#I heard he got mauled and eaten by a bear | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tidalcove · 5 months ago

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@amaeranthos asked: EMMETT AND ROSALIE ( the original prompt was five times kiss; instead, it's five cars. there's a point here, trust me ).

i. the 'she-devil' aka the 1948 ford super deluxe: rosalie's hands grip the steering wheel tight as she turns down the barely paved road, nearly skirting across dirt and pebbles as her freshly manicured foot dares to step further on the gas. her father, the real one, would only let her drive down the street of their neighborhood at most in his car to amuse her; always telling her that she needed to be safe and slow. she had hated it then. but now? she would give anything to be in the same room as him again. carlisle, the other father, had admittedly been more accommodating, even when he knew she drove out further than the safety of their home until finally giving his blessing for her to leave and not look back unless she wanted to. still, rosalie wasn't naive. she still played her part as a young, innocent black woman alone in the south and was smart about where she choose to joyride, choosing empty back streets that didn't get much traffic the deeper she got into the mountainous woods.

although the crimson red ford she had picked out for herself was hard not to notice, always drawing attention towards her whenever she pulled into town. it was the perfect fit for a devil's spawn.

as she continues her late night drive, rosalie suddenly feels her body tense - the knuckles of her fist growing red the more her bands bent the steering wheel. the car jerks to an abrupt halt due to her foot slamming on the brake, her honey eyes darting wildly across the road as every fiber of her being screams at her to turn away and don’t look back - to ignore the lingering scent she smells. rose sits there, frozen as the smell of fresh human blood burns at her nose and nearly drives her mad with hunger.

then it hits her. she hasn't eaten today.

carefully, the young woman pulls onto the side of the ride before shutting off the engine, its roar replaced by the sound of rustling tree leaves, owls, and various insects. rosalie steps into the cool, night air before slamming her car door shut, her nose crinkling at the outdoor smell as she closes her eyes, concentrating. it's hard filtering out all of the noise, her ears straining while she tries to focus on what she was looking for and - there! rasp breathing, a slowing heart beat...and a roar of a large beast. her head unnaturally whips to the right towards the sound and she's gone.

nothing good could be found in these mountains yet she races through them anyway, letting her senses guide her forward until she finally reaches what she seeks. it wasn’t unusual to stumble upon remnants of a camping trip gone wrong while out hunting; what was rare, however, was for the human to not only still be alive but have the attacker, large and monstrous, still looming over them. there's a part of rosalie that can’t help but be secretly annoyed that it just had to maul someone before it became dinner for her. she whistles harshly in order to redirect its attention and it works. the black bear rises on its hind legs once it spots her, bearing its fangs and letting out a threatening roar causing her to bear her own fangs in return.

the two beast circle each other in the camp clearing until the bear charges in her direction, nearly stomping over the dying man in the process.

rosalie can sense its strength but thankfully she’s much quicker, already leaping onto its back before it can even fully swipe a paw at her. the vampire's thighs wrap around its neck effortlessly, an audible 'SNAP' heard when she jerks her legs left with a hard twist. the bear slowly falls limp until it collapses onto the grass, leaving her panting from both the adrenaline and trying to resist the temptation that laid bleeding out a few feet away from her. her sharp nails dig into the bear's fur desperately and she needed to feed before she did something terrible - something she would regret. gradually her mouth begins to widen, the bones of her jaw stretching to an inhuman degree as she lowers herself to nearly cover its nape entirely.

the newborn's fangs glisten beautifully in the night and her bare, heaving shoulders shimmer like diamonds due to the moonlight illuminating the wrecked clearing. it was both serene and horrifying sight, the woman looking both ethereal and demonic with eyes crazed with hunger right as she was about to bite do-

❛ ....a-angel....? ’

rosalie's head snaps up as a single word breaks the silence of the night. her eyes meet the soft, brown eyes of the stranger who stares straight at her despite being on the very edge of death. her face is frozen, both in fear and confusion, while she watches cautiously as he continues to deliriously mumble to himself on the ground. a cry for his momma. then a desperate plea to a sibling he couldn't fully choke out the name of. all of this while staring at her for salvation. in a blink, she's kneeling closer to him - inspecting his face as the moon's light frames her head with a halo while she looks down at him.

❛ i...i can't help you. ’

her voice is quiet as she speaks to him, tender and sympathetic in its tone. he tries to speak but only chokes on his own blood, his unfocused eyes fluttering up at her like he knows her words are a lie. a small part of her wonders if she looked like this when carlisle had found her: frail and pathetic but also desperate and scared. had she begged for her life and then resented him for it? guilt itches at her throat at the thought or was it just the hunger? rose raises a hand to cover her nose, a futile attempt to stave off her own bloodlust while her mind struggles on what to do. was it better to kill him and end his suffering? or just leave him here and run away?

angel. why had he called her that? the word has her blinking back non-existent tears, the self-loathing she had for herself not subsiding for even a moment until she buries her sense of doubt. before she can change her mind, rosalie's already moving to lift the stranger onto her back and then she dashes her way south to georgia where she last knew the cullens to be. rosalie doesn’t know if he’ll want this life. a selfish part of her prays that he’ll never look at her with the spite and hatred that she had put upon carlislie on her worst days.

ii. the 'lady' aka the 1957 porsche 356 speedster: it was a quiet sunday with half of the coven thankfully gone. esme was away at church and edward, ever the momma's boy, had decided to accompany her. rosalie still could never tell if the church going was an act for esme in order to help keep up the illusion of normalcy for the family or if the woman truly stilled believed. as for rosalie herself? she never dared stepped into a church since the day she had 'died', secretly afraid that she would burst into a ball of flame or be struck down on the spot even after being told that many of the religious myths around their kind was untrue. the point was proven by esme always returning home chipper and perfectly intact in her sunday best. the worst part was the annoying, stupid smirk edward would wear on his face, a clear sign that he knew about her secret, irrational fear. ugh.

alice and jasper were away for the weekend too - something about helping jasper with his 'cravings'. she mostly tuned it out when carlisle had explained it all, not really caring what the recent additions of their so-called family did with their time. that left only her, carlisle and...emmett. it was actually somewhat surprising that the latter was nowhere to be seen, he had an odd habit of following her around like a lost puppy on days like th- why am i even thinking about him?! rosalie snipes to herself, huffing and refocusing her attention on the 'mysteriously' broken fuel pump that was the current source of her frustration this morning. fucking edward.

❛ i swear, ms. hale. ’ a familiar southern drawl interrupts her violent thoughts towards her younger brother. speak of the devil. ❛ it's a beautiful day out and here you are under a hood of a car. ’

rosalie lifts her head from under the car hood to scowl at him, that warm, wide tooth grin of his instantly greeting her while his eyes twinkle like he's in on a joke she hasn't quite gotten yet. ❛ i reckon you like those cars more than us people. ’ he stretches out his hand, politely handing her the missing part she had spent all morning trying to find. she doesn't bother to press him on how he found this, simply crossing her arms as he walks away with a wave and boisterous laugh.

always one to have the last word, rosalie speaks her next words in a harsh, low whisper - but not low enough to escape the ear of another vampire. ❛ why wouldn't i? cars don't disappoint you - people do. ’

iii. the 'stallion' aka the 1970 chevelle ss: her head is buzzing, her throat feels as if it’s on fire, and her ability to keep up this family facade had waned a long fucking time ago. while she’s busy fighting against her own trembling hands as she searches for her keys, edward calls after her ⎯ deliberately ignoring the string of expletives and insults she mentally throws his way in the process. he’s urging her to calm down, to get out of the car - to at least wait for carlisle to return home if she doesn’t want to talk to any of them. as he speaks, honey-colored eyes briefly glance up to see esme standing nervously by the front door in her rearview mirror. their so-called mom, typically so calm and composed, radiates worry and panic as edward continues to do most of the talking. rosalie knows how much the woman disliked hostility and strife; she knows exactly why she dislikes it ⎯ yet rosalie screamed at her all the same when esme tried to stop her from leaving.

she would regret it later. she always did.

rosalie knows that somewhere, alice and jasper are also watching, listening, and she stubbornly resists whatever fucking weird bullshit jasper does to make people 'calm'. after multiple attempts, rose finally succeeds at shoving her car key into the ignition before shifting her chevelle ss into drive. she doesn’t look back as she slams on the gas and speeds away; she doesn’t know where she’s going, just determined to get away from this house - from this life she didn’t ask for - rather than reaching a specific destination. she drives for hours, days even, speeding through empty backroads until the car begins to finally crawl to a stop. she can only sit there alone, her hands tightening around the steering wheel while trying to keep herself from screaming. she doesn’t react when the passenger door opens hours later and another slides in; she had smelled him, as well as the canister of gas he was carrying, hours ago. they sit in silence before she finally decides to speak. ❛ i don’t need your help.’

rosalie wished she could’ve told carlisle those same words the night he had found her. maybe she wouldn't be frozen in this hell.

❛ i know you don’t.’ the voice responds easily, calmly - that southern drawl of his never wavering. she can see emmett looking out the window from the corner of her eye, a subtle grin growing on his face as if again, he's still in on some secret she hasn’t figured out yet. ❛ i wanted to help anyway.’

iv. the 'savannah' aka the 1974 ford bronco: after seven decades of living, three therapists, and countless self-help books, rosalie hale was finally beginning to realize that she didn't like change. a fear of the unknown had sent her packing up a mismatch of clothes and booking a frantic flight to italy at the tail end of the 70s without a world to her family. it's where she would spend the next eight years, bouncing around from city to city while she added another degree to her already impressively long resume. during her travels rose eventually reached out to carlisle to at least let him know her current whereabouts; the concern for her was evident in his voice but he always stuck true to letting her make her own decisions no matter where it led. she didn't tell him she missed him when they talked.

in truth, she misses all of them and she stews in her loneliness about it for another year, thinking of all them during a late night in a french villa she had bought for herself a few months prior. she misses shopping and bickering over latest fashion trends with her sister. or talking for hours about anything and everything with her mother as they braided each others hair as well as quipping and sparring with her brothers. most of all, she missed him - even if he's exactly why she ran away.

fireworks shower the sky with a variety of colors, rose sighing wistfully as she tries to relax and enjoy the show. she can feel the heat of emmett's arm brushing against hers while they sat together on the hood of his car, a honey and cream ford bronco she had drove down to visit him in. she doesn't admit that it's a gift when she threw the keys into his hands or how the color instantly reminded her of his eyes when he was human. they sit and silence together before its broken, ❛ so while i've been traveling, i've been thinking.’

rosalie hums softly in acknowledgement but keeps her eyes on the beach, listening intently. everyone had their moment of leaving the 'nest' after they turned; emmett's had only taken longer than the rest of them. she visited from time to time, claiming that he kept annoying her about coming to see him when asked about it. it wasn't entirely the truth - but no one in the family ever pressed back on her words either. ❛ about what i want... about my feelings.’ he continues.

❛ and what's that? ’ rose hates how tight her throat feels when she responds, how she blinks back venom in her eyes and how her nails dig into the paint of the car with anxiety. her question is answered with silence until she flinches at his sudden touch on her cheek, snapping her neck towards him in surprise.

for most of the time she's known him, emmett's been an open book. you know what he feels just by looking at him. he was always the type to say what he meant. tonight's no different as he stares at her like he did all those years ago after he first woke up from his transformation: like she's heaven-sent. it terrified her then and it still terrifies her now.

❛ i...can't. i just...can't. ’ rosalie hates feeling weak - vulnerable. powerless. and there was nothing more powerless than another person holding her heart and shattering it. rose instinctively yanks herself away from him - but not missing the small flash of hurt across his face as she does so. before she can even process what she's doing, she's sliding off the car and running away as far away from him as possible...

the memory passes and rosalie finds herself still staring down at a notepad with various numbers neatly written in order - some of them crossed out once they became out of date. a therapist once suggested that she displayed avoidant tendencies - an observation she passionately rejected at the time...but was beginning to feel like had merit after another decade or two of self-reflection. she briefly glances up at herself in the mirror while she sits at her vanity, staring back at the girl still stuck in a moment, before rolling her eyes at herself and reaching for the phone receiver. anxiously, she dials one of the numbers and is nearly about to hang up in fear before it picks up on the second ring.

❛ hey rosalie. ’ rose can see the instant smile that blossoms across her face upon hearing his voice in the mirror and blushes. his accent has been slightly lost to time after all these years but she still enjoys the familiar twang that could be heard when he says her name.

❛ hi emmett. ’ she giggles back into the receiver, too happy to be peeved that alice the meddler probably hinted at her decision to call.

v. the 'ace' aka the 1970 ford mustang boss 429: cars, like people, each have personality or 'traits’ to them. some are too noisy or unreliable under stress. she disliked those with overt flashiness and no ounce of substance. sturdiness and consistency was key but not if style was compromised for the sake of it - rosalie hale did not do bland. jasper would often tease her about it whenever they visited a dealership together; mostly because she typically left unsatisfied by their meager selection. rose didn’t consider herself 'picky’, she simply knew what she deserved: the absolute best. she wanted a car that had it all: efficiency, beauty, smooth control, and most importantly, power. so similar to what people often do, she waited patiently for the ‘one’...except it just so happened to be a car rather than a person.

the ‘one’ for her had been a ford mustang, a 1970 boss 429 model to be it exact. it was her favorite model but they were absolutely rare beauties, only five hundred of them made during their production year. few things in life could make her of all people do a double take but the first time her eyes laid upon one, rosalie knew she had to have it in her collection. an embarrassing amount of years had been spent trying to find one up for auction and there were times when she felt like giving up in her search...until now. after thirty years of patiently waiting, rosalie had finally found someone willing to sell via a small enthusiast board online she had joined at the end of the millennium.

the internet was still such a strange concept to her but she was growing more and more in love with it every day - although she could truly do without the dial-up sounds. after the full transfer of ownership, rosalie did a third thorough inspection of the car to see what upgrades and fixes it would need in the future. regardless of whether emmett actually cared about these types of cars or not, he was faithfully listening to her explain every detail: from the type of car the engine would need to be replaced with for racing to the glorious white vinyl that made up the car’s reupholstered interior.

❛ i wish to go for a ride. ’ rosalie states as she drops the keys for the newly bought boss in his hands. ❛ you drive. ’

rose rarely let anyone drive cars in her collection - especially a new addition. if surprised by the decision, emmett didn’t make a show out of it.

an excited, mischievous grin immediately washes over her face once the beautiful purr of the engine cranks up. emmett just rolls his eyes with a laugh before shifting the car into drive and turning out of the cullen's driveway. she fiddles with the radio for awhile before settling on a station she knows they both like, propping her arm against the window after so she can enjoy the full blast of the wind through her hair. minutes turn into hours as they ride together and rosalie finds herself reflecting on a random memory from her past.

when she was just on the cusp of womanhood, still innocent and wide-eyed about love and her dreams for herself, she remembers her mother sitting her down once. most of the conversation was lost to time due a young, impressionable girl who thought she knew everything drowning out wisdom from someone she took for granted. but she does remember something specific her mother said to her that day: remember that love is an action word rosie.

she had never really thought about it much after, just writing it off as her mother nagging her about the future and skipping off to go about her day. years later with royce, rosalie had thought love to be in the form of lavish gifts and being paraded around town like a trophy. she had learned in the cruelest way that it wasn't.

❛ emmett. ’ rosalie begins quietly, turning her head slightly to inspect him with a furrowed brow. he was sitting back casually while he steered with one hand, fingers drumming absentmindedly to the beat of whatever song was playing on the radio. he smelt like vanilla and bourbon, the colors of autumn complimenting the plaid shirt he wore today. he looked handsome - he always did. ❛ i think i love you. ’

she turns back to her window once the words are said, her cloudy eyes remaining focused on the passing scenery as she fights the urge to dry heave or do something else overly dramatic. emmett's patient, letting his silence speak for itself before she feels his right hand tenderly embrace her left, squeezing it softly in quiet understanding. more time passes before she finally feels okay enough to face him again....just to see that trademark grin on his face as his eyes remain on the road. ❛ c'mon rose, you're just now figuring that out? ’

#there's a lot i can say about why i wrote certain things the way i did but i don't want to write an essay in the tags #might just ramble on discord #amaeranthos #rosalie : in character.#writing.#asks.

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kirnet · 1 year ago

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Don’t Wake the Ancients - Chapter 3

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Now, Dorotea was a patient woman. With her experience, she had to be. Lab work took time and a steady hand, research had to be done thoroughly and with intent. Nothing thrilled her more than sitting on her moth-eaten chair by the open window with a thick fantasy book.

But, dear God, her patience was getting tested today. The normal bullshit, like Mitchell’s bar getting rowdy with decades old blood feuds, she could handle. But her mother? New folk storming in and questioning her competence? That was new.

Perhaps, she thought as she took the phone from Douglas, she should be grateful for this return to form. Miss Benedict’s antics always earned a chuckle from Tina and Verda when they huddled in the break room.

“Langford,” she tried not to sigh.

“Dorotea!” Miss Benedict cheered, her voice raspy from a lifetime of smoking. One of Wayhaven’s oldest residents, Miss Benedict was an only child, unmarried, and childless. That, and with her former occupation as a maid for Mayor Friedman’s grandfather and then his father, left her far too isolated from the town. People looked after her, took her for car rides and made sure she was fed, and the little library the town proudly called its own was no stranger to her (or her late fines), but her books and her window could only entertain her active imagination so much. From almost the moment Dorotea became detective she had started receiving calls. “Conspiracies,” Miss Benedict called them. Groups of burglars moving through the night that only she had noticed, or the fact that her childhood pastor actually had the gift of healing and she was sure his great-grandson had inherited it. Dorotea always nodded, dutifully said she’d look into it if an actual crime had been alleged, and then made sure to leave a record when nothing turned up.

The door opened and shut behind her. Adam strode in, pea coat dripping onto the linoleum floors. He scowled, or maybe that was just his face, and entered Dorotea’s office when she gave him a nod of approval. “Miss Benedict, now really isn’t the best time.”

“Oh, I’ll be quick, dear. I had already told little Jonathan-“

“Douglas, ma’am.”

“Oh? He sounds just like his daddy. Well, I told little Douglas that that woman was in league with the Devil, and I have proof.”

Dorotea rubbed her eyes too hard, leaving spots in her vision. “Concrete proof? An item or something of the sort?”

Miss Benedict coughed. “No. But this is just like a case that your daddy took on nigh on thirty years ago. Grisly thing, that was.”

“Yes. Grizzly. Well, technically black. They were bear maulings.”

Black bears were usually shy things, easy to shoo away with a loud “Get!” and waving your arms. The only times that they posed problems was when a stupid hiker got in between a mother and cub or when they became too dependent on human leftovers. Dorotea was lucky that the station never had need to go put one down during her employment.

But her father had been different. Everyone in the town knew about the incident, even people who weren’t alive yet to witness it, like Dorotea. Three of Wayhaven’s men had been brutally mauled in the woods one weekend, their lunch pails in shards around them. While gruesome, only one animal in these hills had claws big enough to match the deep gouges that almost left the bodies unrecognizable. Her father, detective at the time, had gone out and killed the thing. It still remained in Wayhaven, in a little room the size of a closet that the library dedicated to a local museum, almost touching either wall. Dorotea heard that Mayor Friedman had thrown a stink about not having it in his office.

Miss Benedict tutted disapprovingly. “Dear, I know that’s what everyone thinks. But I know what I saw.” Her voice dropped, trembling, and Dorotea had to push the phone harder against her ear to catch the next words. “They were blue, dear. Blue and tall and terrible. Yellow eyes like hellfire, and their teeth-“

There was a loud crack, and Dorotea looked over her shoulder. The four members of Unit Bravo stood in a semi circle around her desk, starting at a spot. Farah said something, and Dorotea swore she could feel Adam’s pulse jump from where she was. Douglas just gave her a shrug when she looked at him.

Dorotea tried to make her voice as gentle as possible. Miss Benedict was raised in an era of brimstone and snake handling. It was only natural that she feared such things. “This is Appalachia. Sometimes people are, well, blue.” She continued as Miss Benedict sucked in a breath to argue. “The Fugates are a family with methemoglobinemia, a blood disorder. It just makes their skin look blue. No Satan, just good ol’ random chance.”

“And what of the yellow eyes?” cried Miss Benedict.

“I’ve got a young lady in my office with yellow eyes right now. You know how the Rutgers’ eyes are so pale that you can barely tell that they have irises at all? Sometimes people look unique.” Dorotea shifted the phone. “Tell you what. I read a real good novel about one of the Blue Fugate family members. I can have Douglas run it over to you tomorrow, if you’d like.”

The line was silent for a long time, so Dorotea could perfectly hear Douglas’s groan. She covered the speaker with her hand and whispered, “It’s either that or cataloging evidence with me. Your choice.”

He collapsed into his chair. “Ugh. Fine.” Garret snickered.

After an uncertain pause, Miss Benedict answered. “Fine. I suppose I can make some lunch for us.”

“I’m sure he’d love that. You take care, now. Call us if you need anything.”

She hung up, Douglas scowling as he took the phone from her. Dorotea made a wide loop around the station to ruffle Garret’s drying hair before heading into her office.

