drapes over your windows. You set your chin onto an open textbook. 

Your eyes open narrowly. You need to listen carefully. You could have dreamt the scream.

A slow second passes, your eyes nearly shut, and then— 

Another scream. This time of your name. Your eyes snap back open.

You flip the pen you fell asleep holding, gripping it as a weapon while groggily— but with great haste, of course— climbing out of bed. 

Heartbeat in your ears, you sigh and kick away the thick purple blanket your feet are tangled in, throwing your door open to an empty living room. 

The front door is shut, your television hasn’t been ripped from the wall, everything is in its place. Even Bucky’s laptop sits undisturbed on the coffee table next to an almost totally flat bag of Doritos. 

You tilt your head. 

From behind the bathroom door, your name is screamed again. And a whimper punctuates it. 

In all your time of knowing Bucky, you’ve never once heard him so terrified. 

You swallow over the tension tightening your throat and pick up the first semi-threatening object you see: the penis-shaped vase Bucky had “unintentionally” made in ceramics during the semester he’d devoted to discovering his artistic side. 

You toss the pink peonies it houses aside and grip the vase tightly, pen poised in your other hand. You use your elbow to open the door, eyes narrowed and teeth gritted in an attempt to look tough. Objects held above your head, you’re about to strike when— 

When you see Bucky standing on top of the toilet. Towel wrapped haphazardly around his waist, chestnut hair dripping, his blue eyes wild. He’s also pale as a ghost, but his fearful expression takes only seconds to shift into one of confusion. 

One which matches yours. “You’re not being murdered?” 

“No!” he shouts back to meet your volume. He points at the glass wall enclosing the shower, finger shaking. “There’s a fucking spider in there!” 

Your teeth grit again. But this time in anger. “You shrieked like someone was beheading you over a spider?” 

Seconds later, you gasp dramatically as you ask, “You woke me up from a nap over a spider?” 

He at least has the decency to be sheepish. “S’a big spider.”

“You’re six-feet tall and have, like, 185 pounds on that spider.” 

“Size doesn’t matter. I raise you the poisonous spiders of Australia.” 

Nodding, you hold out your forearm to help Bucky off the toilet seat. You grunt at the weight of him. 

Maybe 185 is a stingy estimation. 

“Okay, I see your poisonous spiders of Australia and raise you ‘we’re in New fucking York, Bucky.’” 

Standing on the floor now, he winces when you use the back of your hand to slap his bicep. “There are poisonous spiders in New York, too, okay? We’re all afraid of something.” 

Silence as you regard him, a sigh as you concede. “Okay.” You ignore his victorious smile. “I’ll take care of it. Can you just turn the water off, please?” 

“And get close to that thing again?” he demands, outrage clear in his voice. He tries to keep his towel in place with one hand as he gesticulates with the other. “No! You do it.” 

“My clothes will get wet and I’m not in the mood to strip for you right now.” 

He smiles at that. “S’not like I haven’t seen it all before.”

“Yeah? You wanna make ‘we’ve fucked before’ jokes right now? When the fate of you ever using this bathroom again is in my hands?” 

An almost pathetic whimper and he relents with hands held up in surrender. He approaches the shower slowly and, with a scowl, reaches for the knob once, twice, three times before finally gripping it and turning it to the left. 

Once the steady stream of water is reduced to mere drops, Bucky stands back and sends you a glare. “Happy?” 

“Elated.” You set your weapons on the counter and rip off two sheets of paper towel. 

“Kill it quickly.” 

“I’m not gonna kill it.” 

He snorts as he stands leant against the doorframe. “What, are you gonna adopt it as the apartment pet?” 

“No, funny guy. I’m gonna let it go on the balcony.” 

“What if it comes back in?” 

“Then we’ll get the Five Families together and let the Mafia handle it.” 

When you finally spot the thick, quarter-sized spider, you inhale through your nose and step into the shower stall slowly. You brace yourself with one hand wrapped around the edge of the glass wall. Your features are pinched.

Bucky grins at the sight. “You scared, baby?” 

A sarcastic bark of laughter, and you crack one eye open. You almost convince him. “Please.” 

It takes little coaxing for the brown spider to crawl onto the paper towel and you immediately fold each side of it closed. There’s a soft scratch of the spider’s legs against the paper walls, more felt than heard, and you forcefully choke back vomit. 

You bump into Bucky as you race out of the bathroom, his towel very nearly slipping from his fingers, and don’t slow your steps until you’re across the living room and have pushed the balcony doors open. 

Carefully, you unfold one side of the makeshift cocoon and squeal quietly to yourself as the spider stumbles into a flower box attached to the metal rail. It quickly scurries behind a wilting tulip and you make a mental note to water the plants more.

“You were coming to protect me with this?” 

Bucky, now dressed in a t-shirt and a pair of navy blue sweatpants, is holding the penis vase when you turn. He stands at a safe distance, shielded by the door, and has the nerve to wear a shit-eating grin. “You know there’s a baseball bat behind the couch, right?” 

“Now I do.”

“I also gave you pepper spray when you enrolled in that nine PM lecture,” he adds as you walk through the door and right past him. He places the vase back on its shelf and nods his head toward the kitchen. “There are knives right there, too.” 

You pick up the bag of Doritos, confirm that it is indeed empty, and frown. “Disgusting. I’d never stab someone.” 

“Even if they were murdering me like you thought?” He takes the bag from you and balls it up to throw in the trash. He wants to open the refrigerator but knows the groceries he forgot to buy won’t magically appear on the shelves. 

“Knives are such a cliché, everyone uses knives. He’d see it coming.” You grin at Bucky through the explanation from your favorite corner of the couch and he stills behind the kitchen counter. “The key is throwing him off his rhythm. Penis vase serves that purpose.” 

He laughs, albeit a bit oddly, rolling his eyes as he opens the Notes app on his phone. And he draws a blank. “What, uh— What foods do you like?” 

“Excuse me?” 

“Do you have any favorite foods?”

He’s met with silence. 

He decides to explain. Sort of. “Like, what do you want to eat most of the time? What is it that you crave? Food-wise,” he adds with a cocked eyebrow. “What is it you know how to make that you enjoy eating? Are you acting out of lunacy again and dieting for no fuckin’ reason?” 

Seconds go by and you have yet to answer. He looks up from his phone and answers the question over your features with, “Just out of curiosity.” 

“Not because you have zero idea what to buy from the store?”

“Can’t a guy wonder what his friend, ex-girlfriend, and roommate is eating these days? Just for fun? To bond?” 

Your eyes narrow into a glare. “Not when that guy is you and it’s your turn to go grocery shopping. I thought I gave you a list a few days ago.” 

“You yell random items at me on your way out the door for class and I’m expected to remember it all?” 

“You yelled your feelings at me constantly and I was expected to remember it all,” you return as you rise from the couch and draw closer to him only to sit in one of the barstools at the counter. You watch as he opens his Notes application again and stare as he struggles to come up with anything. “Green apples, white peaches, red bell peppers, yellow onions. Don’t look at me like that. The colors are important.”

“Yeah, yeah. What are you doing for dinner? Might take me some time to decipher colors at the store.” 

Chin propped up on your palm, you slide his phone over and ignore his expression of protest to add eggs, sourdough bread, avocados, pre-cut mushrooms, celery, hummus, whatever pasta is shaped like a spiral, tortilla chips, oat milk, any flavor of microwave popcorn Wanda won’t finish, and for God’s sake, you fucking wreck, buy your own gum for once to the grocery list.

“S’okay. I’m not really hungry anyway.”

“You’re always hungry.”

You gasp in offense with a small, contradictory smile. “How dare you? That’s not something you say to a lady.”

He smiles sarcastically before rolling his eyes. “If you need me to rush so you can make something, I will.” 

“Too tired to make anything. Also just too untalented to.” 

“Come with me, then. We can stop somewhere on the way back.” He sees you begin to refuse and cuts you off with a quick, “I’ll pay.” 

“If you think you paying for my food is incentive enough for me to put on human pants and walk out that door,” you begin, pointing at the door, “then you’re absolutely correct. Give me a second to put jeans on.” 

You hear Bucky’s chuckle as you walk into your room, tossing away that pair of fleece pants your mother had begged you to burn to ash the last time you’d seen her and replacing them with a pair of jeans your mother had also begged you to burn to ash. “How do you feel about Sam and Nat?” 

“About Sam, negatively. About Tasha, positively.” He’s patting the pockets of his sweats and tossing couch cushions every which way to look under them, hair in disarray, when you hop into the room with only your right boot on. In a mumbled, barely present voice, he adds, “So I guess that balances out to feeling neutral about them together.”

Slipping on and zipping up your left boot, you cock an eyebrow at the elephant throw pillow which is sent smacking against your ankles. “Have you lost something?” 

He doesn’t look up from the sofa as he replies, “Keys. Where the shit are my fucking keys?” 

“D’you check the cabinet closest to the fridge?” 

“Why the fuck—” 

You sigh and begin to set the cushions back where they belong, placing the elephant gingerly at the center of the couch. “Just check.” 

Bucky’s grumbles as he passes by, his scoffs of disbelief, and sighs of annoyance are ignored until you hear his every noise abruptly end as he stares at the cabinet he is now standing before. 

“Find ‘em?” 

There are equal parts shock, fear, and exasperation over his features. He slams the cabinet shut. “You’re a witch, aren’t you? Some kind of freaky, all knowing witch?” 

“Yes. Do you have your wallet?” 

A pat on each of his pockets, then one against his ass— despite not having a pocket there. He bares his teeth for a moment. “You wanna tell me where that is, too?” 

“Can I get three guesses this time?” 

“Two,” he states, leaning against the counter. “Impress me.” 

“First of all, I couldn’t give half a shit about impressing you.” Bucky snorts at that. “It’s either in the freezer—” 

He opens the freezer and the next thing you hear is a loud, “Ha! Whoo! You’re wrong!” 

“I have another guess.” 

He visibly deflates, smug smile wiped clean. “Yeah, yeah. Go on.” 

“Counter of your bathroom, in the pocket of whatever jeans you wore to class.” 

You run a few steps behind his long strides to the bathroom and stand in the doorway as he fishes through the pile of dirty clothes beside the sink. 

He thinks he might hate the smile you’re wearing when he pulls his wallet from the depths of denim, but he can’t bring himself to hate it— he feels quite the opposite about it, actually. It’s worth the inevitable gloating and the crazy accurate interpretation of a celebratory dance you saw a football player you can’t remember the name of do after a touchdown. 

You’re laughing when he brushes past you to walk to the door and grin as you pass him so he can lock it behind you. “What would you do without me, Buck?” 

He honestly doesn’t know. 

— 

Your laughter captures Bucky’s attention. Delighted, excited, and entirely too loud. 

He’s been nursing a red Solo cup of lukewarm supermarket-brand cola for about two hours now. 

It’s disgusting. Watered-down now that the ice has melted, but still too sweet and a little flat. He would’ve liked to cut it with the bitterness of anything alcoholic, but he can’t. 

He’s designated driver tonight, after all. The miserable result of a miserable coin toss. 

He’d suggested thumb wrestling— but you weren’t having it. Something about his thumb being far larger than yours, giving him an unfair advantage. Almost as if you’d known he’d chosen thumb wrestling for that precise reason. 

So he’s spent the night pouting. 

Complaining. 

Glowering at anyone that dares to make conversation with him. 

Because he hates the cheap soda Steve buys. He hates the sticky counters Sam waits hours to wipe down. And he hates hearing underclassmen talk about how hot you are when your ping pong ball skates over the rim of one of Natasha’s cups. 

But he smiles at the sound of your laughter. At the way you grin, all smug and victorious. It lights up otherwise glossy eyes, drunken giggles growing clumsy as Natasha frowns down at a cup matching his. 

“You gotta drink it down, babe!” You lean your hip against the plastic table set up in the kitchen and purse your lips when Natasha fishes the beer-soaked ball from her cup to toss at your shoulder. “Poor sportsmanship is unbecoming on you.” 

Natasha rolls green eyes over the top of the cup, chugging its contents easily. “Just like cockiness is on you.” 

“Let’s not lie to ourselves, Nat.” Natasha is already struggling against a smile. “We all know cockiness is dead sexy on me.” 

Beside Bucky, Sam laughs. He raises his hands in innocence and surrender when Natasha shoots him a glare. “Not pickin’ sides, that was just funny.” 

“You’re not picking your girlfriend’s side automatically?” is Bucky’s question asked in a voice exaggeratedly naïve. He grins lopsidedly as he takes a sip of soda only to retch as it goes down. “That’s brave.”

You watch as Natasha pitches her next shot over the rim of one of four remaining cups. You send Bucky a smile as you retrieve it. “Bucky was always on my side when we were together.”

His devious smile is like a secret between the two of you. He hums in agreement. “Blindly.” 

“Loyally.” You hold the cup at your lips, stomach and cheeks warm from three hours of generous beer and mixed drink helpings. Your next swallow goes down with a shudder.

“I’d root against myself for her.” 

“S’more pathetic than loyal,” Sam snorts only to earn a squeak of indignation and an empty cup to the chest in response. Despite purported offense, he chuckles at your delighted laughter and quickly sobers to point a stern finger. “Makin’ a mess of my kitchen like this. Rogers’ll kill you.”

In challenge, you cock an eyebrow. “He’ll kill you first when he sees all the candy missing from his secret stash.” 

“Barnes ate all that.” 

Bucky’s stomach flips at the way you tilt your head and narrow your eyes, at the soft flutter of your eyelashes, the promise in your voice when you say, “Blind loyalty, Sammy. That isn’t the story I’ll tell Steve.” 

“You aren’t even dating anymore.” 

You wave a dismissive hand. “I’ll always be on Bucky’s side. Plus if I go down, I’m taking you with me.”

Pointedly at a glowering Sam, Bucky tears the wrapper of a fun-size Twix bar and takes as big a bite as the small bar will allow. 

There’s caramel in his teeth and smug satisfaction in his eyes as he stuffs the gold foil into the pocket of Sam’s bomber jacket, laughing when the latter slaps his hand away. 

What feels like a lifetime passes and Bucky waits until you’ve completed a second game— this time defeated by a furious and candy-less Steve— to Irish goodbye. 

It’s his signature. 

He hasn’t said a proper goodbye to anyone in years.

Your drunkenness, however, foils his plan. You insist on pressing kisses to the forehead of each of your friends— lingering a bit longer for Sam just to earn a snort from Natasha— and you tap the fishbowl housing a temperamental turquoise Betta fish named Marcel twice as you couldn’t just exclude Marcel and hurt his feelings. You even leave them with an ominous, “I hope we will all meet again.”  

He lets you climb onto his back when you stumble out of his car to your building, tripping over the four-inch block heel of your boots, and soon the elevator stall is filled with your humming. Unintelligible, entirely out of tune. And you swing your legs. Dysrhythmic, offbeat. 

He smiles when you set your chin upon the crown of his head, his hold on you tightening as the metallic doors slide open on the eighth floor. He feels the deep breath you take against his back, his attention drawn away from the short walk down the hall when your feather-like fingertips trace his jaw. 

Nails skimming over the bristly hairs of his stubbly beard to the hidden divot in his chin, you— already flush against him— attempt to push yourself even closer. And huff in disappointment when you’re unable to. 

You feel him come to a stop. “Sweetheart?” 

A short hum, this time in question. 

“I gotta unlock the door.” 

You open your eyes slowly, blink away some of the drowsiness. You think offhandedly that the pale yellow door could use a fresh coat of paint. “I’ll do it.” You hold out a hand and wiggle your fingers. “Keys?” 

