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thebestpersonherelovesbucky · 4 years ago

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Perchance to Dream

For @whumptober2020

No 8. WHERE DID EVERYBODY GO? “Don’t Say Goodbye” | Abandoned | Isolation

No 30. NOW WHERE DID THAT COME FROM? Wound Reveal | Ignoring an Injury | Internal Organ Injury

Summary: Steve knows something is very wrong. An outbreak of some sort. Something out of Hollywood’s worst nightmare.

Read on Ao3

Week One

“What’s going on up there?”

Traffic is one thing. Perfectly commonplace in Brooklyn especially, but this is utterly ridiculous, even Steve agrees. This bumper to bumper, stop and go madness is just out of control.

“I dunno,” he answers Bucky’s question. “It looks like they’re making everyone turn back around.”

“But why?” Bucky asks. “Is there something going on today? A parade or something?”

Steve chuckles as he inches the car forward. “You know as much as I do, babe.”

It's unusual but it has happened before. Something big going on that redirects traffic that the neighborhood isn't made aware of. Rare. But then, The City of New York isn't always known for its efficiency.

When the pull up to where traffic is being turned, however, it's not normal traffic cops. It's not even the NYPD. It's the military. National Guard, Steve thinks.

"Turn back that way!" yells the man in front of them. Dressed in full riot gear. "Just follow the detour!"

Rolling down the window, Steve doesn’t intend on giving them a hard time. He’s just curious about whatever’s happening. As a former captain of the army, Steve is familiar with military procedure and now that he’s a paramedic, maybe he can help. He’s sure Bucky, the former sergeant of the 107th, won’t mind lending a hand either, if they need it.

“Is there any way we can help, private?” Steve asks after he explains who they are. “Is anyone hurt?”

Before answering, either to turn them away like everyone else or wave them in through the barricade, he looks over his shoulder. When he glances back at Steve again, he looks rather dismayed. Both Steve and Bucky know damn well that whatever he’s about to say, even if it’s virtually nothing, it’ll be against protocol. He’s supposed to be directing traffic away from the area. Not answering anything.

“We’re not entirely sure,” he says. “We’ve just been told to clear the area. If I were you, I’d get home and get in touch with any officers you might still have an in with.”

That’s all he says on the matter before straightening back up again and waving them along like everyone else. It’s enough for Steve, though. If a soldier, trained not to divulge anything, gave them just that nugget of information, it means something big is about to happen.

They follow the soldier’s advice as soon as they get home. Steve immediately tries calling his contacts. He starts with Peggy who confirms that something really is happening.

“I don’t have the details yet,” she says. “But we’re mobilizing all over the country.”

On the television, Bucky’s turned on the news. There’s nothing out of the ordinary on it right now. The typical stories. The weather. Some crimes. Financial changes. Only a few reports about a possible rabies outbreak throughout a few major cities.

“Do you have any idea what it is?”

“Just that the CDC and WHO have been flooded with calls and reports about an outbreak of some unknown virus.” There are a lot of things happening on Peggy’s end and she lowers her voice. “Keep watching the news,” she says, “but they’re not getting the full report. I’ll call you when I have more information.”

The call goes dead then, and Peggy’s never ended a call so abruptly before. Even when in a rush, she always says her farewell. Just a simple, “Good bye, darling,” and a kissy noise.

The way she hurried now, the stress and worry in her voice, it makes Steve’s stomach flatten.

“What’d she say?”

Bucky, who left the room to grab himself an apple, tosses one to Steve as he plops down on the couch.

“Um…” Steve shakes his head. “I…”

The lack of response has Bucky paying closer attention to him now. The worry is clear on his face.

“What is it?” he asks. “Is it serious?”

“I…dunno. She couldn’t say.”

“Well…that doesn’t sound good.” He glances at the television. Just a story about a woman being found with multiple animal bites this afternoon in Connecticut. “Did you call Rhodey?”

“Um, no. I was about to do that now.”

Steve’s already scrolling through his contacts for the right one. When he gets to the right one, he hits send and lets it ring and ring and ring until he gets the voicemail. Normally, no one bothers with voicemails -- a simple text will suffice -- but things feel off enough that he does.

“H-hey, Rhodes, it’s Steve. I…um, just…call me. When you can.”

But Rhodey doesn’t call back.

And he doesn’t answer when Steve tries again an hour later. Or when he calls again an hour after that. Or the three times after that.

In fact, it’s a little after three in the morning when they hear from anyone.

Both Steve and Bucky are asleep on the couch. They passed out together watching the news. Looking for anything that might clue them in to what’s happening. Nothing helped.

But the phone ringing startles Steve awake, and since Bucky’s lying on top of him, it jerks him awake as well. It takes Steve a moment to realize what’s happening and when he sees who’s calling, his eyes go wide.

“Rhodey?” he answers, hoping to keep the panic from his voice. “Rhodey, is that--”

“Steve, I need you to listen to me and listen closely,” Rhodey says, hurried and low. “Do not interrupt. I can only say this once. Containment didn’t work. This thing is going to spread like a fucking brush fire. You and Bucky pack up bags right now, only what you need, and have them by the door. They’re gonna quarantine in quadrants first and when…if that fails, they’ll try to evacuate the cities. When that happens, just go. Do not wait. Whatever you do, do not let them bite you. I’ll be in touch if I can.”

“Wait, wh…Rhodey…”

“One more thing,” Rhodey says. “Go for the head.”

The line goes dead then and Steve’s heart begins to pound. All that urgency, the god-awful fear in Rhodey’s voice, it makes Steve’s blood run cold.

“Steve?” Bucky places a hand on his shoulder. “What’s wrong? What is it? What’d he say?”

Steve looks at the phone still clenched in his hand before flicking his gaze to meet Bucky’s.

“He said,” Steve whispers, “we have to pack.”

Week Two

There are two bags by the front door, packed and ready to be grabbed at a moment’s notice. Just like Rhodey said, they’ve been quarantined in a four block radius since two days after they spoke. Steve hasn’t heard a word from either Rhodey or Peggy since.

Martial law has been declared for two weeks now and the military is patrolling in full force. Always in riot gear. On foot or in tanks. Always armed. There’s a strict curfew being enforced. Each zone has been sectioned off with barbed wire blockades that are manned around the clock. There are snipers on every other rooftop. Sirens blare all day and night.

Of course, people are coming up with their own reasons for what happened. Obviously, it has to be terrorism. The number one excuse for more racism. Even with absolutely no evidence to support their claims.

Lots of theories have been floating around. Everything from bioterrorism to some sort of super bug to the start of World War Three. It’s hard to keep track of facts versus conspiracies since the internet keeps crashing. The phone lines keep going in and out as well. Steve doesn’t know if that’s being done in order to cut off communication or if it’s just a side effect of whatever’s happening. He assumes it’s the former and can only hope it’s the latter.

Restrictions are even tighter come sundown. No exceptions. Nobody is even permitted to sit outside on their stoops or in their yards. Once the sun sets, everybody is ordered indoors. Helicopters pointing spotlights down over everything circle all night.

The news is only somewhat helpful and, Steve’s sure, being censored as well. Every hour on the hour there’s an emergency broadcast. All other stations are not in service. Steve keeps in mind what Peggy told him. To keep watching but to remember that they don’t have all the information.

And what little information they’ve been providing is sketchy at best.

“This is Elizabeth Brandt.” Steve can hear the television from the kitchen where he’s making lunch for Bucky and himself. Canned soup. “Coming to you live to bring you this important news bulletin.”

“Hey, Steve!” Bucky calls from the living room. “News is back on!”

“I’m coming,” Steve murmurs as he heads back into the living room where Bucky’s waiting on the couch. “Anything new?”

“Mm-mm.” Bucky gets up to offer Steve help. Takes one of the bowls. “Just something about the hospitals being filled to capacity.”

Every news report that comes on has information scrolling at the bottom of the screen. Today, it’s about insurance rates expecting to spike over seventy-five percent in the next coming weeks.

“We are receiving unconfirmed reports right now,” the newscaster says, “of seemingly random acts of violences and mass murder that have occurred in some major cities. We will continue to bring you live updates as this story unfolds.”

“Jesus,” Bucky whispers. “Mass murder? How did we go from rabies to mass murder?”

“People are scared,” Steve offers. “They might be panicking.”

“The violence I can understand. I mean, I’m fucking scared and we have a little more information.” A tremble flies up Steve’s spine. That’s the first time Bucky’s said anything about being scared. At least Steve’s not the only one. “But mass murder? People being violent because they’re scared and mass murder are two different things. Don’t you think?”

Steve, taking a spoonful of soup and burning his tongue in the process, nods. He knows Bucky’s right, but despite his fear and worry, he’s still trying to stay positive.

“It’s the media,” Steve says. “Maybe they’re exaggerating.”

The look Bucky gives him, slightly amused but also doubtful, makes Steve smile. He knows that Bucky knows he’s just reaching for answers or excuses.

“You’re adorable, Rogers,” he murmurs and presses a kiss to Steve’s cheek. “I hope you know that.”

Steve chuckles. “Why?”

Head against Steve’s shoulder, Bucky uses his free hand to caress Steve’s thigh.

“Because even during the apocalypse you look for the bright side.” Bucky hums softly. “I love you for that.”

“Well, I think that’s a compliment, so I’ll take it.” Steve grins softly. “And I love you, too.”

If anyone could make Steve smile during this, it’d be Bucky. At least they have each other.

Week Three

The only time either Steve or Bucky sleep in their bed anymore is when they take quick naps during the day. When at least one of them is awake. Always ready to watch the news when the television comes back on the air. If it’s not, there’s just a Please Stand By screen. Sometimes colorbars and a high-pitched ringing.

At night, they sleep on the couch together. When they can both sleep. Which is not that often.

Right now, Bucky is sleeping with his head in Steve’s lap. Steve has been dozing a little, but he can’t fall into a deep slumber. Not with Bucky out like a light. He deserves some sleep and Steve enjoys this little moment of peace when he can just run his hair over Bucky’s head and pretend like nothing else is happening in the world.