“Sorry about that. There’s cookies if- What in God’s name happened here?” Dorotea slammed the door behind her. Unit Bravo stood in her office, expressions ranging from mildly guilty to pissed. Morgan played with her lighter, flicking it open and closed with rhythmic timing. Adam faced the window, his back rigid. Farah and Nate were worrying over a chunk of polished wood in Nate’s hand.

Polished wood that perfectly fit the new chunk missing from her antique desk.

Adam didn’t turn when he spoke, but a muscle feathered in his neck. “It came off when I grabbed the edge of the desk. Our agency will pay to have it replaced with a sturdier material.”

“When you grabbed it? Jesus.” Nate passed Dorotea the shard of the desk, one that had sat in this station for as long as it existed. She stared at Adam with renewed curiosity, trying to imagine the contour of his muscles through the sleeves of his coat. “What are they feeding you?”

“Nothing out of the ordinary.” Adam’s hands balled into fists, but Dorotea detected more than a hint of pride in his voice.

Dorotea ran her fingers over the splintered edge, frowning as she set it down. Maybe some wood glue would do the trick, but she suspected that the carpenter would be happy for the call. “I’ll get it fixed. Just please try to leave the rest of my belongings intact.” She walked past a stiff-as-a-corpse Adam to her whiteboard, uncapped the pen, and started to jot down a summary of this morning’s investigation. “I assume they already filled you in?”

“Yes.” He gritted his teeth. “What is your next plan of action?”

“Tina, our other officer, should be back from notifying the family soon. I’ll want to touch base with her.” Dorotea tapped the marker against her bottom lip. “I suppose the cabin by the lake needs to be investigated again. I was interrupted before I could finish.”

Adam shot her a glare, but Nate was the one who answered. “We can handle that, Detective. It’ll give us more chances to familiarize ourselves with the area.” He gave her a glimmering smile as Dorotea opened her mouth to argue. “Let us help. That’s why we’re here.”

Dorotea swore she saw Farah frown at the last part, but it disappeared so quickly that she might have imagined it. “Fine,” she reluctantly agreed, mentally chiding herself for the surge of defensiveness in her chest. “Thank you, Nate. There should be extra jackets in the locker room if you need them. And don’t forget gloves.”

The team filtered out, Farah clapping Adam on the back as she whispered something in his ear. Nate paused the door. “I can’t imagine how stressful this is for you and the whole town. Unfortunately, it’s something that we’re pretty used to.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “But I meant what I said. We want to catch this guy as much as you do.”

“I know. Thank you, Nate.” Dorotea smiled. “I’m glad to be working alongside you.”

“The feeling is mutual, Detective.”

“Please, Dorotea.” She waved a dismissive hand. “There’s no need to be so formal if I’m not extending the same courtesy to you.”

Nate let out a melodic chuckle. “Thank you, Dorotea. We’ll meet you back here when we’re done.”

“Actually, you can meet me at the bar,” she stepped out with Nate, making her way towards Garret. “I prefer to know the people I’m working alongside. My treat, of course.”

“I’m not…” Nate trailed off, glancing at his team walking into the parking lot, none of them wearing a spare station jacket. “Adam won’t approve.”

Dorotea snorted. “I doubt he approves of anything. But it’s up to you.”

“Can I come?” Garret asked, his homework abandoned as he watched the exchange.

“Hell no, kid. I enjoy my teeth. Wait until you’re twenty one.”

“But Douglas goes out all of the time!”

“Sounds like you have your hands sufficiently full,” Nate laughed as Douglas whirled around. “See you tonight.”

Garret watched him leave, his expression falling. “I’m not wasting your time, am I?”

Now looking through Garret’s binder, Dorotea stopped, the papers rustling as she slammed it shut. “Now why would you think that?”

He shrugged, disappearing into his jacket. “You’ve got a murder to solve, right? You should be, I don’t know, collecting evidence or whatever. Not helping me with useless stuff like this.”

Dorotea sighed and pulled her chair forward until her knees were almost touching Garret’s. “One, don’t you ever call anything you do useless. And two, the truth is I probably won’t be able to spare the time to help once more evidence comes in. But I can at the moment, so I will.” She put a hand on his shoulder when he looked down at the desk. “The living are just as important as the dead, kid. My job is to help you, so I will, alright?”

Garret shook his head and wordlessly reached for his binder. Math and chemistry were first, and Dorotea propped her boots up on the desk as Garret flipped through his notes. After a bit of clarifying concepts and creating example problems on spare pieces of printer paper, Dorotea grabbed warm drinks from the break room for all three of them: coffee for her and Douglas and a mug of warm cider for Garret, though she noticed that Douglas shoved a few more cookies into his grimacing mouth after taking a sip.

Thankfully, Tina returned before Dorotea had to make an attempt at his art history homework. She almost shook like a dog when she walked in, bright eyes dull and curly hair flat, though she still had a spring in her step as she came over to the desk. “Thank God, some sunshine.” She flopped into the chair that Dorotea kicked her way. “How are my two favorite people doing?”

“Musing the significance of the Bauhaus movement’s influence on postwar art,” Garret answered, his eyes drifting down to the paper in front of him.

“Not even a damn hello.” Tina scooted over and leaned on Garret’s shoulder, earning a giggle as she looked over his homework. Dorotea excused herself to write up her findings from Janet’s apartment, her cell phone always in sight in case Unit Bravo called. When she was done Tina drifted into her office, Garret packing up his belongings.

“How’d it go?” Dorotea asked softly as Tina leaned against her desk.

She sighed. “Awful. I never want to do that again. The Greenlands were sweet, though, despite everything. Told me that Janet was taking a year off from her engineering degree after a breakdown to focus on her photography.”

Tina trailed off as Dorotea grabbed her hand. “We’re gonna find the bastard who did this, alright?”

“I know,” she sniffed, squeezing back. “I know we will.”

Dorotea’s phone pinged, and she picked it up after quickly running her thumb over Tina’s knuckles. The text was from Nate, announcing that Unit Bravo had finished their investigation of the cabin. “Some government folk are here to help us. I’m about to meet them at Mitch’s if you want to join.”

With a tired smile, Tina waved her hand. “Sounds like a blast, but I should get the kid home.” And then she snorted, eyes crinkling. “God, what happened here?”

Tina was always the one dragging Dorotea out, her heels planted as she offered up every excuse to stay in, just as she was always the one pushing her friend at any single person that happened to walk in through the bar’s doors. “Trust me,” Dorotea said with a hint of a scowl, “you ain’t missing anything with them.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” Tina wrapped her arm around Garret’s shoulders, both of them waving goodbye. When Dorotea was ready to head out, her hat adjusted and jacked zipped against the chill, she did a final loop of the office, a habit to make sure Tina or Len hadn’t misplaced their keys. What she found instead was a piece of paper left on Tina’s desk, something written at the top in bold red ink.

She picked it up, eyeing the answers to each question. Only two had marks next to them, leaving Garret’s thermodynamics test with a score of 93%.

Dorotea’s cheeks stung as she smiled. “Atta boy,” she whispered, finger tracing the red smiley face next to the score.

Mitchell’s was the only bar in town, so it followed that it was usually busy, especially on the weekends when the bluegrass band took to the stage and too much whiskey put everyone in a dancing mood. But today it was downright overflowing, each booth and table and bar stool occupied. If the miners couldn’t work in the rain, then they would find other ways to warm up.

The door slammed shut behind Dorotea, and a chorus of “hellos” and cheery waves followed her as she wove her way to the bar, narrowly avoiding a pool cue to the stomach. Mitchell greeted her with a smile, already pulling an amber ale for her. “On a work day? I’m scandalized.”

“Still working, I’m afraid.” Mitchell shooed a man away from his stool so that she could sit down. “Got some people to introduce y’all to.”

“Newcomers?” Mitchell raised a brow as Dorotea took a long drink. “Alive, I hope.”

Dorotea shrugged. “You come to your own conclusions.”

They chatted for a while, a few drunks spilling out into the darkening evening, but the bar remained just as loud. Mitchell helped her secure a table, forcefully suggesting that its former occupants find another place to sit. They just laughed, pressing a kiss to Dorotea’s hand as she shoved a crumpled bill into one of their shirt pockets for the trouble.

She knew her wait was over when a hush fell over the bar, the screaming wind and creaking floorboards the only sound. Unit Bravo tensed as every pair of eyes fell on them, the silence louder than a swarm of cicadas on a humid summer night. Adam glared right back, his gaze hardening even further as he caught sight of Dorotea motioning them to come over.

“If this is what you consider work, then our killer should consider himself lucky,” Adam scoffed, looking down his nose at her. “Is this what passes for police work around here?”

“Hilarious, considering you didn’t want me involved with this case in the first place. Sit.” Mitchell brought over a bottle of whiskey and a few shot glasses when Dorotea raised her hand.

Nate and Farah complied, the former with an air of calm and the latter already curiously turning the bottle in her hands. With a scoff, Morgan pulled out a chair, snatching the bottle from Farah and pouring herself a shot, puffing on her cigarette all the while. Adam remained standing, large hands balled into fists. “This is a waste of time.”

Dorotea snapped, “For me, maybe, but it’s invaluable to you. If you have any intention of getting work done in this town, then the people will have to know who you are, and they have to know you’re with me.” She jutted her chin towards the bar, most of the people still watching the exchange with obvious interest and scrutiny. “Right now, all these people see is a bunch of elitist Feds from the city who think they’re too good to take us seriously. So, sit.”

Adam raised a brow, but after a moment he pulled out a chair. Dorotea blinked, taken aback for a moment, before filling the remaining shot glasses. “Good. Now, drink.”

Farah coughed, Nate politely took a tiny sip, and Morgan downed hers without any fuss, just removing the cigarette from her lips for only a moment. Only Adam’s remained full as Dorotea threw hers back, a comfortable burn working its way down her throat.

Someone whistled. “Best listen to her, folks. Them Langford women bite.”

“We’re aware,” Farah laughed.

The sound of pool resumed and a few people returned to their habits as Dorotea took Adam’s shot. Heat bloomed across her chest and down to her fingertips, her back slumping into the chair. Morgan watched her, eyes lidded. “If you want the town to feel secure, sweetheart, then announcing you’re working with us is plain stupid.”

Dorotea adjusted her cattleman hat. “You mean going behind their back? Reporting everything I know to you?”

Morgan shrugged. “It’s the smart thing to do.”

“And I refuse to do that. It ain’t honest. They trust me to do my job, and I won’t betray that trust.”

“Even if one of them is the murderer?”

Mitchell barked out a laugh at Morgan’s glinting question. “You got some strong accusations, ma’am. And you’d be right to think that if Dorotea wasn’t such a bloodhound.”

Suddenly the room was stifling. Dorotea fanned her flushed face with her hat. “It wasn’t nothing, Mitch.”

“Nothing?” The voice belonged to Kenny Smalls, one of the miners at the pool table. “With it raining like it is, I’m half surprised you haven’t sniffed out the culprit already.”

“I sense a story here,” Nate chuckled, resting a hand on Adam’s arm when his jaw fluttered.

Always the chatterbox, Mitchell leaned forward, the patron waiting for his next drink totally forgotten. “It must have been two years ago now,” he started, voice taking on a practiced timbre, “that it last rained like this. The cricks turned into rapids and our cellars flooded. Hell, our houses too, if our windows weren’t set correctly. One night a family was driving through these roads, coming back from a camping trip or something of the sort. They must have lost control of the car, because later we found it wrapped around a tree.”

“It was an awful thing,” Dorotea mumbled, rubbing her chin. “The parents died instantly on impact, thank God, but that poor kid…”

Mitchell nodded. “The kid took to the woods to find help, but then it started thundering and, well, three days later and no one could find him.” The bar was silent again, the memory still fresh in everyone’s minds. “Of course everyone dropped what they were doing to find him. The mines closed, and so did the school and shops, and we all split up. Tea was just in the morgue, then, but she led one of the search parties.”

Dorotea sighed, but she still filled the space Mitchell left for her. “Really, it was nothing special. If the valleys are flooding, you’re going to get to high ground. It’s just logic.” She pressed her glass against her cheek. “Though I was terrified that poor kid had found himself trapped in some mine or cave. But no, he was on one of the high ridges, hungry and freezing and mute but alive.”

“She’s just being humble.” Kenny saddled up to their table and clapped Dorotea on the shoulder. “It was like the damn forest itself opened up for her. Trails that had been impossible to pass through the day before were suddenly wide open. It was damn biblical.”

“It was lucky,” Dorotea corrected. “And based on deduction. Captain Sung offered me the job when the last detective retired.”

“And the kid?” Nate asked.

“With his grandparents in the city. Physically, he’s healed.”

Dorotea half expected Adam to scoff, to bring up the fact that one example of success did nothing to accurately judge her abilities as detective, to the fact that she had never been an actual cop. The man just reeked of military service, from his hair to his dress to his rod-straight gait. But he didn’t. He just watched her, a peculiar look settling in those spearmint eyes, saying nothing.

“Thank God,” Dorotea almost cried when Verda came into the station the next morning.

He raised a manicured brow, a day of rest returning him to his usual ways. “Is this place that chaotic without me?” He tutted as they entered the break room together, enjoying their coffee far from the basement door.

“I need my damn lab work,” she grumbled before she relaxed the knot between her brows. “How are you holding up?”

“Fine. Taking a day off was… nice,” Verda breathed as he stirred in his creamer. “We just stayed inside, cuddled up on the couch, watching whatever awful movie the girls wanted to. It was wonderful.” He cleared his throat. “I should continue where we left off.”

“Not without saying hello to me, you’re not.” Tina skipped into the room, constitution restored by the rain-splattered box of Haley’s muffins in her arms. She frowned as Dorotea and Verda both grimaced. “What? Y’all start a diet or something?”

“Dorotea can explain.” Verda dismissed himself, downing what remained of his mug before bumping Tina with his hip and heading to the lab.

So Dorotea did, Tina munching happily all the while. “I thought you already knew about this,” Dorotea said. “The captain should have called you if there was a potential for spread.”

Tina shook her head. “I got a call from him, but it only lasted for a second before he cut it off. I just thought that he was looking for some paperwork and then found it.”

Dorotea frowned, her fingers finding the brim of her hat. “Suppose that’s when the agents showed up.” She looked up. “Well, speak of the devil.”

Unit Bravo strode in together, always together, and welcomed themselves into Dorotea’s office. “So those are the agents?” Tina asked, peeking around Dorotea’s shoulder as Adam removed his useless sunglasses. “Where’d you find them, Vogue?”

“Just… keep an eye on them,” Dorotea sighed, mentally preparing herself for whatever spat she would inevitably get herself into with them. They were new and they were government, that was reason enough to track their movements as they interacted with a town who certainly did not want them here. But somewhere deep in the pit of Dorotea’s stomach, the place she shoved all of her doubt and fear and superstition, was an ache that told her to be cautious. She hadn’t been able to shake it since Adam had opened his mouth in the morgue and she’d suddenly smelled capsaicin, no matter how many times she told herself it was completely irrational.

“You don’t have to tell me twice.” Tina leaned over to get a better view through the window in Dorotea’s office. With an over exaggerated huff, Dorotea took the palm of her hand and pushed Tina’s face away, earning a squeak from the shorter woman.

“Mornin’ folks.” A chorus of greetings and grunts echoed as Dorotea entered her office, ran her finger over where her desk corner used to be, and sat down. “Find anything at the cabin?”

Morgan raised a brow. “You couldn’t ask us that last night?”

“In front of everyone? No.” Dorotea leaned forward on her elbows. “That was to get you acquainted with the town, not to spread the details of this investigation before we’re ready.”

“We found nothing but rotting wood,” Adam answered from his usual place by the window.

“No vagrants attacking each other?”

Adam narrowed his eyes. “No.”

Dorotea released a breath. “Damn. I was hoping there’d be something. Good news is that Verda’s back, so we should have more to go off of at the end of the day.”

“So much hope,” she thought she heard Adam mutter.

“Is there something special about the cabin?” Nate asked, his knee drawn up as he sat in the office’s only plush chair. “Pardon my observation, but you seem tense when you mention it.”

“Tense?” Dorotea was always tense. Hell, you had to be worried for her health when she was relaxed. She mulled over the question, wondering how to best respond. “That cabin has… history. Odd things happen around there and people-“ she paused to scoff- “see things that shouldn’t be possible.”

Miss Benedict always claimed that the veil was thin in Wayhaven, whatever that meant, but every town in Appalachia had made that same claim before. Unexplainable things happened, but that doesn’t mean they would remain unexplained in the future.

Adam grunted, and if the sound wasn’t so harsh Dorotea might have taken it for a laugh. “You don’t believe in such nonsense, do you?”

“Superstitions have their place,” she snapped in response, protectiveness surging in her veins. “These are the oldest mountains you’ll ever come across. Ain’t no telling what this soil has seen. People seeing the echoes of that seems only fitting. I don’t need to believe in it to-“ Dorotea swallowed, “-to have seen it myself”

“But that’s completely irrelevant to the case,” she added when Farah perked up.

“On that we both agree,” said Adam.

Dorotea was so taken aback by the casual admittance that they actually agreed on something, no matter how inconsequential, that she almost missed her office phone ringing. It was Verda on the other line. “You’ll want to see this.”

“I finally got around to looking at the blood sample you took from the cabin,” he started when Dorotea, Adam, and Nate came through the lab door, not even looking up from the microscope. “It’s exactly like Greenland’s.”

“You sure you’re looking at the right sample?” Dorotea leaned over Verda’s shoulder. When he finally got the hint, he scooted his chair over, allowing her to take a look.

Verda adjusted his glasses with a scoff. “Who do you think you’re talking to? Of course I am.” He sighed, his head tilted back. “It’s too small a sample for a DNA test. Not one that can be used in court, anyway.”

Adam cleared his throat, startling both Dorotea and Verda into remembering his existence. “You collected a blood sample from the cabin?”

“Yes. I thought you read my report.” Dorotea gave him a quizzical look, one that quickly shifted to Nate as he fiddled with the edge of his leather sleeve. “From the fight I witnessed? Apologies, Verda. This is Commanding Agent du Mortain and Nate, two of the agents assisting the station.”

Verda raised a brow as she said the names, but he offered nothing more than a polite “nice to meet you” and a curious glance. “Exactly how rare is this blood mutation, Commanding Agent?” What were the chances that two people in such a small population had it?

“Reasonably small,” Nate answered instead, his head almost touching the overhead light. “I’m not familiar enough with it to give you an exact statistic, but I can request that Agent Langford compile a write-up from our scientists for you.”

“Which should have already been done in the first place,” Dorotea chided, eye already glued back to the microscope. Sure enough, many of the cells were just… gone. Disappeared. She worried her bottom lip between her teeth as she straightened up, the look between her and Verda confirming that they were, in fact, still breathing safe air. “What’s the status of the hospital?”

“Hospital” was a generous term for it. The Adelaide Memorial Hospital was more a collection of rooms, outdated equipment, and a helicopter pad. Situated about an even distance from the three towns of Wayhaven, Yellow Crick, and Pike’s Haven, and much closer to Adelaide, the hospital served the entire rural area. If you were near death enough to not worry about killing yourself on the sigogglin roads then you might even get there in time for someone to treat you. But the reality was that most people in Wayhaven knew how to tend to their own wounds, and those that didn’t could usually be helped by the only fire station in town. Even still, Dr. Turner made sure his hospital was as prepared as it could be with such limited nurses, though he often made his rounds to each town to make sure that everyone had adequate care.

So it wasn’t really a surprise when Verda rolled his eyes. “I haven’t heard anything. With our luck, Mac is still driving it over.”

Knowing the way Ol’ Mac drove when it was sunny and drier than a bone, that wasn’t out of the realm of possibility. “Missing the city yet?”

“Once we have about fifty more bodies in this morgue, then I might start.” Verda turned back to his work. “I’ll contact Dr. Turner when I get a chance. Focus on your investigation.”

Dorotea figured she should feel guilty for being so relieved that Unit Bravo was not at the station.

Apparently, Rebecca needed to speak with them urgently, and before she could stutter out a polite goodbye they disappeared into the rain. Douglas bravely ventured to Miss Benedict’s with a novel tucked under his arm when Dorotea promised that he could take the rest of the day off. Verda contacted the lab and cursed whatever rookie technician they had hired over their lunch in the break room, the smell of reheated daal perfuming the air. “Damn amateurs,” he grumbled, too preoccupied in his thoughts to notice Dorotea ripping a piece from his roti.

The rest of the day had been so perfectly mundane that she almost forgot about the body in her morgue. Kenny Smalls and Paul Rutger were having some pissing match in front of Kenny’s apartment when her and Tina rolled up, his front window shattered. “That damn kid,” he accused, waving a baseball in front of Dorotea’s face, “is always breaking my shit.”

“How many years has it been since they graduated high school?” Tina whispered to her, watching as young Tim Rutger, Paul’s son, picked at his cuticles, his attention nowhere near the familiar spat in front of him.

Dorotea didn’t bother to whisper her reply back. “Thirty.” The men quieted after that.

That left her in the office after close, double checking her report of what could barely be called an incident and Verda’s autopsy analysis. While hard to determine for certain at the moment, he concluded that the most likely cause of death was shock brought on by blood loss, though the nature of Greenland’s condition meant that more rigorous testing would have to be conducted.

