#communicating my feelings? sorry it was a bit abrupt but bitch you are not in love with me u dont know me. UGH! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nightswithkookmin · 4 years

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How do you think JK and JM have grown and changed this year? I was worried about the more professional Jikook recently, but the way they are now seems healthier- like there is balance and more peace in their bond. They are compromising and addressing each other’s needs (JM demonstrating his love for JK and flirting less; JK holding back for the sake of the group and JM's sanity). They seem happy. Plus, it’s nice to see the group members helping them be professional- especially Tae.

Absolutely! They are making compromises...

I was meant to work on a 'Jikook in 2020 Review' blog post at the end of the year but I got my nails done and I couldn't type shit with it. Lol. Should have stuck with my usual average length basic bitch nails but no, I had to go and be a baddie- edgy people. Sigh.

It's something I do in my Journal at the end of every year since 2014 where I summarize everything that's gone down with Jikook and my other ships in that year to help me keep track of their love journey and especially the timelines- yea, I take my delulu business seriously. I'm not ashamed. Lol.

I think the most outstanding and conspicuous growth development in Jikook's dynamics, to me, is their individual functioning and positive adaptive response to the changes that happened in and around their relationship in 2020- from Covid 19 to the monitored VLives and the whole professional outlook, cough cough.

While not surprising to me, because they had been on that trajectory since the later half of 2019 and had exhibited early signs of being capable of adjusting well, almost adjusting well lol, to any internal changes that could occur in their relationship dynamics, I sort of worried about them being thrown in at the deep end in the face of the abrupt and disruptive changes 2020 presented because of Covid 19.

Jikook since 2015 to me, have always exhibited codependent tendencies as well as a certain level of dysfunctionality in their dynamics with one or both of them enabling certain toxicities in the other.

I think that is the major thing that changed in 2020 in my opinion and I don't know if their personal growth journey contributed to it or the virus did, or that it's just we didn't get to see them interact in the usual settings that brings out all the lunacy in them. Lol.

Jimin for example had a habit of enabling JK's possessiveness and childish grunts and would reassure him whenever JK threw tantrums over anyone smiling funny at him. I mean reassuring your partner of your love and interest in him is good and ideal but not when your partner lowkey is unreasonable in his demands sometimes, chilee JK- what goes on. Lol.

Especially not when that same partner has no qualms doing shit like this:

But with JM I feel it goes deeper than that. I think I have mentioned in passing a few times now how I feel/felt JM was the noncommittal one in their dynamic and part of the reason I had that view was because Jimin to me had always conveyed an impression of JK that he is/was a bit childish and immature and that I think had always hindered him from fully investing in their dynamic in a way that makes JK secure.

But that too has changed especially towards the end of 2020.

I mean JM is very wise beyond his age, mature beyond his age as everyone around him keep saying. Contrastingly, they say the very opposite of Kook and they treat him as such, which is gotta be worrying for JM, I feel.

I've always been fascinated by JM's choice of words and descriptors for people- well not just JM's, all the members' quite frankly. Lol. He sees, for instance, Tae as innocent and naive, Joonie as thoughtful and JK as not good at expressing himself and his emotions.

These words are not just his assessment of their personalities, they are also testament to how he treats them or is likely to treat them- We treat people the way we see and perceive them.

If he sees JK as incapable of expressing his true intentions, he stands the risk of projecting his own intentions onto him and this is very dangerous. He could be reading more into situations, misunderstanding and misconstruing JK's intentions.

For example, he may he interpreting JK feeling uncomfortable with him being around others as a sign JK wants him for himself and as such use that to reassure himself whenever he is feeling vulnerable and insecure in their dynamic but in reality JK could just be expressing discomfort with watching two men interact intimately- JM would never know unless JK explicitly conveyed to him that seeing him with others worry him because he wants Jimin too. Know what I mean?

Similarly, if he perceives JK as immature and childish, no matter how accurate that may be, he risks developing an inclination to be dismissive of JK's needs- especially if JK really sucks at articulating his needs or asserting himself in their dynamics.

Seeing JM interact with others in a certain way may genuinely be his limits, but how is he gonna communicate that to Jimin beyound grunts and pouts if he sucks at expressing himself and if JM dismisses these grunts and tantrums he throws as childishness?

That's what I mean when I say there is a certain degree of dysfunctionality to Jikook's dynamics. But that too have changed or is changing- can't be sure till I see how they progress and interact in the future.

As I kept saying, Jikook had been asserting themselves against eachother in 2020 and JK was the embodiment of that.

But JK...

He has always given me the impression he's willing to do whatever it takes to prove himself as not only worthy of JM's love but also solidify himself as JM's equal in their dynamics, having been subjected to years of baby syndrome being the youngest within the group and having everyone treat him as such.

And so I have mixed feelings about this seemly 'progress' in him...

Not sure if he is doing it for himself or for his relationship and God I hope it is for himself because as much as I enjoy the crazy aspect of their relationship, I hate it too.

I mean it's entertaining to watch sometimes but Jimlous and Jeonlous do make me sick in my stomachs- yea, I have four at this point. Fucking Christmas chicken. Lol.

Not to say JM isn't as invested in or committed to JK as JK is to him. Just saying there's always been something holding him back in their dynamics for whatever reason, in my opinion, and Jk it seems have always had the impression he can 'win' if he tries. So he is constantly pushing the boundaries and testing the limits- and that I feel is his yoke.

I used to look at him and felt sorry for him because he was young and he was being pushed to grow so fast but I also understand Jimin because he is much older than his boyfriend and he wouldn't want to be unequally yoked to him, as the saying goes- especially if he equally has to relinquish control to him and have him lead him as his lover and partner.

I feel a lot of Jokers get confused about who is dom and all that jazz, partly because JM is not ceding to JK the way JK relinquishes control to JM in their dynamics and is holding back a lot- that's what I mean when I say he is not fully into their relationship.

Jimin holds a lot of power in their dynamics and a lot of people see that and describe him as top, dom, power bottom and whole other sobriquets but I don't think any of those descriptors is apt.

Because as much as he holds a lot of power in their dynamics, he is in the same breath powerless and at the mercy of JK as JK is to him. The one with the power to me is the one that can walk away and It's neither JK nor Jimin.

As assertive as JK has been all year, he will cave if it meant JM was to walk away. And as demanding as JM has been of JK's maturity, he will settle if it meant JK was to walk away.

Jimin to me is a paradox. He pushes JK to be 'mature' and be on the same page as him yet he equally enables the bad behavior in JK too- well he used to. He's changed since late 2019 and hasn't been tolerant of JK's possessive behavior- which I think I've talked about a lot on here.

It certainly doesn't help that JM has this view of 'JK is just bad at expressing his emotions.' With that kind of mentality, he is more likely to let JK get away with a lot of things without pushing him to be better and that in itself is a form of enabling.

As the youngest within the group, he already stand the risk of being enabled within the group dynamics as his bad behavior is always going to be excused and dismissed as stemming from his age.

You often hear RM and the members talk about how he is the youngest, he is going through a teenage rebellious phase, let's give him a pass because he is the youngest, he doesn't speak much so we value the least he says, he doesn't return his texts, doesn't wish anyone a happy birthday on their birthday's but we will for him anyway, chilee. There is too much enabling going on in there.

As harmless as these rhetorics may be, they impact his attraction quotient and may make him less appealing to anyone within the group who may find him attractive in a sexual way psychologically speaking and sometimes I see that impacting Jimin. People want to date up not down.

Take when Hobi talked about JK peeping tom for example, Jimin didn't seem at all happy about it. I don't think he was jealous in that moment necessarily, more like he was disappointed and hurt.

JK has been doomed from the start as the baby of the group- I mean I've seen the men JM finds attractive... I don't think a 'baby' is what he wants.

Jk have always been on a mission to shed these descriptors off of him and assert himself within the group, for himself and for his relationship- as he should.

But 2020 has been the height of his self assertive journey and progress in my opinion. In Break the silence, the members talked about how JK has become more self aware particularly this year, and JK himself has spoken about and acknowledged his immaturity in the past and how he is working to improve himself on that.

He has grown a lot this year.

You may not see the impact of this because it's an intangible change but you look at how he interacts with the others, the boundaries he's putting in place etc

JM post October have been treating JK with a certain level of respect and dignity, almost as if he is seeing JK as a new man- his equal. This will make sense in the future, don't worry.

During the Christmas holiday performance, it seemed the directors had whispered something in JM's ear to give them a moment- listen, BigHit ain't slick ok? Whenever you see them isolate Jikook from the group bet your sweet behind they are looking for a moment from Jikook and are going over BTS's head, chilee. They ain't slick.

They did the same thing in the dynamite MV when they put Jikook away from the group and had them turn it on- I mean RM wasn't too happy about it it seemed and when he asked Jimin about it, Jimin said the director had asked him to.

I bet you two fake dollars, they intentionally put Jikook away from the group in that performance and honestly I don't think they gave JK a heads up about it either. You could see Jimin literally scanning JK's body to prepare himself and put himself in the mood which had JK looking at him all confused like what is this man doing. Lmho.

Then he playfully taps JK's chest like it's the firt time he is paired with his man and JK looks at him like uhmmmm. Jimin then goes to wrap his hands around JK's shoulder and JK exec crashed. lol.

I don't think JK expected that from Jimin and his gay panic was real- personally, I think he popped a boner down there and when Jimin tilted the camera angle down to that region dude made a 360 turning his back to the camera. Lol.

He was literally hiding it behind Jin and when you look at NamJin's cam that's when you see what I mean.

Chilee, JK how are you gone hide a boner a man gave you behind another mind- make it make sense. Lmho. Are they both not men? You are 24, if Jimin still has this effect on you I'm sorry there's no hope for you. The gay is deep my guy, bid your family farewell and move to Itaewon. Lol.

All jokes and delulu aside, there was a certain level of respect even in the way that Jimin carried out their fanservice in that moment.

Maybe we are finally going to see Park Jimin relinquish that power he's been holding back from Kook as the hyung and mature one and allow JK lead him, make decisions for him and trust that he would make the right ones.

I don't think, going forward JM would be 'dismissing' JK's discomfort with him doing certain things as JK being 'childish' anymore, lol. I'm talking about the 'babe it's nothing' laughing his butt off when JK is pissed at him for doing certain things etc.

It's also interesting to note that 2020, in my opinion, recorded the most 'breakup songs' shared and recommended by JK on his spotify playlist- I wonder why. Smirk.

By break up songs i mean most if not all the songs he shared last year had a theme of separation, breakup, etc, with one particular song standing out to me: Mean it by Lauv.

This song and the others are pretty much consistent with his own song lyrics of 2020, Still with you and Stay which I believe are a two voiced piece of the same art work or subject matter, a response poem if you will: one being a confession of JK's feelings and intentions while the other, Stay, is the reconciliation, a request and plea to his love interest and declaration of his needs or what he wants from Jimin.

Stay answers Still with you. In my opinion.

And on the subject of Still with you, am I the only one who thinks 'With You' is one of Jimin's handles and JK using that in a song is no coincidence?

I mean Tae literally gave Jimin that name in Run 106- Listen, I don't trust JK and if he appropriates it again ISTG!

He's come a long way from, 'I'm not gonna say any cliche as that have courage' in Magic Shop to practically groveling. Lol. Love will do that to you.

What stands out about Mean it, is that whole 'don't play with my feelings if you don't want me' theme. I think this is something I kept saying was a vibe I was getting from JK throughout 2020 when I said I talked about their breakup and said I felt he was since that incident putting his foot down, demanding his needs and putting his happiness right back up there with Jimin's.

I smiled when I heard him talk about him thinking a lot about what happiness means to him throughout 2020 and pursuing that.

As for the professionalism, let's see if they are going to maintain it throughout this year because it is not coming from them but from the environment they are in.

I think what they have to do is know when they are going to be themselves and when they have to be professional- Jikook y'all are queer, reading the room should be an acquired skill dumbass! Someone send them the memo. Lmho.

One other thing that has changed about Jikook would be how they are gradually disconnecting from their fanbase especially JK.

Now this may be due to a lot of reasons: BigHit limiting their access to their fanbase, BTS having a problem with Jikook's brand clashing with theirs and demanding they 'act professionally,' Jikook no longer having a need of the support of their fanbase and a plethora of reasons I cannot get into sake of time and space.

One thing that I am gauging this year is how Jikook will be interacting with their fanbase and how much of their relationship they will willingly share with us.

They need our support as much as we need them and if our support matters to them in advancing their relationship out of the closet then they will find a way to reconnect with us- always.

I mean, he said stay- I'm staying. Lol.

I guess what I'm saying is, for now, the change in Jikook is intangible and individualized but serves as a foundation to whatever direction they decide to move in next.

I am curious to know how these individuals growth and development is going to play out in their dynamics as a unit.

I want to see what they do on May 13th this year, who posts the first Jikook selca of 2021. JK didn't post for the members's birthday again and so I'm curious to see how JM's birthday is gonna go.

The members had surprise parties except Jimin- I'm still salty about that, they filmed Vlives on their birthdays- again except Jimin who had to belate that shit.

I'm taking notes of how they are gonna use the VApp this year especially JK. He still wasn't allowed to solo VLive on the app- I'm taking notes. Lol. Bone collector LLC. Lmho.

2020 was that year, the year Jikook went to couples counseling figuratively- in my books me. Lol.

They went from spending time apart, pursuing other hobbies, JK took to reading, Jimin took to spending quality time with friends and family and realized what is gold to him.

They each have come to terms with their shortcomings- something some of us recieved a lot of backlash over for talking openly about. Chilee.

Jimin have acknowledged he over expresses himself and needs to "love less' and JK have acknowledged his immaturity and is taking steps to work on it.

They both have taken a step from social media, which honestly I don't think is a bad thing especially if SM impacts their overall well being negatively.

I actually won't be surprised if they've been seeing a psychologist but anywho-

I hope this answers your question? Lol. I don't know. This post is more for me than y'all, I feel. So sorry about that.

Happy New Year to 'Y'all who love me.' I love y'all too so much. Bless y'all.

Let's keep supporting Jikook. Jikook is real.

Signed,

GOLDY

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deanirae · 4 years

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Can you get it inside your head I’m tired of dancing?

post 8.07 pre 8.08] crack/angst past turned unrequited deancas, implied deanbenny 2,4k [x]

The sun, also currently known as bitch, has got some serious nerve to sit where it always does, not upside down and nine miles to the left as it frankly should on this memorable fuckhat day. Where is the End of Days when it's really called for? When it should be really nigh?

Dean flips the front mirror panel down not to have to deal with at least that one disappointment. He can still see Cas's half-constipated, half-abandoned and kicked in its fluffy ass puppy face in the mercilessly annoying reflection. The obvious choice would be to not grace it with anything right now, but A – he's the one driving so his eyes can't wander off pretty far, especially in the barely sunlit grayness – and B – on his left, Sam is currently roleplaying a twelve year old girl that has her big emotional introspection accompanied by listening to Sarah McLahlan because her mean parents wouldn't let her buy ebola from the internet. Or something.

Point is, he's three hours into ostentatiously moping, trying to quietly terrorize Dean into making peace with Cas on the fly so it won't be awkward and problematique for him anymore. To Sam, Dean is just too inconvenient anytime he's inconvenient. And that, by order of nature herself, demands immediate and final stopping and ballot recounting also.

And Dean's point is, that it's not gonna happen anytime soon.

And Cas's point – assuming he’s still remotely capable of making those – seems to be dead-set on that 50:50 face thing. And Dean regrets briefly glancing; with more or less the same intensity he regrets his whole life on the crap weather days his bones hurt harder than it should be legal.

Sam, in his hemhorroidal disturbance, reaches out to the tape deck and attempts to put anything on, but Dean feels like exactly zero of his tapes right now, so he swats Sam's hand off with a loud smack. Judging from the faces he gets for that, it's gotta be resonating in their heads a lot.

It's gonna be a long ride to Lousiana, way longer and more exhausting than the freshly puked from Purgatory one. In fact, the closer they get to Lafayette, the more tired he is and they won't start working the vetalas case until tomorrow night because apparently hanging around clubs on fridays is the new hanging downside of trees or whatever cool thing it was vetalas were doing before the rise of the all you can eat buffet of horny dicks certain they're gonna get reverse cowgirls for a two dollar drink. Or reverse cowboys. Fucking cheapskates. Some of them do have it coming. But in severe STDs, not in this.

In itself, waiting for the actual hunt really doesn't need to be a problem. It's just that Sam and Cas are fucked-bent on having it be one because—

“I said I'm going to stay with you and join you on hunts,” Cas finally snaps. „There's no need for this 'backup' as you call it, Dean.”

—Because that.

“Don't air quote it, man,” Dean mutters wearily, because of course Cas air quoted it.

“And there is absolutely no need for you to sleep in a vampire's camping truck when we have plenty of motels to pick from,” Cas rants on, zero deterred and plus ten determined, clearly not tuning into Dean's I don't wanna discuss that vibe.

Annnd because that too, yeah.

“Well I donno, I sure didn't want us to look like some sort of a hookup site for salvation army fashionistas threesome. You'll thank me later. Or you can do it now and shut up when you're done, how's that.”

“A vampire,” Sam interrupts his polished bitchface just to whine it out, which has to be peak brotherly care by his modern standards.

“You two asshats had no problem leaving me in vamp-vegas for a goddamn year,” Dean growls. “I am an adult adult and I need some me-time that isn't you time. And I'm gonna have awesome time while I'm at it. Sue me if that's a crime. Bother my lawyer.”

“You don’t have a lawyer”, says Sam.

“Aren’t you kind of a lawyer?” Dean remembers suddenly. “Or at least close enough for you two to bother each other and not me?”

“No, didn’t get to get there yet, thanks to you,” Sam mutters, also suddenly remembering the past life of his that was never meant to be.

