#para: parker

[realmackross]

PARTIES: @wonder-in-wings, @realmackross TIMING: Mid-December after the Season Finale SUMMARY: Not knowing that Parker has been temporarily compromised by a bloodclinger, Mack desperately goes to him for help with removing the goo that had settled in her lungs after becoming Goo Girl IRL, but things don’t quite go as planned…WARNINGS: Unsanitary tw, medical blood tw, surgery tw, under skin tw (just to be safe), vomiting tw

Mackenzie had been uncomfortable for days after the goo had almost taken her undead life from her. The scream that had broken her free had given her her life back, but the repercussions had been that of not being able to force the icky substance that had slipped down her throat and had lingered, even after the corroding scream that had freed her and the shelter. It was as if passing air through her lungs had been nearly impossible now, and without doing so, she hadn’t been able to speak. Only make generic moans and squeaks to anyone who would listen. For a zombie, she had sounded mighty pitiful, and was grateful for technology and even a pen and paper when the moment called for it. But she couldn’t continue on like this, and the only person she knew that she thought might be able to help her had been Parker.

Reluctantly knocking on his door, Mack waited for him to answer. This would be the first time she had ever met the man in person, and to be completely honest, she was a little nervous. They had talked and fought and ignored each other via social media for way too long, but this had not been ideally how she wanted to approach him in person.

—

It wasn’t as bad as last time. But that didn’t mean that Parker had to like it this time. Thankfully, Rhett was out of his house now - not something that he wanted to admit or even acknowledge - but considering what had been going on with him for the past week now, the younger Warden was relieved about now. He didn’t want to put anyone in the line of any potential misfire, something he had since observed when he got bitten and some part of the tick had gotten lodged into his back. It turned him more irritable, more temperamental. He snapped to himself, cut conversations short. If there was any fortune to be gleaned from this side effect, it was that it wasn’t entirely obvious online; or at least, he didn’t think it was. Nonetheless, Parker had anticipated someone showing up to his house, someone he hadn’t met in person and had a few online arguments with even when he wasn’t suffering under effects from anything; they were just side effects of who he was as a person, he supposed. Mackenzie Ross, ex-actress and current zombie, had buildup in her lungs and the literal best thing Parker could think of was to carefully cut her open and see if he could find a way to get it out. That was, if she wouldn’t turn feral on him. Parker wondered if she had brought a contingency just as he himself had one for his unfortunate affliction, eyeing the opaque bottle that sat on the counter as he stood from his chair and approached the door when he managed to hear a knock on it. As he swung the wood inwards, icy blue eyes fell upon the pale, blond visage of the actress. Parker wasn’t sure what a zombie traditionally looked like but then again, it wasn’t his place to know by looking at one so regardless, he stepped aside and granted her entry. “I understand that you’re incapable of speech.” He said first before clearing his throat, closing the door and turning to face her. “Oh. Hi. I’m… Parker.” He added with a small degree of uncertainty; this was their first meeting in person, after all.

—

Mackenzie didn’t want to be here, but it was a last ditch effort. She wasn’t entirely sure of what to do. But desperate times called for desperate measures and right now this was it. Hopefully Parker knew what he was doing. Her trust in him had grown exponentially over the period they had been talking. And he seemed to care for her in his own way. But the idea of him possibly cutting into her was a whole new thing, especially since this had been the first time they had ever met in person.

When the door opened, Mack stepped back slightly not knowing what to expect, but upon seeing him, she felt some relief knowing he seemed like just another normal guy. Of course the first words out of his mouth definitely confirmed she was at the right house. Without hesitation, she nodded, before walking inside. As she stepped in, she let her eyes wander around taking in the sights, before letting them fall back on Parker. A squeak of a “hi” and a wave was shot in his direction, before she pulled out the brand new phone she had purchased not too long after the whole having to be rescued from the goo debacle.

What are you going to do? How are you going to fix this? She typed out the words on her phone, before turning it around to show him. Quickly, pulling the phone back to her, Mackenzie typed in something else and turned it back around to face him so he could read it, And don’t drop my phone. It’s new.

—

Fortunately, whatever he had said assured her that he was who he said he was; he realized shortly after allowing her in that the situation wasn’t entirely normal, a middle-aged man offering for a young, established actor to come inside his house. Parker hoped that their relationship had been able to establish enough that on the off-chance someone objected to it, she would have his back. She seemed like a better public speaker. Well… not now, as there was a pitiable noise that Parker guessed was supposed to be a ‘hi’ accompanied with a wave. She was moving adequately, her mental processing didn’t seem to be delayed. She reacted in an appropriately timely manner. He also didn’t think much of the new phone - she was famous, she was rich. It wouldn’t have surprised him if she bought a new phone as soon as an updated model became available. Assuming she was planning on using this to communicate, he placed his hands on his hips and he leaned in to read what she wrote. He was still chewing on the answer, which he had offered to her before she had graced his doorstep, when she pulled the phone back and wrote up another message. A scoff escaped at the most recent instruction and he straightened up, keeping his icy blue eyes on Mack. “I’m not planning on dropping your phone.” Parker assured her first. “And I… have one potential solution. But I’m not sure how much damage your organs can take before…” He trailed off, starting to pace in his rhythmic way; three steps, turn, three steps, turn. All the while, he kept his stare on the zombie. “Usually, when there’s fluid buildup in the lungs, one can use oxygen or medication to get rid of it.” He explained. “This is obviously a little more… extreme than water, mucus or blood.” He paused. “I can either… operate on you, open your lungs and attempt to extract the fluid.” Parker wasn’t a doctor, nor was he a professional surgeon. That being said, the effects were largely inconvenient to her instead of actively detrimental for her health; if there was someone to experiment on in the name of science, a zombie seemed like a natural option. Well, as “natural” as the concept of undead could be. “Alternatively, I can insert a tube and try to aspirate your lungs that way.” He offered. Neither were ideal, but at least she wasn’t dying from this. He… decided to keep that comment to himself.

—

Mackenzie quickly turned the phone back around and typed the words Thank you, before flashing it in his direction. She had been lucky enough to get what she needed from her other phone. Contacts, stuff for work, but more importantly, her photos, texts, and voicemails from Brody. It was what she had feared losing the most, when she had first seen her phone was crushed, but the situation didn’t allow her to dwell on it at the time, and instead of letting it fester and linger, the very next day she went and got it all taken care of. She had missed her old phone though, especially since she was still getting used to this new one.

As Mack listened to him explain her options, neither had sounded that great. Cut her open like a frog to dissect and explore or stick a tube down her throat. The tube option did sound like the better option, and it would be less invasive. Plus, it’s not like she really had much of a gag reflex anymore so any fear of her doing her best impression of Linda Blair, he didn’t really have to worry about.

Making her decision, Mackenzie quickly started typing out her answer. Let’s go with the tube. It doesn’t sound as bad or as painful. She showed him her choice before pulling the phone back towards and looking up at him. She was curious what he would think. Would he be excited she wasn’t wanting him to cut into her or would he be disappointed? It was quite the weird conversation, but it was fucking Wicked’s Rest, and nothing here ever seemed to be normal. Wicked’s Rest…the only place in the world that could make Hollywood look sane.

—

Parker let the ‘thank you’ slide this time since it was him and her and not spoken along with the recognition that it was more of a placeholder instead of an actual thanks, meaning he didn’t need to reciprocate with an awkward response. Instead, he offered a nod of his head in response as he continued his pacing. As she considered the options he suggested, he himself thought about the tools he had and if there were any he would need - he was an amateur surgeon, to be sure, but he wasn’t really prepared for a full-blown surgical procedure. Opening her up and getting straight to the lungs might’ve been easier. He could go through her back and– She interrupted his thoughts with her reply and he paused in his pacing to look at her phone. Tube it was, which wouldn’t have been so much of an issue had Parker actually thought a little further ahead about how he’d go about doing that. It was unusual for him not to have a ready solution in his head when creating suggestions but… ‘you do have a solution.’ Walker said rather cryptically. Yes, Parker had a solution. He just wasn’t sure if Mack would be on board. Without betraying whether or not he would’ve rather operated on her (though he couldn’t deny that a small part of him burned with curiosity to see just how much he could get away with. ‘Oh my god you are a serial killer.’), Parker nodded with affirmation and held up a finger. “Wait here.” He said before retreating around the doorway, into the spare room that Rhett had been staying in. Interestingly, and perhaps unexpectedly, it didn’t take long to clean up after the other Warden had left and he retrieved– ‘You can’t be serious.’ It was a few minutes but Parker returned carrying a vacuum cleaner, a look on his face that suggested that he was serious. It was a rather small thing and decidedly much newer than the rest of the house would imply, with a capsule-like body and a long, thin hose that connected to the brush. “You don’t have a gag reflex, correct?” He asked, still blunt but with a slight inflection to his voice, indicating actual curiosity. —

With Parker requesting for her to wait where she was, Mackenzie let her eyes fall back on her phone. Instagram had been the last thing she had looked at, and she mostly did it just to see what life back in Los Angeles was like. How was her family and her friends? Her fellow actor friends? Would they ever believe what her life had become, if she ever showed her face again on that side of the country? Obscure surgeries weren’t strang in Hollyweird, but when Parker returned proudly carrying a vacuum cleaner, Mack’s face quickly reacted with an obvious What the fuck?

Closing out Instagram, she moved forward to inspect the vacuum cleaner. Was this his grand plan? Pulling the Notes app up again, she quickly typed a message back to him, No gag reflex, but is this your grand plan? A vacuum cleaner? She sighed and thought for a moment. It wasn’t like she had much of a choice in the matter did she? It was: live like this for however many more years she was around, let him cut into her, or try the vacuum cleaner. Whatever. It’s not like I have much of a choice. Let's just do this. Where do I need to go? She once again flashed the phone in his direction. If this is what Mackenzie had to endure to be able to talk again, how bad could it really be?

—

This was absurd, he knew this. Even as he glanced down from the vacuum to the zombie, the logistics didn’t make a lot of sense. How was he going to insert it? There wasn’t any guarantee that it would even do anything. And Parker really didn’t have the patience to deal with her if he did something to revert her to a shambling, thoughtless mess… the thought itself twinged his brow as he shifted the weight of the vacuum entirely to one hand while the other foolishly reached to massage the lump on his back, knowing full well he couldn’t reach it. So he lowered his arm again and cast another quick glance over to the bottle. This scenario wasn’t preferable. Would her blood even elicit a reaction? What if she had reached a point of regression before any progress could be made? She touched a rock to worse effect. Parker inhaled quietly, glancing around his living room, down at the old wooden floors, at the antique table that peeked out from the doorway to the dining room that came with the house. “Here’s fine.” He suggested. “And apologies; I wasn’t exactly anticipating on… needing to do this. I don’t think a surgical tube will be… as sufficient.” He motioned to the floor absently as he removed the narrow hose from the body of the vacuum to make it easier to attempt an insertion. “My bathroom isn’t large enough for this.” A pause. “And I’m not too worried about–” Parker cut the sentence short, popping his neck as he caught himself before saying that he wasn’t too worried about the blood. “I’m not too worried about the floor.” He rectified awkwardly.

—

Mackenzie watched Parker closely. She could see the gears turning in his brain, and she was curious as to what he might be thinking? What his ultimate plan was. She had also caught his eyes shift to something, but she couldn’t really tell what it was, so instead of questioning it, she let it go. Instead, she let the focus remain on the matter at hand…the goo residing in her body and what he wanted to do about it. And when he finally picked a spot, she obliged without questioning it; listening as she eyed the perfect spot.

Getting down on the floor, Mackenzie was just about to lay down, when she thought about something else. The floor was cold and as much as she didn’t want to be that person, she was going to be that person. Lifting her phone back up, she quickly typed. The floor is fine. Whatever. But can I at least have a blanket or pillow or something to put my head on? She showed him the phone and looked at him with a bit of a pleading look. She wasn’t sure how any of this was going to go, but if she was going to let him stick a vacuum hose down her throat, she at least wanted to be as comfortable as possible while he did it. Besides, she didn’t think it was too much to ask, considering on the inside, she was screaming bloody murder at the entire idea. Mackenzie had never been fond of doctors, unless they were on tv or her co-stars.

