#he needs to DIE !!!! and maria needs to leave the white haired girl alone when he does | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

dilliebar · 4 years ago

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Scraps: A Dillie Fic

Hey guys! I’m happy to announce that I’ve finally posted the first chapter of Scraps (aka “The Farm Fic”). This one will be multi-chapter, and I’m looking at 5-10k words per ch so hopefully that’ll be worth the wait. Anyway, here you are, hope you enjoy!

Months after Joel's death, and a couple months after the confrontation in Seattle, Ellie and Dina find themselves moving out of Jackson and to the farm: a place where they hope to start their new life and family. But even though their lives were spared, not all is well. Ellie still struggles with her inner-demons and the pressures of the ghosts that haunt her, and with how her mind wanders, she's not sure how long the peace will last.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25317292/chapters/61382233

Sunday, May 9th, 2038

The dark, dingey atmosphere and cold air biting at Ellie's nose told her exactly where she was. She'd lived it only once, but had seen it a million times before in her darkest memories and worst nightmares. But this was no dream; she was convinced by every small detail of the rustic mansion- every frosted pattern on iced glass, every crack in the layer of paint, and every anguished cry from the bottom of the staircase- that this was real. He was down there, in the basement. Joel was down there, and she had to save him.

She ran down the stairs as fast as her feet could carry her. Each step seemingly took years to pass, the fear and sheer panic coursing through her veins and making her skin hurt. After what felt like a painful forever she reached the basement door, throat dry and lungs gasping for air. She wrapped her fingers around the cold door handle and turned it with her very last ounce of energy, only to be denied by the lock. She tried again and again and again, each time making the panic set deeper and deeper into her bones.

"Ellie!"

Joel's strained voice called from the other side. Dammit, she was trying. She was trying like her life depended on it, but the door wouldn't budge. Hot tears rolled down her cheeks as another tormented cry of her name filled the silence between her sobs.

Suddenly the door gave way after what felt like the thousandth turn, her heart dropping at the sight in front of her. The room was empty except for Joel's still, bloodied and beaten body lying motionless on the hardwood floor. The smell of iron filled her lungs that were previously desperate for air, only to find herself begging for them to empty again. She watched as his lips parted slowly to mutter their final words.

"Ellie!"

All she felt now was a pair of hands gripping her shoulders. All she saw was red. All that her rapid heartbeat pumped through her veins was adrenaline and agony and rage. The voice that called her name didn't register. She pushed away in desperation. She had to get to Joel. Maybe she could still save him.

"Get the fuck off me!"

But her captor wouldn't budge. With sheer distress she pulled their hands off of her shoulders and went to push them away, only to be quickly met with two soft, familiar hands cupping the sides of her face.

"Ellie," the voice said, softer and calmer. It was familiar, too, yet she couldn't quite place the sweet sound. She grabbed their wrists tightly in an attempt to pull them off of her as the red began to fade from her vision, but stopped as she processed the girl sitting in front of her.

She was met with two big, concerned, dark-brown eyes; the pair that she always associated with not hate nor violence, but both gentleness and a tender touch; the warm-toned skin that felt soft underneath her fingertips; the near-black hair that smelled of life and lavender. Dina. Her presence alone made Ellie’s heart rate slow.

Confused at the sudden change of scenery, she took a look around the room. The walls were a faded eggshell white, with one window directly facing the bed, allowing the moonlight to cast a pale glow on the scene. Cardboard boxes- most sealed and unopened- were labeled and organized in stacks on the wood floor; linen; Ellie; Dina; decor and some unmarked. She looked back into the shorter girl’s eyes.

“We’re home, El,” she whispered softly, “do you remember?”

Gentle thumbs brushed the skin of Ellie’s face as her heart and breathing slowed. She didn’t quite recognize the room. Not as her room in Jackson, anyway. She looked to the window, and to her surprise, didn’t find the suburban-like view of the town outside. Instead she saw a field of long golden grass, the tops of great pines, an old, rusted fence…

“The farm,” Dina confirmed, “we moved a couple weeks ago.”

Ellie’s memory came flooding back at her girlfriend’s words.

The couple had been mulling over living in town since they left seattle. They knew they’d want to stay near family, or more so Jesse’s parents considering the baby, but how could they live in Jackson after all that had happened? How could they walk past Joel or Jesse’s old houses without feeling an overwhelming sense of guilt? How could they rebuild their life there at all? They needed peace. They needed a home. They needed a new beginning.

Of course, Jesse’s parents were completely against the idea of moving away from Jackson. They had a right to be concerned, but after all, the farm was only about ten minutes or so outside of town, close enough that if there was ever an emergency they could get help as needed. Ellie had her own concerns, too, like how they would deliver the baby with only a blanket and her 7th grade health class military prep, but Dina assured her it would be fine, and Ellie believed her. As long as she was with Dina she knew everything would be alright.