“Oh, I’m sorry”, Dean whines. “Did I set your girlfriend on fire?”

“Fuck off.”

“I thought you missed me,” as if triggered by the word fuck, Cas drops the bomb with an evenness in his voice which hints at many things but Dean's brain is too stop-record screech to dissect them right now.

“What?” he blurts out, confused and affronted both.

“I thought you missed me,” Cas repeats, lower and harder like Dean's a stupid cat that won't spit out what it's chewing.

“Cas, I really don't wanna do this.”

“You kept praying to me to come back, Dean. After you were out of Purgatory. I heard you. Those were quite some prayers. Now you're putting yourself in real danger just to stay away from me. I don’t understand.”

Sam just stares at Dean, the always most helpful thing on the planet that he is. Thanks, Sam. Dean stares at the road. Cas stares daggers through the back of Dean's head. Poor Baby can't just leave this situation so she just keeps on rollin’. Nobody wins that day.

“That was before you told me you were lying your ass off just to kick me out last minute. Your subscription for my prayers and personal Jesus license have now expired, by the way. Like, the fuck does talking to you even do?”

“Fine!” Castiel snaps, so close to throwing his hands in the air for a grand effect but luckily thinking better of it since he's in a car that has a roof among other things. “I understand that you're angry—” he tries to start over, calmer, after a self-collecting breath.

“No, you don't,” Dean mutters.

“But you can't risk your life in the stupidest available way just to get back at me, Dean. Not after everything I've done to make sure you come back safe.”

Well at least he didn't include Sam in that „saving” part.

“You were there, man. You know Benny never double crossed me or you. What the exact fuck is your problem with him?”

A very angry squint-frown precedes the actual answer.

“You were his ticket to Earth. Now your life doesn't hold the same value.”

“Thanks, Cas. That's really swee—”

“You know that's not what I meant, Dean,” Cas growls in a tone that's clearly a final warning.

So final even Sam and his high horse must have heard since he steps in to defuse Cas.

“Cas, I'm not a fan of saying it, but Benny isn't a threat to Dean. I think the guy is kinda trying to settle,” he offers.

Dean smiles a little bit.

“See, Cas?”

“But I'm worried he might have more vamps trying to take him down because he pissed off every fang that ever knew him and then some. This is actual danger, Dean.”

“What?!” Castiel explodes in unbridled rage.

“Sam, have you ever wondered where do snitches go after they die?”

“Dean, you know I'm serious.”

“Ditches,” Dean concludes.

“When exactly were you going to tell me this?” Castiel asks coldly. “After you get killed by vampire avengers?”

“They're all taken care of, Cas. No mean jokes this time. Relax.”

“With your Winchester luck? I doubt it.”

“Oh, come on. It's not like you wouldn't bring me back even if something did happen.”

“Yes, even twice because first I would have personally destroyed you for being so reckless.”

“I know you would.”

“Guys,” Sam tries to placate, “we should all calm down and rethink how to handle it safely. It's not a good time for some jilted lovers tiff”, he begs.

Dean frowns then makes mocking faces at him to communicate that he's being a fucking douche.

“You're a fucking jilted lovers tiff,” he decides.

“We had sex, Dean,” Castiel states accusatorily.

Little does he know, he just broke Sam beyond repair. Now that the cat is out of the bag, the only thing Dean can do is to straighten some things out.

“Once,” he says, raising a finger to accentuate his point. “Cas was sure we were gonna die in the morning. We didn't, but there never was a follow up on that, so,” Dean shrugs.

“You weren't interested.”

“Says you,” Dean huffs. “I’m sorry, do you know me? Being interested in sex is in my top five pasttimes. You behaved like a brick on the other hand and I don’t know how to read concrete.”

“I don’t want to be here, good fucking God,” Sam finally yelps after a successful reboot of his brain.

Dean’s pretty sure nobody wants to be in this car right now and the only goddamn thing that could potentially make him ‘special’ right now is the fact currently Sam’s probably the only person in the Impala who has not lain his mouth on Cas’s dick. Hopefully.

Funnily enough, Cas could easily poof out without lethal injuries, but he’s dead set on staying, judging from the frown on his face that looks like a stock market crash diagram.

“I didn’t exactly see you giving me any signs.”

And set on having this conversation.

“I’m not a cat, I don’t go into heats, Cas. Can we talk about it somewhere more private? Later? Cuz everybody here wants to fucking die right now.”

“Private?” Cas asks. “If you want privacy to talk then why do you refuse to book a room with me?”

“We don’t need to share a room to have a conversation. Unless what you want it to end with is getting back on track with that last night on Earth thing we had that one time.”

“Jesus Christ,” Sam cries.

“Grow up and stow your crap, Sam,” Cas says unexpectedly before Dean could even bother to serve anything in a similar note.

Dean is so thrown off his equilibrium by that he puts the car to an abrupt halt. Only because he’s too deeply wired to not crash the Impala into the first available so he won’t accidentally kill Sam.

That is, if Cas’s words haven’t obliterated him already. He glances at him, just in case. Speechless as holily commanded by the celestial – potentially horny – wrath from the back seat, but at least he’s still breathing.

“Um,” he says, because someone’s gotta, because he’s still the big brother in this demented equation. “Cas, what the fuck was that?”

“Should you, of all people, really need me to be this blunt – now that the worst affairs have been settled, we could pick up where we left off, and hopefully reach a mutual understanding regarding the nature of our relationship so that doubt no longer hinders you. If it’s still something that interests you, of course. Would that be clear and direct enough, Dean?”

Well, that was… long? Long enough citations are probably needed, but, uh, yeah. S’ gotta be addressed immediately or else.

“Cas, that was 2010 and we have 2012 now.”

“It was 2012 when you prayed to me in Purgatory and it was 2012 four days ago. Granted, your feelings towards me might be very complicated, but I still can sense and read your longing,” Cas says with a weary sigh.

“Stop smelling my longing,” Dean responds with a wearier one. “And I don’t have to explain myself to you.”

“But I should explain myself to you.”

“I’m real fed up with your explanations, you know that? And we don’t got time for that, either. We need to get to Lafayette because we got a case waiting to get solved.”

“It’s because he’s waiting there for you, isn’t it,” Cas says sadly; not a question. A statement.

Dean doesn’t need to respond. Doesn’t feel like it, too.

Yeah. It’s good to actually have someone waiting for you; someone there.

Maybe it’s not that complicated, after all. Maybe it doesn’t have to be.

Dean starts the car. He’s got a place to go to.

The sound apparently wakes Sam from his stupor. His bright idea of the day, he turns the radio on before the awkward silence can make the universe inside of the Impala collapse on itself and on all three of them. Too late for Dean to react now; might as well get a load of the weather report.

In the back seat, Cas flicks his wrist subtly and the monotone voice sharply cuts off into static for a moment and the frequency bar moves elsewhere on its’ – or rather, Cas’s – own. Some solitary synthesiser-made sounds drop one after another like tiny steps and Dean realizes he definitely has heard this song before at some point in his life as eighties one hit wonders ain’t no strangers to him. Oh well. Might as well not get any of the wea—

Looking from a window above, it’s like a story of love… Can you hear me?

Is he fucking kidding?!

Came back only yesterday, I’m moving farther away.... Want you near me…

“Are you fucking kidding?” Dean cries out, incredulous.

Tries to turn the radio off but it just won’t die.

All I needed was the love you gave— “You want melodramatic? I’ll give you melodramatic.” —All I needed for another day — Dean reaches out for his phone and starts typing angrily — and all I ever knew, only you.

He puts on good ol’ Fish and hopes it’s gonna be louder than Cas’s synth-pop loving. And starts driving towards where he wants to be cause he’s tired of dancing.

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stonecoldjerseyfox · 4 years

Text

Jersey on my mind (part 1)

Daryl rams his fist in the roof of the car as hard as he possibly can and swears loudly at his own stupidity; he doesn't even try to tailor the words as he utters a whole bunch of profanity, without its equal. Fucking hell! Of course it was a trap! And here they are, locked inside a car, like a baffled fox stuck in a fox scissors. The difference is that he and Aaron are stuck inside a crappy car with a dead engine, surrounded by walkers. How many are they? Too many. Right now, he’d preferred the fox scissors. With pulsating, burning knuckles he looks at his male companion.

”What?”

The man in the passenger seat observes him calmly. Daryl hesitates at first, but on the other hand; they are sitting in a car that can be devoured, to say the least, by hordes of walkers any second. It would just require that one of those rotten morons manages to smash a window.

”I came out here too, ya know, not feel all close up back there.” Daryl scoffs. ”Even now, this still feels more like me than back in them houses. That's pretty messed up, huh?”

Aaron meets his gaze, nods slightly, with a faint smile. Is it pity?

”You were trying.”

Maybe all in vain, Daryl thinks. He’s been accustomed to surviving day by day; all of his life has been about surviving, often day by day, to the point where this new reality feels completely unnatural to him. Being out in the woods, hunt for food, sleep underneath the stars, wash off wherever he could find water. Nowadays, since the group settled in Alexandria, he feels like a caged, wild animal; shackled, restricted, totally superfluous. To admit that this new way of life doesn’t bring him any calm, any satisfaction, is shameful. But to come clean with it; if this is the end, it doesn’t matter, right?

”Listen-” Aaron says, while a walker presses its face towards the window, smears its saliva, mixed with blood, all over it. ”I saw you with your group out there. You led them to safety.”

Daryl grunts. Yep, he did. But that wasn't enough. Nothing is enough. He couldn't save Beth and it still haunts him in his dreams. No one, not even Maggie, blamed him for it, but it didn’t help him sleep any better at night. He thought the discovery of Alexandria would heal his wounds to some extent, make him feel that he was repaying some kind of debt to the group, a favor of some sort; In vain off course.

A dead bastard grins badly at him through the window. They can’t sit here. They have to get out. Aaron seems to think the same. Daryl takes a cigarette from his pocket, puts it between his lips and starts looking for something to light it with.

”I’ll go.” he says. ”I’ll lead them out. You make a break for the fence.”

Aaron immediately starts to oppose the plan. Crap, they don’t really have time to argue.

”Just let me finish my smoke first.”

Daryl is about to take a throat flare when he’s interrupted. Somewhere on the outside, gunfire breaks out. Daryl drops the cigarette into his crotch out of pure surprise. He swears out loudly as the cigarette burns a small hole in his pants, while the walkers, whose attention has been directed towards the men inside the car, like kids in a candy store, shifts attention towards the sound. Aaron twists and turns in the passenger seats, tries to get a glimpse of what’s going on outside, but the walkers are in the way.

”What’s that?”

”I dunno.”

Whatever it may be, it can't be good. No one from their group knows they are here. Outside the car, walkers are mowed to the ground like dominoes. This is their chance.

”Come on.”

Daryl grabs the crossbow. With the cigarette in the corner of his mouth and with one last glance at Aaron, they swing the doors open and throw themselves out of the car. Without dropping the cigarette, Daryl swings the crossbow through the air and hits one of the walking corpses right in the kisser. Its jaw bone flies through the air and drops to the ground. At the same time Daryl sees two figures in the corner of his eyes he doesn’t recognize. A male, armed with what looks like the shaft of a broomstick, which he swings through the air like some goddamn- he’s torn from the staff and the man, as the second figure dives into his field of view. A woman, wearing a hat, armed with an automatic rifle that she aims at a walker right behind him; she shoots and the bullet hits straight in the head.

”Let’s go.” the unknown male waves at them to follow his lead.

They start running through the mass, towards the open gate in the fence, surrounding the area. Daryl shuts the gate in front of the remaining walkers just as they reaches it. Daryl and Aaron turns towards the newcomers. The situation has changed in the matter of seconds. From being crammed inside the car, surrounded by walkers and in the belief that their last moment had come, they have been freed by two complete strangers. The deserted street is littered with walkers. The four of them looks at each other, while the remaining dead sons of bitches tries their best to squeeze themselves trough the small squares of wired net.

”That was…” Aaron looks at them with his hands raised in front of him; some kind of peaceful gesture. ”That was… wow. Thanks. I’m Aaron. This is Daryl.”

Without the slightest facial reaction, the woman lifts the rifle at them; over the barrel Daryl meets her steady, yet jaded, gaze underneath the brim. Come on…

”No, no, no.” Aaron waves his hands even more frantically in front of himself and Daryl.

”What the f-”

”Mila-” the man’s dark eyes widen at her bold action.

”Safety precaution, Morgan.” the woman replies, in a thick accent no one of them definitely haven’t heard before. ”You got to save them. Now we’re even.”

”I said no harm-”

”Yeah, ’cuz that went well yesterday?” she scoffs.

Daryl’s tired. Tired of being surprised, tired of being overshadowed and damn tired of having weapons aimed at him; he raises his crossbow at her. That might make her boggle. It doesn’t.

”I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” she says. Without breaking their eye contact she nods the barrel towards the ground, for him to put down his crossbow.

”Ain’t that smart pointing guns at people, lady.”

”Ain’t smart getting trapped either.”

Don’t fucking test my patience, Daryl thinks, focuses on breathing trough his nose; it’s not the right time to fire up, though his temper works against him on that part. He sighs and reluctantly lowers the crossbow. Behind the rifle he’s met with a smirk, whereupon she lowers the rifle.

”Great.” Aaron lets out a deep sigh. ”Thanks, again. Erhm, why-” he turns and looks at the bloodthirsty cluster behind the fence.

Daryl looks at the male with the staff. Why didn’t he kill them? She was the only one who actually did.

”Because all life is precious, Daryl.”

At those words the woman rolls her eyes.

”Wha-”

”Don’t ask.” the young woman interrupts Aaron. ”We have to move. Whoever set the trap will return.”

Daryl looks at the unlucky couple. He’s in his late forties, tall and dressed in cargos; she can't be a day older than thirty, maybe even younger. Short, athletic similar to a long-distance runner; tenacious, lean muscles. Except for the hat, she’s dressed in jeans, denim shirt, a quilted rust colored jacket and a pair of boots. What catches his eye is how worn and pale she looks. The shadows under her eyes tattles that she hasn’t slept for a long time, may need to eat, or even have a cold. At that moment she puts her fingers in the corners of her mouths and whistles loudly. The sharp sound bounces over the desolated road, against the buildings. As on command the back door of an abandoned pickup opens further afield. At first he’s sure it’s an ambush. The next second, and he can hardly believe his eyes, a boy, no more than three or four years old, with long, blonde hair, climbs out of the back seat and runs towards them. He carries a walkman and a pair of headphones in his small hands. A small backpack bounces on his back as he scurries up to them, where he clings to the women's jeans, seemingly calm, curious even with the two newcomers. The extra weight the boy puts on her, while clinging to her right leg, seems to make her sway on the spot.

”He’s yours?”

What a stupid question; the only difference is the blonde hair, unlike hers. Otherwise, he’s a copy of his mother.

”He is.”

She looks at the boy, then back at Daryl. The gaze is steady, alert; like a she-wolf watching its cub. The boy tugs at his mother’s jacket. She looks at him and shakes her head lightly, making the long hair sway.

”Schh. I can’t carry you.” she whispers towards him and turns her head towards them. ”As I said, we better get out of here.” she repeats and squeezes the boy’s small hand, while giving Morgan a glance. ”It's dusk soon.”

”Oh, but we have good news!” Aaron exclaims; the former politician returns to his role, in the hunt for voters and supporters. Or in this case, survivors to join them. ”We have a community not far from here. Walls, electricity, it’s really safe. If you’d like to come with us…”

They expect them to look overwhelmed. Maybe surprised even. Instead, Morgan shakes his head and politely abrupts Aaron.

”No, thank you. We’re on our way somewhere.” Morgan nods towards Mila and the boy, whose big blue eyes are pasted on Daryl and the crossbow in his hand.

”Though we are a bit lost-” Morgan continues, starts to search through the pockets of his jacket. ”If you could tell me where we are.”

From the beige weather jacket he takes a folded map, which he hands over to Daryl. He takes it. It’s well-used, worn and stained. Over the big blue field that is the Atlantic, next to the east coast, someone has written a message in blue ink. His eyes are drawn to a certain part of the message. He looks at Morgan, back at the message. ’Sorry, I was an asshole. Come to Washington. The new world’s gonna need Rick Grimes’. Once again he looks up at Morgan. What does this mean? He knows Rick?

”Ya’ know Rick? Rick Grimes?”

”Well, yes.” Morgan's eyes wander between him and Aaron. ”Do you?”

”He’s with us.” Daryl returns the map. ”Back at Alexandria.”

Morgan and Mila look at each other. The man seems not to believe his ears, whereupon he declares that he found the map at a church, with Rick's name on it.

”That's where I met Mila, and Juri. We decided to stick together, go to Washington.”

”Well, he aint there.”

That’s when the situation, once again, changes rapidly, in a matter of seconds. The pale woman’s pupils dilates, as if a curtain is drawn in front of her, and she collapses on the ground in front of them.

”Mila!”

Morgan throws himself down next to her, followed by Aaron who takes the boy by the arm and pulls him over. Daryl gets down on one knee next to her; while Morgan pats her on the cheek, calling her name, Daryl places the back of his hand against her forehead, while his eyes searches for the cause of this.

”Mila, Mila!”

”She’s burning up.” Daryl states. ”When did you last eat?”

”A couple of hours ago.” Morgan says, and for the first time since they met him, he looks afraid. ”She didn't eat much though. I don’t understand.”

”What’s wrong with her?” Aaron’s eyes are worried. ”Is she hurt?”

Like on command, Daryl once again searches her with his eyes, from top to bottom. She starts to move, or rather shivers with chills, while grunting, like in pain. She has a fever and is pale like a sheet.

”She’s wounded or something? Sick?”

”I don't think so. Don't know. She hasn't said anything.” Morgan meets his gaze. ”We were assaulted yesterday, the same group that trapped you I believe. But we disarmed them.”