Steve’s actually nodding off a bit when Elizabeth Brandt is on the screen again.

“Good evening,” she says, “for those of you who are just tuning in…” Steve wonders if she really needs to say that every time they come back on. He can’t imagine there’s anyone who isn’t at least paying a little attention. “We are going to try to remain on the air for the remainder of this crisis.”

Across the screen, as usual, are mini-stories scrolling by. Steve tries to follow along as they do.

A family of five has been found dead in Jacksonville, Florida. Police have described the victims as having been…”torn apart” by their attackers.

“There have been wide-spread attacks,” Ms. Brandt continues, “all across the country, by what are being described “rabid people” in a “trance-like state”.

Military forces have deployed to every major city to cope with the drastic increase in crime and violence.

“Now, whatever this is, the phenomenon does not appear to be limited to the United States. We’re receiving reports of similar cases coming in from cities all around the world. We still have no specific answers as to why this is happening. Reports range from a germ or a virus with a mind altering effect or possibly some sort of chemical spill causing or a behavioral disorder causing mass hysteria.”

Over a dozen bodies have been found in what police are calling a ‘mass grave’ were found with severe ‘bite marks’ in various parts of the body.

“The president has issued a statement urging all people to stay in their homes and lock their doors until the situation is handled.”

The station reverts back to the stand-by screen and Steve’s stomach hurts. He’s somehow both too hot and too cold at the same time. He briefly considers waking Bucky to tell him these updates, but decides against it.

“Sleep, my love,” he whispers. “We’ll deal with this in the morning.”

Bucky shifts a bit, his nose wiggling and fingers scratching at something on his cheek.

Steve smiles and then checks his phone. All the unanswered messages. He hasn’t heard from Peggy or Rhodey in almost two weeks and what he did get was a few words at most.

Reminders to be ready.

To be alert.

Pay attention.

Sighing, Steve puts the phone down and rests his head on the back of the couch, hoping to get a little rest.

Week Four

Steve jerks awake to a high-pitched ringing. Sun is streaming in through the bedroom windows, the curtains pushed open. It takes him a few moments to realize what the noise is and that he’s actually slept through the night.

Steve flings the blankets away and hurries out of the bedroom to see Bucky seated at the very edge of the couch just staring at the television. There’s no one there. It’s just a message. A message from the Emergency Broadcast System. And it says nothing about this being just a test.

We interrupt our program at the request of local authorities. This is the Emergency Broadcast System. All normal broadcasting has been discontinued during this emergency. This station will continue broadcasting, furnishing news, official information and instructions, as soon as possible for the Extended Operational area.

As Steve approaches the couch, he notices that Bucky’s breaths are hitched. He’s chewing on his nails -- an old nervous habit of his -- and bouncing his knee. There’s a tear rolling down his cheek.

When Steve slips a hand over Bucky’s shoulder, Bucky gasps and spins his way. He clearly tries to wipe those tears away before Steve cans them and fakes a smile.

“Hey,” Steve murmurs. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“N-no. You didn’t. I just…” Bucky shakes his head and huffs a chuckle. “I just didn’t hear you.”

“What time is it?”

“Almost noon.”

Steve nearly topples over at that. He had no idea how late it was. He hasn’t slept that much in weeks.

“Why didn’t you wake me?”

Bucky offers a soft grin. This one, Steve believes, is genuine, and that gives him a sense of peace, however small.

“Why don’t you ever wake me?” he asks. “Probably for the same reason.”

Nodding, because Steve can’t really argue with that logic, he comes around to sit with Bucky. As soon as he sits, Bucky scoots a little closer. Steve takes his hand. Bucky squeezes.

“What’s happened?” Steve asks. “Something new?”

“No. They went out about an hour ago.” He gestures to the television. “It’s been like that since.”

Both their cellphones are on the coffee table. Steve reaches for his but figures he already knows the answer to this one.

“They’re still out, too,” Bucky says as Steve clears his screen. They’ve been keeping them charged, of course. Just in case. But the cell service has been out since last week. “Internet, too.”

The no service icon on Steve’s phone still gives him chills. The last time he spoke to someone on it was two weeks ago. When Rhodey called to say that things are going downhill.

That’s when Steve agreed to take out their weapons. While both he and Bucky agree that gun control needs to be better enforced, they’re still armed. A leftover effect from combat, maybe. The need to feel protected and able to protect each other.

They don’t have a militia worth of weapons or anything. Just the standard, really. Things for survival. Dehydrated food. Bottled water. First Aid kits. Really, the two of them can survive for a few months completely off the grid. It’s just that…well, they don’t really want to.

“Hey,” Steve whispers when Bucky starts staring at the television again. “You okay?”

“Mhm.” When Steve covers the top of Bucky’s hand with his, Bucky sighs and shakes his head. “I’m, uh…I’m starting to get really scared.”

“I know.” Steve nods. “So am I.”

“I don’t fuckin’ like this, Steve. They fucking roll up in their armored cars and tanks and start patrolling the streets, claiming it’s for our safety, but they won’t tell us what’s wrong. No wonder people are pissed.”

Pissed is actually a kind way of putting it. More like fucking infuriated. And, honestly, Steve can’t blame people. He’s not exactly overly thrilled that the government, here in this country and clearly in others around the world, are not telling them anything.

Instead, they just send the freaking military into civilian areas and expect everyone to fall in line.

In fact, when Steve lets himself think about it, he’s fucking infuriated as well. If not for having friends in high places, the two of them probably would have split from here a while ago. Possibly when this first started.

It’s too late for that, though.

There’s no way they can get over the bridges to get to the mainland and it’s not as though mass transit is still running. Hell, there isn’t even any cell service or internet. There’s been rolling blackouts and the news keeps going out, but, they’re still expected to just sit in their homes and wait to be told it’s all clear.

Steve has no idea how the fuck they’re expected to trust in…shit, he’s not even sure who anymore.

Week Five

“Widespread panic continues across the country.” Elizabeth Brandt no longer wears make-up. Her hair isn’t done. Every now and then there’s a tremble in her voice. “Many communities are without telephone. Most without power. Some without water.”

Steve wrings his hands together. They still have some power left but it comes in and out. Right now, the only light they have is that of the T.V. Nighttime, they’ve been instructed to keep the lights off and the shades drawn. They haven’t had any way to contact anyone for over a week now. Water went off yesterday.

“Scientists at the CDC have released the following statement,” she says. “This virus is passed through bodily fluid such as blood and saliva. It is most often passed through bites but can be contracted if contaminated blood is absorbed into the body.”

“What the hell?” Bucky breathes, leaning forward and resting his arms over his knees. “What the fuck is this shit?”

Hand on Bucky’s back, Steve rubs it in soft circles trying to offer whatever comfort he can. Hard, that, when he’s just as confused and concerned and afraid.

“The infected exhibit rabid-like symptoms within five to thirty minutes of infection including skin inflammation, flu-like symptoms such a headache, violent coughing, and sore throats, and nausea and vomiting. At two hours, mild paralysis sets in leading to locking of the joints but does not lead to immobility. Finally, severe confusion and aggression.” Ms. Brandt pauses before she continues. “We have some…some footage here of some people who have contracted the virus but we must advise you this may be difficult to watch.”

On the screen now is video footage clearly taken on a cellphone. Somewhere in Europe, Steve thinks, based on the license plates. When they hear people start talking, rushed and panicked, Bucky murmurs that they’re speaking Romanian.

A moment later, screaming. Running. Gunshots. Sheer chaos and pandemonium. Only Steve can’t see what they’re running from. The phone’s camera is shaking violently as its owner runs.

Until a person next to them tumbles and falls to the ground. Whoever’s filming stops to try to help and drops the phone in the process. But the camera is still rolling.

And within seconds, someone…or something comes into view.

A man, or at least what used to be a man. His head is bent nearly all the way to the left and his jaw is clearly broken. He’s dragging his right leg but that doesn’t seem to impede his speed. His right arm is twisted and locked against the side of his body. There’s blood everywhere. Around his mouth. Dripping from his eyes and nose and ears. He lunges for one of the two people there. They both scream.

The video ends there.

When the screen goes back to Elizabeth Brandt, she’s staring blankly. Not at the camera. Just staring out at nothing. Trembling. Until someone off-camera clears their throat.

Her gaze slowly lifts and focuses back on the camera facing her. She sucks in a deep breath and nods.

“The military is mobilizing,” she murmurs, very quiet. Little emotion other than the fear that’s permeating through this living room, “in an attempt to evacuate all major cities.” Ms. Brandt’s breath staggers. “We’re providing a list of rescue stations.” Scrolling on the bottom of the screen. “Please, make your way to the rescue station closest to you. If you are watching this broadcast at this time, please, get to a rescue station immediately.”

The screen starts cutting in and out, and Ms. Brandt is still speaking when it cuts off completely and goes dead. Colorbars with a high-pitched ringing is all that’s left.

“Steve…” Bucky whispers. “Did you…did you…this can’t be happening.”

All Steve can think about is Rhodey’s first call to him.

They’ll try to evacuate the cities, he’d said. When that happens, don’t wait. Go.

“We have to go.”

Steve is already on his feet. First thing he does is grab two of their handguns. Both loaded. The only time Steve’s ever considered bringing a gun outside is when they go to the gun range and they’re always stored in locked cases.

“Where are we going, Steve?” Bucky asks. “It cut out before the list even reached Brooklyn.”

“I don’t care,” Steve replies, shoving one of the guns into Bucky’s hands. “But we need to get out of here. We’ll figure it out.”

Bucky doesn’t question any more than that. Seems he’s already caught up with Steve’s thinking and wants to get the fuck out of there as much as he does. Even more so when they hear gunshots from not all that far away.

They both freeze on the way to the door and stare at each other for a second. They’re leaving everything behind, Steve knows that. The bags they packed a few weeks ago are useless now.

“I love you, Bucky,” Steve says and pulls him in for a kiss. “We’re gonna get through this.”