—

He read the request and caught the look on her face, presuming it to be one of… asking. Pleading. Unsure if she knew that he couldn’t be manipulated with nonverbal cues but also unwilling to make a comment about how she likely couldn’t feel anything anyway because she was dead, Parker set the vacuum down and wordlessly went into the spare room that Rhett had been staying in, grabbing both the pillow and comforter that was draped on the mattress. This was a waste of time. ‘What clued you in on that?’ Walker asked as the Warden motioned for Mack to scoot out of the way so he could arrange the blanket and pillow until he had formed a small pallet for her. “Anything else?” He had asked before pausing and glancing up in brief contemplation. “This isn’t going to… do anything, will it?” Parker found himself asking aloud. “As in, this procedure won’t make you lose your mind?” He felt as though it were just as valid a query as her request for something comfortable to lay on and he was past the point of dancing around terminology.

—

Watching him leave the room, Mackenzie let out a huge sigh of relief. It was a brief moment to catch her unneeded breath, but this whole situation was insane. Yet, if she wanted to be able to talk and not squeak or grunt or groan (those zombies were soooo last season), she was going to have to let Parker do this. And at least she trusted him. Surely, he had her best interest at heart right? Right?! I mean he was going to get her a pillow. That had to be out of good faith and concern when he could have easily said no. He wasn’t afraid to tell her things she didn’t want to hear, but needed to hear, so this had to be a good first step.

Looking up to see him back with the pillow and a blanket, she did as he wished and moved over. When all was said and done, she moved back to the pallet and got as comfy as she could. At his first question, Mackenzie shook her head no, as content as she could be with what she had. However, she paused on his next inquiry, before shrugging her shoulders slowly with the truth that she didn’t know if this would make her zomb out or not. She hoped it didn’t for his sake, but she couldn’t help but wonder what a brain that brilliant might have tasted like.

—

They progressed, but even as Parker stood there holding the vacuum cleaner and Mackenzie lowered herself onto the makeshift pallet, something was tugging on him. It was a small, unfamiliar feeling, but one that unsettled him nonetheless. ‘That happens every time you feel something.’ The Warden gave a small shake of his head, as though to loosen whatever that feeling was but it persisted. 

She was dead. Undead. Her nerve endings were numbed at best. She ate raw flesh and brains so her gag reflex was nonexistent. And yet, none of that seemed to assuage some imperceptible part of him. Parker approached the zombie who offered only a shrug in response to his question, almost blase about that as though it wasn’t something to consider. But then, why would she? The ex-actress was clearly under some impression, even now, that she wasn’t responsible for her actions… did she actually care if something were to happen and she’d attack him? Would she blame whatever thing that rested on what was left of her functioning brain, keeping her alive in a stasis? 

The thing inside him flowered from whatever it was to a latent irritation at the idea. She came to him for help, even after their conversations, disagreements, and her moody attitude when Parker treated her like… well, gentler than his own father treated him. ‘Yeah because if I did, you would’ve ended up like her.’ His father scoffed. ‘I taught you responsibility.’ “Do I need to restrain you?” He asked after a pause, still standing but with a new tension in his body, if such a thing were possible given that he always moved with a sort of contradictory stiff grace; always light on his feet, purposeful in his movements yet wound up, waiting for the hook to be released in a tight, controlled action.

—

Mackenzie could see the apprehension in his face. Feel the hesitation of the entire idea. And to say she wasn’t too thrilled either would be an understatement. She was about to let someone she had only talked to online stick a vacuum cleaner hose down her throat to try and suck out probably the only remainder of goo left in Wicked’s Rest. And the more she laid there and thought about it, the more absurd it started to sound. When had her life taken such a drastic change that she needed to have under the table surgery by someone who clearly wasn’t a medical professional. It was his question that seemed to cement her into this still somewhat new reality.

Pulling up her phone to her face, Mackenzie quickly typed in a response and turned the phone towards him, I don’t know. I’ve never had someone try to vacuum a foreign substance out of my body before. What do you think? She didn’t want to put Parker in danger. That’s not why she had decided to come to him. She just wanted to be able to talk again. Turning the phone back around, she quickly thumbed out another reply, Do you have any other suggestions? Maybe there would be something he would feel more comfortable with. But she didn’t know. It’s not like much could hurt her right? And it usually took a lot for her to lose complete control.

—

He read her responses, their unspoken anxieties seeming to be communicated well enough between them and with a quiet exhale, he set the vacuum down. “I think… it might be easier for me to attempt a tracheostomy first.” As Parker spoke, he pointed to his neck, the spot just above where his clavicles joined in the middle. “If you’re having trouble speaking, it might be that you have some goo lodged in your windpipe… or maybe your trachea.” He explained. “And if I can’t find any there to extract, then… I’ll consult my medical textbooks and see how it would be best to search your bronchial tubes.” There was a pause. Or rather, another pause, considering it often took him longer than necessary to spit out all the thoughts he had at once in a concise way. “Tracheostomies may have complications for the living but… since you don’t breathe, the risks are lower.” Parker tilted his head slightly. “Would… that be acceptable to you?” He didn’t want to feel like he had to restrain her; irritated as the whole predicament felt, there was still that small part of him that didn’t want to cause her discomfort or pain, if she could feel it.

—

Mackenzie took in heavy, wheezing breath and let it out slowly; the air catching through the goo pieces causing an eerie sound to leave her mouth. So he was going to cut into her. She had been on medical shows, she somewhat knew how all of this worked thanks to the medical consultants that hung around on set. Closing her eyes, she thought long and hard before typing back a response to him, Do what you have to do, and if things go south…run, Parker. I don’t want to hurt you. She couldn’t make any guarantees, but she knew she wanted him to be safe.

Putting her phone back in her pocket, signaled that she was ready. She wanted to get this over with. Though they had had some pretty lengthy and in-depth conversations online, Mackenzie had oddly felt a strong trust towards him. He didn’t seem like he wanted to hurt her anymore than what she could actually feel. Or that he was some psycho killer (Qu'est-ce que c'est?). But she knew that whatever was about to be done wasn’t going to be pleasant. However, if it actually worked, and she could talk again, that’s all that mattered, right?

—

It had to have been preferable to forcing a vacuum cleaner hose down her esophagus. It had to be, that was what Parker was banking on as she affirmed his decision, though he could feel her apprehension over the text. Part of him felt like he should’ve dignified it with a verbal response of his own but sometimes, in his experience, words couldn’t convey the feelings behind them. Parker wasn’t emotional. He was so used to not affording himself to be that he was convinced that the only time he could was when he was being affected by something outside his carefully-curated control. But even then, as he gave a silent, but understanding nod to Mack, indicating that they’d cross that bridge if they came to it, there was… emotion behind it. Nevertheless, she had put her phone away, telling Parker that whatever was going to be done was going to be done soon and he didn’t have to leave the room to procure a scalpel from… where, no one but him truly knew. With one final exhale, he closed the space between them and he knelt to a familiar crouch. Two fingers gently and carefully pressed against the spot on her neck where he had motioned to his before, and without further ado, he took the scalpel and started to create an incision. It was immediately strange. Parker cut into the flesh, but it wasn’t like anything he’d dissected before - which was really just an indicator that he didn’t harvest from the dead, and even then, fae were decidedly different from human anatomy. The incision was small and concise, though he felt his gaze get unfocused as he seemed to acknowledge each blood vessel tucked safely in her dermis. Without even realizing what he was doing, he cut wider before using the scalpel to push open one side of the opening and using two fingers to pull the other side, turning the minor laceration into a hole the size of a walnut… and getting bigger as his pupils grew at the sight of her blood just… sitting there. In their veins. Waiting for him. 

— 

As Mackenzie watched Parker grab the tools he needed, she couldn’t help but close her eyes. She didn’t want to watch what came next. It was too much to handle. She had never been one for shots, but here she was presently letting someone cut into her, and when she felt the blade dig into her skin, she winced slightly at the pressure – her eyes still closed.

Trying to occupy herself, Mackenzie started running lines in her head that she could remember from some of her favorite projects. It was a nice little challenge for both her decaying brain and to get her mind off of the idea of someone cutting into her. But curiosity did get the better of her and with one eye open, she watched his fingers come down. It was weird. The sounds she was currently hearing mixed with the pressure and flashes of pain of him tugging and pulling. It had been too late to back out now, and instead, shut her eyes back tightly. But when there wasn’t any further movement, Mackenzie reluctantly opened her eyes back up to see Parker’s eyes and the look that was on his face; a look of hunger.

Furrowing her brow, Mackenzie latched onto Parker’s sleeve and gave it a tug trying to get his attention, since she still didn’t have any means of speaking with him. If something was wrong, she wanted to know. She hadn’t quite felt like she was starting to lose herself, but considering there was still stagnant blood that barely moved through her veins, she knew she’d start fading faster than either of them wanted if he didn’t get to it anytime soon.

—

The tool was dropped carelessly as it clattered to the floor and skittered across the wood. Parker couldn’t have paid it any less mind, the sound distant and muted as it crashed against his useless ear. His blue eyes, pupils dilated as though he’d been thrust into the dark, stared at the hole he’d made in her chest. A hand on his sleeve. Acknowledged, ignored. He wondered if the hole was large enough.

Without any grace, without any warning or permission or further critical thoughts that were absent from the Warden’s mind, he grasped a handful of the cloth material that made up her shirt, effortlessly lifted her close to him and he made up the distance by leaning forward and biting her neck. Using the hole he’d made as a sort of latch point for one of his canines, he could feel her room-temperature blood slowly filling his mouth, not nearly quickly enough for him and Parker sucked in his breath, willing it from her veins. It tasted vile, immediately churning his stomach and evoking feelings of nausea as he struggled to get the first ounces of it down his esophagus. There was something small in the back of his mind as he struggled to withdraw the still blood from her veins, something that reprimanded and struck at him, telling him to stop but it was ignored in favor of the lasting effects of the bloodclinger that had been removed from his back. 

— 

Mackenzie could only watch silently as Parker did the unthinkable. With any regard for her going out the window, the young zombie started to try and squirm free of his grasp, but it was the way he sank his teeth into her neck and used the opening to begin to drain her of the fermented blood that lingered in her veins that left her helpless. At least in the moment. But the more he drank, the weaker Mackenzie could feel herself getting, and a weakening zombie would eventually mean a hungry and more powerful zombie.

Trying to take in air to speak was a struggle. She had just wanted him to stop for his own good out of the fear that he would be her next meal. She cared for Parker, even loved him like a dad, but the monster inside of her wouldn’t hesitate to wrap her fingers around his neck and beat his head into the hard floor below, if it meant survival. And the more he drank, the more Mackenzie started to lose herself, so much so that she finally managed to gather up enough strength to give him a firm shove forward knowing that whatever meat between his teeth was going with him, but at least he’d be off of her. And at least she’d still have enough of her mind intact to flee if need be.

— 

Stilled blood, inert and thick with disuse, deprived of oxygen, nutrients, seeped down Parker’s throat, pushed by musculature that recoiled with inherent disgust. Dilated pupils darted to the zombie’s face briefly as though searching for Mack’s eyes, but nothing was recognized, not at first anyway. It was insufficient, his mind and pulsing bite near his spine was telling him. It was too slow. Dead. Parker felt her struggling under his bite and his strong hands pressed just a little firmer, almost in a nonverbal gesture for her to hold still long enough for his crimson-dipped mind to fill itself with enough blood to power the machine. She obviously didn’t though, and with each bilious ounce that slithered down his throat unlocked just a little bit of critical thinking. As mentioned before though, it wasn’t quick enough. Fortunately (or perhaps unfortunately), she had managed to retaliate sufficiently enough and he was forcefully pushed away from her, pulling off a portion of her skin that was caught in his teeth. The burst of strength was unexpected enough that Parker was knocked back against the counter that wasn’t too far from them with a loud ‘thud’. With a shark-eyed glare, he spat out the gobbet of flesh he’d torn from her and his reaction time was almost faster than whatever had been jostled from the counter and knocked over, splashing the floor between them in a spray of thick red liquid. Promptly, the Warden’s glance flew to the counter where the liquid now poured from something, a container. It didn’t matter. Not wasting a second longer, Parker got up so fast he hit his head on the corner of the counter but he couldn’t have cared less as a four-fingered hand, fingertips sticky with dull brown blood, snatched the container up and threw his head back to drink the much fresher liquid. For a moment, nothing else existed but him and the… bottle. It was a bottle, filled with blood that he had… placed on the counter in case this… happened. Each thought, each moment of cognizance was returning to him with each nauseating gulp. And each one making him more and more aware with an increasing dread that he had– Parker dropped the bottle with a shaking hand, blinking erratically as he was brought back to the present, to the churning sensation in his stomach that made him want to double over with discomfort, the feeling of gunk on his fingers causing his breath to catch in his throat. But most importantly, he was brought back to the young woman, someone he considered a friend and that he had completely and unintentionally bit and sucked the blood from. 

