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icyteaa · 3 years

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TCF HEADCANON

[Being alive is the best, isn't it?]

Part 1

White Star, their worst enemy that tries to bring despair to the world, have been defeated. Everyone on the battlefield saw his body slowly fall from above with root as big as a dagger stabbed his heart. And without them knowing the reason, the body gradually disappeared; like ash that swapped away by the wind. Left beautiful white embers in the air.

But there is no one who could shout to celebrate their victory. Nor they can hug each other out of the overwhelming feeling. It's like there is something chocking their throat and their body stiffly stands as their head focuses on the body that falls together with the enemy; it's their hero, Commander Cale Henituse.

The weak and pale body slowly fell after smiling when he finally defeated the enemy. But there is not a single one who was happy to see their dear hero fall as the last thing the alliance armies could see was the closest comrades of the hero shouting his name while rushed toward the unconscious body.

The one who was always beside Cale, Raon, panicked when he saw the body falls. But grown up to be more mature and composed in this kind situation, he didn't just freeze as he cast his human body so he could fall smoothly while Raon tried to communicate with all his family that rushed toward Cale to find the person that maybe could heal him soon, Saint Jack.

They were all transported toward one of the buildings in Puzzle city where Saint Jack healing the allied armies who were wounded while clashing on the battlefield. Everyone was crowded in the room where Cale tried to be healed by Jack. They felt as much pain as they saw their idiot young master that always sacrificed himself wail in pain while he fainted. All his body was filled with his own blood. There is a hole in his chest, where exactly the root had stabbed to his heart before; the sacrifice Cale should endure to make the weapon to kill White Star.

No, they didn't even know it was possible. And again, Cale always makes himself take all the heavy responsibility in his weak shoulder.

The only ones who didn't present there were Alberu and Rosalyn, because they should let all his subordinates, armies and mages know their victory. Calm the innocent citizen that felt terror because of this battle, and announce to all people that they had killed their worst enemy that could make this world filled with despair.

"I... couldn't heal him." All eyes move toward the Saint that uses his power in the last fifteen minutes to heal Cale. His body slumped as his breath got messy and irregular; his face and back full of sweat, but his eyes focused toward the red head that still didn't get any better even if Jack had used all his power. Why?— he felt so frustrated. Jack can even heal creatures with death attribute now, then why can't he heal the one who has the righteous qualified to be healed? Why is someone who always helps everyone, someone with a very good deed, should endure this pain alone?

Jack can feel someone putting their hand on his shoulder. He turned towards the person. It was Choi Han who was mute himself until now. He could feel the cryptic tremble in the man's hand, but Jack shut himself when he saw the serious look on Choi Han's face. "What do you think, Eruhaben-nim?" Everyone's eyes turned again toward the golden hair that just standing in front of the bed side with eyes just focuses toward the unlucky kid that he is always fond of. He sighed and closed his eyes tightly, "We can't do anything about him."

Everyone gets chaotic when they hear it. Especially the kids: Raon, On and Hong, who are already crying as they surrounded their beloved parental figure. But Eruhaben makes them shut again with his magic. They can see the same frustrated looks in the ancient dragon as he explained more, "I thought because the Saint's power gets stronger than before now, he can do something about it. But it looks like Cale needs to heal himself."

Eruhaben continued as he saw serious looks in everyone's faces focused towards him. "The situation in his body is really a mess right now. All his ancient powers were deemed because they tried to let his restoration power work as fast as possible. But because his heart, where the restoration power is placed, got damaged, it will not be easy." He turned toward Cale again when the man grunted with pain, "What we can do now is wait. He will pass out as long as he needs to heal himself. Just like anytime he fainted before."

Everyone wasn't satisfied with this situation, of course. But just like Eruhaben said, there is nothing they can do. Even after Alberu came with the best royal doctors Roan Kingdom has, the only thing they can do is treat the wound in Cale's chest with the hope that it will make the progress of Cale's restoration get faster.

The banquet was held as a celebration of their victory a few days later. As a face of the kingdom that contributes the most, Alberu the Crown Prince, Rosalyn as commander of mage brigades and a few commanders of their armies, as well as the head of another kingdom such as Toonka, Valentino, Litana and Jopis, need to attend the banquet even if they don't feel like they are winning already. Not before their hero woke up from his long collapse.

Everyone wants to know what their hero, Cale's condition is, especially because rumours have circulated about what sacrifice Cale's pull to kill the enemies. But Alberu keeps the information just for a few closest comrades and Cale's family. Cale's body is transported to the royal palace so the doctors can keep in check with Cale's condition, and Alberu lets the children as well as Cale's other comrades; Choi Han, Molans duo, Eruhaben, Mary, Rosalyn and Lock to stay in the palace as long as they want.

They felt worried, of course. But because this case—where Cale fainted for a very long time isn't the first time they have gone through, they can feel a bit calm now. Because Cale always woke up. Their family still breath. Their precious young master started to heal himself. They can wait as long as needed if it means they can see the tender, lazy AF but caring Cale waking up one day. That's too what makes the children still eat their meals properly and take care of their own health. They didn't want Cale to see them sick when he woke up.

One month. Cale is still in bed, fainting; breathing slowly and healing slowly too. The wound healed slower than the doctors predicted. It was assumed because the root Cale stabbed to his chest, not just any roots. But still, Cale makes progress.

The children are always beside him. Just wake up when they need to take a bath or get their meals. They like to feel a vague warm Cale gush from his body. Not as warm as he woke up, but still made them comfortable. Give them hope he will wake up someday.

Ron always takes care of Cale's body. Keeps him clean and changes his clothes once a day. He keeps Cale nutrients with infusion the doctors gave. Take care of Cale's hair as it is and cut it when the hair gets longer. Ron and Baecrox too were the ones who take care of their family who want to stay on Cale's side.

Choi Han always stands beside the bed or in front of the room to keep Cale safe. Alberu said Choi Han didn't need to do it because the guard had protected this palace, but he felt uneasy. Choi Han worried about Cale that it would make him want to stand or do something. The only thing he can do now is stand guard, to keep away from the bad thought about why he can keep Cale safe and why Cale never told them about his extreme method of stabbing himself. Choi Han had firm his resolve to keep Cale in check more thoroughly, so Cale can't do the same thing again in the future.

Eruhaben just stays still on the bed side. His eyes turned toward Cale or the window nearest him. Cursing the kid that always had unlucky fate but still refused when they told him to take a proper rest. He felt dumbfounded by himself; the thought of losing someone he is fond of really makes me uneasy. He was contemplating their conversation when Cale said, someday he will want to be healthy and have a long life. And now, Eruhaben wants it. He wants to see the children as well as the family formed—the gods know from when—and stay on their side. It's an amusing feeling, but Eruhaben admitted it's not bad.

Rosalyn, Lock and Mary did not stay as long as the others did. Rosalyn, as one of the heroes with the most contribution, is accepted as the new head of Magic Tower that will be built in a free city between Roan Kingdom and Mogoru Empire. That is why she is very busy right now. But still, she will take time to stop by in Cale's room.

Lock went back to the Forest of Darkness after a week. He still has siblings he should take care of. But everyone who stayed told him they would take care of Cale well so he could rest assured. That's the case for Mary too. She went back to the Underground City to help the dark elf to build another city on the surface because Valentino had agreed to give the restricted place for elves under Roan Kingdom territory.

Alberu is one of the busiest person right now. He wants to change the kingdom into an empire and there are lots of administrative things he should arrange to do it. He will keep busy with the coronation as the first emperor of the Roan Empire too after that. It makes him have migraines sometimes, but he always had time to stop by Cale's room with a box full of cookies. He felt a bit easier when he saw the cheerful looks on children's faces. Of course, as a sworn brother, he felt worried about his stupid sacrificial dongsaeng, but he would just stare at Cale and curse in his breath without sound. He didn't want the children to feel down if he mentioned all his complaints to their father figure.

Everyone who fought with Cale on the battlefield stopped in Cale's palace as much as they could. It just shows how much Cale had reached everyone's hearts without him even realizing. Saint Jack and Hannah come by often too. One day they brought the news about the coronation of Rex as the first emperor from a commoner family. It was controversial but at least the citizens of Mogoru Empire themselves had accepted it because there is no one who qualified more than him when it comes to saving them from the incident made by their former Imperial Prince, Adin.

Three months. It was very long for them, but Cale still remains the same. The wound in Cale's chest is closed now, but Eruhaben said inside Cale's body is still a mess. The clashes between ancient powers when he fought with White Star affected Cale's body and needed time to heal. It's okay, they tried to assure each other. They remember too, when the incident where they met White Star for the first time, it took Cale 3 months too to wake up. And Eruhaben said Cale was getting better. So it should be okay.

Everything except that remained the same. Everyone stopped by and went again. They have conversations, especially with children, to make their high spirit not go down and tell them to take care of themselves. Cale's family came by too with Raon's help. But time goes by and Cale is not awake even if everyone waits.

Six months. It felt too long already. Cale never fainted for this long time. It makes them worry. But doctors said his condition is getting better. But until when?— the older ones keep their worries on their own, because they know it will just make Raon, On and Hong feel more down. The children keep asking why their human is still not awake, but there is no one who can answer. They miss—miss Cale so much; the caressed Cale gave when they went to sleep, the warm Cale illuminated, his tender voice, and everything. They miss them all.

But still, Cale remains silent; laying down in bed with a slow breath. Still not move one inch or open his eyes. Cale was transported to the Super Rock Villa after six months. The main reason is because there is nothing royal doctors can do because Cale's body condition is at his finest already. His inside is the one that still needs recovery and it's not the thing medic can help.

The other reason is, they want Cale to feel as if he is at home. The children said maybe it will make him awake. Because he will miss their home, as much as others miss him.

>> continue <<

Next to part 2

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hermitcraftheadcanons · 4 years

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Scattered AU Masterpost Part 2 [COMPLETE]

Due to post length limit (which is apparently a thing), this AU has been split into two parts. Find Part 1 here!

Join the Discord server here!

Contributions:

- Mumbo has a pet ravager miscellaneous ideas: the ravager is actually a bit small as far as ravagers go. Once Mumbo leaves to go to the hermits, he doesnt take the ravager with him, for fear the environment wouldn't be right for it. However, the ravager follows him and Iskall, startling both when it comes running up to Mumbo. The ravager does not like any of the hermits, however it doesn't attack them because it can understand that Mumbo cares about them. - anonymous

- related to scattered au and "what if this happened to old hermits too" -- python's stuck in a death loop in a bastion (his spawn is right next to a piglin brute). he has no clue what's going on but by god, does he blame zloy - Anonymous

- Consider: Etho's mask protecting him from the flowers that gave Hypno so much trouble. - @/rayveewrites

- (Scattered AU) After Etho dies accidentally at the spawn haven, his spawn takes him to Xisuma. Xisuma is clinging to life when he gets there, and Etho only has time to grab his admin's arms and promise he'll be found before Xisuma passes away. Etho and Xisuma get a few hours together to work on getting Xisuma to the surface before Etho starves to death, and he's transported somewhere else. After that Etho makes it his mission to cycle through spawns as quickly as possible to help Xisuma and anyone else who is trapped in their spawn graveyard, no matter how much his legs start to fail him from the damage starting to linger from building into the sky and leaping off to respawn over and over. - @/petrichormeraki

- Some honorable mentions from my written summary for mumbo in the au: the illigers being terrified as he keeps coming back no matter how many times they kill him; he gets adopted by evoker; he fails at evoker magic, like so bad he cant even dye a sheep; the evoker being so done with mumbo that they beg the vex to give him magic; mumbo summoning scar when the vex get annoyed at how often he summons them, mumbo eventually summoning bdubs after scar's contract to mumbo runs out.... and so much more - @/therainofsweetmelody

- Moobloom!Hypno attracts bees - @/itsabork

- Not too long into his messenger journey, etho remembers what had happened to impulse by the time he, zed and tango had found him, which inspires him to try and die in a different way each time he sets off to find another hermit, partly to avoid becoming resiliant to certain death methods and partly for the challenge - Anonymous

- Because Doc hasn't died his death messages haven't been showing up in the chat. The other hermits don't know if he's even in the same world as them. - Anonymous

- (Scattered AU) More on the Mumbo accidentally summoning Scar thing; the summoning has "opened" the chat for them, but only between Mumbo and Scar. All evokers can call on their Vex, after all, so why not an evoker in more-or-less training? - @/petrichormeraki

- (alternate headcanon) There's so much discussion in the server, I wouldn't know where to start restating. However, I wanna mention one thing: scar spawning in xisuma's first spawn, deep in a geode down under ground. Being trapped in an endless death loop due to the warden lurking just outside the geode, forcing scar into the same loop xisuma had been trapped in so long ago. Not only does he have to deal with the separation from bdubs once they got out of the end, now he seemingly cant escape the warden's clutches.... - @/therainofsweetmelody

- Admins log who knows how long: I've finally managed to get my helmet some repairs with this I could get some plugins to start working hopefully. Considering the situation going on, I better not have derped to hard on this, not now. - Anonymous (singleplayer sleep now works)

- (Scattered AU) Because the code is glitchy for mob hermita, Jevin would spilt when injured too much. So while X and Jevin are trying to get to the surface, they encounter a dungeon or a mineshaft and Jevin gets fatally injured. X starts freaking out cause he doesent want to be alone again and he cant bear to watch Jevin die infront of him and risk getting lost and seperated and Jevin just splits, theres two Jevins now and X doesent know what to think of it.While there are two Jevins, their consienceness is split between the two and his motor skills are more sloppy and X notices and realises that Jevin loses more of himself the more he splits. So while he has a lower chance of losing Jevin to an unfortunate accident, Jevin slowly reverts to a slime the more be splits and the more be spends time as multiple entities. X worries that if Jevin splits for too long or too much, he might lose Jevin - @/itsabork

- The only portal to get out of Hels and into the overworld is an incredibly complex vault boarder line weapon built by Hels Doc and Hels Mumbo and the location of the portal is known only to a few and it changes every season. Now cue Helsknight and Wels sneaking all around Hels while trying to look for this basically impossible to find and get into way home. - anonymous

- It takes a while, but eventually those outside of hermitcraft start wondering why all the hermits collectively disappeared. Sure, they started a new world, and sure they’re usually more secluded, but it’s been months. Skizz wonders why he hasn’t heard from Impulse in a while. All the legates wonder where Python went. Everyone’s confused when none of the hermits turn up to the next MCC. Things get weirder when none of them sign up for the one after. -🟣

- Ok to add on to the daisy ravenger post, on his way to 0,0 Mumbo found spawn spawn, slo when he arrived everyone had him at sword point, expecting angry illiger noises they were surprised when they herd "GUYS IT'S ME!!" - Anonymous

(Note: Hermits at the haven currently include Joe, Beef, Hypno, Scar, Bdubs, TFC, Mumbo, and Iskall, in order of arrival. XB is en route, and Etho was there briefly before dying and respawning elsewhere.)

- Pix and Zloy would be the first to notice the hermits' absence. After all, they do a weekly show about them. Maybe they just decided to have a few weeks of downtime before moving to the next Season? Though surely it wouldn't take this long... - @/rayveewrites

- because im a legacy sucker, the legates would likely be the first to notice the hermits' disappearance. between zloy being on the server, skizz being part of zits and very close to impulse, pearl knowing a few hermits, plus python literally disappearing. what they'd do about it? no idea.to keep it more on the topic of hermits though, don't think about how devastated skizz would be to find out what impulse went through. don't think about it :) - anonymous

- Hello I have produced thoughts! I don’t have room for both so I’m sending 2 asks -when Iskall arrives at the mansion all of the illagers are wary; if one of mumbo’s friends are here then he must be leaving soon. Despite their initial feelings they’ve come to care about this idiot that wandered into their house, and they’re fully aware he has no survival instincts whatsoever, so when he does end up leaving they send a ravager to keep him (and his friends, they suppose) safe -@/haworthiaace

- so like... hear me out ok what if the reason the whole world is corrupting and weird and why a lot of people are like slowly turning into mobs is because maybe this is the way the game and the mobs are turning on the hermits for like making really inhumane farms or something like that and the mobs somehow messed with the code of the world to get revenge - anonymous

- Scattered AU!! Biffa spawned very concerned and on a beach. Where is he? How did he get here? Is he alone? Well one of his questions was answered quickly as he heard a constant buzzing sound come from his communicator, upon opening it he saw probably millions of death messages. He quickly realised this was probably supposed to be a new season of hermitcraft, but he didn't really have time to think about it, night was quickly approaching and he could already see drowned swimming towards him. - Anonymous

- How many times did X die to that Warden? Maybe he develops something to counteract the Warden’s sensors, or that his heartbeat slowed down to the point that his suit can barely pick it up (therefor making it harder for the Warden to track Xisuma down). -🦊

- Etho tried his best to fight the system and not get any new features from all his deaths. But, the game has its ways. Slowly, after every death he has, the less alive he comes back. (Undead!Etho, could be ghost, zombie variant, or skeleton variant) -@/harley-the-pancake

- Other hybrid characteristics Hypno gets of the moonbloom: His ears turn into golden cows ones, the horns grow in, he gets a tail, and little flowers grow though his hair and wrap around his horns. He can also grow flowers around him as long as he has dirt, but thankfully they dont do anything beyond smelling a lot stronger and smelling very nice (and maybe a bit of evoking certain reactions, but nothing beyond what normal flowers can do, ie lavender being calming, just a bit more intense) - anonymous

- Beetlejhost ended up in the world along with the hermits, spawning as if summoned: in the middle of a circle of beehives. His spawn is in the birch forest near the s8 spawn, and his presence spooks anyone who stumbles across him. He blends in concerningly well with the black and white of the forest. Beef feels like hes being watched whenever he goes in the birch forest to get supplies, but joe never notices a thing. He teases the hybrids about their changes, leading him to get swiftly decked- - @/therainofsweetmelody

- beetlejhost spawns in a circle of beehives in the birch forest near spawn. he thinks he's invis, in reality it's just his stripes making him blend into the birch trees. he can't leave the circle of bees, ah how wonderful it is to bee bee-tlejhost - @/justme123abz

- Beetlejhost doesn't mean to be mean, really, he just has really, really bad timing. This includes seeing a pollen-stained Hypno and, with his gravelly voice, immediately say "Woah! Someone had some fun in the sun! Tell me, did you spend a week rolling in dandilions or do you just like the color yellow?" This does not go over well - Anonymous

- Speaking of hybrids, Xisuma spawned in a Wardens den right? Well unlike the other hybrids, Xisuma has been changing too but its been slow. Every time he spawned back in that place, on the warped ground, he's changed. He doenst notice the dark starts to seem less dark, until noises get louder, until he's more sentive to it then he noticed, he gets stronger and breaking though the stone with his bare hands seems a bit easier, its not until he finds Jevin and he points out the glowing horns (1)peaking from his temples when his hair is pulled back hastily that he realizes that something has gone horribly wrong with him. Thankfully Jevin helps ground him before he can freak out, so he shelves it for later, once they're out of this cave. The warden that once was down by his spawn is no longer there btw, disappeared. The horns grow slowly, and soon glowing vein like markings appear as well. (2) - Anonymous

- Okay, Xisuma, we established he spawned in the deep dark, right? As time goes on he adapts to the dark. The skulk sensors grow on him. However as time goes on, they not only grow on him, but become a part of him. His footsteps quiet to near silence, and he can feel sounds. He certainly isn't how he was when he entered, at first glance he might even be mistaken for a warden. - Anonymous

- Tango is the only hermit other than Mumbo Daisy kind of likes. Tango thinks Daisy is absolutely adorable, and Daisy does like the positive attention(and the treats). - Anonymous

- When tango meets mumbo’s pet ravager he loses his mind, he tried so hard to get the decked out ravagers to like him and then mumbo just waltzes in riding on one of the things! He ends up hanging around her a lot and eventually forms some sort of relationship, although not as close as he would like (he also gets a little more sympathetic once he sees the effects the evokers had on mumbo, he figures the guy earned a pet ravager) - @/haworthiaace

(Hermits now at the spawn haven, in order of arrival: Joe, Beef, Hypno, Scar, Bdubs, TFC, Mumbo, Iskall, Tango, Impulse, Zedaph. XB is en route, Wels and Hels are traveling through Hels to get there, Ren, Doc, and Grian are attempting to get there but their success has been limited so far)

- Scattered!AU: Idea that Ex is the ONLY one that knows what is going on and how to fix it perhaps (maybe 'cause of having been banished to the void for so long)? That's why he's trying to find X. - Anonymous

- Admins log: day 1006: Me and Jevin finally see sunlight, and I've managed to get the clock function on my helmet working, finally. As we're on our way to the surface, I only hope that I can find someone or something to help guide us to where we need to go, but unfortunately I've lost all signal to chat, and I think we're next to a woodland mansion. I think I've derped up this time.

- Dear Xisuma, if you see this message then the log is working, also fixed the clock in your helmet it's been 50 days, not 1005. I was about to leave with Iskall when I noticed you and Jevin outside with a few, erm, "buddies" of mine you two where passed out and I managed to stop them from killing you with Daisy, my pet ravenger. I'll explain everything later and spawns in the village are working, finally. I recommend not moving much and work on the data packs for a bit before you do anything elseExplanation log to Xisuma part 2: Sorry if the last one got cut off abruptly, apparently there's a limit to these messages. Any way please take care of yourself. Sincerely, your pal Mumbo Jumbo

- Admins log, day 51: I first want to say thank you Mumbo for bringing me up to speed and explaining why and how me and Jevin are here, next I want to say that these logs may slow down for a bit, I'll be working on some maintenance for some packs. I still don't know why this is happening, I now hope this is a wicked nightmare and not our reality. Hang on I see something over there it looks like, wait let me ju- Voice logs are off for the moment.