Strange and horrifying as all this is, Bucky still manages a smile and grabs Steve’s hand. Tight. Unwilling to let go.

“I know.” He nods and adds his own kiss. “I love you, too.”

Steve takes one last, long look at Bucky before he wretches open the door and they dash outside.

It’s already chaotic. People are doing the same as them. Running. With no sense of direction, they just fucking run. Steve runs with Bucky’s hand still tucked securely in his.

The military there is trying to give out instructions. No one’s listening, of course, and even if Steve wanted to, he can’t understand them anyway.

There are people everywhere. Parents carrying children. Lovers clinging to each other. Friends desperate to help each other. Some people trip and fall, and Steve and Bucky do what they can to help them back to their feet. Others aren’t so lucky and are trampled.

Horns are blasting and metal twists around metal and glass shatters. There’re fires. More gunshots. Looting.

They’ve only gone a few blocks when the screaming changes. The panic shifts to outright horror and fear. One glance over his shoulder confirms Steve’s worst fears.

They’re being chased by the infected. Several of them. Lots of them. So many…

“Where the fuck did they come from?!” Bucky shouts as he pulls out his gun. “They’re everywhere.”

Behind them, there’s snarling and growling. Squelching sounds and crunching bones.

Steve is suddenly very aware of the sound of his own breathing. It’s all he can hear over the screams and cries for help. His heart is pounding like it’s never done.

This is all wrong.

Nothing makes sense.

These people need his help and he’s just running. That’s not what he does. That’s not what either of them do. But Steve doesn’t know what to do. Doesn’t know how to help these people. To save them. All he can do is run until his legs feel like jelly and his chest hurts and his head is spinning.

They get a bit of luck when they have a chance to duck into an alleyway that’s not far from a school. The list that had the rescue spots listed a lot of schools and churches in the other boros. Can’t be too different for them.

When they reach the end of the alley, there’s a fence that they need to climb over. A few people, not infected from what Steve can tell, have followed. Them, Steve helps as best he can by assisting them up and over the fence.

Bucky, already on the other side of the fence, helps them over and down. Some of these people seem to know each other. Possibly a family. Three children. Four adults.

They say something about trying to get to the rendezvous point. That they’re evacuating people in trucks and buses and vans not that far from here.

One of the adults climbs over the fence and runs without waiting for anyone else. Steve hopes that means they’re not associated with the rest of them. Another climbs over and waits as Steve and the other two help the three children.

They’ve just made it over, Bucky helping the last one and handing her off to the person next to him, when his eyes go wide.

“Steve…” He’s gone very rigid, staring at something behind Steve. “Hurry.”

Steve glances over his shoulder. Sees what Bucky does. Three people. Growling. Drooling. Their bodies all contorted, and bones cracking when they take a few steps in Steve’s direction.

“Holy shit,” Steve breathes and then whirls back to the last person on this side of the fence with him. He grabs him and shoves him at the fence. “Go! Go, now! Hurry!”

“Steve!” Bucky yells. “Steve, hurry! Come on, please!”

In his rush, Steve slips a time or two as he clambers to the top of the fence. The entire thing shakes and trembles. The young man next to him nearly loses his grip and falls. Steve grabs him by the wrist and keeps a hand on his back to help him.

“God damn it, Steve!” Bucky shouts. “Come on! You need to run!”

They’re at the fence now. Grabbing at Steve and his companions legs. Tearing at their clothes. Trying to pull them back down.

When Steve makes it to the top, he swings one leg over, and just as he goes to bring the other, a sharp, unimaginable pain radiates at his ankle and shoots up his entire leg. He screams as he jerks his knee up and grabs his ankle.

The pain is so agonizing that Steve lets go of the fence and falls the rest of the way, landing with a hard thud on the concrete. Something might break, he isn’t sure. It’s the pain in his ankle that has his attention.

“Steve!” Bucky is at his side the second he hits the ground. “Steve, what happened? Are you all right? Can you get--oh fuck.”

Steve snaps his gaze back to the fence. Where the infected are climbing up it. To make matters worse, there are three coming into this side of the alley on the other end.

“Bucky…” Steve pants and coughs. His ankle throbs and that fall knocked the wind out of him. “Get the…the kids…”

They’re all trapped. If they’re going to get the rest of these people out of here, Steve knows what needs to be done. He and Bucky need to separate.

Gun at the ready, Bucky nods and shoots back up to his feet, stepping in front of the group of people with his weapon aimed. Steve reaches into his holster and pulls out his own gun.

They start shooting.

Steve knows he hits them. One in the arm. One in the leg. One in the chest. But they keep coming. He fires again. Foot. Shoulder. Back. And they still keep coming.

“The heads!” Bucky suddenly yells. “Steve, go for their heads!”

Vision blurry and ears ringing, Steve takes several shots before finally getting one in the head. He manages to get another but the third, right before she’d lunge at Steve, is taken down by Bucky. She falls in a heap right next to Steve.

Once again, Bucky drops by his side. At the same time, he’s waving at the rest of the people there to run. They do, but not before thanking them.

“Come on, Steve,” Bucky says. “You gotta get up.”

That fall did a lot more to him than Steve realized. It shouldn’t be all that surprising. He just fell at least ten feet. His head hurting isn’t very shocking. The sore throat is a little unusual, but Steve figures that’s from all the screaming.

Still, he’s so dazed and disoriented, that when Bucky once again tries to pull him back to his feet, he tries to push him off.

“Just go,” Steve grunts, “get outta here.”

“No,” Bucky growls between his teeth. “Not without you. Now c’mon, Steve. Get. The fuck. Up. Now.”

If they weren’t in the middle of a zombie-like apocalypse, Steve would laugh. That tone, it’s not one to be reckoned with.

Steve nods and accepts Bucky’s help as he brings him back to his feet. The strain makes Steve grunt and he teeters a bit off balance.

“You okay?” Bucky asks. “You with me?”

“Always.”

Even in the midst of a waking, walking nightmare, Bucky scoffs a laugh and, fuck, that smile is worth walking through fire for.

“Don’t get all sappy on me now, Rogers.”

Steve is limping a bit, but after just half a block, he’s able to at least sprint without needing to lean all of his weight against Bucky.

The coughing starts a few minutes later. Uncontrollable fits that have Steve doubled over. His head hurts so bad that he almost wants to bash it against a wall.

That fucking fall. He’s taken hits worse than that, he’s sure of it, yet one tiny fall off a tall fence has him ready to keel over. He can’t, though. He needs to suck it up and keep running to get Bucky out of here.

“Steve?” Bucky asks when Steve is bent over coughing again. “Baby, are you okay?”

“Yeah.” He nods and tries to straighten again. “I think…I think I broke a rib or something.”

“Okay. Okay, you’re gonna be okay,” Bucky assures him. “We’re not far now. When we get there, they’ll help you.”

Spitting some blood from his mouth, Steve wipes his arm across his and clears his throat, wincing from the pain of it. He exhales sharply and then lets Bucky wrap his arm around his waist to assist him again.

Only this time, when Steve takes a step with his right foot, white light flashes in front of his eyes and he shrieks as his weight falls out from under him.

“Steve!” Bucky goes down with him. “What is it? What happened?”

Steve shivers from head to toe. It’s too hot out. He has no idea when it got so freaking hot out. It’s only April for god’s sake.

“Stevie…”

Steve can just make out Bucky’s voice through clogged ears. Then it disappears altogether and all Steve can see is Bucky’s lips moving. It’s hard to make out what he’s saying, but Steve can venture a guess. So he nods, assuming Bucky’s asking if he’s all right, and lets Bucky help him back up.

“Come on, baby, we’re almost there.”

Bucky’s right.

They’re not far.

Just another two blocks sees them at the blockade. There are swarms of people being ushered in a few groups at a time.

As Bucky leads Steve there so they can wait their turn, Steve takes a glimpse down at his ankle. It’s covered in blood. He knows it’s his. It’s seeped into his jeans and down into his sock. That's why, he realizes, his foot squishes every time he walks. That’s why it hurts when he walks. That’s why…

Eyes filling with tears, Steve coughs again, his breaths shuddering. Bucky readjusts his grip on him. Helps him as best he can because that’s what they do. They help each other. They save each other. They love each other.

Steve just watches him now. His Bucky. His best friend. The man he’s loved since they were a couple of punk kids running around the streets of Brooklyn. Life had taken them in different directions after middle school but they still found their way back to each other.

“What?” Bucky asks when he notices Steve staring at him. “Are you okay? Do you need to sit?”

“No.” A sense of peace and calm washes over Steve. “I just love you.”

The corners of Bucky’s mouth twitches. Almost a smile. Hard to smile with all this, but it’s almost there.

“I love you, too, Steve.”

Steve coughs more. His throat is on fire. His stomach turns, nausea creeping through.

When they finally reach the entrance through the barricade, Steve hands Bucky his gun just as he walks through.

“Steve, what’re you doing?”

“Take it,” Steve whispers. “You’ll need all the protection you can get.”

“I have my own,” Bucky says. “You need it.”

Steve shakes his head and ignores the officers trying to move them along.

“Just take it. And go.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?! Come on, Steve! Don’t fuck around!”

Those tears almost get the better of Steve, but he manages to hold them back. For now.

He looks down at his ankle and lifts up the bottom of his jeans. Shows Bucky what Steve already knows is there.

A bite.

A big chunk of his skin all red and black and blue and swollen.

It pulses. Throbs. It’s almost unbearable.

“No…” Bucky whimpers. “No, no, no. We can…you’re gonna be fine. You…”

“Go, Bucky.”

“No! No, I’m not leaving you!” Abruptly frantic, like he can’t figure out what’s happening or what to do, Bucky starts to shake all over. “No. No, I’m staying. I’m staying with you. I’m not leaving you!”

The tears finally break through, mirroring those rolling down Bucky’s cheeks. But Steve won’t give in. He won’t be selfish. He’ll save Bucky. Even if that means taking himself out of the picture.