“In my left pocket.” He chuckles when your right hand slides down the incorrect side. “Other left.” 

You heave a deep sigh, your other hand slipping into his left pocket to feel around. The jingle of keys is muted by your triumphant shout, fingers sorting through the bundle of steel to find the one semi-coated in bright pink nail polish. You decide that should be repainted first lest the two of you mix up your keys again.

Bucky watches as you attempt to stretch enough to reach the doorknob, jolting each time you urge yourself forward. He grins when you whimper pathetically. “You can ask me to move closer.” 

The arm still wrapped around his neck tightens a bit and you press your cheek to the roughness of his. You strain toward the door once more in stubborn perseverance, then knock your heels against the side of his thighs. He laughs at the growl in his ear.

“Ask me verbally. I’m not a horse.” 

“Got the name of one,” you mumble, crossing your ankles at his waist as he grips you harder. “Longer you stand there refusing to move, the longer you have-ta hold me up.” 

“Been lifting with Steve. I’m content to stand here all night.”

“What, trying to get that post-breakup revenge body?” 

“Gotta do something to fill all my new free time.” 

A hiccup punctuates your giggles and Bucky feels you straighten before leaning back ever so slightly. 

Suddenly, you jerk forward with all of your might, sending Bucky lurching to the door. He has to remove a hand from your legs to steady himself against the wall, breath shallow and heart in his ears when he notices he’s only centimeters from smashing into the wood. “Hey!” 

You, still holding on, shush him as you slip the key into the brass latch, whispering, “Our neighbors are sleeping.”

Once you’re able to throw the door open and Bucky walks inside, you detangle your ankles and leap to the floor as the lights flicker on. You laugh when your knees very nearly buckle, fingers gripping the edge of the kitchen counter under a wave of lightheadedness. Your stomach flips and every trace of humor fades. “Yikes.” 

Bucky, halfway through removing the leather jacket he’d worn over a black hoodie, watches as you lay your torso across the counter. He smiles when you press your cheek to the cool marble, his laughter mingling with the groans that leave your lips. 

Your muffled grumble sounds vaguely like, “Oh, shut up.”

His steps are slow and quiet. He offers you an apologetic smile when you startle at his touch, brushing stray strands of hair from your shut eyes. He wrinkles his nose at your answering scowl, watching as glassy eyes still filled with such potent brightness narrow in an attempt at intimidation. “Need a lift to your bathroom?” 

You shake your head. Propping yourself up onto your forearms, you nod toward your room. “It’ll be too shaky. Maybe just guide me there?” 

His fingers lace through yours and he tugs you upright. He doesn’t mind supporting the weight of you, doesn’t care that he has to dodge the books and shoes you’ve left littered over your bedroom floor. 

Your bathroom light is switched on and you pull away from Bucky to take quick, stuttering steps to the toilet. He winces to himself when you fall to your knees, your trembling hands clamoring to push the seat cover up. 

As you feel that maybe your stomach has turned itself inside out, Bucky gathers your hair in one hand and holds you close to his chest with the other— just in case you need the support. Until then, though, he rubs comforting circles which warm you even through the satin fabric of your shirt. 

“Twix and beer are a horrible combination coming up,” you remark, voice rough, minutes later. You’re seated against him once you’ve thoroughly emptied your system, head falling back onto his shoulder. “That last game of beer pong was a mistake.”

He feels your breath wash over his skin and, despite how perfectly okay he would be with sitting there for hours, turns his head away. “Sweetheart, I want to be here for you but— but I can’t when your breath smells like that.” 

Stunned pause, and you burst into laughter. Tired hands are used as leverage and you stand, boots long ago removed and thrown aside. You send him a smile over your shoulder and roll your eyes but face the sink as he grins dopily back. “You’re weak, Barnes.” 

He meets your playful gaze in the mirror and, at the sight of pooled dried mascara underlining your eyes and the thin layer of sweat spread over the bridge of your nose, he forces himself to take a steadying breath. “You have no idea. Hungry?” 

Loading your toothbrush with translucent paste, you shrug. “Maybe.” 

“Grilled cheese or pancakes?” 

“If I say both, will you judge me?” 

“I just held your hair back while you threw up a keg’s worth of beer and you’re afraid I’ll start to judge you now?” 

You smile as you scrub your teeth in rapid strokes. “There was some vodka in there, too.”

Shoulder leant against the doorframe, his eyes are alight. “My mistake. Anything else you’d like while I’m at it?” 

“Some ibuprofen?” you ask after spitting the foam from your mouth. “I’m all out here.” 

A frown of consideration, and he nods. “Will that be all?” 

“Yes, I believe it will be.” Before he can walk out, you call his name. “What would I do without you?” 

He honestly hopes you’ll never have to find out.

--

CHAPTER 3: GETTING BACK IN THE GAME 

[krowfics]

A Spider’s Shadow Chapter 3

Fandom: Warrior cats/Sander Sides

Ships: Prinxiety, Logicality, Dukeceit, (Probably eventual) Remile, otherwise platonic LAMP, familial Creativitwins+Thomas

Plot: Spiderpaw is the sole witness to a murder, due to this, he is no longer safe in Shadowclan. He soon finds himself amongst a group of secret rebels who disagree with the Warrior Code.

Words this chapter: 2244

Notes: Mentions of death and blood, self deprecation, unsympathetic/morally gray Janus and Remus, flashbacks, discussion of hunting and dead animals (fresh kill), one mention of almost vomiting, Remus is Remus but it isn’t that bad, be prepared to meet Too Many Background Cats™

Chapter 1  Chapter 2

~~~

At once, Spiderpaw was in front of a large, mostly white tom nearly twice the size of him. Golden spots of tabby fur showed over his pelt, angry yellow eyes scowled at the small cat. He must’ve been guarding the entrance for the night.

Spiderpaw had hardly noticed that Lionbright had gone ahead to put his catch in the fresh kill pile and was now returning, “Tallsong!” He said cheerily, “This is Spiderpaw, he needs our help.”

Spiderpaw swallowed, trying and failing to not puff up out of fear. An achingly long moment passed, “I see.” He glanced at Lionbright, “Then I’d better get Redstar.” He turned to walk toward a trail of rocks a short distance away.

They were in a ravine, he’d heard that Thunderclan’s camp was in a ravine but it still shocked him to see massive rocks surrounding the camp.

Lionbirght led him toward the rock trail as well, stopping short so they could stare up at the ledge leading into a small cave. A few cats were awake and staring at the newcomer, eyes wide and suspicious despite the fact that they’d only just woken up. He remembered his mentor’s warnings then; all the clans hated Shadowclan, thinking that they were aggressive and sneaky, willing to steal prey at any opportunity. Though now the Shadowclan warriors were saying that about Skyclan, so maybe all the clans just thought badly of each other.

Still, he couldn’t shake the fact that he was being seen as an enemy standing in the heart of their camp. “Who’s the new kit?” A voice meowed, Spiderpaw turned to see a gray cat approaching them, a recognizable streak of white along his upper lip along with messy and ruffled fur, this was their medicine cat apprentice, “Lionbright! Did you have a half clan kit and not tell me?”

Spiderpaw nearly choked on nothing but air at the accusation, “Of course not.” Lionbright said with an exasperated sigh, “This is Ratpaw, anything he says or does can be ignored.”

“That hurts, Lionbright!” Ratpaw gasped, “Not only do you wish to ignore a medicine cat but also your own littermate! Oh, how cruel can a warrior be?” He wallowed.

“Ignore him.” Lionbright reiterated to Spiderpaw, the small tom nodded.

Ratpaw made an audible sniff and then froze, “You’re Shadowclan?” he said, suddenly serious but was cut off by a movement in their peripherals. 

Two cats stepped out of the cave. Tallsong walked down the rocky path and sat at the bottom, turning his muzzle to the other cat, Shadowpaw recognized him from the gathering. 

Redstar stared down at him from the ledge, “Lionbright, explain.” His meow boomed the command.

“Redstar,” Lionbright said, “This is Spiderpaw from Shadowclan, I found him wandering near the lakeshore covered in fear scent during my morning hunt.”

“I didn’t see you leave camp.” Tallsong said pointedly.

“I went out through the dirt place tunnel.” He said it like it was obvious.

“You’re Nightstar’s kit, right?” The leader said. Spiderpaw nodded, swallowing heavily at the reminder. Redstar shifted, “Come to my den you two,” He said, “Ratpaw, wake Fernstorm and Frostpool and then join us.”

Lionbright nodded and walked up the stone, Spiderpaw followed behind him. They stepped into the cave along with the leader. They sat, waiting for the others. Spiderpaw was scared to say the least, he didn’t want to think about what would happen if they didn’t believe him. What if the brought him back to Shadowclan or sent a warrior to inform Snakeface that they had a traitorous cat spewing lies about murder? Lionbright sat close to him, seeming to sense his worries.

“Why are you here?” Redstar asked Spiderpaw once his deputy and medicine cats had arrived.

The runt tried not to shake as he stared at the leader, he opened his mouth, only to shut it as he suddenly remembered the event again. Visions of blood covered his eyes and he slammed them shut. Lionbright laid his tail on Spiderpaw’s shoulders, his eyes worried and questioning. “I’m fine.” Spiderpaw whispered, grateful for the concern nonetheless, he turned his gaze back to the Thunderclan leader once again and took a breath.

“I woke up at moonhigh and saw Snakeface,” his claws slipped out instinctively and he forced them back in as to not look threatening, if he even could look threatening with his size, “He took Nightstar’s last two lives.” Spiderpaw’s voice cracked. Redstar’s eyes widened but stayed quiet, waiting for the apprentice to continue, “He smelled my fear scent, so I ran. It didn’t know where to go so I…” He glanced to his friend beside him, “I just... wandered around the lake until Lionbright found me.”

“Why would Snakeface want to kill his leader?” Fernstorm, Redstar’s deputy, shifted uncomfortably, “Surly, Starclan wouldn’t accept him as the new leader if he did.” She looked at Frostpool for confirmation.

“They wouldn’t.” Ratpaw stated.

“I’d like to think not either, Ratpaw,” The other she cat said, “But it has happened before.”

“And how do we trust that he isn’t just here to steal prey?” Ratpaw asked.

Lionbright glared at his brother, “Just because that’s what you would do doesn’t mean that’s what he would do.” He practically hissed.

Redstar had a thoughtful frown, “He’s right to be suspicious, though.” He said. Lionbright said nothing, thinking of a way to defend Spiderpaw.

Spiderpaw, however, defended himself, “You’ll know I’m not lying when Nightstar doesn’t go to the next gathering.”

“We’ll know sooner, actually.” Fernstorm spoke, “If he does try to gain his lives then he’ll have to pass through our territory to get to Moonpool.”

Redstar nodded, “Then Spiderpaw will stay with us for a quarter moon, if Snakeface never shows then he will go back to Shadowclan.”

There were mews of agreement from most of the cats, “Thank you.” Spiderpaw said, his voice full of relief, earning him a smile from the leader.

“This information doesn’t leave this den.” Redstar said, “I don’t want gossip to spread before we can confirm what Spiderpaw said.”

Redstar turned and stepped out of his den, the others following behind. “Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey gather here beneath the Highledge for a Clan meeting!” Redstar called as the warrior and apprentice made her way down the rock path. Tallsong still stood at the bottom, glaring at the Shadowclan cat.

Once enough cats awoke, stepping out of their nests and making their way to Highledge, Redstar spoke again, “We have a Shadowclan apprentice with us, Spiderpaw will stay with us for a quarter moon.” There were gasps and whispers around the ravine, “I ask that none of you tell cats outside Thunderclan of our guest, not even Shadowclan warriors, I swear to explain my reasoning within the quarter moon.” He promised. His gaze turned to Spiderpaw once again, “I trust that you will be willing to help out around the camp during your stay.” 

Spiderpaw nodded, “Yes, of course.”

“Good, that is all,” He said, dismissing his clan, “Fernstorm will now organize the patrols.” 

Fernstorm nodded and stepped down the stones with the medicine cats. The deputy stopped and sat as cats began gathering around her while the medicine cats continued to approach Spiderpaw and Lionbright, but some other cats were already swarming around the guest.

“Are you really from Shadowclan?” A brown tabby cat stepped towards the pair.

“Uhm, ye-”

“He’s the tinypaw that Starkpaw and Talonpaw were telling us about!” A white tom cut in loudly.

Spiderpaw’s ears fell back, of course all the apprentices knew about him, he hadn’t gone to the last gathering but Starkpaw and Talonpaw certainly had.

“And if you’ll recall,” Lionbright stood from Spiderpaw’s side to glare at his old denmate, “Those two spout nothing but lies.”

Something flared in Spiderpaw’s chest at the way his friend defended it but he chose to ignore it. The white tom snorted, “Yeah, whatever, they are Shadowclan after all, but it’s not like ‘tinypaw’ isn’t accurate.”

“What’s Shadowclan territory like?” The brown cat asked excitedly before Spiderpaw could defend himself from the tom, their bright green eyes alight with curiosity, “Is it scary?”

“No..?” He said, shifting his weight between his forepaws. Lionbright turned to sit next to him again as he spoke, “It’s nice, it’s just dark enough to have plenty of shadows to hide in, but there aren’t two many trees that you have to worry about tripping on roots.”

“But fresh kill hides in roots.” Another brown cat, looking near identical to the first except for her blue eyes, “Isn’t it harder to hunt?”

Spiderpaw shrugged, “I never really had a problem with hunting,” It was true, it was the one thing he seemed to be a decent apprentice at, “Lizards usually sit on rock and trunks, snakes coil around anything, rocks mostly, toads and frogs are easy to find if the area’s wet,” All of the apprentices’ faces screwed up at his words, even Lionbright looked grossed out, “What?” Spiderpaw asked.

“Ooh! Toads, delicious.” Ratpaw mewed as he and his mentor strolled up to the group.

“Of course, you’d think toads taste good.” One of the brown cats rolled her eyes.

“Don’t knock ‘em to you try ‘em!” He purred.

“What does that even mean?” The white tom mewed, but the only answer he got from Ratpaw was a shrug.

Frostpool shook her head with a laugh, her apprentice must say strange things often, “I’m sure Spiderpaw would be willing to talk about Shadowclan later, but I think he might want to actually have some fresh kill instead of just talking about it.” She said, receiving a nod from the tom, “And then have one of the other ‘paws help you make a nest in their den, I assume you’re tired after everything.”

Before Spiderpaw could confirm that he did indeed feel like he could sleep for a moon, a gray cat spoke up, “I don’t think we can fit another cat in there.” she stated.

“We’ll figure something out if that’s the case.” The medicine cat said, turning toward her den and flicking her tail to indicate Ratpaw should go there, “I’ll be back from herb gathering soon enough.” She said. Ratpaw stared at Spiderpaw for a long moment before he stood to follow his mentor. His suspicious look was enough to make Spiderpaw’s skin crawl.

“He’s small though,” A gray tom with large patches of white said, “It’s still going to be packed, hopefully he doesn’t mind cuddling.” He did.

“I don’t want to cuddle with a Shadowclan cat!” The first gray cat practically hissed, and he didn’t want to cuddle with Thunderclan.

The brown she cat nodded, “No offense, but you smell like crowfood.”

“You don’t exactly smell like catmint yourself.” Spiderpaw said before he could stop himself, causing Lionbright to snicker beside him.

“Lionbright, Whitepaw!” A black cat stepped towards them, “Oh, and Spiderpaw, was it?” she said, he nodded, “I’m Crowclaw, I’m sorry if my apprentice has said anything rude.”

“Hey! I didn’t!” The white tom huffed.

She rolled her eyes at him, “You and Lionbright are on hunting patrol with me.” 

“Hunting?” The curious brown tabby spoke, “I wanna go! Can I go?”

Crowclaw smiled at them, “That depends, ask your mentor.” Within a moment, the apprentice was running up to Fernstorm, their apparent mentor, to ask.

“I’ll see you later,” Lionbright said, giving a lick to Spiderpaw’s ear.

“I- yeah, see you.” He couldn’t explain the sudden tightness in his chest and just watched as the hunting patrol, joined by the excited brown tabby, exited camp.

“That was Nettlepaw.” The other brown tabby said, “And yes, they always have that much energy. I’m Softpaw.” She mewed, “That’s Cloudpaw,” She pointed her tail at the gray and white tom, “And Skypaw,” She pointed at the other one.

“Softpaw, Skypaw, we’re on border patrol.” A fluffy white and silver cat called from a distance.

“And that’s my mentor, Sheepbelly, and we got to go.” Softpaw said quickly, “Cloudpaw will have to be on bedding duty.” She stood to leave, leaving just Cloudpaw and Spiderpaw alone.

The other apprentice’s muzzle was twisted into a scowl as he watched the patrol leave, he glanced over to Spiderpaw, “The fresh kill pile’s over there,” he gestured his tail at the pile of prey that Spiderpaw had seen Lionbright put the robin in earlier, “And that’s the apprentice’s den.” He nodded at the den before standing and walking towards it. This cat didn’t like Spiderpaw very much, that was clear, but none of the apprentices seemed to like him. He supposed it wasn’t that much different to Shadowclan, there were just much more ‘paws here.

Spiderpaw watched for a moment before he stood and stepped towards the pile, a part of him really wanted to take the robin but it was one of the biggest fresh kill in the pile, so he’d best leave it to the elders and queens. His belly felt strange, like he’d swallowed a rock, he doubted that he’d be able to eat the entire bird anyway. Instead he found a small wren and took it a short distance away from the rest.

It’d been a while since he’d had wren, it tasted good from what he remembered. He settled himself down and held the bird between his forepaws. He leaned down and sank his teeth into its neck, almost immediately hurling at the taste.

