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starr-fall-knight-rise · 5 years

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Humans are Space Orcs, “Nest.”

Finally guys, some fluff! Based on some comments made by @beckitty and @digitalmagpie on Compromised Earth. I was inspired by the idea and thought it would be fun to write, and would totally make sense, so. I hope I did the idea credit.

Enjoy the fluff, and thank you all for reading.

Sunny was mad.

Sunny was also worried, but that was mostly overshadowed by just how pissed she was. Adam was being an idiot, the biggest idiot, the king of the idiots. If he kept this up any longer he was going to upgrade himself to the god of all idiots, and it seemed like it was up to her to get something done.

Adam was in a bad way.

He could be fine, she thought, if he was given the time he needed to rest and recuperate. He was exhausted, and short twenty minute naps were going to do nothing to help that exhaustion. She knew enough from Krill to know that the human body required sleep to recover from injuries, and the Steel Eye armor had practically destroyed his body. There was muscle strain, extreme inflammation, the overdose, internal damage, nerve damage, stress fractures etc. etc, and despite all that he was still answering the call of the UNSC.

The stress of his job, and his inability to say no to other people and their needs was going to kill him. He felt obligated, by his job to make sure that everything went well, he assumed because of who he was that he was in charge of protecting earth, even the entire universe if he had to. He was taking on weight that he was not obligated to take on.

Even the UNSC was well aware of how sick he was, and despite taking his help, they seemed concerned about him, and she had no doubt they would be ok if he decided to take time off to recover. There were other men and women in the universe who would be willing to take on the weight he was trying to bare.

Yet he wouldn't listen to her.

Sitting on his chair in the UNSC command room, fighting back sleep, and no ability to walk, he was running himself into the ground.

She needed to find someone who could rein him in.

And she thought she had just the idea.

She left him, though she didn’t want to and made a quick call before walking into the room and quietly whispering to some of the Admirals standing off to one side of the room during break.

“I will not be accepting no, but I thought you should be aware.”

They looked at her and nodded, “We can take it from here.”

“Thank you. I hope you understand that this isn’t a reflection on him.”

“The reflection on him has to do with the fact that he refuses to leave. Do what you have to.”

She nodded turning and walking over to where Adam was sitting slumped in his chair half asleep pale as a ghost. He had insisted the IV be removed so he wouldn't be so distracting. She had argued, he had been stubborn

She walked over putting her arms around him and hauling him to his feet. His head lifted in exhaustion bright green eyes glazed over with exhaustion,”Sunny?”

“Just relax. We are going to go get you some sun during the break.”

He was too tired to be sceptical, and just walked with her.

She could feel his feet dragging, and occasionally his legs would give out under him, but she wrapped one arm around his waist and the other arm around his chest to hold him upright until they finally made it outside to the front of the building. In comparison to the inside, where the lights were dark and the mood was darker, the day was bright and warm. The sky overhead was blue and the ground before them was lush and green. Overhead the sun was warm and bright.

An automated lawn mower was roaring in the distance filling the air with the sound of freshly cut grass.

It made sunny mouth water.

She let Adam sink onto the curb, his head in his hands and lifted her head looking this way and that for signs of life, for the people she was expecting. She heard them before she saw them, the screeching of rubber on pavement, a sound that wasn’t exactly common in a world where everything could hover.

Sunny turned her head and watched as the ancient, four door pickup roared around the corner and skidded through the parking lot. Sunny could feel the aggression spilling off the thing in waves, and when it gunned towards her, she almost worried that she was destined to be roadkill.

However, the tires came to a screeching stop just before them.

Adam lifted his exhausted head and blinked eyes focusing blearily on the front of the car, and as soon as he did, his eyes widened.

Sunny peered through the front windshield where a small, blond- hair woman in a red flannel was hunched behind the steering wheel eyes narrowed face contorted into a predatory snarl that made sunny think twice about having made that call. In the seat just next to her, a greying human male was white knuckling the crash handles.

A door was thrown open and then slammed shut.

“Mom?”

Martha Vir stormed around the front of the ancient truck, whose engine popped and rattled as it cooled down.

The look of anger fled from her face at one moment, to one of concern as she knelt on the curb looking over her son with piercing blue eyes wild with concern. Mr. vir wobbled stiffly from the cab of the truck forced to pry his hand from the crash handle.

“Mom… what are you doing here?” Adam said in confusion as she tiled his head this way and that, pressing her hand against his forehead, grabbing his hand to examine the inflamed wounds still evident from the steel eye implantation.

It was clear by her expression that she knew exactly what had caused those scars.

“What-did-they-do. They made you wear the suit again! I swear to the lord above I am going to kill every last-”

“Mom!” his voice was weak, “No one made me put it back on….. I…. asked them to.”

She stared at him in confusion, “What?” “I had no other choice.” His voice quivered a little though he tried to choke it down. Clear evidence that humans were more likely to drop their guard in front of a caregiver, no matter how long past.

She rested her hand on his cheek, “But why… Adam….”

“It’s what I had to do.”

“And the drugs….”

All was silent for a moment, and he lowered his head.

The stormy expression on her face grew thunderous.

“I’m sorry…. I couldn’t…. Take the pain.”

Sunny was surprised to see she didn’t even look mad. Instead she hugged him holding him to her chest his head resting on her shoulder for a long moment. Jim came to sit next to them one hand resting on his son’s back.

“It’s alright, we’re here to take you home.”

He lifted his head, “Home, no, I can’t I have….”

“I don’t care what you have. You aren't in any kind of shape to be doing any kind of work.”

“But mom the burg could attack earth at any-”

“I don’t care if the burg is attacking,I don’t care who is coming. I don’t care if it’s the rapture, and Jesus is descending from the sky on a chariot of fire, you are coming home.”

“But-”

“Adam you are not the only thing standing between earth and eminent destruction, now argue with me again…. I dare you.”

Sunny had never experienced such intense eye contact in all her life. And she thought her own mother had had a mean glare. As soon as Adam made eye contact with his mother, it was over, Sunny saw the fight drain out of him and he simply nodded his head.

He glanced over at sunny, “You called them didn’t you.”

Sunny lifted her head, “I did.”

“Why?”

“Because you won’t listen to me, but I knew who you would listen to.”

His father leaned down, and with one strong calloused hand, he helped Adam to his feet, “Come on Kid, let's get you home before your mother levels the UNSC.” He chuckled, “Thought she was going to drive the truck through the front door.” Adam snorted, too tired and weak to actually laugh.

His legs gave out before he made it to the car. His parents caught him, doing their best to hold him up.

Sunny intervened, lifting him easily off the ground and into the back of the truck, she then followed after allowing him to rest his head on her leg as he lay across the back seat.

Jim and Martha got back into the truck, Martha grudgingly allowing her husband to drive.

After a moment she reached a hand back holding a water bottle out to adam.

“Drink, this better be done by the time we get home.”

“But-”

“Drink your water!”

He shut up, finishing the water in a few minutes. It wasn’t a second later that the water bottle clattered to the floor, and Adam was out. Sunny sat in somewhat awkward silence as they drove down the highway.

Jim glanced at her in the rear view mirror, “You alright, Sunny.”

“Yes, sir.

“Enough leg room?”

“Yes sir, just fine, sir.”

“My name is Jim, Kid, you can use it.”

Er, “Of course, Jim.”

After another few minutes of awkward silence, Martha turned around in her seat to look at sunny, “What happened?”

Sunny wasn’t entirely sure what she was and was not allowed to tell them, but she didn’t want to find out what would happen if she didn’t, “The Burg declared war on the GA, and then proceeded to attack the Gromm homeworld for the warp codes that would give them access to the rest of the GA. They landed on the planet and were dug in inside an energy field with a plan to attack and charge our line within a day. Adam and his advisors determined the best course of action would be to attack them first and detonate their ship’s engine. Adam made a call…. I had no idea what he was doing. Both Krill and I tried to stop him when we figured it out, but he made it clear that he would find someone else if we didn’t do it. He….. he wasn’t doing so well, but he began the battle without any drugs….. Halfway through…. Well he just couldn’t handle it. He took them, and we finished, but he overdosed. Krill saved his life, but, he just hasn’t slowed down since. I can’t get him to, no one can…. So that’s when I called you.”

She stared up at martha worried that she would be blamed for not stopping Adam.

It seemed as if it might tilt in that direction, but Jim piped up, “Thank you for taking care of him, Sunny. Adam…. He’s always been stubborn. A weird mix of stubborn and not being able to say no.”

They turned off the highway and cut through the suburbs finally pulling up to the familiar house under the unassuming blue sky.

Sunny stepped out pulling Adam with her, who only partially woke up.

She carried him to the door and into the house following Martha back to a guest bedroom,where she set his hat on the nightstand, and woke him up long enough to get him to kick off his shoes and pull off his uniform jacket.

Then and only then was he finally allowed to lay down. Sunny wasn’t sure if he was even awake for the following few minutes where, like a mother bird, the human proceeded to construct a nest out of pillows and other soft things. He had a pillow under his head, and a pillow under his legs, and if that wasn’t enough, he was then surrounded on all sides by pillows. That done, she took a moment to check the sounds left by the Steel eye armor, cleaning a few of them up and bandaging over with clean gauze. She lay a hand on his forehead checking for fever, and by extension, and infection.

He shifted in his sleep.

She then went hunting through a closet which was hoarded at least two dozen more blankets.

She left the window open allowing the warm sunlight and cool air to breeze into the room, covering his legs with the blanket, but leaving his arms and chest exposed to the warm sunlight.

Finally done, She then ushered Sunny out of the room, leaving the door cracked slightly, where it could be seen from down the hall in the kitchen. Sunny stood awkwardly in the living room for a time her back facing the window where sunlight was beaming through onto the floor. Dust moats churned and rolled in the sunlight.

Martha sat at the table while Jim stepped outside to get some work done.

Sunny shuffled her feet awkwardly before.

“Thank you for…. Coming so quickly.”

Martha looked up at her, her bright blue human eyes cutting and cold.

“I would do anything for my kids.”

Sunny shifted her feet and looked down quietly and before realizing what she was saying, “I wish my mother had been more like you.”

There was silence.

Martha worked her jaw for a second before curiosity got the better of her, “Are…. Drev mothers not protective of their children?”

Sunny shook her head, “No…. not at all…. Just not…. Mine.”

“Oh…. I’m sorry…. What…. Happened?”

Sunny looked away and shrugged, “Oh I was a disgrace. A crippled abomination that should have been tossed into the fire at birth.”

Martha stared at her, “Don’t you think that’s a bit exaggerated.”

Sunny turned to look at her, “No… That’s what happens if you are born crippled. You are tossed into the fire.”

Martha stared at her mouth open, “They what!.... But how…. Why… why would anyone do anything like that….. And you. You look fine.”

Sunny turned to look out the window, “My mother was a great general. She won land in all directions of the compass, but after my brother, she was never able to produce another child…. It is very important in Drev culture to be able to produce kits.” She turned to look at martha, “Drev mothers give birth near the mouths of volcanos, and if the kit doesn’t hold up to standard they are thrown into the fire for their spirits to be recycled. My mother was…. Unable to get rid of me…. I am very small. I think she hated me because I was a symbol of her weakness, and she just couldn’t handle that.”

Martha had gone very quiet staring on at Sunny in surprise and…. a hint of something else in her bright blue eyes.

“I tried for her to be the best warrior I could. But in truth, I am not talented in battle. When the Drev war came, I thought I could win her love through valor, though I should have known better by then.” She looked at Martha feeling a horrible clenching feeling rising up in her chest and stomach, “What I did to Adam…. It isn’t excused by any means, but at least now you know why I did what I did.’ She looked down at her hands, “But instead of winning my mother’s love, she blamed me for my father’s death.”

“Your father…. Died during the war?”

“Yes, he was killed by a Steel-eye soldier during the last push.” She raised a hand, “Don’t worry, my father died an honorable death in battle…. I was happy for him. Once again my mother went against our customs and turned her sights on revenge.” Sunny siged taking a seat at the table resting her hands together atop the polished surface clasped lightly together.

As she sat a sudden touch of warmth on her hand made her look up.

Martha Vir had a hand over hers and was looking at her with an expression Sunny had not seen on the human’s face before.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright.”

“No, it’s not. No one deserves to be treated like that.”

Sunny chirped half heartedly, “It’s past me now. “She glanced towards the door, “Besides, I have people who care about me now, and they make it pretty clear that I am worth far more than what my mother said.”

There was another silence. The distant sound of laughter reached them from outside, “I am sorry, for the way I treated you. I shouldn’t have done that.”

Sunny chirped again, “I hurt your son, you would have to be crazy to trust me, or even like me all that much.” “Still, I should have been willing to trust his judgement…. He’s my youngest, and sometimes I forget he’s his own man.” She laughed, “Every time I picture him he’s still eight years old.”

“Are you sure he isn't”

The two of them laughed.

The door creaked open just then, and Jim stepped into the house a handful of dandelions in one hand. He seemed surprised to find the two of them laughing with each other, but just as pleased, “What did I miss.”

Martha smiled, “Nothing important. What do you have there?”

“Well, I was just getting rid of these from the lawn, and I was going to throw them away, but.” He glanced at sunny sheepishly, “I thought I heard Adam mention that you liked eating them, so…. I bought them inside instead. Forgive me for overstepping or mishearing.”

Sunny perked up a bit at the sight of the little yellow weed, “You heard him right.”

Jim looked relieved, handing Sunny the flowers and coming down to sit at the table. Sunny munched on the flower rather happily.

“Please eat them all. I hate those little yellow bastards.”

Martha looked over at Sunny, “Adam ever taught you how to play cards?”

Sunny shook her head, “I’ve seen him play, but we usually do other things.”

“Might as well do something while we pass the time.” Jim reached out to open a drawer revealing a few decks of cards. “Prism, turn on the sports channel.”

A blue light flashed around the upper edge of the ceiling, and a projection bloomed to life at the center of the room.

Martha began manipulating the cards between her hands adding a pleasant shuffling sound to the air.

Sunny growled at the screen.

“What, you don’t like the Strikers?”

“No, their coach is a D bag and Marcos can’t throw to save his life.”

Jim laughed, “Finally someone who gets it. Only Jeremy was ever into football, but they’re his favorite team.”

“Schmuck.”

“That’s what I said.”

Sunny chirped happily, and Jim laughed.

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nimmy22 · 3 years

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A Mistake: Chapter 3

They weaved through the streets of the lavish neighborhood doing their best to lose their pursuers. They crushed countless flowers and shrubs beneath their feet as they jumped from backyard to backyard. The sound of gunfire forced them to pump their muscles harder, run faster as the rain beat down on them without mercy.

Why was no one calling the police? A commotion like this would at least draw crowds of families curious about all the noise or the dead bodies littering the street and their neighbor's home.

Sherry tripped, skinning her hands and knees on the pavement. She had a second to cry in pain before Cara was already pulling her up to continue.

"I can't. It's too hard." Sherry cried, breathing laboriously as her lips trembled. "Can we take a break?" She struggled to contain her tears, knowing full well it wasn't the best time to start crying.

"I'm sorry, Sherry but not here. We have to keep moving," Cara warned, glancing behind her. She saw no one and didn't hear any gunshots, but that didn't make it safe. "I can't let them take you, Sherry. Come on, just a bit more, and we'll find help."

Sherry nodded before she began to run again. However, one step, and she yelped, wincing in pain as she put her weight on her knee. It hurt worse than when she fell off her bike while trying to teach herself. She was alone and had to patch things up herself until her mother finally noticed days later.

"What's wrong?"

"M-my knee hurts," Sherry whimpered, watching the older girl move closer to inspect the wound. Blood trickled down the little girl's legs before getting washed away by the rain.

"That looks bad," Cara sighed, turning her back to the little girl before squatting down. "Here, get on my back. I'll get us out of here."

With Sherry clinging tightly to her neck, Cara ran to the edge of the residential area and down a dirt path leading straight into the Arkley mountains. She hoped to find a hiding spot for them to catch their breath and figure out what to do.

They hid inside the base of a tree, only having each other to keep warm. The spiderwebs were all forgotten, as the girls' fear was now too exhausted. There was nothing left to spare for the tiny arachnoids fuming over their ruined webs.

What felt like hours passed, and the girls grew too cold and tired. The little Sherry's knee wasn't looking so good, the bleeding had stopped, but an infection may already be brewing beneath the skin given where they've been.

Seeing the young girl wince every so often, Cara decided it was time to move again. She needed to find help. Perhaps the men all killed each other during whatever conflict brewed up tonight.

Carrying the young girl on her back again, Cara left the forest to walk along a side road. She was on the lookout for a passing car. But their luck was too dry at this time in the night despite the rain.

"Thank you, Cara. I don't think I would've made out without you."

"I... didn’t do anything. I couldn't fight. All I did was grab you and run. God, I'm so damn useless." Cara let out a long sigh and stared down at her feet.

"You're helping me now, aren't you? You could've just left me or...or listened to those men and gave me up, but you didn't. I will definitely ask daddy to give you a raise." Sherry giggled and rested her head against Cara's back. She knew that if her friend wasn't there tonight, she would've been in the dark all alone or worse. She might've stayed hidden in that closet only to be found by the armed men. She didn't have anyone to develop the skills of hide and seek with.

"Oh, you better, or else I'm suing somebody for the years shaved off my life tonight. Your dad sure pissed off some powerful people. Who sends a whole armed squad on some doctor's house?"

"Daddy says there are people who wanted to buy his medicine, use it for bad things. But he told them no, and now they want to steal it." For a split second, Cara imagined Mr. Birkin dealing drugs with a gang, but that image didn't last long. The disheveled, nervous reck of a man with a million things to do simply didn't look the type.

"Did he keep it in the house?"

"I don't think so," Sherry shook her head.

The older girl pondered over it, agreeing with Sherry. If Mr. Birkin had kept this medicine in his home, then surely the security would've been better. And he especially wouldn't leave his only child alone in the house with it.

"They wanted to use you as a hostage. Probably force your dad to give them what they wanted."

"Daddy probably wouldn't care if they took me,"

"Hey! don't say that. Your parents love Sherry." Cara stopped walking and gave the little girl a shake.

"Then where are they? They are never home."

"Their work is very...important, I suppose,"

"More than me?"

"No! Not like that. I mean... it's just a lot-"

"Cara, look! There is a car coming!" the little girl jumped with excitement on Cara's exhausted back, but she paid it no mind as her eyes greedily drank the glow of the headlights coming down the road.

"Thank god," Cara exhaled deeply, feeling as if all her worries had just vanished. "Wait here, I will flag it down."

Cara stood in the middle of the road and waved both arms, trying to get the driver's attention like a madwoman. She definitely looked deranged, out in the rain in the wee hours of the morning. The headlights became increasingly more blinding as the car came closer. She couldn't tell the color of the car or anything about the driver.

The driver showed no signs of stopping, the speed fast and steady. "Please stop!" Cara shouted, her eyes pleading. "Please!" She won't waste the opportunity, god knows when the next car will drive by. She refused to move, standing her ground as the car sped towards her. Neither her racing heart nor the car slowed. For a moment, she thought it was the end, becoming roadkill at seventeen, having done nothing with her life.

But then it stopped, screeching to a halt inches from her shivering form. Cara let her hands fall to the hood, knees almost buckling beneath her. The hood felt warm and soothing against her icy skin. As she moved to the driver's side, she recognized the design of the police cruiser, one explicitly assigned to the STARS unit. Her heart pounded as a new source of hope offered itself to her. This seemed too good to be true.

"Thank you so much for stopping, officer! It's been a hellish night." Cara said, glancing over with a smile at Sherry, who responded with her own.

The door opened, and the officer stepped out, shining a bright flashlight at Cara. She was blinded and had to shut her eyes. "I know this will sound crazy, but please hear me out. I was babysitting this little girl when a group of armed men broke into the house and then-"

"Where is Sherry?" He asked all too calmly. Cara frowned. It wasn't his sense of calmness that unnerved her. It was the familiarity of his voice.

'Of course, it was too fucking good to be true.'

"Wait, how did you know her name was Sherry?" Cara demanded, taking several steps back. While his shades were missing, his slicked blond hair stood out to her. The rain dowsed her like buckets of ice. "You..."

"I won't ask again," He warned, walking towards her with a hand resting on his belt, ready to draw his gun. His eyes were an icy blue, radiating with the power of his cunning intelligence.

"I won't give her to you. Sherry, run-"

"Uncle Albert? Is that you?" The young girl limped over to them with newfound vigor and threw her arms around the older man. He hugged her for a moment before pushing her away, his eyes searching her for injuries.