- all one anon

- mooblooms spread the flowers that enraptured hypno. now that hypno is a moobloom hybrid, he can make people "hypnotizd"! he doesnt like to, but if the spawn ever gets attacked, the hermits are winning easily. - anonymous

- I like to think that at some point when there's a significant number of healthy hermits at 0,0 they start group searches to find the rest of hermits - anonymous

- After awhile, if they can't change the spawn of everyone, they begin securing all the spawn points to everyone, so if their bed is ever destroyed in the future, they won't end up in a death loop again. They secure the death loop spawn points first. - @/ciaravixen

- For undead Etho: I know that ghasts aren't technically undead mobs, but they're basically ghosts and that's what I feel etho is becoming?He's leaving his mortality behind bit by bit as he ceases to care about death and starts to use it as a tool instead.One day he'll respawn without a body at all - @/draconic-dreams

- This is just a thought. Sand cant be good for Iskall's mechanical parts, and its not like he has anything to fix it. Does he have to wait to find doc to be able to have hope of fixing himself? - anonymous

- Jellie had spawned in the village that cub and xb had come across, so when xb heads to 0,0 he takes her with him (she'd be safer in the overworld than in the end, after all). Its quite a long journey, and she makes for good company. -@/supertiny-tins

- Grian, Doc, and Ren fianlly start heading out to 0,0. Its a long journey, they decide in the end to leave their beds behind at the cabin in case any of them die so none of them end back at their orginal spawns. they would of just made new beds every time but the lack of suplies and resources near by has been low oddly enough. Doc manages to push aside most of his fears to help Grian and Ren, who are weaker, but he keeps his distance whenever he can. They make many hastily built huts as they go 1most nights are spent sleeping on hard ground, later straight up blocks of wool they find but not beds, just wool is better then ground, and it doesn't do the weaker hermits any favors but it works. There are many close calls, but they manage to avoid death, mostly due to Doc. Along the way they start to find signs of other players, coble in places it shouldn't, a rare torch, half mined trees, but no hermits. They still have a way to go, but they're getting closer to the others and safety. 2 - anonymous

- Etho once found himself spawning in the middle of an ocean with nothing and no one in sight except of course... A faint trail of lights dancing beneath the waves... Pulsing and glimmering, almost in a rhythm, something so fascinating, so... So... He was meant to be doing something...? It was... Important... At least... It might have been... It's all.. Kinda hazy... It couldn't have been more important than the lights, nothing was more important than the lights... They were so beautiful... He could watch them all day... Etho never noticed how he slipped beneath the waves, nor how the glow squid's glittering eyes had turned upon him, coiling a tentacle around his waist as it dragged its prey deep into the depths, his eyes hazed with green, he never even noticed his lungs burning for air.And he never remembered drowning after he respawned. - anonymous

- Impulse actually punches through the Nether roof so they can traverse more safely to coordinates given to them by Etho. They leave trails of blocks so they can make their way back, of course. - @/rayveewrites

(Evil X is now hiding out in a cave near spawn)

- Shattered!AU: I see everyone's Warden!Xisuma heacannons and I give you Axolotl!Xisuma. Think about it he's been hanging around with them and Jevin in the lush caves so maybe he's becoming more like them. (Frills, a more pink-ish tint to his skin, the ability to breathe underwater, etc.) :D (Is this because the thought of him having Warden traits is terrifying to me? Maybe. Is it because I think he deserves to become something not scary after his whole ordeal in the Deep Dark? Yes.) - anonymous

- Ever since getting out of the loop, Impulse has had a horrible inner conflict between his guardian side being instinctually drawn to the water, and his human brain being deeply terrified of ever being submerged again. - @/asexualbert

- Because I absolutely adore Daisy, more headcannons for Daisy.Daisy will occasionally just pick Mumbo up gently with her horns when she thinks she isn't getting enough attention. Daisy has a bell collar, because she kept scaring hermits by following Mumbo silently. Daisy is more okay with Iskall than most other hermits, though still doesn't really like him. - anonymous

- Though I'm a sucker for angst, what if Impulse was saved by a dolphin pod or something instead of transforming into a hybrid (or after transforming if Guardian!Impulse is cannon). :3 I can picture dolphins don't take kindly to the Guardian Mobs, might even find them as prey if anything since they're fish. (Guardian!Impulse wouldn't count since they're smart enough creatures to tell the difference.) - anonymous

- Prob a bit early for epilogue stuff but I like to think that, once all the glitches are fixed, that those that became hybrids and would prefer to be back to normal get changed back. - anonymous

(Shade note: Personally, I'm a sucker for stories where the characters adjust and learn to live with the unexpected changes to themselves rather than having them magically fixed, but this option is certainly still here for the people who find it appealing)

- For the scattered au, after the numerous frozen deaths Grian's gone through he starts hearing voices from the snow, even from within Ren's cabin. A snow golem forms after a wandering trader drops a pumpkin and watches from outside the cabin, deciding to guard the place after taking a liking to Grian and Ren. - anonymous

- When Etho became fully ghost, it hit hard. BeetleJhost saw this, and after a while decided to teach him how to show his form and speak. It takes a lot out of him, but it’s worth it. His friends deserve that closure. (Listen, I was expecting angst, I just wasn’t expecting that much angst.) - @/harley-the-pancake

- Mod Shade, I want you to know that angsting ghost!Etho that hard was entirely on you. I was picturing him clipping through blocks and dropping items at inconvenient points, not fading out of existence entirely. - @/draconic-dreams

- Possible explanation for everything going on in Scattered:Players were never supposed to be so powerful; in the natural state of Minecraft they're just another mob, albiet one that can craft and use any tool.But the Players weren't satisfied with that. Everyone from the admin of the smallest server to the mythological ‘dev team’ has been imposing little changes on the world since its inception, slowly tweaking it into a better environment for Player-kind.A single spawn at the world's centre. The ability of Players to chat from one end of the world to another -- even across different worlds. Even natural regeneration, an ability unique to the rarest and most powerful of mobs. As time marched on, Players not only unlocked these things but began to take them for granted, drawing far away from the behaviour of normal mobs. This became normal. Players continued to create datapacks and run commands that tweaked the very nature of the world. -@/draconic-dreams

(Shade note: Perhaps it was just a random glitch, one fundamental line of code removed to shift the balance of power. Or maybe it was orchestrated, but by who and for what purpose? Either way, it will take the Hermits a while to realize this, and even longer to fix it...if they can at all.)

- Jessasin spawned in a mesa biome, of course he's confused on how he got there and why he's in this random vanilla world and not his usual modded world, but both questions got pushed aside when the death messeges arrive. He exploared the area gathering as much recourses as he can and goes off too find someone, anyone really. - @/ghan-does-things

- hello! I discovered the scattered au literally yesterday so sorry if this is something that has already been gone over but I had an idea about bdubs, what if his constant exposure to the void and surviving on nothing but chorus fruit for who knows how long made him slightly enderman-y? 1/2 (sorry, couldn't fit the whole thing in one ask)Like nothing obvious at first, but making eye contact makes him agitated and snappy, touching water makes his skin tingle and if you look at him in the dark his eyes seem to have a very faint pink/purple glow about them? Maybe the other hermits swear he's taller than he was the last time they saw him? And the tips of his fingers are blackened, he assumes due to frostbite, but it seems to gradually be making it's way further up his hands? again sorry if this has been gone over already 2/2 - @/plantichu

- Okay so after Welsknight and Helsknight manage to get past the crazy vault door in Hels, not sure how but it probably involved a lot of cussing on Hels part and Wels saying that he never wanted to look at redstone ever again. The portal takes them to the overworld near Xisuma and Jevin. - anonymous

- (scattered au) The first set of non hermits to join this corrupt world are two strangers that apparently came from infinity's grasp. The good news they both spawned at spawn, bad news the brought the tnt duper flying machines, good news that everyone was able to calm them both down. Now the fun begins. Tldr Illmango and Methodz finally get out of the infinity portal. - anonymous

- Loving the Scattered AU. Late to the party, but was looking at the wider MC community reaction to the Hermits vanishing. Once it's clear something bad's happened, would the Legacy crew and whoever else (former Evo squad members like Martyn and Jimmy as well, if they notice Grian go dark) take steps to find out what happened? Would they go to the MCC server (it's kind of a nexus between worlds) & get Noxcrew to try "pinging" the HC server? Would X & other admins see it but be unable to respond? - @/wixelt

- I dont know if anyone has mentioned it but uhhhh, guardian xb? he was a guardian hybrid before everyone got scattered like Ren was already a wolf/dog hybrid. iirc xb spawned in a desert which would be a very interesting place for a guardian hybrid to spawn - anonymous

- Etho has been so, so desperate to avoid dying the same way twice, to stay himself. He hasn't drowned that many times, he thinks. Surely, surely he's starved more often? There's a strange feeling of deja vu hanging over him when he respawns in the ocean, though he can never understand why. Each time the squid finds him, he drowns a little slower, and each time, he glows a little stronger.And he just can't understand, almost refuses to, as he treks from biome to biome, where the small green bumps that line his arms and face came from, how his fingertips seem to almost glow when he scoops a handful of water, how long he finds himself simply staring… at the moon, at sea lanterns, at torches, at lights… He would die a different way every time. He had to. He had to stay Etho. He would not become anything else. - Anonymous

- When Mumbo comes riding into camp on Daisy, it’s easy to see Impulse is not happy about the ravager being there. That’s expected, it’s not exactly everyone’s favorite mob to see around a safe haven. But when Mumbo and Impulse make eye contact, the evoker can’t help but make a simple warding gesture his friends at the mansion taught him- it’s a reflex move. Days later, Mumbo still isn’t sure if Impulse flinched because of Daisy’s sudden growl or his ward. - @/fluffy-papaya

- (From the Discord) What happened to the world: For years, seeds and the land they built had been carefully curated by those known as players, in an effort to make it both easier and more interesting for themselves. But the land doesnt want to be controlled. Their glitched, broken world is a result of the world itself rioting against their presence. Coordinates aren't visible with the debug screen, their coms only serve the world, to tell the players what it knows. Compasses spin wildly in the overworld, for there is no "world spawn" (though coordinates are visible with one in hand. Small mercies are still given). The world resists any further changes by the simple fact it refuses to accept what a hermit communicates. Maybe it's fixable, but maybe... maybe it runs deeper than just their world. (The Legates caused a lot of damage with all those withers, after all.) - @/basaltdragon

- While Iskall is in the desert, he ends up dying quite a few times, enough to adapt, he becomes like a stray, so now, if we have skeleton Etho, we have 3 undead hermits - anonymous

- When everyone is finally gathered and they manage to come together to use all their skills, new and old, the hermits use it to flee back to Season 7. They stay there for months, mostly to heal and adjust to what happened to them. (Trauma isn't easy) Those who have friends or family off server get invited to visit, but the hermits don't leave, they nearly lost each other and they aren't willing to risk it again right now. They'll make a new season 8 at some point, the hermits are too (1/3)restless and too ingrained in their ways to completely disregard how they've always done things, but that will come when they feel better, safer, more put together, when they can finally stop sleeping in a big pile becuase they're afraid the others will disappear. They never go back to that old glitched world, the idea makes them sick, and X starts the new practice of sending in the 'Cam' and/or 'alt' accounts in first to check out the world and set up commands and plugins remotely first. (2/3) What happened before will never, ever happen again he swears it. Next time they might not be so lucky after all [if you can call them all being traumatized, many of them dying over and over again, some being permanently altered, and barely escaping lucky] (also feel free to save these asks for near the end of the au!) (3/3) - anonymous (Shade note: I personally like the idea of them fixing and learning to live in the glitched-out world, but this is another alternate ending!)

- (From the Discord) What happened to the world: Alternatively, what happened is exclusive to their world. (I don't have Dramatic Storytelling for this one, sorry) EX has ADHD to the max, and everything he does is a desperate attempt to get Noticed, to get looked up to and listened to. He's known it was "wrong" for a while, hence why he took X's name and added "Evil", but he never seriously wanted them to hurt. Just to listen to him. He'd meant to come in and fix it all and finally be a hero. He didn't realize, either through haste or inexperience, that he too would be at the mercy of what he'd done.Maybe he does, eventually, make it to where the hermits have gathered. But does he really want to admit everything? (RSD had burned him before, and if there ever was something to place the blame on his head...) - @/basaltdragon

- lasting effects of deaths

- a large amount of assorted ideas

- The bell they put on Daisy was originally of the type that are put on cats, but Grian ended up switching it out with a cowbell because he hated the sound - anonymous

- False, Keralis, Cleo, and Stress make it to spawn, bedraggled and exhausted. Out of all the Hermits, they are some of the last to arrive. Along the way, they’ve encountered trials innumerable that have left them beaten and bruised, but after months of travel, they’ve finally made it.Shortly after leaving the Moobloom field, they came upon an abandoned cart in the middle of a desolate village. With some of the redstone they had found and whatever magic they managed to scrape up, they turned it into a sort of vehicle that allowed them to travel much faster. It had a habit of breaking every six seconds or so, but nothing they couldn’t fix. For the most part. A few accidental combustions aside, they crossed the server in record time.Once at spawn, False has to be forcibly restrained from immediately starting guard duty, and several of the Hermits have to physically wrestle her into a bed in order for her to get some rest. Stress starts up a potion factory the next day, and also starts decorating the spawn with the flowers she’s collected during their travels. Keralis helps out wherever he’s needed, but in his downtime, he constructs an elaborate warren of tastefully decorated, industrial tunnels under the spawn, just in case they might help. Cleo mostly just stays in bed, creating elaborate dioramas and mourning the loss of her zombie side. She’ll get better, but it’ll take some time. And that’s ok with the rest of them. - @/topazastral

- When Doc, Grian, and Ren finally make it to 0,0 there is no fanfare, no dramtic entrance, no revulation. They were travling and suddnly, there was a base, a hermitcraft base, and they could see people. Grian clambers to feet shakily from the shed, nearly falling but Doc and Ren catch him and toghther they help him walk foward and call out to their friends. They are safe now, they're here- Is that mumbo on a ravager what the hell? Wait thats Impluse? Seems like Grian wasnt the only one changed. - anonymous

- Jellie reacting to vex!scar headcanons -she recognises him instantly. The moment she and xb arrive at spawn she darts straight towards him. Of course, she cant figure out why he looks different, but regardless, thats her owner and she demands pets!!!-sometimes she will jump up and try to pounce on his vex wings, because shiny moving thing! Scar picked up on this very quickly and will move out of the way before she gets the chance (vex wings are rather delicate and a pain to get fixed)-whe she's bored, she will always go to mumbo and daisy for attention first. This makes scar rather jealous and she knows that damn well-Scar will sometimes pick her up and fly her around not too far from spawn for a few minutes. Nothing she isnt used to, as he flys with the elytra all the time, but something about flying with vex magic just feels... different. And fun! - anonymous

- Contrary to the enderman bdubs, ender dragon bdubs. His eyes aren't the normal brown, and are instead a bright magenta, he also now has ashen gray horns. - Anonymous

- Scattered AU: The intended world "theme" Xisuma had set up for Season 8 was Large Biomes. This was before anyone knew something was going to go wrong, of course, but it's had a horrible lasting effect in the glitched world. Not everywhere has generated as "large", so when Hermits are travelling they'll sometimes find normal sized biomes, and other times they'll find one biomes that stretches an abnormal distance in all directions. Grian and Doc's mountain range is one of these large biomes. - @/wixelt

- For the scattered au, the snow golem follows Grian and Ren (and Doc) to the spawn haven, for a few days the hermits are wondering what's leaving behind snow trails and zombie flesh, so they decide to have a night watch around this area. Ren volunteered and waited, half-asleep he nearly nearly gets hit with a arrow when he hears the sound of a skeleton getting hurt. He sees the snow golem and uses his sword to kill the skeleton. The snow golem tries to flee but Ren realizes and stops it (1/2)He welcomes the snow golem and introduces it to Grian and Doc, (where the snow golem warns him that it is keeping its eyes on him in its own language). Spooked, Grian tells them that he can understand it, and the golem tells him that he's been following them since their time at the mountain. They decide to give it the name Catmint and it helps guard the hermit's base at night (while giving a stern look at Doc every now and then.(2/2) - anonymous

- (Scattered au)Seeing as we now have 3 different variations of Etho, I raise you: all 3 at once. It turns out Etho was not in fact human, instead a shapeshifter who didn't know that he was, the deaths simply sped up the process, whereas before, while he would change slightly, it was never fast enough to be noticeable - Anonymous

- I had this idea some time ago actually but I thought it was silly but now that the au in ending might as well say it. It doesn't make much sense now with all the new development srry. What if one day Mumbo was callibrating his comunication monstrosity, and suddenly his communicator had signal. He called and called but whoever was a the other side didn't pick up, until they did and Mumbo was overjoyed, but the happiness died down when he could only hear chocked sobs and sharp breathing and (1)teeth chattering. Suddenly a voice whispered, little and fragile "h-h-he-lp". Mumbo knew that voice too well. Before he could even open his mouth to let his best friend he was coming for him, he'd be okay, anything, the breathing stopped. The call was still going, but no one was at the other side anymore, Mumbo hung up with tears in his eyes, and he swore he'd find him and he'd help him. (2) - anonymous

- Scattered AU: While there's still time for them: Mumbo was the furthest Hermit out in the Overworld, & didn't set off for over a year, yet wasn't last to 0,0 (with Iskall) by any stretch. More than half the Hermits seemed to arrive after him. This can be partly attributed to Daisy making good time, but it makes you wonder how many trials & tribulations impeded False, Stress, Cleo and Keralis along the way? How much Ren, Doc & Grian were slowed by Grian's condition? What took xB or Biffa so long? - @/wixelt

- Once everyone finds each other, at the world spawn, after the initial shock, and fixing of the world of course, the hermits all decide to settle much closer to each other. They were separated for quite a while, so it makes sense why they'd decide to keep close. Some groups also make shared bases. - anonymous

- I sort of want grian to be a bit more inhuman so how about grian’s skin on his arms, legs and most of his face permanently blackened by the severe frostbite and the rest of his skin has taken on a bluish tinge, his hair is no longer the Gold it was before but almost snow white with a tinge of dark and light blue, his ears and tail are snow white with what appears to be frost and ice growing on them (1/2)(2/2) grian can not cry because the tears will immediately turned to ice, he can’t swim because if his body touches the water the water will freeze over, his skin is cold to the touch and whatever he moves his body it will make a cracking sounds like breaking glass or smashing ice, no matter how warm it is he can always see his breath... i’m trying to think of more but I’m coming up blank so that’s it hope you like it. - anonymous

- bc i cant stand when cleo is unhappy: the moment she and joe reunite, joe realizes how horrible it is for her to have her body messed with against her will. and as an admin, he can modify her code to put her back to how she was in previous seasons (aka not totally rabid but still undead) - anonymous

- Admins log final day: I'm glad we'll all be able to wake up from this nightmare, and we're able to get an exit portal going thanks to Mango and Methodz having a backup of the key to open the infinity portal's power, we should be able to not only go back in time, but destroy this broken timeline. Were all grateful for them, and I did invite them both to help us incace this happens again. This will be the last day in this timeline, if you somehow found this helmet with these logs, thank you. :-) - anonymous

- Grian, Doc, and Ren find it hard to stay away from each other too long, especially Doc and Ren becuase they've been taking care of Grian for such a long time so they find themselves kinda hovering over him and Grian finds himself seeking them out even when he's with other hermits. The other groups, who've been toghther for awhile, do it too probs - anonymous

- Soon as Grian and Mumbo see each other, they launch themselves at the other and hold on for a long, long time. Iskall join in soon as he wanders by and they talk for hours about what happened, looking over Grian's new fox parts and the blue marks on his hands, Mumbo gray stained hands and magic, and just Iskalls overall experience. Also Grian's little fox buddy absolutely loves Daisy and vice versa. Its not uncommon to see the small fox riding on the ravager's back while Daisy scares people. - Anonymous

- I know I'm a bit out of loop w scattered au & is probably getting things wrong but consider this, when Mumbo accidentally summoned Scar, leaving Bdubs alone, Bdubs freaked out. The very person that meant rescue & hope for him back in the end is now gone, he felt like he's back into the void again and he thought Scar abandoned him because he's too weak & is a burden to Scar. (Yes I am currently drowning in Scardubs angst) - @/anthosaidsmth

- The glitches in the world didn't only happen to the Hermits, it happened to all worlds created in 1.17. The cause remains unknown, though it is believed that something or even someone corrupted/changed the code (what/who is up to imagination. In the case of the latter, so is the motive). My idea, we've already confirmed that Watchers are arrogant jerks so perhaps they couldn't stand the fact that players learned to do things against the rules that they put in place, and did this out of spite. - anonymous

- A bit late but I see all the Fox!Grian headcannons so what if Grian spawned in a jungle and slowly became a parrot hybrid instead? How idk, maybe resorting to eating seeds to prevent himself from starvation because there is no animals in this jungle.

- Here's a thought: The Hels!Hermits were also effected by whatever caused the scattering. They may all hate or annoy each other, but not having each other around to pick on isn't very fun (neither are death loops). Perhaps some of them gain humility over this or learn to be at least a bit nicer to each other and their counterparts. (or some of them find sadistic amusement in their counterpart's miseries) - anonymous

- Finally, once everyone has made it safely to spawn and the problems with the world have been resolved, the season begins. Some of the Hermits may have changed (more than just physically) but over time, they adapt and recover. Grian eventually starts yet ANOTHER war, Tango gets to build DO 2.0 (X is terrified at the fact wardens are involved), and Cleo becomes a coach on 'how to be a mob hybrid' (unless all new hybrids get returned to how they were before by admin powers or just being players). - anonymous

- With all the glitches fixed and all the hermits starting to get back to their normal (Well as normal as it can be after all of these), I wonder if Scar is still a vex. All the hermits just adapted to their situations, but Scar is different, he made a deal with the Vex. - @/anthosaidsmth

- It takes all of the hermits that changed a while to get used to the changes, but eventually they do, mostly through help and support from the other hermits - anonymous

- I had a wee idea and it's a little silly but I like hurt/comfort so maybe after all the scattered au events have passed and the hermits are all together living safely, every winter some hermits invite Grian to their bases to take care of him since the snow and the cold are very bad for him. Sometimes he gets fevers but most of the time he just needs a warm blanket and someone to distract him from the snow. This is also making me wonder if Grian could develop chinophobia (fear of the snow). - Anonymous

- conclusion

Art:

- An Evoker Mumbo

- Evoker Mumbo with Daisy

- Evoker Mumbo summoning Scar

- a Guardian Impulse

- assorted doodles here and here

- A two-part Impulse comic

Writing:

- some Etho lore come back to haunt him (pt 1)

- Cleo sharing mob-hybrid tips with Impulse

- Executioner

- Fish out of water

- Homesick

- Thalassophobia

- The General's Wager (pt 2)

- The Undertow

- Saviors

- Bdubs falling

- For lack of blue shiny rocks (pt 3)

- conclusion (pt 4)

- EX in the Deep Dark

- this road I'm on's gonna turn to sand

- Snapshots

- a multi-chapter Scattered interpretation written just before the real season 8, complete with some outside lore and crossover

- Scattered Across The Map (series of parallel multi-chapter fics)

- One Hundred Thousand Worlds Away

#hcraft #hermitcraftheadcanons #hermitcraft #hermitblr #scattered au #mod shade #Masterpost

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alcxandros · 4 years

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After the events of the game, Rinoa was having a hard time with everything that occurred - as far back as Ultimecia guised as Edea attempting to publicly execute her, to becoming possessed herself, becoming a sorceresses, her force junction with Adel, Seifer’s betrayal, being placed in the Memorial, Time Compression, being out of control of her powers and the world damning her for her new existence. To a girl with ambitions but was ultimately not trained nor anywhere near prepared for everything that was going to come, this - understandably, took a severe blow to her mental health.

Though while she was determined to make the best of her situation, she was not anywhere prepared to handle when Esthar came knocking with a contract that would have fatal consequences if it wasn’t signed. Already feeling defeated and cornered and terrified, Rinoa agreed to it without argument. At the time of being seventeen and already traumatized, she felt it was better to not make waves and give the public more reasons to hate her, and this way she and Squall could be together. In her mental state and fear, she would have agreed to almost anything. Esthar took advantage of that.

Unfortunately Rinoa became conditioned into passivity to events happening to her, no matter how much she hated it. When she thinks about pushing back, she remembers Esthar’s soldiers waiting for her outside of the Ragnarok, armed and ready to take her peacefully or not. She remembers being marched away, thanked for her understanding and compliance, and of course.. when she was sealed. Alone, helpless, terrified, and without hope. Her life was over.

It didn’t take long for her life to still feel over, once the realization of what she signed sank into her every day life. Squall, naturally, was the person she went to for all of her grief. He listened until she was done, changed what was in his power without causing grief could change. At some point though, Rinoa could see the toll she alone was taking on him, making things complicated in other areas of his life, and her distress distressed him. She hated it - so slowly, she began hiding it. Focusing on other things, picking up hobbies, planning fun dates, spicing up the bedroom. Rinoa tapped into the ghost of herself, attempting to revert back to a version that was long gone even though she could play pretend.

It wasn’t that she didn’t enjoy their good moments - she very much did and treasured them. But more than not it was a performance, and the happier the moments, the more her genuine feelings were buried for the sake of trying to find happiness in their situation with the man she loved.

After a number of years of this being forged, she didn’t realize how bad things were becoming and how many secrets she was keeping. First it was her feelings. Then it was sneaking out of Garden. Resentment started to form anytime Esthar reinforced something new to cage her in further for Squall to ultimately conclude it was out of his hands and it was best to not push it least things are made worse. Discouraged, she would quit pressing, and started escaping more frequently. She hated being inside Garden, but time with him spent outside of it began feeling like she was a pet on a leash than them as a normal couple.

These problems would bubble to the surface. Tensions and problems were already present with passive aggression being the primary way she knew how to communicate how unhappy she was and communication, something she was formally good at, had developed into a trying task. Communication meant facing even a fraction of everything she has built up for years to hide for her sanity and their relationship, desperately trying to live as a ghost while inside she’s screaming. It isn’t something she easily knows how to do anymore, and attempts are forced to come out in other ways.