She rubbed her burning eyes as she leaned forward, returning her chair to its upright position. Her signature hat was abandoned in some corner, as was her jacket and belt. The only person who could judge her at the moment was Len, and he was used to the sight enough that he just continued to work on his crossword puzzle.

What else did she have to do today? Right. Evidence locker.

It was easy enough to find the chain from the Abernathy’s farmhouse, most of the items in storage relics of her father’s era and before. She examined it in her office, frowning as she took it from the bag. If a key had been used then just the lock would be open, but the chain was split in half, though the cut was jagged, almost splintered like the corner of her desk. She had never seen bolt cutters leave such an uneven mark.

She ran her fingers along the chain. It was cut in the thickest part through the entire link, cleaving it in two uneven pieces. Almost like someone had pulled it apart instead of cutting it.

After double checking that Len was occupied, Dorotea put all her weight into the thick chain, doing her damndest to break it in half. When nothing happened, she pushed against one of the unharmed corners of her desk until sweat dripped down her neck. It didn’t budge.

Flushed, Dorotea flopped back in her chair. She’d have to keep an eye out for irregular cutting tools. Maybe some kind of saw? Miss Benedict would for sure say it was the work of strange spirits, their talons sharp and-

Dorotea stood abruptly and walked back towards storage.

She supposed she would have to thank Miss Benedict for the idea that popped into her head. She herself had never encountered a murder while working as detective, but that didn’t mean her father hadn’t. All she needed was an indication of his workflow, something that would trigger any new idea while she waited for Adelaide Memorial to get back to her.

It took longer to find the dust covered boxes in the back, the cardboard eaten through by a variety of different critters. With great effort, Dorotea hauled a box down from the shelf, almost dropping it on her foot when her arms gave out. Inside were dozens of manila folders, all ripped and discolored and full of ratty papers.

Dorotea pulled the first file out.

It was nothing of use, just some alleged stealing of Margo Catskill’s wedding ring, but Dorotea read through the entire thing anyway, drinking in the words of a man she had no memory of but loved anyway. Instinctually, she reached up for her hat, forgetting that it was in her office.

She continued to flip through the old files, memorizing the cadence of her father’s voice as she read about every problem in the town, some known to her and some new. After what seemed like ages, she finally came across a suspicious death. She wasted no time opening the file.

Half of the third page was blacked out.

Dorotea frowned, flipping through the pages, finding familiar censor bars on most of them. She had read enough to know when her father was speculating or backing up his claims with hard evidence, and it seems both were blacked out equally. She threw that file to the side and picked another one, scowl deepening when she discovered the same thing.

These were internal files meant for only the station’s eyes. There should be no reason to censor anything.

Frantic now, she tore through the box, haphazardly discarding the files to either side of her. She thumbed through one, threw it away, and then snatched it up again, almost ripping the paper.

“… with aid from Agent R. Schneider…”

Schneider. Rebecca Schneider. Her mother’s maiden name.

For Dorotea’s entire life, Rebecca had been gone, too busy with a job she could never explain. “Security,” she would say. “Public sector.” Which Dorotea took to mean something like the FBI, investigating national threats. Frankly, she never cared enough to ask and risk a prolonged conversation with her mother.

But now she cursed that line of thinking. What the hell did the FBI want and Wayhaven, now and thirty years ago? And come to think of it, no one had shown her a badge…

She almost jumped out of her skin when Len knocked on the wall. She rubbed her eyes, not noticing how pale he looked. “Excuse me, Tea, but-“ his voice quivered slightly, “-there’s another body.”

Dorotea snapped to attention, now fully awake. The single word burned her throat like hellfire. “Who?”

Len sighed, pure and disgusting pity in his eyes. “Garret Hayes.”

#dont wake the ancients #dorotea langford #twc #my writing

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bayisdying · 2 years ago

Text

Lucky Penny - Chapter Twelve.

A/N: we may or may not officially be out of angst territory...or maybe that's what I want you guys to think. Mwhahahaa.

Later in his life, if anyone ever asked Mickey Garcia what one of the worst things he'd ever been through, his answer was always the same.

"Watching as the love of my life faded away..."

-----

Over the next few days, the medical team on the ship had done everything they could with the supplies they had. When they arrived back at Miramar, they had rushed her to the ICU at a nearby hospital.

Lucky's core temp had risen to normal, and her vitals weren't in the trash like they had been. But, they had put her in a coma to help her heal and shoved a tube down her throat.

He hated looking at her like this, all hooked up to machines that made too much noise, the limp way she laid in the bed barely moving, and that damn tube.

He would softly speak in her ear all the words he wanted to say.

"Mí reina, I don't know what's going on in that beautiful brain of yours right now, but you have to come back to me. I can't do this without you."

He also begged and pleaded with her unmoving body.

"Come on baby, just wake up. Please. I just want to see those pretty eyes. Come on."

Sometimes he was deathly quiet, not knowing what else he could possibly say to the woman he loved.

He couldn't sleep, he couldn't eat, he couldn't drink. All he did was sit there next to her bed and wait for a miracle.

The others would come like clockwork, leaving him some snacks and trying to coax him to get away for awhile.

He would walk down to the lobby sometimes, people watch as new parents took home their newborns and he watched as older couples wheeled each other to and fro. He envied them only a little. He wished that instead of being in a coma, that Lucky was here to give birth to their child. That years and years down the road they would be the couple with graying hair still acting like lovesick teenagers

Then he'd get his coffee, and head back to his reality.

-----

"Hey man I brought you some company." Payback's voice startled him only slightly since he hadn't heard the door open.

"What do you mean?" But his answer came in the form of two figures walking in behind Rueben.

"Mámá? Delilah?" He got out of his seat and hugged both women tightly, when he let go he saw the shit eaten grin on his friends face.

"Okay Rueben, take him away. Make sure he eats and showers. Mijo you smell awful." Dulce said in the way only a mother could.

"Wait.."

"Don't fight me mijo."

"Yes mama."

He let Rueben drag him away from the tiny room he had barely left.

-----

She didn't know where she was, she could hear voices but didn't understand what they saying.

She wasn't in pain, but she thought she should be. Hadn't she crashed? Hadn't she last been in the freezing cold and snow? Why was she warm now?

Then she swore she heard as her mother softly sang her the lullaby she heard thousands of times in her childhood.

"You have to fight lucky girl."

She was fucking trying to.

-----

"The bird is in the shower." Payback texted the Squad.

He got a thumbs up back from Phoenix when he heard the shower stop. He quickly put his phone away, there was no way in hell Rueben was ruining this surprise.

Mickey came out of the bathroom, fully dressed and ready to go. "Can I go back to the hospital now? I need to be there when she wakes up."

"Actually man, the Momma Bears don't want to see you there anytime soon and I don't feel like getting mauled by them. So let's go out for a quick drink."

Mickey sighed, he couldn't even argue with his friend. Their mothers were quite terrifying alone, but together? It was better to just do what they said.

"Okay fine."

-----

Why was her mom here? She should be nowhere near here. It had only been her and Javy right? So why could she hear her mom's soothing voice talking nonsense to her?

"Your mom is here lucky girl, don't break her heart like I did."

"I don't want to leave her."

"Then wake up."

"I don't know how."

"Yes you do, you're just being stubborn."

-----

Delilah wasn't sure her daughter could have picked a better family to join. Dulce Garcia was a saint, having offered to give the other woman some alone time with her daughter while she ran and got coffee.

"My sweet baby girl." She said stroking the face she had seen at every stage of life. "I know you can hear me, so please know how much I love you."

She foolishly waited for a response that never came.

"Mickey hasn't left your side at all, he's a good man. In fact I think he's the perfect man for you. I know your Dad set a very high standard and Mickey has reached all the expectations we ever had." She continued. "I wish he could have met him baby girl, those two would have been best of friends. Dad would love the way he loves you baby girl."

When Dulce walked back in with coffee, she sat down on the other side of the bed.

"You raised an amazing daughter, she'll pull through."

-----

Her mother was talking about Mickey, where was Mickey? She needed him to be here with her. She had to tell him she was okay, that she loved him, that she was sorry.

"You know Bee, you really nailed down a hottie."

"Thanks Katie Bug, he's pretty alright."

"He's more than okay, I mean he is drool worthy girl. Those abs, those eyes, he speaks Spanish! He's totally more your type than Drew fucking Larson."

Lucky wanted to laugh but couldn't.

"So wake up and be with your man."

"Why do you guys think I know how to do that?"

"Because you do, you're a pretty smart cookie, you'll figure it out."

-----

Walking into the Hard Deck felt wrong, he should be back at the hospital.

"Uh Rueben why is it..." He was going to say empty when all their friends jumped out from under the bar and yelled "Surprise!"

"What's this?"

"Don't you tell me you don't know what day it is right now brother."

Mickey just looked at him, obviously trying to figure out what was going on.

"Dude it's your birthday."

-----

She was starting to get annoyed, her head hurt and she had been trying to wake up for god knows how long at this point.

"Just let me die then." She thought. "I'm over this."

-----

The Squad was doing everything they could to celebrate Mickey's birthday and distract him from Lucky's condition. They weren't really sure it was working but at least he wasn't holed away in her room.

"Hey Fanboy, how about a round of darts? I might even let you win." Hangman offered.

"No thanks."

"Want to do a shot?"

"No I can't get too drunk."

His somber demeanor was really hurting their souls.

They brought out a laptop and set it on the bar.

"What's this?"

"Your birthday present now shut up and watch the screen."

His eyes widened when Lucky's face filled the screen. It had to be from years ago, she looked younger.

"Happy birthday Mickey! I'm sorry I can't be there.." the video started and the memory came flooding back. This was the second birthday they'd been dating for. She was stuck on a base in Italy and he was out at sea. She had sent him this video in the mail as his present.

"I just wanted to say that I wish I was there with you but I know Rue will make sure you have the best birthday you can." Her eyes were so bright and her facial expressions were so lively.

"I love you so much Mickey Garcia, you're my best friend and the best thing that has ever happened to me. I hope we get to celebrate many more birthdays together! I can't imagine loving anyone else now that I've loved you. I can't wait to see you. Happy birthday nerd!" The Baylie on the screen blew him a kiss then waved goodbye before the screen went dark again.

-----

All she wanted to do was to feel Mickey's arms around her. Those arms always made her feel safe, secure, and loved. Those arms she called home. If she could just wake up, she knew her mom was there and Dulce too, but she couldn't feel Mickey by her anymore. Had he given up on her?

-----

He didn't even pay attention to speed limits on his way to the hospital. He had to see her, had to hold her hand, had to see her wake up.

It had been his birthday wish when they made him blow out the stupid candles on the cake Phoenix had made.

He took the stairs up to the ICU three at a time, he had no time for the slow ass elevators.

He slammed the door open and ignored the fact that both of their moms jumped.

He took her hand in his. "Cariño, please."

-----

Mickey.

She heard Mickey, felt his hand.

He was here, now it was time for her part.

"That's right lucky girl, wake up."

"Bye Bee! I'll miss you!"

And she started to fight.

"Come on Lucky, just wake up. You can do this." She thought to herself, willing herself to succeed.

And she did.

-----

He thought he was crazy when he felt her squeeze his hand, but then she started moving more.

Dulce ran to get the nurses.

"Good job cariño." Mickey said as he kissed her forehead. "I love you."

-----

A/N: SEE THIS CHAPTER ENDED A LITTLE BIT BETTER THAN THE LAST THREE. I CAN DO HAPPY ENDINGS. I JUST LOVE ANGST BITCHES.

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hannagoldworthy · 3 years ago

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Renegade 8

(All right, this is the chapter in which all the Subtle Foreshadowing stops being foreshadowing. @stagofwar knows exactly what I am talking about. That aside, some mostly off-screen non-human labor and delivery, so be warned...oh, and you guys know how much of a little shit Yodito was to the nice Frog Lady, specifically with her eggs? There's a scene in here that will remind you of that.)

“The raid on Nal Hutta is going forward, is it not?”

Maul nodded briefly as he caught the overhand strike from Feral’s lightsaber – really Barriss’s lightsaber, given to Feral to redirect any suspicion. “We leave this afternoon.”

“Can I come?”

“…If the doctor says you are well enough.”

“Brother, she says I am well enough to do this,” Feral demonstrated his point with a flurry of attacks, which Maul parried easily without counterattack. “I may not be good enough to beat you, but I could give some undisciplined Hutt brawlers a bad time.”

His twin brother considered that. “You are skilled in hand-to-hand, but how much experience do you have in deflecting blaster bolts?”

“Not a lot, but I have a great deal of experience in dodging bowcaster bolts, and those aren’t too terribly different.”

“No, but dodging is a great deal different from deflecting; different instincts at play.” Maul closed his lightsaber and bowed to signify the end of combat training for the night, and Feral hurried to respond in kind. “I’m going to have to say no for now, Brother. Dodging is good when one is alone, but there are going to be allies behind you who will get hurt if you do that.”

Maul was trying his level best to be kind, but Feral still felt bitterly disappointed. “I want to be a part of this, Brother. It’s…mortifying, watching as you and Savage accomplish great things while I’m kept at home.”

“Which is why I am only saying this is for now,” Maul replied, gingerly reaching out and putting a hand on Feral’s shoulder, emulating one of Savage’s gestures. “Kast’s squad is remaining behind to defend the camp here on Zanbar; ask them to set their blasters to stun and practice a few of those soresu blocking drills. You’re a quick study; you should be able to come with us next time.”

He tried to pull away, but Feral was too quick for him, clapping a hand over his and pressing it warmly into his shoulder – Maul didn’t quite know what to do with physical signs of affection yet, but Feral figured this might be a good substitute for the bear hug he wanted to give him. “I won’t fail you, Brother.”

Maul looked as though he may laugh, but cleared his throat, sensing the others’ eyes on them. “I never thought you…”

“KARKING BUGSLUTTING NERF-HERDING SON OF A GUNDARK BIIIIIIITCH!”

Feral jumped at least a foot in the air, swiveling to face the tent where the scream had come from. Savage, who was sitting beside Merrin on a bench where they’d been observing the twins’ practice fight, clapped his gigantic hands belatedly over the girl’s ears. “What in the Sith hells…?”

“That’s coming from the infirmary,” Maul said, hurrying past Feral and breaking into a jog; Feral followed, and Merrin threw off Savage’s arms and sprinted ahead of them with the energy of the very young. Multiple jetpacks could be heard igniting around the camp; they were not the first to investigate the disturbance. There was already a crowd of Mandalorians outside the medtent when the brothers got there, and Lady Ziidra faced them down with her arms crossed.

“This is private business. I’d suggest you go about your duties.”

Ursa Wren removed her helmet and smiled warmly. “When a Mandalorian is in childbed, there’s always a squad to guard the entrance to the medical facility, both to prevent any violent incidents and to welcome the child into the world.”

Ziidra blinked. “Who told you she was in childbed?”

“THAT RAT BASTARD IS LUCKY HE’S KRIFFING DEAD, BECAUSE I WOULD HAVE GOUGED HIS EYES OUT AND EATEN THEM IN FRONT OF HIM!”

“…She did.” Wren chuckled fondly. “When I had my daughter, Bo-Katan had to deck me across the face to prevent me from getting up and shooting my husband in the crotch; this is pretty tame, all considered.”

The Falleen noblewoman gaped. “You’re telling me that this sort of thing is normal for humanoid hatchlings?”

“…You’re telling me this isn’t normal for Falleen?”

“No! No it is not! She’s not even supposed to be passing her clutch until two standard weeks from now…”

The conversation only got more convoluted from there, even as the medtent itself seemed to have fallen silent. Feral only tore his eyes away from the spectacle when Merrin tugged on his hand. “I’m going to sneak in behind her and help. Stay here.”

“Oh, trust me,” Feral said as the Mandalorian medic stumbled outside and fell to the ground in a dead faint, “there is not a force on this planet that can get me inside that tent.”

Merrin rolled her eyes. “Men.”

***

Barriss was grateful that Hoshimi Merle was a farm girl; when informed that premature Falleen eggs would require an incubator to continue forming properly, Merle had jerry-rigged a functioning and sterile apparatus within twenty minutes. She wheeled the contraption close to the curtained cot just moments after the patient passed the first soft-shelled egg, as Barriss was holding it up to a lamp to examine it, since it was a great deal larger than was typical for the species.

“Is the hatchling all right, dearie?” Lady Farziga was certainly a character; not two minutes past the terrible imprecations she’d screamed against her late husband, and she was being a veritable mother hen toward her caretakers.

“It’s…” Barriss’s vision swam with a sudden fit of vertigo. She sank slowly back into her chair, cradling the egg in both hands to keep from dropping it, breathing deeply and trying to recover her bearings.

“Oh, honey, I’m sorry, that’s…sweetie, get into my pocket over there and get out the pheromone-nullifying salts. Yes, that’s it, now smell them yourself, and then give them to her…that’s it…”

Barriss came to within a few seconds of the aromatic herbs being set under her nose. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what…”

“It’s not your fault, dearie, it’s mine. I released the imprinting pheromones like a silly old goose; obviously, the hatchlings aren’t going to smell them when they’re still in the shells.”

Merle frowned. “You mean they normally hatch before labor? You’re ovoviviparous?”

“Yes to the first, but I don’t hold with such high-falutin’ words as the second…oh, honey, it might be better if you kept sitting down for a…”

“I’m all right,” Barriss replied distantly, studying the insides of the egg. “And I think I see the issue that set you off early, your Honor; this is a double-yolk.” She placed the egg in Farziga’s hands. “It’s not uncommon for clutches in a Falleen’s later years to have a few of these; likely your body wants them out before they get any bigger.”

“Well isn’t that just lovely,” Farziga cooed. “So there are two of them in here?”

“No, that one’s an infertile egg…also something that’s pretty common in late-life clutches.”

“A dud, huh? You’re absolutely sure?” At Barriss’s nod, Farziga held up the egg. “Do you mind?”

“Not at all.”

Without any further ado, Farziga popped the unfertilized egg into her mouth, shell and all, crunching it happily. “Gonna need my strength if there’s any more of those buggers in there…sweetie, are you okay?”

Merle had gone white as a sheet, pointing dazedly at Farziga’s mouth. “You just…you ate…um, excuse me…” She stumbled out of the curtained area and toward the door, leaving the Falleen and the Mirialan to stare at each other.

“…I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that in front of her.”

“It’s not your fault. I should have warned her…though, if she was familiar with the idea of ovoviviparity, she really should have known that would happen.” Barriss wheeled herself back around to the foot of the cot, still feeling a little dizzy.

Farziga watched her with a gimlet eye. “You know…the other one didn’t faint when she was hit by the pheromones…matter of fact I think she called me mommy.”

“I’ll have to examine her once I’m done helping you.”

“No, that’s the normal response; fainting’s the one that indicates…an underlying condition. Are you sure you’re going to be able to keep this up?”

Before Barriss could answer, a hand tapped on the pole holding up the curtains. “It’s Merrin. Can I help?”

“…Yes. Stay outside, and when I hand you an egg, put it in that container you see, the one warmed by the light…yes, exactly.” Barriss took a long inhale over the smelling salts, and got back into position. “I’m going to be able to help you to the end of this, your Honor. Now…do you feel anything shifting?”

***

In the end, the clutch consisted of seven eggs; all told, there were four duds, but two of the fertile eggs were doubles. The incubator was wheeled beside the cot, and Farziga curled up as close to it as she could and fell into a restless sleep; Barriss shooed Merrin away from the cot and closed the curtains around the tableau.

“But…” the girl pouted. “But I want to see…”

“Lady Farziga’s in a protective mood at the moment; it wouldn’t be nice to bother her. Besides, you must be hungry.” Almost as if on cue, Barriss’s own stomach grumbled loudly.

Merrin giggled. “Speak for yourself,” she whispered, “You can come with us for breakfast if you want, ‘Doctor.’ We’ve missed having you.”

“It does sound nice,” Barriss replied with a sigh, “but someone has to stay here and make sure the place isn’t inundated.” She glanced over Ziidra’s shoulder at the multiple Mandalorian helmets she could see jostling for a glimpse inside the infirmary. “You go; sneak me back a nuna leg, if you can.”

Merrin nodded, and with a flicker of green magic disappeared from the tent. Barriss nudged Ziidra and whispered in her ear; the large Falleen woman nodded curtly and cleared her throat. “All right, you blockheads, listen up! The lady and all five of her hatchlings are well. Now will you leave us al-”

“FIVE VOLLEYS FOR THE FIVE FOUNDLINGS!”

A cacophony of cheers rang out as what seemed like the entirety of Death Watch lifted their blasters into the air and fired five bolts each; someone started up a dance near the refectory, someone else chucked a couple of thermal detonators into the air as impromptu fireworks, and Barriss was pretty sure she could see money being interchanged on the sly.

Ziidra stared down at her. “It’s like living in a wild anooba pack.”

Barriss laughed. “Whatever their faults, Mandalorians love children; but come, there are plenty of beds available and you must be exhausted.”

“I’ll take a chair next to Farziga, if you don’t mind…this is supposed to be a private matter amongst us, and she’ll take comfort having me there.”

“Of course.”