—

Mackenzie could feel herself slipping further and further away. Luckily, the shove had sent the parasite of a man backwards releasing her from his grip, but with it went a chunk of flesh from her throat, only leaving a dull ache from the open wound and missing flesh. It would heal, but it would take a fresh meal of brains to do so. But with each passing minute, Mackenzie knew that if she didn’t get home and get to her supply, some unlucky stranger wouldn’t be going home to their family.

She had been absolutely shocked by Parker’s actions, so much so that instead of retaliating, she wanted nothing more than to flee. She would dig the gunk out of her throat and lungs herself, if she had to. She had a Shop Vac at home. She could do it. Go back to the original plan. But until then, she pushed herself up off the floor gasping in air through the open wound leaving an eerie hiss of air with each struggling breath as her eyes started to become milky.

And without second thought, Mackenzie fumbled for her car keys, before glaring at Parker one last time, watching as he guzzled the blood that was dripping from the counter – disgusted by everything. She would deal with all of this later.

Stumbling out to her car with her hand clasped firmly over the large gaping hole in her neck, she quickly climbed into the Mini Cooper. Whether or not driving had been a good idea, Mackenzie knew fleeing on foot wouldn’t get her to where she needed to be fast enough. And like a bat out of hell, she pressed down on the gas and peeled out of the driveway as fast as she could headed back to Harborside and her refrigerator full of brains.

—

Tachypsychia. A word Parker didn’t know and wouldn’t have been able to understand if it had been spoken aloud in his presence without context. When adrenaline pulsed through your system, lending itself to a perception of time slowing down. When the Warden and the zombie exchanged glances, her eyes glazing over juxtaposed against his own pupils that shrank back into tiny pinpricks, it lasted an eternity. And yet, it simultaneously lasted so briefly that even before he could react appropriately, his emotions taking far too long to process what he was feeling, she had grabbed her keys and was fleeing through the front door. “Mackenzie–” One of Parker’s hands reached out to her as though he could telepathically stop her from leaving but of course he couldn’t, and he didn’t understand why he wanted her to stay. The Warden rather clumsily scrambled to his feet in an attempt to pursue her, wanting… to explain himself. Wanting to… 

‘You don’t know what you want, boy.’ 

Unusually for him, he was too slow this time. He heard the faint sound of a car door slamming and his attempt to catch up to her was abandoned. Parker stood in his living room, pressing a bloodslicked hand to his stomach as his insides turned themselves over but it wasn’t just the nausea from ingesting the blood. Managing to close the front door after her clumsily, he then staggered to the bathroom where he painted his porcelain bathtub a ruddy red color as he retched into it. The blood from the bottle, the blood from the zombie… the chunk of flesh in his living room. Her flesh. 

His eyes watered but… somehow, a small part of him knew that it wasn’t only because of his failure to keep the fluid down.

[uncannysam]

PARTIES: Parker, @uncannysam, ft. Scout TIMING: Early January SUMMARY: Sam chases Scout into the woods only to find him barking at the ugliest dog she's ever seen, and soon she's accompanied by Parker, and the two set out on a mission to get the ugly dog to safety. WARNINGS: Spider Mention tw

Scout’s barks echoed through the house as he stood at attention at the backdoor wanting to go out. And though Sam had just let him do his business when they had first arrived at her parents’ house not thirty minutes ago, she knew if she were going to get him to behave, taking another trip outside was in order. “Sorry, Uncle. Sorry, Auntie. Kwanorónhkhwa! See you soon!” Waving at her family through video chat one last time, Sam made her way into the kitchen. “Scout, what is it? You just went out.” Shaking her head, she opened the door, and before she could even get outside, she watched as the dog took off running out towards the woods behind her parents’ house, “SCOUT!”

Taking off after him, Sam ran as fast as she could, already feeling herself tiring out, “Shit…I need…to exercise…more often!” But she knew if she stopped, she’d probably lose him. However, her feet just couldn’t go at the intended pace any longer, and with a heavy release of air, Sam found herself walking, occasionally breaking into a sprint, as she continued to look for her dog, “Scout, I swear, if you’re rolling in something dead…” The woods were thick, but luckily for her, finding a bright orange and tan dog in the snow would be easy; at least that’s what she hoped.

Walking a little further, Sam scanned the snowy, brush covered area before laying eyes on her dog, who was pawing at something, “Scout! I don’t say this often, but I saw it out of love and concern, bad dog!” She had felt bad saying it and would make it up to him later with kisses and ear scratches, but right now she was out of breath and frustrated, “What are you digging at…” As she inched closer, the twenty-eight year old found herself cocking her head to the side, until she laid eyes on that of something that looked like an overgrown, naked and heavily wrinkled dog with tears in its eyes. It was locking sight with the creature that made Sam feel an overwhelming sense of sadness, feeling tears of her own beginning to well up in her eyes.

—

Where had he lost it? How had he lost it? It wasn’t as though the trees had particularly dense foliage on them, at least not the deciduous ones. Which… well okay, most of the forest consisted of coniferous and evergreen trees, but that didn’t mean that it was any excuse for Parker to now be turning on the spot, head pointed upwards, pupils shrinking to tiny black dots as they absorbed the light from the sun. Just moments before, he had eyes on his target, a lutin; whether it was the lutin that caused the incident in the Common wasn’t able to be confirmed, but he saw one all the same and strangely for him, he had no desire to capture it, add it to his collection - this was an extermination. He exhaled roughly through his mouth, his breath visible as he now stood there presumably looking foolish in the snow. Irritation tugged at his brow, frustrated that he had lost his target– Then his gaze snapped down when he heard movement, just in time to see someone run past him. Well… not run insomuch as jogging, out of breath and clearly chasing something that had come through much quicker than they did. Parker’s gaze followed the individual until they left his view, and for a moment he considered letting it go. However, the thought didn’t sit entirely right with him; it was only one other individual that he could tell, but lutins were advantageous. With a sigh after resting his hands on his belt in brief indecision, Parker relented and trailed after the stranger, who seemed to be talking to someone– oh. Whoever it was appeared to be female, though that was to be determined and of course they were accompanied by a dog. And, even more concerningly, the dog was preoccupied with something in the brush. He didn’t deliberate any longer, but took a few rather hesitant steps towards the duo. “If whatever you two are observing looks to be like a fairy, I recommend leaving it.” He said, his voice carrying well in the rather still, chilly air. “I’ll take care of it.”

—

Sam hadn’t expected to see anyone else out in the brush with her and Scout, so to say the stranger’s voice didn’t startle her when he came up from behind and spoke, was an understatement, especially since she had been entranced by the sadness of this large, ugly dog that Scout continued to bark at, “Scout!” No matter how many times she said his name though, he wouldn’t listen, which made her feel worse for the creature peering back at them through heavy folds of skin.

Quickly running an arm across her face, Sam spun on her heels to face the man who had seemingly come out of nowhere, “Hey, um, what were you saying? Something about a fairy? Because I don’t think that’s what my dog is currently barking at.” More mentions of the Jogah and from someone she had never met before. Was the creature that this stranger was referencing the same as what Cass had been? Or was it, in fact, much smaller? She wanted to question him and find out more, but instead, she kept her mouth shut. There had been more pressing matters at hand.

“I have no idea what this thing is, or if it’s just a really ugly dog with some weird skin thing going on, but I want to help it, especially because” She glared at the barking animal, “Scout won’t leave it alone” before looking back up at the man towering over her. “I think it’s harmless, but I’d advise not looking into its eyes.”

— 

The dog was barking. How had Parker not noticed the dog was barking? Maybe he was so focused on his goal of catching the lutin that he failed to notice. Maybe he was so desensitized by how loud and obnoxious dogs barking were that he simply blocked it out. In any case, he heard it now, and it wasn’t helping calm the latent well of irritation that always seemed to churn in his stomach when he was in an unpreferable scenario, most of which included dogs. It was fine. He was a professional, and from what Parker could gather from the young woman’s uncertain response, it seemed unlikely that the thing her dog (evidently named “Scout”) was interested in was the lutin he was looking for. No, instead, she suggested that it was a second dog with a skin condition. With too many questions that overrode his desire to abandon the two of them with whatever was in the brush, the Warden sighed and pulled out one of his white embroidered handkerchiefs. ‘Not too professional if you forgot to pick up some more antihistamines,’ Walker laughed in his mind. Slowly, treading lightly, he approached the noisy animal with a furrowed brow and blue eyes that narrowed as they were soon… affronted, Parker decided, by something that was indeed reminiscent of a hairless dog with a skin condition. The creature’s appearance immediately evoked thoughts of ribbons of frosting layering themselves over each other as it was squirted from a tube in a rhythmic fashion. One of his brows quirked as his eyes danced over the rest of the creature. Folds upon folds of flesh enveloped whatever skeletal structure was collapsing under its perceived weight, if there was a skeleton at all under the mottled, blemished skin. It was rather large, though not unreasonably so, and as his gaze caught its face… was it crying? Or was it closer to lacrimation as a defense mechanism? What was it? “Well, you were correct; it’s not a fairy.” He replied, muffled through the material as he kept his gaze on the pitiful creature.

—

Sam couldn’t help but notice the handkerchief that was pulled out. And when he approached where Scout and the odd wrinkly animal stood, she caught on. He must have been allergic to dogs, and here Scout was, in all his furry glory, bouncing up and down with each bark sending invisible dander into the air. But Sam knew that she couldn’t handle this naked, and probably freezing, creature alone, so dragging Scout back to the house and into the warmth and comfort of her parents’ home was the only option she could think of, “Hey, if you promise not to leave, I’ll take Scout back to my parents’ house. I just can’t handle this thing alone, and the help to get it back to wherever it belongs and out of the cold would very much be appreciated.”

She looked from the pitiful, shivering thing and back up to the man hoping he would agree. It was too much to handle, and she didn’t exactly want to touch it. At least not barehanded. Plus, it may have looked innocent right now, but that didn’t mean it couldn’t latch out and take off a few fingers or a chunk out of her barking dog, if it got aggravated enough. Even moreso, Scout really didn’t need to be around it for the fear of what kind of illnesses or parasites it could be carrying. And the idea of losing him so soon after Zach just wasn’t sitting well.

Cautiously moving forward, Sam came up behind Scout and latched onto his collar, “Okay, Boy, I’m taking you back home, so I can come back and help this nice man get…whatever this is…to a safe place.” It took all her strength, but she managed to get Scout to awkwardly walk alongside her back in the direction she had come from, “I promise I’ll be back. Please, don’t leave!”

—

He was still observing the… whatever it was when the stranger spoke up and Parker removed his eyes (which he knew were starting to to color and glisten with irritation) from the creature to look up at her. Well, if there was anything to discern about the stranger, it was that she didn’t seem to be familiar with the weight of the word ‘promise’, as she wanted him to stay put while she (thankfully, not that he’d use that word either) offered to remove the dog from the area. ‘You’re so needy.’

Well… she wanted Parker to stay to help take care of the wrinkly thing anyway, so there was a mutually-beneficial exchange to be found somewhere in there. Wordlessly at first, he stood back up from the crouch he had found himself in to study the mass in the brush. Her parents’ house must’ve been close by if returning the dog wasn’t considered an inconvenience, and he wondered how many times he’d wandered near it, unaware that it was even there. She grasped the dog by the collar, seeming to put her weight into pulling the animal away from the creature and with a promise that she’d be back, he watched her and replied with a firm “Okay. I’ll be here.” Trusting that she had it under control - it was her dog, after all - Parker turned back to regard the stubby-legged wrinkly… creature. It looked back up at him with doleful eyes that sparkled with tears and if he didn’t know any better, he’d have thought it started to moan softly, a plaintive thing not unlike an unhappy child who didn’t know why they were crying. His brow twinged and he looked away from it, lowering the handkerchief to put it back into its assigned pocket. He could still feel its eyes on him though and he… looked down at it again, crossing his arms. He’d have been lying if he denied his curiosity for what the thing was, but he knew better than to touch unfamiliar creatures without someone else around to potentially call for help.