"Sherry, no! get away from him," Cara jumped forward, snatching the little girl's hand, pulling her away.

"It's ok, Cara. He's daddy's friend." The little girl shook Cara's grip off her before hopping back into Wesker's arms. Sherry snuggled into the warmth of the older man, completely oblivious to the way Wesker stood, looking down at Cara. He cocked his head to the side with a conceited expression. Clenching her fists, she decided she didn't like him.

Wesker loomed closer to Cara, enjoying the way she stumbled back to get out of his way, almost tripping over her own feet. He deliberately bumped into her shoulder as he carried Sherry to the other side of the car, settling her gently into the back seat. He could've chosen the closest door, but where was the fun in that?

Cara stood dumbfounded, staring as the man who had only hours ago slit a man's throat and was now slapping a bandage on a little girl's knee in the backseat of a cruiser. She watched him with narrowed eyes as he tended to the little girl, finally noticing his police uniform.

"Who are you? Why are you pretending to be a cop? Who were those people? What are you going to do with Sherry?"

"I am an officer of the law."

"That's a load of shit. Say, in the slim, extremely slim chance you are actually a cop, shouldn't there be more...officers? Backup? A news station? A public statement? Something like this wouldn't happen in Raccoon and no one crowding in to watch."

"I handled it," Wesker said, strapping Sherry in the backseat before shutting the door. The little girl was already on her way to snoozing off.

"I don't understand, why-"

"Enough with the questions." He hissed, grabbing her arm. He found the little thing a pretty sight, but that mouth of hers was dangerous. "You better kill off that curiosity of yours before it lands you somewhere you'll never leave as a warm body. Don't be another babysitter we have to send a severance package to."

"You're going to kill me," Cara's laugh was void of humor, succeeding in tipping her tears down her cheeks.

"Just be quiet and get in the car."

"Why should I? You could change your mind in a split second and put a bullet in my head."

Wesker twisted her arm behind her back before shoving her against the passenger door. "Then don't tempt me," his hot breath tickled her ear as he delivered his warning. "And if I did go for it, I wouldn't simply kill you. I'll get everyone you love. One unfortunate accident after the next." His hand trailed up her back to wrap around the back of her neck. She whimpered as he shoved her face harder against the glass.

Cara shuddered, processing the gravity of her situation. The man was a trained killer and supposedly an officer. She had already witnessed him kill, had felt his icy blade to her neck. There was no doubt in her mind that he would deliver on his warning. The real question was when?

The first person to cross her mind was Claire. Truly, there were so few people that Cara cared about and who cared for her. The Redfield siblings only had each other, and Cara couldn't live with the guilt of being the cause of her friend's death. Claire was her anchor when everything spun out of control in her life. She would do anything to protect those important to her.

"Fine," She grumbled, taking out her frustration on her bottom lip. She sunk her teeth into the cracked flesh until she tasted the metallic flavor, but that didn't help get rid of the bad taste already in her mouth.

"Great, now we can finally get out of the rain." Wesker stepped away from Cara, already missing the warmth of her body. Perhaps he should've prolonged it for a few more minutes, drove her further into tears. The thought alone stirred something inside of him.

The tension left Cara's body as her arms were freed, and she rubbed her abused muscles, cursing the bastards' existence. She would do all she could to never again make his acquaintance. He started the car as soon as she was seated.

She banged her head against the window as he suddenly leaned over her. "The hell are you doing? I knew it! You already changed your mind," She hissed, failing miserably to shove his hands away.

"Safety first." He purred, a low chuckle leaving his lips as he reached over and buckled her seatbelt in one swift movement. She sat straighter than she ever did her whole life and simply stared straight ahead. She decided that if she simply ignored his existence, he would cease to be, and she'd wake up from this horrible, horrible nightmare. Her body has to be taking revenge for all the heart-disease heavy foods she'd been stuffing herself with, concocting such an awful nightmare for her. How is this a wake-up call if she couldn't pinch even herself awake?

It took too much effort for Cara to keep her eyes on the road. She immediately attributed it to sitting next to a killer. There was definitely no other reason. She kept shifting in her seat, unable to stay still. On the other hand, Sherry was out cold in the back, a fuzzy blanket draped over her.

Cara's fidgeting halted as Wesker tossed something into her lap. She picked it up with furrowed brows, inspecting it. It was some kind of badge, but not just any badge. It identified him as Albert Wesker, captain of the STARS alpha team. It looked legit, something similar to what Chris was issued. She has a thousand questions, but the man with the answers was the most uncooperative bastard she ever met. One more question and she's sure he will throw her out of the moving car.

'He was a cop, a crooked one. How many more in the police could be trusted? Who could help her? Was Chris- No! he wouldn't be part of something like this.' Cara's thought, mind fighting itself, too many thoughts wanted to be the focus.

"You were quite the shatter box not too long ago. Why so quiet now?" Wesker asked, enjoying the sequence of emotions flicker across her face.

"You practically told me to shut up," she tossed the badge onto the dashboard before resting her head against the window. She knew she was in way over her head.

"I said to stop the questions. You can still talk,"

"No."

"Alright then, suit yourself then."

It must've been the warmth of the car or the fatigue of the night that lulled Cara to sleep because she was startled awake by a ridiculously high-speed bump. Her sleep hazed eyes scanned her surroundings before she sat up straight, recognizing where she was.

Wesker had parked the cruiser right in front of her apartment building, a living place for the lesser members of society as it was all they could afford. Her wide eyes found him, and she audibly swallowed. "How did you know where I live."

"Of course, I help my dear friend run background checks on all his employees. One in his position needs to be incredibly careful with whom he uses." Wesker said, reaching an arm to rest on the back of her seat. She recoiled away as if stung by a bee.

"Is this your home, Cara? Can I come with you?" Sherry asked, having woken from her sleep minutes before. She leaned forward, resting her chin on her uncle's muscular arm.

"I-"

"Maybe next time Sherry. After we drop off Cara here, we're going straight to your parents." Wesker said, a sense of finality in his tone that had the little girl obediently return to her seat.

Cara opened her mouth to protest him knowing her name but remembered his background check and shut her mouth. He must know everything legally in the record on her, including her parent's colorful histories.

Unbuckling his seatbelt, Cara was surprised to see him exit the car. He came around to her side and knocked on the window, mentioning for her to get out. He barely gave her space to get out as he stood right by the passenger door with his arm resting on the roof of the car. She was forced to brush past him as his towering frame refused to step back. She caught the scent of gunpowder, soap, and the faintest traces of a cologne. And of course, blood. Despite her terror, she found herself taking a deeper inhale than she intended.

"Tonight, you watched Sherry until her uncle came home, and then they gave you a ride home because of the rain. Nothing. Else. Happened. You understand?" Wesker said, bending down to be at eye level with the trembling girl. With surprising tenderness, he moved her hair out of her face, but his eyes were anything but. She stood very still, wishing the ground would swallow her up. Her attempt at looking away was met with a firm grip on her chin, forcing her to look at him. "Do I make myself clear?"

"Crystal." She answered, voice cracking under the weight of her emotions. A lump formed in her throat as her eyes welled up, but she refused to cry.

"Don't mess up if you can't handle the consequences." Satisfied with his work, he stepped away, watching as the girl raced home.

"You can be so mean, Uncle Albert," Sherry whined once the officer returned to the driver's seat.

"Really? I didn't notice."

#resident evil #Albert Wesker X OC #albert wesker

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surveys-at-your-service · 3 years

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Survey #405

“today i went to therapy, told him the embarrassing issues that i’m having with my life / he told me that i need to change; life is not a video game, so stop playing & open up your eyes”

What was your favourite sweet as a child? Things like Baby Bottle Pops, Ring Pops, Airheads, etc. Do you like to wear socks to bed? NOOOOOOO. I don't wear socks unless I have to. What’s your favourite berry? Strawberries. If you have a job, how long is your shift? I don't. Do you like sunflowers? Well yeah. Are you counting down for anything? No. Are you watching TV? What’s on? No. Do you have make-up on? No. I haven't worn makeup since last October. Are you any good with kids? People have told me I am, but I beg to differ. What if you had a baby with the last person you kissed? We're both cisgender women, we physically couldn't. Do you think you’ll be married in 5 years time? It'd be nice honestly, but I kinda doubt I will be. What is your favorite card game? Magic: The Gathering. What is the weirdest thing you’ve done in public? Ha, probably the times I've gotten down on the ground beside the road to photograph roadkill... More than once has someone stopped and asked if I was okay, haha. Favorite sleeping position? Twisted half on my side and stomach with my legs just sorta splayed out. What is your dad’s name? Ken. Have you ever been on a diet? Multiple times. Do you own any jersey shirts? No. Are you proud to be of the nationality you are? There are two moods I have on this: I'm either neutral or embarrassed. Can you remember what you last clapped for? Omg the woman who facilitates my TMS treatment was telling Mom and me about this one time a tiny snake got in the lobby and I did a lil squeal and clapped a bit because I was just excited to hear about a little snake, haha. What is the geekiest part of your music collection? *shrug* Maybe game soundtrack music. What do you eat when you raid the fridge late at night? Well, not really the fridge, but w/e. I'll usually get a granola bar or something of the sort. What is the little physical habit that gives away you're insecure moment? Kneading/wringing my hands together is a dead giveaway. Do you have too many love interests? No. How much money would it take to get you to give up the Internet for one year? If you want honesty... probably no amount would lmao. I rely way too heavily on the Internet for so many things. Do you talk a lot? It depends on my mood and who I'm around. Do transient, homeless, or starving people sometimes annoy you? What a fucking awful question. They don't annoy me. It can be awkward driving past them, but they're in no way annoying. Do you consider yourself to be a nice person? I definitely try to be. What is your ideal marriage location? Either a gothic-looking mansion or something of the sort or a wooded area in the fall. Do you tell your friends about your sex life? I don't have one to talk about. Would you ever admit to having done plastic surgery of any kind if confronted? Yeah? No shame. What kind of watch(es) do you wear? I don't wear watches. What do you cook the best? My family likes my scrambled cheesy eggs... basic as that is, haha. When my sisters would go to Taco Bell all the time and save the hot sauces for later use, I would use some packets in the eggs I cooked. Honestly amazing. What's one car you will never buy? "Anything that is two door, or low to the ground." <<<< This right here. On the other end of the spectrum, I also won't ever buy a car that's high up. I need a good medium so I can actually get in with ease. What's one thing you're a sore loser at? Hm, I dunno. What kind of first impression do you think you give to people? "Wow, she's awkward." What's one thing you like to do alone? Draw. When's the last time you cried? Not long ago at all because I was just so exasperated over my weight gain. Do you think you're cute? God no. Do you have problems changing clothes in front of friends? I don't change in front of anyone if I can avoid it. Did you like kissing the last person you kissed or the one before that more? The last person. I gotta say I was not a fan of kissing Girt because for whatever reason his lips were ALWAYS wetter than lips naturally should be and I just didn't dig it, man. That and every kiss with him was awkward. Whose bed other than yours did you last lay on? My mom's. What turns you off immediately? Acting sexist, to name one. Which city do you particularly enjoy visiting and for what reasons? I don't like going into cities. Do you often take pictures with the camera on your phone? No. I don't like the camera on my phone. In the past year, have you lost weight or gained weight? How much? Gained. You don't need to know. What year was the last car you rode in/drove? I have zero clue. What’s your worst/funniest experience with one of your neighbors? "Worst" and "funniest" are very different... but I can tell you the worst easily. At my childhood home, our next-door neighbors had a pair of Rottweilers in their back yard within a chain-link fence, and we had a LOT of outdoor cats at the time. (I will emphasize every time I bring it up to NOT keep cats outside.) Somehow the dogs got loose and went on a rampage trying to kill our cats; one young one was killed, while our fearless mother cat, Chance, literally fought them off to defend her new kittens. More were maybe killed, I honestly can't remember. My mom was hysterical and threatened to call animal control if it ever happened again. I was absolutely, utterly heartbroken. The last time you burned your tongue or mouth, what were you eating? Ummm I want to say it was some sort of pasta that I didn't let cool long enough. Honestly, are you shallow? Far from it, honestly. Can/could your parents tell when you were lying? Not always. Besides clothes, shoes, and accessories, what’s your favorite thing to shop for? I love window-shopping at Morph Market, haha. AAAAAAAAAALL those ball python morphs, man... *drools* Does/did your parents ever go through your computer or cell phone? When I was younger, Mom was very intent on figuring out why I was always so secretive about what I did on the computer (mostly RP-related things) that ohhhh yeah, she'd do some digging. The night she finally snapped, demanding I tell her my passwords to everything, and she ultimately found out about me being a forum RPer, was literally almost traumatic to me, I think. I know, that sounds INCREDIBLY overdramatic, but I'm not fucking joking. I was in my room SOBBING on my best friend's shoulder, who was spending the night. I was just so embarrassed, and I *still* am when I share that fact with people I know, even though I have no reason to be. Like I don't do any weird or kinky RP shit, it's just genuine, artistic writing with actual, well thought-out plots, but I still feel like people would think it dumb, childish, and just weird. What song reminds you the most of a particular day in your life? Why is that? "Stairway to Heaven" by Led Zeppelin. I've talked about it a few times before and really don't feel like doing it again. Do you have any close friends that were adopted? I don't think so. Who, in your opinion, is the best thriller writer? I don't know. Does your mom eat meat? Yeah. Was your dad ever on a sports team? Lots in high school, I believe. Do you prefer thick or thin crusted pizza? Thick, by a long shot. What do you have in your fruit salads? Not a fan of fruit salads. Have you ever spent more than two weeks in a wheelchair? I've only needed a wheelchair once in my life, and that was just to get inside and maneuver around the doctor's office when I tore a ligament in my foot. So no. What are your favorite word? Serendipity, tranquility, lucid, etc.; pretty, peaceful words like those. Is there a lot of drama in your life? Nope. I don't do enough or have enough people in my life for there to be. What are you listening to? An extended version of "Nightsong" from WoW. Do you hear any animals right now? No. I'm sure I'd hear birds if I didn't have my earplugs in, though. Have you ever played fetch with a dog? Yes. Have you ever pet a stingray? No. Who is the last baby you held? Emerson, my youngest niece. Do you have any scars from an animal? Yeah; I've got looooots from my cat playing too rough. Have you ever seen an Igloo? I don't believe so. Do you like Korn? They're high on my list of faves. Are you more afraid of tornadoes or hurricanes? Absolutely tornadoes. Do you like mushrooms? Ugh, NO. Have you ever been on Omegle? No. So do you have a favorite M&M? Just the regular ones. Have you ever snuck out? No. Do you currently feel like you have pretty stable career goals/a pretty stable life plan? Have you ever felt this way? I don't know, man. I know what I WANT to do, I just don't know if I'm ever going to get there. Or if what I want will be financially supportive enough, now that I'm really losing interest in photographing people. I might just have to if I want to be financially stable with photography, which would be okay, but bleh. I'd much rather just work with nature. If you could buy an android that was was convincingly human and could be tailored to be your perfect partner, would you want one? No. I don't want to build my own partner, nor do I want my romantic partner to be an android. I want life to just introduce me to a person who is uniquely themselves, who have built themselves from their own life experiences, and not just have a perfect spouse tailored to everything I like. If you do not identify as being “straight,” can you remember back to your childhood some things you did that were, in hindsight, possible indicators of your future sexuality? Yes, especially in middle school. I thought women were prettier than probably a straight kid would, and looking back, I definitely found the natural curves of the female figure to be attractive. When you consume media (movies, books, etc.) with a romantic element, what sort of romance scenarios interest you most? Hm. I know I prefer serious ones over silly; like I'm a sucker for Nicholas Sparks' style, if that says anything. If you are female, do you feel connected to other women as a class? What sort of things make you feel a strong sense of sisterhood or female empowerment? This is too big of a question for me to feel like delving into right now, haha. But I can say it more so depends on the individual than the gender when it comes to feeling connection over anything.

#survey #surveys #random questions #lyrics: ''game over'' by falling in reverse

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dammitadolfnomorecake · 4 years

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Once Bitten, Twice Stupid prt.18

Keith was freaking the fuck out. He’d dropped the styrofoam cup of tea, probably a good thing considering he didn’t know how to brew tea, and now Keith found himself with an armful of bat, and Lance’s clothes pooled on the floor by his feet. What the hell was Lance thinking transforming where everyone could see?! He’d been loosening up, but now what the hell was he supposed to do about this?

Gathering up Lance’s clothes, a shoe was dropped somewhere along the way as Keith fled into the closet bathroom. Lance was making all kinds of weird noises, and what the heck was he supposed to do about it? Shiro didn’t give him directions on looking after a bat! How...? What...? He was supposed to kill vampires, not keep them alive! Training didn’t tell them how to not kill a vampire or torture them. Lance had ruined everything with his stupid niceness. If Lance didn’t turn back, he couldn’t keep training with him. He needed Lance to get stronger. Shiro had lost Adam and Keith had been useless. He wouldn’t let Shiro lose anyone else.

Squeaking loudly, bat Lance fought as he tried to bury himself up near Keith’s armpit. His sharp little claws catching in Keith’s skin. First thing was first, this bat needed to chill the fuck out... in the form of being wrapped up in Lance’s obnoxious green jacket. The thing was deader than roadkill, clearly well loved and worn. The second thing was calling Shiro. Lance would have been annoyed with him if he knew he’d had a way of contacting Shiro the whole time. Shiro had told him to watch Lance. Not to be forced into being nice to Lance and his friends... which he’d annoyingly found himself drawn too. He couldn’t afford to have friends. Friends were weakness.

Lance objected to being wrapped up, squeaking loudly

“Oh, shut up. I’m calling Shiro”

If a bat could cry, which Keith had no idea if they could, he’d have thought that maybe Lance was crying. The undead arsehole had too many emotions. Sitting on the toilet lid, he hugged Lance with his free arm, retrieving his phone out his pocket and raising it to his eye. A quick scan confirmed his identity, his phone unlocking to reveal the background of the Blade of Marmora logo. He’d worked his arse off to get into the Blade. Harder than any of the others, but it never seemed enough. Thumbing through his phone, Keith took a deep breath. He wasn’t supposed to call Shiro unless it was a dire emergency. Other hunters were aware of Lance. His safety couldn’t be guaranteed. He wasn’t... he was a lame vampire. No great house with servants. Just a weird cat that liked to attack Keith’s toes.

Calling Shiro, the hunter let it ring half a dozen times before hanging up, Shiro calling him straight back. It was their code. If it was ultra life threatening, he didn’t hang up. If Shiro didn’t answer then Keith generally panicked himself into leaving an overly aggressive message, because he wasn’t losing his brother like they’d lost Adam. Ringing and hanging up was Keith’s “I need to fucking talk to you, you wanker. Call me back or I’ll stab you” approach to things. Not quite an emergency of epic proportions, not quite not an emergency of epic proportions

“Keith?“

“Lance-is-a-bat-and-I-don’t-know-what-to-do”

“What?”

“Lance is a bat. Like an actual bat. He said he couldn’t turn into a bat. But he’s a bat. Shiro, what the hell do I do with this?”

“He’ll turn back on his own. Let him loose in his room, and keep Blue away”

“That’s not very helpful! We’re not at his house. We’re at the fucking hospital. His mother had a fall and he’s been sick, like really sick, and now he’s a bat!”

“Whoa, kiddo. Take a breath”

Keith glared at Lance, he wouldn’t be like this if Lance wasn’t so damn weird

“Shiro. I need help”

“I know, I heard you. Now, what do you mean Lance has been sick?”

Keith didn’t know about daily vampire life, because normally his targets were dead by now

“He’s drinking more blood. He’s having nightmares. He seems really lethargic. His Mami is in hospital and he was a wreck so I drove him. I don’t know what happened but he came out and turned into a bat”

Shiro gave a heavy sigh. Keith wished he was right there next to him. He missed his brother so goddamn much. He didn’t blame Shiro for leaving him behind, but he didn’t have the people skills his brother had, nor did he know what to do now his body was changing into something else. He knew Lance was lying. He hadn’t felt the same as before his blood got into his cut hand

“He turned into a bat after he fed on you. It seems to happen when he reaches his emotional threshold. I’m going to send you somewhere to get help. They’ll be able to help him, and you’ll be safe there too”

“We’re not coming to you, are we?”

Shiro sighed again

“No. It’ll be another few days yet. You can do this, Keith. Keep your cool and I’ll be home as soon as I can”

“I don’t know what I’m doing. His friends want to be friends and he’s like... he’s got emotions...”

“You’ll be fine. Here, I want you to go to the address I’m about to send you to. It’s Vatican Ordained. Showing them your credentials will be enough. I’ve got to go. Remember, you’ve got this and I’m proud of you”

“I...”