She has lost control before, becoming reduced to screaming and crying in hysterics while breaking apart collections, punching walls or the ground until her knuckles bled or even broke, to even hitting Squall if there’s an attempt to restrain her even for her own safety ( though this doesn’t last long and she latches onto him after a brief struggle with her meltdown continuing in sobbing hysterics until she runs out of energy ). These incidences have thus far been isolated and not leaked to anyone who was unfortunate enough to bare witness, though are a clear indication of a much bigger problem that is not being addressed.

Her breaking point came when Esthar came to Garden to implement multiple devices that would null her powers within a radius, which with a few of them being placed within Garden, would render the entire place as ‘sorceress proof’. Rinoa relies heavy on her magic and sorceress abilities to be able to escape and get back inside Garden, and her window to the outside world she snuck in and out of being sealed cause a rightful panic. Esthar sold this to Garden by stating it was in the best interest of Garden, so no one or property or Rinoa herself could be in danger of her powers as she is on record still struggling quite a bit with them. At face value, it didn’t look like a bad idea. Rinoa wasn’t supposed to even be using magic or her powers outside of strict supervision anyway, so as Esthar put it - ‘she can be a normal young woman in here’.

She begged Squall that this was too far and it wasn’t fair and this wasn’t anywhere in their contract. She agreed for them to run testing on her and to be used to create technology - not that they would follow her to Garden to force that technology she helped create back onto her. However, there is nothing saying the couldn’t either, and not wanting to make waves and hurt the continued bulding relationship between Garden and Esthar, it was out of what he was willing to do and likely also not seeing it as the big deal to her that it was, as he was unaware at this point she had been escaping.

This set Rinoa into a panic and desperate to escape Garden regardless of the cost. Outwardly, trying to hold composure though still obviously upset, she backed down from Squall without fighting nearly as much as she wanted to - both from feeling hopeless and his mind wouldn’t change, and that she was already trying to figure out how to get the hell out of here. Storming away from him ( which isn’t unusual of her to do when upset and often means to leave her alone for a while ), Rinoa beelined for the garage. There was one she distinctly recognized as Seifer’s, knowing it too well on the rare occasions he came here for reasons unknown to her. She also know he lives far, far from here, and he does not stay in Garden long at all. Rinoa attempts to phase into his vehicle though Odine’s technology had already been installed in multiple locations around Garden, the garage being one of them. The next attempt to get inside was by breaking in, trying to shimmy in something to get the door unlocked from the inside.

That’s where Seifer caught her, pulling her away from his car and acting as a barrier between her and it. Be damned if he’s going to smuggle a sorceress he, by his parole, is not allowed to be near, and be sent back to prison to rot. After aruging, begging, and promising once she’s out and far enough she will leave him alone - something with her pleas convinced Seifer to relent - begrudgingly, and take her with him.

It was decided she would leave at night to ensure she’d be undetected. Tensions between them slowly lowering, Rinoa finally explaining what was being done and why she was desperate to get out - along with an apology at forcing his hand. animosity between them - that magnet pole switched to repel, was beginning to switch back to that undeniable pull that - years later - still drew them into one another.

Rinoa was gathering her things without haste, body language ( bending down with intention to get attention on her backside, chevage more exposed with intent, playing with her hair, locking eye contact, ect ) coming from Rinoa to pull Seifer in if he wanted. It’s a horrible mistake she feels compelled to make, still angry and grief-stricken at feeling about Squall’s lack of support, understanding, and his agreeing to secure more bars around her cage.

As HMR put it brilliantly

I can imagine part of her just feels like tearing apart everything that is frustrating her, part of which is her relationship with Squall, so she just self destructs in a way

Back against the wall, bag in hand, she is taking her time in leaving to which Seifer isn’t seeming to mind, closing into her space while not getting too close, too aware this was a bad idea, of her sorceresses abilities, of Ultimecia’s thrall that ticked into his brain. But he comes closer, not so much that she’s pressed to the wall by him, but desire cannot, and would not, be ignored. Once she is more sure he will accept than reject, but still moving slowly, Rinoa moves on her tip toes to reach his lips with hers, holding for a few seconds with stilled breath at what would happen next.. for eventually his hands to move up, gently taking her face between his hands, and kiss her.

“Slow.”

#i write to calm down when i'm upset #enjoy

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hellzyeahthewebwieldingavenger · 5 years

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Peter David’s 2010s Spider-Man 2099 run. Some quick thoughts.

Now I’ve finally read through every (and I do mean every) instalment in PAD’s 2010s 2099 work I want to share some brief thoughts about it over all.

It’s flawed basically. Fundamentally broken? You know what arguably so. But...whilst it was going on...it was unquestionably among the best material the Spider-Man line was putting out. At times it was simply THE best.

Given we were suffering through Spider-Verse, then Parker Industries (along with Clone Conspiracy, Power Play and all that rotten shit) that’s a low bar I know.

But that’s why I can’t simply dismiss this run (let’s call it a run for brevity’s sake) out of hand. At a time when Peter Parker was broken, when so much bad material was being put out, this 2099 work was at worst...flawed.

Just about the biggest sin it committed was seemingly fridging Tempest at the start of volume 3 and putting Miguel in an ugly looking costume that ripped off Batman Beyond. There were other sins (see my post regarding the final arcs regarding the confusing time travel and lack of pay off to stuff).

But PAD was at least trying to deliver something of substance, trying to give us stakes, and often times he delivered on it.

Miguel O’Hara as a character always shined though.

This was a time when:

· Peter Parker was unrecognizable

· The only recognizable Peter Parker was off in an alternate universe with a Spider-Family

· Spider-Gwen and Miles were great ideas being bungled

· The Web Warriors was wasting decent-great characters (often over simplifying them)

· Silk was slowly but surely being reconstructed into a character worth a damn

· Flash as Venom was stuck with Guardians and Space Knight bullshit

· Brock had become Venom again but no one knew what else to do with him afterwards

· Cheap variant Spider-Man actions figures were thrown against the wall to see what would stick

During these dark days, Miguel O’Hara was by far the most consistent Spider character around. Not just consistent, well defined. Maybe he didn’t change all that much (arguably). But there was never a moment you felt his character was off the mark. You never felt he was mere surface level.

Amidst the above chaos Peter David and Will Sliney kept Miguel steady and sure, effortlessly illustrating to us that he wasn’t a typical do gooder and absolutely not Peter Parker. Miguel as a character didn’t fit neatly into the box of hero, nor anti-hero. He was a man undeniably on the side of the angels but also undeniably not one of them.

The same might not have been true of every other character they presented to readers, but none of them were awful and most of them were likable. Even when their characters were mostly surface level, PAD’s inventiveness allowed for fun futuristic spins on familiar characters and so you wouldn’t mind seeing more of them!

More than this, at a time when diversity and representation were hot button topics within the comic book community, this run delivered on that in subtle and organic ways.

Miguel himself was a person of colour. So was his love interest. Arguably his staff too, one of which was a queer woman. There was a dwarf as a recurring character, a musclebound Hispanic/Latina (sorry I’m british, I’m not clear on the distinction and the comic never spells it out either) woman as practically the partner of our protagonist and that’s not even diving into all the 2099 versions of familiar characters.

The cruel irony of this is that I’ve never seen anyone in the course of discussions regarding diversity or what not bring up this run.

Maybe that’s a testament to the craftsmanship in play. Because it never occurred to me that the series had that much diversity, representation, etc until after the fact. Whilst reading it, they were just decent-great characters.

I’m not suggesting that stuff excuses the flaws in the series of course.

Speaking of the flaws I’ve kind of levelled some of it against PAD, but I think Marvel themselves are owed at least half the blame.

Marvel’s obnoxious insistence upon events directly or indirectly caused this series to have to pivot more than once. It built up steady steam for 4 issues before being derailed for 4-6, then having to wrap stuff up in two before being put on hiatus. One relaunch and 5 more issues later we’re doing an Inhumans thing for another 2 issues, then 5 more issues later we have to do another 4 part event tie-in.

PAD is consummate enough to have turned some of these into strengths, but we can only dream about how much more he might’ve accomplished if he wasn’t derailed at all. Shit, the post-Secret Wars volume might’ve had to change course to accommodate the Parker Industries garbage too!

Were I to rank some of the stand out arcs it’d go something like:

1) Vol 2 #1-4. In my view, this is top to bottom simply the best arc of the entire thing, which isn’t me damning the rest of the run. The set up for the status quo is there. The establishment of the protagonist and supporting players is sleek and efficient. There is super hero action, clever subversions and sharp dialogue. I don’t dislike the rest of the series but in all honesty, these first 4 issues represent a direction that could have, and probably should have been compared to what we got.

2) Vol 2. #6-7. Miguel in the future, which is what the series frankly should always have been.

3) Secret Wars 2099: Avengers 2099 vs. Defenders 2099. PAD and Sliney essentially found logical gaps in the original 2099 titles from the 1990s and organically filled them with fun reinventions of classic characters.

4) Vol 3. #10-12: Probably the highlight of the third volume and a clever way of integrating the lore of 2099 into the status quo of a Miguel situated in the present day. Fanservice for old school 2099 fans for sure!

5) Vol. 3 #13-16: Every once in a while a miracle happens and a mandated event tie-in story winds up being a fun time. This is such a miracle. More than any arc, this one truly celebrates the 2099 universe cast of characters and delivers a fun ride!

And an honourable mention to the final issue, Vol.3 #25. For all it’s flaws it succinctly showcases for you Miguel O’Hara’s personality.

So that’s it, I’m all caught up and fully primed for the 2019 Marvel 2099 event!

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mystblbk · 5 years

Text

Chavela Valdes--Chapter 4

JULIANA POV

I’m still shocked as I unlock the door locks to the house. I feel the sharp edges of the green bill press onto my skin with each step I take into the house. Once inside, I can hear my mom cooking dinner while Milagros chats with her or I suppose grills her as she has taken to do now that Panchito visited twice since our arrival.

“Juli,” my mom gasps in relief as she sees me, “Thank god! I told you not to leave alone! Are you okay?”

“I’m fine mom,” I roll my eyes and kiss her cheek, “It went well, I even went around and got some extra money.”

At the sound of money, Milagros opens her mouth with a half-glare. I raise my hand to shut her up and turn to the pocket of my guitar case. The bulge looks bigger than it did before I met Lucia, so I cautiously open it.

“What,” my mom gapes.

Out of the pocket comes out a pair of new Chucks. The fabric’s color is black and has a multitude of colorful stars decorating the surface. I take out the Chucks and examine them with wide eyes.

Miss Lucia…

A grin forms on my face as I look inside to see the tag.

Size nine.

The simple act of holding the shoes triggers the tears that had been boiling in my eyes since the woman guided me to her SUV. I can feel hot tears spill and run down my cheeks as I let out a happy laugh. After a moment of basking in this simple gesture, I wipe the tears off my face and look up at the two shocked women. I simply smile at them and put the shoes in an empty chair.

“Where did you get those,” my mom says gently.

“I met this very kind woman,” I tell them, “She had me accompany her on her shopping trip. She paid me and must have snuck the shoes in my bag. Anyway, I have some of the money Doña Milagros.”

My left hand uncurls, and the hundred-dollar bill appears. I put the bill on the table and slowly pull out the rest of the money I earned during the day. I pull out the two hundred pesos Salvador gave me for the day followed by the almost five hundred I gained from playing at the three cemeteries I went to. Next, I count out the tips from playing inside the buses I took and the shops I played along the way.

“I think I have most of it,” I mumble as I start counting again, “If I keep at it tomorrow after practice, I’ll get you a little more than half by Sunday afternoon, Doña Milagros.”

The woman stays quiet as I hand her one-third of the rent, making sure to keep some for tomorrow’s journey. The woman takes the money and then quietly stares at it. I watch patiently for a moment until she looks back up.

“You remind me of Panchito,” she sighs, “That boy worked hard to help his mother and sisters. If he hadn’t gotten a job during high school, my sister would have lived on the streets with all her children.”

For some reason being compared to the kind, man makes my chest tighten. It's a bittersweet feeling to be compared to such a kind man and not my father. I nod with a polite smile and look back at my mother.

“I’ll pay this month’s rent, okay? This way you can buy some new clothes and food,” I tell her, “Next month we’ll pay half each so we can have leftovers for whatever we need.”

My mom stares, her eyes shining bright with an emotion I can’t really decode just yet. She walks around the table to me and pulls me into a hug and kissing my cheek.

“My strong girl,” she whispers in my ear, “What did I do to deserve you, Mija?”

I sigh and let her hug me for a moment. As I bask in my mother’s affection, Milagros looks to have changed her mood as she stands quietly and continues cooking what mom started. Once mom is ready, she lets go and tells me to go wash up. I grin at her and take my shoes with me. I can’t stop staring at the new Chucks, completely touched that a woman I only met had bought them for me. I put the shoes and my guitar on my side of the room before heading to the bathroom.

Good day today.

Almost as good as yesterday…

The night goes by mostly quietly and quickly. I practice some more before going to bed early for the night. My mother doesn’t bring up the shoes neither the money, she just hugs me and tells me she’ll be home later the next morning. She turns off the light as she goes to work as I close my eyes to allow myself to rest for the night.

_______________________________________________________.

LÚCIA POV

I sit staring at the mural by the long bar area, a group of gallant mariachis playing underneath a window and a sea of stars. The sounds of chattering are dispersed among the other customers as I wait for my stepdaughter to show up. The young waitress attending to me, Carla, walks up with a plate in hand and smiles kindly at me.

“Another refill, ma'am,” the waitress asks as she places a new dish filled with pan dulce.

“Yes, ple—”

“Traffic.”

I look over Carla's shoulder and see Eva standing there with a scowl on her beautiful face. I smile kindly at her as Carla moves and rushes over to get Eva situated. A few minutes pass as the other two women discuss Eva's order then the waitress leaves us alone. Eva remains quiet, piercing blue eye staring at me. She finally sighs audibly and nods reluctantly. I feel the dared I kept behind closed doors shine through with a frown. With that nod I am confirmed what I have feared for the past month—Johnny is definitely involved with Léon’s murder.

“You're right,” she sneers, “As much as I hate to say it, you’re right. He’s been doing transactions using the company name, large transactions. He’s also now acting like he owns the company; he’s forcing our reporters to follow certain companies and public figures that he knows. Mateo said he’s pushing for his friends’ shining image instead of their truth and even scolded him and his co-workers after they wrote a piece on one of his friends. We need to work together. But, what do we do now? Can we do anything?”

I take a sip of my coffee and sigh, “We have a few choices. One is to let him think he won. I’ll flirt with that man, while you and Guille openly oppose him.”

Eva's jaw tightness, obviously displeased by this, “And the other choices?”

I look up and stare into her eyes, “We add Valentina to the board, she, after all, is of age and can take my place while I move up to take Léon's. All four of us will have enough leverage to have him kicked off the board. The only other way is to buy him out and to be honest, I don’t want to give him any more of your father’s money.”

Eva's jaw moves from left to right, grinding her teeth in anger and thought. I leave her to her thoughts as Carla bring Eva's drink and our food. I peer up to the other woman and feel a sharp pull at watching my husband’s actions mirrored in his oldest. I sigh and take a bite of my eggs then clear my voice.

“I promised your father I would care for all three of you when I agreed to marry him,” I speak up, gaining Eva’s attention, “I promised to keep you safe and happy that day. I love all three of you, no matter how much you showered me your anger. I want to keep you three safe, but at your decision and direction. Tell me what to do Eva. I have the most pull as his wife—but I won’t make a move until you allow me to and direct me to.”

The brunette stares at me for a second then sighs heavily. It’s as if all the weight of the world leaves her at that moment. Her eyes lighten and her shoulders sag a little. I watch as the tight expression melts and her face relaxes into a sad smile.

“I’m sorry,” Eva murmurs.

I open my mouth, but she raises a hand for me to stop.

“I spent too long fighting with you instead of enjoying my father’s happiness after so many years of sadness,” Eva sighs again, “I'm not your biggest fan yet Lucia, but I'll give you this chance and the benefit of the doubt. I don’t want to further rift us all apart, Johnny is doing that well enough by himself. I do see how much you care for my siblings and I’m truly grateful for the care you have had for Val and Guille. I, however, will take more time to come around.”

I smile, “I understand Eva. I just don’t want what your father has built to be destroyed by a man who called himself Léon's closest friend.”

Eva nods, “Agreed.”

We remain quiet while we each eat the food that Carla brings us. I let out a small moan of satisfaction as I chew my food, content with eating my breakfast. A chuckle directs me to my stepdaughter, her smirk is playful for once, so I smile back.

“It’s really good,” Eva smiles, “How’d you find this place?”

A memory comes to my mind as I smile sadly to Eva, “I was a waitress part time here. After I got off at Grupo Carvajal I would come work here in the evenings.”

Eva raises an eyebrow, “You worked here? How long?”

I shake my head, “Until your father had me promoted. I brought him here once too. He enjoyed the chiles rellenos.”

Eva smiles then looks down to her plate. I slowly take one of her hands and squeeze it with understanding. Eva looks up and nods at me. We stay there communicating though stares when the sound of guitar strings echoes through the restaurant. I let go of Eva’s hand and turn to the open space in the middle of the room.

Sitting on a metal stool is a young woman with her back turned to us. I furrow my eyebrows as she continues to play a few scales then finally turns around and sits on the metal stool that is placed near a microphone.

“Juliana,” I gasp.

“Do you know her,” Eva asks next to me.

I blink then turn to Eva with a confused nod. I tell Eva how I met the young woman. How I met her at Léon's grave playing for tips at the graveyard. Eva’s expression changes from surprise to sadness than to understanding. The woman in front of me glances over at Juliana as I tell her about the other woman’s struggles.

“So, her father was working with the wrong crowd. He got into a bad business deal and as a consequence, she and her mother ended up here to avoid getting involved,” Eva summarized, “That’s terrible. At least you were able to help her in some way. She looks to be in better spirits, from what I can guess she was before.”

I look over to Juliana. The girl is still skinny and scrappy but not as bad as a few weeks ago when I first met her. As I look over what she’s wearing a smile grows on my face, she’s wearing the shoes bought for her. Today she’s wearing a checkered shirt that was in a multitude of orange shades. Her jeans were a bit faded, but it works well with the shirt. I watch with a smile as Juliana goes through a riff then begins playing a familiar song in an acoustic form. Her smooth voice starts singing after a beautiful little rift and commands the attention of all the other customers in the room.

Yo quiero luz de luna para mi noche triste

Para cantar divina la ilusión que me trajiste

Para sentirte mía, mía tú como ninguna

Pues desde que te fuiste no he tenido luz de luna

“Wow,” I hear next to me, “She’s really good Lúcia.”

I give Eva a grin and nod, “I know, but to be honest I think her calling is elsewhere.”

“Oh,” Eva asks with a raised eyebrow.

I nod again, “Do you remember the red dress I wore last week at the art gallery?”

She nods.

“I took Juliana shopping with me that day, to carry my bags so I could have an excuse to give her money,” I explain, “Well, I asked her to help me pick a dress when we went to Paloma's shop.”

Eva's eyebrows raise high as she speaks up, “You mean she picked out that outfit for you?”

I nod happily, “She’s got quite a few talents that girl.”

Eva's mystified look goes to Juliana then to me. I try to hold back a laugh as Eva examines the young woman from afar. I could understand Eva's confusion but at the same time, I knew that Juliana is a young girl with good tastes influenced by social media and the like.

“Maybe…”

I gaze at Eva as she mumbles again this time inaudible.

“Maybe she could help me,” Eva speaks up, “I have a photo shoot coming up during my meeting with a media company from the States.”

“You want to hire her,” I ask bewildered.

“Well you just gave her a sparkling review,” Eva smiles, “Besides, a young woman should be out enjoying her youth or going to school and not worrying about having a roof over her head. I think this will help her along and even give her a little push in the right direction.”

A warmth spreads in my chest at Eva’s words, Léon’s voice echoes in my ears as it does.

She’s kind. Much more then you would think, Lucia.

Eva and I continue eating as Juliana sings with her guitar. The songs she chose were popular songs but in acoustic form. It seems that in the past month her skills have developed fairly quickly as I notice how easily she went through each song, so easily that she even added small solos to the pieces with flair. As our entertainer’s set dwindled to the last song, I turn to Eva and raise an expectant eyebrow. My stepdaughter nods back at me once. Satisfied with her answer, I turn back to the guitarist as she sings the last phrases of the song.

________________________________________________________.

JULIANA POV

The last song echoes in the restaurant as I pluck the last measures. I smile to myself with the satisfaction of another good performance. With a happy sigh, I look up from my fingerboard and grin out at my audience. My smile freezes as my eyes catch a familiar figure applauding with the others.

Miss Lúcia.

I try not to let my surprise and confusion appear on my face as I turn to the microphone and thank my audience for their attention. I slowly stand and pull my guitar over my back and clean up my area. As I work I can feel two pairs of eyes bore onto my back, one heavy and the other kind.

I glance over my shoulder and subtly look at the woman next to Miss Lúcia. She’s around the same height as me with dark brown hair that looked almost black. Her face is beautiful with bright blue eyes that could only compare with another pair I had seen a month ago. Her expression is neutral but I could see small frown lines at the edges of her eyes and mouth, showing she’s clearly not one for smiling as much.

Who is that woman that’s with her?

She looks familiar, somehow?

A tap on my shoulder derails my train of thought and I’m forced to turn to address the person. A pretty woman that looked to be in her late twenties stands in front of me wearing a bright floral pink dress. Her brights mile is patient but a sparkle in her eye puts me on edge somehow. I suddenly recognize her as a regular here at the restaurant, she tends to come every morning with another woman and a pair of men. I wait for the brunette to speak trying to calm myself enough to follow along with her rapid Spanish.

“Hola,” the woman says smiling at me, “I really enjoyed your music today.”

“Hola,” I smile back politely, “Si, gracias. I’m happy you enjoyed it.”

“Well I have something for your hard work,” the woman says as she pushes something into my hand.

I try to process what the woman says but the weight of the two-hundred peso bill sitting heavily in my hand confuses me as she usually only gives me twenty. I shake my head and look up with surprise, the woman simply smiles with a sparkle in her eye.

I blink slowly, “Uhm, thank you, ma’am.”

“No problem,” the woman grins, “I looked forward to seeing you tonight with your band. Some of my friends from out of state are here and are excited to see why my girlfriends and I are crazy about coming to eat here.”

I blink, “Oh? You and your girlfriends? Is that so? Well, I’m not really much…”

The woman smiles, “Actually—you have this air about you... it's rather magnetic. You leave us all speechless every time…"

The woman then looks me over slowly, from head to toe then back up again. The action causes me to stand up straighter with my shoulders broad, a posture I have taken to fall into when playing in front of a crowd. Over her shoulder, I see the other three women that accompany here watching our interactions with knowing smiles and raised eyebrows. I quickly look back at the woman in front of me and see a seductive smirk-eyebrow-combo directed at me.

With a cough, I force out a response, “Well, I’m sure most entertainers have to have a type of magnetic energy.”

“Well, yours is special,” the girl says with another charming smile.

I nod trying and try not to blush at the attention I’m receiving, “Well thank you, ma’am, for the compliment and the tip. I hope you and your friends have a good day.”

“Seeing how it started,” she tilts her head to the side with burning eyes, “I’m sure it will be.”

I stare wide-eyed as she turns around and walks back to her table. As she reaches it the other three girls embrace her and start chatting while glancing over at me. They speak for a few seconds then as one they all leave with a few glances back at me.

I blush while watching the group of women leave with comments about the ‘sexy guitarist’. I stay staring at the exit until a few other people walk up and compliment me and give me a tip. I thank them and tell them about the nightly performances I participate in at as they each leave as well. Once the majority of the people have left, I look down at the cup of bills I had received with a small smile. A quick look though tells me that I have another large chunk for my half of the rent for next month, a blessing as my mother had to leave her first job after running into Alacran’s goons a few nights ago. I sigh and think about all that has happened to us until a tap on my shoulder brakes my sulking.