—

The walk took longer than she had expected with Scout trying to get out of her grip and make his way back to the ugly dog, but Sam was determined. And after what felt like forever, the 5’2” woman had somehow managed to get her dog back to her parents house and inside the door, before Scout could break free. But while she was there, Sam had decided to grab some supplies. A couple of bottles of water, some dog treats, and two Little Debbie Nutty Buddy Bars (one for her new friend in case he wanted one), “I’ll be back later. Don’t let Scout out, unless he’s on a leash!” She yelled through the house, before running back out the door.

Trudging back through the snow following the same tracks she had made previously, Sam finally reached the man who, thankfully, was still waiting, “I’m sorry it took so long. I got a few things too. Some dog treats, three bottles of water, and some Little Debbies, but they do have peanut butter in them, if you have a peanut allergy.” She was oddly specific, but at the same rate, she didn’t want this stranger swelling up to the point of suffocation if he was allergic.

“Has it stopped crying yet?” Sam walked over towards the Squonk and looked down at it, its eyes once again drawing her in. Feeling herself well up with emotion, Sam quickly squeezed her eyes shut to break the hold, before turning around and looking away. “Maybe we could lure out with a dog treat?” She looked to the man to see what he thought, “By the way, I’m Sam. Thanks again for wanting to help.”

—

The Warden decided to stare down at the weeping creature until the girl returned, ideally without her dog. Fortunately, she did so and it was only when he heard her apology that he, with his arms still crossed, slowly turned his head to regard her once more and resisting the urge to frown in indignance when she warned him that whatever a “Little Debbie” snack was had peanut butter in it. With a quiet exhale, Parker took what appeared to be a chocolate-covered wafer from the stranger. Did he have a sweet tooth? No. Did he particularly like chocolate? No. Was he about to eat it anyway because he already felt awkward enough that she must’ve caught on to the fact that he was dog-intolerant and he refused to give her the impression that he couldn’t handle peanut butter either? Yes. So he carefully unwrapped the treat and looked at the wrinkled, hairless creature once more. “It has not.” He replied dryly, casting a quick, almost confused glance at the snack before taking an uncertain bite out of it. Not Parker’s thing. He crunched on it regardless, holding his other hand out to take a treat from the newly-acquainted Sam. “...Parker.” He ultimately offered his first name, deciding that whoever this was probably hadn’t heard his name circulating in any groups. When she handed him one of the treats, he slowly crouched in front of the sniveling thing again and held the biscuit out. “If it bites me, don’t panic. I have alcohol wipes and bandages available.” A pause. “Also we should assign a nickname to this creature.” Another pause. “For brevity.” 

—

Watching as the man took the snack from her, Sam had wondered if he had tried them before. Little Debbies had been a staple in her household, and if she had really wanted to, she could have gone on about which ones were the best and which weren’t. A popular debate within her family. But that was a conversation for another time, “I take it you haven’t tried these before?” She smiled and continued to watch him, refusing to eye the wrinkled creature that continually made her want to cry. She didn’t need to cry. She had done that enough already within the past several months.

“It’s okay, if it’s not your thing. You don’t have to eat it. Maybe he’ll like it.” She motioned in the direction of the squonk as she watched the man take the treat from her hand, “It’s nice to officially meet you, Parker.” Parker. Parker. Parker. Sam repeated his name in her mind to get a good hold of it. It was an odd encounter between the three of them, and not how Sam had seen her day going, but it had gotten her out of the ordinary day-to-day of her life, which mostly included comic books and customers.

“I mean I hope it doesn’t bite you. Or me.” Sam finally looked back over to the animal seeing it look at Parker and somewhat coming out to sniff the treat in his hand, “Maybe…Wrinkles? I know it’s not the most scientific sounding name, but it’s got a nice ring to it.” The creature had seemed harmless enough so far, and it almost appeared that some of the crying had stopped, “Where do you think it came from?”

—

If there was something Parker eternally seemed to feel, even under the fluctuations of discomfort, dried blood and dirt caked on his skin, the unbearable sensation of dry skin lightly brushing against itself, it was eyes on him. And Sam, asking him if he’d ever tried whatever this snack was as he took awkward bites from it, was gazing at him intently. At first, he wondered if it was because of his strange behavior. ‘Or maybe it’s because she can’t stand to look at this… whatever the hell it is.’ Would Walker or his wife know what it was? Wordlessly, in response to her offer that maybe the creature would’ve wanted the sweet snack more than him, Parker unwrapped the rest of the first bar and offered it to the sniveling thing. Surprisingly, it seemed to express interest in it, even seeming to stop its unashamed weeping somewhat to sniff at the food. The Warden tilted his head slightly, his blue-eyed gaze dancing over the folded details of the thing’s skin. “Wrinkles will suffice.” He replied as the beast timidly took the snack from his open palm. “And I doubt he’ll bite. I don’t believe he has the aggression for it.” When she asked where it came from, he only shook his head faintly. “I’m not sure.” He admitted. Setting the other Little Debbie onto the ground carefully, Parker slowly moved his other hand until it was placed on Wrinkles’ hide, lightly brushing against it with a couple of fingers. “It has no hair.” He observed. “And it’s very tough. Almost like… leather.” 

—

Sam watched Parker interacting with Wrinkles. He was gentle, and at her suggestion, she wasn’t too surprised when it had reacted more to the piece of Nutty Buddy in the man’s hand than the dog treat. Even this odd looking dog couldn’t resist the sweet chocolatey and peanut butter goodness of a Little Debbie. And while the thought hit her about chocolate and what it could do to dogs, surely a tiny bit wouldn’t hurt this thing.

“You hear that, Wrinkles? You officially have a name.” Sam couldn’t help, but smile. The more she laid eyes on it, the cuter it had become in an odd and ugly sort of way. Its gentleness had put her mind at ease, especially for Parker who was the one trying to interact with it, “I think you’re right. It just looks scared and lost honestly.” Maybe it was a dog with a rare skin condition or maybe it was some sort of wild animal that someone had tried to keep illegally as a pet. Whatever the case, Sam didn’t like the idea of it being out in the cold and alone, especially now that it wasn’t crying anymore and evoking heartbreak in her.

Stepping closer, but with her own amount of caution, Sam came around from the other side and knelt down, “You know that’s the one thing I didn’t bring for it…a blanket. Do you think it’s cold?” She knew the proper etiquette when approaching a dog, and slowly, she stuck her hand out so it could get a sniff, before she ever made any attempt at touching it, but she had also watched as it lowered it’s head to sniff out the rest of the Nutty Buddy on the ground, before it leaned in and picked it up in its mouth, causing Sam to slowly draw back her hand to give it space and not overwhelm it while Parker was still rubbing its skin.

—

A few more moments of gentle half-petting, half-tactile processing of Wrinkles’ skin later saw it with his half-eaten candy bar in its mouth and a few more questions from the two presumably humans. Knuckling his septum absently, Parker slightly furrowed brow quirked one of his eyebrows upwards sharply in a twitch as he himself got to his feet from his crouched position once more. What was it made of? What was its diet? How did it survive? How much sentience did it have, and what was the cause of the lacrimation? Was it a defense mechanism? It didn’t bite the dog in self-defense, nor did it display any aggression towards either Parker or Sam. 

A steely stare was cast in Sam’s direction at the inquiry. “It didn’t feel particularly chilled,” Parker explained, placing his hands on his thick utility belt once again in their comfortable positions. “But I also don’t think he belongs here.” A pause. “A blanket might… do it some good, but maybe… we can move it somewhere more suitable for it.” Another pause. “Any ideas?” He asked, trying to mask how unequipped he was to deal with a dog-adjacent creature, especially one as piteous, wrinkly and gelatinous as Wrinkles.

—

Sam found her way back upright, but continued to let her eyes linger on Wrinkles. Knowing it wasn’t exactly freezing had been a relief considering how cold and snow it had been, and this creature wasn’t particularly hairy, but Sam could definitely get a blanket or some bedding for it. They just had to find a safe place for it first. And as she thought for a moment, she was just about to ask Parker if he knew of anywhere, before he had taken the words right out of her mouth, “I can definitely find some blankets for him, but I think maybe we should get him moved first?”

Taking her eyes off the animal, she looked around, until she remembered a place, “There’s a cave not too far from here. I’m pretty sure it’s abandoned, and it might be safer than just being out in the snow. There’s a small stream that runs through which would give him access to water. I think we just have to get him to follow us first. Maybe entice him with more Nutty Buddies. I would have to run back home though.” Sam looked back to Parker to see what he thought about the idea.

—

Her suggestions ran through his head as he observed the creature. A cave not too far, abandoned with the possible exception of Cass knowing where it was… surely she wouldn’t mind some cohabitation with Wrinkles, though. It wasn’t as though the weeping monster was particularly obstructive or invasive. With water nearby and a lingering question as to what his diet actually was… It couldn’t actually have been candy, could it have? “Is your house on the way to the cave?” Parker held the second bar in his two-pack aloft absently. “Save you the effort of running back and forth.”

—

Sam looked back down to Wrinkles smiling softly. Until Parker’s question caught her attention, “My parent’s house is back the way I went earlier, but no, it’s not. We need to go this way.” She pointed in the opposite direction. “As for me, I live in a loft downtown. I was just visiting with my family for the day. But I grew up around here, so I’ve done quite a bit of exploring and deer hunting.” She glanced down at the remainder of the snack she had brought and remembered she had also had another one in her coat pocket, which she promptly pulled out, “If you think we can lure Wrinkles with what we have, then I say we go for it. Especially, since we’ll start losing daylight soon.”

—

“Oh.” Parker replied simply as Sam pointed in the direction they needed to go. “Apologies, I thought you lived around here.” Duh, of course he thought that going by what he had suggested. He noticed that she had pulled out a third package and glanced between the items and Wrinkles. “There’s nothing to do but find out, I suppose.” Without waiting for another moment of deliberation, he tore a chunk of his bar off and knelt to gently offer it to the creature. “If you want more of this, you’ll follow us… okay?” He asked Wrinkles now, looking into its glistening eyes with his own. “...Good.” ‘Make it obvious that you don’t talk to mammals without making it obvious you don’t talk to mammals,’ His brother mocked him. Parker shook his head and straightened back up, taking a couple of steps backwards, in the direction that Sam had pointed. “It’s… strange. I frequent these woods, but I’ve never… run into your parents house.” He mused absently, pausing to see if the creature would follow behind him if he held the candy bar out in obvious view. 

—

“You’re good. And I mean I technically did growing up. My parents had been saving up before we moved here and managed to buy a house with a decent sized yard that just happened to back up to the woods.” Sam watched as Parker broke off a piece of the sweet and held it out to entice Wrinkles. Surely this would do the trick. If it got to be too late, they’d have to come back and try again tomorrow, that is, if Parker was up for it. But the animal with its meaning dangling folds was intrigued, and the bit of drool seeping from its snout had been enough to give her the indication that their plan was going to work.

As she began walking in the direction of the cave, she glanced back over her shoulder to make a mental note of where they had just been, “If you go far enough back the way we came, you’ll run into their backyard. But what about you? Have you lived here long?” Sam focused back on the path in front of them easily recalling the direction of the cave they were headed to

—

The trek was slow - the creature waddled, its folds flapping against itself in a sound that was rather uncomfortable to Parker’s one good ear, but in none too much of a hurry as it kept its sparkling eyes and snubbed nose focused on the candy. At least they were moving now, regardless of how leisurely it was. He hated the snow. And he hadn’t forgotten about his original quarry… the lutin might’ve thought it was getting away with its shenanigans but once this Wrinkles business was taken care of, it was back to the hunt. “I’ve been here for close to four years.” He replied, tearing off another chunk of the candy and tossing it onto the ground in front of the beast. “I’m an exhibitionist for the history museum.” On and off again, granted. “I collect insects.” Parker looked over to Sam. “Yourself?”