“Patience yields focus. Never forget that”

Keith hated each time their phone calls ended. Lance was stupid, but he had a point. Yeah, he had enough trauma to sink a ship. And a boat load of issues to go along with it

“Shiro’s sending us somewhere safe. Just... try not to kill me or bite me...”

Stupid vampires. Why’d he have to make things complicated by not being a blood sucking family ruining beast?! Instead he was some... cranky stranger who kept either being weirdly nice or hostile for no good reason. Keith’s phone dinged with the address, thankfully it wasn’t across the city. Lance’s bronco was like trying to drive a damn tank. The second hand thing they’d been driving the night they tracked down Lance actually belonged to a lesser hunter, who’d been some kind of a friend of a friend to Shiro. He’d shown them how to damage the wires enough that they could drive but once they stopped that’d be it. In another life Keith had entertained being a mechanic, he loved pulling apart his bike in his apartment. Shiro had always worried he’d get himself into an accident, Adam had been planning on trying to talk to him about switching to something “safer” before he lost his life. Now was not the time to be remembering. He had a dumb vampire to save... Fucking Lance had flipped his world upside down... or was it the vampire in his blood responding to his sire being in danger? Fucking Lance.

Pulling up in front of “Castle Altea”, Keith was sure Shiro had sent him to wrong place until he saw the Blade of Marmora sticker on the window. The place looked like some weird bookshop that was bound to be full of wannabe witches. Lance hadn’t wanted to settle the whole drive. He’d pretty much wriggled his way out of his jacket, now curled up and cling to Keith as he still made those god awful squeaks. Wrapping his jacket around the bat, Keith zipped it up enough to hide Lance in a very conspicuous bludge at the front. If the place belonged to the Vatican, then it should be safe. Sure, he technically worked for them, but it wasn’t like he’d ever met the pope, nor was he a regular in church. He’d stuffed up the night he’d met Lance. He was supposed to inject himself with synthetic adrenaline, but used the needle he had prepared for Lance instead. A very painful blunder to his name.

Letting himself into the bookstore, Keith headed over to the counter. The woman there looking at him in confusion. Right. Credentials. Pulling his phone out, he unlocked it again, before opening up his ID

“I need to see someone about a bat issue”

“Through the doors at the end”

That wasn’t very helpful. The hunter couldn’t help but feel he was walking into a trap. More so when he stepped into the elevator and found it lacking in buttons.

Riding the elevator down, there wasn’t even the cheap music there to distract him from Lance. The small body felt too warm to be that of a vampire. They were as cold as they were cold hearted. As the elevator came to a stop, Keith was nearly reaching for his blade hidden in his boot. The doors opened to reveal an overly bright office of sorts, a tall man with wild orange hair stopping mid pace to stare at him

“You’re not Lance”

So they knew Lance?! What kind of place had Shiro sent him too?!

“You know Lance?”

“I know you’re the second person to show up driving his car...”

Shiro would have been the first...

“I need help”

“Come this way, my boy. I’m Coran Hieronymus Wimbleton the Third. By any chance, would you happen to be Keith?”

This guy was way too friendly. Keith stepping out the elevator

“You know me?”

“I had the pleasure of meeting your brother before. Now, what’s happening to our young Lance?”

Falling into step with Coran happened too easily. Keith unzipping his jacket to reveal Lance’s head

“He turned into a bat”

Coran peered down Keith’s jacket, Lance still snuggled against him

“He did what now? Oh my, that’s unusual”

What?! Coran was supposed to help, not make it sound like a first!

“Can you help him?”

“Never fear, boy! We’ll get to the bottom of this, or my name isn’t Coran Hieronymus Wimbleton the Third. This organisation was built by my Pop-Pop!”

Wasn’t “Wimbleton” the name where those rich people played tennis? It didn’t sound like much of a middle name... who carried that name on? Coran was clearly some kind of non-human. He carried himself weirdly...

“You... know Lance, right? You’re not... going to experiment on him, are you?”

Coran laughed

“No, no. No more than usual. I must say, you’re not what I was expecting”

Keith had heard that his whole life. Usually when people expected more of him, the comment causing a knee jerk reaction to anger

“What do you mean like that? Because I’m a hunter and not a monster?”

Coran pinched the right end of his ridiculously groomed moustache

“Not at all my boy. Lance was quite distressed having bit you. Suffered quite a bit. I don’t suppose you know how his arm healed up? Allura has been quite worried about him”

“His arm?”

And who or what was an “Allura”?

“Yes. He’s had a bit of a struggle with his teeth. A few teething issues. Not used to a fresh feed, so to speak. Very traumatic for him”

Keith had called bullshit over Lance never having fed from a human. Vampires had zero impulse control. Then again, when he’d cut himself on the mug, Lance hadn’t tried to drink instead he’d run away. Lance had never fed... at all... from a human?

“He’s never bitten a human? How do you know that for sure? Surely he had to have”

“Nope. He’s quite unique in that respect. It tore him apart that he had to bite you. He’s always been a soft and kind boy. Mercury, nasty stuff when mixed with blood. Ah well, best I stop talking about his secrets. Lance is quite the popular vampire here. He’d held onto his human roots quite tightly, never letting himself have much of anything”

He had a nice enough house, maybe a bit old, but nice enough. It had four walls and ceiling, without leaks... so it did it’s job fine...

“How long have you known him?”

“Oh, must be on 36 years now. But that’s his story to share. Lance, you’re going to be okay. He seems very attached to you”

“I wish he wasn’t. His claws are sharp”

“Once we’re somewhere a little more comfortable, we’ll try removing him. I wonder if this is to do with the changes in his levels. Tell me, what has Lance been like over the last two weeks?”

It was probably okay to confide in Coran, but Keith barely knew the man. He didn’t know how he fit in with the Blades, or is he really was a friend. If he was, why hadn’t Lance tried to fly to Coran? But Coran clearly knew and liked Lance. This was where he needed a people person... This was where he knew Shiro

“No offence, but I just met you. How can I trust you so soon?”

“Very wise. You are in dangerous territory associating with the very vampire you were sent to slay”

He needed a way in. A way to prove Coran had known Lance as long as he claimed

“So you know about Nyma and Rolo?”

Coran’s eyes immediately widened, his face loosing some of its colour before he composed himself

“Lance told you about his sires? He must trust you very deeply to mention that particular topic”

Keith had wondered if Nyma and Rolo were Lance’s sires from his behaviour. Coran confirming it made him feel guilty as it wasn’t Lance himself telling him

“I wouldn’t say that... I don’t know him, but he hasn’t seemed well. He’s... seemed really tired. And he hurt his arm. He got blood everywhere... and when I cut my hand he didn’t want to feed”

“I suspect that took a great deal of willpower on his behalf. Not all vampires can deny the call of blood. He did have some issues after he fed on your blood, with the mercury in your system, yet he should have improved after having his blood changed”

Lance had had what done? His blood changed? Did that mean Keith’s blood was changing too because he was part vampire now? He’d toned down questioning his sir so Lance would train with him

“I have no idea what you mean”

“Ah, yes, not a common procedure. It involves draining the individual entirely of blood before new blood is run into the body though an IV system. The whole process takes roughly twelve hours from start to finish. Here, this is my personal examination room. Allura should be along quite soon”

There was something seedy sounding about a “personal examination room”, the room proving to be a small examination room as one would expect to find at a doctor’s surgery

“Go ahead and take a seat”

Whenever Keith heard that he was always tempted to take the physician’s seat instead of the ones beside the desk like he was meant to. He tried it once, and had gotten a very stale laugh and told to move. Some people had no sense of humour. Humouring Coran, Keith sat in the closer of the two chairs beside the desk

“Very good. Now, I don’t suppose you’d mind zipping down your jacket. I want to take a look at Lance”

Keith didn’t know why he did mind, making himself angry over it. Lance was a vampire, his sword enemy, he wasn’t attached to the man in the slightest, but some kind of desire to protect him had welled and as much as he wanted to deny it, it’s ugly unwanted head kept popping up. Forcing himself to unzip his jacket, Lance squeaked harder than ever

“Oh, my. He certain is a bat”

No shit

“Lance, you’re okay. You’re safe here, it’s Coran. I’m going to touch you now, but you’re safe. Nothing’s going to harm you”

Lance clung to Keith’s shirt as Coran tried to pull him away. He looked absolutely miserable and very sorry for himself

“Well that’s odd. He’s usually much warmer when he visits. Perhaps he’ll warm up to Allura. Best let him sit there for a while longer”

Without the jacket to keep him in place, Lance slipped a little, Keith moving his hand to Lance’s back

“What’s wrong with him?”

“That, my dear boy, is the million dollar question. Now, you say he’s been quite unwell of late. No doubt he’s extremely stressed and distressed. A vampire never forgets, and if he’s dreaming of his sires, he’s forced to relive those horrible memories again and again”

That didn’t sound fun... maybe... maybe fighting Lance daily as training really had been too much for him. Lance seemed pretty vocal about voicing his dislikes, but it was hard to tell when “no” really meant no. Lance would tell him he hadn’t cooked him anything for breakfast, but when Keith went to make something he found Lance already had made him something. Keith didn’t understand him... He just... needed him. Disturbingly he... he kind of... maybe... acknowledged Lance wasn’t the vampire monster he though he’d be. He had two humans as best friends, but he didn’t feed on them. He didn’t seem to have them under his control... and... he hadn’t turned his mother. Wasn’t that something they did when a family member was sick? A quick turn and they’d be happy and healthy forever? He was weird, tall, loud and dorky... It made Keith’s head hurt trying to think about it.

“Keith?”

Keith blinked are Coran

“Sorry, what’s was that?”

“I asked how Lance has been of late. Has he been showing any other symptoms, like his facial features?”

“He was all fangy today... His mother had a bad fall, and his fangs were out... and I think he’s been drinking a lot more too”

“Lance generally has exceptional control of those instincts. He’s a fine example of a turned vampire leading a normal life. He keeps his ego in check, always willing come to see me when things get too much. I suspect he felt scared too on the chance he led you here”

“He doesn’t know... that you guys have hunters here?”

Wasn’t that basically lying to Lance? Telling him he was safe when there people here who’d gladly chop his head off...

“It’s a little complicated. The kind of thing only for those in know. Everyone here adores him, so it hasn’t been necessary to discuss it. We provide help to all magical beings, and hunters alike. In some circumstances we unfortunately have to be the ones to make that call. Had a nasty vampire nest back in the 1900’s that made that kind of thing a necessity. He’s really been a model citizen. Feeding from a human for the first time is highly addictive to most vampires. Lance has been on blood bags since the age of 8. I suspect if he was anyone else, you wouldn’t have been so lucky”

Keith kind of felt even worse hearing it from Coran, there was something in his purple eyes that tugged at him. Keith had spent years discriminated against thanks to his eyes, but now he felt a longing, as if Coran might understand him... which was ridiculous...

“I got the syringes wrong. I was supposed to take the synthetic adrenaline. The mercury and silver were for him”

His confession rolled off his tongue, Keith’s cheeks heating up, flaring into a burning warmth as Coran laughed openly

“It’s not that funny”

“Oh, my boy. I don’t know what they’ve been teaching you. Whilst mercury certainly makes vampires ill, and silver can be just as bad in large doses, both have a far lesser effect on those turned. Lance barely reacts to silver outside a small amount of irritation. Mercury was much more effective. Everything is more effective once blood is added. That’s why he fell so ill”

They had theory classes, but Keith was always better in combat. He had Shiro to teach him... plus his teachers said he had disciplinary issues. He’d been told if he didn’t up his grades, he’d loose his current ranking. If he did that then he might be split from Shiro permanently. Shiro would worry too much if that happened, he wouldn’t be safe because he’d be distracted. Out of the two of them, Adam had always been smarter and calmer. Shiro was much warmer and calming, more down to earth and not off reading ridiculous ancient texts. All that reading and Adam had still ended up dead. Every time someone got close to him, they seemed to end up hurt or dead. Lance shouldn’t be clinging to him. He was going to the reason Lance ended up dead. He was supposed to have killed him, burned the house and left town long ago. Not got all tangled up in this...

With a light knock the door, a smiling woman let herself into the room

“Ah, Allura. Right on time. Keith was just telling me about Lance. Seems we should have called him back in sooner”

Allura’s face lit up, Keith holding Lance a little closer to him. This woman seemed smitten

“Oh, my! Oh, Coran, he looks positively precious”

“Eptesicus fuscus, if I’m not mistaken”

“You would have thought, Vampyrum spectrum. Lance has always loved a cliche. Oh, look at him, Coran. He seems very much attached to Keith”

“Vampyrum” had to mean vampire. We’re they trying to... identify Lance? A bat was a bat? It made noise, shat, and flew. That was kind of it. Lance squeaked, Keith realising he might have been holding Lance a little tight

“Ah, yes. Well, it really is rather a lottery when it comes to shape shifting. Let’s be glad he’s a bat and not some kind of wolf”

“I never thought I’d see this happen. Lance has always had such control over himself”

“Keith mentioned that he hadn’t been feeling himself of late”

“Feeding from a human really was rather traumatic for him. Lance, it’s Allura, will you come to me?”

“He seems... uh, pretty settled...”

Keith was confused by the look shared between Allura and Coran. He wasn’t holding Lance because he liked him. Lance just seemed like he really didn’t want to move. That was all. And Lance was his prey. His problem to deal with, when Shiro finally came home to tell him how they were dealing with it

“I don’t intend to hurt him. Lance, it’s Allura. Can you come to me? I need to take a little look at you. Make sure you haven’t hurt yourself transforming like this”

“He... has this sore on his arm that came up... I don’t know long he had it, he usually has his arms covered...”

Lance squeaked loudly, as if telling Keith to stop dobbing him in

“He was supposed to rest that arm and take it easy. Did he rest in his grave soil?”

“I think so? He buried himself in the garden for a night... is this because he turned me? Is that why he’s sick?”

Allura giggled as she reached for Lance, Lance flapping his wings as he tried to hold onto Keith

“Keith, can you unhook his nails, please. He won’t be happy, but he can go straight back to you once I’ve examined him”

“Why did you laugh?”

Lance cast him a pleading look as Keith tried to unhook Lance, before giving up and awkwardly struggling both his shirt and jacket off. He didn’t have the greatest body, not with the battle scars across his smooth pale flesh. Pulling his jacket back on, the hunter zipped it all the way up. He hadn’t signed up for a strip show. Carrying an angry Lance to the examination table, Coran moved to Allura’s side, both too busy to look at him. Lance was not having a fun time

“You don’t seriously think you’re a vampire, do you?”

Adam had said he wasn’t... he’d lured Shiro home... trying to keep himself a live at the cost of Shiro. Shiro refused to tell him everything that had happened, Keith hurt because Adam had pretty much been his brother-in-law. Sometimes like a dad, sometimes like an uncle, and always finding something to scold him over

“His blood...”

“My boy, you’d certainly know if you turned. Blood roaring in your ears. Skin feeling as if it was boiling off your bone. Teeth, long and hollow, perfect for sucking on your sweet blood! Senses so heightened the world seems like a whole new place. The smell of death upon your skin. Other vaguely creepy things. Perhaps we should have Keith hold him, he seems very distressed”

Allura nodded, her bottom lip trapped in her teeth as she worried over not hurting Lance.

Keith wasn’t about to take the words of a complete stranger as law. His body was going through changes, whether everyone around him believed it or not. Lance was trying to remain hidden in Keith’s shirt, little wings flapping helplessly

“I’ll hold him”

“Good. Come here, sit up here next to him”

Coran agreed so readily Keith would have raised an eyebrow, instead, he was too busy attempting not to look as worried as he was. What if Lance never turned back? What was he going to tell Hunk and Pidge? Blue was okay, but she wasn’t his cat. He didn’t even know how to look after a pet. Adam said it was cruel with how little time they spent at home. Keith had always wanted a dog, but Blue was kind of cool. She purred super loudly, and drooled on his fingers when he scratched her chin...

Sitting himself beside Lance, Lance nosed at Keith’s leg through the confines of the shirt. Allura and Coran were both reading far too much into things as they smiled fondly at the moving bundle

“Try lifting him up. I want to check him, so hold him facing towards me”

“You’re not going to hurt him, right?”

“No, no. But I do think I know why he was so hesitant to come to me. I probably still smell like werewolf to him”

“There’s werewolves here?”

Allura nodded

“Just the one at the moment. I don’t know if you’ve ever had to deal with a werewolf that’s got a cavity, but it is not fun. Thankfully he was drugged for the procedure and the tooth came out easily”

Keith didn’t know if that was a joke or not. He’d never thought about werewolves getting cavities before... He’d never thought of a lot of things before. Lifting his the neck of his shirt, Lance squeaked at him

“If you bite me, I’m going to throw you. Just so you know. I don’t like bats and I don’t like idiot vampires that turn into bats in the middle of a public space”

Lance gave him a sad look, Keith summoning up his courage as he held his hand out. Sniffing his fingers, the bat gradually crawled close enough for Keith to lift him

“You bite me, you fly. Understood?”

Holding Lance around the stomach, Allura smiled down at him

“There you are. I know you’re probably really scared right now, but it’s okay. You’re in a safe place”

Both her and Coran had said that enough that Keith wondered if it was some kind of spell. Taking Lance’s left wing, she gently stretched it out, Lance protesting in squeaks

“I know. Coran, that wound should have healed by now. Especially if he’s been drinking more blood. Lance, you’re not going to like me very much, but I’m going to give you a shot to help with the healing. And take a little blood for analysis. Don’t worry, Keith isn’t going anywhere”

Coran prepared the needles, Lance squeaking as he tilted his head up to look at Keith

“Don’t give me those eyes. Shiro told me to bring you here for both our sakes. It’d be nice if you could get your shit together. I’m sure your Mami wants to see you as soon as you’re human again”

“That’s right. How was she?”

“The nurse said she’d fractured her hip, and she’d done a number on her face”

Coran sighed

“Miriam’s always been such a strong woman. Alas, time marches on for all”

“You know her?”

“Oh, yes. Allura and I were quite fond of her. Lance was turned quite young after all. I’ve known her as long as I’ve known him. She’s a tough one. Stayed by his side through all of it, she was quite forceful in ensuring her son was fed and protected. I might pop by later and pay her a visit”

“And the rest of his family?”

Coran’s smile faltered

“Ah, best let him tell you about that when he’s ready. Rightyo, Lance this will all be over rather quickly, then you can take a little rest here with Keith while we wait for the results”

Lance didn’t love the injections. His little claws scratched at Keith’s arms, yet surprisingly he didn’t squeak at having his blood taken or the following injection. He seemed to have squeaked himself out, head turned and buried against the zipper of Keith’s jacket. Coran gave his head a little scratch as he leaned into stick his face right up in the side of Lance’s

“Good boy. I’ll get you a saucer of blood. Keith, do you mind if I take a sample of your blood? Your brother mentioned you seemed to think something was changing within your body. It’s highly unlikely it’s vampire related, but we need our hunters fighting fit”

“You’re not going to curse me or something are you?”

“Good heavens! Of course not. You are quite the paranoid man. We may be fae, but gosh, no, we’re not that uncivilised”

Whelp. He’s hurt Coran’s feelings. Keith wasn’t completely sure what a “fae” was. He was specialising in vampires, after Adam was turned everything else fell away. Vampires had ripped his family apart, they all deserve to pay. That’s why he couldn’t afford to be soft towards Lance. Lance was a vampire and vampires were always bad news.

#once bitten twice stupid #ashratherose #klance #vampire Lance #idiot boyfriends to be #hunter keith #mpreg #mentioned later chapters #on ao3

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omenapologist-moved · 4 years

Audio

Rabbit: Second Statement of “Mira”

Lost statement which was recovered in the depths of the Magnus Institute. This is one of few tapes we were able to recover. This tape appeared to have been slightly damaged in storage, but the integrity of the audio recording remains.

Statement begins.

Once again, I find myself here in this pleather seat, in front of you. Stoic as always. Removed from the situation I am about to relay to you. You try and look like you aren't bothered by my words, but the slight tremble in your voice betrays you. But even more than that, it's the look in your eyes. Your doe-like eyes, Archivist. Big and round and deep and full of fear like a little prey animal when faced with the barrel of a gun.

But don't worry, I'm not here to torment you or to further comment on your striking resemblance to that which torments me. Some... Interesting things have happened since I was last seated across the table from you. This update I bring is mostly a formality. I expect these tapes to be the only record of my existence, or rather, the only record of this incarnation of myself, of Mira, in due time. I've traveled to many more towns, worn a few different faces since the last time we spoke. Well, the last time I spoke at you, if we wanted to be more technical about it.