~~~

Ah yes, Remus the medicine cat. Remus the doctor nun. Remus in the one role where he isn’t allowed to hurt anyone or take a mate. This was the only logical role I could give him.

And Redstar = Thomas

Chapter 4

Tags~ @perfectly-princely-emo-nightmare

[ironbiohazard03]

The Power of Veronica

So I have been anonymously asked to write smut, as comfortable as I felt, with a dominating Alexia and sub Claire from Resident Evil Code Veronica. The plot of my choice, which I kinda chuckle at because I have NOT played Code Veronica (CV). I’ve watched a lot of videos about CV and played Darkside Chronicles, but this was a fun challenge presented to me.

This story is PG-13, 16+. Pretty much a lime!

To anyone who’s a fan of the RE series, like how much I TRULY love it, I hope you find this piece interesting!!

          The Ashford Mansion was more than just a symbolic relic left behind by Umbrella; it held more than just that. Behind its dirty and dingy walls laid something far more sinister and evil. The residents in this household were more than hellbent to bring something to the world it would never see before. The name Veronica would be etched.

                                                             //

           Guns went ablaze as Claire tried everything she could against the demented Alfred. He laughed like a royal maniac as he shot right at her, but suddenly it came to a halt and Claire could hear Alfred lowering his rifle down.

           Great, now’s my opportunity to get one shot on him and get the hell out of here.

           As she pulled out her Magnum gun to take the bastard out of his misery, a soft feminine voice came through. “Please dear brother, let me deal with the guest. I don’t think it would be wise to shoot them, it would ruin the dinner conversation.”

           A woman dressed in the loveliest, ornate purple gowns waltzed on through. She looked like she was ready to attend an opera, but as she started to sing flurries of insects surrounded Claire.

           “WHAT THE HELL ARE THESE?! GET AWAY FROM ME!”

           Oversized flies that looked like ants and spiders that had wings managed to pick up Claire and she dropped her gun in the process. “Alright, what do you two want with me? I don’t have any money or political power; all I want is for you to let go of Steve. OK?” She tried to wriggle her way out from the disgusting bugs, but a rather large sized black widow slinked its way down from the ceiling. It slightly flexed its legs in anticipation of catching its prey. An almost hissing-like sound escaped the monster’s mouth, an acidic fluid dripped down its mouth and left small holes on the concrete below.

           Alexia almost giggled at the sight of the distressed woman. “Oh, Steve you say? You mean the brat who should keep his mouth shut?” An evil smirk almost appeared on her doll-like face, but she wanted Claire to feel pure terror.

           “Look, LET HIM GO! You’re the one I’m after!” Claire screamed out, tears nearly welling in her eyes. She felt useless, for once in her life. No matter what she could do, her physical abilities were limited by the Queen-to-be in front of her.

          Alfred turned around and headed back towards his quarters. “Alexia, do whatever you want with this woman. She is of no concern to me; I doubt anyone like her can make an impact on the Ashford family. It's about time that the Ashfords reclaim what is rightfully theirs.” He almost let out another cackle, as if his grasp on a human reality was slipping farther in his mind.

          A few more of the bugs managed to carefully grab Claire’s weapons and made sure that they were put out of commission.

          With a snap of Alexia’s fingers, the insects released their grip and rudely dropped Claire like a hunk of meat.

          There Alexia stood, proud as ever. The Veronica virus melded so well with her, every action she made worked in tandem with it. Nothing could stop her now; in fact, she was more than willing to share that power with a select few. “I do say, you’re Claire Redfield right? I did some research on my end, because I was the result of what my father created and my lust for knowledge is what drives me. You managed to survive the horrific, or rather wonderful, results of Raccoon City. Hundreds of zombies running around, with no will of their own. Except, not me, I have my own will and I will make sure that everyone else around me begs on their knees for forgiveness.”

          A small ember nearly formed on the palm of her hand, not incinerating the delicate and beauty of her white gloves. Claire wanted to find something to combat with the crazy woman. How could Alexia talk about people like that? As if they’re puppets willing to be controlled. “Why are you keeping me alive? Wouldn’t you want just to kill me, right here, right now?” anger could be felt behind Claire’s voice, as if having to be reminded of the events of Raccoon City was enough. “Umbrella is nothing but scum and anyone who wants to bring harm to others deserve to burn in hell!”

          She still felt useless, normally any Redfield would find a way to get out of a situation. However, Claire felt completely out of her element.

          Just as Claire wanted to try to come up with some plan, Alexia breezed her way down the baroque staircase, one of the few remaining relics of Umbrella. The Ashford family prided themselves on elegance. If a mansion could look as elegant as ever, would it matter if there were bodies rotting in its core?

          “Claire, I want you to realize what Veronica can do for you as well. For as strong and resilient as you are, a woman like you should deserve some sort of benefit. Normally, anyone who dared to cross me would meet an untimely death. However, you are different, I see something within you that needs to be brought out.”

          Claire didn’t know what to do, she was completely terrified. A woman who would look like any other normal human, could manage to strike fear right into her. “I REFUSE!” she screamed in rebellion, she stood her ground and tried to find any sort of weapon. One of the staircase railways was on the verge of rusting off, so she managed to rip it off and swing it like a bat.

          With such grace and elegance, Alexia raised her hand and ignited the beam into a ball of flames.

          Quickly, Claire dropped it to the ground and went right into for a jab.

          However, whatever strength or ferocity Claire had, it was quickly drained as Alexia managed to inject her neck with something.

          Rage filled Claire’s delicate blue eyes, an almost tinge of red showed through, but darkness filled them. Shit, I can’t beat her. She’s just too strong.

          Thoughts of Raccoon City and people dying by the dozens flooded Claire’s mind; somehow Chris would be overrun by numerous zombies and would meet a grizzly demise.

          Minutes passed on by, hours passed on by, till Claire finally managed to gain consciousness. Chains and bindings held her down; there would be no way for her to escape.

          Suddenly, the same pain returned to her. She wanted to grab at it to dull the pain down, but nothing would quell that combustion. As if she felt every limb in her body was going through a hellfire. Suddenly, the insects that Alexia had summoned before started to gather and stood in awe in what they were witnessing. As if, somehow a sense of humanity was injected into them. “WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO ME?!” Claire screamed in confusion and anger. More and more, her hair started to change as some kind of vines or fauna started to sprout where her hair normally was.

          “You see, it’s the Veronica virus running its course. You will possess the same power as me. In fact, you could be even stronger than me if I showed you how it works.” A slight cooing tone escaped the female Ashford’s voice, she relished to see others suffer from what she proclaims as the next step of human evolution.

          Delicate fingers caressed Claire’s face, not a single blemish would ruin what Alexia visioned in her mind. As her fingers danced around, she found an opportunity with her other hand and ever so carefully let her fingers twirl the vine-covered hair. A few strands of red hair slipped through the madwoman’s fingers, but it brought an odd sense to the woman. As if, Alexia was wanting to do more than just twirl it.

          Lips met one another, but Claire had no will to fight, but to accept the truth around her. As if her body was almost craving more of the power Veronica would be able to deliver. Slowly but surely, more vines wrapped tightly around Claire’s delicate throat.

          She wanted to take a breath, but the ecstasy-filled rush took her body over. Hands tried to grab where they could, as if she was deserving to feel that way.

          Alexia pressed her body up against Claire’s; somehow Claire managed to feel the organza, the silkiness of that lovely purple dress.

          A small ember glowed on Alexia’s white gloves, yet the flame managed to not damage them. She quickly cut Claire’s red vest into tatters, exposing how much the Veronica virus could do to the human body. Alexia was far from any human, she was a scientific experiment ready to be brought out into the public. She would no longer keep herself in isolation or rely on experiments to do her bidding.

          The fauna on Claire’s body managed to hide her breasts ever so carefully, but to Alexia nothing would be hidden in her gaze.

          Fingers gradually cusped around Claire’s breast, fingernails ever so slightly dug into them. They didn’t bleed, but the pressure was too much for Claire. As she wanted to cry again, her lips were silenced once again by Alexia.

          For once in Alexia’s life, she found those sorts of romantic affairs odd, but entirely fascinating. How much satisfaction would she get from it all?

          However, Claire’s body was looking it wanted to reject the virus. Fear ran through her mind. Is this how Sherry felt all those years ago?

          Once again, she didn’t allow herself to cry while Alexia was around. Every so carefully, the female Ashford managed to pierce her hand right into Claire’s breast. Green blood slowly trickled down, but somehow the coldness brought a sense of pleasure to Claire. “PLEASE!”

          Panting breaths escaped from both women, they were completely drawn into the moment. Alexia could’ve easily just killed Claire right there, allow the virus that made Alexia who she was into Claire’s coffin. However, this moment would not be wasted.

          However, not soon after, a few male voices echoed in the chamber.

          “CLAIRE?!” both Chris and Steve yelled.

          Faith was slowly restored into Claire’s blue eyes. However, Alexia was disappointed with how short the affair was, but she was able to fulfill her purpose. See what the Veronica virus could do.

          “It’s such a shame that this game is over, but I don’t think we’re far over from it. Just remember, while I’m willing to give you a cure, Veronica will always call you back. It always does.”

          As Claire’s rescuers came by her side, Alexia dropped a purplish vial on the ground. “DO AS YOU WISH WITH HER! She can die where she is or you manage to save her, but I doubt it’ll last long.” She slinked her way back, an army of bugs created a getaway for her.

          “THE ASHFORDS ARE FAR FROM DONE, I HOPE YOU DO REMEMBER THAT!” Alexia screamed, but it was far from a scream; it was a declaration of war, Umbrella would be sure to come back to the public.

[thecleverdame]

Sam x Reader

Summary: Sam meets Y/N at her brother's funeral and finds a life he didn't know he could fit into.

Warnings: Death of a sibling, death of a child, smut, fluff

Beta:  @ilikaicalie

-

They roll into town just as fall is turning the forest bronze on the east coast. It’s a picturesque New England town, charming stores along the main street and townsfolk preparing for the last tourist invasion of the year. All while the trees fight to keep their tresses in the nippy autumn sky.

171 W. Bluebell Lane

The Kingston house looks like a brick castle that should be made of gingerbread and gumdrops. It’s a three-story colonial house, framed by a white picket fence and moated by way of a well-manicured lawn.

“Places like this always freak me out.” Dean laments, pulling at the knot of his tie.

Sam just chuckles.

Sam dreamed of growing up in a home like this. As a boy he imagined stable, safe families eating well-balanced meals together in ghoul-free dining rooms across America. Those dreams faded quickly as his dad tossed him a box of hostess cupcakes into the back seat of the Impala.

They have to park a couple blocks away. There’s a steady stream of black-clad mourners making their way up the front walk. Sam’s glad they wore the suits, Dean fought for something more casual but this seems more appropriate.

Sam wishes they would have brought a casserole or flowers. Anything to help him feel more reverent. They’ve been to plenty of wakes before, but the ones for children are always the worst - they make his gut ache.

There’s a larger-than-life picture of the kid set up in the living room. A cheerful five-year-old boy smiling wide and full of life.

He doesn’t want to be there. It’s been months of close quarters and hard motel mattresses. He and Dean are brothers, nothing will break that bond, but they both need to get the fuck away from each other. Sam’s had a dull headache for a week now, a tender throb in his temple he thinks he might be able to sooth if he could just get a moment to himself, just an elusive moment of silence.

Dean wanders off into the sea of somber faces and Sam makes his way into the backyard to check things out. It’s a cold blustery day, the wind is rattling the chains on the empty swing set, making a metal on metal clank that strikes a chord, like a tolling bell for mortality.

Sam shakes off the chill and sits down on the picnic table, taking a moment for himself. It’s a delicious second of peace he typically doesn’t snag, that is until she bursts out the back door. She almost trips down the steps, sniffling and dabbing at her nose with a kleenex as she steadies herself on the iron railing.

She’s wearing a frilly little dress, something that a younger girl might wear for a birthday party, except this one is all black.

By the time she notices Sam, she’s already barreling in his direction. She looks hesitant but sits down beside him anyway. He thinks she’s probably a knock out when her nose isn’t leaking like a sieve and red-raw from crying. She rubs bloodshot eyes with her thumb and index finger before wiping at her nose.

“Hey,” she whispers, giving him a good once-over as she tugs at the hem of her dress. The skirt is too short, doing a less than adequate job of covering her legs. She’s tall and her long legs are bare and he can see the tiny goosebumps on her thighs. He forces himself to look her in the face.

“I’m Sam.” He offers gingerly.

“Y/N.” She forces a smile that quickly breaks as she bursts into tears.

“Are you okay?” Sam frowns, instantly regretting the question. He’s nervous, that hasn’t happened in a while.

“No, I’m not okay. I’m a fucking mess.” She stops to wipe tears off her rosy cheeks. It hits Sam like a ton of bricks; she’s the older sister, the person they came to talk to.

She’s the one who was there when the kid, her brother, died.

Dean showed him a photo of her yesterday but it must have been old because he wasn’t prepared for this breathtaking woman who’s falling apart in front of him.

“I don’t want to go back in there,” she hiccups, looking at the house. Shaking her head, rogue tears slide from the corner of her eye.

“I wouldn’t either,” he confides.