Barriss let them settle into a comfortable position, Ziidra’s head lying on the mattress next to Farziga, who idly stroked the younger woman’s hair. Then, she drew the curtains, walked to the back of the infirmary, sat in the attending physician’s seat, and slowly laid her own head down on the desk…but, rest did not come for her. Her brain had too many questions.

The vertigo was pretty damning evidence for one particular diagnosis; Savage’s reaction to the pheromones had been more pronounced than hers, but his humanoid growth hormone levels were also much higher than just about everyone else’s. If it had been the first time she’d had the notion occur to her, she might have dismissed it; but, she had been sleeping a lot more than usual whenever possible, and she felt weary a lot quicker than normal. She’d suddenly started enjoying the taste of coffee when she’d never quite been able to like it before; a factoid she’d read about her species during her studies popped up in her memory, how they consumed toxins and stored them in their skin so that the gulo, which could scent prey for up to a mile out of the water, would be less inclined to eat them if they smelled like they might taste bad. It stood to reason that caffeine, normally a low-level toxin, would be something a Mirialan craved when…

Barriss sat up quickly, laying a hand over her heart and trying to breathe as slowly and deeply as she could. As soon as she was certain she could stand without having a panic attack, she retreated into the storage closet which had become her bedroom and sat down on her cot. Tentatively, she placed one hand on her abdomen, but lost her nerve and pulled it away a second later.

“Get it together, Barriss,” she whispered, counting her breaths and fighting to calm down. She couldn’t let the droids examine her; if her medical information ended up in the Kyr’tsad databanks, anyone could look at it and use it against her. She had to confirm this herself, the old-fashioned way, just as she had with many patients before. And she had to do it now, before anyone else grew suspicious as Farziga had; she needed to know her diagnosis in order to lie properly about it. So, steeling herself, Barriss pressed a hand to her abdomen again, closed her eyes, and concentrated.

For a moment, she felt nothing, and could almost believe she had been mistaken; but then, a tiny presence made itself known, glittering within her body like a kyber crystal deep in the caverns of Ilum.

Well; that had happened sooner than she’d anticipated. Perhaps she really should have anticipated it, but as far as she knew, this was a very specific sort of hybrid that had never occurred…well, not until now…

She sank back onto the cot, trying and failing to hold back tears of – Shock? Joy? Fear? All at once? – as she caressed her stomach and the little twinkling gem it now contained. From what she could tell, she was about six weeks along – obviously, she’d made a common mistake by thinking implantation cramping was her menses, but in her defense, she’d never…never had this happen to her before. Stars above, she was going to have a baby; Maul was going to be so happy…

Almost as soon as it appeared, the feeling of euphoria died. She couldn’t tell Maul. He already had to be on constant guard against his fellow conspirators; he was brilliant in such matters, but even still, if they sensed even the slightest vulnerability, they’d go for the throat. And she’d lied and told them she was simply his doctor and client to remove herself as a potential hostage to hold Maul in check; they couldn’t know she was his wife, or they would punish them for the deception. She could lie again if Death Watch figured out she was pregnant – war widows were nothing new, especially from planets like Mirial – but if Death Watch found out, Maul would find out. He would worry, and might potentially expose himself, and she couldn’t take the risk, not with his life on the line. For now, she was going to have to conceal her symptoms.

“Doctor? Are you here?”

That would be Merrin with her breakfast. Barriss sighed, sat up, and dried her face; hopefully her eyes wouldn’t be too puffy if she hadn’t cried too much. “I’ll be right out,” she called, and stood carefully, one hand still holding her stomach for as long as she could manage without attracting unwanted attention. She had already been making things up as she went along; she could work around one more variable, however unforeseen it might be.

***

The attack force filed into the transports in the afternoon, as scheduled. Feral stayed behind, as had been arranged; he was respectful, and even squeezed Maul’s shoulder affectionately in farewell, which was…nice, seeing as Maul hadn’t taken to his company as naturally as he had with Savage or Barriss. Maul watched as he also threw an easy hug around Savage’s waist; the two bopped their horns together in a brief greeting, and then Savage climbed up the gangplank to join Maul.

“Doesn’t that…hurt?” he asked his older brother quietly.

Savage shrugged. “Nah. It’s kinda like a fist bump, only with our heads instead.”

Interesting; it was like when he and Barriss pressed their foreheads together, only a little less…well, tender. Perhaps Feral would be open to Maul doing the same gesture, when they returned from Nal Hutta.

Maul remained by the open gangplank as long as he could; Feral waved, and after a moment, Merrin repeated the gesture with stilted, confused movements that reminded Maul of himself at that age. He could see the infirmary tent where he stood, and glanced in that direction even knowing Barriss would not come out to see them off. As the gangplank lifted, he could have sworn he saw the tent entrance flutter; as it closed, a gentle pressure pushed against his forehead and remained for a few moments, the air saturated with the warm emotion he felt whenever Barriss looked at him. He closed his eyes, and savored the moment; then, her presence retreated as the Warbird lifted off.

Reluctantly, he pulled himself back into the moment and continued on toward the bridge, pausing only when he heard a quiet conversation inside.

“…honestly, what di’kut thought the thermal detonators were a good idea?” Viszla’s voice murmured.

“I know, right?” Kryze snorted. “Depleting our supplies, on the eve of battle no less; I’m gonna find the guy and make him swab the outhouses for three weeks.”

“And all for a bunch of emotionless lizards who eat their own young,” Viszla tsked.

“Oh, I know. Merle is practically inconsolable; I had to give her the direct order to stay. And she says the Mirialan didn’t have any objection to that happening, and even encouraged it.” The both of them scoffed, and Kryze let out a nasty little snicker. “You sure greenies aren’t cold-blooded?”

They weren’t, but Maul was pretty sure his blood was running cold. From the start he had known better than to trust Death Watch, but even so…what had Barriss done to deserve this baseless censure? She’d been nothing but kind and professional in her new role, hadn’t even breathed a word about her past as a Jedi, and these gormless idiots were still spreading this type of slander behind her back and calling her hateful names…the nerve.

“Fierfek, Bo, you were right; this deal is getting worse and worse all the time. It’s going to be a pleasure ridding the galaxy of these criminals when we’re done with them.”

“You said it.”

Indeed he did…and Maul was in complete agreement with the sentiment of that statement, if not the targets. He took a deep breath in; he would kill them later, he would kill them later, he would kill them later…

“Have you got the coordinates set for Nal Hutta, Lord Viszla?” he inquired as evenly as he could.

Kryze glared at him – relax, I’m not out to steal your pathetic little bedmate – but, like the preening, vain little dolt that he was, Viszla heard his proper title and assumed that Maul was being obsequious. “Set and waiting, Lord Maul,” he replied in a tone that was probably meant to be magnanimous – Maul was trying too hard to hide how his stomach turned at the blond man’s haughty little smirk to analyze it thoroughly.

“Onward to victory, then,” he declared, looking away from his compatriots and to the stars. His victory, not theirs; they didn’t know it yet, but oh, they would know it soon.

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seizethecarpe · 4 years ago

Text

Shift Happens || Nicole and Dave

Timing: Current Parties: @nicsalazar @seizethecarpe Summary: Dave and Nicole narrowly escape a mauling from a “wolf” Warnings: some gore/body horror

The sun was almost set, dim light filtering through dense trees as Nicole ventured deeper into unknown territory. The night was upon her and she hadn’t been able to spot a hiking trail for almost an hour. Getting lost in the woods wasn’t a common occurrence for her. Exploring the vast forest White Crest had to offer was only possible if she strayed from the established limits set for humans. But she always found her way back to civilization. There was no need to panic yet, despite the night threatening to fall soon. She’d find her way back, she always did. Her steps halted, an exasperated breath escaping her lips. She stood and listened to what the forest had to say. The ominous whispers of the wind, the light, scurrying steps of small creatures looking for shelter from night predators, the chirping of insects. And then, at the distance, the faint splash of a waterfall. Possibly a creek, somewhere. With that knowledge she carried on, sharp eyes darting in the shadows. She was buried in the heart of the woods when she found unexpected company. Down the field and partly hidden, was a couple. Not the smartest of dating spots, she mused. Blush crept in her cheeks at the thought of interrupting and asking for directions, but before she could walk down to them, a branch cracked behind her. She held her breath at that, moving stealthily for cover. Her nostrils flared, confused at everything she was picking up. She had to be wrong. Why did it smell like the sea so deep in the woods? And there was something else, too— something she didn't have time to process, because the shiny eyes she caught across from where she stood sent her heart racing. It seemed she wasn’t the only one who had found the couple’s sanctuary.

Dave had found himself favouring the shadows the last few days. It was his impulse to sneak around, like it would be better to ambush everyone, even the old lady with dragon’s breath who worked at the convenience store. Already tolerant of the cold, Dave had begun to seek out more cold in even in the dead of winter, his shoulders bare as he walked through the forest. He could smell so much, the decaying wood under the trees, squirrels cache’s deep under the dirt, rotting flesh up in a tree from a pixie that had been hit by hail wrong. He smelled everything, but what he really wanted was to feel everything. Thick fog let him feel everything, but he still kept pressing his cheek against trees and walls because of how much he wanted to feel. He could smell folks nearby, and before he even understood why his mind began to consider how to flank the, like they were penguins for him to ambush. Dave had never even eaten a penguin, making everything weirder. Still, as he wandered closer and closer to the sound of water, he became acutely aware of others there. Dave wrinkled his nose as he looked at the couple. There was something weird about the smell of the man, but he didn’t know what. The man was possessive in his touches, nuzzling his face into her neck. Pursing his lips, Dave began to look for a way around them. He sure as hell didn’t want any part in that.

In a beat, Nicole hid her body behind a tree, looking over her shoulder. The couple still were unaware of the company. She breathed in deeply, as quiet as possible. She could go around the trees and investigate what was on the other side. Confirm it was only an animal. Then, go down the clearing and ask for directions. Great plan, she decided, carefully stepping down from the edge and venturing in the trees again. Part of her begged her to turn the other way, find another path, do the sensible thing for once. She was possibly walking straight into danger with nothing but a bottle of water and some snacks in her backpack. Her eyes fixed on a passing shadow at the distance, heart jumping to her throat. And for a brief second her control slipped. Amber eyes flashed and her vision was nitid in the dark, making out what her brain processed as a shoulder. Eyes shot to the ground, until she was sure her vision returned to normal. She kept her head down, afraid she might have scared whatever she was chasing. Her steps were cautious as she continued to approach, quietly stalking, waiting to be perfectly sure she had the upper hand. Then, she did something equally stupid and brave. “I...I can hear you” despite the statement, her tone was laced with uncertainty. Could be an animal. More often than not, it was the case. It didn't explain the shadow, or the bare shoulder she believed she had seen. She was being paranoid. The forest was known for its deceptive shapes. “I’m not— I’m not dangerous” she spoke aimlessly, knowing it was unlikely to have the effect she wanted.

There was the smell of some kind of cat or fox or something that Dave picked up as she watched the couple, his cheek still pressed against rough bark even though it served little purpose for working out more about them. He tilted his head curiously, trying to work out what he was picking up on, whether it was a local predator or just the scent of their tabby’s fur clinging to their clothes. But he realised after a moment that it wasn’t them, that it was something bigger and far closer, but it was downwind from him, he’d caught it too late, so as he turned he heard a human voice. Dave rubbed his face in frustration, straightening up because he knew it looked like he’d been trying to sneak around. Well, he had been, but that was just because-! Dave didn’t know why he was doing it. “Well, I can barely hear you, so come out where I can see you,” Dave replied eventually, looking around. “Nor am I.” Having turned his attention away from the couple, he heard the crack of twigs as one of them began to move, but not the accompanying noise of complaint.

Nicole waited, her jaw set until the other voice came. Her judgement wasn’t the best, but at least the voice did not twist her stomach with dread. Small victories. Now what? She didn’t like it when she had to share space with other hikers, but she exhaled sharply at the request, navigating through bushes and trees until she reached the source of the voice. She wasn’t wrong, it had been a shoulder she had spotted before. And while she had more pressing questions to ask, they took the backseat to judge his appearance instead. “Jesus, aren’t you fucking cold?”. She shook her head, hoping to gain back some focus, but in the time she looked away from the couple, something went down. A scream filled the air, and the stranger in front of her was forgotten. Her head whipped down to the field. The screams continued, growing desperate, pleading. The couple was gone. It was just a woman, and a massive dark figure hovering over her. “What…” An animal? It didn’t look like a bear, and she doubted she could find any other beast as big as that in the forest. Unless— the hair on the back of her neck stood. It was all too much to process in two seconds. “What the...fuck is—” her words died, eyes widening in horror.

Dave frowned at her question, before looking down at his exposed arms and calves before shrugging with a wry smile. “Cold doesn’t bother me,” he replied, his words cut off by the scream behind him. He immediately tensed, crouching behind the tree as he smelled thick blood in the air, clogging up his nose. For a brief second, he saw the man staring at the woman in guilt, flesh dangling between his human teeth. The next, he saw a terrifying beast, It’s jaw cracking as it extended and narrowed into a maw. If Dave had had any intentions to try and save the woman they quickly faded as he realised that they weren’t dealing with any monster but a werewolf. His breath caught in his throat. He knew he had his foolhardy moments, but Dave didn’t fuck with werewolves, not ever. Considering their impressive hearing and sense of smell Dave suspected that the werewolf knew where they were already but for right now it was distracted, tearing the woman apart. If he couldn’t do anything to intervene, then Dave could at least give her the dignity of not looking away. The moment her scream ended was the loudest, but the wolf did not stop tearing into her. “We’ve got to go,” he growled at Nicole. “Now.”

Nicole closed her eyes, hoping that would erase the image etched in her brain. The blood, the screams, the horrifying beast that shouldn’t be real. She was about to be sick and the stench under her nose didn’t help. She knew werewolves existed. She heard countless stories from other rangers. It was likely she had been near some at any point in the woods, evading them by sheer luck. She knew of them, but nothing had prepared her for the viciousness of their behavior. She vaguely registered the stranger speaking to her, but it took seconds for the words to finally find its meaning. She blinked her tear filled eyes, willing herself to turn away from the gory scene. The words rushed out of her mouth, all jumbled together. “Wha— what do you mean...what do you mean go, she’s—” she stepped forward, but hesitated to jump to the clearing. Why was he talking about leaving, when there was a person dying in their proximity. Looking back to her didn’t help. Anger burned in her chest. Were they supposed to let that beast tear into her like she was nothing? Like some meaningless chew toy? No, she was somebody. Someone had to be waiting for her to come home. People who loved her. She didn't deserve to be ravaged by a monster to never be found again. She froze on the spot, the adrenaline clouding her thoughts. “N-No. We— I have...there’s gotta be a way to stop that thing”.

“Ain’t nothing we can do for her,” Dave said harshly, shifting the weight on his injured leg. “Look at me, look at me. Neither of us have a rifle with us, neither of us are equipped. Animals like that, we can’t stop them.” His eyes slid past her to the wolf tearing through the woman’s thigh, her leg jolting and jerking about as the tendons clung futilely to her bones. Skin hung off the back of the looming werewolf, dripping blood down its fur. “We gotta go.” Pointedly, he began moving himself, gesturing pointedly for her to follow.

She knew —of course— that his words were true. Nicole couldn’t fool herself. The woman had stopped screaming, and the only sounds coming from the field belonged to the wolf. She was gone. Frustration brought tears to her eyes, and she stubbornly refused to follow the man’s command. He could go if he pleased. She had to wonder why she was still considering running down and trying to stop it. Stop what? she’d only end up being the second course. His words dawned on her. Animals. Beasts. Monsters. That’s what the werewolf was. What she was too, if she were to lose control. She flinched, but forced herself to watch the beast tear the woman’s leg off. Had she done that too, when the jaguar took over? Did she have bodies count too? She clenched her jaw, angry eyes fixing on the stranger. Fuck off. An unfamiliar urge to take on him burned in her chest. But logic prevailed, and she relented from the edge of the trees. If they were lucky, the wolf was still too busy with his meal to hear her shuffling between branches. “You’re too fucking calm— too fucking calm... for someone who just watched a person get fucking—” she shook her head, furiously wiping the tear rolling down her cheek.

Once she started moving, Dave didn’t fuck around, hurriedly leading them both through the thicket. Fortunately in winter there wasn’t quite so much greenery obscuring the forest floor, following a river route, but the wet, rotten leaves left much to be desired underfoot. He saw her tears and didn’t care, couldn’t care, until he couldn’t smell blood and bone and canine in the air. She still smelled like the dozen or so cats she must have in her home, though. “I ain’t calm,” he growled, turning back on her, suddenly as angry at her as he was at the fucking nerve of the kind of werewolf that delighted in tearing people apart. Dave’s lips curled into a sneer, unable to shake the image of her skin dangling in the man’s mouth before he’d twisted into his other form. “You don’t get to accuse me of anything when you were prepared to stand there and get eaten!” He breathed in deeply, catching the hint of wolf on the wind, and gestured sharply for them to keep moving.

Nicole dragged her feet behind him, letting out shaky breaths through her mouth. An attempt to control the urge to cry harder. She only grew more frustrated when the branches kept poking at her clothes and hair as they moved closer to safety. Her reaction as he turned was swift. She stepped back out of reach, hands rising. Part apology, part defense. She swallowed the angry reply, but kept her hardened gaze on him. She would never win a verbal fight. Not without bursting into tears in the process. And would that even count as a win? She had already embarrassed herself enough. And he wasn’t wrong. Guilt sat in the pit of her stomach. She had done fuck all to help the woman. Just yell that she needed help. What good did that do? She was thankful he continued to move. The scent of the beast grew stronger, and judging the by its paws against the grass, it was headed in same direction as them. “It’s coming this way” she warned softly, eyes darting around searching for a solution. Hiding from a werewolf wouldn’t work. Taking a detour maybe, if he hadn’t sniffed them yet. Climbing? She could, but was unsure on her companion. “Any good at running?” she regretted it as soon as it left her mouth, glancing at his injured leg.

They’d followed a nearby river for as they trudged on, Dave kicking the thicket underneat out of the way as he impatiently lead Nicole through. Recent snowfall and freezes meant the river was threatening to flood its banks. The rushing of the river might just be enough to hide the sound of her sniffling as they trudged along. But he wasn’t angry at her, not even as she glared at him. Considering everything, she was doing a damn fine job of keeping herself together. Dave smelled it, thick wolf fur soaked with blood. It had delighted in its first meal, and it was plunging through the forest, still uncertain on its legs with a strange gate, searching for them. “Shit, shit.” He looked at Nicole, caught her question, and nodded, he’d deal with his pain later. “When need’s must,” Dave said, but as the gangling monstrosity thundered through the trees before them, skin dangling off its back, sinew dripping blood from between its teeth, he knew they would not be fast enough. Dave looked once at Nicole, once at the river, slung his arm around her middle, and plunged backwards into the icy river, letting the water sweep them away as he held her head above the freezing current.

They had agreed to run, and though Nicole couldn’t form any words, only managing a nod to confirm they were on the same page. Until the wolf surged among the trees. Too fast to even sense it. Although delayed, the real threat of the beast made her survival instincts finally kick in. She had to run, leave the injured behind. Maybe the man would even agree, as he’d wanted to do that with the first victim. It only remained a passing thought, as one moment later an arm wrapped around her and pulled her into the river. It seemed to happen in slow motion, sinking in the water. But it still didn’t prepare her for the cold shock response. She gasped sharply, limbs kicking in a panicked state. Something was keeping her head afloat so she wouldn't take water into her lungs. Someone, she vaguely registered. She kept fighting to release herself from the hold, her brain unable to process what was happening. She began to hyperventilate when the spasm in her leg sent another wave of panic. She was going to drown. With her heart at her throat, it was all she could think of. She had to relax, then. She knew this. She was good in water. She had to let the river take them. It was that or drowning. It felt like ages until the shock passed and she stopped resisting, the current carrying them river down, out of the wolf’s grasp. When the land seemed to narrow enough, she held onto anything she could find to push herself out of the water.

Dave let her go as they reached a river bank, heaving himself out of the water with practiced ease before offering his hand for her. Despite the frigid temperatures, he didn’t even have a shiver yet, but he was worried about her. Twice fold, considering the number of bruises she’d managed to give him while they were in the river. Dave rubbed one such bruise on his jaw ruefully, looking her over with concern. “Sorry ‘bout that, didn’t see we had much of a choice. Pretty damn sure we lost it. God help us if we didn’t. You alright?”

Refusing his helpful hand, Nicole dug into wet soil and rocks to get out of the water. She scrambled to her knees first, only to lie on her back soon after it was clear she didn’t have energy left to hold herself up. She panted, shivers rippling through her body. Teeth clattering, she held her backpack close to her chest, weakly patting her arms to create any sense of warmth. “F-fu...fuck” she let out a long, shaky groan. Her eyelids were heavy. The man’s voice came, and she craned her neck searching for him. She clenched her jaw, exhaling sharply through her nose. She couldn’t stop shaking, but breathing wasn’t so painful anymore. She reckoned she was only alive by the sheer determination to fight him once they made it to land. A fire that burned through the icy current. His words, however, subdued her almost instantly. She was too tired. A warning would’ve been nice, sure. But he acted quickly and led them to safety. If she had energy to feel, she would’ve been thankful. “Don— N-no” she tilted her head to the side, that was as much as a negative as she could offer. Her body jolted again, and she rolled to her side. Why didn’t he look terrible? It was like he took a dip at the beach. Not a shiver, not even a— “Wh- happ’n…” eyes fixed on his bruise, confused. “You ‘kay?”