...Does my face look the same to you? I don't even recognize that I have one anymore. It is not something I worry about, particularly when I am alone to my thoughts. Who I am when I am alone does not matter, just as it doesn't matter whether or not a tree makes a noise when it falls in a forest and no one is around. It is when I am around others that who I am matters.

To you, I am Mira. The strange little taxidermist that kept running over innocent animals with their car, had a psychotic break, and skipped town over and over again. At least that is what you tell yourself to avoid confronting the greater other, that which I am and that which I am not. You try and be skeptical, Archivist, but I can tell it is mostly to hide your fear... But you didn't say no when I came back.

My apologies, I said I wasn't here to torment you. It's just a little funny.

I've poked and prodded and beaten around the bush long enough.

It's been nearly three years in total now since I left a life I once said was mine. I found a picture of that person in an old notebook the other day, and it was not me, and I am fine with that now. Every day I become more and more of a stranger to myself, and that is okay.

I have become content with my life's path once again.

I have rediscovered an old hobby.

For these past years, every time I saw that deer, I would look at it in its beautiful eyes that looked too much like mine and I would slam my foot on the gas and stare it down as I ran it over. I got better at causing less damage to my car over time. I'm amazed it's survived all the collisions. I'm amazed I have survived all the collisions.

I came close a few times to being hit by an oncoming car, or veering directly into a tree, or the hooves of the animal smashing their way through my windshield and crushing my throat under their keratinous force. It felt as though the universe were holding me in its cold arms and sheltering me from the worst of these impacts, just so that I could be where I am today.

The last few times I caused steel to collide with flesh, an itch grew upon me. Something I had not felt in quite some time. A desire once more to create, to peel away the soft, gentle fur of a little creature until its pink muscle is bared to the world and eaten by flies and maggots and carrion crows. To stretch its skin taut and stitch it back together, to have those glassy eyes once again staring me down from every crevice of my home.

I resisted it at first. I knew I'd be a failure to it, that it would hate me, its cruel father, for condemning it once more to walk the Earth in such a terrible form. Legs a few half-inches too long, lips that were meant to be drawn into a contemplative expression stiffly stitched into a grimace, and those eyes...

But then, in a town where I wore the face of a happy-go-lucky bartender named Elijah, one of the stray cats I had been leaving food out for presented me with a gift. A freshly-caught little rabbit. I remembered how it felt to process such a creature. The fur of rabbits is so soft, softer than anything synthetic, but you have to be careful when you de-flesh the hide. The skin is so thin and tender and prone to tearing with the slightest nick, and if you are enough of an amateur such as myself you can ruin the whole hide.

But once it is done it is such a precious little thing. So soft, but less... Frantic than it was in life.

No little panicked rabbit heartbeat.

Just silence and softness.

I wrapped the little thing in a plastic bag and I put it in my freezer, and the next day I went to the store and bought the barest of supplies. The tan would be nothing impressive, I wasn't even sure if it would last given the exceptionally low quality of the alum I had purchased, but it was worth a try, I thought.

Somehow, it was worse than my previous specimens. The eyes squinted at me and they scorned me and they judged me not just for the sin of stuffing this creature but for all of the sins I had committed since pursuing this hobby. The skin itself had cured just fine, and yet the fur was falling out in chunks. I was eventually left with a thing that hardly resembled a rabbit anymore at all, but for the two unmistakable ears protruding from the top of its head.

Most of it was bald flesh, translucent. The cheap floral foam I had used to sculpt the form it was stitched onto cast it in a ghastly green hue, and without the bulk of the fur to hide my errors every little imperfection shone through. The light tan stitching holding the piece together made it reminiscent of a recently autopsied corpse rather than a piece of taxidermy. I could see the full resin orb of its eyes through the skin, wide in terror at my sins.

What have you done.

But somehow, I was not discouraged. I gave the blasphemous excuse for a piece of art a prominent place on my bookshelf. To remind me of my work, and that I had far to go.

Several days after, one of my coworkers invited me to an outing after work. The face I wore wouldn't say no, and so despite myself I accepted. I had yet again started keeping some meager supplies for the collection of roadkill in my car, but had yet to find any salvageable specimens.

The outing doesn't matter. My presence was ultimately only so that I may be the vessel of that which they wished me to be, so I played my role and I played it well. I socialized, and joked, and was informed sometime afterwards I had been the life of the party. Good for them to get such use out of me. By the time I left the party, it was well after dark.

Despite my best attempts in the contrary, I had found myself in a fairly rural area once more. Not that being in the city had kept the deer from pursuing me, of course. It would always find me. The red of blood and peeling mint-green of my car made quite the contrast. One I became used to with time.

I was driving home from the aforementioned outing. It had rained earlier that day and the yellow tinted light from the occasional street lamp danced somberly upon the wet asphalt. The road to the ramshackle motel I was staying in was a lonesome one. I was accompanied only by the watchful birch trees and my own thoughts, which had grown fuzzier as of late. A dull hum in the back of my mind, intrusive thoughts blending with my own until I couldn't tell where I ended and the other began.

The sky was black and starless, the typical countless pinpricks of light obscured by oppressive storm clouds threatening to release another downpour. The typical yellow lines that divided the road were worn away in this area, neglected asphalt riddled with potholes of varying but always hazardous sizes.

The black of the road and the black of the sky blended into an all-consuming void, the shimmer of my headlights on the wet road the only stars in sight. Ghostly birch trees stood as sentinels on either side of the road, observing me as they did every other passerby. As I progressed to my destination the trees became thicker and taller and the road became skinnier and more perilous.

As they had promised, the clouds above unleashed their storm upon me. I turned on my high-beams and proceeded through the downpour.

In the distance, something on the shoulder of the road caught the light emanating from my car. Two perfect circles of light flashed. Animal eyes. I knew what would come next. The deer with my eyes would walk onto the middle of the road, and it would wait for the kiss of hard metal against its soft flesh and strong but not strong enough bones, and it would die there on that road and be gone by morning, and I would wash its blood from my car and pay for the repairs I needed to pay for, and I would pack up again and I would move town and change my name and my face to suit the next group of people that I would find myself amongst.

No.

No, I decided.

That was enough. I had enough.

The deer looked at me in the same way it always looked at me. Its eyes were more mine than they ever had been, full of a very, very human hatred.

My heart beat in time with the pace of my windshield wipers as they swept the rain from my field of vision. I stared at the deer in waiting of its own demise. I gripped the steering wheel until my knuckles were white, skin taut like that of a taxidermied rabbit around its form, translucent and pale and cold. I pressed my foot onto the pedal until it was flush with the floorboard. I felt the car lurch forward, taking a moment to make purchase with the rain-sodden road.

I felt every moment of the impact, this time. I heard as the plastic and metal on the front of my car were wrought around the cervine's fragile frame. The doe slid onto the hood of my car, and as it did I became closer to its eyes than I ever had been and how they burned, Archivist.

As the skull of the creature made impact with the glass barrier separating the two of us, its eyes did not close, the glass windshield spider-webbing around where the deer had collided with it. It remained in one piece, but only barely. The car slid along the slick road, and I slammed on the breaks. My nose smashed into the steering wheel, eliciting a trickle of blood to spout forth from it. The slain animal slid from the front of my vehicle, propelled forward by the remaining velocity.

The vehicle finally finished its motion, and sat under the rain. Again, there was silence.

I wiped the blood from my nose, and I leaned over to my glove box, and I retrieved my skinner knife and my spare needles and thread, and out there on that lonesome road in the middle of the rain I began my masterpiece.

The deer was dead. Its eyes were still open. I had never in all this time seen them shut. Despite the fire behind them having been extinguished by my own hand, they still burned.

I would give it a reason to hate me.

#tma #the magnus archives #fanpod #the stranger #tma oc #oc: mira

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theonewiththefanfics · 5 years

Text

Hawkins’ Charm (Part 6/?)

Synopsys: They had gotten out of Hawkins. After all the shit that had happened, all the heartache and pain, Billy and the Reader had gotten away from that hellhole, building their life in California as he had dreamed. But when Max’s graduation rolls around and they go to celebrate, it’s as if the Upside Down was just waiting for all of them to return. And it has a bone to pick.

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x f!Reader; platonic!Steve Harrington x f!Reader

Genre: angst, lil bit of fluff

Warnings: blood, mentions of injuries and death, fighting, swearing, implied stuff, smoking

Word count: 3319

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT CONDONE BILLY’S ACTIONS AND THE THINGS HE’S DONE! THIS IS BASICALLY AN AU, WHEN REALLY LOOKING AT IT! SPOILERS FOR S3! READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION!

Billy’s grip was crushing as he held onto Y/N’s limp body who'd been sedated by Joyce and Hopper with a tranquillizer. It had been against every word of his, but he could only glare at them as he maneuvered her out of the house and towards the Camaro. Next to it stood a big van, it sides a rust-covered white and there were no license plates. “Place her in the trunk,” Hopper motioned with his head. Billy had to scoff, unconsciously hugging Y/N tighter. “I’m not placing her in the trunk, are you fucking insane?” “Just put her in the trunk, we don’t have time for this!” “She’s a human! She’s Y/N, not some roadkill!” Alex argued for his brother-in-law. “She’s that thing's slave right now!” Hopper raised his voice with each spoken word. “And we don’t want it to know where we’re going." A tense silence settled between the three men. In the back of Alex’s and Billy’s minds, they understood that Hopper cared for her, and he wanted the best, which would be not letting her sit in the car next to them and give away their position to the Mind Flayer, but they wouldn’t budge. “I’m not placing her in the trunk.” There was no room for a discussion. Billy had put his foot down. Hopper looked like he might burst, as he ran a hand through his thinning hair. Only then did everyone notice what he was wearing. Jim was adorned by what looked like a prison suit. It was dark grey, had tears and holes pretty much everywhere and didn’t smell too great. He’d gone through hell, and for a second, Billy’s heart twinged. But then he remembered him choking the life out of Y/N (even though he was doing it to save him and the rest), he still didn’t appreciate it. “Let’s put her in my car,” Nancy came as the savior, holding the brake cables in her hand. “I have an open trunk, so you can sit next to her and watch over.” “Fine,” Hopper replied earning a scowl from Billy. “But we need to put something over her head, so if she wakes up, the Mind Flayer doesn’t find out where we’re going.” Small grunts of agreement erupted around them, and even Billy couldn’t find anything to counter it, so with gritted teeth, he nodded, watching as Nancy opened the back of her car. Johnathan quickly rushed and slid underneath it to hook the cables back into place, and Joyce came out of the house with a large white piece of cloth and El’s black blindfold. “That is so not helping,” Alex mumbled, as Hopper put the pillowcase over Y/N’s head and tied the other piece of fabric around it as well. “Now it looks like we’ve kidnapped her.” Her blood-soaked shirt was not helping one bit. “Look, kid-“ “I’m eighteen.” “Look, kid,” Hopper gritted, losing his cool. “I know it’s your sister, and I know you care about her, we all do. But right now her comfort’s the least of our problems while the Mind Flayer is inside. Now, if you want, you can be my guest and announce to the Demogorgon and his little doggo army where we’re going, but if you want to keep your head on your shoulders, and save Y/N, this is what we have to do.” Alex and Billy had never wanted to punch someone more for being right.

“She’s gonna be okay. We’ve done this before,” Joyce gave the Californian a tight-lipped smile and patted his shoulder. “That does not make me feel any better,” Y/N’s brother mumbled but didn’t say anything else. He wanted to sit at the back with his sister, but when Billy laid her body down, it made him think she looked too much like a dead body, so he opted for driving with Joyce, Hopper, Robin, Lucas and Dustin in the van the ex-Chief had stolen when he had escaped. The rest consisting of Max, Billy, Johnathan, Mike, Will and El hopped into Nancy’s restored vehicle. “Hop, you said the Russians are back,” Joyce asked after he’d told them to drive to the local store. “What do they want… again? “I don’t know, world domination? It’s not like they talked about their big evil plan while torturing me.” She gulped, sharing a look with Lucas and Dustin, but didn’t say anything. “The Gate’s open,” Dustin announced. “Do you have any clue what they could want with the Upside Down? What did they want in the first place?” Hopper shook his head, turning down a hard left. “Whatever they think they can do with it, they’re wrong… it’ll kill them first and then us.” The next sentence threw everyone for a loop, as he stopped by where Joyce used to work at the convenience store. “We need a bunch of foil.” Mike’s eyebrows scrunched up as they all jumped out of their cars, El and Billy standing guard to keep an eye on Y/N and to deter anyone that might wanna know what’s up. “Why?” “Cause we wanna cook that bastard out of her.” Billy hadn’t smoked in years and now despised the smell and taste of the cancer sticks, but he hoped Y/N wouldn’t mind much if he did it just this once given as to what they were preparing to do. He looked through the back window and watched how Y/N’s chest rhythmically rose and fell. “It’s gonna be okay,” El’s voice made him turn around and look at the teenager. Billy’s mind played the memories of him trying to feed her to the monster four years ago in vivid detail. He remembered how gentle her touch on his cheek had been. How she had talked about the one time before Y/N that he’d been happy. She had helped him break out from the spell. “We’ll get her back. I promise.” Billy smiled. Somehow, he didn’t doubt her words. “Thanks.” El just shrugged. “She’s my friend too. I care about her. Besides,” she let out a small chuckle, “I miss Clara.” She’d met his gremlin only once, but the little blond-haired girl had taken a huge liking to El. Especially when she had made her dolls dance with her powers. Y/N and Billy had been very much so against her showing her telekinesis, but, later on, understood there’d be no harm in letting the two-year-old witness a little bit of magic. The sight as everyone exited the store with handfuls of tinfoil would’ve been almost comical, if not for the fact everyone knew what it was for. “Were to?” Before Joyce had left Hawkins with her sons and El, she had cleaned up Hopper’s old place a bit. Fixed the roof as best as she could and covered the furniture with some sheets, so that it didn’t seem like they’d left it without a care. It had been El’s home. Jim’s home. She couldn’t do that to them. Y/N didn’t stir once throughout the whole silent ride, and from time to time Billy had to doublecheck underneath the pillowcase if she was breathing. When her soft warm exhales greeted the back of his palm, he sighed in relief. The car stopped with a jolt, and everyone was up and running. Billy didn’t even heave a breath, so used to Y/N’s weight whether she wanted to have a piggyback ride or acted dramatically and made him carry her to their bed. Nancy, Johnathan and Will were carrying every heater they could find into the bedroom and given how the cabin was in the middle of the nowhere, and winters in Hawkins were not the kindest, there was quite a lot of them. “Is it gonna be enough?” Billy asked, placing Y/N down on what used to be El’s bed, and smoothed some hair out of his wife’s face. She looked so peaceful like that, he almost forgot what had transpired in the last twelve hours or so. “I don’t know, but it will have to be,” Hopper said and gave instructions to the rest of the Party as they laid out the foil along the walls and ground. “Cover the rest with sheets and everything you can find. Block out any markings she could see to identify where we’re at.” “We had less when Will…” Joyce started but didn’t finish the sentence, though everyone knew what she meant. “It worked then.” "It's just gonna have to work," Hopper said. They didn’t want to think about what they’d have to do if it didn’t. Billy and Steve were left to tie Y/N up on the bed, belts and ropes at their disposal. “When you think it’s tight enough, tighten it more,” Hopper stated and nailed a piece of sheet to the wall. “Yeah, I’d like for her to retain all her limbs, thank you very fucking much,” Billy snapped at the older man but did as he was told. The Mind Flayer was strong, and he remembered how much power he himself had. Granted, he’d been possessed for different reasons, but there was no doubt in his mind, once that thing figured out what they were doing, it would fight tooth and nail to remain in its current host. Hopper rolled his eyes and huffed, making sure that not even a sliver of light from the setting sun peaked through the fabric. “I think she’d much rather lose a hand than her life.” Together they brought every possible heater around the bed and plugged them in. It became almost unbearably hot in the span of a second, and Billy was happy for his open shirt and that he’d left his jacket in the car. Robin had helped Steve stoke a fire in the flimsy-looking fireplace and the flames that licked upwards added to the growing temperature. Y/N’s chest started heaving, and she stirred on the bed. A soft whimper escaped her mouth, and Billy saw how her clothes stuck to her chest. Her lashes fluttered open but quickly closed when a bright light above shone directly into her eyes. “Billy please, it hurts,” she begged tears slowly running down her cheeks. Or maybe it was sweat. Either way, he wasn’t happy seeing her face scrunched up in agony. “Billy,” she panted looking into his eyes. “Please.” He had to turn away from the sight before him. He couldn’t stand watching as she arched up from the bed, and the rope dragged across Y/N’s skin, burning a bright red line across her collarbones. The only marks he ever wished to see were from his fervent kisses, and this was so not it. “It’s not her talking,” Joyce reminded everyone, as she pushed one of the heaters closer. Their clothes were already clinging to their bodies, beads of sweat rolling down their skins, accompanied by the perspiration of stress. The foil had helped. A lot. It felt like they were stuck under the direct heat of the blazing sun, combined with an open fire. Which it kinda was. “Honey, please,” Y/N whined, trashing on the bed and lifting against the ropes. He saw her muscles flex and unflex and thought to himself it was a miracle they were holding her in place. "Bil-" she started, but he wasn't going to listen. Two hands slammed on each side of her head, and their eyes met. For a second, Billy was lost in her Y/E/C gaze, but then he looked at the black veins in her orbs. “Get out of my wife.” That was not the right thing to say, as it would seem he’d just pissed the Mind Flayer off. “You’re a shit husband, let alone a father!” Y/N sneered and then groaned as Max shoved a portable heater closer. “I’ve thought about leaving you so many times, it’s ridiculous.” Every word was laced with so much venom, it was like acid was being poured over his head. Alex grunted as Y/N tried to break free from the binds and had to hold her down. “Don’t listen to her!” “But every time I stayed,” she continued her verbal assault. “Out of pity. Because I knew no one else would. Not even your fucking mother wanted to stay around a piece of shit like you.” It took everything in Billy not to rip her out of that bed and slam her against the wall. He was just about to crack, when his eyes saw her veins turn completely black to the point the color could block out the moon in the sky at night. It wasn’t Y/N speaking, he reminded himself, it was the Mind Flayer. “You can’t take care of me or Clara; you don’t deserve us,” even in so much pain she was delivering a blow after blow to Billy’s heart. All of his self-control was now turned to not breaking apart as Y/N spewed his worst fears at him. No, not her! He reminded himself. It’s the Mind Flayer. “And I certainly won’t let you taint the three of us with y-“ She didn’t get to finish the sentence. Y/N’s back arched up from the bed, the belts digging into her skin leaving angry marks. Billy shut his eyes to block out what was happening. Instead, he thought of the times her back had lifted from the mattress while his head had been between her legs, or their hips had met one another’s in harsh thrusts. Not when a scream of pain tore through her throat as El used her powers to pull out the piece of Mind Flayer possessing her body, seeing as the heat alone wasn’t helping. Y/N was struggling back as if she didn’t want to let go of the demon in her body. For a moment El lost her balance. She had fought bigger things, worse things, but for some reason, this was the hardest battle yet. Maybe because she was trying to save her friend, yet, it seemed like she was doing more harm than good. Nancy had been hugging Johnathan from the moment Y/N had started screaming, but it wouldn’t stop. It just wouldn’t stop. His shirt was soaked not only from his sweat but her tears. She couldn’t lose another friend. “What are you doing?!” Billy yelled at her as she rushed to the open fire and pulled out a brightly glowing piece of metal. “I won’t let it win!” Nancy bellowed and thrust the burning hot poker in Y/N’s side. It was the last nail in the coffin. Black plumbing smoke propelled itself out of her from every possible place, making everyone who was near stagger back and away, as if being just in the proximity of it would infect them as well. But El didn’t let it escape. Her hand was outstretched, and a little stream of blood trickled down her nose, mouth and then chin. “Burn it,” she sneered as she held it in an invisible grip. Mike was right there with a can of old hairspray he’d found in El’s old room and a lighter Hopper had tossed him. Even in its separated form, the second bright red flames touched it, the Mind Flayer released a shriek, that made everyone else close their ears. Both Mike’s and El’s faces were scrunched up at the piercing sound, but they had to get the job done. And in two minutes there was nothing, but black flakes left that drifted to the floor like ash from the sky. The whole place turned completely silent; it was like the woods outside were holding their breath as well, not believing what had transpired in the old, half-broken cabin they were hiding from the rest of the town. “Benny’s,” a hoarse voice from behind them said. Billy whipped around and saw Y/N’s head lol to the side, eyes blinking and trying to adjust to her surroundings. “Dollface?” “Benny’s,” she mouthed again. “Are you-” he was beyond confused as he pushed the matted locks away from her sweaty skin but couldn’t help the astonished chuckle that escaped his mouth. “Are you hungry? Really?” “No, you idiot,” a horrendous cough rattled through her body as she tried to sit up but couldn’t because of her binds. “It’s where the Mind Flayer is. I don’t think it thought I’d make it, so it didn’t bother with hiding… there’s a whole tunnel system down there. I think they used it as storage and had products delivered that way… it’s a pretty cold place… and leads right to the lab…” A small voice from the very back of the room spoke up. “Y/N?” She smiled as Billy removed each rope and tie, and she opened up her arms as Alex barreled towards her and crushed her in a hug. “Hey shitbag, ya’ miss me?” Y/N whispered, her throat still very much so sore. “No,” he sniffled pushing his face in the crook of her neck. “Just didn’t want to be the one to tell mom you’ve been possessed.” “Sure,” she drawled out. “Just admit you fucking missed me.” “Why would I do that? I was so close to getting your car…” Y/N pulled back with her eyebrows scrunched up. “You do realize I’d rather have it chucked into the ocean than let you have it?” “What a great big sister you are,” Alex scoffed, but when he pulled away, there was an undeniable smile on his face. “Uh, I’m the best,” Y/N mimicked his tone, as she slowly sat up on the bed, Billy’s palm resting on the small of her back, as she did so. “I’m uh,” Hopper scratched at his neck making her look at him. Now when he was face to face with Y/N, instead of the Mind Flayer, the bruises on her neck were harder to swallow, especially since it was his handiwork. “I’m sorry about, you know… choking you and stuff…” “ ‘S okay,” she lifted her shoulders and dropped them as if it was an everyday thing she had to go through. “You had to do what you had to do… I’m glad you’re back, by the way. You know, just as a side note.” Hopper grunted and put his hand on El’s head, as the girl leaned into his side breathing heavily; a small smile played on her face as she looked at the other girl. “Yeah," Jim said. "I’m glad I’m back too.” Y/N looked around the room giving everyone shy grins and snorted when Steve and Robin waved at her, but when she saw Max pacing around the room, her lips turned down a bit. “You okay there, Maxine?” The redhead didn’t even react to being called by her first name, even though she despised it will all her being. “It’s just that… I don’t get it,” Max was biting her nails, and Lucas gently slapped her hand down. She’d already bitten them down to the skin during the whole ordeal, he didn’t want to see her rip them apart so hard they started to bleed. “Don’t get what?” Nancy asked, offering Y/N a towel to wipe the sweat and dirt and blood away from her face and arms. “Why would it want to kill you, apart from punishing Billy? Wouldn’t that, you know,” Max nodded vaguely, “kill the Mind Flayer? It made sense when he tried to kill Billy, seeing as he was the only one strong enough to go against it.” Everyone was looking at Y/N whose eyes had dropped to the floor. She couldn’t look at them. She knew why, it just wasn’t something she wanted to say out loud. “Because I wasn’t the main host…” Y/N finally sighed out after a moment. But when Billy asked who was, there was no way she’d meet the blue orbs that were like the ocean. She kept her gaze on where his wedding ring used to sit, only now realizing it was missing. “It’s your dad, Billy. Neil's the main host.”