“It’s so damn cold out here, move a little closer.” She commands and Sam doesn’t know what to make of her when she raises his arm up and wriggles against his side, laughing through tears. “I’m usually not this confident, you must think I’m a nut job.”

“It’s fine, it is cold out…you’re dealing with a lot. I think you get a free pass for this one.” He shrugs, letting his armrest gently on her shoulders.

“I’m gonna miss him so much.” She wrings her hands, her face crumpling in that nasty way when there’s too much pain as her cheeks blush even rosier. “This hurts so bad,” she whispers as if it stings to talk and then sobs into her hands so relentlessly that eventually, she doubles over.

One of her legs is pressed against his thigh, a naked soft leg that he wants to reach out to touch.

She sniffles.

He feels like a tactless pervert.

Sam stays with her until the tips of his ears go numb. He thinks about how much it hurt when he lost Dean. That raw throbbing in his chest he was convinced would kill him (for a while he wished it had). He wants to help her but it’s better to not get involved. They won't be around that long.

Sam tells her he’s a private investigator. She nods but he can see she doesn’t give two shits about anything other than her own nauseating grief.

The wind picks up and Sam’s so cold he shakes, teeth chattering his skull. She pulls away and he assumes she’s about to apologize for keeping him outside. Instead her eyes narrow and she groans. “I’m gonna puke.”

Jogging towards the house she offers one final glance back at him as she opens the back door. “Thanks, Sam!”

--

She’s not at the funeral. Dean stays there and Sam goes to find her.

Sam wanders on the front lawn of her parent's house for a half hour, stomping dead leaves and trying to determine exactly what’s wrong with him that he can’t bring himself to knock on the door like a normal person.

He’s done this a thousand times before.

After watching him pace back and forth through fallen leaves like a lumbering giant Y/N opens up the front door and calls out to him. “What are you doing?”

He tells her the truth. Tells her he came back to check on her, that he can’t stop thinking about her pain. She looks significantly better than the day before, but her eyes are still red and lips chapped. And she’s still holding onto a box of  Kleenex like it might save her life.

--

Sam sits next to her on jack-o-lantern sheets in Wes’ bedroom. She explains that he loved Halloween. He watches her as she traces one of the pumpkins on his child size pillow. Dragging the pillow into her lap she presses her face into it.

“It still smells like him,” she whispers.

“Y/N...what exactly happened?”

She doesn’t hesitate.

“He wanted me to read to him in the pile of leaves we raked in the front yard. Wes was nuts about this one book, The House of Boo, his favorite. So he sat in my lap and we read and then he just kinda, slumped back into me. I thought he was cuddling at first or maybe he fell asleep. They told me his heart just…stopped”

“Oh, God.” Sam murmurs. “I’m so sorry.”

“I never thought I’d have a little brother, no one did. I mean, I’m almost twenty years older…”

Sam could tell her, but it’s better than she never knows what actually happened to Wes. There’s no reason to tear her world apart.

When he leaves that day he’s prepared to say his goodbyes and walk away for good. But she calls to him down the driveway.

“Can I see you again?”

-

Sam sees Y/N more or less every night for a month. After a couple of days she starts crying less and talking more. They go to dinner, to the movies, to the bookstore. It’s boring and normal and Sam loves every second of it.

She’s charming and delicate and witty. She makes him laugh. She’s holding his hand while she dances and sings in the isle at the midnight viewing of The Rocky Horror Picture Show.

She’s a terrible choice for his life, she’s afraid of everything; spiders, big dogs, horror movies, meteorites hitting the earth. He can’t help but feel a thrill run up his spine when she walks closer to him at night, finding a warm, safe place at his side, under his arm.

--

When she works up the nerve to sleep in her own house for the first time since her brother died, Sam stays with her. They spend most of the night in the kitchen talking about tv shows from their childhood and where they’d travel if they could go anywhere in the world.

“My grandmother left me this house,” she smiles softly sitting next to him at the dining room table. “When I first moved in it felt like coming home.”

“It doesn’t anymore?”

Sam’s ears perk up when she tells him she thinks it’s haunted.

“It’s strange, Wes loved it here, he’d spend every Friday night with me. Sam...I still see him sometimes, I know it sounds crazy but when I was here yesterday it’s like I could feel him. And I have these dreams, vivid fucking dreams that I swear are real. “You probably think I’m nuts, huh?”

“You never know.” He nods. “But I don’t think you’re nuts.”

She’s got this happy, tired grin on her face when Sam kisses her for the first time. Just the press of his lips, unobtrusive and sweet.

She laughs against his mouth, pulls away and laughs out loud.

“I’m sorry,” shaking her head she reaches for his hand. “You just make me really happy Sam, that’s all. I haven’t felt like it was ok to be happy for a long time.”

“I know what you mean.” He leans in to kiss her again and this time he laughs too.

--

It’s late, they’d been to a movie and had a few drinks and end up making out on her front porch like teenagers. Sam unceremoniously dry humps her, the two of them fully clothed as he grinds the bulge in his pants between her legs.

“Take me inside.” She pants, his mouth sealing over hers before she can even finish.

“You sure you want me to stay?” He double checks, big, warm thumbs rubbing over both her cheeks.

“I’m sure.”

They make it as far as the living room couch.

Sam paws at her jeans, yanking her panties off right along with them. She’s still standing when he drops to his knees and buries his head between her legs.  

She makes these little sounds, moaning his name with a fist full of his hair as he tongues her clit.

“Sam,” she tugs at his hair, bringing him back up to kiss her.

She’s breathless and the sound of his name coming from her mouth is something he’s imagined for a while. He slides his tongue into her mouth, swallowing whimpers as she tastes herself on his mouth.

Sitting him on the couch, she takes a condom and rolls it on his swollen erection before crawling into his lap. Sam just watches, making little grunts of approval when she reaches for his cock, wrapping her hand around the shaft as she presses the throbbing head of his cock against her hot, wet little pussy. She screws her eyes shut, soft hands grasping at his shoulders as she sinks down on him so slowly, inch by inch until her resolve falters and she sinks down, taking him all the way into her belly.

Her whole body moves up and down as she fucks herself on his cock, kissing him desperately.

“Oh God, Sam,” she moans as he pulls at her hips, holding her place. Sam can feel her stretched wide open, the most delicate part of her shivering on his cock. All he has to do is look down to get an eye full of her slick cunt stuffed full. They both start to move, Sam fucking up into her with the soft slap of their bodies coming together.

Between kisses, she says his name again and again, like a mantra while her curvy little hips work back and forth on his dick. Sam fucks her faster, watching her tits bounce, nipples grazing his chest as her pussy takes every inch.

Without a second of hesitation, he lifts her off his cock, ignoring her protest as he spreads her open underneath him and eases his cock back inside. His rhythm grows faster, skin smacking skin with every stroke. He doesn’t say a word that first time, just listens to his own grunts, her pants and the pornographic sounds of sex that seem obscenely loud. It takes everything in him to stay on task, every ounce of self-control not to come like a kid on prom night before she’s satisfied.

She comes around him, shaking like a one-woman earthquake under the weight of his body. Sam follows right behind her, coming with his face pressed into her neck, making embarrassing desperate sounds.

Sam holds her, soft nude thighs laying over his hips. He whispers things he knows he shouldn’t say, he tells her that he hasn’t wanted anyone as much as he wants her.

He almost tells her about Jess.

When he wakes up the next morning they’re still on the couch. The absurdly thin quilt he pulled off the armchair is barely covering her ass but her sleep-warm body is pressed into his side, calm in the lull of sleep.

Sam thinks he could be happy here in this house with her.

The time comes, as it always does, for he and Dean to move on. Sam is standing on her porch with a backpack slung over his shoulder, trying to find the right words for goodbye when she takes his hand between hers and says the magic word.

“Stay.”

--

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[echogears]

Uniting and reuniting

With the news of blood in the forest, frequent sightings of Kuiper droids, and several signs of Ra moon’s signature acidic attacks, to say that the Galactadroids were a little on edge would be an understatement. To most, it would seem that they were overreacting, but the group knew all too well what these were signs of. With their enemy being less careful about hiding himself, it meant that he was being cocky- that he had some kind of plan that he was ready to put into motion.

It was a lot to worry about, since Ra moon could strike from anywhere and they had no idea where he was- Astrid’s ability to sense him wasn’t very precise, just enough to tell her what land mass he was on. So they knew he hadn’t yet fled, but it wasn’t like this was news- Ra moon usually saved his cowardice as a last resort.

In any case, these circumstances were a very good reason to be ill at ease, and when a stranger suddenly popped into the middle of their living room while everyone was trying to relax, it was more than enough to ruffle some feathers. Pluto even hissed.

“Well, so it would seem that the Universe was right- not that I ever doubted her.” The stranger crossed her arms, and despite having her eyes hidden, it was obvious to see that she was being rather judgmental of them. “None of you are doing your job. Do you think that just because the Universe doesn’t watch us when she rests that this means you can do as you please?! I expected better from you all.”

With Pluto looking like he was about to turn things violent, Terra stood and stepped between them.

“Hang on, let’s calm down. I’m assuming you’re a fellow space robot?”

“Of course I am, or are you so far removed from your own culture that you can’t tell one of your own?”

“I simply didn’t want to assume. Multiversal mishaps have been common here.”

The stranger glanced in the direction of the room that Gemini and the second Pluto shared. “I can tell.”

Terra, still standing between Pluto and the stranger, continued. “Okay.. so you are clearly here for a reason, correct? Why don’t we all relax and discuss this like adults. Judging from the context of what you said, I would have to assume that you are here on business from the Universe, so it must be important, and I don’t want that to be held up by bickering.”

“Well, it seems that you’ve become much more suited to your leadership role, at the very least.” She brushed off her coat. “My name is Theia, I am the right hand of the Universe, and I was sent here in search of Sun star. Where is he?”

This time, not even Terra was enough to keep Pluto quiet. “What do you want with him?! If anyone’s not been doing his job it’s him! He’s part of the reason we’re stuck here in the first place- ‘cause it’s not like we all collectively decided that we wanted to shirk our fucking work!”

“Don’t talk to me like that. I have my gripes with Sun star’s behaviour as well. In fact, the only one who has been doing their job on this planet is Astrid.” Astrid, who had just left her room, perked a bit when she heard her name, and sat down quietly to listen to what was being discussed.

“However, as much as I disapprove of your actions.. the Universe is showing you all some mercy by allowing your mission to continue. Yes, I am fully aware of your intentions to save the humans. My purpose here now will help you do that.”

That was enough to keep Pluto quiet- mostly, though he still grumbled something unintelligible.

After everyone got together- including Charon and Astrid- they all made their way over to where Sunstar was located, about a quarter mile away.With Theia and Terra leading the pack, Charon helped to keep his big brother calm, holding his hand and keeping him grounded.

Upon their arrival, Sunstar looked at them steadily, as if recognizing them from far off. He seemed quite nervous.

“Sun star. I have a gift for you, from the Universe.” She held out a small, mysterious cube.

“What does it do?” He asked, looking wary, as if expecting his punishment to have arrived.

While Pluto grumbled some more, Theia ignored him and spoke on. “This will safely extract the evil energy from your body, and repair the glitches that Ra moon made. You will be healed. The Universe wishes it.”

“But I.. I thought the Universe was deep in slumber?”

"The Universe has finally awakened now, and is beginning to take action against the wrongs that have been committed in her absence. She recognizes that you being led astray was not entirely your fault, and wants to give you another chance. It’s up to you to take it.”

Sun star simply stared at her as if she had sprouted an extra head. “Wait... but.. but I thought that there was no way to fix what is wrong with me.”

Theia curled her lip in annoyance and disgust. “Do not underestimate her. The Universe has no limitations in what she can do upon her own realm. This is your chance, Sun star, to continue your life as it seems right to you. I strongly urge you to take it.”

Sun star looked up at Terra, apprehension still in his eyes. Terra closed most of the distance between them, placing a hand on Sun star’s shoulder. “You can trust her, Sun star. None of us are here to hurt you. It... it will take time for the wounds you have opened to heal, but the first step to making things right is taking advantage of this. You would be a great help in our mission against Ra moon, and then... then I am sure that you could go back to your own job, if you wish.”

Sunstar sighed, looking a little shaken. “Terra, I.. before Ra moon, before the Stardroids.. I knew nothing. It was me and the Universe and nothing else. And while I felt fulfilled, working for the one that created me.. it was a lonely existence. 

“But... that changed when Ra moon took me in, and even if his bond with me was a lie.. my bonds with you all were not. I... you are all quite dear to me in a way that I cannot quite express, and my feelings for you all are just as deep as my regret for the atrocities that have occurred at my hand. Even if I am unable to earn your forgiveness.. I will accept the opportunity before me, but I want to help you on your mission. I don’t... I don’t think I could bear to be alone again, Terra. Not to mention.. well, Milenia..”

Terra and Sun star shared a look of understanding before the latter of the two turned back to Theia. “Okay, I’m ready.” He announced, taking off his helmet to reveal flowing locks of flaming orange hair.

Theia sighed, though her annoyance wasn’t quite so convincing. “About time. Now, just stand there and relax. You won’t feel a thing.” She held out the cube to him again, and he took it.

Right away, the cube sprang to life. It sprouted spindly, metallic legs like a spider of some sort and crawled up his arm, over his shoulder and on to the back of his head. Then it stayed there, resting against the back of his head for a moment, glowing and humming. Sunstar couldn’t feel it, but a nearly microscopic needle of some sort shot out and entered his head.

From there, his body went slack, but stayed upright, even as his eyes grew dim. He stayed this way for several long, tense minutes while everyone looked on in wonder. Then, when it was all over, he stood up straight again, his eyes gaining the life in them, though he stood stock-still otherwise.

When the cubic device was finished, it retracted its needle and crawled down his back and leg, scuttling along the forest floor until it stopped in front of Theia, who picked it back up again. “How do you feel?” She inquired.

Sun star stood quiet for a moment, looking at his former team with tears in his eyes. “Clean.” He choked out, his fans whirring as he became more and more emotional. “Clean, and.. in control. In a way that I’d almost forgotten.” As he spoke, tears became to stream down his face, and try as he might to wipe them away, he openly wept before the Galactadroids, falling to his knees as he seemed overcome with emotion. “I’m... I’m so sorry.. I’m so sorry for everything.. for trusting him.. for hurting you.. I’m so sorry.”

Terra stepped forward, kneeling in front of him. “We’ve all done something to hurt one another. Stand up, and join us on the path to betterment.” He held out a hand, which Sun star took, and together the two stood up, still holding each other’s hands. Then, in a move that made Terra’s team step forward reflexively, Sun star pulled Terra into a hug and proceeded to sob.

The two stood there, hugging. Then, Charon walked over and joined them. Then Mercury, then Uranus, then Mars, until they were all standing in one group embrace. Some of the other Galactadroids began to cry a little as well. Even Pluto looked a little solemn.

While the Galactadroids and Sunstar were doing that, Astrid approached Theia. “Um, excuse me..?”

“Yes?” She was fiddling a bit with the cube.

“Is... is it still usable?”

“What?”

“The cube. Can it be used again?”

“Of course.”

“..Could I borrow it? My... my brother, he.. I want him to get a second chance at life too. He’s my brother and I know he’s failed miserably at his job and hurt so many people but I.. he was all I had in the beginning, I’m only here because of him. I still care about him and I want him to get a second chance too, since nobody was there to guide him. After.. after the Universe went into slumber, he-”

“I know what happened. I recorded it in my historical logs.” She handed the cube over to Astrid. “Protect this cube, Astrid, or it could prove disastrous for you, and I refuse to clean up the resulting mess.”