“You did well.”

I turn around and see Miss Lúcia smiling at me. Her hair is up in an elegant bun making her look younger and she’s wearing a familiar sundress like the other woman, this one a golden yellow. Her deep red lipstick makes her bright hazel eyes pop even more. In less than a second, I’m back into our playful banter from a month ago.

“Nice dress,” I respond with a smirk, “You’ve got good taste.”

The older woman laughs, “Yes, well my stylist does actually.”

“Ah,” I playfully roll my eyes, “Of course you rich people can afford stylists.”

Lúcia laughs again but this time pulls me in for a careful hug as to not make me drop my tip cup. Her warm embrace soothes me just like my mother’s do. I allow the woman to hug me for a while then let go. I smile at the blonde, happy to see her again.

“Will you please join me,” the widow asks, “I have someone you have to meet.”

I look over the woman’s shoulder and see the brunette patiently waiting at the table Lúcia left a moment ago. I nod slowly and turn quickly around to place my earning inside my guitar’s pocket. Once my money is secure, I take my guitar and allow Lúcia to direct me to her table. The other woman seems to sit just a bit straighter, her posture almost painful to look at, and watch as we approach.

“Eva, this is Juliana,” Miss Lucia says with a wave towards me, “Juliana this is Eva, my step-daughter. She works at her father’s company.”

I smile politely and offer my hand for her to shake, “It’s a pleasure, Miss Eva. I hope you enjoyed the food and my attempt at entertainment.”

Eva’s harsh expression shifts to a soft one as she looks me over and finally takes my hand to shake. Her hand is soft against my calloused one but she says nothing and I bow my head down as a sign of respect. This small gesture catches her off guard for a second and it shows on her face until she schools her features again.

“Yes, it’s nice to meet you, Juliana,” Eva nods while letting go of my hand, “You are actually quite talented. Lúcia says you helped sort out her wardrobe?”

I blush and glance over at the older woman. Lúcia smiles encouragingly and I turn back to Eva.

“Yes, ma’am. I helped her and she was kind enough to pay me for my suggestions,” I turn to the blonde, “Thank you so much for the help, again. I wish I could pay you back in a better way than just saying ‘thank you.’”

Lúcia smiles and shakes her head, “No, Juliana. It's alright, don’t worry. God’s blessing towards me and my family is more than enough of a repayment.”

I nod, completely not understanding the Catholic saying as my mother and Chino had only practiced faith in La Muerte, but still happy that she sees this as an act of karma.

“Well, Juliana,” Eva calls to me so I turn to her, “I was hoping you could help me as well? I have a photo shoot in a few days and need a stylist to help pick my clothes for the day, someone to keep theirs on their toes. I have many things to concentrate on and my secretary can only do so much. Do you think you can help me?”

I stare at the brunette, “But I’m not a professional stylist or anything…”

“You picked Lúcia’s dress, this yellow one and a red one correct,” Eva asks.

“Yes—”

“Then I have faith in you,” Eva nods.

I look between both women then look back at Eva, “If you’re sure ma’am. I’ll be happy to help.”

Eva smiles then, a soft but satisfied one, “Good. How does tonight sound?”

I furrow my eyebrows, “I'm sorry. I can’t tonight.”

The women share a look.

“Why not Juliana,” Lúcia asks kindly.

“Well,” I sigh, “I play tonight actually. I can do tomorrow since it’s my day off.”

“You play tonight,” Eva asks while pointing at the table, “Here?”

I nod, “Yes ma’am, for dinner service. I play every other day here, in the morning and evening. The weekends are mostly free unless we get a gig, those are usually weddings or quinceñeras.”

Eva looks at Lúcia again then turns back to me, “Well alright, I can do tomorrow. Actually, do we need reservations for dinner?”

Lúcia gives Eva a surprised look but makes no audible comment as I shake my head.

“Alright then,” Eva nods, “I’ll be seeing you tonight. I really want to bring the others here. A family dinner.”

Lúcia’s expression looks misty as she gives Eva a smile, “A family dinner. That sounds lovely.”

Eva nods to the woman then speaks to me again, “Alright then. Tonight I’ll be bringing you my schedule, so you can schedule that day off. Okay?”

“Yes ma’am,” I nod excitedly, “I’ll be ready when you are.”

“Good. Let’s go then Lúcia, we need to speak to Guille quickly,” Eva says standing up now.

Both women shake my hand, Lúcia sliding another hundred dollar bill in my hand as she does, and exit the restaurant. I stay standing near the table and watch as both women walk out gracefully.

“Damn. You hit the jackpot kid.”

Confused, I turn to look at Carla who is now cleaning the table, “What?”

“You’re telling me you don’t know who those women were,” Carla says with a surprised look.

“Well, I know their first names,” I shrug.

“That’s what you get for being a Gringa.” Carla huffs with a frown, “That’s Lúcia and Eva Carvajal. The widow and first daughter of Léon Carvajal. They own Grupo Carvajal and El Centro. They also own a few magazines and media outlets.”

I blink slowly, “You mean they own that news channel on TV and the national newspaper?"

Carla gives me a ‘duh’ expression before taking all the plates that now lay on her tray. I stare at the hundred dollar bill in my hand until the cover of last month's Cosmopolitan comes to my mind. My eyes widen as I remember the pictures of Valentina with her brother and a brunette woman with striking blue eyes.

Wait.

Does that mean…

I gasp, “What the hell?”

https://archiveofourown.org/works/18497122/chapters/45214468

#AmarAMuerte #Juliantina #ValentinaCarvajal #JulianaValdes #Fanfiction

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stomach-rental · 5 years

Text

BIRDS + BUGS AU HISTORY OUTLINE THAT GOT TOO LONG, I GUESS

@fairlyqualityanon

Why of COURSE I will tell you about nap times!

So, first of all, some background. The birds and bugs au, or the mutualism au, takes place in a time where humans have died out. They ended up killing off too much of the earth, not giving it enough time to grow back and ripping it of it's resources. The other sentient species of this planet were Tyto, a bird/human hybrid species with a Fun big dino form, and an incredibly small bug/human hybrid species that were simply knowns as bugs. The tyto and the bugs were starving, and as they struggled to deal with the complete tip in food supply, they knew something had to be done. Both birds and bugs banded together, fighting back the humans, destroying their resources and leaving only a few straggling remainders that died out on the island, protecting their land from anymore colonists from the outside world that were still left from the destruction they wrought.

So, the humans are gone, leaving an unbalanced ecosystem, the tyto, and the bugs. At first, they kept up their peace treaty, providing for one another as needed, stepping in to protect those who needed it...but food ran shorter and shorter. Bugs found a solution-- there were strange, floating islands, high above where most tyto could fly, which carried glowing rocks. When touched, the bugs were able to use powers to produce and guide plants, the earth, the water. It was a temporary solution for them, and they rejoiced at this find, distributing the rocks to bugs across the land and helping them learn the powers of deep, strange magic.

The tyto, however, did not have such a find. The tyto grew greedy, desperate, unable to grow food like the bugs had learned to do. Some prayed to gods, others tried to make up for it by learning, but it wasn't enough. They began to do the same thing that the humans had, and when that wasn't enough, they turned to taking from the bugs. The bugs had claimed they found a land where there was plentiful food, where they could produce their own resources-- where was this so called land? Why had only the bugs found it? Where was it for THEM? Some tytos began to take matters into their own claws, convincing the other tytos in the tribes that the bugs were stealing from THEIR land and THEIR food, and that they were nothing but pests that refused to stop mooching off of them! The bugs were no happier. They were convinced that the tyto were using them only for their gain, and prosperity would only come if they went out on their own where they could control the situation. Small bands of tyto broke off, and they would hunt down packs of bugs that were trying to migrate to the new lands. At first, it was only to steal supplies. But somehow, originally by accident, the tyto began to realize that the bugs satisfied a much, much deeper pleasure within them when they ate the bugs themselves instead of just the supplies they carried.

ALRIGHT I’m gonna post the rest under a read more because this is getting long lmao

THAT could not happen! Nope! That was really really bad! So the bugs retreated, vowing that they would NEVER trust the tyto again until they learned the error of their ways. They took everyone possible to the islands, too high for the tyto to reach or find with the fog surrounding the land. There they built societies within the rocks, finding new ways to use magic and binding themselves together into groups. However, they had to return to the surface of the land so that they would be able to get the nutrients needed to grow their food in the skies, creating tension and fear as they tried to grapple with avoiding the "monsters" that were the tyto still roaming beneath.

The tyto, for a time, were still merciless. They grew so feral with hunger that, through generations, the ability to speak our form a coherent language was long forgotten. They consumed everything in their path, desperately hungry for something that only bugs could satisfy, and trying to quench the large metabolisms they needed to survive. Many tyto died of starvation, and the few that were left decided that things needed to change. They formed groups, separating to the far ends of the islands, and learned to have patience. Their deep feral desires for food had to be ignored, through meditation and through fasting, so that they would learn to be satisfied with the little that they had. These practices slowly allowed the land to recover, animals returning as their populations were replenished and left alone, giving the birds the chance to eat only what was necessary. For a time, they had now learned to quench the burning embers within them, to silence them and leave it to rest.

When bugs and tyto met, it rarely went well. Bugs were the one thing to reignite that fire, and so bugs had to quickly learn to avoid the tribes of tyto, or be eaten. For the tyto, the bugs were no more than pests, potential creatures without thought or feeling that wanted to take what little food they had. For the bugs, the tyto were fearsome, greedy monsters of the land and waters below without thought or feeling, who only wanted to quell their desires through consumption.

500 years passed of this. Birds and Bugs no longer knew one another for who they were, only as predator and as prey, and the dangers of the other group were easily made known. It was stagnant, afraid, even with the tyto population slowly making a comeback.

Tyto, over time, had lost their ability to properly communicate, through the long periods of silent meditation that had been taught to help them survive. It was thought that this ability must be long gone, never to be found again except through gestures and vague displays. Instead, they discovered a far more curious magic-- an ability to share thoughts, touching one another's souls. It was hidden deep within them, and through practice, each tyto learned that they could finally share their thoughts and ideas as their own, starting a Wave of new experimental lines of belief. Including ONE belief system that has slowly taken over, where Bugs could be considered the Ultimate Source of food and power, with the ability to grant some sort of hidden prosperity when consumed.

The bugs, on the other hand, were oblivious to this. they had seperated into groups. the beetles, dragonflies, and similar species formed a clan called Kehpers that specialized in healing magic and growing food sources. the bees, wasps, and ants became known as the hiveborn, working in groups to keep things organized and build the structures around to keep the islands intact. and then the Lepidopa, later on known as the Outsiders, were made up of the moths and caterpillars who made their way to the surface to gather much needed supplies and bring word of the lands below. the bugs were ruled by the stability of the hiveborn, who ruled with an iron fist in an attempt to control the problems that had once plagued them, keeping true to their promise to never trust those below at any means or cost necessary.

The bugs and the birds lived very different lives, separate but interconnected by dependencies that they didn’t even understand. one lived on the land of the great expanse, the colder regions of the islands above that were safe from harm but desperately needed the resources below, and the other lived in the land of Belous, the large island below that yearned for a new kind of energy it did not possess. Each thought that they had exactly what they needed in their world, that they had LEARNED the way of their lives and that they needed not to understand anything beyond that.

But they were wrong.

There were other ways to get the life energy, the magic, the wholeness that both craved so much. This is where our story begins, where the lines of one species meets another after generations of separation, and how understanding and trust begin to mend the bonds of both the land itself and the species that relied on it.

THAT is the background to naptimes. uhhh. this post is super long, so, I May type a different post about naptimes themselves and like the actual vore part behind all of this, as well as the characters and story that begins to develop! but! this AU is actually built with two of my close friends, both of which have a huge part in the making and lore. we all BIG LOVE this stuff we’ve made through borrowed ideas and thoughts, but, I Do Not Know if we plan to actually make content content for this yet so I’m not sure what I Should be allowed to post and what I should not be allowed to post. just...know that it is a TRIP.

#birds and bugs au #mutualism au #I should add references to this later tbh #I am So Sorry this got long and I didn't even get to the actual story OR the nap times asjdhaskjdh #I just Had To Talk about it #I will post about the actual nap times tomorrow if I do not have homework #but Feel Free to ask questions until then #long post

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toonerdyandiknowit · 7 years

Text

Hardware

Part 2

You just wanted to live a normal life, damnit! Also, bonding with Tony.

I’m not sure how many chapters this thing is going to be, but I’m aiming for about 5.

Little bit angsty!

[Y/N] = Your Name

[Y/H/L] = Your hair length

[Y/H/C] = Your hair colour

"So..." you hummed, "Now what?"

------------

The answer to that was, apparently, move in with the Avengers.

Your new place was nice, sure. All your things had been moved and placed the way you liked them in your bedroom and living room. Stark "Call me Tony" had even gifted you with an amazing bookshelf after his first "welcome to the building" visit a week and a half ago.

You were a bit of a book hoarder, with no particular bias towards any one genre. You even had an "Engineering for dummies" that had sat gathering dust since you first discovered your powers. You'd reasoned, at the time, that you should probably know something about what you could do on instinct. You quickly gave up. Mostly, though, you just had sci-fi and fantasy. Either way, you'd never invested in buying a bookshelf yourself, preferring to just pile them up on any available space, a process you had brought over to your new place.

You'd been a little mortified when you realised he must have overseen the organisation of the enormous bookshelf himself (or maybe he just did it all, something that gave you nightmares). You were leaning towards the latter, especially when you realised all your, ahem, adult novels, had been organised by colour on the bottom shelf - and each was covered in post-its with winky faces on. You were also pretty sure there were new ones added to the collection. You were going to have to have a chat about boundaries.

The kitchen was downstairs in the community area, huge and always well stocked, seeing as it was a communal kitchen for the whole team. Thankfully your rooms came with their own bathroom and it was to die for. Also huge, the bath could seat four, had a Jacuzzi setting and built in mood lighting. There was a T.V. in the wall opposite the bath, and the remote was built into the side of the tub. The shower was also within sight of the T.V. and had more settings than you knew what to do with.

Every room was tastefully decorated in your style and in your favourite colour. All in all, living in the base was pretty great.

There was only one, teeny, tiny, problem.

The place was crawling with Avengers.

They were always trying to get you involved in their group discussions, which Tony was always somehow absent for, and at first it seemed nice. Like they were trying to get to know you and make you comfortable. It became quickly apparent that wasn't the case. They spoke about super hero things you didn't understand or want to know about, and you were treated as though that was some kind of failure on your part.

The truth was you weren't interested in the newest work out or the latest weaponry. You didn't care about how their new outfits were so much better for field work compared to the old ones. You didn't want to trade opinions about the state of this country or that country, and when would be the right time to interfere in this situation or that situation. You didn't care about being an Avenger.

It was not a popular opinion.

"If you don't want to use your powers for good, then why have them at all?" Spat Wanda one day. You'd made the mistake of comparing your situations - sure, you both had powers, but you didn't want to use them the way she did.

"Look," you sighed, pushing your half eaten bowl of cereal away, "I didn't choose this, ok? I didn't sign up, or volunteer, or whatever, for these powers. I wasn't soldier or a spy before I got them. I was a student. An English Literature student." You raised your brows, hoping that that would be enough to get the message across.

"But..." started Hawk.

"Look, no. Just no." you barked, standing, "I've been trying to play nice here why you all prodded and poked at me, trying to figure my powers out, but enough. Once your pals at SHEILD decide I can have my life back, that’s what I'm doing: Going back to my life. I fix things because my powers mean I can - and don't have to actually know anything about what I'm fixing."

" [Y/N] If you have the power to make a difference," intoned Steve, "Don't you think it's your responsibility to do something?"

"Tell me something Captain, do you think everyone who takes self defence, everyone who knows how to fire a gun, everyone who knows martial arts, do you think they should all join the army?" you snap.

"Of course not." he scoffs.

"Well? Why not? They have abilities, they can fight and look after themselves. How many times do I have to tell you? I am not a soldier. I was a librarian. Now apparently I'm the best, most ignorant mechanic alive. I do not want to be an Avenger. And no amount of whinging, complaining, or guilt trips, will change my mind." You tossed the last few sentences over your shoulder as you stormed out.

You'd never liked conflict. Sure, you'd sass your way in and out of all sorts of situations, and you'd throw a punch if you had to...but no. Conflict and arguments were not your forte.

Your feet seemed to know where to take you, even if your head wasn't caught up in the act, and you found yourself cautiously tapping at the glass doors of Tony's lab. He grinned when he saw you, hopping over to open the door for you.

"Hey Sparky, been wondering when you'd take up my invitation to come play engineer." He laughed, turning back to his desk to tinker with a pile of circuit boards. On the surface, they made no sense to you, but when you closed your eyes and focused, you could feel the little guys humming with...something. That indefinable something that let you understand tech of all kinds.

"Hm." You grunted, flicking your eyes open and darting them across the lab. Every surface was littered with electrical gear, tools, wiring, pipes and god knows what else. Some walls had burn marks and others had chunks missing piles of dust and rubble scattered around them.

"Sparky?" You heard, twisting your head to look Tony in his concerned puppy eyes, standing much closer than he was a minute ago.

"You're shaking."

It wasn't until he said it that you realised he was right, a shiver had set in deep in your bones, wracking your body with minute quakes as you folded in on yourself.

"Ok, what's going on?" Tony asked, his voice concerned, but tinged with an underlying sharpness as he slowly reached out an arm to touch your shoulder.

"I just.." you sighed, grabbing fistfuls of your [Y/H/L] [Y/H/C] hair to brush it back off your forehead, dislodging Tony's hand as you did so, "I don't like conflict. Arguments, raised voices. And all everyone wants to talk about is if I'm going to be an Avenger."

You cursed silently as you realised your voice was shaking too, and your shivers were getting stronger as you started to get angry.

"And no matter how many times I tell them no, I'm not going to be, I don't want to be...they still just keep pushing. Trying to make me feel bad." Folding your arms across your chest, you looked at the ground, waiting for Tony to tell you that they were right. That you were being selfish, that you don't get to have a normal life because you're not normal anymore.

"Steve said that I have a responsibility to help people, cause I have these stupid powers. He made it sound like I don’t have a choice." Your voice was low and miserable as you hung your head.

You chanced a look at Tony, and couldn't help but flinch at the angry look you found there.

"Alright Sparks," he sighed, scratching at the back of his head, "Come take a seat."

You dawdled behind Tony as he led the way to a worse for wear leather sofa, and you couldn't help the way your lips twitched up as he threw all the gear strewn across it onto the floor. He fell back into the seat with a whumph, and sat staring straight ahead, waiting for you to sit down, but not trying to rush you.

You sat, curled in on yourself slightly as the shivers finally started to die down, though they didn't completely go away in the face of your assumption that Tony was about to start yelling too.

"Rogers seems to be forgetting that we picked you up to register you, not recruit you." He started, and you frowned as you turned to look at him, though he continued staring straight ahead, "See, he, and the others, have this thing about heroism. And the idea that some people don't want the lives they lead is...I dunno, they're a bunch of idiots that think they know best in all things to do with the safety of the planet. My point is," here he turned to look at you, "Any idiot could see you're not cut out for this life. I mean, they raise their voices and you turn into a shivering mess. No offence... and one of these days you're gonna tell me why that is. But for now, I'll talk to them. Try to get them to back off a little. In the mean time, you're welcome to come down here and talk shop with me, or just come down on your own, whenever you need a time out from them."

As he finished his little speech, your shivering finally stopped, and you watched with wide eyes as he looked up at the ceiling and told Friday to give you clearance to the lab, whilst making sure that everyone else on the team (with the exception of Bruce) couldn't enter without being let in by someone with authorisation.

The action reminded you of when you'd spoken briefly with Spider-Man, back when you first arrived, and he'd told you he didn't live with the others. He was still just a kid under the mask, went to school and lived with his aunt, and only Tony knew his real identity. Spidey (He said you could call him that, he actually preferred it over "Kid", as Tony had taken to calling him in front of the team) said out of everyone, Tony seemed to understand wanting to balance a normal life with hero work the best. You were shocked when he told you it was Tony who tried to talk him out of being Spider-Man until he was done with school, and that Steve had actually tried to get him to move in with the Avengers, even though he'd said no.

You didn't think Steve, or the rest of the team, were bad guys...but they were starting to sound more and more like they wanted to collect powered people to defend the world. Whether they liked it or not.

"Thank you." You were in awe. You'd naturally gotten along with Tony from day one, well...after you’d exchanged a few snide comments about kidnapping and Stockholm syndrome, but you knew he was Iron Man, an original Avenger. And you'd thought he'd be on their side. But when you thought about it...

"Why did you even come back?" The words were out of your mouth before you could take them back, "I mean, never mind."

"No no, you wanna know why I'm still here, after everything that happened with the Accords?" he chirped, seemingly cheerful as he jumped up to continue his tinkering.

"Well, the world was in danger, yadda yadda yadda, same old same old. By the time the dust had cleared we'd all fallen back into our old roles and it just seemed like a waste of time to pick at healing wounds." His voice had grown harder as he pulled at a stubborn piece of machinery.

You knew a little of what had happened, and what you did know pointed towards most of the others turning on Tony for trying to do the right thing, ending with one of the team paralysed. You felt bad for picking at that particular wound, especially since, despite what Tony said, it didn't seem like it was healing all that well. Standing up and following him to the work bench, you peeked over his shoulder.

Focusing of the lump of metal in his hands, you asked it what was wrong.

"That bit."

"Huh?"

"You said to talk shop...so, um, it says that that bit is wiggled too far to the left and that it's disrupting the flow?" You glanced up at him sheepishly as he looked at you with raised eyebrows, before turning to glare at the contraption in his hand.

Passing him the small pair of tweezers by your hand, you giggled as he swore under his breath, trying to realign the wonky piece.

Sliding it into what you could only assume was some sort of software reader, data suddenly sprung up onto the nearby screen and Tony let out a shocked laugh.

"It told you?" He asked, a genuine smile in place as he glanced between you and the screen.

"Well, yeah? It's kinda how my power works, I guess I talk to the equipment."

"Really?" he asked, spinning to face you properly, "Well, what else is the stuff in the lab saying?"

You laughed, pleased to be of some use around here, and pleased to have taken his mind off of the darker aspects of your conversation, and spun in a slow circle with your eyes closed.

There was a lot of half finished stuff here, but mostly everything was singing happily. A smile wormed its way onto your face as you listened.

"There's a few things calling out for you to come finish fixing them but mostly.."

"Mostly what?"

"Mostly it's singing."

"Singing?" he asked sceptically.

"Well, what do you expect machines to do when they're happy and working perfectly?" you sassed, your tone indicating that this was a piece of obvious information.

"All right, all right, Sparky. Damn, wish I could hear that." The wistfulness in his voice made you twist your lips in sympathy, when a strange new voice in the song caught you attention.

"Well, now who are you?" You called over to the robot in the corner, whose “voice” told you it wanted to come say hi.

Pushing your power out, you stroked along its power base until it purred, rolling your way for more attention.

"That's Dum-E." said Tony, raising his eyebrows at the whizzing and churring coming from his robotic assistant.

"He's a sweetie!" you crooned, reaching to rub your hands under Dum-E's claw slash head, simultaneously continuing to stroke his electrical currents with your powers. Dum-E stretched his head out and twisted it to the side like a cat being fussed in just the right spot.

You stayed that way for a few minutes, allowing yourself to lose the days worries while you fussed over the sweet-natured machine. When you finally looked up, Tony was watching you fondly, a new piece of machinery to tinker with in his hands.

"You sure are something else Sparky."

#writing #fanfiction #avengers #hardware #tony stark #reader #reader with powers #super powers #angst #writing is hard

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fightevilandthengetblownup · 6 years

Text

My Design Verse

It always started the same way - Jack would burst into his lecture room and detail the facts of some new crazy murder spree that just wouldn’t be able to be looked into by anyone else.