Tags (crossed out wouldn’t take):

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A/N: my tags are always open :)

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nightwolfomega · 4 years

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Heart of a Lycan Chapter 2

Joyful reunion

Lycus was pissed, in fact he was more than pissed. He was downright furious. Getting a call from Peter at the Autumn Valley’s Forest Ranger Station that someone has moved into a cabin deep in the forest and to get them checked out to see if they were a hunter or not.

It wasn’t the issue that it was part of his job to check since he was a forest ranger and all, the real problem was that it may cause some complications for him and his family since they lived deep in the forest also.

He was already on a drive by patrol to check if there was any large roadkill that needed to be dealt with. but when he was radioed in, about someone recently moving in a cabin that sounded familiar to him Lycus stomped his foot on the gas taking very little time to get there. Driving down the stony driveway he saw the cabin was close and immediately had his hands gripped on the steering wheel tightly as his lips curled into a scowl growling lowly.

When he remembered where the address was it only fueled his anger more, who had the nerve to even dare move into that cabin that gave him his most cherished memories, he loved that place. It was when he would spend most of his time with...her.

His angry demeanor softens and now frowns sadly, a sigh escapes his lips. “Olydia…” he spoke out pulling the truck over and just crossing his arms onto the steering wheel with his shoulders slumped.

“I wish it was you that moved there.” whispering softly to himself pressing his head on his arms making his hat tip upward. It’s been six years since she moved away, six years he didn’t see her.

Back then he only had a house phone number and not much else for communication, he did manage to buy a laptop and phone but even with that she wasn’t on any social sites that he knew of.

But she was still on his mind, always had been and always will be.

Olydia did more than become his friend during that rough time in his life, she taught him how to become human again. Hell, she even welcomed Lycus into her home to hang out and befriend her whole family.

It gave him comfort trusting someone when he didn’t know how to at that time. understanding him when no one else did or even tried to.

He cringed at how cliche that was but it was true, even the therapist he had during that time wasn’t much help since he couldn’t be fully honest about the entire time he was with the wolves at that young age.

His mind drifting to a memory of when they would sit together on the cabin porch just looking at the stars and crescent moon together, wrapped up close together in a blanket and just having her snuggle up close to him.

Then remembering the first time he met her, offering her time to read him the stories she had written. Getting that warm welcoming hug, it was at that moment he knew deep down in his very heart and soul.

Lycus knew that Olydia was his mate.

He never told her that of course, how much he loved and wanted her to be his and only his. Lycus was too afraid that it would ruin what they had at the time and make him look creepier than he already did.

Snapping out of his blissful trip down memory lane, He takes his cap off to fix his long and wild pony tail after doing so he pulls the truck back into drive and continues his way up to the cabin.

When he finally gets there he notices the silver car parked close by. Lycus hummed to himself this was definitely not a type of vehicle to use for hunting but he had to make sure. Stepping out of the truck he takes a view of the cabin, the smooth oak and trimmings still had it’s earthy charm even after all these years.

His mind was almost overtaken by the memories that were flooding in.

Shaking his head vigorously. Lycus had a job to do and walked up the spacious porches steps to the front door and gave it three firm knocks and waited patiently for this person to come at the door.

Lycus took a deep breath and sighed something caught his nose of the familiar scent of autumn scented candles, his ears catching the sound of footsteps coming to the door. At that moment he thought to himself “Please god, please let it be her that opens that door…” he prayed. Even though it was very likely it wouldn’t be her, didn’t hurt to wish for it right?

With a swift click of the lock and a twist of the doorknob it opens, When his eyes locked onto the woman's his heart skips a beat.

It was her. The woman that made him feel happiness and joy every time they were together, The same woman that gave him love and comfort despite how he was. The coffee brown short hair and long bang that covered some of her left face, those beautiful grayish blue eyes and lovingly kind smile.

It was Olydia, his love, his mate, his everything.

She looked at him for a long moment “Lycus?” she blurts out in disbelief, Was this really him? The once lean shy boy that was now a hulkish large man? Lycus’s breathing stifled “Olydia.” he replies as a cooked grin forms on his lips.

In a matter of seconds Olydias eyes widen as her entire expression shifted from curiosity to pure jubilation “Lycus!” she shouts practically tackling him as her arms wrap around his torso in a tight hug that even caused him to stumble back for a second.

Lycus was in shock looking down at her, it almost felt like he was dreaming, seeing and holding her again after being apart for so long. Raising up his arms he hugs her close to his chest “I can’t believe it! You’re back, you're really back!” he spoke out cheerfully. Doing everything in his power not to become a ball of wild hyper energy to lift her up in his arms and spin around.

They stayed like that for what felt like an eternity until she slowly pulled back “This is absolutely crazy I was just thinking about you just an hour ago.” she spoke, Lycus felt his face flush clearing his throat “R-Really? Heh to be honest I was thinking about you too on the drive up here.” he replies rubbing the back of his head.

She took a moment to study the clothes he was wearing, it was a ranger's uniform “Oh my good gracious are you a forest ranger now?” she asks happily looking up at him. Lycus looks away bashfully “Yeah, The job fits me really well.” he replies shyly adjusting his cap.

Olydia jumps up and down clapping her hands “I’m so proud of you Lycus!” giving him another quick hug. “Please come in, we have to talk now. I need you to tell me everything!” reaching out to grab Lycus hand and pull him inside the cabin, his feet aimlessly follow suite after her.

“Sorry about the boxes and stuff i’m still in the process of unpacking.” walking him over to the couch with him. “It’s alright don’t worry about it.” he replies, taking a seat. “Would you like anything to drink? I only have water and some juices since you know I don’t drink soda.” she laughs.

“No thanks I’m good, besides I already know where the cups are anyway.” giving her a coy smirk. “Well I just wanted to make sure I was being a proper hostess.” getting a quick sip of water from a plastic cup she already had poured. Olydia rushes back to the couch and sits next to him.

“Okay, Tell me everything. I wanna know how you became a ranger and how you look so darn fantastic!” Olydia spoke trying to contain her excitement with her hands curled up to her chin.

Lycus tries gathering his thoughts where would he even start? He pondered to himself rubbing his full but well trimmed beard “Well it happened a few months after we graduated from high school there was a job application for a forest ranger and luckily I snagged it up asap. Did a couple of training courses and bam, here I am.” he chuckles giving her the short and sweet of it.

She nods giving her his utmost attention “That’s just awesome I’m so happy for you Lycus you did good.” she spoke grinning, Lycus felt a little blush on his cheeks hearing that, it made him feel proud.

“So why’d you come here? Did you think I was someone that was gonna cause trouble?” she spoke in a cocky tone, Lycus snickers “Well to be completely honest yes, I wasn’t sure if there was some mysterious stranger staying in your cabin.” moving his fingers eerily. Olydia shook her head, chuckling as she rose her hand to her mouth.

“Alright you asked me about some of my life stories so what about you? How was college and when did you come back here? I’m still surprised to see you here in front of me.” gesturing his arms to her.

“Well I had a nice learning experience with the amazing classes I took.” She spoke leaning back on the couch “ My favorite professor was Mr. Mosire. He was a cool and creative dude and always had a good story about his life with art, one time he told us when he sketched portraits of the nurses when he was recovering at a hospital during the Vietnam war. It was so cool, I think you would have liked him” She spoke looking over at Lycus.

“The college however couldn’t give me the right number of classes nor the promised time they say I could graduate. So I had to leave and guess what happened after that? The dang place close down.” busting out laughing “How ironic is that? But I still had an astounding time and made a few good friends in the process.”

“Wait what? So what did you even do after that?” he asks concerned, She looks at him with an arched brow “Tried looking for a job, managed to get some of my work published and some commission work to get me enough money to get supplies for here.”

“And to be honest, I missed this place. Just watching the leaves change so early and enjoying the gentle cool breeze. The festivals they would hold and how much fun it was when it would be October. It’s just nice coming back to see familiar faces” Olydia spoke smiling up at him.

He nods “The town is nice like that.” turning his view to the fireplace he notices the picture frame. “Is that?” he spoke, getting up from the couch and walked over to get a better look “Oh jeez it is.” carefully grabbing the photo. “We were so young...” his expression became sour “I looked like such a emo dork.” he laughs.

“You did not, ya big silly head.” Olydia retorts getting up also from the couch, striding over to look at the photo too. “I always had a wonderful time reading with you, it would make my day better regardless of how good or bad it was.” Lycus spoke shifting his eyes over to her.

Olydia smirked, leaning her head onto his arm “Me too, I wouldn’t trade those times we had for the world.” Lycus felt his heart flutter hearing that, nibbling on his lip to keep himself from saying something he’ll regret.

Taking a look out the window “It’s starting to get late now,” he spoke as it was getting dark outside “Wait are you still on the clock?” she asks worriedly. Lycus chuckles “Yes, but this was well worth the time.” he replies. “I’ll report back that there’s nothing to worry about.” giving her a light touch on her nose.

She chortles, “Well I would certainly hope not at least.” crossing her arms. Lycus' face softens becoming serious “But really Olydia, I’m really happy to see you back.” he spoke in a caring tone.

Olydia couldn't help beam feeling warmth in her heart when he said that, “I’m happy to be back too.”

when Lycus turns about to leave she manages to jump in front of him before getting a chance to open the door.

“Are you busy tomorrow?” she asks him curiously.

He places his hands on his hips “I get off at ten in the morning since I usually do night shift. Why do you ask?” he already knew the answer to that but he wanted to hear it from her.

“Would you like to have lunch with me tomorrow and have a little walk in the town since I’ve been gone for such a long while?” She asks, giving him the puppy eyes.

Lycus grins with a soft sigh feeling his heart melting as those beautiful eyes used his signature move that he would pull on her. “I would like that very much.”

Olydia jumps up and down clapping her hands “Huzzah! This is going to be astonishing. It'll be just like old times.”

When he heard that his eyes stung a little with tears slowly building, he blinked it away to keep himself from looking like he was about to cry. But it wasn’t from sadness, it was overwhelming joy.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then at the Moonrise cafe then.” he spoke as Olydia opens the door for him “I look forward to that.” She replies as he exits the cabin.

She gives him a little wave “Drive safely, have a good night.” Olydia calls out, Lycus turns waving back “You too.” and with that she closes the door.

Lycus walks steadily back to his truck and enters inside, in a matter of seconds he lets out a loud howl shouting happily making a fist pump that his mate had finally returned.

Turning on the headlights he drives home at the appropriate speed limit grinning ear to ear that Olydia was back and he was going to spend the day with her tomorrow, this was something he had to tell his family when he got back home.

#Heart of a Lycan #story #werewolf #lycan #monster #writing #Olydia #Lycus #romance #Chapter 2 #original characters

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ginnyzero · 4 years

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Week 1 Booktober 2020 Intro

For new people here, I’m Ginny O. and I write books about werewolves (mostly.) I love werewolves! And my favorite thing about my Heaven’s Heathens novels is they are expansive enough I can do anything I really want with them from cozy family drama, to action scenes, to some good old fashioned makes you uneasy creepy horror.

I’m a country girl so my type of horror is ‘there is something in the woods or the cornfields and it’s watching you,’ and you don’t know what it is. It could be a deer. It could be a bear. It could be a wolf. Or a cougar. Or it could be a yeti! Or you know, a crazy man. (Very, very possible.) And “is that roadkill or is that a body?” And my second favorite type of horror is body horror since werewolves and shifting. (I like shifters.) There is something very creepy and uncomfortable about changing from a human to an animal or to a mixture of the two. And also mildly fascinating. I also like ghosts. But writing ghosts and making them work can be difficult.

What really got me into horror and the supernatural was actually the Bible. I grew up in a moderate Christian home and my mother went through this “Halloween is evil” thing after I hit about second grade I think? No more trick or treating. However, the bible has stories like flesh growing back on bones, mentions of Nephilim half-angel giants, and Christ casting demons out of people and into pigs. (I guess him raising from the dead could be creepy too. I mean, we don’t think about it that way, but it is. Crucifixion is horrifying from any angle.)

My mother, who was also my Sunday School teacher, taught me these stories at a young age, so I was really fascinated with demons and angels. She says one thing I’d do as a child is say “Satan, get thee behind me,” a lot. I don’t remember this, at all. One of the things Christian fiction will do is demons and angels! So, I would read those when I was a young teen instead of Goosebumps. Because I was allowed! Stephen R. Lawhead could be pretty creepy to young Christian teen me.

Once I started getting more secular books from the library, then I really started getting more into vampires and werewolves and stuff like that. It was more of an access thing really. It was much easier to get books out of the church library than the “local” small town library. (Not local at all, over the hill and through the woods literally to grandmother’s house we go.)

I honestly, don’t think this is what my mother wanted at all, but that’s how I got interested in the supernatural. Totally the opposite thing of what she intended I’m sure.

My current books are about werewolves, which are somewhat paranormal. And I do have ideas for a couple other books that involve more creatures, and ghosts, and witches, and creepy golems and things. I love science fiction. I love fantasy. Creepy body horror, ghosts, ‘there is a monster in those woods’ is about as close to horror as I get. But it does show up. And like, I don’t try. I like cozy things. But here, have a dash of “the chills.”

I do believe in ghosts. It’s hard not to believe in demons and angels and not also believe in ghosts. I think there are different levels of ghosts. Most are excess energy and not harmful. Others are definitely out there to hurt you. They can be attracted to negative personal energy. And if they are bound in place, will drain you. Personally, I’m careful. I don’t seek them out. I have been places where I’ve felt uneasy and found out later they were supposedly haunted. I am a low risk type of person. No thank you.

I grew up on bluegrass music, so my favorite ghost story is the one immortalized in the song Bringing Mary Home by the Country Gentleman. The song goes, a driver sees a young girl by the side of the road, so he stops, she gets in telling him her name and where she lives. He drives her home and when he gets there, she’s gone. A woman comes to the door, he tells what happens and it turns out Mary had been killed 13 years ago and he’s the 13th one to bring her home.

It’s sung in A Minor and it’s just very haunting.

Mary is what ghost hunters like to call a “rider.” A rider is someone usually killed in an accident and their spirit is bound to a stretch a road. So when someone comes along they ‘hitch’ a ride with them. Sometimes by actually having the person stop and take them to a place. Or there are riders that grab onto you. They either just appear in the car or grab you around the middle if you’re on a motorcycle or horse.

Mary is generic enough to be about any one of these. I did some research into the song at one time and found a couple stories that might fit. They’re in a bigger city. One, Mary was a young woman who went out dancing with her boyfriend in the 1920s. On the way home, she got in a car accident and now asks for rides from the scene.

The other story takes place near a graveyard. “Mary” is buried in the cemetery and it’s a well known spot that people have picked her up by the side of the road. However, bad luck tends to follow those who pick up Mary. Car accidents and the like. Word got around. A priest found out about her, and he decided to go consecrate the gates of the cemetery.

Well, that night after he did the blessing to keep Mary in, someone drove past the cemetery and saw a little girl with blazing eyes clutching to the gate. When they went back the next morning, pressed into the metal of the gate were small hand prints from Mary.

Mary obviously wasn’t pleased.

The consecration wore off and I think the gates were eventually replaced. People still see Mary and hurry on.

Moral of the story: Beware hitch hikers. They may be ghosts.

Once again, anyone is welcome to join me in Booktober. Do you like horror or the paranormal? What got you into it? Are you a believer in the supernatural? What’s your favorite ghost story? If you’re an author, do you write it?

Next week, I’m going to talk about some of my favorite horror and paranormal books and things in book format! You can join in too! (Here is an image, totally optional if you want to use it.)

#writing tumblr #writrblr #booktober #ghosts #horror #paranormal #about me #my books #werewolves #ghost story

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rulesofthebeneath · 5 years

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masters of our fates, chapter 1

@ajaysbhandari @pixelburied @itsbrindleybinch @awkwardalbatros @ravenclawpokegirl25 @lilmissperfectlyimperfect @witchiegirl @ajayforlife @furiouscloddonutpeanut

Grace glared into the mirror, trying to make the edge of the wig meet her natural hairline seamlessly. It was a futile effort-- it was always a futile effort-- but for some reason, this bothered her more today than it usually did.

Support group. The idea scared her, frankly. How was she supposed to go up in front of a whole bunch of people and tell them her life story? She could scarcely remember the last time she’d been onstage. Pre-diagnosis, for sure. Back in middle school, when she was just a bright-eyed thirteen-year-old trying her best to fit in.

Now sixteen, she looked into the mirror and shook her head. Three years seemed more like a lifetime ago, when she thought about how much had changed. How much she had changed.

She finally decided to just take the wig off and ran a comb through the layers of her hair cut into a long pixie. She didn’t like it, but it would have to do today. There was no use putting on airs for other teenagers that also had cancer. They’d see right through her ill-fitting wig that could only trick the most gullible. And anyways, her nasal cannula and the cart that she always dragged around with her that held her oxygen canister was a dead giveaway that something was very, very wrong with her.

Sixteen and dying, she thought to herself, seeing her humorless smirk reflected back at her. There had been a time when she was still soft inside. Grace liked that part of herself, but it hadn’t been strong enough to last through the chemotherapy, the surgeries, the doctor’s appointments where she was told she didn’t have long.

And yet, Grace thought, life keeps dragging me along. Like roadkill that got stuck to the bottom of a car tire.

She knew she wasn’t supposed to think like that. That was why her therapist told her mom about the support group that met in the auditorium of some old high school in town. It was the same one she would’ve ended up going to, if it weren’t for… everything else.