“O-of course, Theia. I wouldn’t dream of letting that happen. I just want to help my brother before he gets himself killed.” She took the cube, and despite changing hands, it remained inanimate and still in her grasp. Being about the size of a tangerine, it was pretty easy to conceal away. “Nothing will happen to it.”

Theia sighed, looking off into the horizon. “I hope you’re right.”

In the distance, thunder rumbled ominously.

[kpopandangel]

Haircuts and Spiders

Summary: Easiest way to get Angel to like you again after you leave her out of something big having to do with the group mates? Save her from a spider she’s afraid of

Warnings: None

Word Count: 988

A/N: I’m sorry it’s not as good as you guys probably thought it would be. I’m trying to find things to type about with them. Slow process sorting through so much mini stories. Please feel free to say hi or ask questions or request something! I always enjoy listening to what others have to say! 

 Bedhead galore, Angel rubbed at her eyes as she was gently pulled out of her bedroom by the laughter of 9 boys. She gave a yawn and rubbed at the other eye while stepping through the doorway to see what all the commotion was about. The sound immediately stopped as 9 heads turned to face her, wide eyed and worried. “Did we wake you Noona?” Jisung asked gently, tilting his head at her.     She nodded her head and started rubbing at both eyes, ignoring the funny looks she was getting from a couple of the others. She was afraid to talk in case her voice cracked or did something weird around them to make them think she could be sick after the hard work she’d put in the last week with training and promotions. Minnho immediately ran to her and wrapped his arm around her, cooing at the adorable look she was giving them.      The two sat down on the couch next to Woojin who started unraveling bits of her hair to help possibly tame it for her. “Thanks.” She whispered, barely able to get any sound passed her lips from using her voice after a night of sleep.     When she finally was able to look up at her boys without drowsiness in her gaze, she stared at them in confusion. “Oi!” She yelped out suddenly, earning surprised yelps from a couple of the others.     They stared at her in curiosity as she frowned. “Why wasn’t I told about salon day?!” She whined at Chan, thinking it was his doing.     He shrugged his shoulders awkwardly and coughed into his hand, hoping to ignore the woman’s stare as each boy looked around at each other, wondering if their new hairstyles were that crazy to her. “Noona? Is it that bad?” Jeongin asked with a pout.     She blinked in confusion a moment before she realize what she’d said and shook her head vigorously. “Oh no! No, sorry that’s not what I meant Jeonginnie! You all look amazing. It just would’ve been nice to know we were getting our hair done.....” She said, mumbling the last part with a glare in the leader’s direction.     He shrugged his shoulders.     Woojin ran a hand through her freshly detangled hair and chuckled a little when she gave him a huff of annoyance. “Angel-Noona, you’re hair should never chance color. It’s pretty the way it is.” He told her, almost immediately getting a glare from the redhead.     She swatted at his hand and gave a small sigh before standing up to head into her room. “I’m going back into the room. Be sure to tell me if you go anywhere this time?” She asked them, giving pointed stares to Woojin and Chan who pouted at her sudden sour mood.     When the door shut, all eyes turned to Chan who raised his shoulders in defense. “Hey, I didn’t know she’d want to join us! I thought she liked her hair just the way it was!” He defended, holding his hands up so they couldn’t come after him.     Minho pointed at her door and gave him a frown. “She probably wanted to spend time with us. Or maybe there was something she wanted to do that might not have included dying her hair like what we did with ours.” He suggested, watching the frown appear on his leader’s face.     Just when the awkward silence was about to become unbearable, a blood curdling scream sounded in Angel’s room. Chan, followed by Changbin and Minho rushed into the room with makeshift weapons of a remote, book and hairbrush. They looked around wildly until a blur of red latched onto the leader’s frame. “KILL IT! KILL IT NOW!” She screamed in terror, pointing to the corner of the room.     Chan dropped the remote he was carrying to catch the wild 23 year old and stared at where she was pointing. “What is it?” He wondered, holding the woman tighter when she hid her face in his neck.     She whimpered quietly and started to try and pushed herself through the group and out of the room. “Get the spiderrrr!” She whined, looking up at the other two with tears in her eyes.     Changbin immediately stepped into the room to find the source of her panic, seeing the quarter sized arachnid stuck to the corner of her ceiling across from her bed. “I’ll get it, hang on Noona!” He called over to her, winding his arm back to throw the book toward the thing.     She flinched when she heard the thud of the book hitting the wall and peeked out from Chan’s neck to see what had happened. “You’re cleaning that up right?” She asked seriously when she saw the gross splatter of the dead spider on the book.     Changbin rolled his eyes and snorted softly before getting the hug he wanted from the woman. “I mean sure, if this is what I get for saving you from the spider and cleaning the book.”  He sighed out, earning a smile from his favorite member.     She then stepped toward Minho and gave him a large hug too. “And thank you for helping save me from the spider.” She told him, gaining a grin as he hugged her tight and started backing them both up and away from the leader who was about to pummel him for stealing the redhead.     “HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO TELL YOU TO STOP STEALING HER FROM ME!” He finally roared, earning laughs from the rest of the members while Chan chased Minho around the dorm house,     Woojin stepped toward Angel and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “So about the salon thing?” He asked quietly.     She shook her head. “You all look amazing. And it’s really fine. I understand. Just shocked is all. You guys look so sexy now.” She replied just as quietly, winking up at him when his cheeks started reddening from her compliment.

[magic-and-moonlit-wings]

Chapter 5: On The Subject Of Expectations

Becoming The Mask 

"Have you ever even held a sword before?" Draal demanded the next night.

"I'm more of a knife guy."

Jim could pass that off as a cooking joke if questioned, but it was true. The scale of the blade he had to work with now was throwing him off almost as badly as fighting in humanoid form.

He was confident enough that Draal wouldn't kill him – or, at least, that Blinky and AAARRRGGHH wouldn't stand idly by and let Draal kill him – that he offered the sword to the troll.

"Show me how I'm supposed to hold it, then."

Draal's eyes widened and he actually took half a step back.

"Ah, Master Jim," Blinky cautioned from the sidelines, "only a Trollhunter can wield the Sword of Daylight."

Jim ignored this and held the sword flat across both hands. Draal took it, slowly, cautiously, with more fear and reverence in his expression than Jim thought the sword really warranted even if it was magic. When Draal raised the blade above his head, it shone blue, and vanished from his hand in a burst of glowing smoke. It reappeared in Jim's hand, like the amulet had when he first tried to leave it with Stricklander.

"The sword is bound to the amulet," said Blinky. "It is not that only the Trollhunter may wield it, but that only the Trollhunter can."

Draal and Jim both winced.

"I'm … sorry," said Jim.

Draal sighed heavily. He walked over to the side of the Forge. Jim thought at first that he was storming off to be alone with his thoughts, but Draal came back with a double-pronged spear, or maybe a pole arm, from the weapons rack. He tested a few strikes against the empty air, and then pointed it at Jim.

"Your blade is but an extension of your body," he said sternly. "And your body, an extension of your eyes. Mimic my movements, Trollhunter."

"I'm almost impressed," said Draal, a few nights later. "I didn't think a fleshbag could survive this level of pummelling."

"You actually … getting tired?" Jim tried to taunt. It was ruined by his wheezing. Draal had successfully run him over three times so far in this match. "Admit it … I'm … wearing you down."

Draal laughed at him.

"Trollhunter!" A shouting woman ran into the Forge, waving her arms above her head. "TROLLHUNTER!" Blinky and AAARRRGGHH rushed to her.

"What is it? Speak, Bagdwella!"

She panted. Jim walked over, trying not to stumble. Draal gave him a sideways glance that could be creatively interpreted as concern.

"Rr … ruh … rogue gnome!"

"So, I learned something interesting about the Amulet last night. Apparently the teleportation thing it was doing is only if the Trollhunter rejects it. If somebody steals it, it doesn't just poof back to me."

"Someone stole the Amulet?"

"I got it back." He'd tempted the creature out of the hole with a candy bar, and stuffed it into a sack and stuffed the sack into a battered metal lunchbox. In order to retrieve her own things, the shopkeeper had been willing to have the wall carved open to get to the gnome's stash. "I'm just saying, that's kind of a counter-intuitive design feature. Thought it might come in handy when Bular kills me and the Amulet picks somebody else."

"Bular is not going to kill you."

It was comforting to hear Stricklander say that. Hearing that stern, parental tone, Jim could almost believe that he could turn to the more experienced Changeling for protection from Gunmar's son, and actually expect to receive that protection.

After school, he was faced with the gnome problem again.

It was secured in its box and very loudly unhappy about it. It had given up shouting and crashing into the walls, and was now singing a lament to the accompaniment of its odd guitar, or whatever the instrument was.

Jim had never had a pet, but the gnome's earlier behaviour reminded him of things he'd heard about ferrets. He was going to feel bad over killing the cute, clever little thief. He really should have done it already, but … as one being that trolls considered vermin to another, he wasn't sure he could go through with it. He hadn't directly, personally killed anything since leaving the Darklands.

He put it off by doing homework and reading more troll lore. Eventually the gnome went quiet. Jim thought it fell asleep.

Considering he had compared it to a ferret earlier, he should have expected it to escape.

Considering how up-and-down his luck had been lately, he really should have expected it to get out his window, drop off the porch roof, and make a run for Toby's house across the street.

Having known each other for ten years, Jim and Toby tended to let themselves in to each other's houses rather than knocking and waiting. Jim went right after the gnome, praying Toby was out and Nana Domzalski was immersed in one of her shows.

He almost caught it in the front hall. It darted into a rain boot that was lying on its side. Jim picked the boot up, but the gnome popped right back out as he was trying to cover the top of the boot with his forearm. It jumped to the ground and he turned the boot over, slamming it down like a glass on a spider, and missing the gnome by a hair.

In the kitchen, he dropped to all fours to follow it under the table and wondered if he should risk switching forms for faster reflexes. He could switch back if he heard Nana or Toby coming.

Before he could make a decision, the gnome jumped from the chairs it had been hopping back and forth between onto Jim's head, yanking his hair on landing, and then onto the floor and scuttled behind the fridge. Without AAARRRGGHH, Jim couldn't move something that heavy.

Well, maybe in his armour he could – he had suspicions it increased his strength, considering the size of the sword – but did he really need a magical suit of armour just to catch one lousy crafty gnome?

He waited by the fridge for it to come out again.

"Jimmy!" Nana Domzalski greeted him. Because of course she was here, in her own house, in the late evening, on a weeknight. "What a nice surprise. I think Toby-Pie is upstairs."

"Thanks, Mrs Domzalski," he said as easily as he could. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the gnome make a break for it and, conveniently and terribly, run up the quarter round of the staircase. "I'll just head on up."

Toby essentially had the entire upper story to himself. He was in his bedroom, staring enchanted at the gnome, which was playing its guitar.

"Aren't you just the best tiny musician in the world?" he whispered. "With such a cute pointy hat –" It bared its fangs at him and he recoiled, falling back on his bed and scrambling away. "And pointy teeth!"

"Toby!" Damn secrecy! Jim was pretty sure gnomes were carnivorous; he didn't want to drag his best friend to the hospital with mysterious bite wounds!

"Jim, did you see that?" The gnome ran again with a chittering giggle and disappeared into a pile of video games. "It was just there! Like a tiny lawn gnome, with a guitar, and fangs!"

"I saw it too, Tobes."

The undercover thing would be to lie and try to grab the gnome without Toby noticing. But Toby had seen the gnome. He hadn't had his phone out to record the musical performance, but he couldn't be put off by being told he'd imagined it. It would be easier to catch with Toby's help. Jim just had to keep Toby from finding out anything else and from comparing notes with Elijah Pepperjack in the aftermath.

The guitar started playing in the dollhouse. Jim held his finger to his lips and Toby nodded. As quietly as they could, they approached the dollhouse and peered into the tiny windows.

"Aw," Toby crooned. "He made a friend." The gnome was serenading a Sally-Go-Back action figure.

"When I say so," said Jim, "you pull the dollhouse open and I'll grab him."

"Come on, Jim, look at the little guy! He sounds so happy. Soul of an artist in that one."

It did seem docile for the moment …

"I just don't think it's safe," was the best Jim could offer without breaking at least one of his covers.

"I'm gonna name him Gnome Chompsky," said Toby.

"You're not serious. You're not keeping it."

"Man, I wish we could tell people about this, but poor Chompsky'd probably bolt again if too many 'giants' like us started crowding him, am I right?"

"You're actually serious."

"Come on, Jim! This is the coolest thing that's ever happened to me! I promise if he bites me I'll drop him down the garbage disposal and you can say you told me so."

Jim returned the empty sack and lunchbox to Bagdwella later that night and let her assume he was, indeed, a 'gnome slayer'.

Previous Chapter (Kanjigar, Vendel, the Heartstone, and Draal)

Table of Contents

Next Chapter (A visit to the Janus Order)

If you’re confused about the ‘ten years’ comment, Toby says in the birthday episode, “I had just moved in to the house across the street, and Jim’s dad got him this sweet bike kit for his fifth birthday ... and then he just took off.” So, in canon, Toby and Jim met when they were five. 

I HAVE FEELINGS about the scene where Jim and Draal are training together and Jim offers Draal a chance to try out the Sword of Daylight and it vanishes out of Draal’s hand and Jim tries to apologize for the magic sword’s behaviour. [My impressions are detailed here.]

I thought about killing Gnome Chompsky off, to demonstrate the difference in character between Changeling!Jim and canon!Jim, but that scene stopped working when I actually got into Jim’s motives and feelings, so this happened.

[centipedall]

City Slickers 2

The weirdest thing has been happening in the shipping yard over the past week. Unscheduled crates started appearing on boats. The captains were adamant that they were supposed to carry the crates, but couldn’t remember anything about them. And when the crates were opened, they found taxidermied fetal organisms. Overnight, the fetal things disappeared, with web-like trails leading out of the crate. And so the City Slickers were on the prowl.

Abby had grown used to the burn scars that dotted her face and arms. In all honesty, they were kind of cool. When her and Johnny had killed that thing in the sewers, it was awesome. And then when her and Aaron had gone up against the big bee-thing, they had proven useful. Apparently the five-foot five woman was “intimidating” now. She was using that intimidating factor to get into the shipping yard right now.

“Listen, guy. My boss is, uh, how do you say… important. And he really wants me to get into that shipping yard. So, how about you move aside.” She swept her arm out to the side, making sure to show the two-inch in diameter burn scars on the underside of her arm.

“Ma’am, I can’t let you in.” The man in the front booth sounded exasperated. His features were long, made longer by a tiring day. Poor guy had probably been pushing away the news all day. She knew he’d had to deal with Abby and Jerry for an hour now.

Abby was having trouble connecting with the guy. She had trouble connecting with a lot of people. Time to tag out.

Jerry jumped in. “Hey bud. It’s been a long day, right? Just… just go home, man. It’s covered.”

“Somehow, I don’t believe-” Gunshots rang out into the night.

“Well, that’s our cue!” Abby cheerfully got out a pair of bolt cutters and chopped through the chain-link fence. This was going to be hard to explain to the bosses. Collateral damage was docked from their paychecks. Abby and Jerry slipped through, barely registering the other man’s protests.

Jerry looked around, his steely brown eyes scanning the surrounding area. “The gunshots were that way. I suggest going there first.” He pointed to the southwest, marked by two large cranes that looked to be within twenty feet of one another. Abby quickly agreed, and the two started navigating the maze of rusty shipping crates.