And life back in Jackson county so far had, in fact, been alright. But what wouldn’t stop picking away at Ellier were these constant nightmares. Each one made her feel as if she were living it again. As if the blood splatters across frosted glass weren’t illustrated by the depths of her mind. As if she wouldn’t wake up again, that she would die in that basement and never see Dina or Tommy or Maria again. This was the fourth one she’d had since they arrived in Jackson. Ellie thought the move would help, that the absence of reminders of Joel would help ease her anxiety, but alas, she had woken Dina up in the middle of the night for the fourth time.

Ellie let go of Dina's small wrists and leaned into the tender touch of her girlfriend; she was the only thing in the world that seemed soft anymore. The only thing that seemed solid. Her body sighed as Dina lifted her thumb to wipe away a tear that Ellie didn't even realize had welled.

"Did you have another one?"

Ellie hated when Dina had to see her this way. She hated being vulnerable. She hated how she kept interrupting Dina's well-deserved and needed rest. The mental toll her own mind was taking on her was overwhelming, but she wouldn't allow it to affect Dina if it was the last thing she did. After all the unnecessary hell she went through just to be there for Ellie, she was convinced that she shouldn't have to deal with this, too.

She nodded, "I'm okay."

Dina looked unconvinced.

"Ellie, your hands are shaking."

She shook her head and clenched her fists into the sheets.

"I said I'm fine."

Ellie kept her gaze down but she could feel her girlfriend’s eyes on her, examining. She prayed that Dina would just let it go, that she would go back to sleep and forget that this ever happened.

The smaller girl's hand found its way under Ellie's chin, tilting her head up to look into those beautiful emerald eyes.

"I'm here for you, El."

Dina closed her eyes and leaned in to place a tender kiss on auburn hair before moving back to the right side of the bed and tucking herself back under the covers.

Ellie hesitated for a moment, watching the girl settle back into the clean white sheets. She studied how they fit around the curves of her body, and how each strand of dark hair contrasted against the pillows. Sometimes, or more like all the time, Ellie wondered how someone like herself could end up with such a beautiful soul. She'd killed how many men? Taken how many lives? She had almost stopped at nothing to bring down one measly person, and despite the fact that the bitch still made her blood boil, the innocent part of Ellie couldn't find herself wanting anything more than this girl lying next to her. Not even vengeance.

But the hardened part of herself wouldn't leave her alone. It didn't just want blood, it wanted to be the one to spill it.

Ellie took a deep breath and turned over on her side, reaching an arm around the smaller girl's waist and pulling her in to fit their bodies together. She brought her pointer finger up to her girlfriend's arm, gently tracing patterns on soft skin until she slowly felt the bad thoughts melt away one by one. She did her best not to bother the sleeping girl, and continued on to draw her finger on her neck, and then down to her shoulder, until she saw it.

The scar.

It was about two inches long, and ran along the back of Dina’s right shoulder. It had healed for the most part, but the line was still red and angry.

“Almost done.”

Ellie noticed Dina wince as the needle pierced her skin again. She was trying her best to stitch up the arrow wound as steady as possible, but with one broken arm, it was proving to be a difficult task whenever the smaller girl would flinch and she wasn’t able to hold her still.

“How’s Tommy doing?”

Ellie looked behind her to where Tommy was resting on his backpack and one of the old leather sofas.

“Should be alright, the bullet didn’t go too deep.”

As much as it brought back bad memories, with everyone’s current condition there was no way they’d be able to leave the theater and make it back to Jackson alive. It was already going to be difficult enough with Dina being pregnant and all, but on top of that, she had also lost a lot of blood and probably had at least a minor concussion. Tommy’s right eye was shot to fuck, and he’d barely been able to walk ever since the confrontation. If that weren’t bad enough, Ellie had this broken arm to show for it, too. She wondered how they would even get back at all with the little medical supplies they had.

Ellie leaned forward and bit off the excess string.

“All done.”

Dina sighed and relaxed her shoulders.

“Thanks babe.”

The pair had tried to pack light, so extra clothes weren’t really a priority when they left Jackson, but they were able to scrounge up some ones without blood on them from around the place. Most of the clothes- or costumes- were fancy dresses or black-tie attire, but the last guy who set up camp there left quite a bit of things behind, too. Ellie grabbed a black tee for herself and a blue hoodie for Dina, which she helped to slip over her arms amidst pained groans.

The memory of the night before still haunted her. It used to be Joel’s face that lurked in her mind, but now it was Dina’s. The arrow through her shoulder. The sound as her head banged against the floor. The knife held to her throat by a muscular arm. It only made her more hungry for blood, but she also knew that she had a responsibility to Dina, Tommy, and Jesse that she had to fulfill.

“Ellie?”

She sighed and packed the rest of the medical supplies away as the tender voice broke through her tortured thoughts.

“Hm?”

Ellie’s muscles relaxed as Dina stood and wrapped her arms around the taller girl’s waist from behind, leaning in and resting her head in the crook of her neck. She was grateful; god, she was so grateful. But something still didn’t sit right for Ellie. They had come all this way, gone through so much hurt and for what? For the father of Dina’s unborn child to die? For Tommy to be permanently injured? Sure, they had killed some of the people associated with Joel’s death, but not the one to give the final blow. It was like starving, finally finding a meal but settling for a side. Unsatisfying and disappointing.