“You hit me,” Dave replied wrily, looking at her on the ground critically. “Jesus, girl, you’re freezing.” But he was just as soaked as she was, his clothes wouldn’t help warm her up. “C’mon, let’s get going. Not letting you catch your death like this.” She was still shivering, which was good, but they’d need to move fast. Hell, they were a ways from his van, but maybe there was somewhere else nearby that he could help her get warm. “Need to move fast, alright? Can you do that or do I gotta call someone out here?” If it was the latter, that would be an issue. He didn’t not know where they were, but like hell could he give directions over the phone easily. He bent over to help her to her feet, his hands unusually warm. “Are you hurt?”

“Oh” The slight twitch in her eyebrows was the only clear sign of surprise in Nicole’s face. She didn’t apologize. He was ready to keep going, and she let out a grunt. How was he still in good shape? Maybe he made the habit out of jumping into cold water. He looked too adjusted to the temperature even before that. “N-no. No” at the suggestion, she managed to move her head with more energy. She’d rather be dead than call for help. Just like that, she began to warm up. “I can” she swallowed, a shiver running down her spine. She sat up. Taking his hand to help herself up, she shook her head. Trying to save energy by talking as less as possible “F-fine...just—” freezing. They could walk until they hit the road, then she could call an uber. Decent plan. She took a couple tentative steps, gauging the state she was in. Okay enough. She removed her jacket, letting more water drip. In the meantime, she took in the surrounding scents and sounds to orient herself. She dragged her feet down the path she believed would lead them to the road. “How...are you fine?” she huffed, shuddering again. It wasn’t the most pressing issue, but she couldn’t let it go.

“Alright,” Dave replied, not one to argue with someone so determined to be alright. “I’m a sailor, taken plenty of tips out of the boat. Guess I’ve built a resistance to it. Not as much practice getting away from wolves.” Dave waved his hand, walking a little unsteadily, his leg stinging like a jellyfish cloud. He pulled his phone out of his pocket, forever grateful he’d invested in such a water tight cover. “Thank fuck,” he said soon as he smelled tarmac and rubber burn - a surefire indication they were near a road. “We’re gonna have to call the police or something to let them know about that feral beast attacking that couple. I know it must’a been scary to see that.”

“Guess that explains the—” Nicole stopped, as her foot almost got caught on a protruding tree root. He did smell so much like the sea. At least that part of the puzzle was solved. She forgot where she was heading with that sentence, distracted by the mention of wolves. In the commotion and the shock, she didn’t stop to think about how fast he was to figure they were in the presence of a werewolf. She shot him a quick glance, debating her next words. It was always strange to meet people who knew of the supernatural but being unable to discuss it. Because he knew didn’t he? He did. Was he one of them too? She bit her tongue, it wasn’t the time. “Sure”. What were the police going to do about a beast like that? Just serve as the next meals. But she kept her mouth shut, unsure if she kept shaking her head because she didn’t agree with him or due to the cold. “Right” she nodded, and it took all her mental strength to not blow up over his lack of reaction again. He might as well be the reason she lived to tell the tale, she reminded herself. “More used to finding bodies already dead in the woods than—” her throat tightened again. She wasn’t sure she’d get the image off her mind any time soon. Better to move on from the topic. “Can hear the road close, no?”

“Sure isn’t the kind of thing you wanna get used to,” Dave agreed quietly, almost as an apology for how calm he’d been before, unflinching at the sight of the woman’s brutal demise. “Don’t go feeling guilty now, there was nothing you could have done for her, alright?” He wasn’t sure any of that was helping, he’d never been all too good at the comforting thing, but it needed saying, He nodded at her question, hopping over a fallen log and pushing through a bushy thicket and onto the main road.

“Yeah. If you call a car, I’ll stay with you until it gets here. Wouldn’t want that animal coming back for you without back up.” In the meantime, he’d debate back and forth, over and over, like he had for much of his life, whether this was the kind of wolf it was better to call a hunter on, or whether it was better to leave well enough alone.

Looking over at Nicole shivering, Dave had no doubt he knew what her answer would be.

No. It wasn’t. But if Nicole had to choose between finding someone already dead or watching them die, the choice couldn’t be easier. “Guess it happens when you live here”. As usual, curiosity struck in the worst moment, wondering if the man had seen it happen before. It explained his lack of reaction. While his words rang true, it didn’t ease the guilt. The pressure extending from her stomach to her chest was hard to ignore. It wasn’t just her inability to take action, but she couldn’t wrap her brain around other reasons yet. Maybe she was upset because she couldn’t get the image of the beast tearing into a human off her head. Maybe she was just hungry and tired. She thought of the human within the beast, and the breathing she had managed to steady turned erratic again. It worked as a reminder that she could never lose control over herself and risk the same thing happening.

It didn’t look like either of them were particularly good at conversations, but for once Nicole preferred that way. She didn’t think she would remember much of the night besides the wolf and the icy river anyway. When the car arrived, she glanced at him one last time. If anything, to remember his face. The ‘thank you’ was left unsaid. She wondered briefly what would happen to him, but the most pressing thoughts were those of her warm bed. She did wish for him to find his way home safely, at least.

#the hunger plot arc #para #chatzy #nicole #asdfgh so excited for this

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hiddendreamer67 · 5 years ago

Text

That’s No Bird

Heyo, we had a few secret sanders who didn’t finish gifts. I stepped in for one of ‘em and here’s the gift I made for @falsehoods-phonated! Thank you for your help friend and I hope you enjoy! <3

Word count: 4,069 words

Summary: The Sanders family has traveled to a quaint abandoned park called OakCrest to camp for the weekend. While older brother Deceit helps set up the tent, Logan traverses the woods and finds... something. An undiscovered type of bird, perhaps? It has to be; after all, there’s no way Logan truly found a fairy. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Aaaaand we’ve arrived! Family fun can officially begin!”

Logan blinked, pushing off the window where his face had been resting for the past several hours. It seemed as per usual he had become distracted with his own train of thought, as it felt that only a few moments ago his parents had piled up the minivan.

In the seat next to him, Logan’s older brother gave what could be an impressive eye roll. “The term ‘fun’ is subjective. I prefer to catalog my experiences how I please, thanks.”

“Oh so I see you’re feeling pleasant as ever.” Their dad chuckled, but there was a fatherly tone to it that was clearly meant as a warning for Deceit to be on his best behavior- which, unfortunately, can also be subjective.

“Dee, darling, how about you help your father pitch the tent?” Mother, always the negotiator, eased things over as she hopped out of the car. “I’ll begin unpacking the car, Logan can you look for some kindling?”

“Naturally.” Logan left the vehicle as well, eager to stretch his legs. It was common for the Sanders family to take camping excursions in the summer, and this particular venture brought them to a new location known as OakCrest Park.

Logan hummed noncommittally to himself, venturing out into the treeline to collect twigs and sticks for a fire. He took note of his surroundings and began to compare it to other landscapes he had camped at previously. OakCrest seemed rather abandoned, foliage growing abundantly as mother nature reclaimed the space. Perhaps this was a poor sign for business but Logan rather enjoyed the overall appearance. Already he could spot several specimens of plant life that were less common in populated areas.

Wanting to explore further, Logan returned to the campsite to drop off his findings and explain to his mother that he would be back shortly. Logan wasn’t foolish; he knew the rules, sticking to one of the hiking trails going further into the forest even as at times the path would disappear for a few feet. He went further, eager to tune out the sound of his brother and father bickering.

Yes, this was quite nice. Logan attuned to the forest well, listening in to the various wildlife that called this forest home. In the distance he could hear the familiar hiss of a raccoon, the even cadence of goldfinches nesting in the trees, and…

Logan paused, stopping in his walk to see if he heard correctly. It was uncommon for Logan to hear a creature he couldn’t identify. It sounded almost bell-like in nature, as if the musical note itself was shimmering through the air.

Focusing on this sound alone, Logan followed the call, hearing its faint tones jabber up and down in an almost comedial manner. He was so entranced that Logan was scarcely aware of his feet leaving the path, or the way the other animals cries grew distant. The young lad stepped into a clearing, a twig snapping beneath his boot.

Immediately, the shimmering noise stopped.

Logan frowned, glancing around at his surroundings for a clue as to what could have produced the noise. It seemed rather ordinary, nothing out of place. No abandoned music box as Logan might have imagined.

There was the faintest shuffling up above Logan on a branch a few feet to the left. Immediately Logan’s gaze snapped up, trying to make out anything suspicious hidden within the leaves. An undiscovered species of bird, perhaps?

Logan took a slow step forwards, and the leaf pile seemed to explode. All at once they came tumbling down upon him, startling Logan enough that he almost missed the single high-note bell tone as a purple being shot out from the foliage and into the air.

It was a moment, nothing more. Logan glanced up at the creature, his jaw dropping as his eyes tried to process the sight before him. A pair of purple wings beating frantically not unlike a hummingbird, and between them… a tiny person. Surely not a person, but enough like a person that it gave Logan quite a fright as those beady eyes briefly pierced into his soul.

And then, the creature was gone.

“Wait!” Logan cried out, reaching his hand out towards the direction where the apparition had fled. Logan spit a few leaves out of his mouth, attempting to follow the flighty thing before realizing he was running after nothing.

He blinked, rubbing at his eyes. Was it possible some sort of hallucinogen floating through the air had found its way into his air ducts? There was no logical explanation for such a creature existing, and- and clearly his subconsciousness was playing tricks on him.

Logan nodded to himself, walking back towards the path. Yes, that had to be it, a trick of the light. In his fright Logan had seen an optical illusion when all it had been was a… was a…

Well what was it, anyhow? The point still stood that Logan knew of no creature capable of making such an outlandish noise. It sounded as though it came straight from a realm of fantasy and that must be the only explanation why Logan’s mind chose to input a fairy of all things when it must have been a mutation of some form of aerial creature. Perhaps it was a hummingbird with a vocal defection.

“Logan?” Once again Logan was pulled out of his thoughts by his mother’s voice. “Are you alright? You were gone an awfully long time, we had begun to worry.”

“It would have been so tragic had you wandered off into the woods and gotten yourself mauled by a bear.” Unsurprisingly, Deceit’s words did not sound sympathetic.

“I apologize.” Logan said, glancing at the fading beams of sunlight on the horizon. “I lost track of time.”

“What?” Deceit gasped, placing a hand to his chest. “We never would have guessed. Truly inspiring insight.” Deceit began to clap loudly, standing up as if to applaud his brother. “Praise be to the favorite spawn!”

“Alright, that’s enough.” Mother gave him a brief glare as she prepared a meal for Logan, the others having already eaten.

“What is it with you and favorites?” Father scoffed, glancing up from where he was baiting a fishing line. “Your mother and I love you both equally.”

“Ah, yes.” Deceit sat back down. “And that would be why when you first took me camping you forgot me in the river.”

“I do believe they were justified in that decision.” Logan drawled, glancing up at down his brother’s form.

“Completely unrelated, I do believe Logan and I will be visiting the river tomorrow.” Deceit glared at him.

Their mother was quick to step between them, eager to prevent any rough-housing near the open flames. “Logan, eat. Deceit, stop antagonizing your brother.”

“I am hardly the only antagonist here.” Deceit huffed. “In the American School System I do believe we would both be equally guilty of punishment.”

“Well, you’ve told us multiple times how that system is flawed, so we’re not using it out here.” His mother teased. “Instead we’ll go by good old fashioned rules, like ‘mom is right’.”

“I do believe that was created with some personal bias.” Logan observed.

“I said eat.”

“Since when did we raise such smart-alecs?” Father murmured.

Thankfully, the rest of the meal passed without further distraction. Logan was quick to scarf down his portions, both boys helping their mother clean up with only minimal complaining before getting into bed.

“You’re taking up two thirds of the tent.” Logan nudged into Deceit’s side, attempting to get his brother to scoot over.

“I earned two-thirds of this tent, I set it up.” Deceit put an arm over his eyes, ready to drift off. “Soon it will be three-thirds. Survival of the fittest. You can go sleep with whatever raccoon kept you so occupied you forgot you’re supposed to be amongst humans again.”

Logan huffed, rolling over to try and get more comfortable. “...it wasn’t a raccoon.”

“Then what was it?” Deceit groaned, clearly uninterested.

Logan paused, quiet for a very long time. “I don’t know.”

Well, that got his brother’s attention. Deceit sat up, raising a suspicious eyebrow that was only visible via the light of their lantern. “You don’t know? There’s a beast alive unrecognizable to the walking encyclopedia?”

“It wasn’t a beast.” Logan frowned at the wall of the tent. He shifted again. “It was- a bird.”

“A bird.” Deceit flopped back onto the ground, jostling Logan. “You got all wound up over a flying pigeon?”

“Why would you refer to it as a flying pigeon?” Logan snapped, getting defensive. “Pigeons already fly.”

“I bet it wasn’t even a bird.” Deceit continued to mock, not knowing he had just stated Logan’s own fear. “You probably just spooked a flying squirrel. Or a strange beetle. Maybe it didn’t fly at all, it just jumped away so fast your infinitesimal brain couldn’t process it-”

“Oh quit your chattering.” Logan growled. “If you’ll never let me live that mistake down at least do me the decency of letting me sleep.”

But despite his words, Logan seemed incapable of falling asleep even as the lantern light was turned off and the brothers were plunged into darkness. His mind was left racing, trying to comprehend what he might have seen. No matter how logical an explanation Logan was incapable of convincing himself he had not seen a … tiny winged person.

Logan cringed once again at his own unfounded thought. It had not behaved in a typical pattern for a bird- were there other winged creatures that grew violet feathers in this area? Or perhaps it wasn’t feathers at all, but some sort of insect like Deceit had teasingly suggested. Logan knew that, though unlikely one would be so large, insects were known for a variety of strange genetic mutations. Beetles were estimated to take up 25% of all animals on the planet alone; so, statistically, it was entirely possible it had been some strange undiscovered beetle variety. With feather-like appendages and a bipedal humanoid structure.

While debating internally what characteristics define a beetle, Logan spotted a faint glow in the distance. He hypothesized this was just the lantern light of his father getting up in the night, until the light began to approach. It was then that Logan realized it was floating in a chaotic flight pattern, emanating a violet light.

Immediately Logan shot up, pressing his glasses to his face as he shoved his boots haphazardly on. There was no reason to assume his specimen was capable of bio-luminescent energy, but even if this was a new creature Logan’s curiosity had been piqued.

Logan grabbed his phone in case he needed a light source, but for now he unzipped the tent and allowed his eyes to adjust to the darkness. The violet blur was zipping around so fast Logan couldn’t get a good look. Logan jumped, startled as there was a clattering sound, one of the cans of bug spray knocked from the table.

It seemed this flying blur was either looking for something or just wanted to destroy as much as possible. Both motives were unclear, and until Logan could tell if it was dangerous, he armed himself with the spray and crouched down, quickly moving closer to the scene of the crime.

Logan uncapped the spray, the noise startling the light as it gave another high-pitched note, in the same tones as the mysterious forest noise. A rapid set of jabbering followed as the being flew closer, and he got the distinct impression that the tiny creature was telling him off. Squinting in the blinding light, Logan aimed solely by instinct as he raised the can and pushed the nozzle.

The jabbering increased, but then grew less and less frantic as the movements slowed down, the light dimming. Now Logan could make out the figure drifting in the evening breeze. This time there was no disputing it- there was indeed a tiny, confused humanoid creature floating in the night, its shadowy figure outlined in a faint purple glow. It shook its head, stumbling in its path as it tried to retreat away from Logan.

“Oh no you don’t.” Logan turned on his phone light, hurriedly trying to find a container suitable for catching the creature. It couldn’t get away, not now when he had such a great shot. With every second Logan was feeling his chance slipping away, the violet light losing altitude as it tried to dart back towards the forest. Giving up hope of finding anything in the dark, Logan elected to simply sprint after the creature himself.

“Logan?”

Logan winced, realizing the ruckus had woken some of his family members. He got about three more steps before his mother was awake enough to pull out her patented mom voice.

“LOGAN JAMES SANDERS WHERE DO YOU THINK YOU’RE GOING!”

“I- I don’t have time to explain-” Logan panted, worriedly glancing between his mother and the treeline as his father and brother poked their heads out.

“You sure as hell do, young man.” His father was just as livid, looking like an angry papa bear awoken early from hibernation. “What sort of asinine compulsion has given you the right to trash the campsite in the middle of the night?”

“This was hardly my doing, I swear-”

“Were you about to run off into the woods?” His mother gasped, rushing over to inspect his face. “Logan, what on earth were you thinking? Do you have any idea how dangerous that would have been?”

“Oh of course he did.” Father growled, stomping forwards. “He’s certainly got a big head on his shoulders, he just doesn’t know how to use it!”

Logan bit his lip, wondering how he could possibly explain his irrational and admittedly foolish behavior without his parents believing he had gone insane. He opened his mouth not unlike a fish, trying to find words that would portray his sanity without being utter falsehoods.

It seemed, for once in his life, Deceit decided to act as a proper older brother should. He burst out in an evil chuckle, drawing attention towards himself and away from Logan.

“Wow.” Deceit pretended to wipe away a tear, the lantern illuminating the bottom of his chin in an ominous manner. “Didn’t think I could still get lil’ Logie with a dare of all things. What happened to bravery is the fool’s term for idiocy?”

“You dared him to do this?” If anything, their mother’s gaze turned fatally livid.

Their father stormed up to Deceit, sticking his finger in his son’s face. “You have some nerve, taking advantage of your brother like that! What sort of sick stunt are you pulling, throwing your brother into danger like that-”

“I hardly threw him into danger.” Deceit cut him off with a glare. “He’s the one who acted on it!”

“Yes, indeed.” Mother turned back to Logan, nullifying any chance of Logan sneaking off into the night. “What the devil were you thinking, going along with your brother’s ridiculous notions? I expect at least one of you to possess some common sense.”

“I suppose you just have to lower your expectations.” Deceit shrugged, clearly possessing a death wish. “It sounds to me that the issue lies more with your tendency towards assumptions than your children’s moral compasses leaning further to the side than you would prefer.”

If there had been any chance of a peaceful night in the tents, Deceit’s last comment had hopelessly shattered it. Both boys were dragged by their ears to go sit on a log near the burnt out embers, their parents taking turns scolding them ‘till their voices were hoarse from use. It was clear that the stress of the late hours was weighing heavily on the family’s mood. Logan properly ducked his head in shame, hoping this would be over with quickly.

Deceit raised an eyebrow once they both seemed to be panting for breath. “Are we done here?” He cocked his head, not waiting for an answer when he heard a rumble of thunder in the distance. “Ah, sounds like we are. I suppose our punishment is leaving our camping trip early?”

Their father’s glare narrowed. “Has that been your game all along? You just want to get home to that ratty boyfriend of yours?”

Deceit shrugged. “I have a feeling you don’t care for my answer.”

“We talked about this.” Their mother sounded almost pleading. “It’s supposed to be a family fun weekend!”

“Yes, family fun.” Deceit mocked. “What a joyous time we’re sure to have in the impending rain.”

No! Logan felt his stress increasing, wondering how on earth he could possibly leave when there was still a discovery waiting somewhere in the woods.

“No.” Their father paced back and forth, in full lecture dad mode. “No, here’s what we’re going to do. We’re going to head back into those tents and get some rest. We’re going to wake up, have a nice breakfast, and spend a weekend roughing it as a family as intended.”

Mother nodded rapidly. “Yes, yes, we could all do with a bit of rest. I think a recharge will do us well.”

“...Fine.” Deceit stood up, heading back to their tent. “Can’t wait to be drenched.”

“Goodnight to you as well.” Father called out.

Logan stood next, knowing that by now the fairy- the creature was likely long gone. It wouldn’t be worth risking further anger tonight. “I apologize for my behavior.”

His mother gave him a soft nod. “Go to bed, Logan.”

Without another word Logan entered the tent shared with his brother, collapsing into his part as he removed his boots. He sighed, staring up at the darkened tent ceiling and trying to process all that occurred.

“...why did you lie?” Logan asked finally, still laying on his back with his eyes open. “Why did you tell them you dared me to misbehave?”

“You were chasing after your bird, weren’t you?” Deceit answered with his own question.

“...Yes?” Logan was only more confused.

“I figured as much.” Deceit’s shadow shifted in the darkness. “You’re lucky I bought you more time, they were ready to send us packing. It better be some bird.”

“I suspect it’s not a bird at all.” Logan murmured. “But why are you helping me?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” Deceit’s voice was muffled by him putting his face into his pillow.

“Well, yes, that is why I inquired-”

“Look.” Deceit sat up, likely glaring at him. “Here’s what’s gonna happen. Tomorrow morning, you’re gonna go try and catch that thing, and you owe me about a dozen favors. Now pipe down before I knock your teeth out, some of us still want to sleep before we get rained out.”