At about midnight, the two were around the corner from the cranes. The dim lighting destroyed the shadows’ proportions, creating ungainly silhouettes. Abby stopped for a moment, moving her arms and legs while standing in place, exactly like a child would. Her shadow reacted accordingly, creating all kinds of new shapes. Another shadow appeared behind her. Abby didn’t take much notice of it until she realized Jerry was around the corner.

When she turned around, the lights drowned out the creature’s features. As it lamely shuffled forward, she saw it. The thing was humanoid, in the same way that an embryo is. It had two large eyeholes covered with a thin film. As it took another step forward, fluid within the holes sloshed. Its mouthless head appeared to be grafted to the body with some kind of green glue. The abdomen of the thing appeared to be a normal human’s, although in places the skin was replaced with film. Its left arm had no fingers, while its right was twice as long as the left. As it walked, Abby could see that its right leg was ruined. All the flesh on the leg appeared to have been moved down to the foot, creating an ungainly and bumpy surface to walk on.

Abby stumbled back, hands reaching for her knife. The fetus thing took two steps in quick succession. Abby kept backpedaling, only to stumble into a crate. It lifted its long arm, and prepared to strike at her. Then the arm suddenly stopped. The thing tried to pull it back, but it wouldn’t work. As Abby shifted, she saw that the taxidermied fetus was stuck on a series of thin strings. When she moved out of the way, she saw more strings surrounding the creature. It turned towards her, getting wrapped in more of the web-like filament. It took one more step, then tripped on a pole sticking up from the ground. The strings held, and kept the now immobilized sloshing specter off the ground.

Abby managed to pull her knife out of her pocket, and thanked her luck. She called for Jerry and walked closer to the fetus. Abby had just started examining it when the strings, all at once, moved six feet away from her. A split-second later, a massive Spider landed on the thing.

The arachnoid horror quickly severed the webs around the creature before sinking its fangs into the fetus’s eyeholes. A slurping sound erupted from the Spider for a moment, and the creature’s corpse was dropped on the ground.

“Ugh. S’lalan is getting sloppy. That one was still wiggling.” The voice- a stringy, reverberating sound- appeared to have come from the Spider. It turned around, twelve legs clacking on the cement.

The creature was taller than Abby by about two inches. It had a tan exoskeleton, intermixed with patches of black skin. The Spider’s head was about the size of an association football, and was the same shape as well. What appeared to be hundreds of eyes, like molten orbs of gold with pupils, grew out of the Spider’s “skull.” At points, they merged with each other, letting tiny black pupils zoom around. The largest spot on the head not covered in eyes was the mouth. It constantly vomited out silk, which one of three pairs of mandibles quickly wove into a web. Another mandible pair had lines of web strung between them, while the third pair was relaxed. The opisthosoma of the Spider was like a larger version of the head. It was covered in spinnerets, all constantly producing masses of silk. Next to each spinneret was a small pair of legs that wove the silk into a line of web. A third leg threw the web line out into the surrounding area.

“Well then. How are you doing, Abby?” it said, placing a considerable emphasis on the “Abby.”

With a good look at its face, Abby saw that it wasn’t talking- at least, not how she did it. The third pair of mandibles was plucking at the silk hung between the second pair of mandibles, making noises that kind of coincided with human voices.

“Funny guy. I used to be surprised when giant spiders knew my name, but it’s gotten old. If I have this right, you’re just a poor spider-thing that needed somewhere to hide. Except, oh no! Your food supply has woken up! Well, bud, we got this under control. If you would kindly leave…?” Finally, a sapient! It felt so great to use sarcasm and have a paranormal terror from beyond the stars understand it!

“It is not just my food. Jerry should be learning that soon.” Screams sounded out. “You should not go help him. It is not a good idea.”

Another arachnoid shape lumbered in. While the first Spider looked graceful, almost elegant on its eight thin legs, the second one was a bulky, nightmarish figure. It was the same height as Abby, but had a lot more mass. The thing had at least seventeen long, thick legs jutting out from its body. It’s eyeless head, mounted on a foot-long neck, had a massive mouth that encompassed about three-quarters of its head. The mouth was filled with hundreds of long, needle-sharp teeth and slightly less glowing green eyes. Abby could see a green liquid sloshing around within the hole. The Spider was covered in flabby brown skin, with millions of small stiff hairs poking out of it. The creature, for all of its bulk, moved around in erratic motions. The legs all moved independently, causing movement to be inefficient and ungainly. It looked at the other Spider- the Weaving Spider- with an emotion that almost signaled desire.

Jerry was stuck to one of the legs, hung high in the air. His body had several of the hairs stuck in it, and there was a noticeable reddening of the skin around the penetration points. He screamed again, scratching at the hairs.

“Hi Jerry. You are looking uncomfortable there. Um, bud? Do you mind dropping him?” The Weaver’s voice had the same words a question should, although it was the same stringy monotone.

The other Spider, the Hunter, flicked the leg Jerry was attached to. He was thrown off, head over heels. Abby ran to where Jerry landed and pulled him up.

“You’re a stupid bug. You probably didn’t know this, but anything that attacks an operative is instantly marked for extermination. And if you hadn’t noticed, we’ve been killing weird shit all over this town for three years now. So believe me when I say that if you don’t leave this shipping yard right now, you and your… uh… brother(?) are going to be squashed like the bugs you are.” Abby felt pretty damn powerful as she talked down to the five-ten monstrosity and its mouthy accomplice.

“All we need to do is make a little call to- oh fuck me.” Abby waved her phone at the Weaver for all of half a second before it zipped out of her hands. It clattered on the floor before a long leg stomped it into pieces.

“It’s a good thing my food got ‘out of control.’ My… brother was getting bored with the boxed meals. I think he wanted something a little warmer. A little faster.” The mandibles pulled the webbing between them up, creating a semicircular shape not dissimilar to a smile. “Twenty seconds. Get going.”

The Hunting Spider bent its neck towards them. It now projected the same emotion of desire towards Abby. She sprinted away. Behind her, Jerry screamed. Scuttling noises erupted behind her. The screaming didn’t stop, even as the Hunting Spider ran past him.

The labyrinthine mess of shipping crates directed her this way and that. Before Abby knew it, she had hit a dead end. She could hear the Hunting Spider skittering on the walls just around the corner. Abby feebly hit the wall, and felt something. There were ladder rungs on the crates.

She quickly pulled herself up the three crates, before looking back down. She felt a surge of nausea. Looks like her fear of heights were coming back. “Thought the therapy got rid of that.” She muttered.

Wind coursed through her short hair. Abby thought she could feel the crates shifting beneath her. The metal shook again, much more noticeably this time. A telltale skitter was not close behind her.

“Oh shit.” Abby started running again. She leaped off the edge of the crate, barely grasping on to the next. She could’ve sworn it moved a little bit to help her get ahold. The Hunter was not far behind her. As Abby climbed up, she noticed that the area where this all started was not too far away. The crane’s arm was only a little bit further. Following it down, she also noticed Jerry was climbing up the crane’s ladder.

They connected eyes for the briefest instant, and Abby instantly knew the plan. Just a variation on Plan 4X52. Easy. Abby stopped and turned around as the Hunting Spider, in all its leggy glory, clambered up onto the crate. Green liquid dripped from its mouth, burning through the metal below it.

Abby had fought these kind of things before. The thing was big and tough, but it had no motor control. All she needed to do was evade. All she needed to do was wait for Jerry. All she needed to do was not be killed.

As Abby settled into an evasion stance, a thought crossed her mind. “Hey, dickweed. I hope you don’t go Bishounen on me any time soon.”

It’s mouth yawned open in response. The eyes blinked twice in unison.

“I don’t know what the fuck you’re trying to tell me.” Abby muttered. She beckoned towards the creature twice in an overly dramatic fashion, laughing a little at the immaturity of it.

“If you’re gonna die, go out with style.”

The monster scuttled towards her, caustic venom flying from its mouth. It slammed three legs down, but Abby had already rolled under it. The strike had punctured a hole through the crate’s metal, and the creature struggled to take the legs out. As Abby finished the roll on the other side of the monster, it had pulled one leg out of its hole. It used the momentum from doing so to pull the other leg out, then whipped its head around towards her. Venom flew through the air, and Abby ducked under it. The Spider then swiped low at her with a leg, followed by a stomp. Abby hopped the leg before twisting to the side.

Instead of pulling the leg out, the Hunter initiated two jabs, a swipe to the right, and a stomp. Abby again tried rolling under, but she collided with one of the legs still on the ground. Immediately, the hairs stuck to her. Abby screamed in pain, and madly scratched at them. In the second that she took to deal with the pain, she was stomped on square in the stomach.

Abby was launched into the interior of the empty crate. She picked herself up and looked above. The crate began to shudder as the Spider began frantically stomping. A flurry of legs kept punching holes through the ceiling. Although they didn’t reach far enough down to hurt Abby, they allowed the venom to get in.

She was too preoccupied with making sure the acidic substance didn’t land on her to notice that one of the legs had touched her. It stuck to Abby’s forearm and quickly lifted her up. Abby’s shoulder was pulled through the hole when Plan 4X52 went into action. The sound of grinding metal shrieked through the air, and the crate went flying. As it turns out, the massive metal claw on the crane had moved too fast for the Hunter to notice. The crate toppled end-over onto the cement, landing on top of the Spider.

Abby woke up screaming. Jerry had called the Slickers’ HQ and gotten some special EMTs on the scene the moment the crate fell. Her arm was trapped beneath the metal box. Unfortunately, it had to be severed at the shoulder. Jerry was treated for major rashes. The hairs appeared to be made of a substance similar to fiberglass. The Hunting Spider itself was clearly dead. Apparently, some extradimensional entities still need something that resembles a nervous system.

The taxidermied creatures stopped appearing after that, and the Weaving Spider was not seen again. Really, it was almost a footnote in the Slickers’ history, but for one thing. A note was found in the wreckage of the crate Abby and the Spider fought on. It read:

Thanks for getting that thing off my back. I think it was about ready to start hunting me. Hah- those guys, am I right? Anyways, I’m sorry about the arm and the rashes. It could have been done differently, but whatever. Too much work.

-Me

P.S.- When you get to the Party, tell the Lion I’m not gonna be there.

It seemed to be written in and made of some sort of silk.

[toxickimi]

Ch 3 Day in the Town

After breakfast Azumiral had gathered the four as well as some royal guards to the main entrance. "We will be going to the town square today. Please don't hesitate to purchase anything if you see something you like." "Won't Kimikyo and Kigra join us?" Piper spoke up, causing Azumiral's smile to fade. "Kigra is to be shadowing mother today and..it is forbidden for the young Kimikyo to leave the palace grounds. Now if you'll please." Azumiral turned before Piper spoke back up. "Young? She's twenty years old. She's an adult." Azumiral began to giggle. "Did we not mention this to you? We live thousands of years. She's practically a teenager to us." "Th-thousands...of years?" Piper looked at Azumiral. "We age until we're about twenty-five and then it slows down to an almost halt. Mother is five thousand years old." "What...about you and Kigra?" Preston spoke up, as the group finally began to leave. "Kigra is five hundred and I just turn six hundred and twenty-two not long ago. Kimikyo really is the youngest. Once she turns twenty-one she will be of age. This means she'll be able to marry...if she wants and maybe even unlock her true form." "True form?" Piper walked next to Azumiral. "Yes. What you've seen has been just a training transformation though it is likely she will keep that form there is a small chance it'll change."

As the group walked there was an awkward silence. It dawned on the four visitors they knew nothing of this place. Piper began whispering to Preston, convincing him to get close to Azumiral to learn what he could and Piper would get close to Kimikyo. Soon enough they were at the town square the had shops all around and in the center was a wishing fountain that had a phoenix on the center pillar. "What's with the bird?" Preston walked up to Azumiral as the other wandered around. "That is the phoenix. It's said that it can heal any wound with its tears and antidotes can be made out of its feathers. He breathes this beautiful hue of fire and his wings are powerful enough to put them out. There is only one in the whole world, no one else can turn into the great phoenix." Preston looked up at the statue. "Are there others like him?" Azumiral shook her head. "No just the phoenix...but its been gone for quite some time. No one knows where it is at..." "You called it a him a moment ago...why the sudden pronoun change?" Azumiral looked at the phoenix then at Preston before whispering. "Because he is my brother." She turned walking away to a shop with Preston following behind.

Piper find a book shop that sold note books and pens. She had grabbed a few before going to the check out. "That'd be two silver pieces." "Oh...all I have is this gold piece." The shop keep looked up at her. "That'll do fine." Piper handed the gold to the shop keep who gave her fifteen silver pieces back along with an exchange card. "You're not from around here. This will help you. Each kingdom has different currency and exchange rates. This is ours." "Oh thanks!" Piper took the change and the bag of items with her as she left the shop. She went back to the fountain where Preston and Azumiral were, both having bags in their hands. "Ah, I see you went to the book store." Azumiral smiled at her. "Yea, I got some notebooks and pencils." "If you wanted those, you could have asked. I have plenty extra from the princesses studies." "I'll have to keep that in mind." Piper smiled at Azumiral then looked over to see Danse walking back over to them empty handed. "Did you not find anything?" "There's nothing here that peaked my interest that a single gold piece could buy." Azumiral looked at him curiously. "Oh and what is it that you saw?" "Someone was selling cats but wanted three pieces." Danse led Azumiral over to the person selling the kittens. "I see...Danse, these are lion cubs. Do you truly want one?" Danse had thought for a moment before nodding. "I see. Such a big softy for a serious man." Azumiral pulled out five coins to buy the cub and enough food. "You'll want to speak to Kimikyo when we return. She'll have to show you the animal pens and she'll help you train it." "That would be greatly appreciated."

Maxson had found him self in a weapons shop. He had looked around for some time before seeing a simple knife. He also happened to look over and see a small wolf plush. He placed both on the counter. "That'll be five silvers. Would you like these gift wrapped?" "Just the toy." The shop keep wrapped the plush then placed both in a bag. Maxson soon joined the group. "What's you get?" Piper was trying to take a look in the bag, which annoyed Maxson. "If you need to know, I got a knife." "That makes sense." Piper shrugged it off before the group began walking back to the castle.

Once back at the castle Azumiral excused herself before returning shortly with Kimikyo. "Azumiral said we have a new member to the family?" Danse handed her the cub which caused Maxson to raise his eyebrow at his paladin. "I happen to have a soft spot for cats." "Except this is a lioness, not a simple house cat. You do know this correct?" Kimikyo held the cub while looking at Danse. "I'm aware." "Are you also aware you can't take her back with you?" "You're mother said we were allowed to come and go as we please. If it's alright with you Elder Maxson, may I come back her on my free time?" Maxson stared at Kimikyo though it looked as if he were looking at the cub. "As long as it doesn't interfere with your work soldier." Danse nodded to Maxson before Kimikyo led Danse and anyone else who followed to the animal pen. "This is where we keep the animals. We have seven mythicals and seven normal, well now eight." Kimikyo turned to see only Danse and Maxson. "I'll introduce you guys to the family." She handed Danse back the cub before heading to the animal feeding pen. "This is where we feed them and it looks like Vi and Brohm are here." The brown dire wolf looked up from the carcass it was eating them. "Brohm here is our oldest good boy. He was papa's and is currently going blind. Then there's my good boy. Vi! Come say hi." Creaking could be heard from the rafters as the giant Antilles pinktoe tarantula, the size of a full grown horse, made its way down the walls. "This is Vi and he loves meeting new people." Vi walked over to Danse and Maxson, raising one of its front legs up as if the shake hands.