That's when Daryl’s eyes are drawn to the tank top; it looks bulky at the stomach, as if it were too much fabric at that particular spot, and in addition, the entire middle part of the garment is somewhat stained, wet even. Without warning, Daryl lifts the top. What’s underneath causes Aaron to put his hands in front of the boy's eyes; it’s not a pretty sight.

”All life is precious, my ass-” Daryl takes a deep breath and sighs. This ain’t good. ”Son of a bitch.”

Her midsection is wrapped in three layers of gaffer tape with pieces of grey cloths, soaked in blood. The skin is swollen and shifts in a palette of red, purple and blue.

”I had no idea.” Morgan exclaims.

”Well, now ya’ do.” Daryl sputters and takes out his knife. ”Gotta remove this. Hold her.”

While Morgan tries to get a word from Mila, Daryl cuts the tape and carefully lifts the bloody pieces of grey melange fabric, seemingly what once was a t-shirt. It’s worse than he thought. A gash, from what looks like a sharp object, like a machete, runs from navel to rib cage, is stapled with a staples gun and leeks fluid. The fact that the wound is stapled and that Morgan had no idea she was hurt, makes it even more bizarre; did she staple herself?

”Gotta get her to Alexandria.” Daryl says. ”She needs a medic.”

Without waiting for an answer, as if there was time for it, Daryl lifts her off the ground. If he, or they, doesn’t act quickly, she’ll die. And considering the boy- she quips when Daryl adjusts her in his arms, most likely in pain; that she was able to walk around an entire day, and ward off walkers with that wound; impressive, but incredibly foolish. How much blood has she lost by now? What was she thinking? That staples and gaffer tape would do the trick? It’s like a goddamn scrapbooking project. She ain’t no surgeon, that’s for sure. Morgan collects their belongings; backpacks and weapons, Aaron takes the boy, who hasn’t said a word during the entire time, in his arms and they start scudding back toward Alexandria.

(I’ll be posting part 2 asap)

#daryl fanfiction #daryl x oc #daryl dixon #Jersey on my mind #Daryl Dixon Fanfic #The Walking Dead fanficition #The walking dead fanfic #fanfiction #twd fanfiction #fanfic #twd fanfic #the walking dead fandom

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midas-or-khaos · 4 years

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Spirit, chapter 2

Ughhhhhhhh...waking up is shit. Ice sat in place for his heart, but waking up to these covers is amazing; so soft, like lamb wool or something and it’s all so WARM, like a 360 blanket draining away the frost in his marrow. Whatever was causing that gentle swaying was a life saver. Nice, gentle, swaying...

...Wait. Beds don’t rock, something’s happened. Ohhhhhhhh shit he fainted yesterday hadn’t he? Who (with the exception of trainee surgeons and Victorian women in novels) faints?

People who meet things that don’t exist apparently, ‘cause last time anyone checked giants don’t fucking exist! SOD IT! Ok, calm down, level head, this isn’t the time to go crazy ‘cause otherwise he’s fucked. Just breathe and think it through, what happened? He fainted for the first time in his life, and is now in the possession of whoever found him. Bright side, he was now warm and healing his busted feet, so if a chance to escape occurred, the odds were more stacked in his favour. His head rattled, was it all against him, or was his head pain something else? Concentrate. Other side, the giants could pull him out of whatever cranny they’d stuffed him into at any point and crush him. One option then, he had to try and escape unnoticed before anything happened.

Ok what was the environment Bill was working with? Through the fuzzy walls, the muttering from before was still going on (just quite a bit louder, though not painfully). The language used wasn’t anything recognisable, even the sounds seemed completely left field with the occasional use of whistling on certain words. No ability to communicate, great. Made sense now why whoever shouted back when he called out just said ‘argh’. Bill couldn’t distract them with bullshitting if he was spotted, so that meant extra stealth. He could do that, but how? They’re awake and aware so they’ll notice him moving around wherever he was. Especially if he was close to the body of whichever giant he was attached to. No knife though, so he couldn’t make a hole and slip out. He’d have to force his way out the top, but take it slow.

Lightly patting around in the dark, the smooth wool came to a dip above his head. There’s the bitch. Trying with a hand first, a few fingers managed to slip through the sphincter. Chattering he hadn’t noticed had been there started up at at a whole new level. Chilly, ok, but not too hard. Trying again, the whole hand pushed through, frost lapping at exposed finger tips. Freedom, but dangerous freedom. If there was no shelter once he got out, he’d be back to square 1, freezing his balls off and potentially dying from exposure. However, there was still no change from anyone on the outside, so coast was clear. Better to take a chance. Taking the second hand, it snugly fit in beside the other; now came the tricky part. The angle wasn’t the best, but with all the might he could muster from string bean muscles (and shot glass worth of excitement induced adrenaline), the clenched entrance came apart, and a blinding spotlight snuck through. It’s just there!

On shaking thighs trying to keep balance, the brunette stuck his upper half out, almost instantly a gush threw Bill around like a daisy hanging on for dear life to its stem; the bittersweet outside. As the whoosh past, the opportunity to look round dame at last. The boy wasn’t sure what was worse: seeing nothing, or seeing reality.

He was nowhere, adrift a sea of swaying spines that rolled and tumbled for an eternity all round, in a boat he had no control of, and had no idea of its intentions or direction. Even if he were to escape, there was nowhere he could hide. No shelter he could find. No experience on how to find food. He was as dead out there (he found with shuddering breaths, unsure if it was the chill, or his own rising panic) as he was in the pockets of his captors. There was no way to find home. Jesus...

...his captors had been awfully quiet...

“Doyo?”

Throwing his head back, the boy’s blue orbs grew wide and doe like as a new face held what little concentration he could get from himself in place. Younger, much younger, around mid 20’s? But he held similar features to the older man, so maybe a relative. Wait was he talking to Bill? A shiver, CRAP, he’d been spotted trying to escape!

“Wwwwwwwha?” Was all that could dribble out of the O of his lips.

Curious buttercup coloured irises were hidden by furrowed brows.

“Doyo...deskja jo?”

“I, errrr, em. I’m sorry, I literally don’t understand a word you’re saying, but pleeeeaaaasssse.” He reasons with bated breath, “Pleeeaaassseee don’t hurt me.”

No reply this time, just an abrupt stop, throwing him forward. Rising up rollercoastered his stomach down. A full-shadowed jaw was coming closer, he was about to get eaten, a gruesome death.

“OH FUCK PLEASE DON’T-”

Smush

“-ww...wha?”

The giant pressed Bill to his forehead, holding him there. What the hell was he doing? The heat radiating off was like lava, steaming off his fingertips whilst the wind at his back felt that much worse for it. His holder turned back and called out.

“Sit mayert. Demnot doing great.”

What was that?

The youthful face looked back, the cords of his throat tight and bulging, like he was holding his breath. Did he just switch to English? What he imagining that? HOW WAS THAT POSSIBLE! HOW WAS ANY OF THIS POSSIBLE?!

He was losing his mind, and his body. Limp all round, this unusual unresponsiveness was feeling less like fright, and more like what little heat was being sapped out once more. Bill couldn’t go on, the icy ache was taking over all thought.

A hand like fallen tree descended in like it was nothing, plucking up his upper body and stuffing it back inside his baking prison (which was doing little to warm him truly) and sealed the top shut once more, footsteps becoming thunderous all round. They were moving fast. Fuck, he couldn’t stay awake, the heat was a lullaby, and no matter how much his mind wanted to fight, in the end the body submitted.

...This was getting ridiculous. Where was he this time? Well, at least the supposedly unmoving ice in his body was shifting its way out again, because now he could feel his fingers and toes. Opening his eyes, he was greeted to a pointed roof of what looked like thatch, only it was some ridiculous amount of meters up above to accommodate the gigantic residents. The whole room in fact smelt earthy, walls made of waxed wood and thatching, with something that looked like clay or mud plugging in holes and leaving the air tasting of dust, however non of the elements had any chance of getting in so win some lose some.

Sitting up, a groan threw him back down, a migraine putting him back in his place. Oh the joys of feeling like life’s punching-bag. Something foul smelling and wet suddenly smacked his feet, before trailing over and over his legs. Ew. Shifting to try and pull away, the thing only came back with more vigour, going for the whole body, mo matter how much he tried to pull away. Whatever it was eventually pulled back, and heavy pants came from above. Like that...of a dog. Uncurling, the wide smile, stout snout and wide face was unmistakable. It looked like some kind of Tibetan mastiff, if only some 100x bigger. It seemed friendly though, and that smile was too wonderful to hold a grudge against, it was doing its best to take care of him. Despite being slobbered on thanks to its exuberance, Bill couldn’t help but coo and call it back, wanting to stroke that lion mane ginger hair. Probably felt like silk. The dog was all too happy to oblige, short nose leading in to nuzzle his middle fondly. This was a better way to wake up, lying on a bear-like dog, being snuggled.

“Thanks mate. You’re lovely, aren’t you? I wish I had a dog like you back at Uni, so I would always have someone nice to come home to.” He slurred, draping over the good boy’s snout. A chuff was replied.

How had he become acclimatised to this level of insane so quickly, that he didn’t question or care about lying down with an enormous dog? Had he really given up trying to comprehend, or had his subconscious decided to flood his systems with enough serotonin to not panic himself into oblivion? Because consciously, he still saw this day as maddening. Giants were real, he was tiny, and he was making a bed on a dog. To think, he’d thought leaving his mother to stay on the other side of the country was a big deal. That managed to put a bit of a sour note in his mouth, eyes dulled as he concentrated on his mother. What he wouldn’t do to have her back. Bill’s poor mother must be losing her mind with fright, and in all honesty, he wanted her back more than anything in this world that made less and less sense. Just the sight of familiarity, the smell of floral unconditional love, and the touch of a warm hand.

“Hey.”

...reality made no sense. It sounded like buttercup eyes from before.

“Rooster, you’re not still Ill, are you?”

Rooster?

Not bothering to turn and get up to only let pain drag him down (plus Doge, as the boy decided to coin his new friend, was comfortable), Bill chose to instead groan to the air.

“My name’s not rooster.”

There was a small shift from behind. A new set of breaths, much lighter than the dog’s filtered lightly across his back. He was so close, all that nonchalantly was being replaced by adrenaline. He could grab and control all he wanted. Stay calm.

“Did...you just reply?” Came a stuttered response.

“Surprise. I don’t know either, but I can understand you now.” How very monotone of him, good.

There was a pause on Buttercup’s behalf, so he chose to carry on.

“I think it started when I was pressed to your forehead-” snapped out.

“-You remembered that? I’m surprised, I thought the hypothermia had driven you out of your mind.”

“Hypothermia?” Was that what was messing his head round? To think he’d been that vulnerable.

“Yes. Didn’t you notice?”

“I’ve never had it, so I wouldn’t know.”

A light touch, maybe a finger, grazed his spine. Trying not to shiver is harder than it looks.

“You feel warmer to the touch Rooster, so it’s probably gone.”

There it was again. “Why do you keep calling me rooster?” That may have been a bit too forward. Luckily, Butter seemed to take it in stride.

“Sorry, your determination to live when you were faced with arid land was like that of a rooster. Stubborn. Well, that and the hair. You were tenacious enough to outwit death.”

Don’t really think it was tenacity mate. Looks more like it was luck. It also looked like his luck was out.

Multiple rough finger tips touched both sides. That was the last straw. Unable to stay calm and pretend not to be terrified, Bill let out a shout of “no!”, but the hand had already scooped under his squirming body and lifted him again.

“Shhhh shhhhh shhhh. It’s ok, you’re ok Rooster. Where’s all that bravery from before?”

It was never there, it was all a facade crumbling like dust in the wind. He wasn’t brave, never was, always too afraid to speak up. All of his so called bravery was simple survival tactics that had failed him miserably. He was stupid, and impulsive, getting so caught up in one direction of thought that he never saw the consequences. It was all go, and less stop and think. And now, that immediacy to react had made him scared of the same person that had saved him from hypothermia.

“I’m sorry.” Whispered out.

The hand lifted the boy to a scruffy cheek, sweet almond-shaped eyes looking over adoringly as a curtain of thick, onyx locks cascaded around and just let him be in that moment.

“Don’t be. You’re scared, that’s alright. I would be too if I were picked up by strangers. Let’s get you some food and you can tell me your name. Mine’s Ekashiba.”

“I’m Bill.” He could already tell he was going to forget that name quickly.

At last the brunette was pulled away, feeling better. It wasn’t often that Bill enjoyed close contact, hating to be touched by others (even his own family to a point, though it wasn’t personal), but for a reason even he couldn’t comprehend, Ekashiba’s touch wasn’t as pervasive and unwanted as usually all things were. It was...nice.

As the boy was held at waist level to the man, he couldn’t help but notice in fact, all of Ekashi spoke of warmth, literally. He was wearing some sort of monochrome robe, like a Kimono but made of thick wool, with a similar sort of linen version peaking underneath. On top of that, a deep crimson sleeveless robe and finishing it all off, ring earrings and a bead necklace. But no pockets, Bill noticed with a confused head swivel. How was he carried here then?

Trotting through connecting dome-shaped rooms, the heat started to permeate the air and a sweat was building. There in the centre of the room, a wide birthed fire pit made of sand, surrounded by what looked like the whole family sitting on the raised wooden, tatami matted floor, cooking. They were all chatting amongst themselves, not noticing or uncaring that Buttercup had entered. It was a much larger family than his own, with both grandparents all the way to a kid around 12. 9 of them in total, including the familiar bearded man. Here in the light, the resemblance was striking. Same squat button nose, same sunny eyes, hell even the same thin, bowed lips. Just the addition of crows feet and full beard.

“Dad, Rooster’s woken up.”

The man in question looked up.

“Situ mitsku do toyuma?”

What? Why couldn’t he understand them! For god sake, why’d he have to go through this song and dance twice?

“What did he say?”

Buttercup shot a look down, wide eyed.

“You can’t understand him, but you can understand me?”

“I don’t know! This is all new to me too!”

“Nea...wataki mo?”

“Yes Dad, everything’s fine. It’s just for some reason the little one can only understand me-”

“-Oi, dickhead! I’m 18, not 10-“

“-And we don’t know why.”

The Dad seemed to ponder this for a while, catching the attention of the other members that weren’t cooking (grandparents, wife and the other couple). It got quite heated at one point, and Bill was only managing to be ok with all the frighteningly boisterous shouting because he was still steaming about the earlier comment. Ekashi looked like a cat trying to focus in on one target among a flock of birds, barely keeping on track, and throwing the odd comment here and there.

“Are you sure?” “Doesn’t seem likely.” “I think we need to-“

This was like GCSE French all over again. Tidbits of understanding and the rest a sea of bollocks. Was this good news or bad?

“Buttercup, please, I just want to know what’s going on.”

“Buttrvrup?”

Crap. The brunette forgot only he called him that behind his back.

“That’s not the important bit, what’s going on?”

“They’re trying to decide what you are and if you’re safe to have round.”

“...but I’m like the size of a mouse, why would I be unsafe to have around?”

“They fear you may be a Monster.”

Of course. Why didn’t Bill see that coming.

“...fair enough.” What kind of an answer was that?! He should’ve made more of an effort to try and change the family’s mind through Ekashi.

The conversation just kept going on and on in circles, but one member of the debate was starting to take notice in the boy’s mind. The grandmother, hunched, skin like cracked earth and silvery. She hadn’t said a thing the whole time, just stared at him and watched his hawkish lay with beady eyes. Like she was debating his worth just through observation. Was he doing alright? Was he making a good impression.

“Boy, lift up your shirt.”

Holy shit. “Y-you speak English?” Why didn’t she say anything this entire time!

“Please, do as I ask.”

Everything fell silent, save for the bubbling wok of oil, and everyone came round to see what she was talking about. So silent, the anticipation was cutting.

“...ok.” Taking both hands to the edge of the roughed up t-shirt, the boy himself was reluctant to see what was there, but it had to be done. Putting up resistance as much as he could, shaking hands lifted the edge with nervous twitched rising. There was a black strip. No way. Lifting more the strip became strips, till he got the lip of the edge into his mouth. It was a symbol, like a kanji. A perhaps dreadful realisation, she’d seen this before.

“As I thought. The sign of the heavens. Oki, you can’t harm the child.”

“Kamita odo?”

She didn’t break eye contact once.

“...because that, is your son’s new spirit.”

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ks-caster · 4 years

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The 100 Season 7 Episode 4 - Post-Liveblog Recap

Okay, so I liveblogged an episode for the first time - and it turned out to be a nice way to stay focused through the commercial breaks. Might continue to do that for the rest of the season.

But TBH I started doing it just so I could bitch about the CLEAR AND BLATANT LACK OF A SCENE WHERE SANCTUM!KRU REALIZE THAT BELLAMY AND ANOMOLY!KRU ARE MISSING. That was an important scene that the whole fandom, more or less, has been waiting for the entire time for various reasons.

How do the characters react? Who figures out that something’s wrong first? Does Clarke sense Bellamy’s absence because they have a bond? Does Emori go looking for her space sister to comfort her other space sister only to find her missing?

(Actually, she does. That’s my headcanon and I’m sticking to it. Might fic later. Accounts for Emori’s complete absence while her bestie Raven is falling apart.)

Edit: here's the fic!

Anyway, back to the episode - whoever was in charge of editing really really dropped the ball. Missing realization scene, poorly ordered Raven and Clarke scenes. The music during the Dev-and-Hope montage was a nice touch but just too loud enough that I really had trouble telling what they were saying - and the pacing would have felt better with just one show of teenage!Hope before we got 20-year-old her. The cut from Orlando agreeing to train Anomaly!Kru to 5 years later was WAY too abrupt for me to get a feel for the character and relationship development that they were trying to shoehorn in in order to create conflict at the end. I got where they were going with everything, but in a I’m-reading-a-newbie-writer’s-fanfic-because-I-love-the-story-concept-and-want-to-support-them kind of way and not in a I’m-watching-a-show-made-by-experienced-professionals-and-paying-for-the-privilege-in-ad-revenue kind of way. Disappointing.