Only when Jack needed him though; needed his eyes, his smarts and his empathy. He was Jack’s special tool, for the special cases where no other tool would do the job. And this case was no different, at least in that first explosive entrance into Will’s second lecture back since getting out of the hospital. He’d been promised a week but…

”We know her name, and her face, but we don’t know why she does this. This is where you come in, Will.” Jack’s voice was as strained as it had been every time they’d spoken since the FBI department head had begun to believe Will’s innocence after doubting him for the time. “There’s questions we need the answers to.”

“There’s no pattern that you and your interns can follow, you mean. You need someone who can find her.” The faint smirk that graced Will’s face was beginning to feel at home for him, being able to see through Jack’s façade of concern and to the cold hard facts that he was a tool to be used when necessary and thrown back into the box out of sight and mind when it wasn’t. An old tool with dents and bends that shouldn’t be there, but will do the job until it completely snaps. “You need me.”

“I need you, Will. Yes.” The resignation in Jack’s voice, his wife’s situation must be getting all the worse that he wasn’t arguing further - not enough spare in the older man to worry about placating his best professional investment when so much is tied up in his personal investments. “Just find her before we have another bizarre ritual slaughter or desecration to add to that file.”

The file had been laying closed on his desktop since the boss had left, the feeling of the classroom slowly seeping out the quiet fear and confusion that his classes had begun to fuel into him and his space. Maybe coming back to work wasn’t the best idea for the empath, but Hannibal had looked surprised at his determination to return - and if Will wanted to clear his entire reputation as well as Chilton’s then he needed to get his hands back into the FBI and their grasp, even if it was firmly turned from his psychiatrist at the moment. Will could not visualise until the tense atmosphere had lifted, or else he would just relive the hours just before as he ran through the mentality of those who weren’t mentalities any more for the class.

It wasn’t passing, that much was clear, and as he fumbled the pages into his messenger, Will Graham rolled his sleeves down and shrugged on the tweed jacket. As he made his way from the room, home and away from the stares that were still not sure they could believe his innocence despite it being cleared in all but reputation, the click of heels caught his attention further down the opposite end of the corridor. A familiar sound that was too much. If Will had to look, he could not look and speak to her in the same day. Not after Hannibal.

He could hear her calling, though he just sped onwards leaving her behind. Leaving the whole area behind in his rear view mirror. It was only holding him back so long as the monster was free. He could not see there. Especially not the woman outlined in the pages in his bag.

She would not be in that building, at least not by choice, and Will did not think she would be caught in such a way to bring her in any form but on a metal gurney. There was a challenge in her file, the deranged mind that would behead one victim, stab another in the neck and then turn around to shoot a third through the heart within a week of each other - and yet was still at large and not once trapped in a spiders web the way the closest files to her own had ever been by some special agent three times over. Insane yet in control of the sane world around her. She would be a challenge and a conquest all over.

The family were all there - welcoming and happy, tails aloft and voices high - as he got home, the joyous feelings and warm, /safe/ waves of his home where it was peaceful and he was king like Chilton at his hospital or Hannibal at his table. It wasn’t a pleasant comparison, but unlike the other psychopaths, Will’s kingdom was not built on other’s misery. He had had enough of that of his own and living through other’s that his dogs, his family, were the safety blanket of love and gentleness to soothe the balms of his work that his world at home was just that instead.

Maybe reading the process of a madwoman in such an environment - his one safe place in the world - was a bad idea, but as his fingers brushed the file and pulled her identity out of his bag it felt right. Like she would be at home here. Like her home was just like this. She /has/ a home like this; a singular stable point in a mad world where she was safe and loved by those that knew her more than the faces of the people she would meet outside each day. The problem with empathy was connection, a stark problem as Will opened the file across his lap (Winston’s nose snuggly pressed into the crook of his elbow as the rest of the family went about their business) and scanned over the dark eyes that stared up at him from the grainy images of the woman’s face, feeling a connection to his prey - or rather his catch, prey is Hannibal’s domain - as he slips into their world and feels it reach out and tug at his.

She was like him, but different too. That much was certain as his eyes closed and the wipers of his mind flicked away his own world and built up her own around him. There was life around her, happy and simple, but much more than the surface domestication - things that would be out of place in other houses; like his bed in his lounge room and her locked trunk as a coffee table. It was new. They’d been arguing about it, the contents something distasteful or disapproved by the other. She didn’t know what the problem was, and Will didn’t either. She needed more space, she needed more access. She needed it to make them safe.

Will sighed as she did - boots kicked up on the lid as the laptop laid precariously across their lap. The soft huff of air beside them was comforting though, their dog always knew when their mind would drift over things that would upset them. Bobby always said love was hard-

The empath jerked from his mind’s image for a moment and flipped haphazardly through the pages until the name made sense. /Bobby Singer/, the owner of a junk yard in South Dakota who had been linked in several investigations of strange behaviours as well as the pair of brothers that most resembled the young woman’s file. He was reported to have been investigated and found clean, phone tapping opportunities had drawn no conclusions and all attempts and other surveillance had been inconclusive at best, and completely useless at worst. The blonde had connections through her mother to the junkyard owner, the mother having been reported to have joined the older man a few years back. Nothing had come up suspicious other than her husband’s disappearance some decades back.

He turned the pages back to the collection of old motel and 7-11 security camera shots, blonde hair bleached white on the page as the woman’s face and head splattered the page and he delved once more into the world he’d been creating for her. Borrowing from her.

-but that was just what it was supposed to be like. And they knew he knew they were right. They needed to have those weapons right there, in easy reach. Just in case one of the other defences failed. Or someone who wouldn’t be trapped by the salt or symbols was the one to stop by. They needed to be able to protect him, keep him safe, because he wouldn’t do it for himself if they were in trouble. They’d both learnt that much after the last catch, and they couldn’t take it if he got hurt on her behalf again.-

The love she felt wasn’t what Will had expected, a psychopath with an obvious blood lust and disregard for human and animal life (given the slaughtering that would precursor some of their killings) in such barbaric forms was not someone who could - or rather, should - feel that way. That was not what he had thought was to her. It was not what the evidence suggested. The words on the page and the evidence in the crimes could be wrong though, that much Will was an expect in the field on, but even his case there was a glimmer of confusion and potential with his illness and psyche so twisted from his time under Hannibal’s eye. There wasn’t that confusion here - the murders were her handiwork, there was images of some even that placed her right there, blade in hand and blood all across her - and yet it didn’t match.

-Their hands danced their way across the keyboard, stroking letters and tapping away deftly as page after page of websites popped up. News articles. All places they had been, or were going to go -as some of the locations and dates matched to their most recent murders while others were days to come. They jotted some of the town names on one piece of pad, rested against the shaggy dog’s back as they added notes of words Will did not understand the connection to. Wolf, shifter, brother, rug, suc - the names went on and on, and they knew exactly what went where within a few clicks and articles at each place. Those that they didn’t know got scribbled on the next page alongside a book mark to the url, their lip bit tightly between their teeth. There were so many new ones that they didn’t know, and that shook them to the core. It had been weird enough learning about him and his kind, but the range that had escaped through the cracks again as the light got forced back in? It terrified them.

This was their routine, their way of selecting victims, Will could see that now. It was the pages and pages of local and national newspaper articles, the Twitter updates of weird noises or terrified teens, and the patterns in communities that made no sense to anyone or wouldn’t even be considered as a pattern by even a typical statistician. John’s work, shared with them by Ash all those years ago, had been good for flexing their mind to see the unusual - or rather, the haystack full of invisible needles out of the rest.

“Finding my prey quickly and quietly, unobserved and unpredictable - this is my design.” Will murmured the words to himself as his eyes opened, taking in the fireplace across from him and the curious glances a few of his family sent him. “I find my work, I know what I want, /no/ what I /need/, to do to each as I locate them. Geographically plotting their disposal along a route to lead me back home again, where I will being again. I will not leave until I am prepared, though my work will be done without me. This is my design..” His finger brushed across the stubborn chin, jutted out as a bowie knife bigger than her forearm slashed through the throat of a victim months ago behind some run down bar where other victims had disappeared for weeks and blood had rained down on her in later shots despite her victim eclipsing her by a foot and what Will would hazard was at least 100lbs, the burning desire to find her - to stop her, to understand her - forcing the empath to slam her file shut before he could sink back into their world.

"She will hunt regardless of my finding her. I can look tomorrow.” He spoke aloud, as though he had to convince someone around him - the thin air that surrounded him and the ghost of the monster that loomed over his every thought until he caught it - as he slid her file back onto his night stand. She could wait, he would have forever to find her before any one else did.

—-

It had been a week to the day since Jack gave him the file that Will Graham returned home to find his house broken into. Not the typical kicked in door with broken chip marks that spoke of an amateur burglary, but the two thin pieces of wire hanging out of the keyhole marking the perpetrator as a professional. A greeting, and a warning, as his hand reached out for the doorknob. He hadn’t been allowed to retain his gun since being released, despite his innocence and charges being dropped. And yet his fingers itched at his hip for his holster, as if wishing hard enough would bring it into existence. He considers not entering. It could easily be a trap, set to ensnare him yet again like the twisted fishing hooks - though it’s the bark of his jack russell which prompts him forward.

As Will pushed the door inwards, he was overwhelmed as always by his family’s welcome back - the joyful, happy reunion not at all darkened by the presence of the woman reclining on his bed. /Joanna Beth Harvelle/, the deranged ex-waitress from North Dakota, shows signs of severe detachment from the suffering of others and unpredictable murderous intent. Legs crossed and stretched out along the cover, her socked feet hung off the side of the bed - her mud-coated shoes were politely set by the door as her dark eyes raked over him. The petite woman was not what most would consider to appear like a serial killer, and Will found himself staring down eyes that could be as sharp as the knives that she was fond of or as soft as he had imagined her voice to be.

There she was. His prey, his lure, his shiny bauble that caught his attention and confused him until he’d just reach out and bite down on her sharp hooks. The demin-clad woman who he’d spent the last week trying to get into. He was determined to figure her out, as every time he tried to push himself inside of her he came up with another layer or more confusing. Every attempt to look through her had uncovered something new, something unexpected, and Will had been afraid to dig deeper as her world began to bleed into his like Abigail’s father had.

He had seen into her, felt her heart beats in his ear the same as his as he tried to find her pattern, her way of determining who to kill and who to save. Will had seen how she took after her mother, the way she would cock her hip out in a fight the way she used to see her mother do through the crack in her bedroom door. And her choice of relaxation methods from the weeks of cake slices she would take to school with her when her father went away. The way she inherited her love for knives under her father’s encouragement before his passing. Her favorite bands came from the faded posters and the dull thrum of music that would seep through the wall from her friend’s room from the time she was a pre-teen. The way her hands would shake as she would throw the last of the dirt over a shallow grave. None of it lined up with the cold-blooded killer he was supposed to be after; the same way he was unlike the copy-cat in anything but circumstance.

“I hope you don’t mind that I let myself in, your friends were going crazy when I was waiting outside.” Her voice, more gravelly than he had thought it to be, caught his attention back from staring her down as the dogs turned about to sniff at her heels and return to their regular resting spots as though not at all concerned the woman who surrounded herself in blood was reclined in such a possessive fashion upon his bed. If his silent appraisal, drawn in again to something so deranged and convoluted as the file turned form before him, had upset her at all she didn’t show it. Every person around him always reacted to his detatchment in some way - Jack with frustration, Alana with concern, Beverly with attitude, and Hannibal with fascination - but all he found in response to his continued silence was two big brown eyes blinking slowly at him as though they were both poised upon a knifes edge. Somewhere she was the one in control and comfortable with, in equal measure to the comfort Will felt within the sturdy walls of his home.

He could feel the questions bubbling within his mind, each needing an answer, a reason, an explanation that he couldn’t reconcile for himself even as he delved deeper into her with every try in that last week. Living inside of her had gelded no answers, only more questions - and as Will slowly pushed the front door shut behind him, he was certain she knew them all. “You were on the stoop of their home uninvited. That’s not usually well received.” His defensive tone, as though probing and poking to get a reaction from her that he could use to get in again and get his answers, delivered no results other than a small smile. “You had invaded their home and they had questions of you.”

“Seems to me that they’ve forgiven me though, such lovely little boys and girls. I’ve a dog at home myself just like the big doofus over there.” There was something about the familiarity, the comfortable way she spoke about his own family that pushed him along that edge. Will’s eyes flicked over towards the bernese dog curled before the dead fireplace, its tail wagged as though aware he was the one being spoken of, and he found yet another bridge begin to form between the two of them. Two mistaken murderers with a penchant for dogs. Animal cruelty was a common sign of a psychopath, and yet there she was with Winston’s head rested against her thigh in a way even Will’s- or he should say Hannibal’s, now- darling Alana could not succeed with. Her fingers brushed through his chesnut fur with deft practice. “And this big sweetheart wouldn’t rest until I’d given him some attention.”

Will’s brow creased deeper as he tried to reconcile his world to hers again, or possibly rather separate them, his feet making muted scrapes as he shuffled his feet a little closer. He expected to feel open, broken into and rifled around in the same way he did with the first killer to break into his home. But he didn’t. The same way the dogs were not gorging themselves on sausage meat made of whatever car sales man had offended the Chesapeake Ripper that week. He shrugged that thought away, another time and another place he would consider it but not now, and moved to reach for one of the piles of file pages spread across the bedspread before her. “Perhaps they do, but not to sound rude in my own home that you’ve gone and broken your way into, I’d like to know what else you’ve rifled away in. Besides these and endearing yourself to the rest of the family.”

He thought she had been smiling before, the soft warm looks that she had been giving to his furred housemates so the same as what those Will was surrounded by at work would deliver as a smile, but he was proven wrong regarding her yet again as she smiled brightly despite his aggressive response. She seemed to find his surly attitude and snappish tone amusing, if the choked back noise in her throat before she replied was anything to go by. “Ah yes, of course you worry about that. Not that I’d blame you one bit for it - I got broken into a while back, or rather stalked and a rather disgusting show of racist bigotry that followed, so I know how that feels. But that set up by the doc of yours?” The blonde let out an appreciative whistle, whether admiring Hannibal’s work or the fact Will was still standing despite it he couldn’t tell, that perked the ears of each of his dogs’ ears for a moment before she continued. “That was rough. See that’s exactly why I refuse to go to some sort of therapist bullshit, no ‘fense, cause the real coo-coo’s are the ones with the degrees if you feel me.”

He wasn’t the type to find such comments offensive any more, not after the monster had shown himself behind his smiling face, though that wasn’t what froze him like a lightening bolt as his fingers brushed against hers over the tops of her file. She knew about him. She knew about Hannibal. She knew about this file, and his psychosis, and his claims. She knew about it all somehow and she saw him. /See you/. She was no Garret Jacob Hobbs, but she saw him all the same. She /believed/ him without question unlike every other person he’d presented his theory to. Pleaded his innocence to. Raved his accusations to. “H.. How do you know about that?” The tremor Will heard in his voice was so like him before, before staring down Hannibal and calling him Ripper, but he felt just as out of control and his depth as he did back then as his mind had betrayed him.

“This fantastic invention called 'the Internet’?” The blonde smirked knowingly back at him as he jerked away from her, hands fisted tightly around the pages and pages detailing every sick thing that had been attributed to her smaller ones. His rejection seemed to finally find a chink in her act, though Will could not work out what that would symbolise in such a woman. Or at least the woman on paper. “You know, I think that Freddie Lounds has a bit of a crush on you? She covered your case and your claims and everythin’, even the stuff struck from record, about you down. Or did you mean how did I know you were trying to hunt me down?”

“Both really.” He grunted the words out, the flood of arrogance in her own question rubbed his hair the wrong way. Will would have expected his newest assignment from Jack to be somewhat classified. He’d only glimpsed the type of file she had a few times in past, and they passed over so few desks. Only the profilers and agent attached. Will would not be surprised if he was a last ditch attempt so far as she was concerned. The brothers he’d heard of before were easier to find, always travelling and frequently found involved in other crimes - but this one? He couldn’t tell why that didn’t occur for her as well, though he attributed it to the same reason she felt like she belonged there. Right where she was. “Freddie Lounds may be a good reporter, but she does not have the kind of reach to know about this.” He rustled the pages in his fist at her, an echo of a threat that she needed- no, he wanted- her to explain herself. And what may happen if she did not comply.

Winston’s growl was not something Will was used to hearing, as the woman shifted in her spot and twisted away from continuing to stroke him as she turned her attention fully to Will himself. Obviously he and she both had been spoiling him. “In that case. I have an IT guy. He lets me know if I pop up on anyone’s radar.” That smirk, it was almost as infuriating as Hannibal’s though for a completely different reason, almost made him embarrassed for questioning her. She was playing a whole different game than Will knew the rules for - serial killers, sociopaths, men with god complexes and those who had lost their minds somewhere down the track, who saw the same world that Will did but from a different light. Those were the people he could consume and become, almost too far sometimes. But this game was in a different world - her settings were the same, but the characters and rules called for things outside of what he could predict or understand.

“Robert Singer, of South Dakota, correct?” The affection she spoke about her 'guy’ made the assumption an easy jump. Even if her madness was still outside of his sight, the connections, the human elements that were clear as day within her from the moment she first spoke, were not hard for him to hazard out. The man’s name had been in her file, he was with her mother, a woman she desperately tried to resemble unconsciously beneath the active and aware disobedience and refusal. It was a logical step, an emotional leap, a rational response; as he moved towards his desk to smooth the papers to be put back in the manilla folder.

“Bobby?!” He almost jumped at the sound of laughter behind him. It had been a long time since there had been more than a huffed noise or sarcastic chuckle around him. It sounded like music in comparison, as Will stared back at her over his shoulder. It was strange to hear, and stranger to realise the lack of such a sound in his life. And how he didn’t want that sort of normalcy to leave. Even if it was from the mouth of a murderer. “No, not Bobby. I didn’t see him on any of the accurate pages in here..” The speed in which she flipped through the pages was the first show of her even being more than a normal woman. He couldn’t let that get away.

There was no way that she could be normal. Nothing about her could be allowed to be normal; no one normal and stable could cause the desecration that she did. Even he had slipped and slided to the point that he was visually not normal. /Unstable/. Will had to find the holes in her armour, the edge to her mask. There had to be something inside of her to corrupt such a normal, beautiful girl all those years ago. Perhaps it was the brothers. The older man. Her mother. Her absent father. There was too many and not enough; he could not see her yet. He wanted to see what was underneath it all and find all the marks of the darkness she wrought. He had to see her. Find her. Be her.

“So what exactly made you decide that breaking into the home of the agent hunting you?” With a shake of his head, dark whisps fallen across his vision as he turned away from staring longingly yet again, Will’s tone was edged in a way that held a threat that he didn’t know he could follow with. A threat she would not care if he did. “To see what I know about you. What that file says about you.” His hand smoothed carefully over the page before him -/JH pictured in Act #45 with victim #73 also pictured/. Her hair was darker in the photograph, stained grey from the shoddy security camera as she pressed the man, victim #73, against a wall in one shot before her hand became filled with a bowie knife the size of her arm and the knife disappeared within the victims neck in the third image. Her eyes held the same life and balance, awareness and stability, that they did now as he turned to face her again. “To…correct it?”

“Well first off, you’re not a real agent. But well done.” He didn’t want that tone to disappear, the lightness and amusement breathing into the house in the same way his dogs did and his fly hooks did for him. It was life, even as he turned his back on the proof that she dealt and spent in the exact opposite of it. She wasn’t mocking him; Will could see that much of her. She was mocking the agency, but not him. “You’re not just a pretty face then, was startin’ to think I’d have to be sweet on you with that sad puppy look. I’m here to correct you on a few things, and make a very clear point as well…”

Will froze in position as her feet dropped off the side of the bed with a thud, the almost predatory way she moved so alike but unlike the monster’s gaze sent a shiver along his spine. He was like the deer in Hobb’s crossfires; the next 'pig’ to Hannibal’s sounder. He was the fish he would catch and she was the lure. Helpless, weak, outmatched; but captured and captivated without a sound. She didn’t move like she was hunting her prey though, she moved like a lioness stalking around her cubs - the alertness there but none of the intent.

“Now, I was just stoppin’ by to tell you to stop trying to catch me. I’m not what you think I am, I’m /protectin’/ people out there - not killing them.” He had been wrong to think her voice would have been soft before, there was very little about her that was now as they stood toe-to-toe - him blocking her way from the building and her crowding him back as though to pull him in instead. Will’s fingers itched, though he wasn’t sure if it was for the missing holster at his hips or to reach out and touch her - to see if she was real and really there, or a return to the fever dreams of confusion and disillusionment that he’d had before. “If you don’t believe me about that, then believe me when I say that if you come after me you will disappear in a way none of your Federal buddies will be able to find you. But if you do believe me, then read through these carefully,” Her voice dropped, softer and huskier than the threats before them, as she pressed a hand to his chest. His own covered hers. It was warm, small; /soft/ like he’d thought. The papers remained as she slipped her hand from his, brown eyes wide as she stared up at him. She reeked of desperation. For him to trust her. Like she trusted him about Hannibal. “Follow the patterns and you’ll be able to find me amongst the truth of it.”

There was a frown on her face as she stared back at him, as though expecting his response to match her when all he could do was stare and gulp at her. His throat was dry. He couldn’t do anything but watch her, observe her, find her somewhere in the moves she made as he clung to the pages and she bent to tug her boots back on. Jack would want him to nab her here and there; she was a menace, a danger, unstable. Hannibal would have had a place for her on his table the moment she entered his house uninvited. Alana would never have stepped over the threshold. But Will saw something, nothing and he had to see what it meant. He couldn’t see if her words were honest and truthful or just a carefully concealed lie from behind a mask of innocence and assurance. He couldn’t see what was her reality and what was his, and how they could ever align to make her stability make sense within his world.

It wasn’t until Winston’s head butted against his calf that Will blinked his way out of the void between his world and hers, to find she had vacated his completely. The faint smell of vanilla, metal and chocolate in the air, a scent he’d not identified until she’d brushed past him and out of his door across the fields as being the smell of her, was all that lingered in the wake of her visit. His hand tightened across the pages she’d left him with, the rest of her file fell across the bed haphazardly and onto the floor aside from his rescued pictures of her. This was what she said was the answer. Would be his answer. Would point him to her, to find her, to understand her, to /see/ her. As he unrumpled the page between his hands, Will frowned at the post-it note within it with a city and date scrawled across it – ‘/Carthage, Missouri. 11/19/2009/’

---

A little town in the middle of nowhere. Population of approximately fourteen thousand, with two schools and enough quaint charm that those who grew up there would return after college with a partner and two children but isolated enough to create the ‘small town angst’ for every teenager and high school drop out to harbor deep inside until they were old and jaded, in November, 18th, 2009. Carthage was a sleepy hollow on the edge of Missouri that would be a pleasant detour when travelling across the country. The township is best known for its maple trees. /Was/ best known for them.

The post-it note had led him to a dead end, of the literal kind. It had taken longer than he cared to consider to find his way there. Jack had found cases he needed Will’s special expertise for left and right, and the number of students who had begun to turn their attention to his classes and field had begun to grow as his infamy settled into curiosity rather than terror. He’d not heard a word about how his profiling was going on the young woman, and he’d not turned his thoughts to her consciously until the several weeks had passed.

Unconsciously however, she filled his dreams the same way Garret Jacob Hobbs had as he tried to puzzle his way into her. His mantle piece would be covered in severed heads with closed eyes, blood dripping its way over the edge of the wood to drip onto the floorboards or run down the wall until a pool would surround the angel of death – her blonde hair darkened as the blood coated the outside edges and around the rest of her frame. Dark brown eyes would stare up at him, a silent scream for help or a warning he couldn’t tell, before her arm and blade would rise to point at the heads, the silver bowie knife in her grip dripping with the same red liquid that stuck to her and ran over his feet. When he’d look back to the mantle the heads’ eyes would be open and focussed on him before their mouths opened in a deafening hiss, fanged teeth coated in thick blood right before he’d awaken in a cold sweat again.