“I can’t go back there.”

The shaky words tugged at Ellie’s chest. They had so many great memories in Jackson. It was where they first met. Where Ellie first played a video game. Where she first watched a movie. Where she got her first tattoo. Where they first laughed and hung out together, and where they’d first kissed. They’d had a semi-normal life; one like Joel had described. One where people roamed the streets, no one was struggling to survive, and there was a sense of both community and safety. Jackson was their home, but it had also been Jesse’s, and Joel’s, and they both knew that they wouldn’t be able to escape the guilt as they saw their ghosts mingling at the bar or dancing and laughing under string lights at the winter dance. It was too much; at least for now.

Ellie turned around and pulled Dina into a loving embrace.

“I know.”

Crisp air whispered through the towering firs, grass rustling underneath Ellie’s feet as she whisked herself into the woods. She left while Dina was still sleeping, hoping they wouldn’t have to talk about last night like she knew her girlfriend desperately wanted to. She felt bad, knowing that all Dina wanted to do was help, but they were both grieving in different ways, and right now Ellie didn’t know if she could bring herself to even think about the subject more than her mind forced her to. So she left a note, so hopefully Dina wouldn’t worry, and assured her that she’d be back for dinner, hopefully with something other than canned tomato soup to eat.

Ellie held the notch of the arrow up to the string, making sure to keep it ready in case any critters decided to show themselves. Fall was beginning to fade into winter; the air was starting to turn chilly and frost made an appearance on the grass in the early morning before melting away under the semi-warm, overcast sun. Even as the cold air bit at her nose, Ellie found herself at peace deep in the tall trees. Maybe it was the quietness of it all; how calm everything seemed to be, with nothing but the chirping of the warblers and the sway of branches filling the autumn air; maybe the openness, how any and all structure was overtaken by the brush and roots of the forest; but most of all it was the familiarity. Though her and Joel had spent so many days and nights meandering their way in and out of cities and small towns, most of their travel was spent in the wilderness, which was something she'd always admired and appreciated ever since she left the QZ.

She solemnly dug through the memories of setting up camp after a long day of hiking, where she would gather the wood for a campfire while Joel scouted the area and set up traps. She remembered vividly each tiny detail and sidetrack he fit into his stories of his life back in Boston, and sometimes, but rarely, of his travels and life before the outbreak. She remembered back then how she had so many questions. It pained her to think that over the past few years she had distanced herself too much to ask more. Now his answers and stories were all she wanted, but instead she was left with nothing but a flat grave and her own imagination.

A rustling from the brush beside her caught her ear and pulled her from her thoughts.

Ellie crouched down in the grass to make herself less visible and nocked the arrow, keeping a keen eye in the direction of the noise. She watched for any and all movement, a tactic that had grown to be second nature to her over the years. She waited patiently until she saw it: a small rabbit peeking out from above the grass. She raised the bow and pulled back on the string, holding her breath to take aim. For a split second before she released the arrow the little creature turned its head in her direction, its black eyes meeting hers. She felt a tinge of mercy in her chest before hands began to shake and she released the arrow, missing the animal and sending it running by mere inches. She cursed under her breath before standing to retrieve her arrow and continued into the quiet depths of the woods.

“We got everything?”

Dina helped Ellie slip her backpack over her shoulders before turning to give Tommy a small nod in response. It had been a couple weeks since the confrontation with Abby. Everyone was still in a world of hurt, but the tension between the scars and the WLF was growing day by day, and supplies were becoming more and more scarce. It was only a matter of time before they were blocked off from leaving Seattle completely, and without any means of travel other than their own two feet, making it back to Jackson in one piece would be much, much harder; they had to move, now.

“Should be it, unless we want to bring sparky from the roof along with us.”

Despite the tension in the air Ellie released a small puff of laughter, earning both of them a glare from Tommy’s one good eye. Ellie knew he didn’t want to leave Seattle. She didn’t want to, either. But he couldn’t fight, she couldn’t fight, and Dina’s condition was getting worse day by day. They had already lost one of them, it would be irrational to keep running after this girl and lose another, right?

The trio made their way out of the front door, making sure to keep an eye on the nearby buildings and cover. There was no telling what, or who, was lurking in the shadows anymore. Any fight at this point was a death sentence.

“Main gate’s this way,” Tommy noted, opening the map, “though we best sneak out the east jus’ like last week.”

“Still no guards?” Ellie asked.

“Not as far as I heard over that radio.”

Ellie shrugged and nodded. The main gate would be impossible to get through with all the trouble they had to go through just to get into the QZ. She began to follow Tommy before she felt a tug on her good arm.

“El’s?”

She turned around to meet a pair of sad brown eyes, brimming with tears sparkling like polished glass. As much as they wanted to leave, they also wanted to stay. Not just for the vengeance of Joel, but for Jesse now, too. Ellie wanted it. Dina wanted it. Tommy wanted it. But it wasn’t about them now. It was about their child; someone who would carry on the legacy of that brave friend and father; it was about their family. They were a family now, no matter what, and anything outside of that would have to wait.