Jumping around here for a bit: I gotta say I’m loving the makeovers this season! Hair and makeup did a great job on bringing back the old Raven without losing the maturity they gave her, giving Murphy and Emori their Gucci Royalty Vibes without losing the feel of their individual styles, and making Hope look like she can’t find quite the balance between feral forest girl and innocent shut-in who can’t bear to take a life (which is accurate to her character, of course).

And Echo! So I really, really didn’t like her makeovers in seasons 5 and especially 6, because it felt like they were trying too hard to make her look pretty in a 21st Century kind of way. She looked softer, more vulnerable, which really contradicted her character traits - but I thought that might’ve been on purpose, to show a change in her (that she did indeed allow herself to become softer and more vulnerable for her family). And her post-time-skip (not that one. Or that one. The other one. There’s a lot of those. Bah.) look feels like a return to herself; she’s beautiful but in a no-nonsense, don’t-forget-I-can-cut-your-throat kind of way. (Is this because I just really love the butch look on woman and am myself a butch woman? Maybe. But that doesn’t mean I’m wrong.)

Side note: Where the hell did they get clippers on Penance? Those haircuts were entirely too even to have been done with scissors. I’ll buy that Gabriel and Orlando shaved their heads and their perfect round cuts were growout, but Hope and Echo? Electric clippers. Like I said I like the looks, but guys, there’s no way.

I liked that I got a better feel for Hope’s character this episode - she’s trying so hard to be like her mom and Aunty O and all the heroes they told her about when she was a child, but the truth is she’s been in one real battle, she froze, and her best and only friend died. And since her only role models were these incredibly strong people who didn’t give up, back down, hesitate, that wouldn’t be an easy thing for her to get over. (Given that Diyoza was pregnant with her for two entire seasons, I’d really like to have more time developing Hope’s character - or even the same amount of screen time but go easier on the timeskips, lol. She keeps having growth/maturity/life experience spurts so it’s hard to keep up with the development that we’re shown.

So, 5 (7? Wasn’t she 22? There’s still 2 years we missed right?) years after watching her friend die, and 5 (7?) years of blaming herself for freezing, she’s put into the same position, and she stabs some lady in the neck. Kid didn’t steal her coping mechanisms! All joking aside thought, the kid basically relived her trauma in real life - honestly her reaction was 100% valid.

I’m sure I’m supposed to be upset by Echo’s choice to kill the remaining gold-head people. But I think the only reason that’s supposed to bother me is that she promised (ish - she was real explicitly clear that she’d do what was necessary to rescue Bellamy and them were the breaks) Orlando that she wouldn’t. I think I’m supposed to care about the fractured relationship between AnomalyKru and Orlando.

I don’t. I don’t know if it’s the super-fast timeskip (it was weird enough to see the changed dynamics in SpaceKru when I deeply knew all of the characters AND we got time to see the changes play out) or the fact that I didn’t really get to know Orlando in a way that made me super sympathetic to him (I’ll get to that in a minute) or if it’s just that he was smart enough to know he was being played from the start (see Navy SEAL mom didn’t teach you how to swim and Echo again being 100% clear that killing people might still happen) and walked right in anyway. Either way, his betrayal wasn’t enough of a motivator for me as an audience member to be bothered about how things ended between him and AnomalyKru. I kind of shrugged and moved on.

More on Orlando... So The 100 has had several plotlines that center around people doing dangerous, terrible and downright ridiculous things because of their religions; see the kidnapping and conclave of freaking children killing each other to become commander, Gaia’s whole character arc + starting a new religion around Octavia/WonKru betraying that religion to go back to their old one centering on Madi, WHO IS GODDAMN TWELVE, all of Sanctum and season 6, the Sanctum conflict here in season 7, and now this goddamn Bardo Disciple shite.

Now I’m not dishing on real life religion or religious people - I happen to have one of those myself - but the plot of some-people-take-their-religion-way-too-far-drink-the-koolaid-and-hurt-people-around-them has been done and done and done on this show. And now here we have Orlando, who was a high-ranking member of his religion, drank the koolaid, cast out, still a true believer and therefore dangerous because his perspective is fundamentally skewed. I don’t know anything about this religion but that it’s militarized (they can arrest people) and think that sentencing people to 10 years of madness-inducing Geneva Convention violations and then bringing them back to their families two days later is okay. I don’t really want to know anything else, because I’m worried that the show is going to work hard on making this religion scarier than the Sanctum one (needing to one-up themselves with the big bad, of course) which just keeps making the commander religion look humane in comparison.

Which it wasn’t. But I digress.

So Orlando was kinda’ cool, but getting in too deep with a fundamentalist who was complicit in his own abuse by said religion (and so who knows what he thought was okay to do to other people) and then it ended badly.

Cue shocked Pikachu.

Moving on. Clarke. Baby. After the harrowing experience of the radiation destroying the radio so you couldn’t say goodbye to your mom when you were supposed to go to space, then missing your time window and getting left behind on Earth, and the radio broke them too so you couldn’t even be sure your friends would leave in time until they blasted off, and then calling Bellamy every day when you knew he couldn’t hear you, and ALL OF THE FREAKING LAST SEASON WHERE YOU WERE POSSESSED AND WOULD HAVE GIVEN ANYTHING TO LET YOUR FRIENDS AND DAUGHTER KNOW BOTH THAT THAT WASN’T YOU AND THEN LATER THAT YOU WERE ALIVE and THEN your MOTHER getting possessed and you had to check to see if it was really her and it WASN’T. Clarke.

After all that terrifying inability to communicate.

You leave Gaia behind to warn everyone of the danger. INSTEAD OF CALLING THEM ON A PIECE OF HANDY TECHNOLOGY OR TAKING A QUICK TRIP BACK YOURSELF. TO TELL YOUR DAUGHTER WHERE YOU WERE GOING. YOU DON’T THINK THAT MAYBE MAKING EXTRA SURE THAT EVERYTHING GETS COMMUNICATED CLEARLY AND IMMEDIATELY MIGHT BE A PRIORITY.

And then Gaia gets kidnapped. Honestly, cool! Not ‘cause I’m rooting for Gaia to be hurt (I don’t care all that much about her tbh) but I LOVE Indra and I want her to have more screen time and development this season - and or the chance to cut people up with her sword - and kidnapping her daughter seems like a great way to facilitate that.

*Looks at list* Oh, right, Jordan. I forgot you were here. Honestly I can’t figure out what the fuck is going on with you, and since I’ve had a whole season of not connecting with you because the story was too busy focusing on external plot... I don’t see that changing any time soon buddy. Sorry.

Oh and that FrEaKiNg PrOmO!

My garbage boy! My chaos gremlin! My excellent-at-impersonating-a-deity-even-if-it-goes-against-his-programming! What are they doing?!

I’m torn between NO DON’T HURT HIM and YES HURT HIM BECAUSE CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT AND BRAVERY BWAHAHAHA. At least I know there’ll be Murphy and hopefully Memori content in the next episode. That’s the good shit. It’s the only thing left about this show that still feels “pure,” not that I didn’t know what sort of darkness I was signing up for when I started but just because he and Emori are sort of the last light in the darkness, and it’s nice to get a break periodically.

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intothestarkerverse · 5 years

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The following does contain Endgame spoilers! It is also going to be have more than one part because I’m a long winded bitch, okay? This also took on a life of it’s own ridiculously quickly so it may deviate a teensy bit...

The Time of Our Lives (Pt 1)

Read on AO3

It began with a dream.

Peter had not been sleeping well since he returned from dust and watched his mentor die saving the universe. There were so many things left unsaid, so many regrets, and so much that he felt he had missed out on in his absence. He was surviving on a cocktail of energy drinks and melatonin that kept him awake when needed and lulled him into a deep sleep when he found his own fatigue was too great to withstand any longer.

He couldn’t recall the last time he’d had a dream that wasn’t a pulse pounding nightmare that left him dripping with tears or sweat when he finally pulled himself out of the terrors his own sleeping mind created. This night, he found himself facing something completely different than his average night terrors and, at first, he had trouble even differentiating it from the real world.

“Mr. Stark?”

The lab felt cold, as if the a/c was cranked to its highest setting. The lighting was too dim, the shade too warm. It smelled…wrong, almost clinical. There was no smell of warm metal and oil on the air. Peter paused, searching the room for his mentor. The moment his eyes landed upon him, Peter dropped his backpack, heavy with textbooks and homework and rushed forward, eager to begin whatever task Mr. Stark had for him that day. Instead, he came to an abrupt stop, staring at the man he loved so dearly.

Tony Stark was standing completely still, staring at Peter but not moving, not so much as breathing. It was so unlike the man that it was freaking Peter out. “Uh…Mr. Stark? You okay, Sir?”

The man blinked, finally, gaze slowly moving to lock with Peter’s and the teenager shifted uncomfortably under the weight of it. There was something wrong with his eyes. They were not the deep brown that Peter remembered, instead they shone a shifting hue of gold. “Our sincerest apologies for the nature of this meeting, Peter Parker.” While the voice sounded like Tony, there was a lack of warmth to the tone and a stilted nature to the words that reminded Peter of a poorly developed computerized voice from some non-Stark AI.

Peter’s eyes widened at the strangeness of his mentor’s behavior. “M…Mr. Stark?”

“No. We have assumed a form we know to be important to you, Peter Parker, but we are not Anthony Stark.”

“Then what are you?”

“The singularities. The Gems. The Stones of Infinity.”

“Wait…what?” Peter looked around at the lab, realizing now why nothing seemed exactly right. It was a dream. It was all a dream. While Peter wasn’t an avid lucid dreamer, he did become self aware in dreams with enough frequency to relax somewhat at the truly outrageous nature of what he was experiencing. Speaking with Infinity Stones wasn’t as terrible as most of his nightmares. He’d heard that overdosing on melatonin caused vivid and often nonsensical dreams, clearly he was going to need to drop his dosage. “Thanos destroyed the Infinity Stones.”

“The mind of Anthony Stark considered you a man of science, Peter Parker, what then does the first law of your thermodynamics teach you?”

Peter chewed his lower lip momentarily, he knew exactly what his dream was referring to, but he didn’t like what it was implying. “The law of conservation of energy. It can be transformed or transferred but it cannot be created or destroyed.”

“And what are the Stones if not energy, Peter Parker?”

Letting out a long sigh, he scored a hand through his hair. “Okay…so the Stones changed into a dream vision of Tony Stark? That seems…unlikely.”

“No. We lost our physical form. Our energy is no longer contained. It is spreading throughout space and time. Soon, it will reach the Heart of the Universe. When this occurs, your world…and every world, will cease to exist.”

Peter froze, his mouth falling open. Scratch everything he’d thought before, this was worse than any of the nightmares he’d had yet. “Okay…let’s say…let’s just say I believe you, why are you talking to me? You know I’m just a kid from Queens, right? There are like…gods and aliens and geniuses and people way better qualified to keep the universe from imploding or exploding or just plain ploding than me. Why enter my dreams…what’s the point?”

“We have an intimate knowledge of three minds, three souls. Thanos. Bruce Banner. And Anthony Stark. It was Anthony Stark’s sacrifice which impressed us most. Through the Vision, the Mind Stone was able to gain access to his brain patterns, his thoughts. He was a worthy hero, and of all those with whom he interacted in his lifetime…it was you, Peter Parker, in whom he had the greatest trust, hope, and faith. That is why we seek you out and why we ask you to aid us in saving ourselves and all that lives and exists in your plane.”

Peter blinked at the thing that was wearing Mr. Stark’s face, using his voice. He was the one that Mr. Stark trusted most? Him? His mentor had a strange way of showing it. “You must be confused…”

“There is no confusion. We require your assistance, Peter Parker, and we believe based upon our knowledge of Anthony Stark that you will not refuse us…and for the task that we require completed, we believe you are the least likely to fail.”

Peter didn’t know what to do. This was by far the strangest dream he’d ever had, but try as he might, he couldn’t seem to wake himself up. “You have enough power to snap away half of the universe, me included, why can’t you just create your own bodies?” Picking apart the logical discrepancies in his dream seemed his last avenue towards wakefulness.

“We cannot wield our power on our own and you are not strong enough to wield us collectively without perishing as Anthony Stark did.”

“Okay…let’s just say…let’s say I’m going to help you. What…what do you need me to do if you don’t want me to make you bodies by snap?”

“There is a device in Anthony Stark’s memories. A ‘prototype’ that was created by his father. With modifications, it can be used to collect our energy and confine it much in the way the Stones did.”

“So you need me to get the device? I can do that. Tell me where it is…”

“It was destroyed.”

“Can I make another one?”

“No. Anthony Stark did not see the plans for this device, neither does he know how to recreate it without them. They died with Howard Stark.”

This was incredibly frustrating. “Okay…so…what do you expect me to do, then? I can’t snap. I can’t get the device. I can’t build it. What good am I to you guys?” Peter pressed his fingers to his temples, trying to combat the headache that was building behind his eyes. “You’re not making any sense.”

As if sensing the frustrations of the boy in front of them, the figure shifted. “We have been attempting to save you from distress, Peter Parker, but we are failing to connect with you through methods of the Mind. It is imperative that you assist us and we will use any means necessary to gain your allegiance. Allow us to attempt the use of Soul.”

“What?” Peter was about to try scaling the building and jumping off the roof to try to utilize the falling sensation to wake up from his dream when he saw the change in the figure’s eyes. Gold to orange. But it wasn’t just the eyes, it was something else, the way the figure was standing, the life behind the eyes.

“Kid…”

Peter froze, his hands beginning a small but noticeable trembling at his sides. “Muh…Mr. Stark?”

“Yeah, Kid.”

Peter surged forward, throwing his arms around the man, forcing himself not to hold on too tightly lest he literally crush him in a super powered embrace. Hot tears formed in his eyes and he could feel them falling down his cheeks. There were so many things he wanted to say, so many things he wanted to do, but all he could manage at the moment was to ask a simple question into the now damp fabric of Tony’s shirt. “Soul. Using Soul means using your soul?”

“Yeah, something like that.” Tony squeezed the kid back and Peter no longer had any desire to wake up ever again. “Look, Kid, we don’t have a lot of time here…You leave REM sleep and the window of communication is gone without potentially harming you with the Infinity Stones. As much as I want to make this more sentimental, we don’t have time.” Tony rested his hands on the kid’s shoulders, giving them a tight squeeze as he pushed him back to look him in the eye. “You can’t wield the Stones together, but they can allow you to use them separately and for simple, isolated tasks within reasonable intervals. With the power spreading through the universe, they don’t have enough backlash to kill or maim you…they don’t even have enough power to make this job easier for you, just enough to get the job done.”

“But what job, Mr. Stark? What…what am I supposed to do?” As much as Peter wanted to relish being close to Tony once more, he understood the urgency and forced himself to return to the task at hand. He really didn’t want to fail Mr. Stark now, not after everything they’d been through.

Mr. Stark gave him a sad smile. “You’re going to go back in time to a point before the device was destroyed. Steal it…and bring it back here where we can modify it and save the universe one more time.”

“B…back in time?”

“Yeah, it’s not as bad as it sounds. I mean it is…paradoxes and all that jazz, but I did it and nothing terrible happened. Your odds are pretty good not to muck this up. I’m just sorry they won’t be sending anyone with you.”

“I’m going alone?” Peter didn’t know when he’d gone from believing this was an elaborate dream to absolute truth. Well, no, he did. It was the second he’d actually started talking to Mr. Stark. “I don’t even know where to start.”

“I do.” Tony gave him an apologetic half smile. “You’re going to a gala at Stark Industries in 1992. There’s security, but it won’t be a match for Spider-Man. You get in, you get the device, and you get out. The Stones will return you to the present and I will try to help you determine how to modify the device through your REM sleep cycle. Simple.”

“Simple.” Peter scoffed. “Whatever you say, Mr. Stark. I don’t even know what it looks like…”

“Like this.” Tony stepped back, holding out his hand before a metal object, roughly the size of a retro lunchbox, materialized in it. Peter studied it. It wasn’t much to see, really. Small and angular with moving parts, what appeared to be gold and crystalline components and a very rudimentary circuit board. They did say it was going to need to be updated. “It was going to be destroyed the following business day, so you’ll find it in the company’s incinerator.”

“Of course, I will, and I can’t go get it before it’s in a giant furnace?”

“No, security will be too tight.” The object in Tony’s hand vanished again and he reached out instead to cup the side of Peter’s face. “Pete, you can do this. I hate to ask it of you, but there is no one else I trust. You gotta do it.”

“Fine.” Peter sighed. “Fine.” No sooner had the words left his mouth than Tony’s eyes glowed again, this time taking on an emerald green color, flashing red, purple, and blue periodically before the world went black.

The first thing Peter became aware of as his dream faded was the sound of a string quartet and the low murmur of voices all around him. Blinking open his eyes, the teenager was assaulted by several things all at once.

He was no longer in his bedroom in Queens.

Instead, he was standing in the middle of an ostentatiously decorated foyer of what appeared to be Stark Industries headquarters…on the west coast…and not in 2023. Hair, makeup, and fashion was all reminiscent of very old 90’s movies and in a very unfortunate way. Struck by abject terror, he looked down at himself to make sure he was not wearing the over-sized Iron Man t-shirt and boxers he’d collapsed in the night before. Instead, he was both relieved and shocked to find that he was now dressed in a tuxedo complete with bow tie and shiny black dress shoes. He smoothed one hand over the jacket and wondered idly what the rest of him looked like. If only there was a mirror nearby so he could see. His gaze swept the room, finally noticing the mirror behind the temporary bar they’d set up for the gala. Peter was going to head in that direction just to satisfy his own curiosity, when he drew up short in the middle of the room looking far too conspicuous and neither noticing nor caring.