“I’m bitten,” Steve says to the soldiers there. “Take him out of here.”

They don’t wait.

Steve’s actually surprised he and Bucky got this last bit of time together. That doesn’t stop Bucky from screaming. From struggling with all his might against the soldiers dragging him away.

“No! No, Steve! Steve, please! God, no! No, this can’t…you can’t leave me! You can’t!”

Bucky’s reaching over the soldiers. Trying desperately to get back to Steve. Even for just one last touch.

And Steve is selfish enough for that.

He reaches once.

Their fingers graze.

Stomach lurching just as they load Bucky in the back of a military truck and it drives away, taking Steve’s whole life with it, Steve claps a hand over his mouth and pushes out of the crowd. Right at the fringe of it, he leans over to be ill.

Steve doesn’t know what’s going to happen to him now, but he does know that he’s going to be a danger to all these people soon. No matter how much it hurts -- and it does, inside and out, like a red-hot poker shoved between his ribs -- he pushes onward. Gets himself out of there. As far away as possible before his legs give out from under him and he collapses in a gutter not far from where he and Bucky met.

Week ???

The sun beats down on the empty city streets. Sizzles and burns Steve’s skin. He knows it is happening. Feels it happening. Can do nothing about it.

He cannot remember how.

Sometimes, he cannot even remember his own name. He knows he has one. Or did have one. It is not that important.

The ankle that was bit still throbs. It always does. Now, that foot is all twisted. He can’t really bend his right knee and his right arm is clenched to his chest. He has been unable to move it for the longest time.

Sometimes Steve sees people. Real people. The way he used to be. If they see him, they scream and run. If they have weapons, they try to kill him.

He wants to tell them that he does not want to hurt them. And that much is true. Steve doesn’t want to hurt them. But he will. He can’t stop it. The guilt is overwhelming, the screams of the people he has hunted down echoing through his ears.

He is just so very hungry. Always hungry. Or maybe he is thirsty. His tongue and mouth and throat are on fire. The taste of iron has not left his mouth since the first meal he had.

The only other thing he wants to do is sleep. Nothing ever stops, though. Steve can’t sleep. All he ever does is wander.

There is a building he passes from time to time that feels right. Familiar. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knows there’s a word for it. It sits at the tip of his tongue. Not that it matters. He cannot speak anything more than grunts and moans and growls.

That’s because of the pain. So much pain that ravages through his entire body, day and night.

Steve can’t stop crying. It is different now. He doesn’t think he is doing it right, but he still cries. Wordless and soundless.

Maybe he has lost something. It feels like that. Very much so. Like he is looking for someone. Someone that left him here. Right? Or…no, that is not right. The others did. They left Steve and the rest of the Wanders to rot.

Things do not make sense so much anymore. They haven’t in a long time.

He hates them. Steve doesn’t know who but he does and he wants to hurt them until they feel as much pain as he does. If he gets the chance he’ll bite into their flesh and tear into through skin and gnaw down to their bones just to hear their screams.

No.

No, no, no, no, no…no.

Why does he want that?

Steve can’t remember.

If he finds them…them…him…then maybe it will be better. The pain won’t go away but that smile. Yes, that smile.

Bucky.

The name pulses through him and for one single second, Steve’s existence makes sense again. That second passes quickly.

Something is behind him. Steve can hear it. Smell it. Fresh meat. Warm. Alive.

Head stuck tilted to the right, Steve turns, his bones creaking and cracking along with the movements. The living. Three of them. From the smell of them, two males and one female.

Steve is hungry. It does not matter that they carry weapons, Steve will try to get food. He opens his mouth. Jaw popping, drool leaking over his teeth. Steve hisses. Tries to warn them. Threaten them. Demand they do not move so he can have his meal.

“I hate it when they make that noise,” one of the males says. “Fucking creepy.”

“Oh, c’mon, Sam,” the female answers, “you’re not losing your nerve, are you?”

Steve runs toward them now. If they do not shoot him first and set him free, he will catch them and he will eat them and for just a few moments he will not be hungry.

“No, Nat, not losing my nerve,” Sam says. “Doesn’t stop that noise from being any less creepy.”

“Yeah.” Nat nods. “I’ll give you that.”

“Stark, what’re you waiting for?” Sam asks the second male. “You wanna be his happy meal?”

“Not today,” Stark replies and Steve is only a few steps away when he raises his weapon and it discharges.

Hits him in the chest. Steve does not stop. A puny weapon as that will not come between him and his food. Except when a new pain spreads from that spot and sparks throughout his entire body, Steve drops to his knees and gasps for air.

They have hurt him more. More pain.

So much more pain.

Pain.

“All right,” Stark says when Steve falls forward, unable to move. “Tag ‘im and bag ‘im.”

Nat crouches down in front of Steve and turns his head so that he’s facing her. She lifts his eyelid up and clicks her tongue.

“You’re right, Stark,” she says. “He’s one of the firsts.”

Sam comes close. Take a good look as well. Must agree because he nods but why will they not kill Steve? It will be better for them…for him…

“Eyes are totally bloodshot,” Sam says. “Poor guy.”

“Well, let’s get ‘im back to the lab,” Stark tells them. “Bruce and Helen will wanna have a look.”

A lab.

Steve cannot remember this word but it makes his insides feel wrong. Afraid. Maybe that is it.

***

Steve feels quite weightless.

Floaty.

No, not floaty. Actually floating.

Perhaps that means he’s finally died. If that’s that case, he’s not sure if he’d feel this good. After everything he’s done as a Wanderer, he deserves damnation, not salvation.

There should be no reward. No easing of his pain. And this dull ache in the back of his head, the heat in his throat, and the aches in his body is the most relief he’s had since…well, it feels like a lifetime ago.

Although, if by some miracle, he’s been let into an eternal paradise, maybe that means he’ll reunite with Bucky someday.

Oh.

Oh, his Bucky.

A tremble flies up his spine.

The last time Steve saw Bucky, he was crying and scared and screaming for him. He could still feel the spot where their fingers last touched.

But it was the right thing to do, it was. If Bucky had stayed with him, he’d’ve died. All this guilt topped with the idea of taking Bucky’s life as well? No, Steve couldn’t handle that.

It occurs to Steve then that he hasn’t fully been able to recall Bucky in quite some time. Now, he’s all Steve can think about.

The pain in his ankle feels so much better.

His head isn’t tilted.

His arm isn’t pinned against his chest.

Steve finally gains enough coherency to open his eyes. When he does, he gasps and thrashes about.

He’s submerged in water. In a vertical tube. There are wires hooked to his naked body and tubes in his mouth and nose. Steve bangs on the glass. He can breathe and he can hear but he doesn’t know what the fuck is going on and he needs to get out of this thing.

“Whoa, whoa! Hey, it’s okay!”

Someone’s voice comes through the thick water and Steve turns that way. He doesn’t know this person but he recognizes him. The man who shot him. With someone. Not a bullet.

Now that Steve’s thinking a bit clearer, he thinks it may have been some type of taser.

“My name is Tony,” he says, pushing closer to Steve on a wheelie chair. “Tony Stark. You’re gonna be okay now.”

Too busy trying to figure out what’s happening and how he got here, Steve looks around at all he can see. It’s a lab, just like they said. They must’ve brought him back here. Brought him…back.

“I know, you’re probably confused, that’s normal,” Tony explains. “The process is a bit disorienting. Is this getting through? Can you nod or something, big guy?”

Tony, Steve realizes, is asking him a question. He’s actually talking to him. Not running and screaming, but talking. Steve can’t talk with the tubs in his mouth so he nods.

“Good, good. Here, I’m gonna pull up a virtual keyboard.” Whatever he does out there makes letters appear on the glass in front of Steve. “Can you type your name in?”

Steve might be achy but he’d also be fucking thrilled to do this. He lifts the arm he hasn’t controlled in so long and types his name.

S-T-E-V-E

R-O-G-E-R-S

When Steve sees his name displayed on the screen, he smiles. For so long, he couldn’t even be sure if that’s who he was and now he knows. He’s him. He’s Steve Rogers.

But Tony just blinks at the name a few times. His mouth opens not once, but twice before he finally answers.

“Steve Rogers?” He says that as if he’s familiar with it. “You…do you know a Bucky Barnes?”

Eyes going wide, Steve would gasp if he wasn’t breathing through a tube and underwater. This guy knows Bucky. He’ll be able to tell Steve if he’s okay. If he’s near. If he’s safe.

“I guess that’s a yes,” Tony mumbles. “Well…shit. He was right. You were too stubborn to die.” He snickers before pushing back over to the lab table he’d been at before Steve started banging on the tube. He picks up the phone and only dials one digit. “Hey, I need you two to bring Barnes down.”

Bring him down. That means Bucky’s here. Oh, god, please, please let this be real.

“Uh…let’s just say he’s been right this whole time,” Tony says. “He always said he was still out there.”

Tony continues with a brief conversation with whoever’s on the phone but Steve doesn’t pay any attention. All he cares about is the fact that Bucky is here. Bucky’s here and they’re bringing him to see Steve.

While he waits, Tony explains a bit of what’s happened and why Steve is in this thing. It’s a bit hard to follow along; not everything is entirely clear yet and Steve’s mind is still a little fuzzy.

Apparently, the weightless environment helps the Wanderers’ limbs to unlock. That, combined with the antibodies speeds up the recovery process. The recovery process that Bucky’s been helping with.

According to Tony, Bucky’s part of some vigilante group. A group that rallied together to go out and look for survivors. Killing Wanderers when they needed. When they could.

“It was your man who thought he saw something in one of them one day,” Tony says. “Saw…what could be. And instead of killing…”

They started bringing Wanderers back to the lab. To their base of operations. Found something of a cure.

“You’ll probably have to stay in there for another forty-eight hours or so and then go through a ton of physical therapy, but, based on our other subjects, you should make a--”

The door swings open, and without even pausing to check the room, Bucky comes running in and right up to the tube where Steve is.