Deceit had always been a bit cryptic in his responses, and wanting to survive Logan decided to keep his mouth shut. Instead he tried to get some sleep of his own, tossing and turning until Deceit kicked him into the side of the tent. It was a fruitless endeavor, especially when the rain began pouring down creating a cacophony of noise as it pounded against the roof of the tent.

Finally, after what felt like a miniature eternity, it began to grow lighter outside. Logan took this as a good enough sign to get up, lacing his boots tightly and throwing on a dark green plastic poncho. This time he packed a waterproof flashlight as his light source, just in case, and exited the tent. Immediately his glasses got splattered with raindrops, making vision a bit difficult as he scoured the campsite. It was still a bit of a mess, the fairy having thrown several items around in its temper tantrum. Thankfully Logan was able to find the jar he required easily enough.

One last cautious glance back, and then Logan was trekking out into the forest. He wasn’t exactly certain what to look for so he opted to head back towards the clearing, listening closely for another taste of that twinkling voice.

He began to fantasize about what would happen if he did manage to catch a fairy. What would this mean for the biological community? How does one even go about presenting such a finding? He’d have to find a way to sustain it- what do fairies need to survive? What do they eat? Hopefully nothing too gnarly. Now Logan was wishing he had paid more attention whenever Roman yammered on about fairy tales.

Logan paused, trying to figure out if he had heard those bell tones or merely imagined them. It was a quiet noise, with a trembling not unlike a vibrato. He tried to follow it, getting turned around more than once as the rain drowned out the fragile voice. Eventually Logan seemed to have narrowed it down to the base of an old oak tree, where a small bush was trembling more than was strictly necessary in this wind.

Logan crouched down, parting the branches. Sure enough, sat at the base of the tree was the purple fairy, shivering frantically. Without wasting a moment Logan slammed his jar down, watching as the creature flinched when captured.

“Incredible.” Logan murmured, getting his first real observations as he ducked down further. The fairy had stumbled to its feet, pounding on the glass as if it could make a difference. Logan could hear the sporadic bells going off, its wings drooping significantly. It appeared half-drowned as well, and Logan hypothesized that the rain had grounded the creature.

As Logan grew used to the being’s appearance, he took notice of its actions. The fairy was stumbling about, clasping at its hair not unlike a human who was experiencing an extreme existential crisis. Logan frowned, trying to make sense of what exactly was happening. Why had the fairy attacked camp? Is that why so few humans visited this park nowadays? But now the creature just looked terribly frightened. It must be a defense mechanism, the creature clearly territorial.

Had it been caught by a human before? Was it dangerous? It was possible that the fairy was just trying to get Logan to lower his guard, releasing him to either escape or worse yet attack Logan. Surely such a small creature would possess some form of self-defense, perhaps a poisonous bite or infectious claws.

Looming even closer, Logan was able to make out the glazed look of those panicked eyes. It was possible the spray from last night had weakened the creature, allowing it to only travel this far into the woods before being caught by the storm. Perhaps a few effects were still lingering. Could it be sick? Rabid? Did it possess any sentience? It was hard to tell if the bell-voice was as complex as human languages, or just another songbird tune.

But no matter the complexity of its thoughts, it was clear the fairy was… suffering. It was scared in a new situation, trapped by both the elements and Logan himself, and it was incapacitated. What was the ethical route here? Would it hurt the fairy further to take him back to camp? As he delayed his decision, the fairy sunk further and further to the ground, its little chest heaving as it wrapped its arms around itself and tried feebly to calm and warm itself.

“You’re freezing.” Logan realized, wondering if it could even understand him. The fairy’s head snapped back, once again tracking Logan’s every move. “I imagine your habitat is further into the forest, and without proper shelter… well, I imagine a great many predators would take advantage of you when grounded.”

The fairy shuddered, though it was unclear if this was in response to Logan’s statement or another bout of cold.

Logan nodded to himself, agreeing with his own reasoning. It would be cruel to leave this creature so defenseless when he had been a major component in disarming it in the first place. Logan would take it back to camp, explaining himself to his family. Then he would help the fairy recover, warming it up and calming it down.

His mind made up, Logan carefully flipped over the jar and slid the lid in place. The fairy let out another round of frantic jingling as it was tumbled about inside.

“It’s alright.” Logan murmured, hoping his low tones would come off as less threatening as he stood up. “I’ve got you now.”

#g/t #infinitesimal!sides #secret sanders 2019 #even though its a new year now lol #fairy!virgil #human!logan #human!deceit #fairy au #wait holy frick is this in the same universe as the injured fairy?#possibly #fairies #fairy

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that-shamrock-vibe · 5 years ago

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Disney+ What To Watch: My Top 10 Favourite Disney Classics

#3. The Jungle Book

I enjoy this movie without even needing acknowledgement of the original story of which it is based on. I know there have been variations on the story, in fact I remember watching an animé version of the story as a child, but for me Disney simply captures the essence and the magic that I need from the story.

I used the word “magic” despite this being one of Disney’s rarities to not include any physical use of magic, but when you have talking animals there is an element of magic to it. Not forgetting that just seeing that magnificent waterfall, the jungle at night and how this young boy interacts with this supposed “wild animals” is very magical.

Having said that, this movie is very Disney. I loved recently seeing the How It Should Have Ended interpretation of The Jungle Book and simply had the story being Bagheera finding Mowgli and leaving him with the wolves who then proceed to maul and devour the infant...because that may or may not be what would actually happen in reality. I’m an advocate for wolves and choose to see their best sides, but you never know in the wild.

That’s not to say that Disney shies away from “the law of the jungle” in this movie as the main focus of course is protecting Mowgli from the fearsome Shere Khan, but along the way Mowgli interacts with various other animals who, aside from Kaa the python, you may not consider to be threatening predators but both Hathi and King Louie are somewhat opposed to the young human and Louie, especially in other spin-off medias, seeks to either harm or possibly kill him.

But then you have a panther and a bear who you could also mistake for predators, and they’re the ones trying to ensure the human lives...despite said human doing absolutely nothing to make either of them not want to kill him at times.

It is interesting that Baloo and Mowgli have similar mindsets considering they are both of different species and age. Mowgli being ten years old and raised by wolves with the aide of a panther doesn’t exactly show signs of knowing right from wrong despite Pinocchio, a wooden puppet, being taught these things by a cricket.

Baloo meanwhile is the ultimate laissez-faire party animal who sherks all responsibility and just wants to have fun in life. So the fact that these two find each other and form that instant surrogate father-son relationship isn’t surprising...but because Mowgli is not savvy with the way the wider world works being simply ten years old, he expects everything to go his way and so wanting to stay in the jungle clings to the idea that anyone with a way to keep him there is the right way to go.

But while Baloo’s intentions are harmless just slightly self-centred, the likes of both Kaa and King Louie wanting to either eat him or use him for knowledge could be seen as an equivalent to stranger danger. Something which this movie does relatively well.

Again, Mowgli doesn’t show any experience at knowing the jungle outside of the wolf pack. So when he and Bagheera leave the pack for the Man Village, Bagheera being that only reliable source for him becomes very shaky when trying to convince a child he has to leave everything he knows and is comfortable with for a place that for all he knows would take him away from everything.

Then you have a variety of strangers, Kaa, Baloo, King Louie and even the Vultures, all interacting with him just as if he was on his own in the streets rather than a jungle. While it is true some strangers mean no harm such as Baloo and the Vultures, others seek to either exploit or harm vulnerable young people they meet as Kaa and Louie do.

It’s both a great life lesson and cautionary tale woven in to a fun and somewhat wholesome story that just effectively exists to make you feel good.

My favourite character is Bagheera, he is a lot like me as he wants nothing more than to just laze around and watch the world go by, but he is pulled into serious situations and has to be the voice of reason despite not being listened to.

Baloo is someone people keep comparing me to and I don’t know if it’s a size thing or the fact people don’t think I take life seriously enough, but there are worse characters to be compared to and in an ideal world I would probably be Baloo but as things are I need to be more Bagheera.

Mowgli does get more annoying as the movie goes on because while it becomes increasingly apparent to anyone with a brain, including Baloo, that he is safest in the Man Village, he becomes more stubborn as to wanting to stay in the jungle so much so that not only does he cross paths with Kaa twice and nearly get eaten twice, but he also ultimately comes face to face with the very predator who he is constantly being warned about.

Shere Khan was the stuff of nightmares for me as a child because of how he is built up in the movie and the fact that, aside from the talking aspects, he is very much a real world threat that if ever you were to cross paths with a tiger you may be killed.

But after I got over those fears, he became one of my favourite Disney villains because not only is he so menacing and sophisticated, but he’s also not one to faff around and simply gets straight down to it. As soon as he hears that not only is there a Man Cub in the jungle but that he is alone, he sets his sights on finding him. Once he finds him he does get cocky believing that he has already won before winning but he does it so well.

It’s kind of obvious why The Jungle Book is one of Simon Cowell’s favourite movies because the similarities between the two characters are very very obvious if you know both characters well.

Kaa being Winnie the Pooh is a gag that is practically exhausted by now but when you first make the link it is a slight jaw-dropping moment. He and King Louie are both great menacing villains while also being comedic foils.

As for the vultures, if they actually were voiced by the Beatles as originally intended then it would have been epic but the fact their design is loosely based on the famous band but they’re different enough being somewhat a barbershop quartet as opposed to a rock band is just a great addition.

Musically, I love the music, I love the overture, I love the songs. “The Bare Necessities” and “Trust in Me” are definitely my favourites with “Colonel Hathi’s March” and “I Wan’na Be Like You” coming close as all of them are very catchy and enjoyable songs.

The song sung by “the girl” at the end, who I’m going to call Shanti because in the sequel that is her name, is nice, it’s sweet, but the fact it’s soon forgotten when a reprise of “Bare Necessities” is heard speaks volumes to it.

Overall this is just a great, feel-good party of a movie. I’ve followed this particular franchise a lot over the years not only with Jungle Cubs but also TaleSpin, both were great additions to the franchise without specifically tying in to the movie.

So what do you guys think? Post your comments and check out more Disney+ What to Watch Top 10s as well as more Top 10 Lists and other posts.

#the jungle book #jungle book #disney+#disney #disney plus #disney+ what to watch #top 10 disney classics #disney+ what to watch top 10s

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asterythm · 5 years ago

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A is for Amour || One Small Voice in the Universe (9)

Pairings: Slow burn Logicality, eventual Prinxiety Word Count: 4.7k Chapter Summary: Some days were worse than others, but this had to have been one of Virgil's worst ones yet. Thank goodness for Patton, right? Chapter Warnings: food mentions

<< First Chapter || < Previous Chapter || Read this chapter on AO3

***

With a heavy exhale, Virgil Xia collapsed backwards into his cushy desk chair, allowing himself to deflate at last. A quiet groan escaped as he massaged closed eyes, wishing the tension building in his shoulders could melt away just as easily.

Today was not shaping up to be a good day.

From the moment he’d opened his eyes that morning, he knew from the silence in his dorm room that something was wrong: he’d slept in past his alarm. A lot. Though he hadn’t even stopped to entertain the notion of breakfast before leaving, Virgil ended up almost forty-five minutes late to his morning class (which of course just had to be all the way on the other side of campus) -- which would have been a bad enough start to the day on its own, but things only had only gone downhill from there.

After finally showing up to said morning class, huffing and puffing all the way, Virgil realized that in his rush he’d forgotten to pack his textbooks and pencil case into his bag. With no options left, he was forced to ask the moody-looking girl sitting next to him if he could borrow a pencil and share textbooks for the day. The girl let him have the supplies without any argument, but after burning under the heat of her glare for the rest of class, Virgil almost wished he hadn’t asked.

Virgil figured that things should start turning around for him after lunch, though. After all, if there was one thing he could rely on to never let him down, it was food.

Right?

For lunch, Virgil bought a sandwich as usual from the sketchy-but-cheap on-campus kitchen that he and many other JMSC students got most, if not all, of their meals from. He barely got a single bite in before his teeth hit something hard. Wanting to know what he’d nearly chipped his tooth on, Virgil peeled apart the sandwich to see a long fake nail that definitely didn’t belong to him.

“Agh!” Virgil dropped the sandwich with a yelp. “Ew, ew, ew, ew, ew…” He was hungry, but not that hungry.

Still, he had already paid for the sandwich, and the last thing he wanted was to have to buy another — he was already living on a very fragile budget as it was. He briefly debated taking the sandwich up to the kitchen and asking for another one, or at least for his money back, but the thought of marching right into a possible confrontation made his stomach turn even more than the sandwich had.

Instead, Virgil dug around until he found some dusty candy in the bottom of his bag, probably left over from one of those overcrowded college fair things that he had been unfortunate enough to get caught up in during his first month back at school. He sighed. Better than nothing. Those tacky hard candies ended up the closest thing resembling lunch that Virgil ate that day.

Things went from “bad” to “just freakin’ awful” during his afternoon commute to work. All the running around without having had anything to eat but a handful of candy all day had taken its toll; Virgil was exhausted. So much so that, when he boarded the bus at last, he immediately sat down on the first and only empty seat he saw… without stopping to wonder why, in a bus as packed as the one he was currently on, there were even any empty seats in the first place.

He recognized his mistake the moment the seat of his pants touched the chair: it was soaking wet. Virgil jumped up immediately, praying that the dirty liquid he had just sat in was only melted snow and nothing worse than that.

When Virgil finally arrived at the library, his pants had at least dried, but his dignity wasn’t quite so easily fixed. And then came the last straw — as soon as he got to the kids’ section, which he always spent the beginning of his shift tidying up, he was greeted with the sight of many, many picture books that had been ripped off of the shelves and scattered carelessly all over the floor. A few loose pages pulled free from book bindings had been crumpled up and thrown into the mix as well. It looked like a miniature tornado had raged its way through the area, and worst of all, there was nary a parent nor a child in sight to take responsibility.

Now Virgil, at last finished cleaning up the section and painstakingly taping pages back into books where they belonged, wanted nothing more than to sink straight through his cushy desk chair and into a thousand-year-long sleep. Heck, a light nap would do.

No way was he going to add “get fired” to the ever-growing series of unfortunate events that kept coming at him, though, so instead he settled for the knowledge that he ought to be catching a bit of a break now. Around this time of day, Virgil usually didn’t have much to do; most patrons had either already left for lunch or would just now be coming in — thank goodness. Cheering up a little at the thought, Virgil began rummaging through his black tote bag to find his knitting needles, ready to unwind both his yarn and his thoughts at last.

Ten seconds later, he realized that he’d forgotten his needles at home.

Virgil’s head dropped to his desk perhaps just a little too hard. Why does the entire universe hate me?

To be fair, this was probably for the better anyway. With all of the rotten luck he’d been having today, he would probably have ended up dropping a full row of stitches, or stabbing himself through the finger with one of the thin metal needles, or something equally as ridiculous and outlandish and exactly the kind of thing that he might do. At least this way he wouldn’t be able to hurt himself with his own stupidity any further, right?

Dropping his tote back down onto the ground, Virgil sighed as he resigned himself to three or four hours of boredom. The tips of his fingers tapped out an aimless rhythm against the smoothly polished surface of the library desk he sat behind. There wasn’t much else to do, besides listen to his stomach’s occasional rumbling complaints as he tried not to fall asleep where he was (whether from hunger or boredom, he wasn’t quite sure).

Maybe the library computers have Minesweeper or something installed on them. Probably not — Virgil was half-convinced the monitor on his desk could be dated back to the prehistoric era — but it couldn’t hurt to check, right?

***

“No! Argh!” Virgil whisper-yelled, collapsing back in his chair with finality. Pixelated letters blinked on the screen in front of him, their red colour so needlessly bright it was almost insulting: Game Over — Try again? In response, Virgil moved his mouse to click the x in the upper-right corner of the window where he’d just had Minesweeper open for the past hour or so. “Okay — I’m done. Get out! Don’t you make me play your stupid game, or see your stupid face, ever again ,” the frustrated young man threatened, jabbing an accusatory finger at his dinosaur computer.

Virgil was very aware that what he was saying didn’t make an ounce of sense, since it was hardly like he had anything else to do until someone came to ask a question or check a book out… but at this point, he was so beyond caring about making sense anymore. Besides, it wasn’t like there was anyone around to hear him —

“Um, Virgil?”

“Ah!” exclaimed Virgil, starting in his seat. He looked away from the computer to see Patton Foley standing in front of him, eyes widened in concern. “Ah,” he said again, much quieter this time. Virgil must have gotten so engrossed in his game that he hadn’t heard the tell-tale whoosh of the doors opening and closing when Patton entered. “Patton. I, uh, didn’t see you there. How’re you doing?” he greeted the boy, mentally crossing his fingers in hopes that by some miracle, Patton hadn’t heard him talking to his own computer just now.

No such luck. “Virgil, what’s wrong?” Patton wanted to know, ignoring Virgil’s question in favour of asking one of his own. “You seem really upset. Are you feeling okay?”

Virgil nodded, began to give an awkward thumbs-up over the desk, thought better of it, and brought his hand back down. “Oh, yeah, totally okay. The okay-est. I was just... getting heated over something dumb, is all.” Desperate to end the conversation as soon as possible, he made a show of squinting at his wristwatch, accompanied by an exaggerated gasp as he flapped a hand at Patton to shoo the boy into the next room. “Oh no, you’re going to be late to your session! You’d better hurry, Pat!”

“Wait, what? I could have sworn that I was, like, twenty minutes early, last time I checked.” Patton glanced up at the analog clock mounted on the wall behind him and studied it for quite some time before giving up and admitting, “I can’t read that thing. Still,” he continued, putting his hands on his hips with an unimpressed stare, “I don’t believe you.”

“Wh — about the time?”

“No. Well, I guess that too. I mean, you’re not even wearing a watch —” Patton gestured at Virgil’s wrist, which Virgil, cheeks aflame, only now recognized was indeed bare — “but that’s not what I meant and you know it. You look like, um… just like a raging...” His hands gestured vaguely. “How do I put this in a way that doesn’t make me sound mean?”

“Gee, thanks,” mumbled Virgil. “That bad?”

“Sorry. But, uh, yeah. It just seems like you’ve had a rough day, you know? Like, obviously you’re tired ’cause of how you’re all slumped over, and frustrated ‘cause you keep trying to keep your fists from clenching, and —”

A loud, unhappy growl suddenly interrupted Patton’s list of concerns. Either a) someone was about to be mauled by a bear, or b) after having barely eaten a thing all day, Virgil’s stomach had decided to bite back.

Both Virgil and Patton knew perfectly well which of those two options was the correct one.

Without another word, Patton reached into his backpack and pulled out a sealed zip-lock bag filled with assorted nuts — cashews, almonds, peanuts, and more, plus what looked to be a few semi-sweet chocolate chips and raisins thrown into the mix. After looking Virgil sternly in the eye, he tossed the bag onto Virgil’s desk. “It’s not much, but it’s better than nothing,” said the boy as he did so.

A moment passed while Virgil processed, staring blankly at the trail mix. Okay, thanks for showing me your food, I guess, he almost said — then all of a sudden the tired man was fully awake as he realized that Patton wasn’t showing, but rather giving.

“Wait — hang on, no no no no no! Patton, I can’t take your stuff,” protested Virgil. He grabbed the bag of trail mix and thrust it back in the general direction of where Patton had been, but when he looked up again he saw that Patton was not standing where he had been at all. The oddly paternal boy had apparently anticipated that Virgil would argue and was already walking towards the next room.

Without missing a beat, Patton argued, “Why not? You obviously need it way more than I do.” He tilted his head with a curious stare. “You’re not allergic to nuts or anything like that, right?”

“Well, no, but —”

“But nothing. Come on, Virgil, eat. You’ll feel way better after, I promise.” Satisfied, Patton turned to walk away.

“Patton!” Virgil stood up, still holding out the plastic zip-lock bag. “Come back, Patton!”

“Uh-oh, no can do,” chirped Patton with a shrug, widening his eyes. “I’m going to be late to my tutoring session, remember? You told me so yourself.” His expression of mock-innocence melted into a mischievous grin. “Talk to you later, Virgil!”

Pretending not to hear Virgil’s spluttered protests, Patton rounded the bend and disappeared from sight. It quickly grew apparent that he wouldn’t be coming back, at which point the librarian was left with no other option but to sit back down, assorted nuts in hand.

Still, Virgil wasn’t admitting defeat yet. It didn’t matter how much the boy insisted; as far as he was concerned, the contents of this little bag still belonged wholly to Patton, and to Patton they would return at the end of the boy’s tutoring session. He wasn’t that hungry, anyway.

Rather unceremoniously, Virgil dropped the plastic bag on his desk next to the computer monitor, then tried his best to turn his focus elsewhere. It wasn’t long before he found himself eyeing the Minesweeper shortcut —

Nope, never again, Virgil reminded himself.

Perhaps he would just… go re-shelve some books. Yes, that was a good idea. There were self-checkout terminals for a reason, anyway; Virgil didn’t always have to be sitting behind his desk. And when he’d finished shelving, he could go check to ensure all the books were aligned properly, fix up some of the displays, clean out his desk drawers…

Hastily, Virgil set up a little card on his desk to read Back Soon. Once that was done, he got to his feet, for once in his life glad for the busywork. At least it’d be a nice distraction from, well, everything else.