He couldn’t breathe.

He couldn’t think.

All he could do was stare.

—

Tony Stark had a reputation as the kind of young man who enjoyed a good party, probably a little bit too much…but unfortunately for him, this was not a good party. He swore he could practically taste the Ben-Gay, Old Spice, and cigar smoke in the air, the aroma was so strong. Everywhere he looked there were old men and their gold-digging wives. Every conversation was about business, stocks, politics…it was mind numbingly boring. There wasn’t a worthwhile scientist in the bunch, so there was no hope for intelligent conversation at all…and the only people at the party that he found even mildly attractive were the caterers. Tony had parked himself at the bar, drowning sorrows in expensive Scotch and doing his best to avoid the sycophants who hovered around the youngest Fortune 500 CEO in history, anxious to curtail some kind of favor. Maybe he should have let Obie run the company a little longer? Or, at the very least, be his ‘face’ at events like this one. Clearly, one of the first things Tony needed to do now that he was in charge was hire some younger, more attractive people into the upper echelon of the business.

He was in the process of flirting with the bartender, the guy wasn’t half bad. He was no male model, but Tony could at least pass the time with the guy… Then, something far more interesting caught his eye.

It wasn’t that the kid looked out of place. Well, no, he did. He totally and completely did. He was by far the youngest person in the room and Tony could have sworn he hadn’t seen him an hour ago, nor had he ever seen him before. He’d remember this one.

Tony drained his Scotch and tapped absently on the side of the empty glass as he leaned against the bar and observed.

The kid was standing with his eyes closed. That alone seemed a little strange. His reaction when he opened his eyes was just as peculiar. He looked…startled? Not just by where he was, but by his own tuxedo. Tony found himself laughing softly at the way the kid examined his clothes as if he hadn’t put them on himself just a few hours ago. Then, his gaze was sweeping the room and he was heading in Tony’s direction.

Maybe Tony’s luck was about to change?

They locked eyes across the room and Tony had trouble reading the expression in those captivating doe eyes. He looked…frightened, surprised, perhaps even overjoyed. He could work with all three of those emotions, actually. They’d make for a delightful cocktail later.

The bartender had returned with Scotch to refill his glass but Tony waved him away without taking his eyes off the kid who was now frozen like a young buck on the highway. “Two flutes of champagne.” He held out his hands for the objects, determined not to break eye contact lest the kid get away. He really didn’t want to let this one get away.

When the crystal flutes were pressed into his waiting hands, Tony started across the room. He broke eye contact but didn’t look away from the kid. Instead, his gaze raked over the boy. Slimly muscular. He looked…elegant in his tuxedo. Lovelier than any of the women in their evening gowns. His hair was styled with just enough gel to tame what Tony hoped were usually unruly chestnut tresses that would look deliciously attractive after he’d run his fingers through them, mussed them up, and given them a good tug.

Tony was only a few feet away from the boy when the kid seemed to snap out of his trance and looked as if he was going to make a break for it. The young CEO of Stark Industries rushed forward the last few steps, holding out one of the flutes of champagne with a lascivious grin. “Don’t even think about it, sweetheart. I didn’t come all the way over here to watch you walk away…although, I’m sure that’s a sight I’d enjoy.” The boy’s eyes had grown ridiculously wide at the statement. Somehow, he managed to both pale and blush at the same time. Tony found that absolutely irresistible. “Go on. Take it. Something tells me your nerves could use a little alcohol.”

“I’m not old enough to drink.”

Tony laughed, “I won’t tell if you don’t, baby.”

The boy’s adam’s apple bobbed noticeably with a gulp as he took the flute of champagne and stared at it as if he was uncertain about what do with it.

“Go on. Put it against your lips, sweetheart. Open your mouth. Swallow. I promise, you’ll like it.”

Damn. The kid almost dropped the glass. It was only Tony’s quick response and the hand that had lingered within the boy’s personal space that kept the glass and it’s contents from hitting the floor. His cheeks were absolutely on fire now and Tony was loving every minute of it. “You want me to keep calling you by pet names, beautiful, or are you going to tell me your actual name?”

“Peter. Peter Parker.” Tony pressed the glass back into his hands and guided them up to press the lip of the glass against his mouth. Peter took a small sip, his nose crinkling at the bubbles and probably the taste of the champagne.

“How old are you, sweetheart?”

“Seventeen…” His answer was lost in the glass as he drained the contents on his second drink.

Tony glanced at his own glass and held it out to the kid. “Go on, baby, I’m nothing if not a generous lover.”

Peter coughed but took the glass and swallowed it’s contents in another quick gulp. Now holding two empty champagne flutes, he looked around nervously for something to do with them, and Tony graciously took both only to deposit them on a caterer’s tray.

“Who am I going to have to promote for bringing you here tonight, Peter? I thought this was going to be a complete waste of my time…but here you are like a princess from a fairy tale ready to bring a little magic to my night. I want to make sure your fairy godmother is adequately rewarded.”

“Does…does that make you Prince Charming in this scenario?”

“That is what I was going for, yeah. And don’t think you can avoid answering my question by distracting me with my analogy, dear. Who brought you?”

“No one. I mean…well…” Peter was stuttering and Tony was enjoying the hell out of it. Really, the kid couldn’t be any more adorable. He was ready to lead him to the executive elevator and blow off more than just this party. “No one you know? I…kind of…I’m crashing, I guess. I wasn’t really invited. Someone I know…kind of snuck me in.”

“Well, I consider myself a very lucky man then, Peter. Since you’re not here with anyone, it means I can steal you away without anyone noticing you’re gone.”

Peter was staring at Tony’s lips as he wet them with his tongue in a less than innocently suggestive way. He’d bridged the distance between them and slipped an arm around the boy’s waist with practiced ease, steering him towards the elevator bay. Peter allowed himself to be directed for several steps before he gave a little start and tried to pull away.

“I can’t. I have…something I need to do.”

“Something you need to do at a party you weren’t invited to?”

“Yeah? I mean, I didn’t just crash for shits and giggles, Mr. Stark.”

Tony stepped backward, clutching as his chest with both hands. “Did you just ‘Mr. Stark’ me? C’mon, beautiful, what the hell did I do to deserve that? Do I look like a Mr. Stark to you? Really? So many things I want you to call me tonight…that is not one of ‘em. Now, stop playing hard to get and let me show you a good time…I promise you won’t regret it.”

“No, Mr. Stark,” Again with that hideous moniker. Tony might have thought it was an innocent blunder, but there was a new fire in the kid’s eyes that had him a little surprised. “I have things I have to do…and you’re not nearly as charming as you think you are.”

Tony’s brows rose in surprise. The kid had spunk. God damn, that only made him want him more. “Oh, I don’t know, I think I’m pretty damn charming…”

“Not surprising.”

Tony cocked his head at the kid. “I’m digging your idea of foreplay, sweetheart, keep it coming.”

“What?!” Peter’s voice rose in octave and volume and several nearby people turned to look at them. Tony didn’t care, but Peter seemed to because he dropped his voice and stepped a little closer to Tony. “It’s not…it’s not foreplay, Mr. Stark. Geez…I have important things to do, okay? Way more important things than flirting or making out or…whatever you have in mind. I have to go and you have to leave me alone. You really, really have to leave me alone.”

Tony held up his hands in mock surrender. “If you can look me in the eye and tell me you don’t want me, I’ll let you go.”

“I don’t want you.”

“You’re looking me in the nose, Peter.”

“UGH! Why do have to come on so strong?! It’s so exhausting. Give it a rest. Gosh. Too much. It’s all too much. You’re too much. You’re not at a freaking night club. You know, I never understood how you got your bad reputation…but I kinda have to say that I’m seeing how the whole playboy thing came about and I gotta say…it’s accurate. I…I like the other you better.”

“Other me?” Now Tony was intrigued. “What ‘other me?’”

“Scientist, for one.”

Peter wanted the scientist over the playboy? Tony frowned. Damn. If Peter thought that was going to turn Tony off, he was dead wrong. The pretty package, the hard to get, the apparent love of science…Tony had no intention of letting this one get away. Peter was only succeeding in turning mild interest into full on infatuation. “Whatever you have to do can wait until after I’ve had my way with you in the elevator. The party’s not going anywhere.”

“The party’s not, but I am.” Peter’s tone was full of his exasperation at Tony and the situation. Turning around, he practically shoved his way through men that could have bought and sold entire American towns on a whim.

Tony was left chuckling to himself. Oh, his night had gone from boring to one of the best he’d had in ages…and he had no intentions of letting Peter Parker get away from him that easily.

This was going to be fun.

He loved a good chase.

@geekymarvel

#starker

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anogete · 6 years

Text

Sneak Peek #2 - Untitled Steve/Darcy WIP

I’m about 43,000 words in and have the remainder of the fic plotted out. It’ll probably end up being around 65,000-ish. I hope to have it done and ready for posting by mid-May. If you’re interested in reading a snippet from chapter 2, then read on. Forgive any typos or awkward shit. It hasn’t been through eyeballs other than mine.

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

"What? Say that again. You what?"

“Darcy,” he said, a warning in his voice.

“Captain fucking America took the quinjet for a little jaunt to Poland last night to buy me a packet of nicotine gum so I don’t murder someone. Did I get that right?”

He smiled and crossed his ankle over his knee. “Steve took the quinjet down to Poland to buy you nicotine gum.”

“What do I owe Steve, then?” Darcy asked, secretly hoping that this conversation was going to take a turn for the dirty like in some formulaic porn and he would tell her that she owed him a nice, long BJ before they fucked on her desk.

Unfortunately for Darcy, Steve was much too wholesome to do the nasty in her office. “Nothing,” he said.

“How much was it? Ten, twenty bucks?”

“Darcy, you don’t owe me anything. My treat. Really.”

“Aren’t you just the nicest guy ever,” she teased. He watched her as she opened the box and pushed one of the white squares out of the foil backing. Darcy popped it in her mouth and bit down. The gum had a sharp taste to it, layered with peppermint. Steve laughed softly as she grimaced and soldiered through, chewing it up and rolling it around on her tongue. “I’d ask you why Sharon dumped you, but I know that answer is because she’s a full on crazy bitch,” Darcy said.

This made him laugh a bit harder, but his gaze slipped away from her, landing on the wall and then the floor. And then the door. He didn’t really want to discuss Sharon. Where did blondie get off breaking Mr. Perfect’s heart?

“Sharon isn’t crazy. She… had her reasons,” Steve said.

“Hey, don’t sweat it. I can tell this isn’t your fav topic. Say no more.”

“No, it’s okay. It’s… fine. I’m, uh… it’s nice to actually have someone ask me about it to my face instead of whispering behind my back.”

“That bad?” Darcy asked.

“Mmm, yeah. Kinda obvious when I walk into the room and everyone gets quiet. I been keeping to my rooms lately. Last time I went to the mess hall everyone was watching me and her like we were going to have some fight in the middle of dinner or something.”

“She was cuddled up to Davey-boy?” Darcy asked.

He gave a short, dry laugh. “Uh, yeah. I guess.”

“Awk-ward.”

“Yeah, yeah. A little,” he said.

“God, that sucks. Working with your ex after a breakup. Good on you, man. I couldn’t do it,” Darcy replied, shaking her head and fiddling with the packet of gum.

“It’s, uh, a small community here,” he said.

“Yeah, for sure. Take it from someone who grew up in multiple places, some of which were small. Little towns have the most and the worst gossip. It can tear you down.”

“I feel like I felt when I was a kid--before I joined the army. Before… this.” Steve lifted his arms up and looked down at his body. Darcy couldn’t stop her eyes from flicking down to take in the way his T-shirt hugged his chest.

She licked her lips and said, “That sucks, Steve. I mean, the gossip, not… not your muscles.”

They both laughed at her awkward addendum. “Thanks, Darcy,” he finally said.

“What do you mean you feel like when you were a kid?”

He shrugged. “I feel like I’m… a loser or something. I feel like everyone pities me.”

“Trust me,” Darcy said, leaning forward. “No one pities you. I’m not really going out on a limb here when I say that every guy here wants to be you and every woman here wants to do you.”

He almost choked on an abrupt laugh as he turned his head away from her. He was so damn cute when he got bashful. “Uh, I don’t think so,” he said. “Being me isn’t that great.”

“Well, I’m not saying it’s a walk in the park, but I’m saying that most of those guys and some of those girls would switch places any day of the week.” Darcy looked down at the desk and then back up at him. His eyes were on her again and he looked pretty damn sad. “I’m sorry. That was insensitive, right? I don’t know you or what your life is like.”

He shook his head. “Nah, it’s okay. I ain’t upset about that.”

“So… what? Everyone thinks you’re pining over Sharon and they think that’s pathetic, right? Just show them that you’re not.”

“And how do I do that?”

“Talk to other women. Flirt. Take ‘em back to your place and blow their minds. Start your own gossip. Steve Rogers: orgasm giver extraordinaire.”

He blushed. Actually <i>blushed</i> and dropped his gaze before saying, “Darcy, come on. I can’t do that. Not my style.”

“What? Flirt with women?”

“Yeah.”

Darcy grinned as she thought of a most excellent way she could repay him for caring enough to fly to another country to buy stupid nicotine gum for her. “How do you feel about acting?” she asked.

He gave her a sidelong glance. “Acting? Like in a play?”

“Or in your life. How about you act like you’re interested in me and I’ll act like we’re banging.”

He turned to her and swallowed. She could see his Adam’s apple slide up his neck and then back down. “<i>What</i>?” Steve asked, sounding slightly scandalized and maybe a little intrigued.

“I’m just saying that we can flip the script, shake things up. Maybe make people talk about something other than you getting dumped. Everyone loves a little scandalous romance, especially if we play it up in front of them.”

“Wait, are you talking about us… acting like we’re dating?”

Darcy groaned and put her forehead on the desk. Lifting her head up, she leveled her gaze on him. “Keep up, Steve. Yes, I’m talking about you pretending you’re into me.”

“And you pretending we’re…”

“Boning,” she offered when he trailed off.

#shieldshock wip #steve/darcy #fic sneak peek #anogete

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ayma-nidiot · 4 years

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In the White Light - Prideshipping fic Chapter 9

Also on AO3.

Author’s note: This chapter will be the first of three in a Scandalshipping mini-arc, but it will start in modern-day Domino City.

Chapter 9 – You’re On!

“Uh, guys…” Tristan began to feel worried as he felt the building rumble under his feet. “Is it just me or is this an earthquake?”

“Oh no…” Kaiba turned around; already, the building behind him began to collapse.

“Oh yes!” Yami Yugi tried to look around for an escape route.

“You guys need to get out of here!” Still reeling from the duel, Rafael couldn’t get up by himself. “Especially you, pharaoh.”

“No, Rafael, I won’t leave you!” Yami Yugi declared as he helped Rafael get on his feet.

“And just how are we going to get out of here?” Kaiba snapped, not liking the funny stares Téa and Tristan gave him. “What, do I have something on my face?”

“No, but you do have some special powers.” Tristan chuckled.

“And an overinflated ego!” Téa taunted.

“Oh, I see what you’re trying to do! You think that just because I can turn into a dragon that I’m some sort of magic bullet?”

“Well, yeah,” Tristan admitted.

“Tch! This is why I hate working with you geeks!”

“Then you’re in luck.” Téa pointed to an oncoming chopper. “Because you’re not going to have to transform! That’s one of your choppers, right?”

Kaiba secretly breathed a sigh of relief as he ordered, “Come on, you dorks, get in!”

“But… what about the pharaoh? He and Rafael are still back there!”

After everyone already got in the chopper, Kaiba turned around to see Rafael dangling from a ledge.

“Mr. Kaiba!” The earthquake had nearly split Roland at the legs. “We need to leave, now!”

“Roland, fly the chopper over to where the pharaoh is.”

“Y-Yes sir!”

“Pharaoh!” Kaiba stood at the chopper’s stairs. “Grab my hand!”

Yami Yugi clenched his eyes and whispered, “Rafael… Forgive me,” before getting in, and soon, the chopper took off.

“What about him?” Téa asked.

“I… I couldn’t save him… He went down along with that building.”

“Pharaoh, I’m sorry.” Téa couldn’t offer anymore words and simply sat down.

“I’m sorry, too.” Kaiba spoke in a tone none of Yami Yugi’s friends had heard. He held him in consolation and wiped a tear away. “We’ll get vengeance when we find that… jerk, Dartz.”

Yami Yugi felt tempted to just stand there, letting Kaiba pat his head, but resisted. “However, he did give this to me. It looks to be a computer chip of some sort.”

“Let me take a look.” Kaiba took the chip and put it into his PDA. “This… It’s a map.”

“To where?” Tristan asked.

“Where do you think, Einstein? It’s obviously the location of Dartz’ lair!” Kaiba threw the PDA at Roland and ordered, “Hey, Roland, take us to the red dot specified on this map.”

Roland barely caught the PDA. “Y-You got it, Mr. Kaiba!”

“Whoa!” During their journey, the ride gradually got rougher as Mokuba barreled straight into Tristan. “Ouch… Sorry, man.”

“You got me right where it hurts…” Tristan winced as he took a seat, holding onto whatever he could for stability.

“Then you should have been sitting, you two!”

“Come on, have a little empathy, Téa.”

While the friends bickered, the chopper came to an abrupt halt. “Uh… Mr. Kaiba?”

“What’s the problem?”

“This map… It takes us right through… there.” Roland pointed a shaking finger at the storm up ahead. “It couldn’t be right, could it?”

“Just go,” Kaiba ordered.

“O-Okay…” When Kaiba returned to his seat, Roland mumbled. “Ugh, we don’t get paid enough for this.”

“What was that?” Kaiba continued to communicate through the microphone on his trench coat.

“Nothing, sir!”

“We’ve been flying for quite some time now; shouldn’t we be there already?”