“Steve!” There’re tears streaming down his face. “Oh, god, baby, I knew it. I knew you’d be alive. I did. I told you. I told you, you’d be okay. Oh, fuck, baby, I miss you so much. I love you. I love you, Steve.”

Steve still isn’t entirely sure if this is really happening. It feels real. Maybe not what he deserves but…if he’s allowed a few moments of peace, he’ll gladly accept it.

If it is real, well, they did it again. Somehow, against all odds, they found their way back to each other.

He smiles around the tubes in his mouth and traces a heart along the glass. Still crying, Bucky lets loose a wet laugh and traces a heart over it.

It’s the last thing Steve sees before his eyes close again.

He’s tired.

He’d very much like to sleep.

And maybe dream.

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kieraswriting · 5 years ago

Text

Showing Thomas

More Than The Sum Of Our Parts

Previous Next

Masterpost

“I’ll only agree on two conditions,” Virgil said. “I get to test the waters first, and if I say no, we don’t do it.”

“But, kiddo, it’s Thomas. It’s not like he’s going to be mad at us or anything.” Patton insisted.

Roman found himself agreeing with Virgil. Even though it had been his own idea in the first place, and even though Virgil was essentially taking the position of knight in shining armor for the rest of them, which normally Roman would have fought tooth and nail for, he was still nervous.

“I still don’t see why this is necessary,” Logan said. “It doesn’t benefit Thomas in any way, and we have no needs that would be met by showing him.”

“He wants to learn more about himself,” Deceit said tentatively, still unused to being allowed to join in the arguments.

“He does!” Patton said. “He wants to learn more about himself. This is something he doesn’t know about yet, except maybe he has a good guess about Deceit.”

“I think,” Roman said slowly. “That it opened us up to each other. It’s certainly dangerous, since we don’t know how he’ll react-“

Virgil smirked. “Careful, Princey, you’re sounding more like me every day.”

Roman continued, “but he does want to be open with himself, and this would be a way to do that.”

••^*^••

And that was why Virgil was hiding underneath the couch late at night. He was in his cat form, and by the sniffing above him, probably Thomas was having allergy issues.

He had suggested, insisted, on doing this, but he was currently unable to show himself, nearly paralyzed with fear. And without showing himself, Thomas wouldn’t know why he was having issues and he wouldn’t take the medicine. He had to come out. He had to. Even if just for Thomas.

Or maybe…

After several more minutes of anxious indecision, Virgil let out a tiny meow.

The couch creaked as Thomas got up. Soon his face was looking down on Virgil.

“I do not own a cat.” Thomas chuckled at the meme reference. “Hey, little guy, where did you come from?”

Virgil slowly walked forward.

Thomas cooed at him and scooped him up. “How did you even get in here?”

Virgil meowed again.

Thomas seemed happy, but of course he would be. He likes cats. The problem will be when Virgil reveals that it’s him.

“Come on this way,” Thomas said, although he was carrying Virgil. “I probably ought to take some allergy medicine, because you are going to stay here tonight at least. In the morning we’ll find out who you belong to and take you back.”

Thomas day down with his on the couch and kept watching his movie, alternating scratching and stroking. Virgil purred, determined to take every bit of comfort he could get before it was ruined. Thomas seemed pleased, which was good.

The episode ended and Thomas shut off the tv, seemingly intent on playing with Virgil. He dangled stray objects in front of his face, and Virgil pawed at them as if he really was just a cat.

“Oh! I bet Joan has a laser pointer!” Thomas suddenly burst out, reaching for his phone.

No! The whole point of this would be ruined if Joan came. Virgil knew he wouldn’t be able to scrape together enough to try again. Panic raced through him, and he must have let some get through to Thomas because his expression changed, he dropped the phone, and Virgil felt the summons even before Thomas said his name.

Virgil reverted to human form, still on the floor beside Thomas. Thomas jumped, but that was nothing compared to the shaking Virgil could just tell his body was doing.

“What’s—?” Thomas looked around. “What’s going on, Virgil? Wait, hey, breathe a minute.”

Virgil sucked in a trembling breath. He had no idea why this was hitting him so hard. Normally he could control himself better than this. He closed his eyes and followed the 4 7 8 breathing until he was a bit more in control.

“Alright,” Thomas put a hand on Virgil’s shoulder, and suddenly Virgil knew why it was so hard. It was the shock and difference from just a few seconds ago. He shouldn’t have let Thomas pet him.

“What’s the matter, Virgil?”

“Icanturnintoacat.” Virgil mumbled quickly.

“You can turn into a cat? The cat that’s been here this evening?”

Virgil was impressed that Thomas had understood him. He had barely been able to understand himself. He nodded, still not looking up.

“Well, it’s not too surprising, you all can shapeshift. Why are you so worried about it this time?”

“Because…” Virgil swallowed. His throat was suddenly so dry, and hurt. “We all have a… I guess it’s like a spirit animal? No, that’s not a good—“

“And yours is a cat?” Thomas guessed.

Virgil nodded.

“Then what is it you were scared of? I love cats.”

“We wanted to show you, but we were worried that you might be upset, or scared, or mad or something.”

“I’m not. I’m not entirely sure why you thought I would be.”

“Well, with Deceit, you never liked his scales, and we thought that it would extend to us too if we showed you.”

“It’s not, it’s not that I dislike Deceit’s scales. He gives off an entirely creepy appearance, like you used to.”

Virgil cringed slightly, and Thomas spoke again.

“I’m not mad, or upset. I’d be happy if you all would trust me enough to show me this, especially since it’s clearly a sensitive matter for you.”

Virgil looked up at Thomas, searching his eyes as if he could detect any lies.

“Thank you.”

Thomas pulled him into a hug.

••^*^••

“So do we, do anything different?” Roman asked.

“Nope!” Patton said cheerily. “I’ve explained it all to Thomas and we’re going to have Animal Day just like normal, and he’s going to be the designated human. Also, I think you should all go ahead and shift, then I’ll get him and bring him, and then I’ll shift after.”

Virgil nodded, and so did Logan. Deceit still looked sceptical, but Remus was as… animated as always.

••^*^••

Thomas blinked. Patton had just transformed into a dog, and was wagging his tail excitedly. Everyone else, though, was staring at him, the anticipation filling the air and making it hard to breathe. Though that might have been the anxiety talking. It was too much all at once. He couldn’t reassure all of them at once. He wanted to, though! He wanted it so much. It hurt a bit that they were so scared of what he might think.

He had to focus. Had to pick just one. Movement caught his eye. Deceit was rather pointedly not looking at him, but his tongue flickered in and out. Thomas knelt next to him and stretched out an arm. Deceit shifted quickly to face him, drawing up in a way that would be threatening in any other snake, but Thomas knew that Deceit would never bite him.

Deceit was not a large snake, but he wasn’t tiny. He was probably three or four feet long, and almost as thick as Thomas’s wrist at the thickest part. His scales were a bright yellow, verging on gold, with small black patterns here and there.

Deceit slid his head forward, and Thomas rubbed at the top of it. He wasn’t positive that snakes liked being petted, but Deceit wasn’t pulling away. He reached his hand down to lift up on one of Deceit’s coils. Deceit took the hint and slithered up his arm, settling himself on Thomas’s shoulders. He poked his head out just under Thomas’s chin. Thomas reached up and rubbed at the top of his head again. Deceit flickered his tongue out.

Thomas shifted from kneeling to sitting. He looked up to see what the others were doing. Logan and Virgil were still staring at him, not having moved much since he had arrived. Patton was off playing with the twins a little ways away.

“Logan,” Thomas said, kind of hating that he had to be the one to call Logan over. “Can I see your wings?”

“Of course,” Logan said, coming and sitting down with his back to Thomas.

The wings really were beautiful.

“Can I touch them?” Thomas asked.

Logan nodded.

As Thomas ran his fingers over the softest feathers he could even imagine, he could see Logan begin to relax.

“So what do you normally do during days like this?” Thomas asked.

“I am frequently the designated human, since I can fulfill all the requirements of the office while still having my wings out, but occasionally Remus wishes to play a hunting game, and I will join him.”

“Oh? What’s that like?”

“Mostly Remus will run away or try to attack one of the others, and I dive in to grab him from the air.”

“And you guys have fun like that?”

“It is… stimulating.”

Deceit let out a small hiss and bumped his head up into Thomas’s chin.

“Are you… lying?” Thomas asked, hesitantly, because he didn’t want to ruin the little bit of comfort he had managed to give.

Logan turned around. “No.” He frowned slightly. “Ah, I believe Deceit is trying to express affection.”

Thomas awwed, and Deceit hissed at Logan.

Virgil, who was in Logan’s lap, butted his head up into Logan’s palm, and Logan turned back to how he had been and resumed petting Virgil.

Soon after, Patton bounded over, clearly wanting Logan to do something with him. Once they left, Deceit slithered away to watch Remus. Virgil climbed into Thomas’s lap and seemed to fall asleep.

A small sound to the side of him drew Thomas’s attention. It was Roman. Thomas had been surprised at how easy it was to tell Roman and Remus apart, even though they were the same animal. Mostly because Remus consistently had matted, dirty fur, and looked as if he might well have rabies.

Thomas held out a hand to Roman. Roman put both of his hands on top of it. Thomas smiled. It was so cute! He wasn’t going to say it out loud, in case it embarrassed any of them, but honestly they were all so precious. Roman came closer, and let Thomas pet him.

Now Thomas had a lap full of fluff. And in the mindscape, Virgil didn’t even bother his allergies, so he had nothing to worry about. It was bliss.

Most of the sides shifted back to human form to eat lunch, and afterwards Thomas played more active games with Patton and Remus.

“So,” Thomas said, when the day was over, “I really enjoyed myself today, and I’m really happy that you all would share this with me. Can I come back next time?”

“No,” Logan said immediately.

Thomas’s face fell.

“You have a prior engagement that day,” Logan continued.

“We can move it!” Patton insisted, swatting at Logan’s arm. “Of course you’re invited back, Thomas.”

Thomas brightened, and looked to Roman.