“What’s up?”

She watched as Dina blinked tears away from her eyes.

“Can we stop for him?”

Ellie felt her heart ache at the unevenness of her voice.

“Of course.”

They had wanted to bring Jesse’s body back to Jackson, back to his parents, back to where their child would grow up. But frankly without a horse there was no way they’d be able to, not to mention the trip would take maybe a month or two. Having to see his body like that wouldn’t be good for any of them, or for him out of respect. The least they could do was give him a proper funeral somewhere nice, somewhere he could rest, where when they buried him, he would still be the man that everyone remembered so dearly.

They buried him along the same route Ellie and Dina had taken to Seattle, off the side of the main road by the overgrown bus stop where the sunlight broke through the trees and would be easy to find if and when they came back to see him again. They marked the fresh mound by lining it with rocks, and neatly folded up his bloodied jacket, slipping it into one of the clothing bags from the theater and setting it underneath one of the bigger stones at the head of his grave. It wasn’t fancy, but Dina, having a decently vast knowledge of her religion, was able to send Jesse off the best way she knew how.

They stopped at his grave again as they passed through the area to head back to Jackson, at Dina’s request.

Ellie watched as Dina leaned down and took some of the freshly-turned dirt in her hand, squeezing it gently before letting it fall through her fingers. Her breath remained shaken as she took the rock off of the garment bag, unzipping it and bringing Jesse’s coat to her chest to feel his presence one last time. Ellie listened closely as her girlfriend began to whisper a small prayer under her breath in a language she couldn’t understand.

At first when Dina had described her religion in the synagogue, Ellie found herself intrigued. She didn’t just want to know how something as simple as a string of words to someone unknowable could help, but she desperately wanted it to. She had even tried it a couple of times; she tried it on their first night in Seattle, when she found out Dina was pregnant and she said poisonous things and she prayed for everything to be okay; she tried it after she killed Nora, when she was begging for forgiveness to anyone who would hear her; she tried it after she killed Mel, a pregnant woman, which was something she could never forget or forgive herself for but maybe a higher, more perfect being could. At first it did make her feel better to know, or at least make herself think, that there was something greater than all of this bullshit out there. But then, after seeing Dina’s bloodied face and body with a knife held up to her neck, she came to the conclusion that any “perfect being” would never allow that bullshit to happen.

But she wouldn’t tell Dina that. Not when it was the only thing she clinged to for hope.

When Ellie got home it was around mid-afternoon, and she could see smoke coming from the chimney. Despite how dark her mind was, she couldn't help but feel her heart warm at the thought of having a place to come home to, a person to come home to. It was something she'd always wanted but also thought she'd never have the chance to get, especially after they left Boston. The more she thought about it as she approached the front door the more guilty she felt.

What if I was that person to him?

A chill ran down her spine and all that warmth that previously filled her heart began to fuel her guilt. For the last year that Joel had been in her life, she had barely acknowledged that he even existed. She had been his home. For the longest time, he had been hers, as much as her angry self hated to admit it back then. All of the stupid dad jokes, his fatherly, protective demeanor, their unbreakable bond; all of that was taken away within minutes, and not a year later, here she was, attempting to start over and forget that it ever happened or that he ever existed.

I don't deserve her.

When Ellie walked in she immediately noticed her girlfriend on the couch, beautiful as ever with her little baby bump and frazzled head of hair.

"Hey," she greeted with a sweet smile.

Ellie set her backpack down by the door and leaned down to place a fragile kiss atop Dina's head.

"Sorry, I was gone a bit longer than I planned."

"You're alright, I was just taking a break from dishes," Dina paused, attempting to read her girlfriend with concerned eyes as the mood shifted, "everything alright?"

Ellie knew what she was referring to. It was the reason she'd gone out in the first place. She didn't want to talk about it then and she didn't want to talk about it now.

She shrugged it off as she untied the couple squirrels she caught from her bag.

"Everything's fine, just needed something for dinner."

Even with her half-hearted response Ellie could still feel the smaller girl's eyes on her. They were pressing, piercing, and probing every emotion she had left in her. But like she said, everything was fine. She just needed more time.

"You sure?"

Ellie shook her head to herself, her walls going up as she tried to avoid the conversation yet again.

"I'm fine."

Dina shifted on the couch.

"I know you don't want to talk about it, and that's fine, but-"

"Dina."

Her tone was calm but firm; enough to tell her girlfriend to take a step back but tender enough to let her know it wasn't personal. Frankly Ellie hated telling Dina to back off, because she knew she was lucky to have any sort of support at all, but this was the one thing she felt too guilty and pained about to ever bring up to anyone when she needed care the most.

Ellie stood up, squirrels in hand. She made her way to the kitchen before turning back to the girl on the couch.

"I'm gonna go work outside,"

Dina looked up, meeting her girlfriend's eyes just briefly before nodding in response.