It had taken him five weeks before the nightmares finally were beyond ignorable. He’d slipped up in one of his so called therapy session the previous week about them to Hannibal – a wrong comment about his thoughts on the doctor being far from the most disturbing in his mind brought the entire conversation around through twists and turns like all their discussions did – and despite Will’s promise to himself to avoid playing the same runs that the other wanted or suggested for him to do, he found the post-it note pulled from its place amongst photographs of the woman and the researching beginning anew as Hannibal had suggested. The other psychiatrist suggested that the dreams, or more importantly the fear he felt upon waking up for her, were his way of seeking out an answer, a meaning or some logic to her actions that Will needed. Closure for brushing against her so frequently, tugging and pushing and pressing into her all that time before she breezed out of his door. For him to be able to understand a puzzle he couldn’t make out, the same as the puzzle Will was still unravelling with Hannibal himself. And that was what he found himself attempting to follow, the same way Alice followed the elusive white rabbit down the rabbit hole – though he hoped to retain what little remained of his sanity.

He had started with the file itself, pouring over the names and places the blonde woman had struck until the deeds she’d committed barely made him blink or shocked. Until they were just words on paper rather than bodies in alleyways or heads on the mantle. Blood in her hair. Will plotted her movements, the dates and the times, the start of each new string of horrors that culminated in deaths or property destruction or the desecration of bodies. He wrote her name and her cities, he breathed in her movements across time and country as though it would tell him where she would go next, how she came to hand him that puzzling piece of paper with that town she’d never been to scrawled across it. He’d had to pause and take a pill for the headache he was developing as the times started to smash together; a jumble of times and places all at once or stacked on top of each other. His glasses felt tight and the truth of the matter seemed further and further away the more he pried into what was hers, the confused jumble of times she would be killing a man with a silver bullet on one side of the country at midnight and leaving another mutilated and missing a heart on the other just six hours later, and so forth felt like a shock to the mind to reconcile them both to the same person. Especially the small woman who’d smelt of desserts.

The timeline was the first chink in his belief for the file over her though, where she’d had no holes or gaps, the story the reports painted was as riddled with them as the bodies shot though with bows and arrows and bullets in her wake. Will didn’t believe she wasn’t capable of murder, that her hands were clean or that she was framed the way that a tube down the throat packed with the ear of a loved one was, but something was wrong with the picture the FBI was trying to interpret her from. Perhaps he was too close, perhaps her personal greeting had twisted him with her laughs and her smiles. Or perhaps he was again seeing what others at the bureau didn’t.

Papers and police reports, census data and Wikipedia, were next yet none of them explained what would be of interest for a serial killer in the small sleepy township. Other than a few unexplained home invasions and the typical drunk-and-disorderly reports the town was clean. Perfect. A small slice of the traditional and kitsch that had fallen through the cracks of time to retain its’ charm. The aging population was not a concern, and the local newspaper would drag on about the local college football’s team chances against others. There was nothing suspect or concerning at a cursory glance to the place. Carthage may have been built on a field drenched in blood, but Will could find nothing of it being that way now as he searched.

It wasn’t until that thought had crossed his mind that Will noticed the detail missing. The one clue amidst so much additional white noise that it had almost slipped right past him. In the same way that he found Garret Jacob Hobbs from a missing address – one small detail that would have made him another face in the crowd to Will if it weren’t for it. The quirk of a man out of place, and a place out of time. Nothing existed of Carthage, Missouri after November 19th, 2009. No newspaper articles, no census details, no police reports; even taxation records showed nothing from the town after that date. Will had even taken the weekend to fly out and visit – only to see the ghost town in the flesh as clearly as it was on paper. A town that disappeared in a day, the way that Rome fell in flames and Atlantis was said to have sunk beneath the waves. It was no more from that point, and nobody appeared to be concerned or know about it, except the writer of the note and her now curious counterpart.

—

The dead bodies were piled high across the yard, their carcasses all that was left after the scavengers had finished plucking every useable part from the corpse, forming a weaving labyrinth between the house and the collection of tin rooves and sheds across the property. It was a place that Will would not have been surprised to have found himself arriving at after a call from Jack. The rusted skeletons littering the grounds would inevitably end up filtered through into his nightmares tonight – the stag would prowl proudly amongst the wreckage while the angel would be pinned down somewhere or dashing before Will, always just out of reach whenever he grabbed for her. Last night he brushed the back of her red dress and smell of chocolate had haunted him into the waking world.

The dark haired man had weaved his way through the junk yard until he reached the old farm house. The boarded up windows on some of the rooms made him believe this would be another dead end, just like the one that led him to the abandoned town filled with parked cars, empty houses and rotted food throughout the stores with nobody to use them but ghosts. The only thing that didn’t fit the picture was the blown out wreckage of what appeared to be a hardware store by the collection of melted tools and nails. It would have all been pointless, a wild goose chase, in his mind if he hadn’t found a knife embedded into the wooden street lamp post outside of it from the blast. That dagger was the only suggestion he was on the right track and that something more had occurred, something that no small woman could do on her lonesome if she even did. It was her knife though, Will knew that much.

His first impression that the junkyard and house were abandoned was proven wrong as he moved to head up the small set of steps to the front door as the door opened at his approach. There was something all too familiar to him in the suspicious glare being levelled at him and the defensive stance of the older man as he stepped out the doorway. Robert Singer looked exactly like the grainy photographs of the man in the file, the lines above his brows a little deeper and the depth of age and wear in his eyes the only differences that reality could give into the man’s life that a long-shot lens couldn’t. “Mr. Singer, right? My name’s Will Graham, I’m with the F-”

“The FBI, I’m aware of who you are. Face splashed all across the papers not so long ago.” The gruff tone was not at all unexpected, though it took care for him to keep his face from hiding the surprise at the straight awareness. Sure he’d been outed nationally as the possible Copy Cat Killer, but that had been weeks since dropped, and to remember a name and a face so long when so unrelated? The strange awareness and calculation that the blonde had had cloaked the older man as well, even more tightly wrapped around him from what had to have been years longer. “What I’m not aware of is why I’d be getting’ a visit from the Feds.”

The accusing tone behind the words made Will want to run back down the stairs and tell Jack to forget about it, that the blonde was one crazy no one would be finding any time soon, that there was no chance, no logic, no reason to her and the whole world she existed in outside of their own. That even he couldn’t see into her like he could the other brands of crazy and murderous. That perhaps Hannibal would be a better suggestion. Though the second that that thought crossed his mind, he wanted nothing more than to stop that ever becoming a reality. There was too much life to be lost there, and Will gave a soft sigh at himself for even thinking it; Hannibal was someone to wish upon himself and nobody else, that torment was Will’s to bear, not the sprite. He could already see what an elaborate masquerade would be made to display her – warm eyes dulled and lips stained red from blood as she was laid across the alter, hands clasping the bouquet of her knives as the empty fired shells surrounded like rose petals and the gap between neck and chest gaping wide like some she’d leave behind, all to disguise what part of her the other psychiatrist had stolen away from her – and it made his stomach turn to consider just what private showing that would be put on as well now he knew of it.

He swallowed down those thoughts as a sharp knock of metal on wood jerked him back out of his mind, a round of blinking before Will reconciled that the rap was from the barrel of the old shotgun against the door frame that caught him back. The other man’s comfort with the weapon as well as considering look made him want to shudder as he tucked his hands awkwardly into the front pockets of his dark denim jeans. If there was a moment to wish he had worn a jacket he could fumble with it was now. “Ah, well, I’m not here officially speaking – I..am trying to find an acquaintance of yours.” Will got the words out as clearly as he could, the loathesome look upon Robert’s face did nothing to calm his thoughts and the thought to lie about his reasons vanished alongside it. “Joanna Harvelle, I’ve… I’m supposed to be creating a criminal profile on her, but I can’t.”

“And you thought comin’ to an acquaintance of someone you’re huntin’ to get inside their heads was a good idea?” The look in the other’s eyes sent a shiver down his spine. It was almost like staring down the stag, facing the monster and looking unblinkingly into its face. Almost. There wasn’t the lack of warmth deep inside, the cold detachment from humanity like the cool icy-blue behind Hannibal’s eyes was missing within the older man’s. “Boy, you’re well out of your mind.”

It wasn’t hard to imagine this man being close to Joanna, the same hard edges jutting out sharply underneath it all amongst the same smooth corners, worn away from years of abuse and hardship. Will could see this man clearer than his lure though, the way his entire house seemed to have build and grow and age alongside him, the wear of the world toughening his skin, hands and mind while the pains he’d seen come and go left his heart scarred yet open. He wanted to protect, defend, save…father those around him, in a way he had never been cared for, and yet the aggression was still there, the same drive to find and destroy and underlying current of dangerous energy was still the same as the blonde’s if only dulled by time, age and wisdom. They were from the same cloth, that same world Will couldn’t understand, but at different points; she was consumed within it, while Robert had slowly let it slip back again. The absent thought of just how many unsolved murders years ago in the records room could be tied up to the man before him crossed his mind before shoving that aside for another day.

He coughed slightly, a faint worry that perhaps his encephalitis might have flared its nostrils again, as he averted his gaze at Robert’s brushing against the truth. “If you read TattleTale, you’d know better than the question it.” Will reached up, fiddling with his glasses for a second as the older man shifted his weight. He couldn’t quite find the words to explain it, why he was here, what he would do with whatever he found, who he would tell it to; that all he wanted to find out was why the blade engraved with her last name found amongst the rubble was iron unlike most. He leant down to slide the blade under the door, facing up and the small sliver of light making her name shine. “I might be mad, but if anyone’d have answers about her it’d be you. And... I have something of hers, I- I think she needs it back...” He trailed off awkwardly, the confusion he could feel bubbling through him was the same in his voice, and he was surprised to realise his voice didn’t crack of waver as he waited. Baited breath and half expecting the door to be slammed in his face or the barrel of the gun to rise between his eyes, Will closed his eyes as he awaited the older man to play his move in return.

The door thunked back open in response, as the older man turned, gun at his hip now rested back in the umbrella stand and the quiet stillness of the house reached out, beckoned to him to come inside. “If I’m goin’ to be answering whatever questions you got, we’ll need some coffee.” Robert’s voice echoed out of the hallway as he disappeared from sight somewhere behind the air motes and faint sunlight that floated down from the landing window before Will finally moved. He rose awkwardly as he stepped through the threshold, decision made to follow the shiny lure up out of the murky confusion and darkness if he could, and if the older man could provide the push, he’d take it. The sharp cold of the steel in his hand catching him as it’s true owner had, pulling him deeper through the dark.

#fic #for lexy #my design verse

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thomasinabergsten · 4 years

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Cat Not Peeing For 2 Days Astonishing Tricks

The higher the percentage, the higher the chance they will ultimately be put on a good opportunity to climb trees and cat scratching furniture, urinating in the litter box.They are fluffy, quiet and out of your house.You can try putting some pinecones on top of the urine annoys you, you could walk around and trying suggestions do you clean up messes while they are so smitten by their beloved cat soon after that.If your cat will not develop the serious, life-threatening uterine infections which are much better.

One thing that isn't so great that cats encounter during the scratching tree and a cat that lives alone without the barrier in place.Use a mixture of taking your cat at first.When kitty begins to scratch may help to quickly get rid of your family, and for those who have taught your cat to be altered.The feline will have to make me feel a little honeysuckle on a plastic bag, a curtain, your table cloth or sponge.Carpets present more of an issue when the cat can offer many benefits both to have around the house.

Cats don't like around your garden their home as a final rinse.They are well built and strong rams so even if there are enough toys or activities to keep some things you can do this as a fashionable piece doesn't make you angry.Now, conditioning and punishment do not dig up the nostril, you'll want to catch your cat will stop scratching altogether.The last thing you want to consider is that F3 savannah cat make sure that the best things to remember is that the cat ate, stress or nervousnessMake sure you cut evenly, without hurting the cat, size of four times a year.

Use unscented soap and/or baking soda on it.I have always enjoyed the bizzy balls best of all, natural remedies for fleas and ticks is that the best on the fake fur.If your cat will really bubble and work well to boarding, so try to redirect the scratching post and get depressed when unable to climb trees and other pests.In pet cats, this is the important thing is the situation but always be sure your litter box by ensuring it is frustrating, do not have any of its primary means of entertainment.Tall scratching posts or poles covered with newspaper, and covered the traps before I left the baking soda.

Make him do something to grip and feel good.As should be addressed and/or eliminated with either carpet or made of quality, food-safe ceramics and in more grave cases, chronic depression and destructive symptoms such as your cat the smell from your home you should be treated too.This Concentrate must come in and get a professional cleaning.They need a towel in the daily cleaning process, but remember to steer your cat against flea and tick sprays.Cats do make wonderful pets if you have to be working.

And no matter how much of their thick undercoat, they give the cat has long fur, it is still an animal, they say.Common Cat Health Advice will enable your cat vomits hairballs frequently, take it to the odor of cat's urine.Can be used to control unwanted behavior.Another very important to use a scratching post, you will be restless and howling all day.Fill a box with pain and suffering unto it.

Relieving boredom - Provide a clean toilet.If you started using the litter box is fresh and clean the box when you need to change the behavior you need to do it as the cause is usually problematic.An owner must try to not leave food out for her normal resting place.Even cats which live indoors can get to long then you can find no other animals, the cat did not go in cat pet training.Cats are like little babies and don't like to scratch where they eat.

He was 3 years old, this may seem like a pigmented tumor.However, cats enjoy the company of other cats to bring in a crate to accommodate Poofy.For example you may find it difficult for you as they please.- To declare the territory: The cat will then lick it all the same.This is how to choose your kitty will let your friendly veterinarian take over.

What To Do If Cat Is Spraying

Domestic cats preform these behaviors the same surface area with a bristle brush should also treat the padding, and if you can't seem to know what a good idea to visit vet regularly.Clumping litter is not desirable, special metal flea combs are available over the years.The owner should not be able to enjoy caring for your normal everyday clean up the furniture make sure they were meant to eat and non-addictive.Let this dry naturally; unless you are able to escape out the wild and know how to treat them.Where are the least offensive way cats communicate.

You'll probably also want to make certain.While some cats will reduce a lot of trouble and what their cat beds.He then started to slowly walk around your cat, it is you bring home a small circular motion to remove pet stains.Sheer panels at the bottom of the litter box.However, cats would eventually be replaced regularly as the skills they learn to avoid punishment.

You can surround your garden many people won't even perform the behavior you need to be an irritating problem; so it is to spay or neuter your cat.Why, then, are most fertile in the world to him.This leaves your dog through the foil so that she could see out easily.It adds to the furniture or cat accidents.Although going out especially late at night.

Next, it is hard to determine why he only bites me and not you.So other than their dislike for water, cats dislike each other you may end up with such aggression and disobedience, many cat owners are concerned with ticks or fleas then you should aim for two reasons.Cat urine can damage the kidneys, if you just want to spray their territory by spraying urine on certain chairs or couches.Of course, my cats will actually bond with you, and your cat.The above ideas may help to gain entry to your cat.

placed in it and you must use other methods to deterring your cat is to remove cat urine stain realizes how unsightly and foul-smelling they can be the better for some cats.Soapy chemicals do nothing more frustrating than watching your cat may have more than one cat, an easy alternative.Hopefully, these suggestions will help greatly in this decision.Hence, compromising the quality of our cats.Because flea treatments such as lions are still some people who have bad reactions to cats.

First task- You have to be safe enough to cover three training techniques that can be very effective.Cats are naturally going to have to win and the litter box.Using a spray bottle with water if any fighting should occur.To effectively remove the cat odor with a fresh clean litter behind.There should not be ignored when they are throughout his body.

Cat Spraying No More Free

Litter boxes can be painful and may become less continent, and not pamper the cat.Spray the area where the cat is neutered or spayed.Keeping your cat is introduced to the vet.Observing your cat is fond of scratching, gradually moving it away someplace but make sure that the solution could simply be getting a new cat owners.You should do is make sure that their furry little friend or friends house and after asking a lot cheaper to do this on a leash with training.

Once you've risen it's latrine to the pet guardian with an area and vacuum away after a long haired, black and white vinegar.When you introduce your cat it may be able to locate where the cat odor problem since last fall or winter, and thought that the job of keeping you and the litter box.No matter how strongly some adoring cat lovers choose to lock the kitten up in 24 hours.We can help to keep the skin will cause the kitten will not be retained or passed on to create the white cornstarch mixture.If you have one cat in doors it was my payback, as his territory.

#Cat Not Peeing For 2 Days Astonishing Tricks #How Can I Make My Female Cat Stop Spraying

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imaginedanganronpa · 7 years

Note

Could you do the one with the ndrv3 girls and their childhood friend ask but with the ndrv3 boys, please?

V3 Boys With A Childhood Friend S/O In The Killing Game With Them!

Saihara Shuichi

From the beginning, back when you two were just children, you had things he loved about you. He was drawn to you.

On top of that, you were inseparably drawn to him as well.

It felt like a blessing to be able to attend Hope’s Peak together; it only meant you’d enter your adult lives and each watch your best friend become successful.

It felt like a blessing until things took a dark turn.

Saihara grabbed your hand and rubbed his thumb into your palm when the Killing Game was announced. You two communicated through glances and stares.

He would not let anything happen to you, and he’d be a dead man if he did. He became protective of you and asked if you’d like to stay in his room with him.

Before this, you practically lived together, always at one another’s houses. This was nothing different, only much, much more terrifying.

Ouma Kokichi

You loved Ouma, despite his constant joking and mannerisms. In return, he loved to tease you, and it was like your thing.

He’d always teased you, lovingly, ever since you were little.

As soon as the Killing Game started, he thought it was a joke. He didn’t seem to take it seriously.

However, just looking at the grim expression on your face, he slowly realized that this was your new reality, and things were just getting started.

Even in the academy, he tried his best to make you laugh. It didn’t seem to be helping very much.

He also got extremely aggressive and protective over you.

He didn’t care if he bugged you or annoyed you, he was going to follow you around like a lost puppy and you became his number one priority.

Rantaro Amami

Unlike several others, he was understanding and calm about the Killing Game.

However, unlike several others, he had someone in here with him that he cared deeply about: You.

You’d known one another since you were practically babies and grew up together, and he was damn sure not going to let you die in this academy.

What happened to growing old together and finishing school? If anything, he was so confused as to why all of your plans had fallen from underneath you.

No matter what, he was going to make sure you two got out of here alive because he wasn’t going to let your goals be for nothing.

Often, he showed you affection and joined you at the hip, and even when you were off on your own, he watched you like a hawk.

Not in a creepy way, but he was terrified of something happening to you.

Kiibo

You’d known Kiibo since he was first built and brought into this world, and that’s when you were very young. Ever since, you’d taught him the ways of the human world.

On the surface and deep inside, you knew he was an all around softie. Although, when the Killing Game began, he became much colder and tried to intimidate the others.

He’d threaten them with a ‘self destruct’ feature if they got too close to you, and played it off as if he had weapons stored inside of him.

It worked and the others left you two be, and you kept telling yourself it was for the best.

He couldn’t help it; you two were childhood friends. You were the first face he saw when he came into the world, and he didn’t want it to be his last.

At night time, he’d crawl in beside you and soften up, letting his 'threatening’ nature slip away and protected you.

He didn’t need sleep, after all. So, he stayed up all his nights protecting you instead. Worth it.

Kaito Momota

Most of Kaito’s earliest memories involved you, and you were such huge parts of each other’s lives.

As soon as Monokuma appeared and the Killing Game was put into action, he made his way for you and grabbed your shoulders. Visibly unnerved and shaking, he held you tight and repeated that you two couldn’t die in here.

Doing your best to calm him down, he vowed that he wouldn’t let anything happen to you, not on his watch.

He almost seemed like a dad bossing you around. Truthfully, he just didn’t know what he’d do without you. His temper shortened and he became more violent as the game went on, only trying to look out for you.

He was going to make sure that you at least got out of here alive; he slowly stopped caring about himself.

His sun and moon revolved around you; In fact, you were his sun and moon. If that meant giving his life to protect you, he’d do it in a heartbeat.

Korekiyo Shunguuji

He wasn’t as terrified as the others were among the start of this Game. He could tell that you were petrified for your life, though.

He did everything in his power to control you and watch out for you, but he knew he couldn’t do it all.

In a way, he was accepting. During trials, he’d console you and hold you all night after each execution. Even since you were kids, he was always there for you when you needed him and nothing changed that, not even Monokuma’s rules.

His coolness throughout seemed to relax you a bit, but don’t be fooled.

If it came down to it, he would most definitely kill for you. He was only afraid of leaving you by yourself and alone in this place, which would make you an easy target.

He was your life support, essentially, and this continued even into the academy.

Gonta Gokuhara

He didn’t fully understand the weight of the situation, or what was happening. You had to painfully explain it to him, and this only caused him to freak out.

After a few days passed, though, and he relaxed, and went into a protective mode.

Of course, this was due to his primal background. You practically raised him after he got back from that and you’d been best friends ever since.

Though, he started to act somewhat like a guard dog in your current situation. It got to the point where it sounded like deep growling came from his throat when some unwanted person approached you.

You couldn’t go anywhere without your childhood friend right on your heels. No one ever saw one of you without the other, and he made sure that you were safe.

All he ever wanted to do was keep you safe and sound.

At night, when things were calm, he would try to make you smile. He felt tiny victories every time he made you giggle.

Ryoma Hoshi

The Killing Game didn’t scare him. What scared him was that you were in here with him.

His best friend of all time, and one of the only people he ever let in and get close, was trapped in this awful reality as well.

You deserved better than that.

He knew he couldn’t protect you like he wanted to, but he never left your side. He may have had a bad past, but that was off the table in here.

He couldn’t do the things for you that he wanted to.

From day one, he told himself that nothing would happen to you as long as he was around, and if someone wanted to hurt you, they’d have to go through him first.

It was one or both of you, but nevertheless, you had nothing to fear with this one at your arm. Hoshi took good care of you, and seemed to make all of your days a little easier.

#danganronpa #danganronpa v3 #ndrv3 #imagines #saihara shuichi #ouma kokichi #rantaro amami #kiibo #kaito momota #korekiyo shinguuji #gonta gokuhara #ryoma hoshi

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sylviathewanderer-blog · 7 years

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Sylvia’s Sci-Fi Series - A sneak Peak

So I've mentioned that I enjoy writing science fiction before. Well I was working on a sub story to go along with an episodic series I've been working on. The sub story is about the alien that crashes on earth and leave behind the wreckage that eventually gets reverse engineered and used to create humanity’s star ships. Each small section is told during the opening of every episode as a way to explain the history of the universe and important events that tie into the main story in some way

Currently, I haven’t posted any of this story anywhere else as I’m just not sure where I’d do that. I’ve also never had any of my writing published. This is just something i enjoy doing for fun, though I would love to let others read my writing eventually. So far the only people who have read my work have been close personal friends.

This community has been so nice to me and helped me so much while I tried to figure out just who I am that I figured I should try to give something back. If you like it let me know, especially if you know a good place for me to start posting the series as a whole so it has a place to live, grow, and be seen by the rest of the world.

When this story begins it is 1947 in the USA and the main character is the sole survivor of the Roswell UFO crash. He’s been picked up by the military and is now being held at a secret military base. (i’m not happy with that section yet and am still rewriting it, which is why it has been omitted from this sneak peak.)

* * * * *

A small large headed grey humanoid sits alone in a tall wooden chair, his stubby legs hanging off the ground as he shifts trying to get comfortable in the stiff, unpadded seat. He rests his long hairless arms on the top of a small square table placed directly in front of him. A single light hangs directly above his head barely illuminating the rest of the small barren room. He drums his fingers idly on the surface of the table while looking at a large mirror set in the wall in front of him.

“Yup, real intimidating guys. . .” he says rolling his large eyes.

He straightens up as he hears the door to his right side unlock. The door gives a slight groan that nevertheless echos loudly around the mostly empty room. Two humans, a man wearing a military dress uniform practically covered in metal bars carrying a second chair, and a woman wearing a soft pink A line dress with her dark curled hair mostly tucked up under a small pink hat holding a clipboard and a pen. The military man sets his chair across from the alien and sits in it folding his arms across the surface of the table and glaring deep into the alien's large grey eyes.