“It’s the weather, sir! It’s unnatural!”

Yami Yugi stood up and braced himself against a window. “Don’t be afraid, everyone. I’m sure that considering our circumstances, Dartz wants us to find him.”

Mokuba alerted everyone to a spiral stone tower with a palace on top. “Hey, is that the place?”

“It seems that way,” Yami Yugi replied. “We can’t turn back now. We need to go and put an end to Dartz once and for all!”

“No need to be such a drama king,” Kaiba snarled as he got off the chopper.

“Joey…” Téa gave one last look to her friend before she exited with everyone else. “Wait right here… We will be back.”

“Maximillion Pegasus, I think you’ve got some competition…” Tristan didn’t like the vibes of the dungeon-like palace.

“I see what you mean.” Téa agreed. “Too many snakes for my liking.”

“If you’ve got time to complain, then you’ve got time to wait in the chopper with that other dweeb.” Kaiba stopped in his tracks. “If you’re not going to make yourselves useful, then get the hell out.”

“Kaiba, stop acting like you have to do everything yourself,” Yami Yugi cut in with a kinder tone. “Just this once, put aside your ego and understand that we can work better as a team.”

“W-Whatever, let’s just keep going.” Without looking at him, Kaiba continued to lead the others down a much drearier corridor.

“Hehehe… Looks like the mean ol’ Seto Kaiba will listen to at least one person, if that person is his boyfriend!” Tristan pestered.

“Tristan!”

“Oh come on, pharaoh, he was only playing.” Téa laughed, not feeling afraid of the palace, if only for a little while.

“Playing loudly enough for the monsters to hear!” Kaiba growled, swiftly turning in the direction of said monsters.

“M-Monsters!” The defenseless Téa, Tristan, and Mokuba immediately took off running.

“Wait, everyone!” Yami Yugi, not usually a fast runner, tried to catch up. “You don’t know what’s out there!”

“It’s okay!” Tristan continued to shout while he ran. “I borrowed Joey’s Duel Disk and deck! We’ll be fine!”

“We’ll go look for Dartz over here! We’ll catch up with you in a bit!” Téa yelled.

“Tristan… Téa…” Yami Yugi smiled while he prepped his own Duel Disk. “I can always count on you. Now, Alpha the Magnet Warrior, attack!”

“Yugi… These foes are not like what we faced at KaibaCorp.” Kaiba stepped back as the two were now surrounded on all sides. “Even my Assault Wyvern is no match. We need to find Dartz, and fast.”

“But how can we when there are monsters as far as the eye can see? As far as I know, there’s only one option!”

Kaiba stopped Yami Yugi at the first note. “No! If you used the incantation in a situation like this… Just leave it to me.”

“Do you mean…”

“I won’t need to transform for these monsters. They’re strong, but I think this card will take care of them just fine! Blue-Eyes White Dragon, unleash your White Lightning!”

“What am I, a damsel in distress?” Yami Yugi couldn’t help but chuckle as he summoned his Dark Magician. “So you’ve finally learned how to use the power of teamwork!”

“Don’t let it get to your head… Whoa!” Kaiba barrel rolled to avoid a pair of Curse of Dragons, and the Blue-Eyes fell them easily. His head still spinning from the roll, he had to squint at who attacked Yami Yugi next – a Magician of Black Chaos and an Amulet Dragon. “Yugi! Watch out!”

Kaiba was so far away that Yami Yugi couldn’t hear him, so with all the strength he had, he ran to the pharaoh while he continued to yell. “Yugi!”

“Kaiba? Are you all- Ah!” No sooner had Yami Yugi turned around when he found Kaiba splaying his arms – and wings – to protect him from the oncoming attacks. “Kaiba! Kaiba, no!”

“Son of a bitch…” Even though Kaiba’s dragon features were made of metal, they still bled. “Damn, that hurt.”

“No kidding!” Yami Yugi began to panic while trying to lift Kaiba to safety. “Come on, walk, man! We need to get you somewhere to heal.”

“But Dartz-”

“He can wait! Nursing you back to health is far more important! Oh!” Yami Yugi managed to find a doorless, spacious chamber. “Quick! In here, while our monsters hold them off!”

“…Just leave me be.” Even though he was weak now, Kaiba could still protest as Yami Yugi set him down on the floor.

“No, I’m going to help you, and that’s final!”

As soon as Yami Yugi shouted, the fighting outside got so intense that it started shaking the building, causing a quick avalanche of boulders at the would-be door. “Great, look at what your yelling did. Now we’re blocked in.”

“We’ll just wait for the others to come then. At least this way, I can keep you safe. Hey, look what I found!” Yami Yugi found a fully stocked first aid kit.

“You’re going to need a lot of gauze and alcohol. My wings are torn, and I can’t move my tail or feet.”

“Have you tried retracting them?”

“Yeah, but it hurts so much.”

“Then it’s a good thing I found this! Okay, take a deep breath,” Yami Yugi instructed as he applied rubbing alcohol to Kaiba’s wounds.

“SON OF A BITCH, YUGI!” Kaiba wailed as his wounds stung like fire.

“Goodness, is that your go-to expletive when you’re in pain?”

“Hey, don’t laugh at me like that! I’m injured!”

After Yami Yugi had wrapped Kaiba’s tail and feet in gauze, he continued. “Unfortunately, I can’t really wrap your wings in gauze, so I’ll just apply pressure until the bleeding stops. Hopefully you can retract them soon, so they don’t get infected.”

“Well, take as much time as you need.” The longer Kaiba smiled at the man he loved, the more embarrassed Yami Yugi got. Finally, after the bleeding had stopped, Kaiba spoke up. “You sure you don’t want to try to break out of here?”

“There’s no way I’m going to risk your safety if the others aren’t there to help.”

“You’re doing an awful lot for a man you don’t even love.”

Yami Yugi stammered, trying to change the subject. “Th-That reminds me! Since we’re stuck in here, you want to hear a story?”

“What kind of story?”

“A very old story, back from my reign as the pharaoh.”

Kaiba sat up, clearly intrigued. “That’s right… Sometimes I forget that you are one.”

“That’s right. And if you thought that what we learned during our first time travel was interesting, then you’ll like this.”

______________

~3000 years ago, ancient Egypt~

“Seto!” A commoner housewife attempted to look for her 13-year-old son. “Seto, get over here this instant! Gods, that boy…”

“You looking for this kid?” The woman’s carpenter husband pulled a young teenager by the ear.

“Ooooow! Okay, Dad, I’ll listen!” Seto rubbed his ear and pouted at his mother.

“Aren’t you a little old to be playing these games?”

Seto’s face suddenly lit up. “Mom, games are great! All the kids are doing it!”

“Don’t give me that sass, young man!” The woman cleared her throat. “Anyway, I didn’t call you just to have a debate about games. I just received a message from one of the royal guards. You’re being summoned to the palace for a ceremony.”

“Hmph.” Seto turned back around. “Not interested. The royal family bores me to tears.”

“How dare you talk that way about Pharaoh Aknamkanon!” The carpenter pulled his son’s ear again. “And besides, it’s not the pharaoh or his son that’s at the center of the ceremony… It’s you!”

“Oh?” Seto showed a sudden interest. “What, am I going to be named the next in line to the throne?”

“I don’t know, but we need to go now!” The carpenter whistled for his horse to come over, and before Seto could protest, his father had strapped the both of them on the horse. “We’ve been summoned an hour ago and we can’t be late! Hiyaa!”

“Whoaaaaaaa!” Seto enjoyed the fast-paced ride all the way to the palace. “Yeahahaha!”

A couple more royal guards stopped the horse at the palace entrance. A much older one, who wore garb similar to that of the royal family, came to greet them. “Ahem. You are Seto, are you not?”

“Huh? How do you know my name, old geezer?”

“Show more respect! You’re speaking to Priest Aknadin, one of the pharaoh’s high priests!” The carpenter turned back to Aknadin to apologize. “Forgive him, Your Eminence, he’s still a child. And a rowdy one at that, after we took him in.”

“Huh? Took me in?”

“We can talk more about this after the ceremony! Come this way; there’s no time!” Aknadin quickly led Seto to a changing room, where several servants awaited him. “Maids, Seto is here! Get him dressed for the ceremony immediately!”

“Yes, Your Eminence!”

“H-Hey, that hurts!” Seto complained as he felt a few sharp tugs on his shoulder-length hair. “And that bracelet’s too tight!”

“There!” One of the maids stepped back to look at Seto, now dressed in linen and gold. “Now you look like a real prince!”

“What does that mean?” Confused, Seto looked to the adults in the room, hoping one of them was smart enough to have answers. “Hey, where’s my dad?”

“I’m right here.” Aknadin came back in the room.

“So… Dad isn’t my real dad? Is that what you’re telling me?”

“That’s right. After your mother died giving you birth by herself, a distant relative of hers found you and raised you. I am not only your real father, but also a prince!” Aknadin proclaimed proudly as he began to walk out of the room. “Now come, my son, and accept your destiny as the right hand to Pharaoh Aknamkanon’s son!”

“No way!” Seto looked at the ground and started to cry. The dry Egyptian sun and air only made his headache worse. “After living my whole life as a commoner, raised by such hardworking parents… Now I’m suddenly a prince of Egypt? It’s… It’s too much! How do you expect me to just accept this ‘destiny’ without question?”

Aknadin couldn’t say any more as a boy about Seto’s age came running in. His hairstyle, with rose red ends and lightning-bolt bangs, certainly didn’t suggest that he was a commoner. “Hey, hey, Aknadin, who is this?”

“He’s my son, Seto, and he’s going to be your righthand man from now on. Now would you be a good child and lead him to the palace balcony, where the ceremony will be held?”

“You got it!” The bubbly child took Seto by the arm and began to pull.

“Hey, that hurts, you jerk!” Seto finally wrestled free after the boy stopped in a grand chamber, complete with every precious metal and jewel he could dream of.

“Aww, don’t be mean! I just wanted to show you something cool! Oh, and don’t wake Dad.”

“Wait, your dad? Do you mean the pharaoh?” Seto glimpsed over to an old man who slept on the bed nearby.

“So you finally figured it out, eh?”

“F-Forgive me! I feel like an idiot for calling Your Highness… something so crass as ‘jerk.’”

“Hee hee, that’s okay! Now come see, come see!” The crown prince tiptoed to the throne, holding his finger to his lips.

“What’s so important that you have to sneak into your old man’s room?” Seto clenched his teeth as he glanced quickly at the pharaoh – then to the crown prince, who held a pyramid-shaped… thing. At first he thought it was ordinary brick, but upon closer look, it turned out to be gold. “Oh wow… You could feed a village with this thing! Let’s sell it!”

“This is my dad’s most prized possession, the Millennium Pendant! It’s not just some heavy piece of gold you could sell. This pendant allows the pharaoh to use a powerful song that can drive evil spirits away.”

“Do you know any of the lyrics?”

“I know, like, one word. Dad refuses to teach me the rest of the lyrics. Says I haven’t ‘grown enough in wisdom…’ or something.” The crown prince sang a couple of notes, eliciting a few sparks of light from the Pendant. “Yeah, maybe I could roast a tiny, tiny piece of lamb with that. But that’s all I’m good for. That and playing games.”

“You like games?” Seto perked up as he usually did whenever he heard that word. “Like what kind?”

“Oh, you know, the usual… Hide-and-seek, sword fighting with branches, and the Shadow Games.”

“What are Shadow Games?”

“They’re these really scary, really cool games where people can battle to the death if they want!” The crown prince got up on a small table, spreading his short cape like dragon wings. “And they have real monsters, too! Don’t tell me you’ve never seen one!”

“I haven’t, actually.” Seto frowned. “I was raised by a common carpenter, remember?”

“Oh, uh…” The crown prince felt foolish now. “I… I’m sorry, I should have thought about that. I don’t really know what life is like outside the palace, since Dad almost never lets me go anywhere but my stuffy old room.”

“It’s a tough life, but it can be fun in its own way!” Seto started creeping over to the pharaoh’s bed and crumpled up a nearby sheet of papyrus. “In my village, we like to play pranks on the grown-ups.”

“Ooh, I’ve never dared to do anything like that here…” The crown prince crept over as he watched Seto’s next move with beaming eyes.

Seto giggled before throwing one of the papyrus balls at Aknamkanon’s head.

“Ngh… What?” The pharaoh began to slowly awaken, but promptly fell back to sleep when he noticed no one.

“Shh!” Seto ducked himself and the crown prince as the two snickered. “Here, why don’t you try?”

“Hehehee…” The crown prince could hardly contain his laughter as he threw a couple of papyrus balls.

“Begone, evil spirits!” Aknamkanon woke up more abruptly this time, but still found nothing – though now, he could hear the mouse-like squeaking of two teenage boys. “Hey! Get out of here, you street urchins!”

“Yoicks!” Four hands sprung out from the side of the bed. “Caught red-handed!”

“Atem? What are you doing down there?” Aknamkanon eyed his son warily.

“Atem?” Seto snickered. “Hahaha, what a funny name!”

“Oh? And who is this little imp? More importantly, why are you here without my permission?”

“He’s my new friend! And I’m here because you’re late for the Millennium Rod ceremony! Sleeping in as usual!”

“Son, have a bit of a heart for this old man,” Aknamkanon grabbed onto the nearby shelves as his son helped him get out of bed. “I find I don’t have as much energy as I used to these days. Now then, where is the young man who’s going to receive the Rod?”

“It’s this guy! You know, the ‘little imp?’” Atem got up and began to walk out. “I mean, if this little imp is still willing to.”

“You’re on!” Seto would soon find himself saying this phrase a few times every day. He hoped that when this ceremonial stuff was over, he and the crown prince would have plenty of time to teach each other about the very different worlds they were raised in.

#yugioh #prideshipping #ygo #kaiba x yami yugi #kaiba x atem #priest seto x atem #scandalshipping

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nh935 · 5 years

Text

Creepy America, Episode 10: Monolith

Creepy America

Episode 10

Monolith

Outside of Baton Rouge, Louisiana

I spent a lot of time looking at empty highways at night. That’s probably not too surprising to you, but in all honesty, you might be shocked to learn just how much time I stared at dark roads. Parked next to them, looking at them from outside the RV, driving over them. Heck, some nights I dreamed about them. There is no asphalt inch in this country I haven’t seen.

And spending so much time around something like that, you start to wonder. About the way the road is paved. About the foundational stuff underneath. I mean, think about: a road is designed to be ignored. It works best when the drivers forget it’s there. But in order to do that, hours upon hours of work is spent testing materials, planning curves, laying foundation, smoothing, paving, painting, tarring, all so that you can spend fifteen minutes on it getting from point A to point B and only worry about the cars around you.

That’s an easy thought to ignore during the day, when the asphalt is packed and traffic refuses to move. But at night, traveling down an eight-lane highway with absolutely no one in sight, you can’t help but marvel at the amount of effort spent into something so invisible.

When it comes to Creepy America, I can’t say I have all the answers. I don’t. But I have some answers. And one of them is the fact that we are not alone. Something built this universe. Or at the very least, maintains it. And much like the roads we drive on, their presence is designed to be invisible. We are supposed to ignore it, and we do, until we stop and think about the architecture left behind.

Things like the monolith, for instance.

***

I was sleeping in the passenger seat when Zoey slammed on the brakes so hard my head smashed into the dashboard.

“Son of a fucking bitch,” I swore. “Dammit. Dammitdammitdammit.”

“Oh shit, Liam!” Zoey whirled to face me from the driver’s seat. “I am so, so sorry.”

“What the hell was that about?!”

“I’m sorry, I just…” She pointed up a small grass hill, fifteen feet away from the side of the road.

There, reaching just above a long row of trees, was a gigantic, perfectly smooth, perfectly black pillar of obsidian.

***

We spent close to fifteen minutes just looking at the thing, leaning against the RV parked on the shoulder of the road and ignoring the blaring horns of pissed off drivers. Zoey had the privilege of watching it with unobstructed eyes. I was forced to continuously shift an ice bag around my face just to see.

Zoey looked at me and grimaced. “I’m really, really sorry.”

“It’s fine,” I replied. It wasn’t, but the less I thought about it, the less likely I was to get pissed.

Zoey returned to staring straight ahead, observing the long monolith in the distance. “What do you think it is?”

“Dunno,” I replied. “I’d be tempted to say it’s a cell tower, or the steeple to a church or something, but…”

“It’s too dark,” Zoey finished.

It was. Black is not the color of pure void, and this was pure void. If you’ve ever looked at a turned off monitor screen, then turned it on and looked at the deep gray caused by the monitor projecting black instead of just being black, you might have some idea of what I’m talking about. The structure had no shine. No light spots. No changes in coloration, at all, despite the fact that it was noon and the sun was right above it. It bordered on being a hole instead of an actual object, and despite the fact that I could move left to right and see the shape change slightly, indicating it was an actual three-dimensional mass, the lack of any features whatsoever made it seem like I was looking at a two-dimensional image.

It was beginning to give me a headache.

I rubbed my eyes and blinked for a bit. “Whatever it is, it’s not right. Actually…” I clenched and unclenched my fist, “it’s giving me the exact same vibes I felt looking at that ‘Worlds of Wonder’ painting.”

“Hmm…” Zoey went back to pondering the pillar as a semi blew past us, blaring its air horn the whole time.

“Up yours!” she shouted after it.

I rubbernecked around, watching all the speeding cars. “Do you think we’re the only ones who see it?”

“What makes you say that?”

“Well, no one else is stopping. Or even slowing down. They’re acting like it’s not even there.”

Zoey shook her head. “More likely they just don’t notice. Everyone here is trying to get home. They couldn’t care less about what’s beyond the trees, and those that do see it probably just write it off as a trick of the light. I almost did too, until I took a better look at it.”

I pressed the ice bag closer to my face. Despite my ever-burning curiosity, I almost wish she had.

“So what do we do?” I asked.