All too soon, though, the chores were finished and Virgil was sent firmly back to square one. Not to mention, after his trip through the library’s several floors, Virgil was even more hungry than before, and suddenly the meager portion of trail mix seemed a much more tempting treat. He could almost hear the semisweet chocolate chips calling his name.

Perhaps he’d been a little hasty in rejecting this delicious donation that Patton had so freely insisted on giving him. Besides, wasn’t it rude to turn down a gift?

Maybe, Virgil pondered, I could just have an almond or two…

***

True to his word, Virgil had only had two almonds. At first.

Then he’d had two more.

Then some cashews, a couple of pecans, a handful of raisins, some chocolate chips…

Before Virgil knew it, the plastic bag was empty — but his stomach was full, or at least full- er . And though he did feel a little guilty for having finished the entire bag, there was definitely a notable decrease in crankiness as well. Patton hadn’t been kidding, it seemed.

The clock now read 6:11; Virgil was sitting up straight, comparatively attentive, watching carefully to see when (if?) Patton would be coming back to retrieve the bag he had left behind. His and Logan’s session should have ended just over ten minutes ago, assuming that Logan was still as precise with his schedules as Virgil had always known him to be, so Virgil expected to be seeing the cheerful boy any moment now…

Aha — there he is. The first thing Virgil saw was the tip of a familiar scuffed sneaker, untied shoelace flopping forward. The rest of the shoe’s owner soon followed, the boy’s face breaking out into a goofy grin the second that he saw Virgil. “So? Did you eat?”

In response, Virgil held up the empty bag, sheepish. “Couldn’t help myself. Turns out, you were right; I feel way better now. Thanks so much, Patton.” Then, after a moment’s pause, “Seriously though — you didn’t have to give that to me. My well-being is none of your responsibility. You know that, right?”

“Well, I mean, yeah, of course I do! But just because I don’t have to do something doesn’t mean that I shouldn’t , you know? And there was no way I’d have been able to stomach the thing anyway, after seeing how hungry you were and knowing that I could have done something to help. It’d be like that time I was on the swings in second grade and...” As Patton chattered on, he quickly began to veer off-topic, moving from peanuts to playgrounds to everything in between. The conversation jumped around so quickly that Virgil found himself mentally backtracking in the conversation more than a few times to try and figure out how they’d gotten there.

And yet, all the while, the ever-present smile on Patton’s face never wavered for a second — and before long, Virgil caught himself smiling back. In spite of (or perhaps because of) the lack of substance the boy’s sentences held, the carefree jumps from topic to topic were a more than welcome distraction after such a long day.

It was so much better than the typical small talk Virgil was accustomed to having to deal with, too: instead of constantly stressing over saying the right thing, all Virgil needed to do was nod along with an occasional “mhm” or “I see”. Patton could handle the rest. The boy didn’t seem likely to run out of things to talk about anytime soon.

And thank goodness for that, because Patton’s voice, chipper and energetic though it was, was... oddly relaxing, too. A round, rich, mellow sort of warmth lingered behind the boy’s every word, and Virgil could almost feel himself sinking into it. (He’d describe the tone as “fatherly” if he’d ever experienced that kind of fondness from his own father before, but alas.)

As Virgil’s focus shifted from Patton’s words to the strange warmth, a feeling he could only describe as a sort of golden glow began to collect in a swirling haze at his core before spreading outwards to fill his entire body, from the tallest hair on his head to the very tip of his littlest toe. As it spread, the dark, angry tension from a rough day’s work simply melted away, replaced with this delicate brightness that left his whole body feeling several pounds lighter, but for one little bit:

As the rest of Virgil’s muscles relaxed, his eyelids began to grow awfully heavy.

***

“…gil! Virgil, wake up!”

Virgil’s head lifted with a jolt, blinking blearily as a fearful face swam into view. Still half-asleep, he watched as its expression changed from concern to relief the instant its owner saw that Virgil was coming to.

“I’m sorry!” the wide-eyed boy was exclaiming. “I know you’re tired, and I totally would have let you keep sleeping, except you’re still at work and I don’t want you getting fired!”

At that, Virgil’s mind quite suddenly cleared. The world seemed to come into focus as his dark eyes darted around to take in his surroundings, only then realizing where it was that he’d found himself.

Suffice it to say, this was not Virgil’s dorm room.

“Oh, sh—”

Virgil hastily pushed himself off his desk, silently praying that he hadn’t drooled on the fancy wood. This was unbelievable — he had fallen asleep at work, before it was even seven, in the middle of a conversation. What must poor Patton be thinking? Virgil opened his mouth to apologise. Couldn’t think of a good way to start. Closed it again, deciding that all the words in the entire library wouldn’t be enough to describe the shame and humiliation he was feeling right now.

Instead, he settled for thanking Patton profusely for waking him up before someone else had noticed and told his boss. First the snacks, now this — the List of Ways that Patton Foley Has Saved Virgil’s Skin would only continue to grow, it seemed.

Patton acknowledged Virgil’s gratitude with a tight nod and an uncharacteristically mirthless laugh. “Jeez, I can’t believe it,” he said, echoing Virgil’s own sentiments at first, but catching the librarian off guard with his next sentence: “I actually managed to bore you to sleep, huh?”

“Hang on, what?” If Virgil hadn’t been fully awake before, he definitely was after hearing that.

“I mean, my parents always told me it was bound to happen someday, but I always figured they were joking, you know? I never thought it was actually possible.” Patton gazed ponderously at the wall behind Virgil’s head. “Wow.”

“Wait — come on, Pat, that’s not —” Virgil shook his head as he struggled to get the words out. “Don’t you even think about blaming yourself for this. You weren’t boring me at all, I promise! I’ve just — I’ve had a really long day. Nothing against you.”

The words were true, but Patton still seemed doubtful. “You sure?”

“Positive.” Virgil explained how the combination of the quiet library, the stress of the day, and Virgil’s own lack of nourishment was what had caused him to fall asleep just now — not, as Patton had apparently assumed, a lack of interest in their conversation. “To be honest, the trail mix you gave me was just about the first thing I’ve eaten all day, so —”

Patton’s brows shot up at that. “The first thing?” the boy interrupted, seeming incredulous. “Virgil, I knew you weren’t taking care of yourself, but I didn’t realize it was that bad! No wonder you fell asleep — I don’t think I’d have been able to make it past noon running on an empty stomach like you!”

“Yeah, well,” shrugged an unconcerned Virgil, “it’s not like I make a habit of it or anything. Today’s just not my day, I guess.” He glanced away as he finished speaking, pretending not to feel Patton’s intense gaze on him. A brief pause.

Of course, Patton was the one to break the silence. “Virgil.” Voice equal parts gentle and firm, he continued: “What exactly happened to you today? Besides not eating breakfast or lunch or dinner, obviously.”

“Um. Well. It was just... one of those days, I doubt you really want to hear —”

“Gonna stop you right there.” Patton’s hands were back on his hips. “I’m asking ‘cause I care. Just tell me what’s wrong, okay? Get everything off your chest and you’ll feel way better.”

Had it been any other day, Virgil probably would have resisted much more. The whole getting-everything-off-his-chest thing didn’t come naturally to him; doing so always felt uncomfortably like he was dumping his problems onto other people to solve, which (at least in his mind) only increased the amount of stress in the world.

On this particular evening, however, Virgil was simply too tired to put up a fight — and the truth was, the over-worked, under-loved young man really did need someone to vent to.

A treacherous, albeit not entirely unwelcome, thought: Maybe just this once?

Patton remained insistent. A handful of halfhearted protests later, Virgil caved.

Well… to some degree.

The truth: although his mental health had always had perhaps more than its fair share of highs and lows, he seemed to be seeing less and less “highs” lately. That wasn’t to say they weren’t there — it wouldn’t be fair for Virgil to claim his entire month had been terrible — but they were definitely starting to seem fewer and farther between.

It seemed likely that all of this frustration had been building up inside of him for a while, then. At the root of it all? Virgil wasn’t sure, but he suspected it had something to do with the event that had occurred around the same time as his mental health had first begun deteriorating again: he had been on his way home from work one day when he was hit with a sudden, inescapable, unspeakably intense sense of loneliness.

He had been living independently for almost two years, but that day must have been the first time it registered in Virgil’s mind just how on-his-own he truly was now. Having moved out of his hometown to pursue a degree while almost everyone else in his graduating class had settled into the trades, working at the library and attending his classes were pretty much the closest thing to a social life Virgil had. Around campus, he barely had ahold of anyone’s name, let alone their friendship, and spending time with his parents for fun was a laughable notion.

He supposed he should consider himself lucky — at least he got plenty of time to unwind by himself, right? Still, even the shyest, most introverted person of them all would wither without the company of other people from time to time, and Virgil was no exception. And although the brief time spent chatting with Patton last week had been nice, the boy was so much younger than he was and there was only so much that the two could talk about sitting in a library for thirty minutes at the end of the day.

The fact was, Virgil craved a real friend. Just one. Was that so much to ask?

All this and more was going through Virgil’s head, but fortunately, he was just awake enough to exercise a little self-control and keep those particular thoughts to himself. Patton had invited him to rant, yes, but the poor boy had already done more than enough for Virgil that day without having to put up with deep-rooted insecurities and desires suddenly coming out of left field to boot.

So instead, Virgil absently relayed the day’s misfortunes, laying the blame on that which seemed like the most immediately obvious source of distress. Did it help? A little bit. But in the silence that followed, the weight of words unsaid pressed heavy.

Finally, Patton broke the hollow silence with a “Wow.” Despite Virgil’s efforts to water down the stress of the day, he seemed stunned. “That is… a lot. All that bad luck in one day? Sheesh, I can’t imagine...”

Virgil shrugged. “Yeah, well. You know. At least the world seems to be done throwing things at me for now,” he said, making an effort to sound much more unconcerned than he actually felt; the waves of pity he could feel emanating from Patton were starting to smother. Sensing Patton wasn’t convinced, he kept going: “Plus, you came along to give me chocolate chips and have a chat… and didn’t even ditch me when I accidentally crashed in the middle of it all. If that’s not a sign that things are going to get better, then I don’t know what is.”

“It doesn’t feel like enough, though. There must be something else I can do,” mumbled Patton.

“Hey, forget it.” Virgil waved a dismissive hand through the air. “Really. You don’t control what happens to me, right? This was never your mess to fix in the first place.”

“I guess…” Patton’s expression remained pensive; his eyebrows knit together, his mouth puckered loosely, his nose slightly scrunched so that its many freckles were drawn into a tight formation. He was thinking hard — but what about? Virgil opened his mouth to ask.

Before he had the chance, though, Patton’s eyes flitted to the window as the boy caught sight of something. “Oh,” he said, breaking out of his thoughtful trance in an instant, “I think that’s my mom’s car.” Patton shifted the backpack straps on his shoulders. “Sorry, Virgil, I gotta go. It was really nice talking to you again!”

“See you around, then,” replied Virgil, waving a two-fingered salute as he watched Patton begin strolling to the glass doors. “Don’t forget to — uh — wear your seat belt, or… whatever.” That was a thing that responsible adult figures said, right?

Patton, to his credit, went along with it. “Don’t worry, I will. I mean, I won’t. Or… gah, words can be tough! ” He gave a good-natured laugh before clarifying: “ What I mean is, I’ll wear the seat belt. Thanks, Virgil!”

As sudden as that, the boy was gone, and with him went almost the very last scrap of Virgil’s leftover energy for the day; the doors having swung shut, Virgil’s eyelids were threatening to follow suit.

But — no, no, he couldn’t fall asleep again. After all, he wouldn’t have Patton to wake him up this time. There must be some other distraction Virgil could leverage, at least for a little bit…

Out of the corner of his eye, a weary librarian caught sight of a tempting-looking Minesweeper icon, vivid and bright on his dusty computer screen.

***

[next chapter]

General: @surleytemple @starryfirefliesbloggo @icecoldparadise @lyditist @fandom-random2405 @beach-fan @ihateitwhenyourejustvague @starryeyedhomicide @unring-this-bell @flix-net @pheonix-inside @thelowlysatsuma @residentanchor @sanderstalker @kazykazu @theres-no-winning-on-christmas

AAmour: @romanticsanders @thatrandomautist @mirror2thespirit @pokii-jonas @basicmillennial @starlitparfait @littleladynightshade @insert--self--hatred @psychixx

#virgil sanders #patton sanders #sanders sides #logicality #prinxiety #spectral scribbles #spec made something #food mention tw #food tw #aamour #a is for amour #scheduled post

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iamthekaijuking · 5 years ago

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Nice Guys

Nice guys. We’ve all heard the stories. They’re disgusting hypocritical freaks who won’t go away if they get you in their sights.

So you can understand why I was a little on edge when I realized one was stalking me in a Walmart.

He was constantly looking around corners and trying to sneakily stare at my breast. Of course, his idea of sneaky wasn’t very subtle and it was pretty obvious to everyone that he was stalking me. I tried race walking from one end of the building to another, hoping his big flabby body would run out of breath. Initially it did work, and I didn’t run into him for the rest of my shopping. I thought I finally escaped him.

When I walked out of Walmart and discovered the the fedora freak was waiting for me in the shadows.

He started following me again. I hoped someone would notice, but it was nighttime and the parking lot wasn’t well lit. I tried walking faster, but he kept up with me the entire time no matter how fast I went. When I got to my car I was fumbling for my keys. I futilely hoped that I could get in my car before he reached me. Unfortunately I was too late, and my blood ran cold as I heard those dreaded words.

“H-hey there m’lady.”

I could already imagine him tipping his fedora. I turned around, and was greeted with hot Cheeto breath coming from his thick chapped lips. He stood uncomfortably close to me.

“What’s a l-lovely chick like you d-doing alone on a night like this?”

“Please leave me alone.” I said futilely.

“W-what’s wrong? Can’t handle all this hotness m’la-“

Before he could finish his sentence he retched before stumbling backwards. The fat on his body churned and slowly made its way towards his mouth. His screams pierced the night sky and caused many people to turn their heads and gaze in terror. His agony lasted for minutes on end. People gathered around. Some tried to help while others called for an ambulance and police.

His cries reached a crescendo before being cut off as thousands of small fedoras erupted from his mouth. Some flew into the night sky while others crept into the darkness. As the last of the juvenile fedoras left his body, all that was left was a severely distended sack of skin draped over a skeleton and some loosely attached organs.

Medical help arrived shortly after along with police. The nice guy was pronounced dead. Officers questioned me, but they heavily doubted that I could have done anything to him that resulted in his current state.

I didn’t sleep well that night.

Months went on and news outlets were flooded with more and more cases just like the one I witnessed. A fedora was even captured by scientists and was tested on. What they found out from their experiments shocked everyone.

The fedoras weren’t actually fedoras. They were parasitoid flatworms that camouflaged themselves as fedoras in hopes of being worn by potential hosts, in this case nice guys, and then grew thousands of fleshy tendrils throughout the host body. The host was then partially eaten from the inside and filled with the fedora worm’s offspring who continued eating the host until they expired. If they couldn’t be pick up by a potential host in time then they’d just hunt down a nice guy to infect on their own.

And nice guys weren’t the only group being hunted by previously undiscovered species. All over the world incidents like the “nice guy massacre” were happening.

Nazis were being similarly parisitized by giant relatives of Diplozoon paradoxum who fused during mating and resembled swastikas on clothing.

Billionaires and millionaires were being eaten alive by a new family of cockroaches that resembled coins.

Rapist and sex traffickers were killed and eaten by penis worms.

Racist were straight up hunted and mauled by a subspecies of black bear.

Tyrants and dictators had the most unusual case, as they were all hunted down by a small late surviving genus of Tyrannosaur. There’s even a video on the internet of one of the feathered freaks sneaking up on Kim Jong-un and killing him.

The list could go on and on, but it seemed like all these new species coming out of the woodworks were specifically targeting the worst humanity had to offer. And whenever one of these groups took precautions or tried to protect themselves, the creatures just evolved new strategies and adaptations until the groups went “extinct”. And then most of the creatures disappeared in the wild, although some are still kept in zoos.

Obviously this new biological justice system was eating holes in many governments around the world, but as newer and much more genuinely kind people came in and filled the holes, people stopped complaining.

Now, years later, the world is peaceful. There’s no wars. Nobody is discriminated against. Everyone has equal rights. Climate change is now something that everyone is working to prevent. Humanitarian efforts are now underway to bring third world countries up to first world health standards, and with no strings attached either.

Oddly enough, the last of the groups to go extinct was nice guys. I guess nice guys really did finish last.

———————————————————————

This is my submission for @bogleech’s Creepypasta Cookoff this year.

#my writing #bogleech #creepypasta #writing #creepypasta cookoff 2019 #creepypasta cookoff

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ventivante · 5 years ago

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Part One summary | can be found here! genre | jennifer’s body!au, college!au, horror, supernatural, humor, angst, demon!wooyoung; wooyoung x reader, mingi x reader warnings | language, discussions of death, some blatant blasphemy, and very bad/cliche humor word count | 2.1k

DISCLAIMER: this fic contains lots of dark subject matter and i will put any specific trigger warnings before each part. i do not condone the unhealthy relationships portrayed in this fic, nor do i believe the characters’ real life counterparts to display these behaviors.

happy halloween y’all!

“God, just shoot me in the face,” Wooyoung whined aloud, leaning his head back to emphasize just how unhappy he was with studying.

“Stop, you’re gonna get us kicked out again,” you whispered across the table at him.

“Good! I hate this place anyway, it reeks of decaying dreams and B.O.,” Wooyoung announced dramatically, his voice still at full volume.

Against your better judgement, you’d invited Wooyoung to study with you at the library. It was against your better judgement for two reasons: first, because Wooyoung didn’t function well in environments where you needed to be quiet and you were both already on the librarian’s shit list, and second, because you felt like you owed it to him after ignoring him all weekend.

Another unspoken reason you weren’t ready to admit was that Wooyoung had been acting . . . weird over the past few days. Even weirder than he normally was. For starters, he had dyed his hair—gone were the black locks you had grown up alongside, now replaced by sandy blond, perfectly gelled movie-star hair. His response to being asked why he’d changed it?

I got bored, he had told you, as if it were the simplest question in the world.

Of course, you knew that abrupt hairstyle changes usually took place in the midst of an emotional crisis, but you hadn’t pressed the issue further. If Wooyoung wanted to talk about things that were bothering him, he eventually would on his own terms—you had learned that the hard way.

Not only had he changed his hair, but he had started dressing really different as well. Normally Wooyoung opted for comfortable sweaters and hoodies, with some standard t-shirt-and-jeans ensembles thrown in the mix. Now he dressed as if his daily commute was on a Harley Davidson motorcycle. You didn’t know where his sudden sense of style had come from, but you guessed it may have had something to do with the aftermath of the party yet again.

Despite all of the red flags, you wanted to find out just what had caused the sudden changes, and you felt partially guilty that you had been the source of it. You figured if you spent more time with him, he would open up to you and finally forgive you.

“Come on, let’s get out of here and grab some sushi, I’m staaarved,” Wooyoung pouted as he rested his head on a propped fist, eyes wide and lower lip protruding in a wholly pathetic display.

Even though he had been acting strange, Wooyoung had been in very high spirits. He was constantly joking with you and laughing over the smallest things, not common indicators that Wooyoung was undergoing mental duress. His current behavior also wasn’t a surprise, as he’d always had a distaste for studying.

“Let me just finish these last couple sections,” you sighed as you flipped the page of your anatomy book.

“I can give you the short version: Adam shoves his dick into Eve’s vagina, boink boink boink, and that’s the miracle of life,” Wooyoung explained crudely, even throwing in a few vulgar gestures for added emphasis. “There, I even included curriculum for the Bible thumpers.”

You grimaced at his tactless anatomy lesson and shut your book without another word. “That’s gross and blasphemous.”

Wooyoung only shrugged before folding his hands on the table’s surface and fixing a now serious look on you. “Don’t tell me you’re still squeamish about sex, Y/N.”

“I’ve never been squeamish, I just don’t need to shout about it from the rooftops.” You hoped that the blush you were undoubtedly now sporting didn’t undermine your words.

“Oh, boo, so boring,” Wooyoung rolled his eyes and slumped back onto the table, his chin resting on his forearms.

“Hey guys.”

You jumped as someone slid into the seat next to you, scaring the daylights out of you. Your pen was raised, ready to attack your would-be assailant before you realized it was only Yunho—one of your and Wooyoung’s few mutual friends—who had made a sudden appearance.

“Can you not just drop in like that?” you asked, lowering the pen now that you were no longer in danger.

“I announced myself! Maybe you just need to have more awareness for your surroundings!” Yunho whispered shrilly.

“Shh!” A fourth person joined in, this time from the librarian desk, where the older woman was giving the three of you the evil eye as she let out a particularly firm shush. You ducked your head bashfully and gave her an apologetic wave, hoping to convey that you would keep your friends in check.

“Have you guys heard?” Yunho started again, now lowering his voice to a more library-friendly volume. “They found a dead kid in the woods out by Hongjoong’s frat house, where that huge party was this weekend.”

You straightened at the news, feeling your heart skip a beat. “What?”