Work life on the farm was pretty dull, but relaxing for the couple. Ellie had settled on doing the majority of the manual labor or most work outside, really, like making sure the sheep were well-fed and that the crops were growing as they should. Dina would always do her best to help, although with how the pregnancy had been affecting her body, most days she'd end up doing some of the household chores and preparing anything that Ellie happened to bring home when she went out hunting. The rest of the day they'd spend together, whether they were cuddled up under the stars or dancing in the living room, just as they'd always wanted to be, now and forever.

Working the garden didn’t take too long since they only really grew enough to sustain themselves, and even then the plants were just little saplings considering they’d only been there for a little over a week; for now they mainly relied on non-perishables and the little fresh vegetables they’d brought from Jackson, and the food that Ellie brought home of course. It didn’t take long for her to round up the couple of lambs Maria was willing to spare, either, and by the time she was done the sun was just setting.

And so Ellie finished up, brushed off her jeans and wiped the mud off her shoes before making her way back inside the kitchen where her beautiful, exceedingly patient girlfriend had dishes in the sink and the squirrels she’d caught on the cutting board. She felt a tinge of pain in her heart as she thought of how she’d snapped earlier. Ellie didn’t want to push her away. She knew Dina didn’t want her to push her away. They needed each other more than anything, but Ellie could barely think of Joel without breaking down, let alone talk about him.

And yet, despite everything, Dina stayed by her side.

Ellie felt her body warm as those brown irises met her own, bright and sparkling as ever. There was something different about them; something different than before that day in Seattle. It was the absence of the carefree, fun, glowing light behind her eyes. The one that put everyone at ease, yet so on-edge at the same time. Instead of being sharp and direct and sarcastic, it was soft, and concerned, and forgiving.

She walked up behind the smaller girl and wrapped those strong arms around her waist, pulling her in and planting a kiss on that soft neck of hers.

“I love you,” Ellie said, just above a whisper.

Dina closed her eyes and leaned back into her girlfriend’s touch, allowing herself to revel in the rare softness of the hardened girl. Before Abby, Ellie had always been shy but always so warm. And in all fairness, she still was, but the grief and trauma over the past couple months had overcome her like a thick ice. No matter how much Dina tried to dig at her, she wasn’t revealing any of the water below, and it was both frustrating and disheartening to see her not just ice out the people of Jackson, but herself as well. They had always been close, ever since the day Ellie arrived in Jackson. But now Dina felt like they were a million miles apart, and she had no idea what to do about it.

“We don’t have to talk about it,” she said calmly, “but don’t leave without telling me like that.”

She felt the taller girl release a sigh against her shoulder, contemplating for a moment before speaking.

“I know, I’m sorry.”

Dina turned around in Ellie’s arms and moved her hands up to cup her girlfriend’s face with a tender touch. She studied those deep-green emerald eyes, searching for any sign of the emotional openness Dina had been looking for since they’d left Seattle. Something was there. It was an understanding; a glimmer of hope in that mossy ring; something that told her that the innocence and goodness Ellie once had was still in there somewhere, hiding underneath, but still very much there.

She leaned up on her tip-toes to plant a brief kiss on her girlfriend’s soft lips before pulling back.

“Tommy and Maria mentioned they wanted to come over for dinner,” Dina switched the topic, “kind of like a house-warming thing.”

Ellie groaned.

“Doesn’t the fireplace warm it enough?”

The shorter girl playfully rolled her eyes and pushed her girlfriend away from her. “Go wash up, you look like Todd out there.”

Ellie scoffed as she turned to head out of the kitchen.

“Alright, but you didn’t just kiss Todd so I’d like to think I’ve got something on him.”

“You wish.”

It took them nearly twice as long to get back to Jackson as it took them to get to Seattle. Ellie was fairly mobile and her arm was healing nicely, but breaks had to be much more frequent for the sake of Tommy and Dina. She couldn’t count the number of times she’d stayed up with the pregnant girl, comforting her in any way she could and helping her to keep water and food down. Tommy’s gunshot wound appeared to be healing just fine, but his leg still wasn’t managing to function as well as it used to. As much as she hated to think it, it was very well possible that the damage was permanent, but all that mattered was getting back to Jackson in one piece.

It was the fourth week, second afternoon of their trip when they finally saw the lights of Jackson appear over the grassy Wyoming hills.

Almost in-sync, the trio stopped side-by-side, looking down on the settlement which used to be their safe-haven; their serenity; their home. For Ellie, it was a curse in disguise. A seemingly perfect community where all of the troubles of the outside world would melt away suddenly became a barren wasteland that led her family- her father- to his demise. For Dina, it was the place that had raised her since the age of twelve. She had seen the horrors of the outside world, but now she had seen the pure darkness behind it. Now all she saw were four walls filled with distractions; things to keep everyone’s minds off the fact that there were people out there suffering while they wasted away in front of their televisions and danced along to music of the old days. All Tommy saw were his broken hopes and dreams. Jackson was supposed to be a second-chance; a place for people to redeem themselves and finally live a rare, peaceful life. Now he realized that the only place for redemption was outside the wall, where vengeance could be taken and revenge could be had.