Roman smiled and posed. “I’d be proud to have you back, Thomas.”

“Me too,” Virgil chimed in.

“You certainly aren’t welcome in your own mind,” Deceit said.

Remus of course said something that appalled everyone there, but the gist was that he’d be glad to have Thomas visit them more frequently.

#virgil sanders #roman sanders #character!thomas #logan sanders #patton sanders #deceit sanders #remus sanders #sympathetic deceit #sympathetic remus #platonic lamp #platonic drlamp #platonic thvi #more than the sum of our parts

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yonch · 6 years ago

Photo

wow he actually doesnt have orange hair :) oops first and foremost!! the design for unity is by @legendoflovely who has!! very good art!!! very cool!! i tried to imitate their style!!! but please check them out

ok and im gonna do more headcanons because :( yurei said my last ones were bad under the cut

link in general.. selective mutism and insomnia. dont like being locked up . Also they are all autistic because fuck you i’m autistic fuck whoever made that callout three years ago for a 15 year old. all the links are autistic because i said so and im allowed to say whatever the fuck i want and theyre all trans some of them are also poc because i said so. maybe all of them are evne the white passing ones theyre mixed becuaseu i said so

sky:

he chunky

he’s just a funny little dude i think. i think he has a great sense of humor

he has LIGHTNING SCARS from FIGHTING DEMISE.. and also lanayru because i was bad at fighting teknolbolings

he has asthma and narcolepsy

he likes how zelda smells (she smells like mist and clean linen)

he doesn’t like small, dark places (it reminds him of something he doesn’t know)

mini:

small(est) and angri(est)

probably has rabies because he is A Loony.. He is Insane... He is Mad!!!

he’s a blacksmith and takes over for his grandpappy after his adventure

doesnt like heights very much

doesnt shower very often and his hair feels like coarse ass dog hair

is scared of cats because he almost got Killed by one when he was Tiny

time:

really doesnt like the goddesses?? he’s got a shit load of trauma dude

the scar on his nose is from tripping on a rock and slamming his face into another one

got his eye mangled in a fight with some bandits :/

doesn’t like the sound of clocks ticking

but that doesn’t stop him from having a Spot On internal clock

can’t stop seeing red eyes and blue lights

twilight:

very good with kids and animals!!!

he’s socially anxious and his favorite way to stim is by petting his goats

color blind! specifically red green color blind

likes being scritched behind his ear and will thump his leg really hard on the ground (he starts doing this after he Transforms into Dog)

has a nice singing voice

he has sharp teeth!!!

unity:

designed!! by !! @legendoflovely

he’s never lonely!! always has friends

happier After his adventure than before

spirit of the hero said its my turn on the brain cell (he has one)

likes flowers a lot and has nice memories of picking them with zelda

likes warm drinks

windy:

is so adhd you wont Even believe

yawns and sneezes.. like kitty

H U G E big brother energy

he likes watching birds with his family

pirate life is the life for me (but no stealing bc thats bad :( )

he’s hydrophobic and can’t swim for long before having a panic attack

engie:

he grew up with trains!! so he knows a lot about them and he likes to info dump about them a lot

not having like. Specific Instructions makes him panic a little (catch me projecting)

he lives with grandma aryll and grandpa niko!! (they arent married!!!!!)

his eyes are hazel...

one of his ears... is crooked

he chipped his tooth by running away from bees and slamming into a train (this is based off something i did in game)

light:

has the most scars

LIKES.. BUNNIES..... SO MCH

apple farmer!! smells like appel all the time

the pink hair is from his mom!!

ptsd and depression

still wishes that koholint was real

paint:

nonbinary and masc aligned :)

has a lot of weird scars? look like paint splatters but you can’t rub them off

goes undercover in hytopia with the pseudonym of Finch! (his partners are jay and robin)

stops his apprenticeship to the blacksmith, considers beekeeping, eventually becomes a fashion icon

can’t stop trying to walk into walls

easily guilt tripped

fantasy:

heterochromia!! iridium!!

eats raw meat (doesn’t get a stomachache)

he has.. big bro vibe

his hat was a gift from his sister

completely mute!

self taught in swordplay

wild:

doesn’t like bright flashing lights

what if fuck ing what if he what if he just what if he just ate rocks what if he jus tstraight up ate rocks

still has spotty memory (he never gains back any other memories)

doesn’t remember things unless he touches them

has chronic pain

BEST CHEF IN HYRULE

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owxanimorphs · 5 years ago

Text

Animorphs Re-read 2020 the Visitor

Obsidianwolf X Re-Reads Animorphs 2020 Book Two: The Visitor

So Book two it's not as strong as the first one but it does have one of the most powerful illustrations of the effect of the Yerk Invasion on folks not involved in teh fight. The opening of this book has the kids being kids and since it is Rachel's first turn Narrating we get to see her view point for the first time.

I mentioned last time that they read like the type of friends only young kids form. The ones based on proximity and time spent together. I'm sure everyone has friendships like that in their past and it is very obvious here. Rachel talks a lot about the others in the beginning when they are playing around as birds but at the same time it reads more like a group held together by proximity instead of real friendship. The only one she talks about having things in common with is Jake. Everyone else she talks about just mentioning a few generic traits. It's an interesting question if they'd have remained friends without the sheer forged in fire banded together by the fight nature of what happened over the next few years.

She was already drifting away from Melissa because of being unaware of the stress in Melissa's life. Whose to say it wouldn't have eventually happened with Cassie as well. Speaking of Cassie this is an interesting book because her actions in the book are helpful and actually playing the peace maker she's often said to be with on real evidence. However, knowing what comes later and how she'll eventually come to think of Rachel it adds an edge of manipulation in how I read her words. She's quick to agree with Jake and Marco and then soothe Rachel's ego about the stunt with the creep.

Which let's talk about the creep following a teenage girl and trying to get her into the car. To the kids it's a fun sequence where Rachel scares off someone to an adult reading it well it's a lot more chilling since the odds are very good if he'd gotten her in the car she'd be in for a bad time and very possibly dead. Strategically it was stupid to spook the guy but it was understandable.

Speaking of strategy we get our first look at Jake's talent for seeing the big picture and Marco's strategic thinking. Marco is the one who sees how exactly reckless Rachel's actions where and Jakes has already figured out that Tom is expendable to the Yerks and realized they can't use Tom to spy on the Yerks.

Which now brings us to the adventures in cat catching. I get that this is meant to be a light moment in the book but it goes on a bit too long. Though it does show how out of touch Cassie is about things she keeps recommending her friends get a rabies shot which is a good idea but she seems completely out of touch at how difficult that would be for folks not living and working on a wildlife rehabilitation clinic. I mean they could take turns turning into an animal and biting each other to get the shots(by saying a stray bit them) but otherwise there would probably be questions and at least it would need parental permission if they showed up at the doctors asking for them.

This brings up a point completely unrelated to this book but Cassie's parents are by far the least involved of all the parents in their kids lives. In the previous book Cassie didn't come home to eat Dinner and her parents were really chill about that. Their twelve/thirteen year old kid didn't come home and a friend called looking them and no alarm bells. In some ways they almost seem more like plot devices to supply animals than actual people. Sure all the parents are out of focus but hers are even more so.

Anyway back to the get the cat sequence. The whole shrew bit is really just for flavoring about morphing and of course there's the mistake where Cassie says Rachel has more morphs than any of them when she only has the same amount as Jake. Of course screw ups like that are all over the series and are something you just have to deal with.

We then get one of the series lovely nightmare sequences culminating in a rather enlightening scene involving one of Rachel's siblings. This moment begins to show how the animorphs are drifting away from their families and gave a hint of how close Rachel was to her siblings before this. It does fit with how I see Rachel as someone who needed to be needed.

Then we get to school and see the beginnings of the reveal about Melissa's life with her breaking down just after Jake and Rachel bond over having nightmares after morphs that have gone wrong. Next we get a skip over a few days and then it's time for the mission. Rachel of course is warned not to get cocky with her natural confidence mixed with a cat's attitude.

The sequence in the basement is a very well done one tense but in a realistic way. The fact Visser Three several times admires cats of various sizes has always amused me. It is one of the most human for lack of a better word moments with him.

We follow that up with the first real show of how the Yerks under him hate his guts and the signs that he's completely and utterly incompetent. We also then get the absolutely heartbreaking moment where Rachel finally understands what has happened to Melissa. This moment is also telling because we see Rachel's sense of justice and how she's willing to do whatever it takes to end the threat. A moment that foreshadows the rest of her arc very well.

Of course next is the meeting where Marco is clearly in full deflector mode and we get the second time in the book when Cassie actually does what her defenders claim she does. This time doesn't have the manipulator vibes that the other scene does to me as this one feels far more natural. Or it does until she clues in that Rachel is hiding something and then definitely goes manipulative. It's one of those moments that again remind you of how things could have gone if Cassie wasn't a creator's pet that was never allowed to be wrong. Because Cassie would have been far more interesting if the series acknowledged her dark side.

So next we get the Jake as a flea and Rachel getting caught sequence all in all it's interesting but not really worth discussing. What is worth discussing is the moment with the Real Chapman and his wife fighting to keep their daughter from being infested. It is one of the few moments that truly brings home how horrible the yerks are and makes the track the books occasionally take about the yerks should be pitied really hard to take seriously. It is also why I absolutely hate the inclusion of Chapman in the Andalite chronicles as one of the ones at fault for the invasion but that's a rant for when I get to that book.

The ending action sequence is again pretty good but not stellar outside of the human Chapman getting to tell off Visser Three. Then after they escape we have the ending where Rachel leaves the note for Melissa. I some times think Melissa should have eventually become more involved in the plot but sadly she just drifts away which is it's own way is realistic.

Anyway I don't like The Visitor as much The Invasion but it's still over all a good book.