Maxson hesitated for a long moment before reaching out to the spider. "Very...interesting." Danse tried his best to not show it but he was terrified of what stood before him. "I find him when he was a hatchling, his family was killed by poachers and he was about to die." Vi turned to Kimikyo patting her on the head before climbing back up. "He thinks he's human." She whispered to Maxson, before giggling. "Danse, the cub can come over here for food. It's where all carnivores eat." She led them over to a trough that had bones and meats in it. "You can pull from here while it's a cub but they carnoes do like to just like to dig in. So be careful if there's others here. The food gets refreshed once a day, and is slaughtered fresh daily. The left over meats are cleaned and boiled then sold to the fishermen. It makes great predator bait." She continued walking through the feeding pen. "Over here are for the horses but it looks like they are out for their daily run. Over there is the water hole." She pointed to a large watering tank. "It is filtered and cycled constantly so it's always fresh." The three of them began to leave the feeding pen, Kimikyo remaining silent as she led them to the grounds. "This is the training grounds. You are welcomed to bring the cub here anytime but be careful, Iza does like to be out here at night. He's got a temper and is overly protective. Most of our animals come back at night so over here are the sleeping quarters." She opened the other barn that was on the other end of the grounds. "When the cub gets bigger, you'll have to leave her here. Mama doesn't like large animals in the castle...not after what Rose did..." Kimikyo looked slightly embarrassed before showing Danse to the baby pen. "This is where the babies stay...we haven't had a baby in a while so I'll get it cleaned up for you with new bedding. Any questions?" Kimikyo turned to look at Danse and Maxson. "Who's Rose and what did she do?" Piper had appeared, following them half way through the tour. "Oh she's my black widow. She...she gets excited and chased the captain of the royal guard around wanting to play fetch but all he saw was a giant spider...heh. By the time we found the two Rose had him webbed up and cuddled. Luckily she left his head uncovered." "A...g-giant...sp-spider?" Piper went pale. "Two actually." Kimikyo smiled at Piper before talking to Danse and Maxson. "Currently we house and feed A cobra basilisk, two giant spiders, a griffin, a dragon, three stallions, four mares, and two dire wolves." Kimikyo stepped out of the barn seeing the horses returning with the trainers. "Princess Kimikyo, Ganon has been stubborn today. He really didn't want to listen." Kimikyo sighed, shaking her head. "That's a Friesian for you. I'll take him out riding once I change outfits. You can leave his saddle on." Kimikyo turned to look at the others. "Have you ever rode horses?" "We have none in our land." Kimikyo smiled before nodding. "Can you also leave Ai, Kana and Sky saddled and have a few leads on stand by." Kimikyo turned to the group before bowing. "A moment please. I'll have to change out of this dress. While away Sena will give you instructions on handling if you want to ride a horse."

Kimikyo had left to change into a long sleeve shirt that had loose fitting sleeves and a pair of skin tight pants that were tucked into her boots. "M'Lady only one wished to ride so we had sent the other two to the groomer." "Thank you Sena." Kimikyo looked over to see Piper sitting on Kana's back. "Nervous?" "A little." Kimikyo smiled as she climbed onto Ganon's saddle. "Sena are you leading Kana?" "I am, my lady." Kimikyo nodded and looked at Piper. "You have nothing to worry about our mares, Kana expesially, are gentle. It's are stubborn stallions you need to worry about." Kimikyo ruffled Ganon's mane which made him shake his head. Maxson and Danse stood silently, watching Sena lead Kana out of the barn. Kimikyo pulled back on Ganon's reins before he bolted forward out of the barn. Ganon kept running around the training grounds before looking over at Maxson who was watching closely. Ganon bucked up, neighing aggressively before charging at Maxson. "Ganon! Halt!" Kimikyo pulled the reins back, trying to stop Ganon. "Halt!! Heel!" She kept tugging back finally Ganon stopped, inches in front of Maxson. Ganon stomped his hoof on the ground, watching Maxson closely. Maxson didn't move from his spot only stared back at the stallion. The horse turned to his side, before taking off again. Sena watched the whole thing go down before whistling over to Kimikyo and Ganon. "My lady perhaps Miss Piper would like to go on a run with you two." Sena handed to lead rope over to Kimikyo who tied it to Ganon. "R-run? Kimikyo, Ganon took off way too fast and I'm still pretty nervous." "Don't worry Piper, Ganon loves Kana and listens to her. He won't out run her." Kana looked up at Ganon, neighing at him as if upset at him. Kana turned away from Ganon who followed her every movement. The two horses began to gallop lightly, causing Piper to giggle. "He's love stricken isn't he?" "Oh yes he is. It's his turn to mate with her this year. Normally Kana mates with one of the royal guards stallion but Ganon is finally at that age. So we're going to breed them." Piper and Kimikyo went a few laps around the training ground before taking the horses to the groomers. "So this is how they end their day? Pretty lucky." "No, they get groomed once a week but today just so happened to be that day." Kimikyo smiled at Piper as the two walked back to the castle, the guys already having gone in.

Sena had made his way to Aiko's study room where she was busy signing forms. "My queen Aiko. Sena is here to discuss news with you." Aiko's butler stood at the door waiting for Aiko's word. "If it's about the horses I don't care." "It's about Kimikyo, my queen." Sena bowed before Aiko nodded. "What is it? Did she find another pet?" "No, my queen. She took Ganon for a ride but in the midst of it he charged one of the men visiting." Aiko dropped her quill, placing her head in her hands. "Oh Devine, he's dead isn't he?" "No, my queen. Ganon had stopped and accepted him, while our young princess was riding." Aiko looked up at Sena, awestruck. "Are...are you certain?" "Yes, my queen. As you know Ganon doesn't ever take to new people and most would take cover seeing him charge but not this one. He stayed put while Kimikyo was attempting to stop Ganon." "And what of my daughter? Did she have anything to say?" Sena shook his head. "No but I'm sure she's aware of the approval." "Very well. For now we will keep an eye on the two. This may be very good news for us." Aiko smiled at Sena before dismissing him. Hannah, the butler, looked over at Aiko, smiling. "My queen, do you believe this is a good sign?" "It's a sign but you know how Kimikyo has been with men. Always so serious and uncaring." Hannah had sighed lightly. "Perhaps we shouldn't get our hopes." Aiko remained quiet for a moment before looking at Hannah. "Well...they will be gone soon enough...the portal will be moved in four days and that is when they will leave. Whether they come back or not is up to them. When is your next surgery Hannah?" "O-oh uhm..in two days, my queen." Aiko turned to Hannah. "This is your last one correct? Are you excited to be a full woman?" "I am...I finally feel completed." The two remained silent. "Feeling completed...do you think that is what Kimikyo wants? To feel completed?" "I'm unsure of what are young princess wants. However, I do know she wishes to train. Why not let one of those new comers teach her? Show her their ways. To better our bond with them but also give Kimikyo what she'd like." Aiko thought for a moment. "Very well, Hannah. Ask one of those men if they'd be willing and info Kimikyo once you get an answer."

[dontcallmejoel]

Flash grenade and sucker punch aside, Jesse’s done well for himself.two down immediately, though non-lethally so more like out for the count for a minute, and three more on his tail. Their rifles were useless at close quarters so he kept them close, weaving and jabbing, every now and then tossing a flashbang in the fray and hiding behind one of the goons’ armored backs just in time to miss it. His ears haven’t stopped ringing since the first goon dropped her cover in his poker game, but he was fine with that. He spent a lifetime training to fight under all means of influences, after all.

They wear black kevlar. The spur of Peacekeeper tore through one layer just enough to reveal glinting steel plates under that. No patches to indicate name, nothing to suggest a department or accountability. Jesse’s no fool, he knows an extraction when he sees one. One of the men, the larger of the two remaining, sways once, his mouth clenched in determination, charges, too slow, too clumsy. He goes down with butt of Jesse’s gun. The remaing two, a man and woman, eyes him, the man panting, the woman red-faced in murderous, when all three still standing tense.

Someone’s clapping.

An Omnic steps into the doorway, a hair thinner than the standard model, an aesthetic choice that required expensive custom work and made them look like needle of a man. Their face is custom, too, the head chiseled just below the eye slits to form a proud cheek ridge, the chin sharp and temple sleek.

“McCree.” It states, voice treated with a slight reverb that makes Jesse think of the dying note of a pair of brass cymbals. 

Blood thrums under his skin, hot and alive even where it’s sticky and trickling from his nose and from the graze wound on his bicep, coursing through his seasoned and worn body like new life in the desert. He grins, the thick blood on his lips stretching with protest, not quite dry enough to crack.

Well would you look at that? He’s been found out.

Good.

~~~

He can’t remember if it was his grandmother that originally told him the story, just that she was ancient and had survived famine and war and had only one setting: there was always work to be done. He thinks maybe they shared blood, he has a few clear memories of times she’d lock eyes with him, and while he was a round-faced child and she was wind-browned and papery with age, their brown eyes reflected one another. But then, everyone around had brown eyes. And dark hair. And tan skin.

Even so, she’d put him to work helping the older kids with more complicated chores from the moment he could walk, but she’d also control when they stopped working, be it to eat or sleep, or, on special occasion, to talk the younger ones to sleep. Stories about animals, mostly, about Coyote who stole the sun, or Owl who muttered of things no one wanted to know, or the Lizard with his back to the sun, and Jackrabbit with his many children and tireless foraging.

And he could’ve sworn, while rocking one of his many infant cousins to sleep, that one day, she told him this story, only only told it to him.

Towards the beginning, the creatures of the earth took time to form. Some choose size, like Boar and Desert Cat, other made themselves small and easy to miss, like Mouse and Grasshopper. A few chose the air, and others fought over whether best way to roam the earth was with claws biting into the dirt or hooves to flatten it smooth. Fox, however, chose to walk among them, observing each without deciding himself, so he remained medium sized. Without knowing it, his weaving in and out of the debates of the others made him long and sleek. And when it was almost time for him to solidify his own form, he caught himself admiring Desert Cat, who had chosen definitively the shape of sharp teeth and claws. So Fox tried on sharp teeth, and tried to take up claws, but since he waited so long his teeth were smaller and his claws grew but never sharpened to a point.

A few days after the beginning, Mother walked among the animals with a basket of additional gifts. She gave the Desert Cat Power, Mouse Meekness, Rabbit Speed, and so on until the basket lightened, then emptied. Fox had chosen to wait at the end of the line and observe her give each gift, memorizing each gift, and almost missed that he wasn’t to receive a gift for this choice.

“I’m Sorry, Fox,” Mother said, when she realized her basket was empty.

“It’s okay, Mother,” Fox replied, “Because I know each gift you gave came with a curse. I may never receive a gift, but I’ll never bear a curse, either.”

Mother is great, but she is also terrible, and while she knew she had slighted Fox first, he wounded her with his truthtelling. So Mother reached up to her own head, and plucked a hair, then tied it around Fox’s neck. “For you, I give the gift of cunning.”

And the other animals watched on with jealousy and pity and awe, because Fox had, as he would from then onward, tricked his way into something from seemingly nothing, receiving perhaps the greatest gift of all the creatures. But he also invited the greatest curse, some of the more intelligent animals noted, because though cunning may be a great tool, its curse was curiosity, perhaps the most deadly curse of all.

~~~

Jesse had observed the Omnic for too long, and the woman had recovered and swung her rifle butt down on his knee, the explosive pain driving him to the ground. Hus arms come up, palms out, still grinning, still watching the omnic, even as the woman’s rifle barrel twitches against his temple in her adrenaline shaky grasp.

The omnic continues to walk into the room, but allows their attention to wander around the room, to the damage Jesse’s bar brawl caused. Where it human, perhaps Jesse would be able to follow the path of it’s irises as they traced the turned over tables and chairs, the bullet scars in the wall and the broken glass and splinters. But it’s not, and ll Jesse can see is a flat metal face, scanning the room with a wide sensor. The omnic pauses when it reaches an unconscious goon. For a moment, Jesse thinks they’re gonna nudge the man with their metal-capped foot. It doesn’t, though, just speaks up in their chiming, reverberating voice.

“Reyes always spoke highly of you. Pity he never mentioned how much you liked to make a mess of things.”

Ah. There it is. One of the few names that cut into Jesse’s chest and struck the cold iron splinter where his heart was. Pity, Jesse thinks, as the high and warmth retracts and his focus on the room becomes absolute. The side of his mind that reminds him he’s human is dangerously quiet in this new sharpened perspective. The woman’s breathing to his left hasn’t improved. He must’ve cracked her rib. To his right, the man lifts his rifle, but the motion is stuttered. injured gun arm.

“Means he didn’t like you much,” Jesse replies cheerfully. “He only gave warning labels to people he liked.”

“Is that why you’re here?” The omnic asks, matter of fact.

“You lost me, partner.”

The omnic meets his eyes now, head turned so the point of their chin is accentuated as they looks down their faceplate at Jesse. “Did Reaper send you?”

Jesse’s hands drop, his flesh hand slapping his thigh as he laughs, belly-deep. The woman and the man on either side flinch so hard their barrels nudge his temple. Jesse doesn’t care, though, his laughter echoing off the empty walls while his captors grow ever tenser. “Oh, buddy. Reaper don’t even return my calls. Can’t imagine him sending me orders on some podunk kingpin wannabe.” Laughter dies as soon as it started, eyes sharp on his mark. “Can you?”

~~~

Cunning and curiosity, a chaotic pair in the best of times. Fox goes off on many adventures, observing many great moments, adjusting each in his own spectacular fashion. He creates as many adventures as he disturbs, forming new rules as he shatters old.

After one such adventure, during which he convinces Desert Cat he caused the flood rain by killing a spider, Fox find himself running for his life once his old friend realizes the deception, cackling all the way. Owl follows him by air, until Fox tires and find a hiding place to rest.

“Desert Cat was your friend,” Owl says from where she’s perched on an old saguaro. Her gift from the Mother was Wisdom, and she more than anyone could read Fox’s deceptive patterns.

Fox rests his head on his tail, curled tight against the chill of a wet afternoon, his eyes glowing dimly in the darkness of his enclosure. “He still is. But his gift is Power, and that breeds arrogance. Humility is needed to keep him sane. Besides, what he did to the Rabbits required vengeance.”

Owl is quiet for a long time. “So you used your cunning for the good of others, “ she says, skeptical.

Fox grins. “I always try to.”

Owl is solemn, eyes flat and unseeing, voice weighted with the unseen. “And when you must be cunning, but for the good of no one?”

The curse of Wisdom is Prescience. But just as Owl could understand Fox’s cunning better than anyone, Fox could adopt and adapt to Owl’s forebodence. He licks his lips, and grins again. “Then I will use my gift anyway,” he says, simply, accepting what disaster he may cause as easily as he did the good, “And hope for the best.”

~~~

Omnics can’t narrow their eye slits, especially not if their face is frozen by design for effect. Jesse almost wishes they could, just so he could confirm that he got to the bastard. The Omnic says nothing. Just turns and exits the room, hand clasped behind his back, the epitome of a silent order to kill him if Jesse ever saw one.

Problem one: the man’s gun hand is broken and his wrist ligament overstrained. In his heavy tactical gloves, he can’t feel a fucking trigger much less squeeze one.

Problem two: the magazine on these particular rifles holds fifteen rounds. The woman to his right hasn’t been counting, but Jesse has been.