Ellie felt a soft hand grip her calloused one, and she turned her head to see a teary-eyed Dina.

“I’m not ready.”

The taller girl felt her heart ache at the three words. She squeezed the small hand reassuringly.

“Me neither.”

The three of them made their way down the hill, past the old gas station, through the brush and through the golden grass. They took note of the fresh horse tracks, signaling the first friendly presence they’d seen in months. Ellie continued to squeeze Dina’s hand as they made their way past the last line of trees, and took a deep breath as the main gate came into view.

“Open the gates! They’re back!”

As they approached the wall Ellie kept her eyes down, not out of sadness but out of shame. How could she look Jesse’s parents in the eyes and tell them he was gone? All because she decided to leave; all because they hadn’t been more careful; all because Ellie couldn’t help but make one last swing at the woman who killed her father.

She had no clue, but she would have to do it sooner or later, for Dina’s sake.

The gates opened, and Dina was the first to be bombarded by warm embraces from Jesse’s mother and father. Tears rolled down red cheeks and sobs were heard among them, but all Ellie heard was a muffled ringing in her ears. She could feel their sad, grieving eyes on the side of her face, begging for an answer that told them their son wasn’t gone. Something that could give them hope. But she couldn’t. All she could muster was a pained “I’m sorry” as his mother’s cries grew louder.

The next to appear by the gate was Maria, but unlike Jesse’s parents, stayed there, waiting for Tommy to approach her. Ellie looked to him, seeing the pain ridden on his face as he went to take his first limping step forward, but she stopped him.

“Tommy,”

Ellie shook her head as he looked up to her. She thought for a moment, pondering what she would even say to him. They had left for one purpose and one purpose only: to seek vengeance, and not only had they not accomplished that, but they had even more of a reason to seek revenge now more than ever.

Slowly she brought her eyes up to meet him.

“I’ll make her pay.”

“So how’s it been out here?” Maria asked, “Farm life been treating you two nice?”

Dina smiled as she set the portions down on the table in front of them, taking her seat down next to Ellie.

She poked at her food as Dina and Maria went back and forth about the ins-and-outs of their life so far on the farm. In all honesty there wasn’t really much to talk about. Since Jackson sent out patrols every so often there wasn’t really any issue with infected around the area, and even if there was a straggler or two they weren’t two difficult to get rid of silently.

And then they went on about Jackson, how everyone was doing, how Jesse’s parents were. And of course the conversation shifted to the inevitable topic of Dina’s pregnancy. Since they had gotten back to Jackson she had been doing much better, especially now that they had access to medicine and heat and decent amounts of food. But the further along she got the more Ellie realized that there was one thing she wouldn’t be able to do.

Ellie couldn’t help but notice how quiet Tommy was as he sat across from her, barely even sneezing at the plate of food in front of him as the tension in the air grew more and more thick. She knew he was antsy to get back out there; to go find Abby yet again, and she was, too. But she had a family now. She had a responsibility to Dina and to Jesse. She couldn’t just up-and-leave. But no matter what, she would never place the blame for that on Dina. And she’d make sure Tommy didn’t put that pressure on her, either. Certainly not in their home.

“We’ve been talking about names,” Ellie finally interjected, “any suggestions?”

Maria pondered for a moment.

“Well I’ve got a few, but just in case, I think I might save those for myself.”

Ellie waited and gave Tommy one last chance to not be a dick before deciding to include him in the conversation whether he wanted to or not.

“Tommy? Any suggestions?”

She watched as he visibly scoffed before crossing his arms over his chest and looking up to meet Ellie’s eyes. There was a tangible frustration in his eyes; like he knew that this quest for revenge was coming to an end. She held his stare, silently daring him to make a snide comment towards Dina.

“So you’re keepin’ it, huh?”

The blood boiled in Ellie’s veins as she pushed her plate aside and leaned forward on her elbows.

“Yes. Is that a problem for you?”

Dina leaned forward to place a calming hand on Ellie’s shoulder, lightly attempting to pull her back and de-escalate the situation. But as far as Ellie was concerned, no one was going to come into their house and talk to the mother of her child like that.

Tommy stood from his chair, loudly scooting it back and practically throwing his fork down on the table.

“You want some names? I got plenty for ya.”

Ellie stood up to meet his eyes along with Maria, who already had two hands on him and was gently pushing him towards the door. He turned to her and brushed her hands away, then heading out the front door.

“I’m already goin’.”

At first the three of them stood in shock, appalled by the suggestion that he’d just made. This was their child. It was Jesse’s child at that. Even if Jesse were alive, it was completely Dina’s choice as to what she wanted to do, and she wanted to keep it. And if that’s what she wanted to do, Ellie would be there for her every step of the way, and would support the hell out of that kid as if they were her own, because they were a family now.

Before she knew it, Ellie felt her feet carrying her outside while Dina called out for her to stop, but she couldn’t feel or hear anything over the rage and blood coursing through her veins.