“Hop in,” Zoey commanded. “We’re going to find a place to park this where some idiot doesn’t side-swipe it, and then we’re investigating.”

***

Once we had found a space to pull over, we switched our normal responsibilities: Zoey held the big filming camera and I held the tiny little camcorder. The switch was one half because I couldn’t hold a camera and my ice bag at the same time and one half sympathy. Zoey really did feel bad about smashing my face in, and I had to remind myself of that with every meaty throb of my veins under the swollen area.

It wasn’t a long walk. Fifteen minutes at most. Once we had hiked up the small hill and moved past the trees, the tower was right there, sitting in a clearing like it was just a natural part of the scenery. As we got closer, the headache feeling intensified, as well as a sensation of dread.

We got right up next to it and studied it, Zoey moving around it one way and me the other. By itself, the monolith wasn’t anything too spectacular. It was about ten feet on each side and thirty, maybe forty feet tall. The sides ran straight up until the very top, where they closed together at a point, obelisk style. Not ordinary architecture, especially off the highway in the middle of the woods. Certainly head-scratching. But not necessarily paranormal by itself.

That was, until you examined the material closely.

The pure voidness of it refused to let up. Shining our phone flashlights on it made no difference; the substance just seemed to swallow up the light itself. And no matter how hard either of us squinted or zoomed in with the camera, no detail of any kind presented itself on the surface.

Feeling the structure was… weird. I really don’t know how else to describe it. You could put your hand right up to it and touch it, and it felt cold but not quite cold. Like sticking a gloved hand in ice water. You could feel the chill emanating from the substance but it didn’t really stick to you, the way your hand might stay frigid after grabbing a frozen piece of metal.

It also felt soft. Like clay. And you could squish your hand down and feel the walls give way, just a tiny bit, and feel your hand sink just slightly. But your hand wouldn’t actually move. According to your eyes, at least. And your body can tell when your senses are not communicating the same thing, even if it’s just by a little bit like that. It was incredibly disorienting and made my head hurt even more.

As I scrunched my fingers up and down, hating the way I couldn’t see them wiggle, I heard an abrupt “woAH!” from the other side of monolith.

“Zoey!” I ran around to the other side of the structure.

Zoey wasn’t there.

I panicked for a second until Zoey stuck her head out of the monolith. Like, outside of. The top half of her torso and her head was visible, but it ended in black space, like her body was just cut in half and glued into the side.

“I think I found a way in,” she said, offering her hand to me. I grabbed it and we slowly walked forward, into the darkness inside.

The space entered into appeared to be a narrow hallway. Appeared to be, because I couldn’t see. It was darker than pitch black in there. But my sense of touch still worked; I could feel the walls on either side of me brush against my arms as I moved. It also seemed to slowly slope downwards, continuing straight on for quite some time. We walked for almost a minute straight until Zoey stopped.

“What is it?” I asked.

“We’ve been walking for quite some time,” she replied.

“So?”

“The monolith was only ten feet wide.”

I blinked, the action making no difference in the dark. Zoey was right. We were walking a downgrade, but it was a very slight one. According to the normal laws of space, we should have walked right out of the other side by now, or at least bump up against the opposite wall.

I gripped Zoey’s hand slightly tighter. “Do you want to head back?”

“No,” she almost whispered back. “I think I can see something up ahead.” She continued, with me following behind, until a bright white light appeared in front of us, just as abruptly as the darkness had swallowed us. Squinting, we inched forward until our vision cleared.

We were standing on top of a large outcropping of red rock, several hundred feet off the ground. Below us, hard desert stone stretched out until the horizon, and above us was a twilight sky, dark blue with slight purple clouds.

“Where the hell are we?” Zoey wondered.

I took out my phone and opened Maps. “Arizona, apparently.”

“How?” She backtracked the way we had just came. There, in the ground, was a slight ramp set into the rock, leading downward. She started to walk down it, then stopped and held her hand backwards for me to grasp.

I grabbed on, and we moved forward, back down, into the blind hallway. We walked for almost a minute straight, until the white light once again appeared and we stumbled back out into the forest clearing outside the monolith, bright sun and humid Louisiana air surrounding us.

Zoey looked back at me with pure confusion. “Did you feel like you just walked across the country?”

“No,” I confirmed. “Maybe a quarter mile at most.”

“And we went down both times.”

“Hang on, let’s go back for a second.” I grabbed her hand and took the lead this time, continuing on until white light, then Arizona desert.

“I am so lost,” Zoey said, looking down at the rocky floor miles beneath us.

“Non-euclidean geometry,” I marveled.

“What?”

“Multi-dimensional space. It’s something I’ve been thinking about ever since the Hotel California. Areas of the world separated from us through angles we can’t normally access.”

Zoey whistled and moved her hand above her, a gesture she gave me sometimes for over my head.

“Look, like this.” I took my foot and drew a stick person in the dust on the rock. “If this guy was alive, all he could see would be the area of this flat rock. He’d believe that this flat surface was all there was, when in reality, there’s all this area out here.” I gestured wildly with my hands. “This is extra-dimensional space, and this… whatever it is, uses that space as a shortcut.”

Zoey rubbed her temples. “Hang on, so you’re telling me that there’s this… secret area, that’s all around us, and we just can’t see it?”

“And time, too. We only exist in three dimensions of space and one dimension of time, but physicists think that there’s many more dimensions of each out there that we simply can’t comprehend.”

“Plain English, please,” Zoey groaned.

I sighed. “There are secret pockets of space, and there are secret pockets of time. Things like ‘Worlds of Wonder’ and the hallway inside that monolith, they exist in the secret space pockets. Things like the Hotel California and the Alone place, they exist in secret time pockets. At least, that’s my theory.”

“Cool. I’m going to pretend that I understood any of that.”

“Okay, imagine that…”

WHIIIIIRRR

My new explanation was interrupted by a strange sound, somewhere between the rustle of paper and the hum of an engine. Turning towards the noise, I watched as a small, squat terminal unfolded itself into existence. Literally unfolded itself, like an accordion or an origami piece.

Zoey and I looked at each other, then approached it.

It was the same pure black as the monolith. The surface looked and felt identical, and it still had that strange pliable-but-not aspect to it. But this time, there were glowing green letters set into the bottom of it, into a space that jutted outwards at an angle. The letters themselves were an English alphabet and arranged in the shape of a computer keyboard, but in the order of ‘a, b, c, d…” instead of the regular “qwerty” configuration. Other than that, it seemed every other key was identical in placement, including things like ‘enter,’ ‘space,’ and all the punctuation marks.

As we stared at the letters, the area above it, the ‘screen,’ began to scroll large, green text across it:

>WONDERLAND ACCESS TERMINAL 17-IV

>PRESS ANY KEY TO CONTINUE

I reached down and hit the enter key. The text cleared, and new words appeared to replace it.

>WELCOME _LENG_ RESIDENT

>PLEASE INPUT ADMIN PASSWORD, OR PRESS ‘ESC’ TO CONTINUE AS GUEST

I stared at the message for a minute, then hit escape.

>CONTINUING IN GUEST MODE…

The screen then wiped itself back to black, with only a ‘>’ and a blinking underscore on the screen.

I glanced at Zoey. Zoey just shrugged and gestured to the screen, as if to say all yours.

I thought for a moment, then inputted ‘/help’

>ERROR

>COMMAND ‘HELP’ NOT RECOGNIZED

I scratched my head, then typed in ‘/commands’

>COMMANDS:

>SCAN

>EDIT

>FORM

>ACCESS

“Now we’re getting somewhere,” I muttered. I keyed in ‘/scan’ and waited.

>ERROR

>PARAMETER NOT SPECIFIED FOR COMMAND ‘SCAN’

>PLEASE INPUT A PARAMETER:

>KEYSTONE

>SPHERE 1

>SPHERE 2

>SPHERE 3

>SPHERE 4

>LORIAN

>ANOMALOUS II

>ANOMALOUS III

>ANOMALOUS IV *CURRENT TERMINAL LOCATION*

>ANOMALOUS VI

>*NOTICE* ALL REALM SCANS ARE RESTRICTED TO ADMIN ACCESS ONLY

“Huh.” I spent some time hunting for keys, unused to the strange configuration of the letters, until I managed to type ‘/scan anomalous iv.’

>ANOMALOUS IV STATUS

>SLAVED STATUS: Y

>SLAVED TO: S3

>STABILITY: +-21 SC

>HEALTH: GOOD

>AGE: 2000015R KM

>PROJECTED FUTURE PATH: HARVESTING IN T-34289R KM

>ACCESS TUNNELS: GUARDED AND CLOSED

“Do you understand any of this?” Zoey asked me.

“Not a word.” I hunt-and-pecked again to spell out ‘/edit.’

>ERROR

>VARIABLE NOT SPECIFIED FOR COMMAND ‘EDIT’

>PLEASE SPECIFY A VARIABLE:

>SPACE

>TIME

>ELECTROMAGNETISM

>MASS

>FORCES

>*NOTICE* ALL OTHER COSMOLOGICAL CONSTANTS RESTRICTED TO ADMIN ACCESS ONLY

Zoey’s eyes widened. “Now those I do understand. You don’t think…”

I scoffed and said “can’t be,” as I typed in ‘/edit time.’

>WARNING: ALL TIME EDITS INPUTTED INTO GUEST MODE WILL BE LOCALIZED TO USER ONLY.

>TO EDIT UNIVERSAL TIME SCALE, PLEASE INPUT ADMIN PASSWORD NOW

>TO CONTINUE IN GUEST MODE, PRESS ‘ESC’

>*NOTICE* TO ACCESS KM TIME ARCHIVES, PLEASE USE ‘ACCESS’ COMMAND

“C’mon, get to the good stuff already,” I muttered as I hit the escape key.

>INPUT NEW TIME FRAME

>PLEASE USE GREENWICH MILITARY TIME IN FOLLOWING FORMAT:

>DAY:MONTH:YEAR;;TIME:SECOND

>*CURRENT TIME: 31:1:2020;;0600:27*, the last number slowly counting upwards.

I stopped for a second, then pulled out my phone. “Last Tuesday would be the 21st. And… just midnight, I guess?” I carefully inputted in ‘21:1:2016;;000:00’, then hit enter and stepped back.

Both Zoey and I looked to the sky. Nothing changed. There was no sudden movement of sun and stars, and the heavens stayed at a peaceful twilight.

Just to make sure, I checked my phone. It still read ‘8:05 am.’

I sighed. “Well, that was a…”

Zoey gasped, interrupting me. “Liam, your face!”

I stopped and touched my forehead, then pressed down against it. It wasn’t sore anymore. More than that, it didn’t feel bruised or swollen.

I pulled my phone back out and turned on the front camera; sure enough, the damage done by slamming my face into the dashboard was gone.

I was stunned. “No way…”

“Put in two weeks ago, the 8th, at 9 pm!” Zoey demanded.

I looked up some information on Google and did some mental calculations, before typing in ‘9:1:2016;;1700:00, enter’

I stepped away and immediately vomited.

“Holy crap,” Zoey said, watching me retch. “That’s when you had that really bad food poisoning from that gas station burger, remember?”

“I remember now.” I tried to stagger back to the terminal, then bent over and threw up again. “Fuck, Zoey please turn it back.”

“Oh shit!” She ran to the terminal. “What do I put in?”

“29, colon, one, colon, 20… HUGH!, 2016, semicolon… hang on, they’re H-HUGH! Eight hours ahead… sixteen five colon zero zero.”

With painfully slow button presses, she inputted the numbers and hit enter, then turned around to face me. “Better?”

I opened my mouth to say something, then yelled in pain. “OW! Fuckfuckfuck!”

She ran over to me. “Liam!”

“The terminal!” I growled.

“Right!” She moved back to the screen, then typed another string of numbers.

The burning, agonizing pain stopped, replaced by a sensation of dull thudding.

Zoey gave me a sheepish smile. “Put in fifteen instead of sixteen. An hour ago. Which was…”

“...when you slammed my head into the fucking dashboard.” I shoved her aside, somewhat violently, and inputted ‘21:1:2016;;000:00’ once again, then typed ‘/back.’

I took a few seconds to enjoy the feeling of an undamaged, un-puking face, then stared daggers at Zoey. “Let’s not touch it anymore, okay?”

“A-alright.” We stared at the object in silence for a while.

“So that thing works regardless of what’s actually happening, huh?” Zoey finally spoke.

“Seems like.”

“Who do you think built it?”

I pondered the welcoming message for a bit. “Wonderland access terminal,” I muttered under my breath. “Wonderland. Wonderland. Worlds of…”

Something clicked in my head. “Hey Zoey, you don’t think…”

All of sudden, the rock plateau we were standing on began to violently shake back and forth.

“E-earthq-quake?” Zoey stammered.

I stumbled over to the terminal. The screen was flashing on and off, rapidly scrolling a new message:

>WARNING: UNAUTHORIZED USER _FADED_ DETECTED

>LOCKING TERMINAL IN 0...

>TERMINAL LOCKED

>SENDING ALL DETECTED USERS TO HOME REALMS:

>LENG

>HELL

>THE FADE

>THE DARK

“Something’s gone wrong with the terminal!” I shouted. The plateau snapped in half between us with a mighty “CRACK!” and began to fall apart. I tried to run forward to the other side and grab Zoey’s outstretched hand, but the sides were already moving apart. My stomach sank as I flew backwards and fell down, down, down, until a soft blue light overtook me.

***

Gradually, I could feel my consciousness return. I struggled, and, after a moment, succeeded in opening my eyes.

I was lying face up in a jungle of some kind. I could see tall blue-green ferns wave over me, and above them, silver and indigo palm trees sway in the wind. I smelled salt water, and felt silky sand underneath me. I took a few moments to lay in the soft ground, watching a large, blue planet slowly move through the night sky.

My eyes shot wide as I realized where I was. “Oh no.”

“I think I heard it over here!” a voice shouted. I scrambled to my feet and turned to face the direction it came from as a thin, gaunt man in a tattered three-piece suit crashed through the brush and came into view.

Greg Thornstein reeled back in surprise, then glared at me. “You…”

“Greg, listen to me. I escaped from ‘Worlds of Wonder.’ I can help…”

“WE HAD TO EAT ANNE BECAUSE OF YOU, YOU MOTHERFUCKER!” Greg whipped out a long, sharpened branch at me and jabbed it straight for my face. I lunged back just in time to keep it from impaling me, then turned and ran deeper into the jungle.

“IT’S LIAM!” the furious voice of Greg screamed.

Loud, surprised Spanish responded.

“YES, THAT LIAM!”

I kept running, leaping over fallen palms and boulders, until my foot snagged on a log and I fell on my face. Hearing running footsteps behind me, I scrambled under the log and held my breath inside of my burning lungs, not daring to move or make a sound.

Four sets of feet landed in front of my face, then stopped.

“Where is he?” a female voice asked.

“Somewhere,” Greg said.

“Thought he’d escaped this place,” another man said.

“He tricked us,” Greg fumed. “He’s been here this whole time. And he wasn’t skinny.”

He thunked his improvised spear so hard into the ground I almost shouted in surprise, revealing my hiding place. “Find him! Alive! First we make him tell us where he hid his food, then we put him on the bonfire!”

The feet split away into different directions. I stayed under the tree, cowering, until a soft red light slowly covered my vision.

***

The sound of howling wind hit my ears before my sight returned. Once it did, I staggered back.

I was on the edge of a large cliff, close to fifty feet tall. Laid out in front of me was a burning, red landscape, with roaring infernos the size of houses dotting the planes and gigantic, broken siege weaponry scattered about: catapults the size of buildings, battering rams built like buses, and even more strange and brutal pieces with functions I could only guess at. As for how far it continued for, I couldn’t tell. The color of both the sky and the ground were the exact same shade of crimson, making it impossible to determine when one began and another ended.

As I backpedaled, my foot hit something and I fell onto my back, face upturned to the sky. But instead of the deep red I had seen earlier, this section was a beautiful purple and pink sunset, with long, feathery clouds painted along it. I got up and looked around to the scene set upon this elevated space: a large Spanish mission house, with an empty parking lot set in front of it, and a marvelous blue neon sign raised above carefully tended palm trees.

“The Hotel California?” I asked in awe.

Squealing sounded from my left, and I dove behind a nicely trimmed bush nearby, then peered out over it. The huge and wiry figure of the Captain had one of the large, bleeding, and struggling boars slung across his back with ropes, carrying it to a metal-plated tank of a vehicle with wicked spikes of iron and a bladed front end. As he did, Mr. Barrows, the graying black receptionist, was talking to another man I didn’t recognize, a thin person with curly blond hair and blue eyes wearing a black suit with a red tie.

“I apologize about the condition of this one, Mr. Faust,” Barrows almost babbled. “The guests have been rather combative as of late.”

“So these aren’t the result of attempted murder?” the other man asked. “Perhaps a misguided shot at a mercy killing?”

Barrows gulped. “O-of course not. I would never even attempt something l-like that.”

“And I should also ignore the rumors that you’ve been rather lenient with your check-out times?”

“Sir, you… you know me better than that.”

Without warning, the man took his slender cane and knocked out the legs of Barrows, falling him over to the ground face-up. He then pressed the end of the cane right into the small of his neck and gently leaned on it.

“I brought you here to collect, not entertain,” the man said. “Start telling some of these ‘guests,’ as you call them, that they’ve worn out their welcome. Or I’ll take out the deficit on you.”

THUMP. “Liam!”

I turned to my right. Zoey was pressed against a glass window pane, eyes wide with panic.

I ran up to the window. “Zoey! Zoey, are you okay?”

“Liam, we’re in the Hotel California!” she yelled, voice muffled.

“Where else have you been?”

Zoey frowned. “Where else?”

A loud BAM! sounded from behind her. She turned around and gasped, then looked back at me and yelled “come find me inside!” and dashed out of view.