— 

The way Wrinkles waddled forward was amusing to Sam. She had never seen anything like it, and she had seen a lot just within the recent months. It was kind of cute, and the longer that spent time with the animal, the more attached she could feel to it. But it was wild, and Sam knew that wild animals had their place in the world and played an important part in the history of Earth. Besides, nothing could ever replace Scout and the bond she had felt with him, especially now that Zach was gone.

“Funny how a town can be so small, and you can still avoid running into the same people.” His job sounded fascinating, “Really? I think the last time I went to the history museum was in the 8th grade on a field trip. I should really go back sometime.” Sam crunched forward in a relaxed pace, “I own a comic book shop in town, Escape Your Fate. It was always a dream of mine, and I finally got to make a reality a couple of years ago. What kind of insects do you collect for the museum?” 

— 

The Warden gave a half-shrug. “Indeed. I spend… most of my time by myself.” Because people worked best in pairs and… he was alone once more, not having heard from Rhett in a couple of weeks. He wondered, every now and then, what he had done to warrant the other hunter deciding not to talk to him anymore. It was inevitable, he supposed. Parker also left off the part where that was a partial truth; he did spend time by himself, but sometimes where was something else with him; a fae, unconscious, having its wings carefully removed to be added to his collection or sold off to an affluent eccentric.

“It’s… cool that you got to open your own shop.” Even though Parker couldn’t think of a single comic he’d read, really only familiar with Batman through a semblance of cultural osmosis (and conversations with Jade), it was impressive that someone so young-looking had started up their own business, regardless of what the business was for. Well… he supposed unless it was something akin to– ‘Don’t go down that rabbit hole.’ Comics were fine. “I’m… I prefer centipedes, but those aren’t… as well-received.” He explained, throwing another quarter to Wrinkles and feeling a chill nipping at the exposed skin on his arms as the sun was slowly getting lower. “Butterflies. Dragonflies. Beetles.” A pause. ‘I… apologize that you had to take your dog back. He seems… friendly.”

—

Family and friends were everything to the young woman. And even though her parents had moved her thousands of miles away from her family in Canada, Sam had made it a point to stay in contact with them regularly. And then there was Zach. For most of her life, Sam had always had him by her side. The two had been inseparable. But it seemed that since his death, grief and depression had caused her to squirrel away more than she ever did. She was grateful to have her customers and Maggie in her life, but it had been hard. However, stumbling across Parker today had meant that there was a possibility of adding someone new in her life, and it was a nice distraction from everything else that had been going on since Zach’s death, “I’ve found myself doing that more so recently, but if you ever need a place to go, even if it’s just for the purpose of having another human being around in silence, you’re more than welcome to come to my shop.”

She continued to move forward as she listened to him speak, “Determination and hardwork. That was how it happened. And support from my family and best friend.” Sam was grateful all her dedication paid off. She still had other goals, but the shop had given her something to focus on – to keep her moving forward, even on her darkest days. “I think it’s the legs. That’s so many legs for one small creature.” While she wasn’t the biggest fan of centipedes, all the other creatures, especially butterflies, she admired. “Tsiktsinón:nawen. It means butterfly. They’re one of my favorite animals. What got you into insects, if you don’t mind me asking?” She looked back to make sure that Wrinkles was still following them, and so far so good, “No, don’t apologize. He probably would have scared Wrinkles, making this task impossible, but yeah, when there’s not something around he wants to sniff and chase, he’s the best boy. Do you have any pets?”

—

Comic book stores didn’t really appeal to Parker but what she said about having another human around in silence did, as he was learning. “Is your shop… specialized like that?” He found himself asking - when he thought of any stores other than possibly a normal bookstore, he thought of music, idle chatter, laughter. None of which were inherently unpleasant noises, but they all carried with them a sense of interaction with others. Or something else. He supposed it wasn’t important, as he shook his head and tossed the last quarter of his candy bar to the mutated dog. 

“It is a lot of legs. Most people don’t… know that centipedes don’t actually… have exactly 100 legs.” Without provocation or initiation, Parker casually started explaining centipedes. “They always have odd pairs and… they range from 15 to… over 190.” A pause. “...Apologies. You didn’t ask.” With a clear of his throat, he balled the wrapper of the chocolate bar into a tight ball which he then stuffed into one of his spare pockets. “No pets. Well… I had a tarantula once. But no… mammals.” He replied, loosely folding his arms over his chest in lieu of them having anything for them to do now that his lure for the wrinkly creature was gone. 

“I was raised… out in the bayous of Louisiana. Pets were… well, no dogs at all. Cats were… discouraged. Rats would’ve gone missing.” Parker was having difficulty talking about this in person, as it turned out. He wasn’t sure why. “I’ve… always been interested in bugs and insects. I learned their names before… learning how to speak.” He glanced down at her now. “Which butterflies do you prefer?” He asked.

—

Sam took a moment before answering. Thinking back on customers and their usual interactions. For the most part it seemed like, unless it was game night, most people kept to themselves. “I wouldn’t say it's specialized, but most people keep to themselves. Unless, it’s game night. Then there’s more talking and socialization. I do have a room near the back for that though. And if it gets to be too much, you’re more than welcome to go back there and hang out, if nobody is using it. I’d say the best time to come in, if you’re able to, is during the week, when most people are at work. Afternoons, evenings, and weekends are the busiest.” She watched the candy go back to the dog as it stopped and began munching on it, before carrying on in a slow waddled pace.

They were getting closer to their destination, but Sam knew it would take a bit more coaxing and without second thought, she took out the fresh pack of Nutty Buddies and opened them up. She would wait a little while before throwing another piece to the animal, “I didn’t know that. And I could not imagine having 190 legs.” Parker was an interesting man. She had enjoyed talking to him and hearing the facts he offered her, “Did said tarantula have a name?” She had never thought of having a spider for a pet. Zach did have a snake named Buttercup. She still didn’t know why he had chosen to name a snake Buttercup, but she had always admired that about her best friend and the way his brain worked.

The bayou. Sam didn’t know much about the South, except for what she had learned in the public school system, which was something she had been so excited to be free from when she graduated from high school nearly a decade ago, “So I’m guessing gators were your pets whether you wanted them to be or not…” It was more an assumption based on what she had heard in passing or seen in movies, and she was curious to know if it was actually true, “I can’t say the same about comic books, but I think bugs and insects are probably a little more fascinating.” She smiled in his direction, breaking off a small piece of the chocolate wafer to give to Wrinkles, seeing that he was slowing down a bit, “We’re almost there.” Sam smiled at the animal before turning back to Parker, “I don’t know a lot about them, but I like Mourning Cloak butterflies. I think Swallowtails are pretty too.”

—

Despite him knowing that he wasn’t giving her a lot to work with, she was receptive and open to starting other venues of conversation. Parker supposed he should’ve been able to observe this about her, given that she not only refused to leave the wrinkled, crying creature to its own devices that chilly winter afternoon, but she was also willing to remove the dog from the Warden’s presence on limited information. Now he just needed to prioritize what all she was asking, what all she was saying. There were several different conversations going on at the moment (well, only three, but that was two more than he was adjusted to.

“It sounds… nice.” He said after a pause, referring to the “vibe” (since he knew that word now) of the comic book store. “Better than having 150 sets of legs, anyway.” He attempted to add the joke to the comment. He wasn’t sure if it worked. ‘Don’t quit your day job, man.’ “She did. Her name was Hortense. …She got… she was lost… to the gators.” Parker spoke slowly, though his tone carried no indicators that the tarantula’s loss meant anything to him. Few things did. Everything could be taken in a moment’s notice, even if he was fond of it. 

They were getting closer, and the sun was getting lower, but Parker didn’t give any indication that it was bothering him. His arms did move from his chest to his pockets, however as he stretched his arms and raised his shoulders for a moment. “I’ve never read a comic book.” He admitted. “I know who Batman is, but… that’s about it.” Icy blue eyes glanced around absently as they walked. He wondered where the lutin was, if it was even still around. He still wondered what Wrinkles was, too. He’d probably text Walker about it when he had a moment. “Nymphalis antiopa is one of the longest-living butterfly species known. They have impressively powerful wing strength. They used to be called ‘white petticoats’. …When you say ‘swallowtail’, do you mean the black and yellow ones?”

—

“It’s kind of like an escape, when I don’t want to think about my personal life.” How many people could claim that of work? Probably more than Sam realized, but in this moment in time, it was an escape, because it meant she didn’t have to focus on anything else, when she was at work, except customers and their needs. She laughed at his joke, thankful for the change in subject, but the laughter soon died when Parker explained the situation about his tarantula, “I’m sorry. I know that must have been hard losing her.” Sam couldn’t imagine losing Scout to gators or anything for that matter. And it made her wonder if Parker ever thought about getting another pet tarantula.

Sam could see the cave just up ahead as the sun was sinking lower in the sky, and without hesitating, she tossed back another piece of the bar continuing to coax Wrinkles into following them. Once the piece was out of her hand, she turned her attention back to Parker, “Really? We’re gonna have to change that. Batman is a great place to start, but you’re missing out on so much, my friend. Superman, Spider-Man, The Justice League, The Avengers.” She was mixing DC and Marvel, but it’s not like it mattered. “So many bug reference superheroes too, besides just Spider-Man.” Her mind was already racing with ideas of who she could introduce him to if he was interested. But the conversation moved onto butterflies, and she couldn’t object to the change, especially since spring was right around the corner, and more would be popping up soon, “That’s exactly the ones I’m talking about. Is that their technical name? Nympha…what did you say?”

—

“Oh, don’t be.” He replied. “It was my own negligence that caused me to lose her.” Parker still carried that blunt tone. ‘You lost track of it, didn’t cha,’ his father said dismissively, able to understand what Parker’s expression indicated. ‘Maybe next time you’ll take better care of it. Don’ worry, you’re smart. You’ll learn from this.’ He did. He always did. “I understand that spiders and dogs aren’t on the same level of acknowledgement.” He recalled all the acquaintances he’d gotten to know in town and how most of them seemed to possess dogs. He still didn’t like them. The Warden mused silently as Sam went into a miniature conversation topic about superheroes, and when she mentioned Spider-Man, Parker perked up slightly. “I’m familiar with… a Spider-Man who’s made of spiders.” He admitted, remembering the conversation he had with Cass regarding superheroes. He wondered if Sam knew the oread, but kept the extra topic to himself, instead glancing back at the wrinkled creature absently for a moment. “Nymphalis antiopa is the Mourning Cloak butterfly. The tiger swallowtail is also known as… papilio glaucus.” He explained. “The eastern tiger swallowtail. Males are… primarily yellow with black stripes. They’re common, but still very beautiful.”

—

“Well, I’m still sorry that happened.” It was sad when you cared about something or someone, and they were just gone. It’s how life worked, but it didn’t make things easier. “Yeah, but spiders are still important. They play a purpose in our world just as much as dogs do.” It didn’t matter what kind of animal it was. To Sam, it still mattered. Just like this thing trailing behind them mattered. Sam wasn’t sure what it was exactly, but it had to have had a purpose. Just like all the creatures her new little skill was opening her up to. Though some of them scared her greatly, it still wasn’t her place to judge…unless it was a vampire…She still struggled with vampires.

As the sun was getting closer to the horizon, Sam knew they needed to speed things up, and just as she was about to reply to Parker about Spider-Man and butterflies, she noticed they had reached the cave. Turning her attention to Wrinkles, she kneeled down, “Okay, Wrinkles, we’re here. I think this is going to be the best place for you, so you’re at least out of the snow. I’m just gonna toss the rest of this at the opening of the cave.” She held up the remainder of the Nutty Buddy, so the animal could see what she was referencing.

Standing back up, she stepped somewhat closer to the cave and unwrapped the remainder of the snack. With a good toss, Sam sent it flying over where it landed just at the mouth of the cave, and before long, she watched as Wrinkles waddled towards where the snack was. The plan had worked. At least that’s what she had thought, until she noticed two smaller wrinkled up dogs coming out of the cave – babies! Wrinkles had babies!

Sam’s face contorted into something soft and an audible “awww” slipped from her mouth, before she turned to Parker, “Maybe Wrinkles is smarter than we thought.” Letting her eyes shift back to the three wrinkled looking dogs, Sam smiled taking in the sight, until she realized they were going to be walking back home in the snow in the dark if they didn’t leave now, “Well Parker, I think we’ve done our good deed for the day.”