“You fucking asshole.”

Tommy turned from the knot in his horse’s lead to respond.

“Right, I’m the asshole,” he shook his head, “I’m the asshole for keepin’ my goddamn word? Is that it?”

Ellie shoved her hands against his chest, full-force.

“Don’t you fucking dare-”

“I’m not the one out here tryna forget the man who raised me ever walked this goddamn earth.”

The mention of Joel shook her, and she took a step back.

“But what’d I expect?” he scoffed and deepened his tone, “He raised one selfish child.”

And then she saw his face; the last time she’d ever seen him.

Without thinking Ellie cocked her fist, fully intending to deliver a well-deserved punch to the good side of his head before she felt two soft hands pulling back on her shoulders. She kept her eyes locked on the asshole in front of her even as her girlfriend came into view and held both sides of her face, trying her best to distract her.

“Ellie? Ellie.”

She watched as Maria stepped in front of Tommy, telling him quietly to back off. When he was out of view she brought her eyes back to Dina, who was looking at her with a deep sense of concern and worry. Her heart rate began to slow, but she was nowhere near calm.

Ellie scoffed and pushed back from her girlfriend’s grip, stomping her way back inside and up the stairs until she got to their room, slamming the door behind her and sitting herself down on the white bedsheets. She leaned forward with her elbows on her knees, face in her hands as tears began to brim at the corners of her eyes.

As much as Tommy pissed her off, there was an aching in Ellie’s chest that told her he was right; that she hadn’t kept her word; that everything she did was for nothing, and to stop now would be an insult to Joel and his memory; that she didn’t deserve this seemingly perfect life with Dina and their soon-to-be child. No matter how many times Dina told her it wasn’t her fault, she still couldn’t shake the feeling of guilt.

She still saw their faces. She saw Joel’s face, battered and bloodied, as the lids of his eyes parted one last time for their eyes to meet before that bitch brought the club down. She saw Tommy’s face, unconscious and helpless as the scene played out in front of their eyes. She saw Jesse’s, one of the best friends she’d ever had, lifelessly splayed across the theater floor with a bullet wound through his cheek. And she saw Dina's face, the love of her life, seconds from death, who if she lost she would lose her mind and her life along with it.

Ellie looked up through glossy eyes as she heard a soft creak from the bedroom door.

“El’s?”

Ellie wiped the tears from her eyes and attempted to slow her breathing as they continued to spill. She didn’t want Dina to see her like this; so helplessly lost. But the smaller girl sat next to her anyway, rubbing a comforting hand on her back.

“He didn’t mean it,” she whispered, “it’s just a lot right now.”

Ellie shook her head and hid her face in her hands.

“He’s right.”

Dina’s heart ached as her girlfriend’s voice cracked. It pained her to see her like this, but she would always be there for her in any way that she could. Slowly Dina brought her hands to the sides of Ellie’s tear-struck face and gently turned it to look at her.

“Hey,” she said, looking deep and genuine into those emerald eyes, “You’re allowed to be happy.”

That’s when the dam broke, and every bad thought and emotion that Ellie had been withholding came flooding through the gates in the form of anguished sobs. She let Dina pull her into her chest, allowing herself the only emotional release she’d had in months.

“I miss him.”

“I know.”

She told herself she didn’t deserve this, that she didn’t deserve her girlfriend’s warmth, but she was crying so hard she didn’t think she would be able to stop even if she really wanted to. Everything that built up to this, every slit throat, every harsh word, every cruel thought didn’t release her anger or grief. It was this. The few times, this being the first, that she allowed herself to be vulnerable to the one that she loved. At the end of the day, maybe she didn’t deserve it, but Dina chose to stand by her anyway, and after everything that happened, Ellie decided that she would never aim to take advantage of that ever again.

They stayed like that for a while, Dina rocking Ellie back and forth as she let her emotions flow, as the tears soaked into the smaller girl’s shirt and her girlfriend’s body grew less and less tense until the tears stopped. Ellie gave in as Dina pulled the warm covers over them, and they held each other as they drifted off to sleep.

But before Ellie let the exhaustion overtake her, she let her mind wander. Usually it took her to the darkest of places, but now she could see something a bit brighter; a future in which things weren’t so grim after all.

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dangerousconnoisseurdonut · 3 years ago

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Half Baked Idea a Little More Baked

Right, so the other day I posted Half Baked Idea even though I wasn’t happy with how underdeveloped it was. But yesterday, due to mind numbing boredom at work, the idea went back in the oven and has come out a little more baked, so see how you like this!

Aliens invaded Earth years ago to try and repopulate as the two are compatible, but they usually need multiple mates, except for Thomas Wayne; he denied his soulmate when he fell in love with Martha Kane. Thomas’ mission was to take control of Gotham but when he met Martha, he hoped for a more peaceful co-habitation. Problems arise when Martha gets pregnant.