#animoprhs #animorphs 2020 reread #animorphs: the visitor #animorphs spoilers

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loretranscripts · 6 years ago

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Lore Episode 1: They Made a Tonic (Transcript) - 18th March 2015

tw: horror, bodily mutilation, blood, disease, death, vampires, pseudo-cannibalism

Disclaimer: This transcript is entirely non-profit and fan-made. All credit for this content goes to Aaron Mahnke, creator of Lore podcast. It is by a fan, for fans, and meant to make the content of the podcast more accessible to all. Also, there may be mistakes, despite rigorous re-reading on my part. Feel free to point them out, but please be nice!

Hollywood is… obsessed. Sure, we often think of obsessions like sex, violence, gigantic robots and of course, epic battles between good and evil. But another obsession of Hollywood is vampires. You have to admit though, that there’s a lot to love about vampires. Immortality, wealth, power, and superhuman abilities such as flight and strength. Yes, they come with trade-offs, such as incredibly bad sunburns, but every movie I’ve seen, and I’ve seen a lot, believe me, tends to show vampires that are fairly happy with their lot in life. My exposure to the world of vampires happened in the late 1990s, when I was in college. A friend of mine recommended the Anne Rice novel, Interview with a Vampire. I devoured that and many of the sequels. They’re fun reads! And they certainly set the tone for a decade or more of vampire-centred entertainment. I won’t touch on the vampires of the Twilight books, mostly because I haven’t read them. But I will say this: those books, however lambasted they have been by critics, have shown that popular culture’s love of all things vampire is as undying as the creatures themselves. I’m Aaron Mahnke, and this is Lore.

When most people think of vampires, they envision something that is a purely European creature: a foreign accent, Victorian Era dress, and dark manor homes and castles. It’s a common visual language for most of the western world, so I don’t blame bad movies and books for portraying that image, but it’s one small facet of a legend that has hundreds of expressions. The single most prominent historical figure attached to the modern notion of vampires is of course Vlad III of Wallachia, otherwise known as Vlad the Impaler. Vlad was the ruler of a small Eastern European kingdom known as Wallachia. He ruled from 1456 to 1462. He was known as Vlad the Impaler, because he preferred to execute his enemies by impaling them on stakes. The Ottomons called him “Lord Impaler” after entering his kingdom to find forests of impaled victims. Vlad was a violent guy, you see, rather bloodthirsty, you might say. Now he, like his father before him, belonged to something known as the Order of the Dragon, a group established to protect Christian Europe from the invading Ottoman army. Vlad’s father, Vlad II, was known as Vlad Dracul, which meant Vlad the Dragon, from the Order of the Dragon. When Vlad III rose to power he took the hereditary title and was known as Vlad Dracula, the son of the dragon. That name might sound very similar to the most famous vampire story in the world, and that’s because Bram Stoker, when creating his famous creature of the night, used Vlad III as his inspiration. Well, part of it, but we’ll get to that more later.

The roots of most vampire stories can be traced back to superstitions rooted in ancient cultures all across the world. Western Europe played host to countless stories of reanimated dead known as “revenants”. These were animated corpses which climbed out of the grave to torment the living. The word “revenant” comes from Latin, which means “to come back”. And come back to do what, you might ask? Well, I’m glad you did. At first it was just to terrorise the living, but as the centuries passed the legend became more specific. Revenants were said to return from the grave to torment their living relatives and neighbours. What was key though, was that revenants were specific people, not anonymous zombies of our modern horror genre. These things had a past, and a purpose. Now, in Norse Mythology, we can find stories of creatures known as draugr, “again-walkers”, who would return from the grave and wreak havoc on the living. These creatures possessed superhuman strength, they smelled of decay, and they were reported to be pretty ugly in appearance. They could enter the dreams of the living and while they were doing that, it was said that they left tangible objects near the sleeping victims, so that when they woke up, they would know that their dreams were more real than they feared.

Let’s go back earlier than the Middles Ages though. The legends of some ancient cultures spoke of creatures that, while not immediately similar to the vampires we know today, nonetheless share many core characteristics. First we have the Greek myth of Empusa, who was the daughter of Hekate. Empusa was said to lure young men, at night, and then feast on their blood, before moving on to the main course, their flesh. Another Greek tale involves Lamia, a mistress of Zeus, who becomes cursed by Zeus’ wife Hera, and is doomed to hunt children, devouring them. Stories of undead creatures, or creatures that feed on the blood of the living, seem nearly as common as written language itself. I mean, even on the small, isolated island of Madagascar, there are legends of a creature known as the Ramanga, which was known to attack nobles, drinking their blood and eating their nail clippings. Yeah, I said nail clippings. Deal with it.

Are vampires real? I’ll let you make the final decision on that, but what is clear, is that most of these stories find their genesis in the human need to explain the unexplainable. For instance, early Europeans used the myth as a way of explaining why a corpse wasn’t decomposing at the normal rate that they expected. You can see evidence of this in Bulgaria, where graves dating back over 800 years, have been opened, to reveal iron rods that have been driven through the chest of the skeletons. And in a time when it was very common to bury someone that was thought to be dead, only to find out that they weren’t really dead, you can imagine that stories would quickly circulate that the dead were coming back to life. As a result, Taphophobia, the fear of being buried alive, swept Europe and the United States. Now, of course, when medical science caught up, people got more practical. They built alert systems into graves, just in case the person woke up and, you know, wanted out. Now, I realise that being buried alive sounds like a rare occurrence, but it happened frequently enough that many people were sufficiently paranoid about it to actually spend time looking for a solution.

One of these people happened to be a medical doctor, a man named Adolf Gutsmuth. Now, in 1822, and driven by the fear of being buried alive, he invented a “safety coffin” for his own interment, and then he tested it out himself. Tested it out? You bet! Doctor Gutsmuth allowed himself to be buried underground in his new “safety coffin” for several hours, during which he had meals delivered to him through a feeding tube. He enjoyed a wonderful meal of soup, sausages, and a lovely local beer. Sounds like a great date night destination, doesn’t it? Now, Doctor Timothy Smith of New Haven, Vermont, was another paranoid inventor. He created a grave that can be visited still to this day, if you happen to be passing by Evergreen Cemetery, in Vermont. It was a crypt, buried in the usual manner, but it had a cement tube positioned over the face of the body, and a glass plate was affixed to the top of the tube at ground level. Doctor Smith died a real, natural death, and was buried in his fancy coffin with a view. He never woke up, but early visitors to his grave reported that they had a clear view of his decomposing head, until condensation obscured the glass decades later. Side note: vampires no longer scare me. Waking up inside of a small box buried six feet under the surface of the earth is what true fright looks like to me.

Now, another culprit in humanity’s use of the vampire label, was porphyria. It was a rare blood disorder, but modern science has pretty much closed the case on that one, saying that it’s too far of a stretch to connect the two topics. Rabies, of all conditions, has also been used as an explanation for the rise of the vampire mythology. Surprisingly there are a lot of commonalities between them, such as a sensitivity to light and garlic, as well as altered sleep patterns. But the most recent medical condition with a strong connection to vampire mythology was actually Tuberculosis. Those who suffer from TB had no vampire-like symptoms though, and that’s what makes this one a harder connection to explain. It’s also, incidentally, where one of my favourite New England legends comes into the picture. Ladies and Gentlemen, meet Mercy Brown.

Lena Mercy Brown was a young woman who lived in the latter half of the 19thcentury, in the rural town of Exeter, Rhode Island, and she was a major player in what is now known as the “Great New England Vampire Panic”. Stories like hers can be found repeated all across Rhode Island, Massachusetts, New Hampshire, and Vermont, echoed in the lives of others in similar situations. And the results have surprising connections to both the modern idea of vampires, as well as the ancient stories, as we will see. The first person to die in Exeter was Mercy’s mother, Mary Eliza. That was December of 1882, and she fell victim to what was then called “consumption”. Consumption, because, as the disease of Tuberculosis ravaged the body, the person would appear to waste away; consumed, if you will, by the illness. She, of course, was buried, because, well, that’s what you do with a loved one who passes away. The next year though, Mercy’s sister Mary Olive died, at the young age of 20. Same illness, same symptoms, same process. I’m not sure when exactly the people of Exeter, Rhode Island started to wonder if the deaths were connected , but it might have been then, or it might have been a few years later when Mercy’ brother Edwin took ill. Edwin, though, was smart. He packed up and moved across the country to Colorado Springs, which had a great reputation for the healing properties of its dry climate. When he finally returned from the resorts out west, some years later, he was alive, but not doing so well, and in December of 1891, he took a turn for the worst. That was the month that Mercy herself became ill. Her Tuberculosis moved fast. They called it the galloping kind, and it moved through her body quickly, like wildfire. By January, 1892, she was dead, and the people of Exeter were more worried than ever. You see, they suspected something… supernatural.

Now, this was surprising, considering how close Exeter is to Newport. That’s the seaside city known for the summer cottages of the wealthy, folks like the Vanderbilts, the Asters, the Wideners, the Wetmores. It was the pinnacle of educated society, yet just a handful of miles away, one small town that should have known better, was about to do something very, very creepy.

Edwin was still alive, you see, and someone got it in their mind that one of the women who died before him, either his mother or one of his sisters, was somehow draining him of his life from beyond the grave. They were so convinced of this, you see, that they wanted to dig them all up. Yes, all of them. Once they received the father’s permission to do this horrible thing, a group of men gathered in the cemetery on the morning of March 17th, and began to dig up the bodies. Now, what they were looking for was any evidence at all of an unnatural state. So, blood in the heart, blood around the mouth, or other similar signs. The first body, of Mary Eliza, the mother, was satisfactorily decomposed so they ruled her out. But of course she was, you might say, I mean, she had been dead and buried for a decade. Mary Olive was also in a normal state of decomposition. Again, being dead for ten years usually helps convince people that you’re really dead. But when they examined Mercy’s body, a body that had not been buried because she died in the middle of winter, and so had been put inside of a stone building inside the cemetery that was essentially a walk-in freezer, they discovered a remarkable state of preservation. Shocking, I know. So what did they do? Well, these superstitious folk did what they learnt from their ancestors. They cut out Mercy’s heart and liver, within which they found red, clotted blood, they burned them on a nearby stone, which, by the way, is still there if you ever visit the cemetery, and then, mixed the ashes with a tonic. That tonic was then given to Edwin, to drink. Yeah, Edwin drank his own sister’s liver and heart. Did it work? No, of course it didn’t work. Edwin died less than two months later. What it did do, however, was set up Mercy Brown to be known as the first American vampire.