—

“...The sentiment is… nice to hear.” Parker wasn’t untruthful - indeed, there were few individuals who placed insects on the same level of respect as mammals, reptiles or even birds. He recalled Hortense’s legs on his arm absently as he held a book in his hands, sitting in the sun-bathed window of the reading room. He remembered the day after he lost her, and he felt… absent, another emotion he wasn’t meant to feel so he didn’t have a word to describe it, nor did he have any facial expression to convey it. There was a period of silence the two had fallen into before the cave was reached; the sun was already dim as the last vestiges of it peeked through the dead trees and evergreens. As they came to a stop, Parker placed his hands on his belt, watching the young woman toss the rest of the bar into the mouth. The Warden was… appreciative that Sam was there - if it had just been Parker with Wrinkles, he couldn’t have been sure how far he would’ve gotten. He may not have even seen or heard the creature at all, given that he was so focused on the lutin. He wouldn’t have seen the creature, or the cave, or the smaller versions of it, crying and whining, spitting images of the full version. 

He couldn’t restrain his surprise, as eyebrows rose when Parker’s sharp blue eyes also spotted the pups as they folded and loped clumsily up to their parent. His mind started raising questions - was it out there on purpose? When was the last time the pups ate? Did they eat? He resisted the urge to ask any of these questions, but shook his head from his blatant staring and he turned to regard Sam. While a smile didn’t cross his face - it never did - his expression shifted. Milder, less intense, with what could’ve been the ghost of a smile tugging at the corner of his thin lips. “...I suppose we did.” It was… strange, having his actions be referred to as “good”. ‘They’ll never appreciate what you do for them, boy,’ his father had said so many times he admittedly lost count. 

‘But the important thing is that you do it.’ 

[kenjicopy]

entrega de welcome

pedido pessoal

miranha !

[daryj]

hate me

feita em: 22.03.2024

obs: qualquer inspiração, credite-me, por favor!

spirit  ✩  port

[chrissymunsonsblog]

Título: Join Me In Death [Parksborn]

Personagens: Peter Parker (Andrew Garfield) [×] Harry Osborn (Dane DeHaan)

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Todos os devidos créditos aos seus donos!

[marcoanton]

[thornstocutyouwith]

Original Post Here, @ofwondersandhares

As the woman has just stood there, quiet. Yet, obviously just over taken by her thoughts, Parker gave a lax look toward the other. An obvious sign he had little patience for what was happening, and it was depleting as time went on. He huffed as the time ticked on, even still. Waiting for her to respond. Though he had to admitted, he wasn't great at lipreading. Which often made most people trying to difficult with him turn him away after a few moments. This had been something that was probably why he didn't like interacting with others. Most everyone didn't sign, and then lip reading itself was hard to learn in one language, and horribly confusing when interacting with none English speakers. Both in sign language, and vocally. That wasn't exactly anyone's fault, but he still disliked all the…everything, about it.

Pulling back a bit, he glances to the side, trying to calm himself down. This happened, she wasn't doing anything wrong. He could entertain it more politely, for the time being. Quirking an eyebrow however as she started to sign back to him, he lifts his head a little, watching her hands. Then pulled back, hissing in snake at her. Clearly somewhat offended by something she said. His fangs baring, lengthening out from his gums. In some irritation that remained, he signs back at her *Don't not tell me I misunderstand!* He almost warned in his movement. Exhaling, he calms down *It was not a conversation FOR you!…What did you hear?* It wasn't really anything all that was important. He was simply blowing off some steam. Mostly it was hisses in snake, and a few words. Parker nodded then, acknowledging her words *That's amazing… * He signed still slightly annoyed. with a half eye roll.

What he didn't like was being eavesdropped on. Which she hadn't explained why, yet. So he still felt like his personal bubble was invaded. Parker quirked an eyebrow as she's telling him to wait a moment, then gesturing for her to go ahead and do what she wanted to do. Crossing his arms under his chest as she stood thinking for a moment before finally starting to sign again, he didn't have any expression on his face as he watched to her plight. Then, he brought his attention away again. He knew about the story of Wonderland. He had watched movies on it, before. But of course, since he couldn't read, and couldn't hear. He only knew so much. But he had help sometimes with such situations, growing up, too. Giving a semi-slow nod, Parker thinks to himself about it. It would certainly make for an extraordinary tale, to go with it.

He shifted in his stance then *Okay.* He signs, almost amused with her problem. Then he continued *You are in Bulgaria, Sofia, to be clear.* He turned, waving a hand out toward the alley they were standing in *No mirror here, exactly-* Parker then signs toward her then, pausing to see what she had to say to this. He really needed to finish up what he was doing here and get the hell away himself. As this wasn't anything but a trip for equipment.

[ricksmales]

manips, Spiderman and Blackcat in my dr

[gossipsnake]

Bugging Each Other || Anita & Parker

TIMING: August 8, 2023 LOCATION: Lyssa’s Peak PARTIES: Anita (@gossipsnake) and Paker (@wonder-in-wings) SUMMARY: Anita invited Parker out to hike and search for insects in the woods. Unbeknownst to her, Parker is under the effects of an abnormality crystal. Anita is her usual self. Things go exactly how you would expect they would, featuring an unexpected guest star.

Anita wasn’t entirely sure why she invited this man to one of her favorite bug spotting locations. None of their online interactions had been remotely positive. They were neutral, at best, and frequently tapered off from neutral to negative at an exponential pace. Yet there she was, the early sunlight of the dawn creating golden shadows that danced across her features as she stood on the edge of a forest trail awaiting this irksome and questionably qualified curator. 

Maybe that was it - she wanted to see Parker in action and figure out just how well he knew his shit. After all, a novice curator without any professional training couldn’t possibly be more knowledgeable about insects than Anita was. And that wasn’t to say that intellect and formal education were corollaries, but Anita had dedicated every aspect of her life to this niche topic - she needed to be better at it than he was. 

Having done as much online stalking as she could, Anita recognized the tall blonde man immediately. He was also the only other person around, which given the time of day was a fairly dead give away as to who he was. “You’re late,” the idea of starting off on the right foot had crossed her mind, but she ignored it. 

—

Day 8. 

The Warden thought the conversations online were shaky but ultimately, Anita could’ve called herself either the garbage queen or even a fae at this point and Parker would’ve taken her up on an offer to go searching for bugs. Granted, this was before the incident with Felix and when he had the idea for how this would go in his mind, he wasn’t anticipating having to compensate for the plunge into abyssal, emotional depth he’d taken. No… that wasn’t correct, even now. It wasn’t a plunge, as though he got to choose to jump into the murky black tar that clung to his every thought, his every waking moment, every feeling on his skin, even some of the looks he gave. It was an edge. Or a pendulum. Fortunately, she had opted out of a graveyard. Unfortunately, Parker wasn’t as well-versed in Lyssa’s Peak. Even more unfortunately was as he arrived at the approximate coordinates she had left for him, trudging to the path from the car he parked a safe distance away on the off-chance something would happen, she decided to make a comment about how he was late. No wonder her roommate had left her, if she was like this all the time, the way she stood there with her arms crossed, her expression naturally glaring and vindictive and with a bite to her tone. He approached her, slowing to a stop and standing a foot taller than her and yet she carried herself with the authority of a woman demanding she speak to his manager. Not a great start and Parker’s dominant hand subconsciously began flexing and extending, opening, closing in a rhythmic gesture as he settled the immediate wave of frustration that washed over him. He didn’t want to turn around and wordlessly go back the way he came. “Apologies.” He muttered through gritted teeth, a false apology. He normally wasn’t late; he normally wasn’t many things he was that early morning. And he wasn’t about to explain why he was late, as the reason was both exasperating and embarrassing. Maybe if she was observant she’d be able to see the uncharacteristic dark circles that had rapidly accumulated under Parker’s steely blue stare and apply logic. Or maybe she could see his thick leather belt with its many pouches, daggers and the spiked iron knuckles that hung from a chain and wouldn’t press any harder. …The latter of which was definitely going to happen, if first impressions and conversations online were anything to use as references. “What specimens frequent this area?” He decided to ask, pushing through the formalities though he kept his eyes on her keenly.

—

Not that she would ever think to admit it, but Anita was a bit impressed by the fact that he didn't even bother to justify or explain why he was late. It fit with what she knew about the man - not one for niceties for the sake of niceness. He wasn't exactly what she had expected. He seemed unnecessarily angry and on edge. Having never met him before, however, Anita had no way to know if that was his usual posture or if was something reserved for this specific interaction. 

After taking note of his affect, the next thing she noticed were the weapons affixed to his belt. Were Anita not confident that she could hold her own against him they would have caused her concern - he came out to meet a strange woman in the woods and he came fairly heavily armed. It made her wonder what he knew about these woods. ”No specimens that warrant all that,“ she replied, gesturing towards the belt. 

In an effort to show that the daggers had no effect on her, Anita turned her back towards him and began to walk down the path towards the clearing she intended to bring him to. ”There's a fair amount of beetle species out this way. I like this area in particular because as you head further towards the peak you come across a variety of different micro-ecosystems which provides a fair amount of biodiversity.“ 

That was going to be part of her personal test of him, checking on how quickly he was able to identify the different insects they came across. Anita wasn't so snobbish to think that his lack of formal education constituted a lack of knowledge, but she was petty enough to hope that she would catch him off his game and prove that she was the true expert between them. ”Hopefully you got your beauty rest, we've got a bit of a hike ahead of us.“ 

—

He understood that he might’ve been a little bit over-prepared for something as seemingly innocuous as hunting for bugs that early morning but given everything that was in that town, let alone how unnecessarily on edge he constantly felt over the past week, Parker didn’t really consider any of it to be superfluous. She certainly didn’t seem to be intimidated by anything on his person as she willingly turned her back to him to lead him to wherever they were supposedly going, which… he didn’t really think that she would’ve been. Everything about her exuded confidence, a sense of intellectual superiority from how they’d talked online. So, he followed her, feeling the soft morning air on his bare arms as the sleeves of his blue Henley were gathered around his elbows, glancing around the unfamiliar environment. She mentioned beetle species and he wondered if she was being purposefully vague due to the assumption that she didn’t think he knew what she would’ve been talking about by mentioning specific suborders. Parker wouldn’t have put that past her, either and the thought sent another pulse in his hands, which gripped the thick leather of his belt tightly but briefly before loosening again. “Rest is rest; its appearance has no merit on anything. I’ll keep up, you needn’t concern yourself with that.” He remarked rather absently, though he didn’t want to think about how he hadn’t received much of any sleep the night before, beautiful or otherwise. Instead of lingering on that aspect, he continued on after her with the knowledge already cemented in his brain that he would most likely be sore after this venture, but ideally with a new specimen or two to add to his collection. “Are we talking about polyphaga?” He asked in an attempt to make small talk as they walked.

—

There was something about the cool August morning air that made Anita slightly homesick. Even the dead of summer in Maine never got quite as hot as her desert home but the feeling of the warm sun on her skin always pulled her back there mentally. But now wasn't the time to dwell on that, especially not with the present company. Instead she just continued leading them down the forest path keeping a diligent eye out for certain flora that she knew would be a prime host for unique insects. 

The mention of polyphaga was amusing, and thankfully with her back still towards him Parker wouldn't have seen Anita's slight smirk at the mention of the scientific name. “Given that 90% of beetles fall into that suborder... yes, I expect we will see many polyphaga. Around this time of year there are a lot of curculionoidea and tenebrionoidea.” 

It was interesting. Had their online interactions gone differently this meet-up may have been more of a meeting of the minds opposed to a competition. But that wasn't the case. Anita looked up at the tree cover above them, watching some of the birds dance around in the spotted beams of sunlight. ”You're not a local either, if I remember correctly.” Ameture bug enthusiasts usually had limited information on the insects of foreign ecosystems. “So, why insects?” It was a question she got asked all the time and while, in her younger years it had bothered her, Anita had grown to appreciate it. After all, it was nothing more than an opportunity to talk about one of her biggest passions. 