“Well, not a kid kid, it was a student here,” Yunho continued. “But they found him just yesterday. They think it was some kind of animal attack—dude was ripped to shreds from what I heard.”

“Jesus,” you breathed, your stomach beginning to churn at the thought. “What kind of animal?”

“I dunno, a wolf or even a bear maybe?”

“Dumbass, there’s no bears around here,” Wooyoung chimed in, looking positively bored with the shift in conversation.

Yunho cast an offended glare on the newly-dyed blond. “Hey, it’s possible! Climate change, bitch! Animals can come crawling here from all over now, the polar bears are migrating.”

Wooyoung rolled his eyes. “So you think this kid got mauled by a polar bear?”

“I’m just saying it’s possible.”

“Shhhhh!”

This time a student at the next table over had expressed their own irritation at the rising volume yet again. You sent them an apologetic nod of the head before turning back to your friends and lowering your voice once more. “Do we know for sure it’s an animal? Is there going to be like, an investigation or something?”

The taller boy shrugged and leaned a little closer to you to match your tone. “Cops were all over the place earlier but it’s calmed down a bit now. I think it’s officially been listed as an animal. Or, what they think it is at least. But I wouldn’t rule out the possibility that it’s some psycho killer, stalking young, vulnerable co-eds.” He grinned widely at the end of his statement, waggling his eyebrows in an exaggerated motion before poking you in the side.

You swatted his hand away and released a noise of discontent. “Don’t scare me like that.”

“Yunho, why don’t you make like a tree and leave before I chop you down at the knees?” Wooyoung posed, leaning forward on the table with an acidic smile stretching over his features.

“Come on, I’m just kidding,” Yunho laughed. “I’m sure that they’ll find whatever animal it was and put it down.”

You wished you could be as lighthearted about the situation as the other two, but the news brought on a sense of dread that was seeping into your stomach like sour milk. Had it really been a random animal attack? And if so, what kind of animal could rip a person to shreds, as Yunho had not-so-delicately put it? Or worse, what if there was a murderer wandering around campus waiting for their next victim to come along? Were you actually safe?

“There’s probably nothing to worry about at this point,” Yunho added, as if he were reading your mind.

“Good to know. On that note, I think it’s time for us to leave.” Wooyoung rose from his seat and gave you a pointed look.

This time, you actually agreed with him and began to gather your things, shoving them haphazardly into your bag. Wooyoung was at your side in the next second helping you before focusing his attention back onto Yunho.

“Try not to get eaten by a polar bear on your way home, Yunho,” Wooyoung winked.

“Bite me,” the taller boy quipped, but you and Wooyoung were already on your way to the door.

Darkness was quickly approaching as you walked beside Wooyoung back to your apartment. It made you weary, especially after hearing Yunho’s news about the attack. Your best friend, however, seemed completely unfazed by the potential danger as he slung an arm over your shoulders and hummed quietly.

“You aren’t worried?” you asked him.

“Worried? About what Yunho said?” he scoffed then and only pulled you closer to him. “Definitely not. And you shouldn’t be either. You’ve got me to protect you!”

You let out an amused bark of laughter. “You? The same person who makes me kill the spiders in your room?”

“That was when we were ten!” Wooyoung whined, giving you yet another pout. “I’m a man now, in case you hadn’t noticed!”

“Please spare me the toxic masculinity spiel,” you retorted, albeit with another giggle.

A comfortable silence fell over the two of you as you continued down the sidewalk. You allowed yourself to enjoy the moment, because it felt like it had been years since you were both this close—not just physically, but also on an emotional level. You took a second to glance up at your longtime best friend and study him.

Wooyoung’s skin glowed in the waning rays of sunlight, blemish free and smooth as fine porcelain. His nose was a little large, something he had always been concerned with, but you saw absolutely nothing wrong with it. Even his dark eyes shone brightly as the day faded into dusk. And if you weren’t mistaken, you could have sworn he had been hitting the gym too—the arm wrapped around you was firm and not as wiry as you remembered it being during childhood.

You hadn’t admitted it to him, but he had grown up to be very handsome, and sometimes you found yourself wondering how things would be if the two of you had been more than just friends. It had always been a passing thought before, but now as he held you against his side and you looked up at him, the thought didn’t seem . . . particularly bad.

Just as you were rounding the last corner before your building came into view, you decided to ask Wooyoung what you had been meaning to for the past few days.

“Wooyoung, you’re not mad at me, are you? About the party, I mean.”

There was a short pause and you felt Wooyoung’s hand squeeze your arm gently, just as your phone chirped from your pocket. Automatically, you reached for it, digging it out and bringing the device up to check the notification.

It was a text message from an unfamiliar number, which made you squint in confusion. A split second later, realization dawned on you and you let out a small gasp.

It had to be Mingi, the boy you had met at the party.

You smiled at the thought then quickly remembered you had been waiting on Wooyoung to answer your question. You glanced back up at him and saw that he was eyeing your phone with a furrowed brow. His arm now felt tense and heavy around your shoulders but his voice was still light when he spoke again.

“Your friend from the party?”

“Oh, yeah, I think so. I’ll text him later—”

Wooyoung’s arm dropped from your shoulders and he took a step away from you, creating distance that might as well have been a brick wall between you two. He stared down at his feet for a few moments then lifted his head and smiled weakly. You noticed that the smile failed to reach his eyes.

“Listen, Y/N—forget about what happened at the party. I told you, it wasn’t a big deal and I’m over it. I’ll catch you later, okay?”

Wooyoung started to turn away, shoving his hands into his pockets as he went. You felt your small window of opportunity slipping away, so you reached out for him, latching onto his jacket.

“Wait! Don’t you wanna come up and watch a movie or something?” you asked, eyes wide with an unspoken plea.

Wooyoung peeked over his shoulder at you while his lips curled into a lopsided smirk. “Maybe some other time. I’ve got dinner plans.”

#wooyoung's body #ateez #wooyoung #jung wooyoung #wooyoung fic #jung wooyoung fic #mingi #song mingi #mingi fic #song mingi fic #wooyoung x reader #mingi x reader #ateez fic #mine #writings

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xparadisexlostx · 5 years ago

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Drabbles: Beck and Charmaine

@justicescreaming

Trigger warning: vague threats and an implied attempt at assault.

When the heavy lock on the steel door slides open I have to force myself to relax under my blanket. My first instinct is to spring up and pop a couple of bullets into the head of whatever idiot thought they could sneak up on me while I was sleeping. But I don’t have a gun. I have a thin pillow, a blanket that feels like it was designed to be as scratchy as possible, and my bare fucking hands. That means I have to wait until whoever it is wanders into arms reach.

It’s not a warden, a warden would have turned on the lights. And anyway at’s “day time” or at least what would have been day time back on Earth, and I know that because I can’t have been asleep more than two hours. I am not on day shift and neither is Beck and nothing good will come from the door unlocking. Whoever it is, they’re careful to be quiet. Where the hell are the guards at the door?

I lay still. I need to catch whoever it is off guard, but they aren’t moving. It’s a waiting game, and I wonder if Beck’s sleeping. That’d be my luck. The one time I don’t want her to be sleeping she’s probably face down in the bed drooling all over her pillow. Or maybe she’s waiting like I am. She’s strange, but she’s not stupid and all this activity has to have woken her. The door has not closed, not even by a crack, and there’s low, artificial light pouring in through the hall. I shift beneath the blanket, just to judge the reaction of the intruder.

I feel the sharp, burning pain in my leg before I hear the low huff of the tranq gun or the lock sliding back into place. By the time I’m fully aware that I’ve been shot, the drugs are coursing through my lower extremities, and I feel weaker already.

Should I stay where I am? Should I try and get to my feet to fight? Where the fuck is Beck, and if she’s sleeping now through all of this the next time she tells me she can’t sleep I’m going to smother her with her own goddamn pillow.

The thoughts are racing, and I’m not moving. There isn’t any point in moving. Whoever it was ducked out to wait until the drugs were working. If I were to jump down, I’d just fall on my face and have to deal with whatever was coming on the floor. I prioritize. It’s more important to fight for a clear head than anything else.

After a short eternity the lock clicks again, and the door opens for just a split second; this time I’m already trying to lift my head to see who it is. But it’s too dark.

Of course it is.

“What did you do to her?” I can hear Beck beneath me, and she definitely knows I’ve been shot. Why wasn’t she shot? The room is as black as a pit; I can’t see my nose on my own fucking face, better yet where the indruder is. There’s a rustling by the door. The sound of boots falling to the metal floor fills the small space, and whoever it is it also trying their damnedest to scare them. Why didn’t they drug Beck too?

I already know that answer and my stomach turns unhappily---because it wasn’t supposed to go this way. I brought her to this fucking cell block to scare the guards off her, and now I can’t even lift my hand to give him the middle finger. Not that he’d see it.

“Shut up.” That’s Wilson’s voice. “You fucking embarrassed me you little bitch.”

“Fuck you.” I’m actually kind of proud to hear that much aggression in her voice, but it’s a dull, far away feeling, and the blackness in my eyes has nothing to do with how dark the room is. I’m slipping, even as my mind is screaming for me to move. He’s close enough now to grab, but he knows it. His face is level with mine on the top bunk, and he’s fucking breathing, watching me. He’s got to be smiling to himself, and I want to be angry, but I don’t feel anything anymore. It’s worse than slipping now, I’m falling, rapidly, ever down into the abyss and with the last few seconds of consciousness I have I hear him laugh.

“Looks like your little friend couldn’t save you after all.”

I wake up prematurely. The drugs aren’t out of my system, and I can feel them weighing me down like lead in my veins, but the frantic scream of the alarm and the red light illuminating the room rip me out of my slumber. It’s just enough adrenaline to force my body into action. I can hear Beck. She’s crying, begging, across the cell for some reason, and I am going to kill Wilson.

I pry my eyes open laboriously.

It isn’t Beck.

It isn’t Beck because Beck isn’t here. There’s only Wilson, and he’s curled up in the corner, his clothes are on--thank god--but they’re in tatters, and in the low red light his exposed skin is glistening with something black. It’s staining his clothes rapidly, and now he’s crying louder and he’s not making any sense. His words aren’t coherent or even complete. It’s just please. Please please please please.

I don’t know what’s happening or what he’s done, but I still want to kill him.

It takes a minute for me to realize he isn’t looking at me. He’s looking beneath me, into the enormous shadow cast by the bunk beds which, now that I’m looking at it looks way too big. Most of the cramped space is filled with the massive shadow, and it’s writhing like a hell beast. Pieces of metal glint in the crimson glow and catch my eye as the shadow sways one way and then the other.

“Collar breech in cell block alpha. Position seven.” A mechanical voice announces, blaring over the sound of the siren, and the woman’s soft, controlled tone is jarringly out of place in the midst of this chaos. A sound comes from the shadow too, but I can’t hear it clearly. The announcement runs again, and the shadow moves.

It’s growing taller and taking shape and above the sirens and monotone woman there is a roar that shakes the room so hard it hurts my ears. The roar evokes something primal in me, and Wilson must feel it too because as I feel my body force enough adrenaline through my veins to make a snail gallop, he screams until his voice goes hoarse.

The shadow is not a shadow, it’s a bear. A real, breathing, goddamn bear, and where the fuck did it come from?

I press back against the wall as hard as I can. The beast is lunging to the other side of the cell and straight for the screaming idiot in the corner. I have no clue if playing dead actually works on bears or not, but I do know that screeching doesn’t. Neither does running, but Wilson tries.

The bear falls into the wall and he ducks beneath it and charges the door. He’s banging on the little plexi-glass window, and I can see people outside staring in at him. They don’t make any move to open it, and if they were going to they missed their chance. The bear sinks its huge claws into the side of his jumpsuit and throws him back effortlessly. The beds are the only thing that save him from going straight into the wall, but I hear the force of the impact snap a bone.

“PLEASE.” He’s wailing now. The beast is crawling in on top of him, I feel its back hitting the bottom of my bunk, jostling me even as I grip at the wall. It’s sickening. As much as I’d love to snap his neck myself, the thought of witnessing someone being eaten alive actually makes me sick. The SEALS prepared me for a lot, but not for this.

Wilson is screaming at the bear and I realize I’ve been zoning out. “Beck! Beck! GOD BECK PLEASE!”

Beck? Was she there? With him? Beneath me this entire time? No. No she’d have made a sound by now. Beck...

“Beck?” My voice isn’t heard through the chaos, and the bear has pulled itself off the sobbing Wilson and is doing its damnedest to pace the cell. It’s hitting the walls, grunting and calling out wildly, and even in the strange light I catch a glimpse of the whites of its eyes. It’s panicked.

It is Beck.

The world shifts into perspective too fast. Suddenly I’m not scared, I’m curious, and that’s dangerous because the fragile little bunny I’ve been keeping beneath my bunk is actually an eight-hundred pound grizzly. And the how and why and what the absolute fuck all has to wait because she’s trapped and scarred and has nearly mauled a man to death in her own bed.

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justsomebucky · 7 years ago

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Three Hours

Summary: AU. A three-hour drive to the middle of nowhere with your boyfriend Bucky doesn’t end the way you expected.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!reader

Word Count: 1,746

Warnings: language, ridiculous amounts of fluff, apologies to bears for any assumptions made

A/N: This is my submission for the wonderful @mydragulesebastian‘s 2.5k writing challenge! Congratulations you talented goddess. Prompt is in bold. I needed a soothing balm post-IW.

You didn’t question your boyfriend of two years when he said he needed you to drive him three hours from the city. You didn’t inquire as to what could be so important that you leave as the sun was beginning to set. You didn’t ask why he couldn’t drive himself. You trusted him. He wouldn’t have brought it up if it wasn’t important to him, if he didn’t need you, and that was a good enough reason for you to hop in your car. You could do this small favor for someone you loved so much.

He’d been nervous all day, pacing back and forth like a caged animal. Maybe it had to do with this drive, though a quick glance told you his anxiety hadn’t lessened yet.

It was really strange for him to have this sort of energy since he was normally a pretty calm guy.

As he sat staring at the map on his phone, watching as the little GPS tracker showed your progress, you wondered what this was really about.

Was he in trouble?

No, that couldn’t be it. Bucky Barnes wasn’t really the type to start trouble. While his best friend Steve seemed to find it with ease, Bucky tried to stay away from it unless someone really needed him.

What could it be?

You didn’t realize you were frowning at the road ahead until he mentioned it.

“What’s wrong? Do you want me to drive?”

“I’m fine,” you insisted, switching hands on the wheel. “Put on some music or something, please.”

You didn’t want to hear your own thoughts anymore.

In your periphery, you saw him watch you carefully for a few seconds before he complied, switching to a station that played pop music.

“That?” he asked, hand paused over the buttons.

“Something a little less perky would be better.”

Bucky hummed at you, then switched it to an oldies station. A sweet melody filled your ears, and you smiled faintly.

“Thank you.”

---

Your car was the only one on that particular stretch of road at that hour, so you kept your high beams on to cast off the darkness. At this point you were just glad that no animals had decided to make an unexpected appearance in your path.

When you failed to stifle a yawn, you heard Bucky shift in his seat. He hadn’t looked at his phone or said anything for so long that you had assumed he’d fallen asleep.

“Doing okay, doll?”

“I’m all right. Are we almost there?”

“Almost.” Out came the phone map again. “Another half-hour or so.”

Questions were on the tip of your tongue: why are we out here in the dark? What is going on? Are you in trouble? Could you at least give me a hint, here?

Still, you said nothing, letting the sound of doo-wop groups of old distract you for the time being.

---

Your muscles were stiff by the time Bucky instructed you to take exit twenty-one down a winding road to a lot on the edge of a wooded area. You parked and shut the engine off before turning to him to see if you could finally get some answers.

“Are you gonna explain this? I mean, it’s just gotten a little weird, Buck.”

“It’ll be self-explanatory soon enough.”

“You didn’t make me drive out here to murder me, did you?”

Bucky made a face at you. “Hilarious. No, I asked you to drive so I could navigate. Pop the trunk, would ya?”

He must have packed ahead of time, because you didn’t know he brought a blanket and an actual picnic basket. You also didn’t know they still made picnic baskets like that because you’d only ever seen them on TV.

His arms were full, so you reached out to close the trunk before grabbing the blanket to carry.

“This is why you made me drive three hours out into the middle of nowhere? So we could have a night picnic in the dark scary woods while bears try to maul us?”

“No,” he huffed out, turning away from you toward the wooded area where a small path was lined with solar lights. “We are not here to be eaten by bears or anything else.”

You hurried to keep up. “You could have told me you wanted to go camping. I would have made sure we were all set with a nice tent, and-“

“We aren’t camping, Y/N,” he interrupted. “Just follow me.”

The air was still warm even though the sun had gone down a while ago, and for that you were grateful. Since you had no clue where you were headed, you didn’t think to bring a jacket or anything.

And really, who would have assumed that city boy Bucky Barnes would want to park himself in the middle of some trees? He was getting older, maybe he was having an identity crisis. Maybe Sam told him he went camping or hiking and bragged about it enough that Bucky felt obligated to go too.

Either way, you found yourself in the middle of a clearing, watching as Bucky took the blanket from your hands and unfurled it over the soft grass. When everything else was in place, he sat down on the blanket and patted the spot next to him. Reluctantly, you sat down cross-legged.

Yeah, you were definitely going to be eaten by a bear.

“We could have picnicked on the roof of our building, you know,” you pointed out, glancing around as your eyes finally adjusted to the dark.

There were fireflies all around you, offering a light show for free.

Bucky nudged you. “That’s something you couldn’t see from the roof of our building.”

His voice was so soft, so different than normal that you turned to look at him in question. His eyes held a faraway look, like that moment was something he’d been hoping would happen for a while now.

That’s what got you, that look of wonder in his normally stormy blue eyes. He’d grown up in the city and didn’t really get to experience this sort of thing very often.

And besides, any time spent with him was worth it, no matter the setting.

You laid back on the blanket and nearly gasped at the sight of a million stars twinkling above. You had been so focused on Bucky and your own thoughts that you didn’t even notice.

“Okay, Barnes. You got me.”

He let out a laugh before scooting a little closer to lie back too. “Was it worth the three-hour drive?”

“Yeah.” You turned your head to smile at him. “It’s beautiful.”

“Good, because any minute now it’s going to get even better.”

“What do you mean?”

Bucky’s eyes flickered back to the night sky. “Just watch.”

---

It took only ten minutes or so for anything to happen.

The moonless sky with its millions of tiny flickering stars stared back at you while you waited. Those minutes were silent, filled with contemplation. It was you and Bucky against the whole universe and you couldn’t help but feel a little encouraged.

Life could be so rough sometimes. There were days, weeks even, when you would get caught up in your work or bills or repairs or anything, really. You’d spend hours worrying, feeling anxious enough for both you and Bucky for whatever reason on any given day.

Those problems all seemed so small the moment the first meteorite blazed a path of light above you.

And you always thought after every meltdown, after the feelings finally melted away for a brief respite, that maybe Bucky was your anchor. Bucky was the one who helped put everything in perspective when all you wanted to do was give up. Bucky trudged with you through the mud until you felt light on your feet again.

This whole time, Bucky was trying to get you to see the universe for what it was - endless possibilities just waiting for you to look up and notice.

A wave of emotion crashed over you, and you reached over for his hand. You intertwined your fingers with his and watched as more streaks tore across the sky.

“So is this romantic or what?” There was a small smile on his lips; he knew the answer to that already. “I read about this meteor shower weeks ago and I just knew we had to see it.”

You squeezed his hand gently. “Definitely romantic, Buck.”

“Good.”

Bucky pulled away after a minute or so, ignoring your protests as he sat up and rummaged through the picnic basket.

You scoffed. “I was totally about to suggest cuddling. Your loss, mister.”

He muttered something unintelligible as his movements became more frantic.

You sat up too, peering over his arm to try to see what he was doing. “What are you looking for? It’s a bit late to eat, don’t you think?”

“Not food,” he mumbled, yanking the basket closer as if he was shielding it from view.

“No?” It was too dark to see, anyway. “What’s in there then? Wine?”

The telltale sign of glasses clanking together made you think it was either wine or champagne. You were just about to suggest drinking whatever it was before it got warm, but stopped when you saw something tumble to the blanket.

You leaned over, trying to reach for it from where you sat. “Is that what you’re looking for?”

Bucky set the basket aside and grabbed the small square before you could get your hands on it.

“Well, is it?”

“Yeah,” he said, running a hand over his face. He looked nervous again, and as your eyes flitted down to the small box in his grasp, you finally realized why.

“Oh my god,” you whispered, eyes wide. “Bucky…”

“I didn’t mean for you to find it first,” he groaned, shaking his head. “Dammit! This was going so well!”

You reached out and put a hand on his arm. “Buck, I promise you, nothing is going wrong. Just…just say what you want to say.”

His blue eyes flickered to yours, and he was silent for a beat.

Your heartbeat picked up the pace as you held his gaze.

Then, while light streaked across the sky above you, while fireflies sparkled and crickets sang a love song for you both, Bucky Barnes shifted to a kneeling position in front of you and opened the small box in his hand.

Really, what were three hours compared to forever?

---

#sadies2.5K #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes cheese plate story #jsb three hours #jsb writing challenge submission #sorry if there are errors I'm posting at the deadline

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