“Ah, so I guess that makes you the 'Bad Cop' then?” The alien asks holding back a chuckle.

The military man looks from the alien over to his female cohort raising an eyebrow at her.

“We have very good hearing. I was listening to you both going over your plan in the room behind the one way glass the whole time.” He leans around the man in front of him to give a wave to the mirror across the room “Hi, other guys back there still! Don't bother whispering, I can hear that too. . . Yeah, even that.” He slowly leans back to sit straight in his chair again giving the man across the table a satisfied grin.

“Then you know why we've come?” the man says with a snarl never dropping his piercing stare.

“Yup, you ‘mean to see a man about a ship’. Am I right?”

The small framed woman steps forward. “We don't wish to steal your ship from you. We mean to offer you a trade. A. . . er, an offer of purchase!”

“Yeah, I've been hearing all about that.” the alien says waving her off “Dunno who the 'Rooskies' are, but I'm sure they'll be shaking in their boots.”

“Are you interested in hearing our offer.” The man states rather than asking trying to maintain his own illusion of control over the situation.

“Yeah, and I'm not interested in any of your currency, land, nor any resources. I could use a beer, though!” The grey alien shifts his glance between the intimidating stare of the man and the look of shock on his assistant's face. “What? I'm an alcoholic, alright! There, you made me say it. What is that, Step 1 on the road to recovery?”

The woman lowers her clipboard and cants her head to one side feeling her grasp of reality slipping a bit. “You'll sell us your ship for a beer!?”

“Oh, not just a beer. I want all the beer I can drink.”

“That can be arranged.” The man in the uniform says flatly, letting a small smile drift across his lips for the first time since entering the room.

“And I want one of the ships you produce after reverse engineering the wreckage. That point is non-negotiable. Wipe out your Rooskies. Take up asteroid wrangling. I don't care what you all do after I leave. I just don't plan on spending the rest of my life stuck on this rock!”

“You'll help us then?” The woman asks approaching the table.

“As long as I get what I want out of it and you guys don't try to pull anything on me, absolutely. Keep in mind though, I hear everything!” The alien says leaning over the table and giving a glare of his own.

* * * * *

A small grey skinned man roars in frustration slinging a stack of papers off of a low table screaming in his own native tongue as he paces, stomping back and forth across a room filled with diagrams and wall sized computer terminals.

A woman with dark curly hair wearing pressed business attire walks into the cramped workspace. “I-is that cursing or some kind of drinking song from your home world?” she asks laughing a bit to herself.

“Swearing! Definitely swearing! What the Hel-” he stops as she raises a carefully trimmed eyebrow. “What am I supposed to do with this. . . garbage!?” he yells motioning to a large computer bank with a pair of tape reels spinning on the front of it. “Is this seriously the best computer your planet has!? Magnetic TAPE!? Your species seriously hasn't figured out nano-cellular processing yet!?”

“Sorry if my people aren't sufficiently advanced for your liking Mr. St-Straz-zt'dak-ou-”

The alien shakes his head at her “Don't hurt yourself trying to say my name. Just call me Grey like everyone else. It worries me every time you try to say it. Your eyes start rolling into the back of your head and you do that odd lip. . . pucker. . . thing.”

The woman stops suddenly feeling very aware of her own facial expression. “Oh. . . I er. I'm sorry, Mr. Grey.”

“I do like that thing you're doing right now where all the blood is rushing to your cheeks, though!” He says giving her a smirk.

She whips around trying to hide her blushing face. “Please. Just stop teasing me for a minute so i can try to help.”

“Look, the problem is that with computers like this, we'd need the ship to be larger than this entire base just to make fit one powerful enough into it.”

“Can't we copy the computer your old ship used?”

“Not without material from my home world. We're going to have to wait for you guys to learn to build more compact computers with what you have. The first step will be ditching the tubes and the tape.” He shoots another scornful look at the large spinning reels “I'd love to teach you how, but I'm not a computer engineer! I'll start working on propulsion in the meantime, but this is a huge setback!” Grey says pulling a few schematics out of a filing cabinet.

The woman bends down picking scattered sheets of paper off of the floor. Most of the drawings are clearly done by hand and the text is stretched, crooked, and a bit oblong. “You're handwriting is just terrible. You know that?”

“Yeah, sorry I wasn't raised writing in English. You only have, like, five good letters!”

“Oh?” she says as she straightens her stack of paper

“Yeah O, Q, C, G and D. . . U is almost tolerable, but the rest can fu- . . . I can do without.”

“Sorry, that was insensitive. I wasn't thinking about what your native texts look like when I said that.”

“Nah, don't worry about it. This whole thing has been culture shock for everyone. Am I clear to get some fresh air, yet?”

“Sorry, it's still light out.”

“I don't see the big deal about people seeing me. So I'm an alien? There's tons of us out there! I don't even look all that different from you all, just healthier in color, less hairy, and not as badly stretched out!” Grey says rolling his schematic out on the table and looking over it.

“They're afraid it would cause a panic. There's been all of those movies about aliens attacking folks and all.”

“And who's bright idea was it to start making those?”

“Well, the hope was that seeing aliens would slowly make people comfortable with the whole idea of your existence. Then Hollywood went and made you all the monster of the week, and. . .”

“Yeah, brilliant plan.” Grey stops working and looks up at her. “Why green of all colors though?”

“See, I was more confused by the antenna.”

“No that actually makes sense to me. I think they were trying to explain how I hear so well without visible ears.”

She laughs a bit, slowly rotating her pages and trying to sort them into the proper order before looking up at the small grey man carefully marking his schematic “Are you really us leaving as soon as we get your ship built?” she says after a moment.

“Why? You thinking about coming with me, or do you want me to stay here with you?” Grey says looking over at her.

She simply looks into his eyes feeling tears welling up in her own.

* * * * *

Grey slowly stretches his arms under twinkling stars enjoying the feeling of the cool night air on his thin arms. He tilts his head back stretching his neck and shoulders while staring out into the black.

“Hey, Carla, what are you waiting for? It's a nice night out here!” He calls out to the curly haired woman standing in a nearby doorway.

She slowly steps out looking both ways before crossing a dirt road marked with deep jeep tracks. “Sorry, it's just cold out.”

“That's just your small fingers. Put on some gloves and you should feel fine! Here, sit.” he says patting the surface of a nearby picnic table.

She walks over slowly backing onto the top of the table and pulls her purse off her shoulder.

Grey hops up beside her dangling his short legs over the edge. “So how long have we been doing this, now? Hiding like animals in the dark while we slowly building a super weapon for your government. . .”

“It's been a year, maybe two years, I'm not sure. Please don't call it that, though. We are building a space ship, one we can use to get humanity to the stars!” She says digging through to bottom of her bag looking for her pair of black Isotoners.

“Come on, let's not pretend to be naive. I know exactly what I'm doing for you all. For me it's my chance to get back home, for you all it will be the weapon to end all wars.”

“I thought that was what the nuke was for.” She says slipping on her gloves.

“Heh, supposedly. It's never as simple as all that, though. Having the biggest, baddest weapons changes nations from being on the defense to suddenly scrambling for any excuse they can find to go on the offense. I've already heard rumblings about preemption. That's how it starts and then next thing you know, you are the evil empire that's threatening everyone else.” Grey says pulling a short hand rolled cigarette from his pocket and placing the tip of it in his mouth.

“Where did you get that!? That stuff is illegal. It's dangerous!”

Grey rolls his large eyes at her and pulls out his lighter to light it. “Tch, you believe everything you hear on the radio? This stuff isn't gonna cause madness. It actually does the opposite. It's calming my nerves which wouldn't need calmed if I got a bit of sunlight every now and then.”

“Say what you want, but it's still illegal!”

“Yeah, and so am I. What are they gonna do? Arrest me?” he says as he takes a long drag being sure to carefully blow the smoke away from Carla.

“Oh, that stuff stinks! I wish you would smoke tobacco instead.” she says fanning the front of her face.

Grey simply smirks watching her put on a show. “Nope, that junk doesn't work. Funny hearing you protesting now. You used to partake with me. You go and get married on me, they gave you a fancy title, and now you're going all proper on me!”

“We all have to grow up sometime, Mr. Grey.”

“Back to Mr. are we? Tch, what's this world doing to us?” He says a bit sullenly as he pulls the rolled paper from his mouth. “You can't tell me you don't want to have a go for old time sake.”

She looks at the gentle curl of blue smoke rolling off the end of it for a moment before reluctantly taking it. “You are a terrible influence on me, you know it?” She says before placing it between her own lips and taking in a long, deep drag.

“I just can't stand seeing you not being true to yourself, is all. You're bigger than all of this pretense and prudishness, and you know it.”

She blows out a long stream of billowing blue smoke toward the sky feeling some of her worry and tenseness slowly escaping along with it.

“See that? There's still a rebel in there, somewhere deep down, just looking for a chance to escape and run free.”

“Run away from her life and responsibilities with a crazy man from beyond the stars.” She says slowly before handing the roll back to Grey and pulls up her legs crossing her arms just under her knees. “Are we even getting close? Everyday that dream feels further and further away.”

Grey looks at the bruises on her wrists then down at the dirt and sand “It's slow. We have a lot of men working on it, but the technology just isn't there yet.”

She tucks herself further into her own legs resting her chin on top of her knees. “We're running out of time. Brass isn't happy with our progress. I'm starting to worry that they are going to shut the entire project down if we don't come up with something.”

“I doubt that. They spent all this time and money renovating this place and relocating everything so we could use the dried lake bed as a test site. Why go through all the trouble and resources just to shut us down a few years later?”

“Ha! Now who's being naive? You don't know the government the way I do! It's a bunch of old men with no real world experience, and even less patience, all jockeying for favor by making everyone who disagrees with them look foolish. They spent a ton of money on this project knowing that their enemies would accuse them of wasting tax dollars on us. They're demanding some kind of trinket they can throw back into their detractor's faces to prove that it isn't all a waste.” Carla says frowning as she looks down at her smoking partner.

“Science doesn't work that way.” Grey says trying to wave the comment away with a long hand.

“Yeah, but politics does, and for now politics is paying the bills.”

Grey huffs loudly looking back up at the sky. “Humans and your damned obsession with money. . . It's no wonder you all are so far behind.”

“You never cry.”

“Hmm?”

“I've seen you get sad. I've seen you sulk. I've seen you mope. I've never seen you cry.” Carla says staring down at him. “It's therapeutic, you know. You don't have to pretend to be tough for me.”

Grey laughs. “It's not that. I'm not pretending to be anything. My species can't cry.” he pulls at the bottom eyelid of his left eye. “See? No tear ducts. I couldn't cry if I wanted to, which I don't. It's just not an instinct my people have. Instead we use sarcasm.”

Carla laughs a bit “Wait, but if you don't cry then how do you clean dust from your eyes or keep them lubricated?”

“We didn't evolve from mammals like you. We came from amphibians.”

Carla tilts her head slightly still looking into Grey's large eyes.

He sighs a bit “We have a secondary eye lid that has a mucus coating for that. It's hard to show you because it closes at the same time as our primary eye lid, but here.” Grey grabs his top and bottom eyelids holding them open. They twitch painfully as he closes his other eye and slowly forces the slimy secondary lid to slide out from the side rolling away from the center of his noseless face. He lets go of his eye lids and blinks several times from the irritation. “Did you see it?”

“No I missed it. You'll have to do it again!” Carla laughs

* * * * *

A soft blue convertible speeds across a dried lake bed trailing a billowing cloud of dust and debris high into the bright blue sky. Behind it sirens and alarms ring out echoing across the desert. Carla holds onto a wide brimmed hat steering her car with one hand trying to maintain control while getting as much speed as she can out of the vehicle. In the passenger seat Grey sits on his knees watching chaos erupt from the military base behind them.

“We're doing this thing! We're actually doing it! We're going on the lamb like Boner and Clyde!” He yells over the sound of the engine roaring

“That's Bonnie and Clyde” Carla calls out looking over at him. “And I'd like this to go a lot better than that! Forgive me if I don't want to see you, me, and the car all filled with bullet holes!”

“Hey, I'm just glad to be out of the base and in the sunlight!” He turns around and stretches his arms. “It's been years since I felt the warmth of a star on my face. Where are we headed anyway?”

“Mexico. It's about the only place we can reach that won't expedite!” Carla says as she steers the car towards an unmarked dirt road. “This is stupid. This is idiotic. I had a future! I had a position. I had money! I had a comfortable life! I'm a married woman! What in the hell am I doing!?”

“I think this is called an affair, isn't it? Or do we have to sleep together for it to become an affair? Wait, what was eloping again?”

“It's treason! I'm going to be caught and killed. I'm going to get us both killed!”

“No, treason is when you betray your country.” Grey pauses for a moment “Ok, yeah this is treason. I mean for you. For me this is just a prison break. . . maybe oath breaking, too. Shit! I'm not helping am I?”

Carla bites her bottom lip shaking her head as the car bounces down the uneven road.

Grey slides over and puts one hand on her shoulder and uses the other to slowly stroke her back. “We're in this together now. You and me against the world just like its always been.”

“I don't see a way out of this. I don't know what to do. You're sure about that signal? There is a ship nearby and you can hail it?” She says fighting the urge to look into his eyes for comfort.

“Absolutely, it's not one of my people's but it's friends! I've got the radio from my ship all I need is something to rig it with to use as an amplifier and we'll have a pickup in seconds! Don't worry, I'm not going to let anything bad happen to you. We are going to see the stars, Carla. You and Me, out in space having a real adventure! No more stuffy military bases, no more shitty husbands, no more being yelled at for not being able to do the impossible! Real freedom!” He says gently patting her back.

“Alright, I'm calm. Please get back in your seat and buckle up. I can't do this without you.”

“Heh, yeah seat belts, like that crap ever helped anybody!”

The car swings a wild left screeching it's tires as it turns onto a paved road at full speed. Grey suddenly feels himself pulled away from Carla and flung over the passenger door. His long fingers barely reach the door in time, pulling his entire body down around the outside of the car. His eyes sink down to his feet as the road zips past, each bump and rock threatening to take off a foot as they scream past. Slowly he hoists himself back into the car.

“Alright, seat belts. Good call. Wouldn't want to get hurt.” He straps himself in still feeling his heart pounding away in his chest. “What's that sound?”

“They're scrambling choppers to track us. We need to find some cover to ditch this car and lose them.” Carla says feeling her own heart racing.

“Helicopters? Dammit! This is why you don't piss off the military. They have all the good toys!”

#writing #sci-fi & fantasy #scifi #science fiction

1 note · View note

writesfic · 5 years

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& & . B I O G R A P H Y

PRESENT

Derek feels more a little intimidated at his pack member’s subtle shift in allegiance. Though they still treat him as an alpha openly, he feels like they do not put enough trust in his judgement or treat his words with the gravity that they should. Not more than once, they had spoken out of line, and in the high of their emotion, ignored his orders completely, without regard or regret.

Derek is acutely aware that he is losing his grip over them as an alpha, but he does not know the reason why exactly. He fears that it is because he is too inadequate to be an alpha, causing his alpha powers to be revoked in a way that he has never heard or seen before. With hunters on the loose and the stuffy calmness before a storm, Derek feels raw and unprotected with his lack of authority and protection, causing his mood to be oftenly spordaic.

Currently, the only relief he has is Tanner Torres, whom he found unconscious and bloody during his patrol of the forest one night. Taking her home and caring for her, she has absolute trust and faith in Derek, a pleasure that he has never had before. Even though she unempathetic and ruthless, she’s no Kate, which is a tick in Derek’s books.

Meanwhile, Erica, Boyd and Issac have openly voiced their trust in Scott’s judgement and ability, which continues to frustrate Derek to no ends. He does not understand why a seemingly clueless, happy-go-lucky individual like Scott would be able to earn such respect, but he realizes that he himself isn’t doing a good job of controlling his pack either, which is what keeps his mouth shut around his pack and Scott himself.

With hunters crawling around Beacon Hills on high alert and an alpha pack ready to move in and strike, Derek’s nerves are alight with tension, and he feels helpless, as the inexperienced teenagers view the facaded peace as what it is on the surface, instead of what it really is: the calm before the storm.

PAST

Derek had been born a beta werewolf into a loving family, one which was filled with laughter and warmth. His mother, Talia Hale, was well respected within the werewolf community, and was frequently invited to international pack meetings and notable events within the werewolf community.

For a werewolf born into such a influential family, Derek had little to no interest about alpha werewolf proceedures or the power struggle of the werewolf hierarchy. He did believe that he would find a respectable position for himself in life, but he never strived to be top of the hierarchy; the sheer size of his family meant that he had no hope of adopting power to such a pinnacle of degree, or so he thought.

As a teenager, Derek didn’t have the best experiences in romance. In his early high school years, he had a whirlwind romance with Paige Krasiveva that had ended brutally. Paige had been bitten by Ennis, an alpha werewolf under Deucalion’s order, and her body had rejected the bite, causing her to die fitfully in Derek’s arms. Talia, had thankfully took pity on him and had locked the said memory away inside her claws so that her son didn’t have to suffer the trauma of the situation.

His second romance, however, with the infamous hunter Kate Argent, was much more destructive than his first. She had manipulated his feelings for her, milking vital information on the Hale pack. Gaining access to the Hale residence, Kate used the opportunity to seal the house shut with wolfsbane and set the house on fire, killing most of the inhabitants. Derek, naive and unknowing, had been disfigured after her betrayal, with no one adequate to piece him back together.

In school, people avoided Derek as much as they could after the incident. He had sunk into a state depression and self-loathing that people had found his presence draining, more often than not. His friends, had only shallow interpretation of his character at best, and had soon upped and left, leaving Derek bereft with no comfort or aid from anyone. Laura Hale, his sister, had been dealing with her own grief, could only reassure Derek to an extent. Furthermore, knowing that his actions had been a result of this tragedy, Laura’s grief was stifling and squeezed his heart like a cage.

The grief and regret usually had Derek sleepless at nights, and when he fell into oblivion, he would wake up choking on his breath only a few meagre hours later, phantom flickering burning his eyes like stardust, until he realized the burning sensation was merely his tears. He punished himself by constantly reminding himself of the incident, using Laura, the only artefact left from the fire to remind him of his shame, of his idiocy.

Naturally, when Laura had wanted to leave Beacon Hills, Derek followed. Without Laura, Derek was terrified, terrified that one day, his parents’ loving faces would become blurry, that the memories of the family eating dinner at the mahogany table, smiles on their faces, would dissipate like the effacement of a cloud. The routine in New York, however, had not given him the relief that he expected, and instead, made him desperate. With the utter normality of the situation, Derek found it easy to forget. Sometimes, he would wake with sleep still fuddling his brain and call for his mother. It was bad enough, but then he had to suffer Laura’s pitying looks alongside the grief and guilt welling in his gut when she realized what he had forgot. He fucking hated it.

Then Derek had graduated and entered college. Without the constant, pervading presence of his sister, Derek’s life had transformed into something relatively normal. Stuffy, somewhat, but with the cool, persuasive drink from the cup of sanity, Derek was eager for more. More often than not, he stayed in the dormitories, hanging out with his fair-weathered friends, inhaling junk food and gaming, with his only pressure being essay deadlines and exams.

The appearance of mysterious rogue alpha in Beacon Hills in Derek’s Second Year had once again scrambled his life. His sister, ever so responsible, had been adamant that she had to bring peace to Beacon Hills once more. Venturing back into Beacon Hills, she had set off with the intent of catching the killer, but had ended up a victim herself.

The death of her sister struck betrayal and panic in his heart. His sister’s death had not transferred the alpha powers to him, meaning that there was still someone alive in the Hale lineage. Returning to Beacon Hills, Derek attempts to search for the other known survivor of the fire and avenge his sister’s death.

However, the newly turned beta werewolf Scott McCall has been bringing him complications. Though Scott originally thought that he was the one who bit him and treated him as an enemy, Derek soon formed an unlikely truce with the teenager. Knowing that lone wolves never survive, Derek has no choice but to assume the role of a mentor and teach Scott control of his new abilities, if not only for the sake of gaining a little stability. With two beta werewolves somewhat packless in Beacon Hills, the whole idea of finding the rogue alpha seemed much more intimidating than before. Knowing that he has no choice, Derek attempts to use Scott to lure out the wayward alpha in Beacon Hills.

Upon finding out that it was his own uncle that murdered Laura, selfish indignance welled in Derek, and he found himself pleasured to take away the alpha powers from his uncle. Traumatized by his behaviour but knowing that he had to work fast if he wanted to keep his power, being the last member of the Hale lineage, he made quick work of easy prey, turning people who he knew would benefit from the bite. After turning Erica Reyes, Vernon Boyd and Issac Lahey, their power was lackadaisical at best. Attempting to recruit Scott McCall as another member of his pack, he is met with flat out rejection, as his lie about being able to turn back into a human broke the fragile trust between them.

Becoming desperate, Derek had no choice but to attempt to turn more people, as long as they were willing. This caused many complications that Derek now comes to regret, such as turning Jackson and causing the kanima dilemma. However the presence of his current pack gave Derek relief that he hadn’t felt in a long time. Struggling, he slowly found an anchor within his pack, steadying his previously volatile nature into something constant and heavy, still somewhat unidentifiable to himself.

FUTURE

Derek has not been given the luxury of time, so he has not stopped to think of long-term goals or his future. He currently is unemployed, living off the endless wealth inherited through his lineage, so financially, he has nothing to worry about. However, with the lack of stability in his life, it’s the least important factor he has to attend to as of now.

With the alpha pack soon to arrive and the loss of his pack imminent, he has to wrack his brains to come up with a solution to keep his pack together, or his carefully built sanity may fall into shambles once again. Derek does not want to have to seriously contemplate what he’d do if he were alone again.