She pulls the trigger, and gets an empty click. Jesse’s grin never falters, and he dips back, flexing back until he’s out of range of both barrels. Lt. Slow and Injured finally manages to squeeze his trigger and fires, right into the barrel of his only standing teammate’s gun. Shrapnel flashes, and Jesse feels the telltale burn across one cheek, the resulting sound and burst of ricochet enough to throw both aims off. Jesse’s off his knees in an instant, Firing once at the woman, dropping her in a spray of blood from just under her helmet, then the man, who has the time and the audacity to shout NO, nostrils flared, eyes pinpricks, just before his brain matter, too, paints the wall behind him.

~~~

Man barrels into the order of things like, well, Fox, but worse. All of a sudden there’s a new order of Hunter and no one is safe. Not Desert Cat. Not anyone, not even Fox.

In fact, one day, Fox is pacing back and forth, trying his cunning on all sorts of things just to get his paw free from Man’s trap. Off to the side, Desert Cat watches, his tail flicking in both amusement and concern.

“You must be embarrassed,” Desert Cat practically purrs.

Fox stops his pacing, calming his own racing heart enough to feign a calm sitting pose. “Not at all. Man is more cunning, in this instance.”

Desert Cat’s tail stops flicking. His ears draw back. “Don’t say that.”

“It’s true.”

“No.” Desert Cat is practically spitting. “You’ve been given Cunning! Use it! Use it like you always do!”

Fox knows he’s no catch to Man. He has no meat to him, and his fur is hardly enough to decorate a Man’s child’s regalia, much less a tassel for a full grown Man. But Desert Cat? His pelt would decorate the best of Man’s clothing, his sharp claws and teeth a mark of honor among them. So Fox grins. “Oh I will. But I think I need Boar. Go and find him for me?”

They both know Boar, the Original Boar and none of his dumb children, is three days travel from here. And while Desert Cat could never compete in Fox’s Cunning, he was not stupid. They stare at one another for a long while, then Desert Cat blinks. Once. Twice. Thrice, a long, held blink. “Very well.”

Desert Cat leaves Fox, hesitant at first, then, as his commitment solidifies to this choice, faster as powerful muscles work him into a full gallop away.

Fox watches until he’s far enough, a speck in the distance, then turns his calculating gaze down to the paw trapped.

Wingbeats overhead, soft, a predator’s wing beats. Owl.

To be Cunning, but to the good of no one.

Fox bares his teeth at the trapped paw. “You are Man’s, now.”

He tells his own paw, and in the fashion of the wild, strikes at it with his own needle-sharp teeth.

~~~

Two bullets of Peacekeeper’s six used on the two standing goons back in the old bar.

One to graze the suit of the omnic walking off into his fancy car, said zinger ultimately burying itself in a starburst hole in the gold-plated door of the omnic’s expensive car door. Bullet four flies next, barely waiting for the omnic to turn and look at him, but also burying itself in the gold plate of the car, just in sight of the omnic’s gaze as they turn. Their eyes glow red under the slit of their faceplate once their meet his eyes.

“You can tell Reyes I-”

Jesse shoots to kill, based on where he judged the  main processor to be located. He’s close, the omnic almost flickers out entirely, clutching at the bullet wound to their chest. The reverb in their voice shakes even more. “Tell Reyes-”

Jesse shoots again, then immediately goes to reload, watching the second flicker in and out and in and out, so close to fatal for this being. He loads a single bullet. The omnic lets out a noise like aggravated radio static, almost like clearing a throat, then their eyes glow bright, one last time. “Tell Reyes I never agreed to his terms.”

Jesse freezes. The omnic’s eyes flicker. Once. twice. Then go dark, the chassis falling, vacant, to the ground.

~~~

When their gifts are new, Fox approaches Desert Cat with open admiration. Desert Cat’s pride is enough that he accepts the awe of the creature blessed with Mother’s personal gift.

Power’s curse is Arrogance, but among the gift she gave them, Mother did not mention one thing: they were all more complicated than the Gift, more complicated than their Gift’s Curse, because they all, ultimately, existed with choices before the Gift, and would continue to exist after.

So it wasn’t out of Power, or Arrogance, that Desert Cat lay on his back, belly to the stars, mimicking the pose his friend Fox used to a tee, that he says, “I’m not dumb, Fox. You were Gifted with Cunning, but none of us were Cursed with gullibility.”

Fox snuffles a bit, trying to lose himself in the dichotomy of Moonlight on his belly fur and the cool earth on his thicker back fur. But Desert Cat’s word was important to him, so he draws himself together and replies, “Of course not, great Desert Cat.”

Desert Cat growls to hide his preening at such a statement. “We know your nature, then, fiend. Who could trust you, ever?”

Fox stops his snuffling, listening to Desert Cat intently before side-eying him. Eyes meet, both their bellies to the full moon.

Fox says, “I admire your honesty. So accept this: I will use my cunning honestly. Fear only my cunning if you are dishonest. I can make that promise.”

Desert Cat rolls off his back, approaching, eye contact never wavering. “Promise it.”

Fox remains on his belly, but doesn’t blink once at the eye contact.

“I promise.

~~~

Jesse lights a cigarillo. Blood has caked and scabbed by this point, his lips cracking under the stretch, his arm achey and painful t flex where the scab dried.

His lead might’ve been a plant. Might’ve been one of Reaper’s plants, an unofficial invite for Jesse to wipe out one of Reaper’s problems.

Jesse lifts the cigarillo to his lips, and recounts the crimes in the area that were related to the dead omnic’s particular ring.

Jesse can’t bring himself to care.

The bourbon in his flask helps.

All just another day in the life of the Bounty Hunter, Jesse McCree.

[raptorfiction]

A Bosmer, A Nord, A Khajiit, and an Argonian....

Cast:

Valys SageStalker: 67 years old, hunter and skilled apothecarian. Curmudgeonly, Matronly, and very down to earth. She prefers solitude and uneventful living

Bjorin Bjorksson: 23 years old, co-owner of Bjorksson’s General Goods. Excitable, adventurous, instigator. Always looking for the next adventure and trying to bring the people he considers friends along.

Bolverk Bjorksson: 32 years old. Owner of Bjorksson’s General Goods. Practical, Down to earth, welcoming. Unlike his younger brother, Bolverk is content to run his shop and live a rather peaceful existence. He is polite and welcoming to individuals of all races and gender.

Cracks-many-skulls: Early to mid 20’s.Jack-of-all-trades. Gentle, protective, cowardly. Despite his name, Skulls is actually a rather gentle individual who prefers to avoid conflict. When presented with it, he’ll either back away if it’s a verbal confrontation, or hide if it’s physical. Though he will do whatever it takes to protect friends.

T’ziva: Age unknown.Skilled thief and pickpocket. Playful, childish, lively. and  All work and no play makes T’ziva a dull girl. The high energy Khajiit prefers to play and pull pranks rather than take things seriously. If life’s not for having fun, what is it for??

Valys pauses for a moment as she looks over everything in her packs, going over the list in her head of things she had planned on taking in to town today. Satisfied that she had packed everything, she placed them on her pulley-hitched scaffold and lowered them to the ground. As for Valys herself, she was content just scrabbling her way down her tree house. It offered her the opportunity to keep her climbing skills sharp and to make sure no critters had been caught in her traps.

Luckily for her, nothing had today. Though usually it was some poor, unlucky bird or a frostbite spider that thought it would have an easy meal. Pleased at the lack of extra work, Valys shifted her packs to her hand wagon and proceeded to take off.

The trip wasn’t all that long, she only lived a mile or so outside of the village, but it was plenty enough space that she wouldn’t have to be pestered by self righteous Nords who thought anyone who wasn’t a Nord was trash. Not that all Nords were that way, but too many of them were. Easier to just stay away from them when she could.

As she strolled into town, she gave the obligatory head nod to those few who greeted her and continued on her path to the General Store. She parked her wagon outside the front door and hefted the rather large and heavy packs over her shoulders, stumbling through the front door.

“By Talos, woman!” Bolverk scolded, making his way around the counter to assist her. “You could have shouted, Bjorin or myself would have helped you.”

As he took a couple of the packs from her, Valys responded with a brusque grunt and dropped the others onto the floor. “I could have. But then I run the risk of your brother trying to convince me to join one of his idiotic expeditions.”

“Aye, I suppose that’s true.” Bolverk sighs, carrying her stuff into the stockroom to go over what was what and what she was owed.

“Besides, it’s a good workout for me.” Valys follows, dragging her merchandise along with her. “I have some good stuff for you today. Several pelts cleaned and as is. Some fashioned into clothing, others into blankets.” She points to the first pack. “Then some meat, cured and preserved. Goat, Elk, the usual. Dug up some clams and also some mudcrabs. That’s all preserved in jars.”

She gestured to the other pack he had been carrying as well as one of the packs she was dragging. “The rest are the usual poultices, potions, bundles of dried herbs.” She motions to the last, smallest pack of the group. “Should be enough to stock you through to the end of the month.”

“Aye, looks like you’ve got some good stock in here. A rather successful hunt it seems.” Bolverk tallies up the items in the first pack, tallying up totals and prices.

Suddenly, the sound of the front door being flung open resonates through the shop and Valys and Bolverk exchange glances. Heavy boot steps are heard crossing the floor followed shortly by a loud, booming voice.

“Valys’ wagon is outside! Where is she?!” Valys groans and glances about for a hiding place. But too late. “Valys!” Bolverk’s younger brother, Bjorik bursts in, arms wide open in welcome. The bulky Nord tromps forward, attempting to scoop the much smaller Bosmer up into a Nord sized bear hug.

Valys moves to evade it, but the close quarters of the stockroom leave her with almost no free room to maneuver. She soon finds herself crushed between large, bulky arms and a burly chest. Perhaps Bjorin didn’t know his own strength, but Valys soon found herself gasping for air, her ribcage squeezed in a rather painful manner, arms pinned to her sides.

She squirmed, her little legs kicking at Bjorin where she could make contact. And make contact she did. The toe of her fur lined shoe collided harshly with Bjorin’s groin, causing him to drop her and then drop to the ground himself, coughing and laughing. Valys however, didn’t find it quite as amusing, doubled over, hugging herself as she panted.

“What the hell was that?!” She aimed another kick at Bjorin, succeeding at nailing him in the side. As the giant toppled over, he laughed again. Valys pulled back to repeat the assault when a heavy hand on her shoulder stopped and calmed her.

Bolverk didn’t look much more pleased than Valys, though he approached his brother with a sense of calm, offering his hand to help him up. “Perhaps brother, you shouldn’t crush the person who is capable and probably willing to poison you when you aren’t looking.”

“Nah.” Bjorin takes his brother’s arm by the wrist with a loud clap, pulling himself up. “Valys wouldn’t do that. I’m far too charming.”

“You’re right, I wouldn’t.” Valys leans against a post, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’d just set you on fire.” With a snap of her fingers, a small flame lights at the tip of her index finger before she snuffs it out. “Waste of good meat, otherwise.”

The brothers seem unphased by her brand of humor--if it is humor. Bolverk claps his brother upside the back of his head before returning to his chore of tallying up all the inventory Valys had brought. Rubbing the back of his head, Bjorin turns to Valys, a fool’s grin from ear to ear plastered on his face.

“So Valys--”

“No. I’m going to stop you right there.” She cuts him off before he can continue on. “I’m not going on one of your ridiculous adventures. Do you remember what happened last time?”

“Yes, I remember what happened last time.” The Nord whines like a scolded child.

“What happened last time?” Her good eye swiveled onto him, with an almost piercing gaze.

“Your horse was killed and I was unconscious for three days.”

“Three days.” She reiterates. “AND you lost me my horse. So now I have to haul this shit into town by myself.” She’s nearly fuming as she glowers  at the much, much taller individual.

“But this time will be different.” He pleads with her, falling to his knees. Now just half a head taller than her, he flings his arms around her waist and gives her the biggest puppy dog look possible.

“No.” She pushes him off and stalks off towards the front of the shop.

“But Valys…” He stumbles to his feet and follows. “I’m bringing backup this time.”

“Back up?” She scoffs. “Who was stupid enough to allow you to con them into going…. Wherever you’re going this time?”

“Old tomb about a day’s hike east of here. Stories say there’s some sort of treasure or reward buried way deep down.”

“Because stories are never made up.” Valys snorts. “And you never told me who you convinced to go with you.”

“Cracks-many-Skulls.” He says almost triumphantly.

“Cracks-many-Skulls. The Argonian.” She mutters in disbelief. “The super nice one who’s always taking up odd jobs to help people out?”

“Yes.”

“The one who’s so sensitive he cries when a child stumbles and scrapes their knee.” She asks.

“...Yes.”

“The one who’s practically afraid of his own shadow and runs away at the first sign of conflict.” Valys adds to her commentary.

“....Yeah…”

“Oh bravo.” She comments with all the sarcasm in her being. “Nothing will be able to defy you now.”

“I have more than just him!” Bjorin retorts.

“What? A wet piece of parchment? Ooooh. Those draugr better beware!” She scoffs and brushes Bjorin off. “The answer is no. If you want to get yourself killed, leave me out of it.” And with that, she pushes past him back into the storage room.

Bjorin, looking rather put out and disheartened, picked himself off of the floor. Hiking his trousers up, he sets his jaw and saunters off, out of the shop to prepare himself.

Upon her return, Bolverk has two small pouches of septims ready and waiting for Valys. The Bosmer eyes them suspiciously, and then eyes Bolverk in much the same manner. “What’s that? I know my merchandise isn’t worth that many septims. What are you up to?”

“You know he’s going to get himself killed…” Bolverk begins.

“No.”

“He needs an experienced hand--”

“No.”

“Someone who can steer him clear of real danger--”

“I said, no!”

“Valys…”

“Why don’t you do it, if you’re so concerned! He’s your brother!” Valys snaps, arms crossed over her chest.

“Because someone needs to run the shop. How is your merchandise going to sell if no one is here to sell it?” Bolverk answers calmly. “And besides, he doesn’t listen so well to me. You, on the other hand… he listens to.”

“Like hell he does.”

“He does.” Bolverk assures her. “Because you’re experienced.” He pauses for a moment before carrying on. “And because he’s sweet on you.”

“Oh for the love of Akatosh…” She rolls her eyes. “I’m old enough to be his grandmother.”

“Yes, but you know you elves have different lifespans than us non-mer folk.”

“Which brings me to another point.” She lifts a finger. “I’m not even a Nord!”

“After all this time, do you really think it bothers us?” Bolverk arches an eyebrow, looking almost offended.

“Fine, I’ll give you that one.” She concedes. “But I still don’t understand it. Nor do I like it.”

“You don’t have to. Just use it to keep him from doing something irrevocably stupid.”

Valys stares at Bolverk for a moment, likely imagining him on fire. Eventually she lets out an irritated and defeated sigh, hands falling to her sides.

“Fine.” She points a finger at him. “But you owe me.”

“That’s what the gold is for.”

“Fuck your gold.” She waves her hand dismissively. “I don’t want it. Keep it. You owe me. A favor. A big one. To be called in when I need it. Understood?”

Bolverk stared down at her for several long minutes, weighing his options. Finally, he extends a large hand, big enough to wrap around her head. “Deal. One large favor to be called in when it’s needed.”

Valys shakes his hand and lets out another annoyed sigh. “I assume he’s already got supplies prepared?”

“This is my brother we’re speaking of.”

“Naturally.” She rolls her eyes and starts stalking off towards the front door. “Better go find him and make sure he doesn’t die just getting out of town…”