Her parents had taken her out of school upon her diagnosis of thyroid cancer, when she was 13. What had followed had been the worst years of her young life, poked and prodded and cut open and flushed with chemicals within an inch of death. That’s what they’d told her, at least.

Her cancer had proven untreatable. Even though she underwent surgery to remove her entire thyroid, the cancer had already spread into her lungs and was slowly drowning her. Chemotherapy didn’t touch the tumors, and the aggressive rounds of every kind of drug that the doctors thought might help caused all her hair to fall out and all the fat on her body to disappear, leaving her skeletal. But even as the tumors grew and grew, even as her skin broke out in rashes and her ribs showed through her skin, even as she spent long nights drowning on fluid-filled lungs, her heart kept beating.

Grace didn’t know why. And sometimes she wished it hadn’t. But it did, and a couple medical trials and a few experimental drugs later, the tumors had stopped growing. And Grace resurfaced, hacking the fluid up and out of her lungs, agonizingly and beautifully alive. Her doctors had called it a miracle, and her parents called it a blessing. Only Grace saw it as it truly was, though.

She saw the collateral damage that her family had faced. She knew her brushes with death had traumatized her twin brother, who was maybe the only person in the world who knew her better than she knew herself. And her parents had given up so much-- their diner, which had been their dream ever since they were newlywed twenty-somethings, had had to go so they could pay for Grace’s treatment. Now her father worked grueling hours as a line cook and her mother worked at a bookshop part time, but cared for Grace full time.

In truth, Grace knew that she had only destroyed their lives. That although nobody would say it, it would’ve been easier had she succumbed to the water in her lungs.

But maybe not. If there was anything worse than dying of cancer, it was having a kid who died of cancer. Or a twin. No, Grace wouldn’t wish that on them. Even though she wished they cared less, she knew she meant the world to her family. And they meant the world to her, too.

But sometimes, it was so hard to breathe.

She made the mistake of mentioning that statement to her therapist, which was what had brought her here. In the living room of her house, with her twin brother fishing their car keys out of a dish on the counter, getting ready to drive her to the school.

As they left the house and started into the warm Saturday morning, Grace squinted to shield her eyes from the brightness of the June sun.

“You clearly aren’t getting out enough,” James said pointedly, though he grinned as he pressed the button on the key fob to unlock the door. “I don’t think I’ve seen you leave your bed at all this week.”

“Sleep fights cancer,” Grace mumbled as she climbed into the car, pulling her oxygen cart in after. She closed the door, making sure it didn’t shut on the line.

“Yeah, but I hear fresh air does too,” James replied. When Grace didn’t answer, he turned on the radio to a pop station. He reversed the car out of the driveway and onto the street they lived on, and they rode in silence.

Not five minutes later, though, James slammed the button that silenced the radio. Grace looked over at him, startled.

“You never smile anymore,” he said.

“I’m dying,” Grace retorted. She made to turn back around to the window, but her line got tangled around a button of her sweater and forced her to spend a few moments with shaky fingers untangling it.

“You’re not, though,” James said, taking advantage of her line malfunction to hold her captive in a conversation. “I mean, your body’s not perfect and your health still sucks, but you’re not gonna die anytime soon.”

“Thanks to a drug that’s expensive as hell,” Grace said, again trying to cut herself out of the conversation. James wouldn’t let it happen though.

“That’s not the point, and you know it,” he said, and even though his eyes were turned towards the road, Grace could feel them flashing with anger. “You were given a chance to live, and instead you just lay around sleeping and watching TV. I know you want to go out and do things, but you won’t let yourself. Why?”

Grace fumed. She was furious at her brother, because his words touched every frayed nerve in her brain.

“I wish I had a dog instead of a twin,” she said finally. “At least a dog wouldn’t judge me.”

“You’d have to clean up its poop,” James said matter-of-factly.

“A small price to pay for getting to keep my secrets.”

James rolled his eyes, though both had calmed down enough for twin smiles to show on their faces.

“Make me a deal, and I’ll leave you alone about it,” James offered.

Grace raised an eyebrow. “What’s the catch?”

“Try to socialize at the support group,” he said. “It’s people like you. They won’t judge you. And besides, you already know Mrs. Silva.”

That was true. Their neighbor, Mrs. Silva, had gone through breast cancer a while back, and had relapsed when Grace was 14. Grace had heard that the high school where her kid, Rory, went had used the school play to raise money for her treatment. She was in remission now.

“Plus, maybe Rory will be there.”

Rory had been Grace’s and James’ childhood best friend, but Grace had lost touch with Rory post-diagnosis. She’d lost touch with pretty much everyone. James and Rory ran in different circles at school, but they spoke occasionally. Grace remembered how they’d run against each other for student body president, with Rory eventually winning when James threw his support behind them. In return, James was their vice president. It had all worked out for the best, but Grace was pretty sure the months leading up to it had been awful for James. She hadn’t been home enough to really pay attention to him, but she could tell he was stressed during his daily visits to her hospital room. She still held a lot of guilt in her heart for not being there for him during his time of need.

“If it means I get to binge-watch America’s Most Eligible once I get home, then fine. Deal. I’ll say a few words to Rory, and their mom.”

“Thank youuuuu,” James said in a sing-song voice, laughing. His laugh was infectious, one of the things Grace both loved and hated about him. She couldn’t resist, and giggled a little too. James noticed, and gasped dramatically.

“There’s your smile! I thought it had gone missing.”

Grace whacked him, but his athlete’s physique hardly noticed her weak attempt. Before James’ grin faded entirely, Grace saw that he had pulled up to the school and she got out as quickly as she could, careful not to tangle herself in her line again.

“Thanks for the ride, James,” she said.

“No problem. I’ll pick you up in an hour?”

Grace pressed her lips together and looked towards the sign that marked the building as Berry High School. Suddenly, she wanted to know what else she’d missed out on, besides the play and the election.

“No, I think I’ll get a ride home with Rory and Mrs. Silva, maybe get dinner with them. It’s been way too long since I’ve spent time with them.”

James grinned, and Grace swore that it lit up the entire day. Regardless of what he said to her, it had been way too long since he’d truly smiled either.

“Damn right it has. I’ll tell mom, and we’ll see you at home later.”

“See you.”

With that, Grace turned and walked through the doors of Berry High School. As soon as she crossed into the front lobby, she spotted the door to the auditorium, conveniently propped open for wheelchair users. She slipped inside as quietly as she could with the oxygen canister rattling around in the cart.

The theatre was decked out in red, the ruby-colored curtains that framed the stage complemented by the deep red seats. Grace ran her hand along the stained velour, wondering how old it was. Then, an enthusiastic voice pulled her out of her reverie.

“Is that Grace?!” the voice said, and then Rory Silva themselves stood up from one of the folding chairs placed in a circle on the stage. They ran down the stairs and threw themselves at Grace, nearly knocking her over with a massive bear hug. Grace was barely able to steady herself by gripping the edge of a seat tightly.

Rory soon noticed that Grace wasn’t hugging back, presumably because she held onto the theatre seat with a death grip and her oxygen cart with the other. They released her quickly, stepping back in horror.

“Oh god, Grace, I’m so sorry. Did I hurt you?”

Grace forced a smile onto her face. She loved Rory like a sibling, but hadn’t expected to be so aggressively greeted within seconds of stepping into the auditorium. The interaction had winded her.

“No, don’t worry,” she managed. Rory nodded, but still looked wary.

“We’re all up here,” they said, gesturing towards the circle of chairs onstage. About half of them were filled, and Grace didn’t recognize any of the faces. One of them was staring at her, a healthy-looking boy wearing a blazer, jeans, and thick glasses. He had one eyebrow raised, and the whole look came off rather condescendingly to Grace.

Great, she thought. Some asshole already doesn’t like me.

She broke eye contact with the boy and turned back to Rory.

“Come on up to the stage. We have a ramp set up and everything.”

Grace snorted, noting the presence of a girl in a wheelchair on the stage. “I sure hope you do.”

Rory laughed, and the two headed up towards the stage. Once Grace rolled her hand-cart up the ramp, which took more effort than she’d hoped, she was greeted by Mrs. Silva, a slight woman not much taller than Grace who was short herself, wrapping her into a tight hug.

“It’s great to see you, my dear. We’ve missed you around the house, like when you and Rory were kids.”

“Well, we’re not exactly kids anymore,” Grace said, and then instantly regretted it as Mrs. Silva’s face fell slightly. God, Grace reprimanded herself silently. Why can’t you just fake your way through a conversation?

To Mrs. Silva’s credit, she recovered quickly. She put on a warm smile. “As a mother, I’ll always see Rory’s friends as the little kids who used to dig up my flowers.”

Grace smiled despite herself, then Mrs. Silva released her. Grace knew she needed to find somewhere to sit down soon, she could already feel herself getting weak. She sat down in the first chair she could find, directly across from Rory… and the boy who had been staring at her, who was now just eyeing her occasionally. It unsettled her, and she wrapped her sweater tighter around herself. She decided to stare back at him, to try and assert dominance, and he raised both of his eyebrows like he was amused. She didn’t dare break his gaze for fear of losing.

A few minutes and a couple people later, Mrs. Silva finally sat in the chair that she had been standing by. Grace tore her gaze away from the boy to face her, but she could still feel his eyes on her.

“Hi, everyone.” she started. “Thanks for coming today. My name is Brenda Silva, but you all can just call me Brenda.”

Like hell I will, Grace thought to herself. I’ve never called you anything other than Mrs. Silva, and I’m not going to stop now.

“I want to go around the circle and have everyone introduce themselves to start. Name, age, and diagnosis if you feel comfortable sharing that. I’ll start: as I said my name is Brenda, I’m forty six years old, and I have breast cancer, but I’ve been in remission for two years.”

She gestured to Rory to continue.

“Oh, um, hi, I’m Rory,” they said, smiling in their characteristic goofy way. “I’m seventeen, and, uh, I don’t have cancer but I’m here to support my mom.” They gestured to Mrs. Silva as deferentially as if she were royalty, making some in the circle let out a small laugh.

The next person to go was a small, bored-looking but rather pretty redhead. “My name’s Skye, I’m sixteen, and I had leukemia as a kid but I’ve been in remission for four years now,” she said, smiling slightly at the last few words. Grace was happy for her too- four years was almost a guarantee of total remission- but a pang of jealousy swiped through her as well. She tried to suppress it.

“Congratulations, Skye,” Mrs. Silva said warmly. “Here’s hoping for five.”

Skye’s eyes widened, but she accepted the comment and ducked her head. Once the attention was off her and onto the next person, she slouched down in her chair. It was clear that she didn’t want to be noticed or singled out. Grace tended to agree with her. There was a time where Grace lived for the spotlight, but that time had passed.

She started thinking about texting James to make him come pick her up after all, but before she could surreptitiously dig her phone out of her back pocket, it was her turn to introduce herself.

“Hi, I’m Grace,” she started softly. “I’m sixteen too. My original diagnosis was thyroid, but it spread to my lungs.”

The others in the circle nodded, and the attention passed mercifully to the next person. Without meaning to, Grace found her eyes on the boy with the glasses again. He was looking at her with interest, almost as if he was trying to analyze her.

She wasn’t sure how long she’d been staring when he looked away towards Mrs. Silva. Grace looked down at her lap.

Get a grip, she told herself.

“I’m Ajay,” he said, introducing himself with a rather authoritative voice. “I’m seventeen, and I had osteosarcoma.”

“Had?” Grace asked before she could stop herself. Everyone turned towards her, and she turned red. Ajay’s eyes fixed on hers.

“Yes, had. I went into remission last summer after my lower leg was amputated.” He pulled up the hem of his jeans to show a clearly artificial ankle joint. Grace bit her lip and looked away, embarrassed.

From what she knew about it, osteosarcoma was rarely terminal, but it usually took an amputation to check you out of the hospital. She felt bad for having judged him just because he looked healthy, and she knew exactly how frail she must look with her cannula and her face puffy from the miracle drug. In contrast, he stood tall and bore no signs of the illness that had taken his leg, save for the prosthetic. His hair looked smooth, not a single hair out of place unlike her messy hairdo, and she found herself starting to wish that she had at least tried to put the wig on.

Stop thinking about him, she told herself, and she turned to watch Mrs. Silva as she started a conversation about something or other. Grace effectively zoned out, an action she’d mastered during the long lonely hours of recovery in the hospital or through the chemotherapy treatments. It was second nature by now.

By the time Ajay spoke up again, Grace didn’t know how much time had passed, but his voice startled her into consciousness.

“I just don’t see the point of optimism,” he was saying, “if we’re all going to die anyway.”

“Ajay,” Mrs. Silva said quietly, in a warning tone.

Grace’s blood started to boil, and she knew she was overreacting, but she couldn’t stop it. He wasn’t going to die. His cancer was in remission, he’d been given that chance at life that Grace hadn’t been. Who was he to think he could own cynicism?

“That’s easy for you to say,” Grace retorted, and she watched as his gaze met hers, his eyebrows lifted up again in that amused way, which just made Grace more mad.

“What’s easy for me to say?” he asked, a slight smirk at the edge of his lips. Grace narrowed her eyes.

“That we’re all going to die anyway. I’m dying every day, and you got another chance at life.” As she said the words, she became aware that she was unintentionally repeating her brother’s point from earlier, in the car.

He cocked his head to the side, looking like he wanted to say something, but he didn’t. He simply watched Grace, like she was an interesting TV show. She bit off her next words with all the malice she possessed.

“Don’t tell me what it’s like to die, since you get to live.”

“Grace--” Mrs. Silva tried to cut her off, but she was already done. She stared back down at her lap, twisting her hands together, avoiding Mrs. Silva’s eyes. There was no way she could ride home with them now. Not now that she’d said something really impulsive in front of Mrs. Silva’s whole support group. She was already regretting her words.

Mrs. Silva changed the topic and started to wrap up the meeting, and through it all, though Grace looked down, she could still sense Ajay’s eyes on her. As soon as the group finished the meeting, Grace was out of her seat like a shot, pulling her canister after her as fast as she could go until she was finally out of the building.

Up against the wall, she panted until she regained her breath. As Rory and Mrs. Silva walked over to where their car was parked, and the others either drove or caught rides themselves, Grace remembered that she had no ride. She cursed audibly, and at that exact moment Ajay appeared just outside the doors of Berry High, a cane held in his left hand. An amused smile played on his lips.

“Need a ride?” he offered, clearly enjoying the way her eyes flashed at his words.

“I’m fine,” she said curtly, pulling her phone out of her pocket to text James. Before she could unlock the phone, though, he spoke again.

“You were right, you know. I shouldn’t be telling you how to live.”

Grace looked up.

“I shouldn’t be telling you how to live, either,” she argued back. “I barely know you.”

“Do you think we can fix that?” he asked, an eyebrow raised in what now seemed to be a curious gaze, rather than a condescending one.

Grace met his eyes for a few moments, then nodded slowly.

“I do need a ride,” she said. “I was supposed to ride home with Rory and get dinner at their house, but, well…” She gestured to the Silva’s car, already pulling out onto the main road.

“Oh, okay,” Ajay said, clearly not having expected that. “How long have you known Rory?”

“I’ve lived next door to them my whole life,” Grace said, biting her lip.

“Really? I’ve never heard them talk about you.”

Ouch, Grace thought. That was a hard blow, to know her childhood best friend never thought about her anymore, but she supposed it was fair. This meeting had been the first time she’d seen them in a few months, and that visit was hardly more than a half hour long.

“Oh,” she said, and Ajay turned to her as he seemed to realize he’d said something wrong. He opened his mouth, presumably to apologize, but Grace shook her head and he backed down.

“I am pretty hungry,” Grace said, staring off into the distance towards the Golden Griddle. Even when she was feeling her best, she could still be swept away by the waves of guilt over that. They had given up their dream, their pride and joy, just for her.

She would never be able to forgive herself for that.

“Let’s go get lunch, then. On me.”

Startled out of her self-imposed guilt trip, Grace simply stared at Ajay.

“I barely know you,” she managed, repeating herself from earlier.

“I thought we were fixing that?” he asked, both eyebrows raised.

He thinks I’m quirky, Grace realized. That was fair enough.

“Sure, alright.”

Ajay shook his head.

“You’re a very… interesting person, Grace.”

Grace didn’t have a response to that, so when Ajay turned to walk towards his car, she followed him silently.

His car was the fanciest car she’d ever seen, and she couldn’t even figure out how much it must’ve cost. It was a sports car, but he clearly wasn’t really thrilled with it. In fact, once they got into the car, he turned to her before starting the engine.

“I’m not an asshole,” he said, causing her to laugh. “I know how it looks. But there’s a reason why I have this car. And it’s not because I’m a rich snobby asshole.”

“Oh? And what’s the reason?” Grace said through a big smile.

Ajay started the engine, which practically purred to life, and he wrinkled his nose at the sound.

“I can’t share all of my secrets,” he said simply, and backed out of the parking space.

Grace wanted to know more, but she dropped the subject. She actually kind of liked the mystery. One day, she’d be able to get that story out of him.

Wait, she thought. One day? You can’t think like that. Who knows what one day will be?

She shook her head, trying her best to enjoy the moment. The reminder of her circumstances creeped in around the edges, making everything foggy.

“Where to?” Ajay asked, and the fog thinned.

#im going to regret this #no introduction we die like men #i cannot for the life of me remember who's on my tag list anymore #im just tagging people who might read this #like: here:#*offers steaming pile of garbage*#if you don't like it blame taylor she told me to post it #if you've read this far congratulations: it's kind of a tfios au #but don't assume things about the plot #i still have a few tricks up my sleeve #reblog if you get the shakespeare reference in the title #Ajay Bhandari #ajay x mc #hssca #high school story fanfic #High School Story #high school story class act #choices #playchoices #choices fanfic #choices fanfiction #gloria writes #(writes steaming piles of garbage)#chapter 2 to follow cuz i already wrote that but when will chapter 3 be out?#nobody knows #not even me #not even my... finals goddamn test schedule knows #*sigh*#alright kids bye now #my fanfic

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softbiker · 5 years

Text

A Familiar Place - Part 2

Warnings: a bad word or two, literally zero editing

Word count: 2.1k

A/N: Not sure if I’m satisfied with this, but posting to celebrate hitting 200 followers!! Thanks for being here, I love you all! As always, let me know what you think :)

This is not an “x Reader” or romance story.

“Okay, I’m 100% sure it’s not supposed to look like that.”

“Shut up, bird brain.”

“Will you two stop it I can’t hear the instructor.”

Three soldiers exchange glares behind their easels, brushes poised over canvas. Their stools are set in the back of the class, clustered close together so they can peek over each others shoulders. Other easels are arranged in semi-circle rows towards the front of the classroom, with the instructor at the epicenter, walking back and forth and making comments to the students. To her credit, she tries to ignore the fussing commentary from the back of the room, only sparing them a glance every once in a while.

An oil painting class. Painting was never Steve’s strong suit - he prefers pencils and charcoal, quick messy sketches under his flurried fingers, captured on the spur of the moment. Bucky faintly remembers a smaller, softer Steve, the graphite on his hands, the smudges that covered his nose. Pencil fixed behind his ear, where Bucky would have placed a cigarette. But when they came here, settled into their place in Bed-Stuy, Steve decided to try out something new. And today he invited Sam and Bucky to join him.

Steve takes easily to new mediums, whatever his protests about not being a “natural” painter. Sam has no idea what he’s doing, but Bucky knows that has never stopped him from having a good time.

Bucky, though.

Bucky feels nervous each time he dips his brush, blends his paints. He feels somehow wasteful, putting his own brush to the canvas. Hand him a knife, a gun, hell - even one of Stark’s high-tech weapons, and he’s steady. A deadshot. But a paintbrush? He doubts every stroke and line. Without a talent like Steve’s, he thinks, this canvas would be better off with someone else.

But Steve is having a good time and he hates to ruin that, so Bucky quietly frowns at his canvas, tongue poking between his lips. Today’s class is a still life, their reference a pale blue vase of flowers on a table in the center of the room. Steve has rendered it beautifully, even captured the soft lighting from the windows on the west wall of the room. Sam’s attempt is passable, for someone with no training at all in studio art.

It isn’t that Bucky doesn’t have some skill, or proficiency, or artistic eye. He remembers sitting through a couple of figure drawing classes with Steve - he managed to learn a thing or two, when he wasn’t winking at the models. And his work isn’t bad, he knows that, but -

Well. He doesn’t think it’s worth making.

**********

He keeps coming to the class for a few weeks, when Steve’s schedule is free from missions and meetings, of course. They sit near the back of the room and Bucky makes good attempts but he’s not really sure if he’s making art.