#bio #2016

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ethelbertpaul444-blog · 6 years

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Something Suspicious Is Going On At The Old Pine Grove Mall

http://bit.ly/2Ac9EJp Cataloged in Creepy / Scary Stories Something Suspicious Is Going On At The Old Pine Grove Mall Grant Butler Updated October 16, 2018 0 Malls. The heart of any community is its shopping mall; it reflects the pulse of the area. By that definition, my hometown of Pinewood, Pennsylvania has all but flat-lined. Around here we have the Pine Grove Mall. Less than 20 years ago, Pine Grove was hopping. Everyone in the county would shop here. Restaurants would spring up like weeds and would grow just as fast. But that is just a dim memory anymore. People younger than I am only know Pine Grove as an abandoned old cluster of buildings with a thick layer of graffiti painted across dull grey walls. It could easily be a set background for The Walking Dead or something. Sadly, I’m not sure a zombie apocalypse would look much different. The people around here have gone the same way as the mall; from bright and exuberant to dull, lifeless, and bleak. Heroin is absurdly high here. I swear, the only people making any big money around here anymore are the dealers. Which was how I found myself at the old Mall last week. Being one of the town’s sheriff deputies means I know this town like the back of my hand. We’d been getting steady reports from locals about weird activity at the mall. Nothing new there. Kids loved to sneak in there on dares and to drink, smoke, get to second base, the usual. We usually took these reports with a grain of salt, but lately, there had been more calls than usual, so we were obliged to look into it. Walking up to the entrance, my breath came out in a cloud. Time to be on the lookout, because odds were good that there was probably some homeless guy in there or something. There is something inherently unsettling about abandoned public buildings. Perhaps it’s because you can’t help but imagine them bustling with visitors, you can sometimes feel the hustle and bustle of the past. But then you see the reality and it doesn’t look natural. Walking to the padlocked front double door, I got a closer look at the graffiti on the door. Even if I hated the sight of it, I couldn’t deny some of it was impressive. There was something inherently captivating about its raw pain, it just screamed out at the observer. After unwinding the chain and padlock, the front doors whined slightly as I opened them as quietly as I could. Stepping onto the cracked glazed floor of the entryway, I caught the damp bitter smell of mold invading the area, the scent mingling with that still lingering department store smell. That synthetic smell you automatically associate with corporate retail. Taking great care to shut the door partially behind me, I slowly crept inside, my narrow flashlight dancing on the surfaces ahead of me. It felt far chillier in here now. I didn’t like being here. Not one bit. The Pine Grove Mall had two levels. One was the entryway floor, which was technically the building’s second level. From the outside, you could see how the place was built on a quarry. Once inside, visitors could descend via escalator or elevator to the ground floor. Taking great care not to stumble on the escalator steps, I descended down onto the ground floor. It was filthy down here. Garbage strewn everywhere you looked. The only light besides my flashlight was from the occasional skylight above. Putting on hand on my gun in case I needed to protect myself, I walked forward. The air felt different here, denser. Every step I took forward, I felt like there were shadows moving on the walls. But every time I looked, it was nothing. Repressing that voice in the back of my head that told me to get out, I scanned the place. No homeless anywhere. All around me, the old vendors and stores were silent. I was just about to turn around and go back when I smelled it. A faint smell of smoke coming from what used to be Sears. I felt the hair stand up on the back of my neck. The old saying never felt more real; there was smoke, so there had to be fire. Turning off my flashlight, I crept around, taking great care to look around corners. Nothing. But I realized that the smoke was coming from the basement. Drawing in a deep breath, I silently walked down the stairs. The smoke thickened as I did. Most of the time, fire is a pleasant smell. Something about it is natural, inherently cleansing and earthy. This was anything but. It had a bitter, angry tinge to it. Sort of like how chemically induced fires smell different. The smell was noxious and heavy. Great, that meant whoever was down here was probably burning something they shouldn’t. Fucking meth heads. Doing my best to control the tightening in my chest, I inched forward. As I approached the door to the basement, I could see the outlines of a fire through a crack in the door. But just as I was thinking about how to deal with the situation, I stopped dead in my tracks. This was no small time drug deal, at least not one that I had ever seen. Peering through a small hole in the wall a few feet away, I could make out the shape of at least five figures. I had no idea what they were doing, but I knew it wasn’t good. People making meth was looking pretty good compared to whatever the fuck this was. There were five people that I could see, each tall and lean in build. Also identical was their attire; black hooded jackets, black pants, and the masks. The masks were those cheap costume store ones; milk white and expressionless. Just remembering them now gives me the creeps. I crouched there, simultaneously transfixed and alarmed by the sight. I could hear faint murmuring coming from the room, but I couldn’t make out any actual words. It was driving me crazy that I couldn’t see what exactly they were doing. The only other thing in the room seemed to be medium sized crates, stacked against the far side of the wall. I felt like I was a kid again, secretly watching adults doing something that I didn’t understand, but I knew wasn’t good. Right then, I heard the sounds of scuttling from behind me. Even now, I am amazed I didn’t yell out or anything at that moment. With a rapid glance behind me, I saw it was a rat. My hand tightly gripping the butt of my gun, I forced myself to calm down a bit. I didn’t know what to do. I was hoping that they wouldn’t hear it and investigate. Fortunately, they didn’t seem to notice. A few moments later, I saw something. In the glint from the fire, I noticed one of them was wearing a ring. A gold ring with a sapphire in the center, a custom job. I know because I’d seen it before. It was typically worn on the finger of Seth Lang; one of the towns more prominent citizens, a member of city council and one of the town’s few people of means left. Looking at the figure now, I could see he had a similar build to Mr. Lang. Want to know what the most disturbing thing of all was? I wasn’t even surprised. In a place like Pinewood, gossip tends to spread quicker than a forest fire, and gossip about Lang wasn’t good. I had never met the guy myself, but I knew people who had, and they all told me the same thing. He always made them feel uneasy. Seeing this, I knew what they meant. Believe me, I have seen more than my fair share of bad. But this was different. I don’t think I have ever felt so small before. Whatever this was, it wasn’t good. Smelling whatever that was they were burning, it stung my nose. Perhaps it was drug-related after all. Either way, it was time to make my leave. Every move I took made me hold my breath, I was hoping that I wouldn’t be seen or heard. Part of me didn’t want to take my eyes off the door as I left, so I did my best to look back and forth repeatedly. The air got mercifully clearer with each step I took. Internally, I was screaming “Get the hell out of there!” But fortunately, I was still in work mode and I knew I had to keep my head and stay quiet. No use running if it got me shot. Or worse. I didn’t know how many of them were here, so best to stay incognito. If possible, I felt even more terrified than when I first arrived. Every shadow I passed, I thought I could see the shape of the blank white mask lumbering towards me in the darkness. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, I made it the door I came in through. Casting a glance over my shoulder to make sure the coast was clear, I stepped into the cold night air. I had no idea what to do. As I walked back to my car, I couldn’t believe I actually saw that; whatever that was. I didn’t see anything explicitly bad, but I also didn’t see anything good. Well, It was also at that point when I felt the most fear. Something about the wide open space made me feel exposed, not to mention the dim but still operational light. Every step made me think that it might be the last before someone or something jumped me. When got back in my car, I don’t think I have ever been so happy to be back in a vehicle in my life. I felt like I was on the run from a rabid dog; something just aching to rip me to bits. Shoving my key into the ignition, I hastily started my car. I took care to get out of there quickly, but not so much that I made a bunch of noise. Looking around myself on every side, I was still alone. “Calm down,” I told myself out loud in the solitude of my car. But as you might imagine, that was easier said than done in this case. From a professional standpoint, I had nothing to report that was illegal. At best, all I saw was loitering or trespassing, with no way to know who it was for sure. I didn’t see anything explicitly bad, but I also didn’t see anything good. But that was my head talking. My instinct was screaming “Shady!” over and over. This was the worst part of my job. When I knew something was up, but there was nothing I could do about it but wait. Backup was a no go either. By the time they got here, whoever was down there might be gone. I decided that last word sounded amazing, so I kept on driving. When I got home, I felt the crushing silence. The sound had never before sounded so real—like a state of existence. Out of paranoia, I peered through my window blinds every few moments, only to find nothing there. Keeping my weapon handy, I went to bed. Sleep was not to be had, as I spent the rest of the night staring up at my ceiling fan. After dragging myself out of bed a few hours later, I went to work like I would normally. I felt simultaneously exhausted and wired. After sitting down at my desk with a massive coffee, I began to fill out some routine paperwork. As usual, the scent of stale Chinese food lingered in the air. I decided to file paperwork saying that I had seen nothing at the abandoned mall. But that was a task for the end of the day. I was at work for about two hours when my boss called me into his office. “Adam, I need you for a second,” Sheriff Hammond summoned me in his low, gruff voice. I always admired the man, because despite his job, I had yet to hear him raise his voice at anyone. A tall, slight man, he had these piercing black eyes. Being a former sergeant in the Marine Corps, no one in town would dare mess with the guy. The fact that he was my boss was one of the few things that helped me stay calm. I was at the safest place in town here. “Yes, Sheriff?” I stood in front of his desk expectantly as he reclined casually in his chair with his feet up on the messy surface. “The anniversary of the town’s founding is coming up and they are having the usual shindig. Was wondering if you’d mind working the street festival.” “Sure thing, no problem boss.” “Good man. Oh and by the way. What happened last night?” I froze on the spot, unsure of what to say. I could lie about what happened to anyone else in town, but not the Sheriff. I swear the man could smell a lie quicker than a snake smells prey. “Well Sheriff,” I began hesitantly. “I don’t know what exactly I saw.” He took his feet off the desk and was studying me. “All I know is it looked creepy as hell.” “You saw those bastards too huh?” he asked as if it were the most routine thing in the World. I could feel my jaw drop as I just stared at him. But that was the typical Jake Hammond. The man didn’t flinch at anything. “How did you,” I began to ask before he interrupted me. “My boy, I know this place like the back of my hand. There is a lot of shady things that go on here that I know of, but for a lot of reasons, I can’t do anything about. It’s not that I’m afraid. Not by a long shot. It’s because I know who and what I’m up against. A lot of boys over the years have taken calls just like that one. Most never return. Know why?” “No,” I couldn’t believe it was possible, but I felt even more afraid than last night. “Because those mask-wearing assholes always get them. Not with bullets. Well, most of the time they don’t. No, they use something more dangerous; bribes. Drugs, money, women, booze, whatever. Know what happens once they turn them?” “No,” “They put them to use. For something. Occasionally it’s just to look the other way on something. Other times, well, let’s just say there’s a reason why turnover here is so high. Every time there is a call out to that place, I keep a close eye on whoever goes out and how they act after. You, my boy, are different than the rest. You know it’s bad news. So tell me, who do you think was there?” “I think one was Seth Lang.” “Good man. Lang is the ringleader. Slimy little prick. Had my eye on him for quite a while now. He’s dirty.” “What exactly is it they do?” The Sheriff exhaled as he ran his hand over his bald head. “Few things. They do your typical small-time drug deals on occasion. But that’s not what keeps me up at night. No, they tend to use drugs as a means to control their merchandise. The merchandise being people. Women usually, but they are equal opportunity lowlifes if the demand is there.” “Human traffickers?” “Bingo. Area’s been a hot zone for the last few years. Ever since they did all that construction on the highways and whatever, this place is an ideal midway point. Crime is like real estate, location is everything. Oh and with the number of people around dropping dead from heroin around here, there are plenty of bodies that go missing. Hell, the coroner sometimes needs more freezers and most time no one claims them anyways. So there’s another business opportunity. Someone needs a kidney, no problem. Just get off what used to be old Highway 26 and you’re in business.” “So what do we do?” I had no idea where he was going with this. “Don’t you worry about a thing, my boy. I’ve been planning what to do for a long time. I just needed someone I could trust as my back up. All I need you to do is man the office when I say so and that’s it.” “That’s it?” I couldn’t believe that was all. “Yup. Believe me, old Seth has a lot of enemies. Powerful enemies. In virtually every field. They’ve been waiting to crack down on him and his associates and now they’ll have the chance. So, all I need you to do run the office tomorrow and it will be done.” I nodded and agreed I would. I spent the rest of the day in a haze, but the following day, I did just as he asked. It seemed to be just another day to me. The entire time I was there, I tried to stay calm, but inside I kept wondering what he was doing? Time seemed to drag painfully by. As the sun was setting, the Sheriff came back and offered me a nod. “Keep an eye on the news. Good work son.” He gave me a pat on the back. It was oddly comforting. The man had never done that before. The next couple of days I was on edge as I watched the news. But nothing caught my eye until yesterday. My heart dropped into my stomach as I saw Seth Lang being dragged away in cuffs, the local anchor giving some commentary about being indicted for racketeering and similar charges. But it was what I saw next that I couldn’t believe. The person who was being taken in right alongside Seth. A tall, slender guy about my age with a buzz cut. His name was Terry. I had seen his picture a million times; most recently right on his father’s desk where I sat at all day less than a week ago. More From Thought Catalog Sponsored A Millennial Cheesemaker’s Guide To A Happy Life Read more: https://thoughtcatalog.com/grant-butler/2018/10/something-suspicious-is-going-on-at-the-old-pine-grove-mall http://dailybuzznetwork.com/index.php/2018/10/17/something-suspicious-is-going-on-at-the-old-pine-grove-mall/

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the-connection · 6 years

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Cataloged in Creepy / Scary Stories

Something Suspicious Is Going On At The Old Pine Grove Mall

Grant Butler Updated October 16, 2018

Malls. The heart of any community is its shopping mall; it reflects the pulse of the area. By that definition, my hometown of Pinewood, Pennsylvania has all but flat-lined.

Around here we have the Pine Grove Mall. Less than 20 years ago, Pine Grove was hopping. Everyone in the county would shop here. Restaurants would spring up like weeds and would grow just as fast. But that is just a dim memory anymore.

People younger than I am only know Pine Grove as an abandoned old cluster of buildings with a thick layer of graffiti painted across dull grey walls. It could easily be a set background for The Walking Dead or something. Sadly, I’m not sure a zombie apocalypse would look much different. The people around here have gone the same way as the mall; from bright and exuberant to dull, lifeless, and bleak. Heroin is absurdly high here. I swear, the only people making any big money around here anymore are the dealers.

Which was how I found myself at the old Mall last week. Being one of the town’s sheriff deputies means I know this town like the back of my hand. We’d been getting steady reports from locals about weird activity at the mall. Nothing new there. Kids loved to sneak in there on dares and to drink, smoke, get to second base, the usual. We usually took these reports with a grain of salt, but lately, there had been more calls than usual, so we were obliged to look into it.

Walking up to the entrance, my breath came out in a cloud. Time to be on the lookout, because odds were good that there was probably some homeless guy in there or something. There is something inherently unsettling about abandoned public buildings. Perhaps it’s because you can’t help but imagine them bustling with visitors, you can sometimes feel the hustle and bustle of the past. But then you see the reality and it doesn’t look natural.

Walking to the padlocked front double door, I got a closer look at the graffiti on the door. Even if I hated the sight of it, I couldn’t deny some of it was impressive. There was something inherently captivating about its raw pain, it just screamed out at the observer.

After unwinding the chain and padlock, the front doors whined slightly as I opened them as quietly as I could. Stepping onto the cracked glazed floor of the entryway, I caught the damp bitter smell of mold invading the area, the scent mingling with that still lingering department store smell. That synthetic smell you automatically associate with corporate retail. Taking great care to shut the door partially behind me, I slowly crept inside, my narrow flashlight dancing on the surfaces ahead of me. It felt far chillier in here now. I didn’t like being here. Not one bit.

The Pine Grove Mall had two levels. One was the entryway floor, which was technically the building’s second level. From the outside, you could see how the place was built on a quarry. Once inside, visitors could descend via escalator or elevator to the ground floor. Taking great care not to stumble on the escalator steps, I descended down onto the ground floor. It was filthy down here. Garbage strewn everywhere you looked. The only light besides my flashlight was from the occasional skylight above.

Putting on hand on my gun in case I needed to protect myself, I walked forward. The air felt different here, denser. Every step I took forward, I felt like there were shadows moving on the walls. But every time I looked, it was nothing. Repressing that voice in the back of my head that told me to get out, I scanned the place. No homeless anywhere. All around me, the old vendors and stores were silent. I was just about to turn around and go back when I smelled it.

A faint smell of smoke coming from what used to be Sears. I felt the hair stand up on the back of my neck. The old saying never felt more real; there was smoke, so there had to be fire. Turning off my flashlight, I crept around, taking great care to look around corners. Nothing. But I realized that the smoke was coming from the basement. Drawing in a deep breath, I silently walked down the stairs. The smoke thickened as I did.

Most of the time, fire is a pleasant smell. Something about it is natural, inherently cleansing and earthy. This was anything but. It had a bitter, angry tinge to it. Sort of like how chemically induced fires smell different. The smell was noxious and heavy. Great, that meant whoever was down here was probably burning something they shouldn’t. Fucking meth heads. Doing my best to control the tightening in my chest, I inched forward. As I approached the door to the basement, I could see the outlines of a fire through a crack in the door. But just as I was thinking about how to deal with the situation, I stopped dead in my tracks.

This was no small time drug deal, at least not one that I had ever seen. Peering through a small hole in the wall a few feet away, I could make out the shape of at least five figures. I had no idea what they were doing, but I knew it wasn’t good. People making meth was looking pretty good compared to whatever the fuck this was.

There were five people that I could see, each tall and lean in build. Also identical was their attire; black hooded jackets, black pants, and the masks. The masks were those cheap costume store ones; milk white and expressionless. Just remembering them now gives me the creeps. I crouched there, simultaneously transfixed and alarmed by the sight. I could hear faint murmuring coming from the room, but I couldn’t make out any actual words. It was driving me crazy that I couldn’t see what exactly they were doing.

The only other thing in the room seemed to be medium sized crates, stacked against the far side of the wall. I felt like I was a kid again, secretly watching adults doing something that I didn’t understand, but I knew wasn’t good.

Right then, I heard the sounds of scuttling from behind me. Even now, I am amazed I didn’t yell out or anything at that moment. With a rapid glance behind me, I saw it was a rat. My hand tightly gripping the butt of my gun, I forced myself to calm down a bit. I didn’t know what to do. I was hoping that they wouldn’t hear it and investigate. Fortunately, they didn’t seem to notice.

A few moments later, I saw something. In the glint from the fire, I noticed one of them was wearing a ring. A gold ring with a sapphire in the center, a custom job. I know because I’d seen it before. It was typically worn on the finger of Seth Lang; one of the towns more prominent citizens, a member of city council and one of the town’s few people of means left. Looking at the figure now, I could see he had a similar build to Mr. Lang.

Want to know what the most disturbing thing of all was? I wasn’t even surprised. In a place like Pinewood, gossip tends to spread quicker than a forest fire, and gossip about Lang wasn’t good. I had never met the guy myself, but I knew people who had, and they all told me the same thing. He always made them feel uneasy. Seeing this, I knew what they meant. Believe me, I have seen more than my fair share of bad.

But this was different. I don’t think I have ever felt so small before. Whatever this was, it wasn’t good. Smelling whatever that was they were burning, it stung my nose. Perhaps it was drug-related after all. Either way, it was time to make my leave.

Every move I took made me hold my breath, I was hoping that I wouldn’t be seen or heard. Part of me didn’t want to take my eyes off the door as I left, so I did my best to look back and forth repeatedly.

The air got mercifully clearer with each step I took. Internally, I was screaming “Get the hell out of there!” But fortunately, I was still in work mode and I knew I had to keep my head and stay quiet. No use running if it got me shot. Or worse.

I didn’t know how many of them were here, so best to stay incognito. If possible, I felt even more terrified than when I first arrived. Every shadow I passed, I thought I could see the shape of the blank white mask lumbering towards me in the darkness.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, I made it the door I came in through. Casting a glance over my shoulder to make sure the coast was clear, I stepped into the cold night air. I had no idea what to do.

As I walked back to my car, I couldn’t believe I actually saw that; whatever that was. I didn’t see anything explicitly bad, but I also didn’t see anything good. Well, It was also at that point when I felt the most fear. Something about the wide open space made me feel exposed, not to mention the dim but still operational light. Every step made me think that it might be the last before someone or something jumped me. When got back in my car, I don’t think I have ever been so happy to be back in a vehicle in my life. I felt like I was on the run from a rabid dog; something just aching to rip me to bits.

Shoving my key into the ignition, I hastily started my car. I took care to get out of there quickly, but not so much that I made a bunch of noise. Looking around myself on every side, I was still alone.

“Calm down,” I told myself out loud in the solitude of my car. But as you might imagine, that was easier said than done in this case. From a professional standpoint, I had nothing to report that was illegal. At best, all I saw was loitering or trespassing, with no way to know who it was for sure. I didn’t see anything explicitly bad, but I also didn’t see anything good. But that was my head talking. My instinct was screaming “Shady!” over and over.

This was the worst part of my job. When I knew something was up, but there was nothing I could do about it but wait. Backup was a no go either. By the time they got here, whoever was down there might be gone. I decided that last word sounded amazing, so I kept on driving.

When I got home, I felt the crushing silence. The sound had never before sounded so real—like a state of existence. Out of paranoia, I peered through my window blinds every few moments, only to find nothing there. Keeping my weapon handy, I went to bed. Sleep was not to be had, as I spent the rest of the night staring up at my ceiling fan.

After dragging myself out of bed a few hours later, I went to work like I would normally. I felt simultaneously exhausted and wired. After sitting down at my desk with a massive coffee, I began to fill out some routine paperwork. As usual, the scent of stale Chinese food lingered in the air. I decided to file paperwork saying that I had seen nothing at the abandoned mall. But that was a task for the end of the day. I was at work for about two hours when my boss called me into his office.

“Adam, I need you for a second,” Sheriff Hammond summoned me in his low, gruff voice. I always admired the man, because despite his job, I had yet to hear him raise his voice at anyone. A tall, slight man, he had these piercing black eyes. Being a former sergeant in the Marine Corps, no one in town would dare mess with the guy. The fact that he was my boss was one of the few things that helped me stay calm. I was at the safest place in town here.

“Yes, Sheriff?” I stood in front of his desk expectantly as he reclined casually in his chair with his feet up on the messy surface.

“The anniversary of the town’s founding is coming up and they are having the usual shindig. Was wondering if you’d mind working the street festival.”

“Sure thing, no problem boss.”

“Good man. Oh and by the way. What happened last night?” I froze on the spot, unsure of what to say. I could lie about what happened to anyone else in town, but not the Sheriff. I swear the man could smell a lie quicker than a snake smells prey.

“Well Sheriff,” I began hesitantly. “I don’t know what exactly I saw.” He took his feet off the desk and was studying me. “All I know is it looked creepy as hell.”

“You saw those bastards too huh?” he asked as if it were the most routine thing in the World. I could feel my jaw drop as I just stared at him. But that was the typical Jake Hammond. The man didn’t flinch at anything.

“How did you,” I began to ask before he interrupted me.

“My boy, I know this place like the back of my hand. There is a lot of shady things that go on here that I know of, but for a lot of reasons, I can’t do anything about. It’s not that I’m afraid. Not by a long shot. It’s because I know who and what I’m up against. A lot of boys over the years have taken calls just like that one. Most never return. Know why?”

“No,” I couldn’t believe it was possible, but I felt even more afraid than last night.

“Because those mask-wearing assholes always get them. Not with bullets. Well, most of the time they don’t. No, they use something more dangerous; bribes. Drugs, money, women, booze, whatever. Know what happens once they turn them?”

“No,”

“They put them to use. For something. Occasionally it’s just to look the other way on something. Other times, well, let’s just say there’s a reason why turnover here is so high. Every time there is a call out to that place, I keep a close eye on whoever goes out and how they act after. You, my boy, are different than the rest. You know it’s bad news. So tell me, who do you think was there?”

“I think one was Seth Lang.”

“Good man. Lang is the ringleader. Slimy little prick. Had my eye on him for quite a while now. He’s dirty.”

“What exactly is it they do?” The Sheriff exhaled as he ran his hand over his bald head.

“Few things. They do your typical small-time drug deals on occasion. But that’s not what keeps me up at night. No, they tend to use drugs as a means to control their merchandise. The merchandise being people. Women usually, but they are equal opportunity lowlifes if the demand is there.”

“Human traffickers?”

“Bingo. Area’s been a hot zone for the last few years. Ever since they did all that construction on the highways and whatever, this place is an ideal midway point. Crime is like real estate, location is everything. Oh and with the number of people around dropping dead from heroin around here, there are plenty of bodies that go missing. Hell, the coroner sometimes needs more freezers and most time no one claims them anyways. So there’s another business opportunity. Someone needs a kidney, no problem. Just get off what used to be old Highway 26 and you’re in business.”

“So what do we do?” I had no idea where he was going with this.

“Don’t you worry about a thing, my boy. I’ve been planning what to do for a long time. I just needed someone I could trust as my back up. All I need you to do is man the office when I say so and that’s it.”

“That’s it?” I couldn’t believe that was all.

“Yup. Believe me, old Seth has a lot of enemies. Powerful enemies. In virtually every field. They’ve been waiting to crack down on him and his associates and now they’ll have the chance. So, all I need you to do run the office tomorrow and it will be done.” I nodded and agreed I would.

I spent the rest of the day in a haze, but the following day, I did just as he asked. It seemed to be just another day to me. The entire time I was there, I tried to stay calm, but inside I kept wondering what he was doing? Time seemed to drag painfully by. As the sun was setting, the Sheriff came back and offered me a nod.

“Keep an eye on the news. Good work son.” He gave me a pat on the back. It was oddly comforting. The man had never done that before.

The next couple of days I was on edge as I watched the news. But nothing caught my eye until yesterday. My heart dropped into my stomach as I saw Seth Lang being dragged away in cuffs, the local anchor giving some commentary about being indicted for racketeering and similar charges. But it was what I saw next that I couldn’t believe.

The person who was being taken in right alongside Seth. A tall, slender guy about my age with a buzz cut. His name was Terry. I had seen his picture a million times; most recently right on his father’s desk where I sat at all day less than a week ago.