Behind her, the lumbering, greasy form of the Night Man hurried after her.

I tried to follow, but I slipped and fell, my vision going gray.

***

This time, it was the sensation of clammy, cold air that hit my senses first.

I saw a forest. A large, foggy forest. It was so thick that I could only see about fifteen feet in front of me before the trees disappeared. And the trees themselves were strange, less trees and more long black sticks bereft of branches with white lines slashed across the trunks, stretching so high they disappeared and melding into black dirt tangled with long, spindly roots.

I walked forward, trying to find some kind of bearing. Around me, I could hear sounds: chittering, clicking, crying, laughing. Some sounded far off. Others appeared so close to me that I would jump away in terror, scrambling away from the source before I learned what it was. And each time I did, I lost my position in the fog.

Eventually, I found a two-lane, crumbling asphalt road, and on the other side, a large plastic shelter with a bench: a bus station. Large colored rectangles hung from the walls of the structure and as I stepped inside, I realized that they were posters, each advertising a different attraction:

“Come see the Museum of Modern Living, off of exit 178, the world’s largest collection of carefully curated and preserved suicides, exhibited for your viewing pleasure.”

“WANTED: New tenant for A Town Called Hate. Rent 5,000 a month. Attendance with live lynchings, Sunday mass required. No pets.”

“JAKE-JAKE’S CIRCUS OF HORROR, NEXT LEFT. FAN-TABULOUS SHOWS, HAIR-RAISING RIDES, LIVE EXECUTIONS!”

“Fetch Manor, now open to the public. Come for the company, stay to be dinner!”

And one that simply said: “L A UGH. you KNOW you want to.”

I sat on the bench, shivering, whimpering, trying to figure out where the hell I was or what was going on. But no answers came. So instead I just sat there, trying to keep myself warm and letting shock settle in.

A blackness began to overtake my eyes.

“Oh no.” I jumped off the bench. “Oh no no no. You can’t. I can’t go another level deeper.”

I sat there and willed the darkness back. For a second, it worked. The tunneling of my vision stayed at the edges of my eyes. But then it began to inch ahead, slowly closing over the world. I tried and tried, but the dark just kept pushing, and pushing, and pushing and soon, I couldn’t see at all.

***

It was black.

I tried opening my eyes. They were open. I reached out my hands. Nothing. They swished through empty air. My ears rang with empty silence. My skin bristled with an absolute lack of temperature difference.

The only sensation I felt was the solidness of something under my feet, so I clung to that. I stepped on it. I put my weight on one foot, and then the other. I kicked at it with the flat of my heel. There wasn’t much to be gained from it; it felt solid, and that was it. It didn’t even make a sound. But it was the only thing that existed, so I kept on doing it, taking small steps in random directions.

Something red flickered into existence about a hundred feet ahead of me. I shouted with excitement and ran to it, then stopped as the object got close enough for me to see their shape:

The unmistakable outline of two Red Eyes.

I stopped, but they kept getting bigger. It was moving towards me. I backpedaled away, needing to run but afraid to turn around and lose the only reference point I had. It picked up speed, and I screamed.

The thunderous roar of an unseen beast answered back.

My fear overtook me and I shut my eyes tight.

***

I felt a small, warm breeze on my skin, so I cautiously opened my eyes.

Sunshine, green trees, grass, blue sky: I was back on earth. More specifically, I was back to the clearing where the monolith was. I could see it, right in front of me: all thirty feet of that damnable blackness. But I turned away from it to run down the hill, back to the highway and back to our RV lying just past the treeline…

I stopped cold.

The cars were still. Stuck in place and not moving. Nobody was in sight.

I was Alone, and that only meant one thing…

OOOOHHH LIIIIAAAAMMM….

I squeezed my eyes shut and held my breath. There was a flap of wings beside me, a sigh, and a blow right to my temples, forcing my eyes open and causing me to fall backwards, face up and see the hoodie-cloaked figure of Sam standing over me, tiny white eyes and glowing smile visible behind the dark void of his hood.

THAT’S NOT GONNA WORK, LIAM MY BOY, it spoke in it’s strange, echo-y voice. YOU’VE BEEN BAPTIZED. YOUR IMAGE IS NOW MINE.

“How…”

AM I HERE? ARE YOU BACK? DOES THE WORLD TURN? It’s impossible large grin twisted just a bit wider. MR. WONDERLAND’S ACCESS TUNNELS AREN’T AS GUARDED AS HE THINKS THEY ARE. HE HAS YET TO REALIZE THAT A RAT CAN GO ANYWHERE IT WANTS.

“What’s going on?!” I demanded, feeling my anger rise. “What did you do?!”

It slapped me. I could feel razor-like claws trailing from his fingers slash my check with shallow, stinging cuts.

OH I DO SO LOVE IT WHEN THEY HAVE SOME FIGHT TO THEM! It leaned down next to my face, then stopped and shaked his head, grin fading into a confused expression.

Then it smiled again.

THIS ISN’T ME. BLAME THE WONDER-MAN. HIS MAGIC MACHINE TRIED TO SEND ALL THE LITTLE PIGGIES HOME. BUT MY SLUTTY LITTLE LIAM HAS BEEN KISSED BY TOO MANY SAILORS TO REMEMBER WHERE HOME IS, SO IT SENT YOU A-BACKPEDDLIN’.

It reached down and caressed my hair with its fingers. I tried to squirm away from his touch, but at this point he was on top of me, trapping me on the ground. WHEN I SAW MY POOR, HELPLESS DISCIPLE STUCK SPINNING THROUGH THE REALMS, I CAME TO RESCUE HIM, BECAUSE I PROMISED TO ALWAYS BE THERE FOR HIM. AND I CAN RESCUE HIM TOO, AS LONG AS HE ACCEPTS MY PENTECOST...

“Get away from me, you freak!”

It reeled back, grin transforming into a scowl and eyes down turning into an angry glare. FINE. LET’S SEE IF YOU’RE A LITTLE MORE AGREEABLE ON THE NEXT GO-AROUND. It pushed me, and somehow I dropped backwards, through the dirt ground beneath me, falling endlessly until a blue light fogged over my sight.

***

I landed with a THUD into a pile of ferns, groaning. I struggled to my feet, gripping a silver palm for support, before I took a look at the night sky filled with blue planet and tried to figure out where to go next.

“There you is.” A whoosh sounded next to me and I instinctively ducked under another homemade spear, moving backwards with the movement to face my attacker. It was Tom, the skinny man in camo, holding the sharpened branch at me.

I held out my hands in a gesture of surrender. “Please, just listen to me…”

“We done listen’ to you,” he said, jabbing the stick backwards. “You took our advice, you stocked up on food, you pulled some magician shit, and you been livin’ out here like a king ever since.”

“No Tom, I escaped. I know how to get out, and I can get you out too if you just let me.”

“Then why haven’t you?!” His demeanor intensified and the jabs became more forceful and violent. It was easy to side-step each swipe from the starved and feeble man, and a dim part of my head realized that I was getting better at being attacked.

“Over here!” another voice shouted from deeper in the jungle, and followed by shout in Spanish. Realizing I couldn’t outfight the whole group, no matter how weak they were, I turned and ran, breaking through the treeline and sprinting across the white-sand beach and into the ice-cold water. Once I was hip-deep, I glanced behind my shoulder to see how close behind they were.

They were all standing at the edge of the water, watching me with a mixture of fear and excitement.

Cold, hard teeth clamped around my leg and pulled me under. I forced my eyes to open in the stinging salt water and saw one of the dolphins grabbed onto my ankle. It let go and issued a strange click-tocking sound, then swam forward, mouth-open, lunging for my face.

I grabbed both ends of the creatures’ jaws, forcing them open even as the sharp metal teeth set inside sliced into my hands. It jerked in a strange, non-organic way, and the water around my ears filled with a gggrrrriiiinnnddddggggrrrriiiinnnndddding.

There was a sudden jab at my hip. Through the bubbles caused by our struggle, I saw another dolphin poking me with his nose on my left, and another one swimming towards me on my right. I panicked, until a soft red appeared at the edge of my eyes.

For once, I tried to force it along, letting the color fill my vision and surrendering to the sensation.

***

The red cleared as my head hit a soft surface. I blinked away the pain and sat up.

I was in a hotel room: two beds, a writing desk, a chair, gold and black carpet with white walls and a window revealing a beautiful sunset. I struggled to sit up and as I did, cold salt water ran off of my body and soaked the floor beneath me.

I felt my foot kicked something. Looking down, I saw my camcorder.

“How did you…” I wondered out loud. I opened it up, watching the screen indicate that the device was fine even as water droplets clung to the surface. “Of course. Does Zoey buy anything that isn’t waterproof?”

I heard the door to my room SLAM shut. I whirled to the source and saw Zoey, panting, out of breath, braced up against the room door with her back to it.

“Liam!” She started to move towards me, but a sudden BANGBANGBANG forced her to lean against the door harder.

I got up and moved over to her instead. “Zoey! Are you okay?”

“Yeah, what about you?” She looked me up and down. “What the hell happened to you?”

“Worlds of Wonder. I went back there. And here. And two more places I don’t recognize.”

Her eyes widened. “Same here. I’ve been here and… somewhere, that was really dark.”

“I went there too.”

Something that sounded like the roar of a shotgun blast rang out in the hallway beyond, followed by pained squealing and running footsteps.

“What do we do, Liam?” Zoey asked, the panicked adrenaline in her voice replaced with a hushed fear.

“I… we’ll figure out something, right?” I tried to assure her. “We always do.”

“How? With what?”

I started to say something, then stopped. “I might have a plan...”

“Good!”

“...but I don’t like it.”

Something slammed into the door hard enough to cause it to buckle, and Zoey threw her weight on it again. “I don’t think we’re in the position to choose here.”

I felt my stomach drop a bit. “Are you sure?”

“Whatever it is, do it!” The terror in her eyes was undeniable.

I sighed, closed my eyes, and yelled, “ALRIGHT SAM, I’M READY!”

And immediately, his voice was in my ear: READY FOR A PENTECOST?

I winced and slowly opened my eyes. I was back on Earth, in America, in Louisiana, in the middle of a four lane highway, abandoned cars spread across its length.

“Yeah Sam.” My voice was trembling. “Ready for a Pentecost.”

That sickly green hoodie came into view again and the black empty that was his face came right next to mine, eyes large and bright and grin twisting ever higher. He reached a hand forward…

“STOP!”

He withdrew as if he had been slapped.

“I… I have one condition. You have to bring Zoey here.”

Its smile returned. SO MY DISCIPLE HAS FOUND A PLAYTHING OF HIS OWN. DELICIOUS… Two large, shadowy wings unfolded from behind him and enveloped his body entirely. After a moment, the whole black mass dispersed away, like a cloud of smoke, leaving me alone.

I fumbled out my phone and pulled up Zoey on Messenger, writing out a text:

“When I say run, run for the monolith.”

Then I put it away and prayed to whoever was listening that the assumptions I was making about this place were accurate.

A moment later, the sound of flapping wings sounded from behind me. I turned and saw Zoey, Sam standing behind her. CONDITION MET.

I backed away slowly, eyes locked on Zoey. “Wait, just… just one more…”

NO MORE WAITING. He took one large, menacing step forward. IT IS TIME TO BE FILLED WITH THE UNHOLY SPIRIT LIAM…

Zoey’s eyes flashed downwards to her pocket. She pulled her phone out, stared at it, then looked at me and nodded.

I stopped moving. “Alright Sam, but… can I just say one thing first?”

He stopped and cocked his head sideways.

“RUN!” I bolted backwards, towards the woods and up the hill. I heard Zoey’s footsteps behind me.

And behind that, an inhuman scream of rage.

“What… are we…” Zoey wheezed.

“Inside the monolith,” I said. “Back to the terminal. And we need to slow him down.”

“How?”

I gritted my teeth. “Don’t know. It’s why I hate this plan.”

HOW DARE YOU REJECT YOUR SAVIOR! Sam’s voice shouted from above us. I heard another leathery flap before the wind began to whistle, emulating the sound of a kamikaze bomber.

Zoey grabbed a nearby branch and swung it behind her, at Sam. “Get the hell out of here!”

The branch hit the bulk of his body, bouncing away harmlessly. But he landed on the ground and stood still, putting his arms out in a posture of surrender. BE NICE, HONEY. LISTEN. Once he said that, he crouched and began to beat on his head with the meat of his palms. NO, NOT CONNIE. THE PIPER OF TUCSON WAS PAID. THIS IS ZOEY. LIAM. SHUT UP!

Zoey and I watched him until he disappeared behind the tree line we were running past.

“What the hell was that?” Zoey asked me.

“Don’t know, don’t care.” I grabbed Zoey’s hand and dived into the side of the monolith.

We were plunged back into that dark, narrow hallway. I picked up speed and forced Zoey along with me, tripping once or twice on the downgrade. A few moments later, the sight of a tiny white dot on the horizon suddenly zoomed forward and surrounded us, then disappeared to give way to the Arizona open sky and raised rock platform.

I ran over to the terminal as it WHIIIIRR-unfolded itself into existence again. “Stall him if you can!”

“O-okay.” Zoey planted her feet in front of the slope placed into the rock.

I moved back to the screen and typed in “/edit time.”

>WARNING: ALL TIME EDITS INPUTTED INTO GUEST MODE WILL BE LOCALIZED TO USER ONLY.

>TO EDIT UNIVERSAL TIME SCA…

“I know, I know,” I muttered, hitting ‘esc’ before the message could be fully displayed.

COME BACK HERE. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw the white circles of Sam’s eyes peering out from the darkness of the hallway.

“Why are you doing this?!” Zoey yelled at him.

BECAUSE IT IS SO MUCH FUN IT IS MORE FUN THAN KILLING WILD GAME IN THE NONONONONONONONO! FOCUS! The large dots grimaced in anger and backed up a tiny bit.

“Questions,” Zoey mumbled. “Alright then.”

I turned back to the terminal:

>INPUT NEW TIME FRAME

>PLEASE USE GREENWICH MILITARY TIME IN FOLLOWING FORMAT:

>DAY:MONTH:YEAR;;TIME:SECOND

>*CURRENT TIME: 31:1:2020;;0601:32*

>NOTICE: TIME SCALE IS CURRENTLY PAUSED. TO UNPAUSE TIME SCALE, USE COMMAND ‘PLAY-(DESIRED TIME FRAME)’

“I knew it!” I hissed. I ran my fingers over the keys, inputting ‘/play-31:1:2020;;0601:32’, then stepping next to Zoey. “Go to the terminal, hit enter.”

She hesitated.

“I’ll be right behind you. Go!”

She ran back and smacked the keyboard. Once she had, her body faded away into the air.

LIAM, I’M VERY CROSS WITH YOU… Sam yelled from the hallway, close enough now to see his snarling teeth in the darkness.

“What’s going to happen now?” I asked him.

WELL YOU SEE, THE TRICK IS TO HAVE THE KE...STOP IT! HERE, NOW, LISTEN TO ME!

I ran back to the terminal, but now the message it displayed sent a chill down my spine.

>WARNING: UNAUTHORIZED USER _FADED_ DETECTED

>LOCKING TERMINAL IN 15… 14… 13…

“No, no, no, no!” My hands flew over the keyboard, typing faster than I ever had or probably ever will.

‘/edit time’

>WARNING: ALL T…

‘Esc’

I WILL MAKE YOU BURN FOR THIS!

‘/play-31:1:2020;;0601:32’

An icy hand gripped my shoulder. YOU WILL KNOW REPENTANCE!

‘Enter’

***

And then, everything stopped.

***

Once I had calmed down, I finally looked behind me.

Zoey was there. As was the dusk sky and the rocky platform. The slope set in the rock was still there, and I could still see the terminal in front of me.

But Sam was gone. The screen was no longer flashing. And there was no color at the edge of my vision.

“It’s over,” I sighed with relief. “It’s all finally over.”

“Liam,” Zoey spoke, “your face…”

I put a hand on my forehead. It felt bruised and swollen again.

I glanced back at the terminal, then turned around in disgust. “C’mon, let’s just get back to the RV.”

***

Zoey didn’t talk to me until later that evening. The de-stress time we spent alone after something traumatizing like that was becoming a habit. One I wasn’t happy was happening often enough to become a habit, but a habit all the same.

But around eleven that night, she slid into the passenger seat next to me as I was driving, staring into the night road.

“Liam,” she asked quietly, “what was that about?”

“I don’t know,” I replied. “I think that the terminal might have thought we were somebody we weren’t because of…”

“Cut the bullshit.”

I faced her. “You want to know about Sam, don’t you?”

Her angry stare answered the question for me.

“Sam came back that night, the night I came back from the Alone place.” I couldn’t meet her eyes, so I just stared into the windshield. “He told me that I hadn’t escaped. Not on my own, anyway. He told me that he had given me a dark baptism, whatever that was, and he had let me go so that he could give me a dark Pentecost later.”

“And what’s the dark Pentecost?”

“I don’t know. But he named other people he had given it to. Gacy. Berkowitz.” I gripped the wheel tighter. “Serial killers.”

“And why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want to scare you.”

She groaned. “Fuck Liam. How can you be so smart and so stupid at the same time?”

“I know. I just need to…”

“Stop this ‘I’ shit!” She stood up and slapped the side of my head, not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough to feel. “This is you and me, together. We made the decision to get stuck in this RV, together, and that means dealing with problems, together! So while I appreciate your dumbass chivalry, stop it.”

Zoey sat back down in the passenger seat. “From now on, no more secrets. We’re a team. And we’ll beat this… dark Pentecost whatever, together.” Her tone softened a bit. “You’re not going this alone, Liam. I promise I won’t let you.”

“Alright,” I looked back to the dark road in front of me, spirits lightened. “A team.”

Zoey, how I wish you could have kept your promise. I wish it more than anything else.

#creepy america #horror #short story #weird fiction #series #cosmic horror

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