“You know, I’m really not sure if oils are your medium.”

The class is over, and the instructor stands at Bucky’s elbow, looking at the row of paintings laid along the shelf to dry. Bucky had been comparing his work to his classmates, thinking pretty much the same thing.

“Not that you don’t have a hand for painting,” the instructor continues, hands slipping into the pockets of her overalls. “But I think you’re letting it intimidate you - you put too much pressure on yourself and then you hesitate. I’ve noticed.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Bucky shrugs. “I guess.” The instructor laughed a little, adjusting the glasses on the bridge of her nose.

“See? You hesitated to tell me that you hesitate.” She was shaking her head with a not unkind smile.

“Jeez - you have a side gig as a therapist?”

“Nope - just good at seeing people.”

Bucky shifted his feet, not used to the feeling of being closely observed - it definitely wasn’t something he liked. Seeming to sense this, the instructor took a step back, shrugging her shoulders and looking away from him.

“Look, you should keep coming,” she offered. “You have some talent, that’s for sure. But you can try other things. Doesn’t have to be oil paint and flowers. What do you want to make?”

Steve is waiting outside the classroom, reading the bulletin board in the hallway. Fluorescent-colored flyers litter the board, interspersed with lost pet ads, ride shares, roommate offers, and piano lessons. Steve fingers one, tears off the number for an Asian cooking class, and tucks the slip of paper in his jacket pocket. He turns when he hears Bucky’s footsteps, that classic smile curling up his mouth.

“You, ready?”

“Yep.”

They take the subway back, dutifully ignoring the raised eyebrows and cell phones that turn their way. It’s New York - sooner or later people get over it. Bucky’s metal hand is wrapped loosely around a pole that Steve leans against, supersoldier strength and balance making him barely shift as the train speeds and slows.

“Sam is supposed to get back from that recon op this afternoon,” Steve says, his voice low enough keep their conversation private. “He’ll probably want takeout for dinner.”

Bucky nods. “He always does, after a mission. Milks it for all he’s worth, so we have to get his favorite - I bet he’ll want fried rice from that Thai place, and we better make sure there’s cold beer in the fridge.”

Steve just smiles, glances down at his sneakers, shifts his feet a little. He’ll never say a word, a single goddamn word, about how much Bucky and Sam pay attention to each other. About Bucky remembering Sam’s takeout order from every single one of their usual places; about Sam bringing home new exotic fruits from the health food market so Bucky could try things that weren’t available back in the day. He will never breathe a single word about how Bucky took Sam’s laundry and scrubbed the blood out after that mission in Denver went bad, or Sam driving back and forth to Bucky’s therapy appointments, in spite of the distance.

Loose lips, Rogers. Nope. His are sealed.

**********

“If I didn’t know any better, I would honest to God think that Stark didn’t respect me,” Sam shakes his head, shovelling rounded lumps of rice into his mouth with his chopsticks. His cheeks are comically full, but he continues to talk. “I mean, the guy really asked if I needed air support. Me? Baby, I am air support.”

Steve makes a noise of assent around a mouthful of noodles that he continues to slurp into his mouth. Bucky says nothing, but smiles into his egg roll. The coffee table in front of them is littered with takeout boxes, some still full, some already emptied. Steve and Bucky have already finished 2 beers each - Sam is drinking at a slower pace so he can continue to talk.

“I fucking invented air support. Pssh.” Sam rolls his eyes, settling back against the cushions of the couch and pulling his standard blanket over his lap.

The TV is set to a sports channel, a college basketball game they’re not too invested in carrying on in the background. Sam talks and talks, the other two barely getting a word in, but that’s alright - he always needs this, after a mission. Sam has to get it all out, decompress, debrief, de-everything in that post-victory rush of adrenaline he’s still high on when he comes home. They let him - they sit around in their sweatpants and half-watch a ballgame and shoot the shit over beers and Thai, and let Sam come back to himself.

“So,” Sam sighs, sipping his beer. “What’d you old farts get up to while I was gone, huh?”

“Mm, not much.” Steve’s reply is muffled as he continues to inhale his noodles. “Art class. Running.”

“Getting some goddamn peace and quiet,” Bucky pipes up, crumpling up the now empty egg roll bag and reaching for a full styrofoam container of steaming fried rice.

“Ha ha.” Sam doesn’t even look up from his food. “Y’all know it’s boring as hell around here without me. And who else is gonna help you two to meet some females? Hm? You think people are lining up to wingman for your hundred-year-old asses? No way!”

“What would we do without you, Sam?” Steve asks, that ironic twist to his mouth that Bucky has known all his life.

“You’d be star-spangled roadkill, I can tell you that much.”

They laugh and settle, eyes passing over the ballgame as one of the teams lines up for a free throw. It’s just the three of them in their little place, but it feels full. It’s enough. It’s home.

**********

Over the next few weeks, Bucky takes the painting instructor’s advice.

He rolls out huge canvases on the floor and slings paint in random patterns, layers of splatter until he feels like his eyes have crossed. The freedom, the lack of pressure, the fun of throwing paint around like a child - all of that he likes, but still.

“Still not sure if it’s my thing,” he tells Steve, as they look at his finished piece propped up against the wall. Steve nods, lips pursed.

“Well, we could hang it up at the compound. Tony keeps talking about needing more art around that place.”

Bucky just rolls his eyes.

“I’m not five, Steve. You don’t have to hang my scribbles on the fridge.”

He goes back to the studio and slings pots - pots and vases and key bowls and jewelry dishes and mugs. They’re passable, usable, functional - these are the words he thinks of when he glazes them in soft blue and yellow shades. Bucky likes the feel of it under his fingers, the wet firmness of the clay that yields to his hands. He’s gotten little bits of dried clay between the metal plates of his arm, but he doesn’t mind - he’s learned they’re easy enough to dislodge with a toothbrush. He gives away or takes home all of his little projects, happy to see them used.

Sam gifts him with a polaroid camera he found going through some of his parents things, and Bucky fiddles with it until he’s quite good at taking pictures. Whenever they go out he has his camera slung around his neck, an extra packet of film and a flashbar in his backpack. He has dozens of photos now - photos of Steve sipping coffee and flipping off the camera. Photos of Sam and Rhodey laughing, in full gear, when the team had drinks at the compound last month. A few photos of Natasha and Wanda, who come over to the brownstone sometimes - Natasha’s legs are folded over the end of the couch, while Wanda gets a piggyback ride from Steve. He tacks the pictures up, covering nearly half of the wall of his bedroom, not caring about the holes he leaves in the drywall.

It’s Wanda who introduces him to knitting, one weekend when both Steve and Sam get called out on a potential terror situation in London. There’s a rule - unspoken, unwritten - among Steve’s friends that someone comes to check on Bucky whenever they have to leave him alone. He doesn’t protest, knowing that they do it out of kindness and loyalty to Steve; he knows all about being loyal to Steve.

Wanda sits cross-legged on the couch, her fingers working the knitting needles at a hypnotic pace. He likes Wanda; she’s quiet and sensitive, all soft smiles and knowing eyes. A room always feels calmer with her in it. She had used his hands earlier to loop the yarn, and now he watches her over the top of his book, which he has all but abandoned.

When he asks her about the knitting, if she can show him, she looks up. Soft smiles and knowing eyes.

Bucky has always been good with his hands, so no one is surprised that he’s good at knitting. Eventually, they all have something he’s made: a beanie for Sam, a scarf for Steve, fingerless gloves for Wanda, and blankets galore for their too-cold brownstone.

**********

It fills up his time, somehow.

Bucky makes drawings, and paintings, and little origami birds out of grocery receipts. He makes bowls he can give to his friends and pictures that he can keep and blankets that he can share. He scours google and breaks a few (literal) eggs and makes banana bread that fills the brownstone with a smell that he could float on. He makes pancakes and poems and -

Bucky makes.

On the subway with Steve - a figure drawing class tonight - Bucky is staring at his hands. Ungloved metal and soft scarred flesh. His hands are tools, they’re instruments. They can be molds or looms or brushes or chisels.

“Weapons” doesn’t even enter his mind at all.

Tags:

@vacant-writings

@bitsandbobsandstuff

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #stucky #sambucky #marvel #marvel fic

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hunnywrites · 5 years

Photo

Arcade Dreams: Chapter Nine

Summary: There’s a new girl working at the Palace Arcade and Hawkins’ Family Video. Billy can’t stand her, and the feeling is mutual. No matter what everyone else seems to think.

Pairing: Billy Hargrove/OFC

A/N: Thanks everyone for the well wishes about the hurricane! Thankfully it didn’t hit us too badly. I would’ve gotten this out sooner, but I was at horror nights this weekend. I got to see our boy Billy and walk through the Palace arcade. I’d definitely recommend going if you can!

Teddi woke up the next morning with a loud groan. The sun was shining so brightly in through the window she was almost too afraid to open her eyes. She also had the overwhelming feeling that something was off. Holding a hand up in an attempt to shield herself from the light, Teddi slowly cracked one eye open to look around at her surroundings. This definitely wasn’t her room. Her heart started to beat a little faster as she tried her hardest to remember everything from the night before. She remembered getting ditched, playing beer pong...Billy? Had he given her a ride home? Something about that didn’t feel right.

She remembered hanging out with Max and El, and when Teddi spotted the empty popcorn bowl and three empty cans of coke sitting on the dresser she realized that maybe Billy had given her a ride. To his house. Neither Max or El were there. It didn’t really sound like anyone was home until Teddi picked up on the sound of the shower coming from down the hall. She groaned again, rubbing at her temples as the bathroom door opened and Billy strolled out surrounded by a cloud of steam.

“Morning, Sleeping Beauty,” he teased. Teddi only stared blankly at him as Billy moved to Max’s doorway, toweling off his hair. “You’re not dreaming, Larsson. It’s really me.” it was like he could read her mind. His cocky tone was enough to knock Teddi back into reality and she rolled her eyes.

“What happened?” she asked.

“You got wasted last night. And you wouldn’t tell me where you lived, so I brought you here and you crashed with Max. I thought that was better than you waking up on David’s couch.” Teddi rubbed at her eyes and smudged the makeup she had forgotten she’d been wearing. Billy watched Teddi as she stared up at the ceiling for a moment before she slowly sat up.

“...I think I’m gonna puke.” she announced. Billy wordlessly moved aside to let Teddi pass. She hurried into the still steamy bathroom, kneeling down in front of the toilet and emptying her stomach. Billy watched on with an amused look.

Teddi’s top rode up her back slightly as she bent over the toilet, and Billy caught a glimpse of something bright and pink peeking out from the top of her skirt. He crossed his arms over his chest and grinned. “Is that a tattoo, Larsson?”

Teddi’s hand instinctively reached behind her to pull her top down. She glared over at him before grabbing a few pieces of toilet paper. She wiped her mouth and flushed the toilet. “Are you seriously checking me out while I’m throwing up? Don’t you have any shame?”

“Nope.”

She rolled her eyes. Now that she didn’t feel quite as sick anymore, it was a little more obvious to her that Billy was in nothing but a towel. “God, can you put some clothes on?”

“Why? Am I making you nervous?” it was driving Teddi absolutely insane how amused and almost happy Billy seemed to see her in this state.

“I’m just trying not to puke again.” Billy chuckled as Teddi stood and moved to the sink to wash her face. Her black eye, now turning a yellow shade as it healed, was in full view. Billy pretended not to notice.

“That why you were telling me how strong I was last night?” he asked.

Teddi scoffed. “I definitely don’t believe that...I didn’t totally freak Max and El out, did I?”

“How the hell should I know? I dumped you off in Max’s room and went to bed.” that wasn’t entirely true. After he had gotten in bed he could hear the three girls giggling like idiots, so the two girls had clearly enjoyed whatever it was Teddi had been talking about. Max hadn’t said much the next morning. She threw his bedroom door open and told him that Neil and Susan left for a movie date and she was going over to El’s before throwing a “Your girlfriend’s still asleep.” over her shoulder. The little shit.

Teddi couldn’t remember much of what happened during the impromptu sleepover. She was pretty sure she had told them they should start an all girls D&D group, but that was about it. She let out a groan. “...What time is it? I have to be at the pool at ten.”

“It’s Christmas Eve, Larsson. Pool’s closed.”

“Shit..that’s right. I guess now I can knock out for a few more hours until I have to be at the arcade,” she sighed with a short laugh. She couldn’t believe Christmas had crept up on her so quickly. She felt like she might have to throw up again.

Billy was pretty sure he’d never seen someone so completely depressed at the idea of Christmas Eve. He also wasn’t sure if Teddi knew how much she was letting her disappointment show. He felt like he was getting a peek behind the chipper, always happy Teddi curtain. “Uh...just let me get dressed. I’ll give you a ride back to your car.” Teddi only nodded and gently splashed her face with warm water again.

A few moments later Billy emerged from his room in a pair of his infamous tight blue jeans, a white tank top and a jean jacket. Of course he looks like that and I look like roadkill, she thought bitterly. Teddi pulled on her boots and her jacket and silently followed Billy out to his car. The awkward silence during the drive made her want to scream, and she let out a relieved sigh when Billy turned the radio on with a jab of his finger.

“Um, so...thank you. For all of this…” Teddi knew that Billy didn’t like pleasantries like this, but she truly did appreciate that he had looked out for her.

Billy shook his head and refused to meet her glance. “Don’t worry about it, Teddi.”

“No, really. I mean you could have just left me there-”

“I’m not a complete fucking dick, Larsson,” Billy snapped. “I give you shit sometimes. I’m not about to leave you passed out on the couch for some creep to feel up on.” and while that was just...common human decency, Teddi was a little surprised to hear something like that from Billy. It made her feel a tiny bit guilty for thinking so little of him so often. He could be a dick sure, but he wasn’t evil.

Teddi pinched the bridge of her nose. “That’s not what I meant. It’s just...I guess I’m not used to other people looking out for me. I usually look after myself. So can you just let me say thank you without arguing with me like a normal person?” she snapped.

Billy scoffed, but said nothing. Like the day at Melvald’s, Billy had caught a glimpse of a genuine anger that he hadn’t known that Teddi had. It was more than just the general annoyance she felt when they bickered. This was something he could see in her eyes. It looked similar to the anger he felt. Teddi was just obviously much better at working past it than he was.

Teddi knew that Billy hadn’t believed her lie about falling on ice. She knew that in some capacity he had put two and two together and he knew that there was something more going on that she didn’t want to talk about. And there was part of her that wanted nothing more than to just tell someone about it, especially at a moment like this. But it was Billy. If she said anything she knew that he wouldn’t have cared.

So she bit back the rest of her explanation as to why she had been grateful for Billy looking out for her, and instead neither of them said anything. They both sat silently as Billy drove her back to the arcade and listened to the Scorpions. When he finally pulled into the arcade’s parking lot she almost let out a cry of relief. “So...thanks again. I guess I’ll see you...whenever,”

Billy held up his hand in a short wave, but said nothing. Teddi quickly slid out of the Camaro and took a step back as Billy nearly peeled out of the parking lot and sped off. “Such a jackass,” Teddi muttered as she headed over to her van. She rested her head against the steering wheel and let out another loud groan. She was never going to let herself drink that much again. Her head felt like a rock.

The drive home felt like it took forever. It was silent except for the thump, thump, thump that repeated in Teddi’s head as if her skull was threatening to explode. Thankfully her dad’s car wasn’t in the driveway. Whether that meant he was working or somewhere else, Teddi only cared that he wasn’t home. Her mother was though. Bonnie Larsson was sitting at the kitchen table flipping through a magazine and completely unaware that Teddi had come home.

“...Hey, mom.” Teddi muttered.

Her mom didn’t look up. “Hmmm? Hi, Teddi. Aren’t you supposed to be at work?” and to think Teddi had been so worried that she’d get in trouble for being out all night. She probably could’ve taken a trip down to Mexico with Billy and neither of her parents would have noticed. It almost annoyed her.

“I don’t have to go in until later...where’s dad?” she asked tentatively.

Bonnie flipped another page of her magazine. “He’s working. Some big meeting today or something.” Teddi found that to be unusual. The construction team for the Starcourt mall was having a team meeting on Christmas Eve? Some higher up thought it was important enough to have her dad at that meeting? In any case, Teddi was sure that’s all she’d be getting out of her mother no matter how many questions she had now.

“Oh, okay...I’ll be in my room,” her mom let out a small hum, and Teddi headed down the hall to her bedroom, shutting the door quietly behind her. She landed face first down onto her bed and let out a loud groan. She had half a mind to just fall asleep right then and there with her coat and boots still on.

Then her phone rang.

Teddi groaned again, sitting up and reaching over for the hot pink phone that sat on her nightstand. “Hello?” she grumbled, rubbing at her forehead in an attempt to get rid of her headache.

“Teddi! How could you not have told me?” it was Heather.

“Uh...that depends. How could I have not told you what?” Teddi asked with a frown.

“That you totally hooked up with Billy Hargrove last night!”

Teddi sat up quickly, her eyes going wide. She felt like she was going to puke again. “What? What? That totally, completely did not happen-” she stuttered out. On her drive home she had remembered bits and pieces of the night before. Billy driving her home. Smoking together. She definitely didn’t remember anything that was even in the realm of hooking up.

“Teddi, it’s me. You can tell me. I can’t blame you, I mean he’s Billy. You have to tell me what it was like.”

Teddi pinched the bridge of her nose. “Heather, I barely even remember last night and I can still confidently tell you that absolutely nothing happened with Billy and me.”

Heather let out a short huff. “Please. Tommy said that last night he walked in on Cheryl Burns and Brian Jean hooking up in David’s parents bedroom, and then he said he saw Billy carrying you out to his car a few hours later.” well, at least that explained where Brian went. The asshole. But the fact that all of these pieces were enough to actually make it look like she had in fact drunkenly hooked up with Billy was enough to make her want to scream.

“Heather, trust me. If I hooked up with someone I would tell you. He just gave me a ride home is all.” and of course the insane idea of Billy Hargrove giving someone a ride out of the goodness of his heart probably made her story sound that much more like a lie.

Heather was silent for a few moments on the other line, most likely trying to decide whether she believed Teddi or not. “This is the last time I get gossip from Tommy. He never knows what he’s talking about. I’m pretty sure half the time he makes stuff up just so people will pay attention to him. Anyways, I guess I’ll see you at work in a few days?”

Teddi nodded, extremely grateful that Heather had decided to drop the topic. “Yep. See ya then, Heather.” Heather hung up after an all too cherry “Merry Christmas!” and Teddi set the phone down with a sigh of relief. That relief quickly turned into annoyance as she kicked her boots off angrily in the direction of her closet. Did Billy have any idea what people were saying about them? If they hadn’t gotten into that fight in his car would he have told her? Even if he did, what would he care? He probably loved the fact that the entire school thought he’d finally gotten her in bed.

She was muttering angrily to herself as she finally changed from her party outfit and into some pajamas. Even when he was being nice he still somehow managed to be a thorn in her side. Teddi decided that the next time she saw him it would be her throwing him in the pool. But now it was time for much, much needed sleep. If she could stop stewing over Billy. He ruins everything, she thought with a huff.

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove fic #billy hargrove x oc

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maiuoart · 5 years

Note

More along the angsty route, but what if either brother had a s/o that was being stalked? Varying degrees like just following them around to sending them terrifying gifts or breaking into their home to take stuff. And what if the s/o didn't seen to notice? Scatter-brained little, sweet bean. 'Maybe I just... Left that there?' 'I swear I closed that window..' 'Eugh, this must have been sent to the wrong house..'

Ohh!!! Ooooohhhhhhhhhh!!!! Thats such a good question?! Yes, yes, yes!! Bring all the f**kin’ angst at me, bro!!!

If their S/O was a scatter brain, sweet, adoring, and very naive… Well, they’d be a lot more protective. Have to protect the one who gives them reasons to smile every day!

If it was Mutt’s S/O; Lets just say, he would watch and stay quiet for a bit, would notice right away something wasn’t right the first few times it happens. He might have doubts at first that they might be cheating. He wouldn’t rightfully mind it, would want to ask to join in or be told to of another possible lover his S/O would have, but that would be tossed out the window when his S/O would be confused as actual hell and tell him they didn’t understand what he was talking about, along the fact he doesn’t smell anyone else on them. He’s got a really good sense of smell, bro. He’ll even go so far as to stalk his S/O to see who’s stalking his personal love interest when they begin to get special items and actually notice things his S/O wouldn’t do.