—

She was being smug and he, in turn, was thankful that she had her back to him otherwise she would’ve caught his lip curling slightly in disdain; if she hadn’t been vague in the first place, he wouldn’t have felt the need to specify, if only a little bit. “I wouldn’t mind getting my hands on a specimen from pyrochroidae; it’s been a while.” Parker remarked rather quietly, one of his hands continuing to rest on his belt in its familiar place of safety and comfort while the other subconsciously flexed and extended his fingers in their rhythmic motion, giving him something to do silently as he dealt with any threatening swing of the pendulum in his mind. Tired, but ever-sharp blue eyes were narrowed, almost like a hawk scanning the environment for prey which wasn’t entirely inaccurate - Parker, raised in the bayous of Louisiana, wasn’t accustomed to these temperatures but the crisp morning air wasn’t unwelcome, seeming to do the trick to forcibly wake him up where he might’ve been lagging in certain mental aspects. “Why not insects.” He replied at first, perhaps a little too casually and it took him about a minute before he realized that she was either trying to engage in small talk or test him to see if he really was interested in the subject as she was. “Insects were my learning tools when I was a child.” He explained after the moment of silence. “I was… motivated by little else.” He opted to leave off the parts where his family, even his mother, chalked him up as a failure because of the limited scope with which he viewed the world. ‘You’re broken. But I don’t hate you for it anymore’, his father had said, late into their relationship and shortly before he died. “...” He breathed in, as though about to say something else but nothing came out except for a soft exhale and his mouth closed once more. “...You?”

—

His response was vague. Anita couldn’t tell if it was because he didn’t care to talk about it or if it was because he didn’t care to talk to her about it. At least in their online interactions even when he was being a dick he was still talkative. It wasn’t as much fun without the tet-a-tet back and forth. “My grandfather had an extermination business. My father took me with him from time to time on jobs and before I even had words for them, I was captivated by insects. The curiosity grew until it consumed me entirely. Like most of the natural world, they speak to an inherent truth that people often try to resist: everyone has a place in their ecosystem and their value has nothing to do with their size but, rather, their contributions to that ecosystem.” 

Turning her head just enough to make brief eye contact, Anita continued, “Ecosystems are delicate. When creatures fail to fulfill their purpose within them, they fall apart.” It was one of the few absolute truths that Anita knew and she wondered if he knew it too. Sometimes it felt like that is what Anita had done to her own ecosystem - to her own family. She failed to fulfill her purpose, she left, and as a result things fell apart. 

As they turned a corner and approached a small clearing, Anita spotted a cluster of trees with decaying bark at their bases that should be home to a plethora of pyrochroidae and other similar beetles. Without pointing it out or saying anything, she changed course and headed towards them, dropping into a squat once she got close to them. “You spend much time out in the woods?” Maybe that was why he had an arsenal of weapons hanging off his hips. Maybe he knew what else was out here. 

—

Her answer was much more robust than his and Parker wondered, just briefly, if he was supposed to supply a heartier answer than the one he had given. The thought was brief because he was already under such a strong impression that he was being silently tested by Anita, scrutinized from every angle in an attempt to seem like she was better than him that he assumed her judgment extended to something as personal as why he had gotten into entomology. As he thought about it, then thought about thinking about it, he could feel himself threatening to fall into a spiral so instead, he pushed the thoughts aside and caught eye contact, keeping his eyes on her far longer than she had as they walked. They turned, he followed her without prompting and he continued to look around as he chewed on what she had said, about how fragile nature had a tendency to be sometimes and how one weak link could disrupt the chain. Part of Parker wondered if she was simply waxing poetic or if there was a hidden meaning in her words but the thought was discarded as they drew close to a selection of trees with their peeling bark. Wordlessly, as she crouched, he tread more lightly and took a few steps to a different trunk, blue eyes scanning the surface for movement, a place to gently pry the bark away. “I do.” He replied, again almost leaving it at that. ‘Man, she gives you one impression that she doesn’t care and suddenly you clam up. That’s not becoming, bro.’ “Being outside of town provides clarity. I don’t… get along well with humans.” Parker added, his delivery still blunt and objective.

—

There was something familiar, and therefore unsettling, in Parker’s prolonged eye contact. Anita was not naive enough to believe that the only dangerous creatures out in the woods were like her. She knew there was a perverse breed of humans that were objectively an evolutionary marvel, who had evolved to track and kill those like her. She’d known some in her time. Eaten most of them. 

Based on how their conversation had been going, Anita expected that Parker was going to end his response with those two words. Instead he continued, his response being the first real thing that he has said that piqued her interest. “I get along with humans but I don’t care much for them.” It was possibly too telling of a response but she could explain it away if necessary. “I feel that nature, these creatures,” gesturing to a cluster of bark beetles she had uncovered, “this is where I’m most understood.” 

“Can I ask a question without you immediately becoming offended by it?” Anita was going to ask it anyway, but she decided to preface it with that inquiry. In her mind it softened the question. In her mind it was a way to signify that she was asking without judgment. That’s how it came across in her mind, anyway. “Your temperament suggests you would make a fine scientist. Your ego suggests you would make a good one, possibly. Why no formal schooling?” 

—

Her response to his comment about people was unusual, to say the least. She wasn’t a fae, that much was obvious. Perhaps Parker should’ve said that he didn’t get along with ‘people’. Every once in a while, it slipped his mind that there were shifters, vampires (which he also assumed she wasn’t one because the sun was creeping into the sky and from his limited understanding, they couldn’t be in direct sunlight) and other associated beings in town. It was easier for him to separate fae from humans, from people who lived normal lives and weren’t interested in disrupting humanity for petty reasons. But he didn’t say ‘people’. Parker said ‘humans’, which was his mistake and now with the thought that maybe she wasn’t a human herself created a new wariness inside of him. He wasn’t afraid of her and likely wouldn’t ever be, but he could hear his father telling him that it was good to be prepared for anything, regardless of whether or not he was equipped to. And the Warden couldn’t say that he could relate - insects were just that, and he wasn’t an insect. They were beautiful, serving their purposes, whatever that was, feeling part of their environment. Parker was a machine, an automaton who didn’t fit in anywhere. He wasn’t created to fit into a grand scheme, a plan, a tapestry. He was genetically engineered to perform one function and he had long since accepted that about himself. It was this explanation that answered her question before he could formulate the words. “It… wasn’t considered important.” He replied rather quietly, once he clenched and unclenched his hands as he felt the initial wave of frustration wanting him to become incendiary towards her for prefacing her question with ‘don’t get offended’ pass over him. “To my parents, it was a teaching method. To the rest of my family, it’s a shortcoming.” He explained, his gaze softening as he approached her trunk to see what she had found; they may not have gotten along, but it was easy for him to set aside his pride when it came to observing insects, appreciating them. “I wasn’t designed for this. My father considered me a failure.” Everything Parker said was said in the same tone, flat and blunt though he could feel his insides wanting to burn up with irritation that his father thought of him like that so late into his life. ‘And I still do sometimes, boy.’ “So it’s a passion, but that’s it.” He acknowledged, looking sideways at Anita. “I probably don’t know as much as you. But I know enough to be considered an outlier to my family and the purpose of my existence.”

—

Finally, Anita thought as Parker provided more than a one-sentence response. It was proving difficult to keep pestering him about the like, two things she knew about it. Strained familial relationships, that was something. Unfortunately for her, it was something she related to all too well. Shit, maybe this was backfiring. It was easy enough to not empathize with him, but this was venturing towards sympathy. “Formal education wasn’t considered important in my family, either.” Anita decided to opt for the truth, content with acknowledging the distinctions in their paths. “My family does not give a shit about my degrees, my accomplishments. They think it all a waste.” She didn’t add the humanity context. They only felt that way because they could not wrap their heads around her choosing to live among humans. “My father is the only one who supports me, despite not understanding.” 

Maybe that last bit was unnecessary to add, but Anita wasn’t going to acknowledge that. Instead, she decided to move on. It was never in question but it was extremely satisfying to hear him admit she knew more than he did. At least he had some common sense. “And what is the purpose of your existence?” She worked hard to make sure that her tone sounded genuine, like a deadly robber fly presenting itself to the world as a harmless bumble bee. It seemed unlikely that he would continue to open up… but she wanted to see how far she could push this. 

—

As they examined the insects that skittered along on the bark, minding their own business, Parker didn’t think he was expecting… ‘Is it empathy or sympathy?’ His brother asked. ‘Like he can tell the difference.’ His father replied as the Warden remembered this conversation vividly as it happened decades ago now. Whichever one it was, he had little to say in terms of emotional value when Anita explained her own reasoning in an attempt to do either of those things. Usually, that was the part of the story where the two sides of the same coin would engage in some wholesome conversation about how they weren’t so different, how they could find things to bond over. Anita’s family apparently didn’t understand her, either. That was where it ended, though. They didn’t understand, but she still sought higher education. Her father was the only one who supported her; Parker couldn’t say the same about his own father. She got to do whatever she wanted to do. She didn’t speak like a hunter and she wasn’t a fae. She might not have been human, but then again, neither was he when he recalled what other people called him. Then came the main question, the one Parker never really had a sufficient answer for for some reason or another. He kept his half-lidded blue eyes on the insects astutely as he let the question linger in the air - he figured she didn’t like the pauses between conversation, but she wasn’t the only one vying for control in this scenario. There was also the likely possibility that she didn’t care; from their interactions so far, nothing about her indicated that she actually wanted to know. This was all small talk. They might not have been so different but they were different enough. And Parker didn’t benefit from having someone similar to him in the same vicinity. “It doesn’t matter.” He replied, standing back up and glancing over at the other trunk he had been examining before she found what they were looking for. He wanted to say ‘you don’t care anyway’ but then he would’ve gotten a ‘you’re right’. And he didn’t care that she didn’t care, it wasn’t something that elicited sympathy or empathy. ‘See, I told you he couldn’t tell the difference.’ It simply was. “Can you answer that?” He offered, turning to look down at her. It was a nebulous question, not one that most had the answer to, in his experience.

—

His response was expected and therefore incredibly boring. Anita had invited him out here to prove that she knew the most about the insects they had a shared interest in, but now she was eager to show that she knew about the humans they both had a disinterest in. She didn’t know whether or not he parroted her question back to her because he didn’t have any original questions of his own to ask or if it was a challenge. She took it as the ladder - a push to imply she maybe didn’t have one. 

Sure, it was a strange question to ask another person. But Anita wouldn’t have asked it if he hadn’t implied that he, or his family, believed that he had some specific purpose for existing. “I don’t believe I have one singular purpose for existing,” she replied with a shrug as she stood up and looked around the patch of forest they were in. “Just like those beetles that you’re watching,  I think we all play important roles within our own ecosystems. Some of us are much further up the food chain than others. Our purpose is just existence. What we do with what we are dealt, well, that’s not purpose - that’s choices. The paradox of free will.”

And as part of her own free will, Anita was starting to think of ways to end their interaction early. Maybe if she provoked him further he would be the one to crack first and leave? “After all, if we have free will, can we also have a pre-designated purpose for existing? Conversely, if we have a pre-designated purpose for existing… can we be said to have free will?” That was, admittedly, all Anita knew about the paradox of free will as she never did much philosophy beyond an intro class she took because some girl she wanted to hook up with was taking the class. But it was enough to sound good. “I’m team free will.” 

She had moved around a bit as she was talking, and right after topping off her brief rant a tree branch fell right near where she had just been standing. It startled her very slightly but she tried to maintain an unfazed effect in front of him. Had he not been around Anita likely would have looked up into the tree to see where it had fallen from, but she felt that not even acknowledging it was maybe the cooler way to play it off. “So, yeah, I clearly can answer that question.” 

—

The Warden hadn’t anticipated that by him passing the question off to her, placing the ball in her court, it was going to kick-start a lecture. Already quiet, Parker narrowed his gaze as she stood and looked around. Philosophy wasn’t something he held inherent interest for, and hypotheticals weren’t a currency he traded in. He believe in the butterfly effect, to be sure, but with the way his being taught about the fae from such a young age weaved itself around his ideologies, he had long since learned that whether people liked it or not, Fate was predetermined and while one could pull at the threads, the final tapestry would remain the same. So, in essence, it was as Anita had described it. “Why use five words when fifty will do.” He replied dryly instead of saying something conducive such as ‘we might agree’ or ‘I understand your point’. Those thoughts were alien to him on the best of days, and on his worst they inflamed something in his mind. Parker couldn’t stand mirrors, though he never understood why, even now. She spoke too much and then said that she could clearly answer the question but that wasn’t it, was it? Or was that it and she was trying to sound better than him, more superior to him again, as had been the case every time they’d started to engage in conversation? His hands clenched and unclenched as he felt tension start to ripple through his muscles; the pendulum was starting to swing again. And he was getting mad, which was why he wasn’t expecting it to mix with surprise as she moved and almost immediately after, a branch had crashed down where she’d been standing. Instinctively, he glanced up, his brow still furrowed but with a sharp eye darting around like a hawk trying to find its prey. “Stop talking.” Parker ordered, just as dull in his delivery as before.