As unusual as an event like this must sound, you might be surprised to learn that it happened quite frequently. In 1817, almost a century before Mercy Brown’s exhumation, a Dartmouth college student named Frederick Ransom died of Tuberculosis. His father was so worried that the young man would leave the grave and attack the family, that he asked that he be dug up. Ransom’s heart was cut out, and burnt on a blacksmith’s forge. Even Henry David Thoreau heard tales of these types of events, and he mentioned one in his personal journal. In September 26th, 1859, he wrote: “The savage in man is never quite eradicated. I have just read of a family in Vermont who, several of its members having died of consumption, just burnt the lungs, heart and liver of the last deceased, in order to prevent any more from having it.” So of course, word spread about what happened to Mercy Brown, as it usually did when a body was dug up and carved into to pieces like that. Mercy’s case, though, actually made it into a newspaper called The New York World, and it made quite an impression on the people who read it. How do we know? Because a clipping from that article was found in the personal papers of a London stage manager after his death. You see, his theatre company had been touring America in 1892. He evidently read the story, found it inspiring, and saved it. Inspiring so much so, that he sat down a few years later, and wrote a book. Who was this man? His name was Bram Stoker. And the book? Oh, I’m sure you’ve already guessed it by now. It was Dracula, published in 1897.

Lore was produced by me, Aaron Mahnke. You can find a transcript of the show, as well as a bibliography of the source material, at our website, lorepodcast.com. If you enjoy scary stories, I happen to write them. You can find a full list of my supernatural thrillers, available in both paperback and ebook formats, at aaronmahnke.com/novels. Thanks for listening.

Transcriber’s Notes:

(These notes a purely from me, the transcriber, and have nothing to do with the official podcast or Aaron Mahnke).

1) The word draugr does not in fact mean “after-walker” as the podcast seems to state, and actually derives from a Proto-Indo European word meaning “deceive”. There is, however, a related term aptrgangr, which does mean “again-walker”, and is thought to be pretty much synonymous with draugr.

#lore podcast #podcasts #aaron mahnke #vampires #Interview With A Vampire #dracula #mercy brown #new england #taphophobia #folklore #1 #transcripts

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ceilingfanstories · 4 years ago

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Why am I getting so irrationally angry? Virtually everything she says or does makes me want to burst into flames. And I don’t know why, but this has only been the case since I got my cat.

So I got the cat, and everything is fine for the first night. She even asks me to teach her how to pick him up. And she does pick him up a couple of times. She plays with him and it’s all normal. Then day 2 her mom puts this idea in her head that the cat probably has rabies. WHY WOULD HE HAVE RABIES? He doesn’t act rabid and he has been to the vet three times. If he had rabies it would be known and treated. A week later I took him to the vet (a week of panicking about rabies) and they told me that he’s too young for the rabies vaccine. Since then there hasn’t been a single word about rabies.

It’s been two weeks now since I got him and I’m so frustrated about how she interacts with him. Like, she won’t touch him or discipline him at all. If he gets on the table while she’s eating, she just makes some kind of “whoa” noise and picks her plate up and stands back from the table. Is she waiting for him to get down on his own? I told her she needs to tell him “no” and remove him from the table. She won’t do it. I discovered that he doesn’t like it if you blow in his face, and will step back from your plate of food. I thought that was a perfect way for her to get him to go away since it’s hands free, but she won’t blow hard enough to get him to go away. But you don’t even have to blow hard, so she must be barely blowing.

But I’m super worried that he’s going to ruin something or escape out of the door when I’m not there because she won’t touch him. There was one time where he was getting into the trash and I said “hey, you need to get him out of there” and she basically just waved a spoon at him, which was the same as doing nothing. So I had to drop what I was doing and go get him. Another time I heard her coming in through the front door, and I saw him run to the door, so I yelled “he’s coming toward the door!” so she wouldn’t let him out. She let him out anyway. I had to drop what I was doing at run so that he wouldn’t get too far away. Luckily I caught him. I was scared that he would just run away.

She also won’t let him into her room. So naturally, that’s a place he’s super curious about. Every time he hears her open her bedroom door he darts over there. She asks me to hold him so that she can step out of her room. The first couple of times I did hold him, but I stopped doing that because it’s kind of ridiculous that she won’t even open the door if he’s not restrained.

I keep trying to give her tips and help her out since she’s uncomfortable with touching the cat apparently, but ultimately this is her own problem, right? If she has to resort to eating dinner standing up because the cat is on the table, then why is that my problem? Blowing on his face works for me to keep him away from my food, so why should it be my problem if she can’t blow hard enough? She’ll eventually learn if she wants to live comfortably.

But what gets me is that we were going to get a cat together two years ago. She wanted to get a cat. Did she not realize the reality of having a cat? If we went through with it two years ago, would she have reacted the same way? You could say maybe she’s never had a cat before so she didn’t know how it would be. But I have also never had a cat before and I’m doing just fine. At certain moments, she reacts like she’s afraid of animals. I know she’s not, but she sure does act like it sometimes. I’m glad we didn’t get a cat two years ago because we would be sharing the cat. This cat is all mine.

She honestly strikes me as the kind of person who would just get an animal for the novelty of having an animal. I think she would be a terrible pet owner. Too scared to discipline the pet or train it.

What prompted me to make this post was when I showed her a glass jar full of marbles and told her how cats don’t like the noise of shaking it. I shook it (cat had no reaction) and she plugged her ears. For some reason that cannot be explained, I get irrationally pissed off when people plug their ears when there’s a loud noise. I have no explanation for why I feel that way. But when I put the jar down, she said “cats don’t like that noise? I also don’t like that noise.” I didn’t respond. I just went to my room to write this.

There’s so much me and her don’t agree on, but usually it’s no big deal. For some reason, though, since I got the cat, we have not agreed on one single thing. I think since the way she was reacting to the cat was pissing me off, every single other thing she does had the same effect. Like she would turn on the heater while I has at work and I would come back to the place being like a sauna. I would be sweating in my own apartment. And she keeps turning it on. I can’t sleep when it’s hot. I’m at work all day. At least during the hours I’m here please let me have a normal temperature.

Another thing she did that made me irrationally angry is when we got into a discussion about using plastic/paper plates and cups. For some reason she’s super into disposable kitchen supplies like that. She uses paper towels to dry her hands/dishes instead of the fabric towels we have hanging below the sink. She uses plastic straws in her drinks even though we have metal ones. She exclusively drinks from and cooks with water bottles even though we have a water filter. She eats off of paper plates even though we have real plates. I told her just use the stuff we have. We have machines to do the cleaning. She says it’s easier to use disposable dishes. The discussion started when she told me she wants to get plastic cups next time we go to the grocery store. That made me irrationally angry. I don’t know why. I mean, she’s the one buying the cups. It doesn’t concern me. Maybe it’s just frustrating to me what she chooses to spend her money on. She has no shortage of money, so why not waste it on something we already have. I would rather use the reusable items so that I don’t have to keep buying more.

Anyway. I think I’m done with my rant.

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myrish-lace-love · 7 years ago

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Jonsa S7 Summer Challenge Day 7: Author’s Choice

Summary: Jon and Sansa are both lawyers at the same large law firm in Chicago. They worked together on a trial, and grew closer. They live together now, but don’t see each other as often as they used to. You can read about their trial and relationship here on AO3. Today, they’ve learned they’re going to be working as a team on a new, unusual case involving direwolves.

Written for @jonsa-creatives Jonsa S7 Summer Challenge Day 7.

A/N: I’m hoping this will be the start of another longer entry in the Law of Attraction series on AO3. We’ll see where it goes! :)

***

Jon had a smile on his face when Sansa came into the kitchen after her shower. He was sitting at the table, his coffee mug forgotten, looking at his laptop.

“What on earth are you grinning for, Jon Snow, before you’ve even had your coffee?”

Jon just gestured to his screen. “Email’s for both of us. Take a look.”

Sansa let out a small squeal. “A new pro bono case – and we’ll be on it together!”

Jon drew her down for a long kiss. “Late nights and diet Coke it is.”

An earlier case at the law firm where they worked – Tyrell & Tyrell – had brought then closer together, and they’d fallen for each other during the long hours they spent with one another during the trial. They’d been together for nine months, and gotten their own apartment three months ago. Still, they worked in different departments at the firm. Sometimes Sansa was frustrated at how little she saw of Jon now that their trial was over.

And here it was - another case. Another chance to work alongside Jon day and night. Sansa was so pleased, so lost in Jon’s embrace, she didn’t even take the time to read what the case was about.

***

She found out later that morning. Jon had booked a conference room so they could talk through the issues.

Sansa was having a hard time accepting what Jon had just told her.

“A what?”

“Landlord-tenant dispute about a dog.”

Sansa crossed her arms. “There must be more.”

Jon’s lips twitched. “There is. A young woman suffering from blindness brought her service seeing eye dog to her apartment without telling the landlord.”

“And?”

“No pets in the apartment without prior consent.”

The marble lobby was crowded this morning, and Sansa saw Margaery, dressed in a stunning Armani suit, usher a group of bankers into the prime conference room. The room was flanked with leather chairs and offered floor-to-ceiling windows that gave a commanding view of the city skyline.

“The dog’s been checked for fleas and rabies, so the landlord can’t complain about that.” Jon was deep into the details already. She loved that about him. It was also incredibly frustrating.

“Fleas? Rabies? A tenant and a dog? And that’s a Tyrell case how? We don’t do dogs, Jon. We do multi-million dollar mergers and trade secrets battles for Microsoft.”

“Our other case was about homeless people. And that wasn’t worth it?” Jon said softly.