When he finds the stalker; Count your stars he will actually stalk them for a good while… Will make sure to do to them what they do to his S/O; But if you don’t harm his S/O while you’re doing your creepy shit? Well, he’ll pretty much become your own stalker, would probably have a few shocking surprises for you of your own, and will mainly scare you senseless, while taking back all his S/O’s stuff you stole. Hell, take some of your own shit to ruin later. Because you’re scaring his lover, he won’t let you go without tormenting you anyway he can.

Box of flowers? Thanks for the flowers, have your box back filled with roadkill. Fancy jewels? Thanks for that, you can have this revolting bag of pigs intestines on the middle of your bed. Nice lingerie? Hey, something he can tear off them with his claws, so thoughtful! Have fun with all your plumbing backed up with sewage… For weeks.

With the more disgusting things Mutt would find, anything he deems he personally wouldn’t like, will grab the gifts and other shit they sent to his lover and put it right back into their house, torturing them mentally by making them confused as all hell. Will see if that works to scare them off…Really; He would make sure all the gifts you gave his lover have a way different meaning, taking credit while also getting it custom made differently… He should thank you for spending all that money, so have his thanks in ways of intimidation and gorey ‘More if you fuck with my Mate, Boy-yo.’ Fuck, have a picture of him fucking his S/O in the gifts you gave them… Heh, then back the fuck off~

Hell, if they don’t get the subtle hints, Mutt will go and become his intimidating self, make it just so it was him and the stalker, and will tell them off, with more threats than necessary. If it doesn’t and they continue to do their idiotic shit? Well, he will become the destruction of their nice lives… Because, honestly; You tried to take his personal love, which has become his whole world… So the only payback is to ruin your whole world, which you don’t share shit with.

He will find pride in that while he’s ruining everything.

Though, bonus points if you had someone, but wanted to try and cheat on them with his S/O!! Ohhh, that’d just make Mutt preen with joy as he takes on more and more horrible ideas to destroy your life; Making sure you live in a rundown apartment and everything… Hoo, that’d be great~

Mutt’s all good for murder… But he’d rather not get his hands dirty, all it was was stalking. Besides…

Some of those gifts seemed to really make his little Doll light up, how could he take them away from them when they think it came from him?…

Yeah, you also put him in the situation to gift them sporadically… But, that’s alright. Anything to keep his Lover happy and not think anything else is great~

If it was for Blacks S/O; Like his brother, he would know something would be off right at the beginning. However, he knows his S/O would never do anything to harm him, that’s why he chose them after all! So his doubts wouldn’t be like his brothers; Instead, he would sit down his S/O and ask them questions about if they had paid attention to anyone suspicious… Cause, he would know. Just know someone was out to gain his treasure.

And he is not one for sharing.

When his S/O says they have no idea or rather don’t know what to think of a possible person who would ever deem wanting to follow them around, Black makes it a very good habit of walking them to and from, or driving them to work; Whatever says you and their situation on living. Blacks eyes would find the stalker immediately. But instead of making a scene like he would be used to, he would wait for a little bit…

Gifts to his S/O? Nope, he’ll grab it and gain cash back for it. Nothing the creatin buys his S/O is worthy… But, human cash is.

Yes, he wouldn’t actually need it… But salt in the wounds, one would say. Besides, Black could give it to his S/O and take them on a shopping trip once he takes care of you… He doesn’t want to spoil his treasure too much; Only after the situation is down and completed to celebrate the lack of stalking in his Lovers life.

Black would also buy back whatever he can that you stole from his S/O; Because whatever the fuck they had touched... Is probably disgusting now, he doesn’t want his Lover to have it back in their possession unless it was something like a family heirloom that meant something.

How he would do it would be find everything out about you. Who you are, who you work for, every single thing about you… Only to take his brothers second way; Ruin your life. But unlike his brother, he will straight up threaten you. Go right up to your home, intimidate you without touching, and will drink in the fear and nervous sight he would see as he threatened to ruin your Bank account, Job, every single thing you care for; Family, Friends, and other loved ones. He will ruin it all…

If you thought he was lying? Oh, you poor soul… No mercy then. He will make sure that his Lovers stalker is so down on their luck, their only way out is to pretty much kill themselves… Or go to jail by their own means- Whichever one comes first, he will enjoy it.

No one messes with his Lover and gets to live happily… Your life will become filled with ‘Bad Luck’…. Or until he gets bored of you.

But trust me… Black is prone to enjoy his torturous ways….

Both brothers won’t revert to murder right away… Unless you actually hurt or harm their lovers. If the person had harmed them in any way, forced themselves on them, touched them, etc; Oh…

Oh boy, you will be killed when they get that information.

#Mai HC #Mai Swapfell HC #Swapfell #Swapfell HC #Headcanons #Stalkers for the brothers Lovers #They both will ruin your lives

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orangeoctopi7 · 5 years

Text

Responsibility

What am I doing? Stan asked himself for the umpteenth time that morning. He was sitting in the parking lot beside the hotel Ford was staying in, fidgeting restlessly as he waited for them. He’d gotten impatient and just drove over at 10 am, even though he knew they probably wouldn’t be leaving for another hour.

Maybe he’d come here because being so close made it just a little harder to run away. And there was a big part of him that wanted to run away. Who was he fooling? Things were never going to be the same between him and Ford. He was just setting himself up for disappointment, he should know better by now.

But Ford asked me to come. He reminded himself. He asked me. He's a straight-forward guy, he wouldn't ask me to come if he didn't actually want me around… Still, the doubts in his mind persisted. If I bail on him now, after he asked me to come with him and I said yes, that'll just give him one more reason to hate me. The second he doesn't want me around, then I can leave. That was reasoning both his hopes and his fears could get behind.

Finally, just ten minutes before check-out time, Ford and his assistant, Mc-Whats-his-name, rolled into the parking lot with their luggage. They loaded it into a small pickup truck parked just a few spaces away from Stan's car. The assistant got into the driver's seat, and Ford walked over to Stan’s already rolled-down window.

“Gravity Falls is pretty far out into the backwoods. It’s hard to find if you don’t know where to go, so follow Fiddleford closely.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know how to find my way around.” Stan schooled his expression to be as disinterested as possible. The last thing he wanted was to seem desperate.

Stan followed the little truck out of the parking lot and onto the interstate. With every exit they passed, that rebellious fear inside him whispered: You could just turn off here, and by the time they notice you’ll be long gone. Each time Stan shook his head and pushed a little harder on the accelerator. I’m not turning back now. These nerds need someone with sense to look after them.

And gradually, as he passed by more and more exits, his fears quieted and his hopes grew. Here he was, going on a road trip with his brother! Sure, they were in separate cars, but still! They’d be living together for the first time since the science fair incident. Maybe this was exactly what they needed to finally make things right between them.

He clamped down on the growing hope just like he’d clamped down on the whispering fears. Don’t get your hopes up. No matter what I hope might happen, the only reason I’m being invited out here it to be a glorified science experiment.

-_-_-

After a couple of hours on the interstate, they finally reached the exit that would take them to Gravity Falls. Of course, there was still a good hour of driving down the winding timber roads of Roadkill County before they reached the cabin. Ford glanced into the rearview mirror to make sure Stan was still following them. Yes, there was the STNLYMBL license plate, right on their tail.

“You been checkin’ that rearview mirror so much, you might as well’ve sat backwards the whole trip.” Fiddleford joked.

“Just… making sure he made the exit.” Ford said stiffly.

“Don’t worry, if’n he makes a break for it, I’ll let you know.”

“Do you really think he’d do that?” the researcher asked his friend worriedly.

“I dunno, he’s your brother.” McGucket shrugged. “But we are bringin’ him out to a cabin in the middle of nowhere to do experiments on him. If’n it were me, I’d run, even if it were my kin doin’ it.”

“I’m not going to treat my own brother like a lab rat!” Ford bristled. “I know ethics isn’t a strength for either of us, but I do have some morals. Stan underwent a major postnatal genetic mutation that completely altered his senses and physical abilities. He seems to be stable now, but from the sound of it I don’t think he’s had so much as a checkup since then. What if that rapid mutation had a negative impact on his health? I know he seems fine, but what if it weakened his immune system? What if it accelerated his cellular degeneration? What if the mutation is continuing, but it hasn’t physically manifested yet? What if it’s shortened his lifespan? What if-- ”

“Stanford, calm down! I get it, you just wanna make sure yer brother’s ok. But does he know that?” Fiddleford jerked a thumb back at the red car following them.

“I highly doubt Stanley would have agreed to come if he didn’t.”

“I dunno… back in Portland you were just goin’ on and on about helpin’ him develop his powers and be a better crime fighter. Seemed like you were less concerned about yer brother and more concerned about the Spider Man.”

“Well I don’t want to alarm him! My fears about heretofore unseen effects of the mutation are currently just that, fears. I don’t see any reason to worry him with them until we have evidence that he might be in danger.”

Fiddleford nodded. “Makes sense, I guess. It’s just, I know things between you and yer brother are strained.”

“That’s a gross understatement.”

“I’m just sayin’, it’d probably do you some good to extend an olive branch, so to speak. He probably won’t wanna stay long if’n he feels like you only brought him here because of his powers.”

“I doubt Stan will want to stay long regardless. He has his own life to get back to, being the Spider Man. I suspect he only agreed to come in the first place out of some sort of familial obligation.”

“Maybe.” McGucket didn’t sound convinced.

-_-_-

It was late afternoon when they finally reached the cabin. Stan gave a low whistle as he got out and stretched. He’d always stuck to the cities after he left home; it was easier to pickpocket on a crowded urban street than some podunk town. This was the first time he’d ever been in a densely wooded area like this. It was beautiful.

“D’you need help unpacking?” Mc-Whats-his-name asked.

“Nah.” Stan shook his head and grabbed his pillow and an armful of clothes. As he looked up at the cabin, with its peaked roof and many triangular windows, he began to feel uneasy. His fears were getting the better of him. Better not unpack too much. I’ll be lucky if he lets me stay more than one night.

“Come on, Stanley, I’ll show you where you can stay, then I want to get started right away.” Ford called from the porch, already carrying his luggage into the house.

Stan followed his brother inside and up the stairs. He paused on the landing when his eye caught the strange design on the rug beneath his feet. It was a gold triangle on a red background, with a single piercing eye in the center and lines radiating out from it. He felt his spider-sense twinge. That was weird. His spider-sense had always been a full-on warning of oncoming danger, like all his nerves were yelling “Watch Out!” at once. This was different. He felt the same way looking at this image that he used to feel whenever he was up someplace high. Like an alarm bell was going off in his head saying “This is Dangerous!”

“What’s this?” He asked Ford, who had noticed him stop and look down at the floor.

Ford’s eyes grew wide with surprise for a moment, but then he grinned like Stan had just asked him to brag about one of his experiments.

“Oh yes! That! It’s a, uh, cryptid I’m personally very interested in. This image is found all over the world, in countless times and cultures, but the, um, creature itself only seems to, ah, show up for one particular person, once a generation. I’ve seen it depicted in some cave paintings not far from here. Beautiful, isn’t it?”

“More like creepy.” Stan shuddered.

Ford’s grin flipped to an annoyed frown. “Well, I suppose there’s no accounting for taste.” He sniffed.

“I think that thing’s creepy too.” Fiddleford whispered to Stan as Ford continued up the stairs. “He’s got ‘em all over the house, gives me the heebie-jeebies.”

“Yeah, well, Ford always loved his creepy junk.” Stan shrugged and followed after his brother.

They reached the attic and what was clearly meant to be a storage room, although there was a full-size mattress sitting under yet another triangular window.

“Here were are.” Stanford spread his arms wide, “Sorry it’s such a mess, obviously I wasn’t expecting to bring anyone else back with me from Portland. You can just shove everything into that corner behind the door. I’ll find some sheets for you before you go to bed.”

Stan took it all in as he plopped his pillow and the few clothes he’d brought in with him on the mattress. “Still nicer than most of the motels I’ve stayed in.”

Ford frowned again and exited the room. “Well, like I said, I want to get started right away. I think we’ll just start with some bloodwork and a basic checkup.”

“Bloodwork?” Stan grimaced.

“Don’t be such a baby, Stanley, it’s just a finger-prick.”

So Stan followed his brother back down the stairs and into what appeared to be a library. There were bookshelves everywhere, but there were also quite a few experiments in various stages of completion set out on some tables, so it was really hard to tell the purpose of the room.

“We’re gonna do blood work in here?” Stan asked.

“Of course not, it’s not sanitary! We’re going down to the lab.” Ford stepped over to the bookshelf sitting closest to the door into the hallway and pushed aside a few books on the top shelf, revealing a hidden panel in the wood. He pushed it aside, pressed a series of buttons, and the bookshelf swung open like a doorway.

“...Ford, do you have a freakin’ secret lair under your house?”

“Yep!”

-_-_-

Stanford drifted off to sleep quickly that night. It had been a long day, what with the three-hour drive and trying to make his previously estranged brother feel at home up in the attic, all the while taking blood samples and running tests on said brother to make sure his superhuman mutation wasn’t slowly killing him. So far everything looked fine, but the results of the blood samples wouldn’t be done until tomorrow night.

Ford was a bit surprised when Bill appeared to him that night. Usually the muse’s visits were few and far between, a rare, privileged occasion. But ever since work on the portal began, these dream-visions were becoming more and more regular.

“GOOD, YOU’RE FINALLY BACK! BUT IT SEEMS LIKE YOU’VE BROUGHT ANOTHER DISTRACTION BACK WITH YOU!”

“I know I said I’d get right back to work on the portal when I returned,” Ford said sheepishly, “But I didn’t expect to actually meet the Spider Man, and I certainly didn’t expect him to be Stanley, of all people!”

“YEAH, CRAZY COINCIDENCE. I’M JUST HAVING A HARD TIME UNDERSTANDING WHY YOU’D BRING HIM BACK WITH YOU TO STUDY WHEN YOU’VE ALREADY GOT YOUR HANDS FULL WITH THE PORTAL PROJECT.”

“I didn’t bring Stanley back just to study!” Ford insisted. “Why does everyone have such a hard time seeing that? Undergoing a major genetic mutation like that could have some serious consequences on his body systems. I just want to make sure there aren’t any hidden side-effects.”

“SO YOU’VE GOTTA PUT YOUR WORLD-CHANGING MAGNUM OPUS ON HOLD FOR YOUR DEADBEAT BROTHER.” Bill sighed in irritation. “THIS IS WHY I CUT TIES WITH MY FAMILY A LOOOOONG TIME AGO.”

“I-I’ve cut ties with my family, for the most part….” the researcher stammered. He didn’t want his muse to think he was weak. “But I’m largely responsible for Stan undergoing these mutations, and as such it’s my responsibility to ensure they won’t have any negative long-term effects on him!”

“SURE. RESPONSIBILITY. I’M SURE THE IRRESPONSIBLE LOSER WHO USES HIS INCREDIBLE POWERS TO PICKPOCKET AND GET HIMSELF OUT OF JAIL FREE WILL APPRECIATE THAT. I DON’T BLAME YOU FOR BEING JEALOUS.”

“What? I’m not jealous of Stan! Far from it!” The thought had never even crossed Ford’s mind.

“C’MON SIXER, LET’S BE REAL HERE. YOU DID ALL THE WORK OF RESEARCHING THE EFFECTS OF RADIATION ON SPIDERS, OF RAISING THEM, OF STUDYING THEM. AND THEN YOUR BUFFOON OF A BROTHER TIPS OVER THEIR CAGE AND HE GETS ALL THE POWERS AND THE FAME OF BEING THE SPIDER MAN. AND WHAT DO YOU GET IN RETURN? SHUT OUT OF YOUR DREAM SCHOOL! WHO WOULDN’T BE JEALOUS?”

Ford hadn’t even connected these dots, but now that Bill mentioned it, the muse made some very good points.

“YOU WISH IT WAS YOU.” Bill said in a sing-song voice.

“Yes.” Ford heard himself say, although he hadn’t consciously thought that. “I mean, no!” He corrected quickly. “It seems that Stan’s suffered quite a bit despite his powers. Maybe even because of them. And without either of us realizing it, his role as the Spider Man helped my thesis that led to my research grant. I might not be here today if it wasn’t for him.”

“OH, I THINK YOU’D STILL BE HERE.” Bill assured him, “FATE BROUGHT YOU TO ME. IT’S YOUR DESTINY TO OPEN THE GATEWAY. I’M JUST WORRIED YOUR BROTHER BEING HERE WILL LEAD TO TROUBLE.”

“He won’t.” Stanford assured the muse.

“YOU’RE SURE YOU WON’T GET DISTRACTED AND LOSE YOUR RESOLVE?”

“Absolutely. I’ll make time to work on the Portal, don’t worry.”

“OK, BUT REMEMBER, I’M DOING THIS FOR YOU. IF YOU WANT YOUR GRAND UNIFYING THEORY OF WEIRDNESS, YOU’RE GONNA NEED ME AND THAT PORTAL.”

“I know, I know, and I’m very grateful. I just need to take care of Stan first.”

“WELL, I SUPPOSE THAT’S THE MOST I CAN ASK OF A MORTAL LIKE YOU.” Bill said with a long-suffering sigh. Ford frowned like a kicked puppy. The last thing he wanted to do was disappoint his muse. “BUT HEY, JUST TO SHOW THERE’S NO HARD FEELINGS, HOW ABOUT A GAME OF INTERDIMENSIONAL CHESS BEFORE I GO?”

“Yes! I’d love that!” the researcher agreed eagerly.

-_-_-

Stan woke with a start in the middle of the night when his spider-sense went off. It was yet another strange twinge like earlier in the day when he’d seen the rug. But this one was ten times stronger. He jumped out of bed and looked around wildly, but he couldn’t find anything that could be setting off his internal alarm.

What was going on? Normally his spider sense let him know exactly where the danger was coming from before any normal person even realized there was something wrong. Then Stan would jump out of the way and the indescribable sensation would pass. But this weird twinging spider-sense wasn’t going away, and he couldn’t seem to find what was making him feel so twitchy.

Maybe it was coming from outside? Stan cracked the window open and crawled out onto the exterior wall. He didn’t see anything, even after he climbed up onto the roof for a better view. And it wasn’t like much could hide in the bright light of the nearly-full moon.

“What the heck is going on?” Stan whined to himself. The continuous tingling of his spider-sense was really starting to grate on him. It was making him want to scream, but he didn’t want to accidentally wake up Ford, or his assistant.

Wait, that was it! The whole reason Ford had brought him up here was to study the Spider Man’s powers, maybe Ford could figure out what was wrong! Stan climbed back in his window and snuck down the stairs, trying to remember where his brother’s room was.

Ford was clearly dreaming when Stan found him, but the prolonged spider-sense ringing in Stan’s head made it a bit harder to care. The con man not-so-gently shook his brother awake.

Stan gasped when his brother’s eyes snapped open. For just a split second, they glowed a sickly yellow. But it must have been a trick of the moonlight, because he blinked and Ford’s eyes were their normal earthy brown, and blinking blearily awake.

“What… why…?” The researcher blinked a few times as he tried to figure out what had woken him. He frowned in annoyance when he realized it was his brother. “Stanley what do you think you’re doing? Why did you wake me up?” He demanded.

“Y’know how I said I can just sense danger some times? Well I’m sensing it now!” Stan explained, “I’ve been feeling weird ever since I got here, and just a few minutes ago it woke me up when it got worse. I tried to look around to see what was causing it but I can’t find anything! And…” He trailed off.

“What?”

“It stopped.” Stan said in confusion. “Just about when you woke up, it stopped.”

“Great, then go back to bed. And don’t ever wake me up unless there’s an emergency, I need my sleep.”

“This is an emergency! Or it was! I dunno, this has never happened before!”

Stanford yawned dismissively. “I have a theory that this danger sense of yours actually detects weirdness. It’s acting up now because you’ve never been in a place with such a high concentration of weirdness before. I promise I’ll look into it later, just let me go back to sleep.”

Stan wanted to argue that his spider-sense had never acted as a weirdness detector before, but he could also see that he wasn’t going to get any more out of Ford until morning. And the sensation had passed. Maybe he would be better off waiting until daylight to try and figure out what happened.

20-8-1-20 20-9-20-12-5 23-15-21-12-4 13-1-11-5 7-15-15-4 11-5-25, 23-15-21-12-4-14'20 9-20?

Klw hsrva pn oqlafrltbg szf azeg. Fftwuiydg owh qy Fvvg Qcl uiuksml me, cgj kbf'b mqdbxl ks zxa.

Nfl smltew? Tyl iwrk ejbs ghsi jsbwyq? Lpv'e utiv qw aohyp.

#Gravity Falls #Fanfiction #Spiderstan AU #Stanley Pines #Stanford Pines #This jerk #Fiddleford Mcgucket #Spider Stan AU #My Writing

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