—

By this point, Anita was beyond done with the conversation. It wasn’t even just because he was so annoying and generally frustrating -- it was because he was boring. Parker hardly even engaged with her and was evidently back to incredibly short responses. It wasn’t fun bothering him when he didn’t react to her. “Here’s five words for ya: stop being a little bitch.” Not her best comeback by any stretch, but it felt satisfying to say. 

Had she not been so focused on making a grand exit she may have noticed how his attention turned towards where the branch had fallen with a furrowed intensity. Instead, she turned to go back up the path from where they had come from and hopefully never have to interact with him again. Just as she started leaving, however, another branch fell and the end of it scraped against the back of her arm as she moved. “Ok! Seriously, what the fuck!?” Finally turning her attention upward, Anita tried to figure out what was going on but she didn’t spot anything particularly out of the ordinary and turned her attention back towards Parker, kinda hoping to see if he would get hit with a branch next. 

—

The flagrant insult, the choice of words, the fact that Anita justified the Warden’s behavior as him just being difficult for the sake of being difficult (which is exactly what Parker thought she was doing), flared the Warden’s temper and he resisted the strong, white-hot urge to give her a sharp backhand in immediate retaliation. His breath caught in his throat as one of his hands clenched so hard one could almost hear a bone cracking in the tension that wavered dangerously between the two and the inflammation of anger spiking into him was strong enough that he had to physically pull himself away from being so close to her. He didn’t realize that if he just waited a little longer, she would’ve gone through the liberty of removing herself first but as it was, he took the step back, his movements solid as though his iron-toed boots were glued to the ground. Whatever was in the tree had temporarily been completely forgotten as Parker struggled not to react viscerally to what was really such a shallow combination of words, so far beneath him, that he shouldn’t have felt the need to react at all. His nostrils flared with evident irritation and he tore his icy glare off of her back as Anita turned to skulk off, probably thinking that she had ‘won’ this invisible tug-of-war though Parker wasn’t ever competing with her over anything. He hadn’t been, he was content not to. He didn’t care. He just did his job and engaged in his hobbies and someone always had to– Anita’s voice punctured his thoughts and, brow still furrowed, he snapped his head to look in her direction once more where she herself was looking up at the trees again. He glared at her until she looked back at him, where his gaze drifted up towards the trees, much more slowly than before. Right, that’s what he was doing before she decided to turn this into a whole thing. Parker looked into the leaves once more, going from tree to tree, his expression shifting into one that much more closely resembled his default as he felt the pendulum in his mind settling once more. As he was turning more in the direction of where the first branch had come from - he assumed she reacted because she got hit by another one - his sharp eyes caught movement and one of his arms shot out, acting almost autonomously as his hand caught a branch that was aiming right for his shoulder. “It’s an agropelter.” Parker explained, dropping the branch casually and reaching for one of the small crossbow bolts that sat in a quiver on his overly-ambitious utility belt. “You must’ve been making too much noise.” He said pointedly.

—

Anita didn’t know the man in front of her well enough to understand his actions or predict his next steps. She hadn’t had the opportunity to really observe him to get a sense of his temperament. Maybe that was why it was more than a bit surprising at how fast his reflexes were when he caught the tree limb in mid-air. It was impressive and if it had been anyone else who had done that, Anita may have acknowledged that fact. Instead, her expression remained sour as she processed the word he used to describe the creature. It wasn’t one she knew - or had ever heard of before. Another thing that may have been impressive in anyone else. Not that she could really confirm that was the real name of the creature. He could have just been full of shit like she presumed. 

Before she could voice her objection to him, essentially, calling her loud; Anita’s eyes caught his hand move towards one of the weapons affixed to his belt. His attention seemed to remain on her as he spoke, creating serious doubt in her mind as to what he intended to do next. Without transformation, Anita had no weapons at her disposal. And based on his recent show of dexterity… she had a feeling he wasn’t going to miss whatever his target was. 

This was why she truly hated her human form. Anita hated that, as she stood there, all of her fleshy bits were so exposed and she had no natural defenses. It felt like time was passing so slowly as she waited for him to show his hand and she had two competing survival instincts swirling around her head. Turning to the Mojave would offer obvious physical protection, however, it would simultaneously put the life she had built in this town at risk. She didn’t know this man, or why he could catch that branch with such ease, or why he knew the name of the strange occupants of the trees above. She didn’t know what he would do if he knew her true form. So, against some of her better instincts, Anita remained planted there in all of her humanity with her focus dialed in on his weapon. 

__

What had happened, whether it was him catching the branch, stating what it was that was assaulting them or how he carefully reached for and retrieved one of the bolts from his compact quiver, it had finally sufficiently gotten Anita to stop throwing her weight around. Parker’s icy glare focused on her for a moment, gathering the bolt between three fingers before they darted up to the branches once more and he sent the bolt hurling through the air quicker than the human eye could perceive. The bolt disappeared into the foliage where a loud squeak of surprise and pain met his half-deaf ears. A pause, then something small with dark fur fell solidly out of one of the trees and landed on the ground, the bolt protruding from its chest. Parker didn’t need to approach the twitching, quivering mass of fur and flesh to know what it was, nor did he feel the need to put the creature out of its misery as it gasped for breath through a puncture wound in one of its lungs. “It’s a shame you’re insufferable; I would’ve enjoyed discussing insects with you further.” He said bluntly, clenching and unclenching the hand that threw the bolt in a rhythmic motion as he felt an unpleasant combination of anger and what might’ve been… ‘Pride? Do you feel pride?’ Walker asked. Whatever it was, it made the Warden’s body ripple with tension, the coiled spring that was his musculature still on edge from the agropelter and perhaps even what Anita could’ve done to him; Parker had no reason not to think that she was a normal human but nowadays, he knew better than to assume anything about anyone aside from spotting potential weaknesses in movement, deficiencies in behavior. He figured she was something of a fighter, at least if she could match her mouth in terms of meaningless insults. He didn’t want to turn his back to her, and yet… Parker said nothing further to her; as far as he was concerned, this interaction was over. It was over and he felt as though he’d wasted his time. He could’ve just left her to the agropelter; it might’ve taken one or two of her fingers if not just content with throwing things at her, but even when his mind was as annoyingly unstable as it was, pumped with all of those emotions and extreme reactions to things that shouldn’t have been reacted to, he was still a Warden. The agropelter was still a fae that could hurt someone. She didn’t need to know that. Crossing his arms with an irritable sigh, Parker turned and silently walked off. 

He was going home. This was a waste; all he got out of it was agitation and being needlessly insulted again.

—

Even with her eyes fixed on his apparent weapon of choice, Anita was sure that her reaction to him deploying the weapon, however small and slight that her muscles flinched, was noted by the man. It felt like a display of weakness though she was unsure why it felt that way. There was no question that he had hit his intended target, the small lifeless body of whatever woodland creature had been in the trees was indisputable evidence of that. Once again, something that she would have expressed openly how impressed she was had the act done by nearly anyone else. 

For a split second, no longer, Anita did wonder if she was being too stubborn. Through all of her interactions with the blonde curator, it was apparent that they had substantial commonalities yet she felt so intensely disfavorable towards him. His final comment reminded her why, however, and replaced any lingering positive impressions with a growing rage. 

As was her reaction to most circumstances of conflict, Anita immediately considered how easy it would be to simply swallow the arrogant man whole. Surely her mouth could open wide enough to accommodate his ego. Fortunately for Parker her curiosity, morbid or otherwise, told her that it would be more satisfying to get to know him better first. To draw out her inevitable victory and in doing so make the day she did finally vanquish him that much more satisfying. 

“I’ll be seeing you,” she finally responded as he began to walk away from her. “Small town after all.” She had no idea if he would take the statements as the threat she intended them to be, but as he faded from her view he similarly faded from her mind for the time being. Anita collected the deceased creature Parker had slain, intending to examine it further back at her lab, before walking off in the opposite direction. Sure, her car was back towards where he was headed but taking the long way back was worth it to not risk any additional interaction.

[fairyeoll]

like a thunder, enchanted

[frogtify]

julian alvarez es el peter parker argentino del multiverso, estamos de acuerdo no?

[comicchannel]

Marvel Legends Series Spider-Man No Way Home (Peter 02) Hasbro F6507

Link para compra BR: *Possível importar pelo Link abaixo

Buy here: https://amzn.to/3POLw65

[merelyplxyers]

Love makes fools of all of us

open to m/f/nb (30+)

When Maxim first learned about their infidelity, he thought that their relationship would survive, that they would trust enough in him for them to tell him themselves, but then they kept on lying, day after day until he confronted them and instead of having faith in what they had built over the years and putting in the work to mend what they shattered, they had decided to leave, like a bloody fucking coward. All he felt then was pain. He had packed his things and left their home, unable to bear the sight of all the things they had built, all the memories the place held. He didn’t need much, so a rundown motel it was, but now with them standing on his doorstep, the pain he had felt was replaced by the rage of a man who felt betrayed by the only person that made his life really worth living. “You of all people dare to tell me if I can switch departments or not? I am a member of the NYPD, for fuck's sake. Making sure the bad guys ends up behind bars is my fucking business. I left organized crime for you, became an instructor, so you wouldn’t have to be worried that you get the call that they found my body in some back alley dumpster filled with lead. I put you first. Since things got serious between us, I have always put you first and my own wishes second, so you can sleep well at night…”, Maxim's voice was getting louder and louder.

“So, what do you want to talk about so suddenly? How easily you have given up on us? Or about how you’ve been too much of a coward to tell the man you claim to love you made a mistake? Or about how disgusted I feel about myself that I considered forgiving you in the first place? You promised to be mine ‘till death do us part and gave yourself to another, and because I love you, I wanted to forgive you. That’s what you made out of me… a loving fool”

[writelikeyouarerunningoutof]

@legaciestold | continued from here.

it goes back to comfortable, the quiet between them. the way he feels like he can be himself - he doesn’t have to be action man, or the captain, or anyone other than just becker with jessica. he never has, right from the beginning, even when he was keeping her - keeping everyone - at arm’s length because he’d just lost not just his team but his friends. but jessica - jessica is and always has been different. she’s made her place in his life as a colleague, a friend, someone so intrinsically important to him that the thought of losing her makes him lose his head. everyone has seen that, even when becker tried to go back to keeping that distance between them. that plausible deniability that jessica is more important to him than just about anybody.

not anymore. he’s not doing that anymore. not denying the fact that he cares about her as more than just a friend. not denying the fact that spending time with her is a highlight and something he looks forward to and actively seeks. not denying the way she makes his day brighter, the smiles she puts on his face. not denying that she makes him stumble over his words as much as he does her - stay warm, really? - and that it makes him laugh that they can joke about it. he is sure she sees the huff of laughter he lets out at her words, the barely evident smile on his lips. jessica would know that on anyone else, this would be a beam. “connor was talking about a new chinese place a couple of streets away.” becker’s been wanting to try it, but not alone. if he’s honest, he’s been wanting to try it with jessica. idly, he wonders who won the bet about when he’d get his act together and whether this counts.

[jazzdailyblog]

Jerry González: Celebrating the Latin Jazz Legacy of a Musical Maestro

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[edsonjnovaes]

Homem Aranha (o filme original completo de 1977)

Homem Aranha (o filme original completo de 1977). Israel Play 10. 11 de set. de 2022 O primeiro homem aranha do mundo (oficial) feito pelo ator Nicholas Hammond, interpretando o jornalista Peter Park, picado por uma aranha radioativa que ganhou poderes e virou o homem aranha na cidade de New York. Na década de 70, muito antes do herói ganhar o tratamento cinematográfico que todos conhecemos,…