Knowing his child would be the mate of those who would conquer Gotham, Thomas told everyone, even his old friend and war buddy Alfred that the child was male and stillborn while giving the baby to a human he trusted; Patrick Gordon, who had a son the same night. The same night Bruce Wayne is declared stillborn, Patrick and Maria Gordon have twin babies, James and Bryce.

Now, even among the Aliens, there are Omegas and there are Alphas, and everyone gets a Soul Identifying Mark at 13 so as to begin courtship. The person’s own mark appears as a large tattoo across the shoulders for Alphas and across the lower back for Omegas and the Soul Mate Mark is a bit smaller.

Years pass and Oswald is trying to figure out how the Resistance keeps fighting against them, even with his top Lieutenants; the Legion of Horribles who are all mated to each other. Jerome and Jeremiah are the leaders, with Jerome’s mark being the trademark smile from the show. Jeremiah’s is a maze that the other’s enjoy trying to figure out in bed. The Chemist of the group is Jonathan Crane, who is treated as the baby of the group being the youngest, and his Soul Mark is a crow. Next is the Enforcer of the group, Bridgit whose Soul Mark rather inspired her weapon of choice; a bonfire, and the group is rather protective of her due to her brothers abuse. Then there are the husband and wife Interrogators who double as the Mommy and Daddy of the group; Nora and her beloved and devoted husband, Victor, who actually have the same Soul Mark of entwined snowflakes. Then there’s the Adviser to the group, Jervis Tetch, who can play with your mind and lock you in a horrible nightmare if you are uncooperative during negotiations, and heaven help you if you insult his March Hare or the White Queen (Nora). His Soul Mark inspired his trademark top hat. Finally, there’s Thomas’ old friend, Alfred Pennyworth who, after falling out with Thomas, joined the Legion of Horribles as their behind the scenes Strategist, his mark is that of a Union Jack. Oswald’s mate, Ed, reasons that it’s because the Legion is incomplete as there is one more mark on each of the Horribles; a bat. Alfred reasons that the mark belonged to Thomas’ son, Bruce Wayne as, even though he never cared for Martha, he often felt drawn to the child growing in her belly. Ed finds it strange that the others are even alive as their species isn’t meant to survive fractured; if one mate dies, the others inevitably follow.

One day, Nora and Jonathan are delivering some supplies to Lee’s clinic, which they Patron so she takes care of their wounds and in return, they help provide some funds to fix up the Narrows. But as Jonathan is dropping off some medicine (and Nora is making sure he didn’t slip any of his tricks in) he sees Lee with someone who’s getting a physical. Normally, Jonathan wouldn’t care one way or the other except this person has a large bat tattoo on their lower back. They leaves before Jonathan or Nora can confront them and, no matter what they offer Lee, they know she’ll never give up her patients.

They rush back to the others to reveal what they found but Victor points out there are thousands of Caucasian brunettes in the city; how can they possibly narrow it down to one person? Especially when the body shape suggested female rather than male? Ed then has a brainstorm; Thomas, around the time his wife was pregnant was showing signs of being sympathetic to the human, and would have noticed Alfred being attached to the unborn child. Is it such a stretch that Thomas would give false information regarding the child, including its sex and claiming it was stillborn?

Ed does some digging and can't help finding it interesting the Gordon's had twins the same night Thomas' son died so they go to investigate the twins. Jim is a Detective who's on the fast track to becoming Captain, possibly even Commissioner, but completely human. Bryce Gordon however, is called the golden girl by everyone; with the Wayne's having no children, when Thomas and Martha died, they left their shares of Wayne Enterprises to the Gordon's, who gave them to Bryce as she was the only one with any business sense. Too bad the board wanted nothing to do with a human female and insisted on buying her out. So what did she do?

Bryce takes the money she got from her shares and opened Gordon Industries and in only a matter of 2 years, she is the main competition of Wayne Enterprises thanks to her innovative ideas. She is a black belt and has awards in Karate, Judo, Kickboxing, Kendo, has degrees in engineering, chemistry, biology, computer sciences, can speak Mandarin, Cantonese, Japanese, Hindi, French, German, Italian, is a renowned chess champion and skilled pilot; whatever she puts her hand to, she's brilliant. There were rumours she was feeling depressed so she started adopting kids (last count was 4, but she's always on the lookout for more apparently). No one knows how she does it, but Jim loves his baby sister and is super protective of her and his nieces and nephews (Jason, Tim, Helena, and Cassandra). The others are curious about this 'Girl Wonder' as the papers dubbed her so they send Victor and Jonathan to investigate. Why those 2? Because no one knows what the Scarecrow looks like and Victor has a neat little trick where he can shed his snow white hair and chemical blue eyes for plain brown hair and eyes, completely different from his normal appearance. They talk and Victor is convinced this playgirl, genius, stepmother billionaire is the missing Bryce Wayne and their mate. Nora is thrilled because Bryce already has 4 kids she can mother while being the Mommy of the group.

The reason Bryce doesn't realizes she's actually half alien is because she's been 'treated' for 'ADHD' since she turned 13. In truth, Papa Gordon arranged with a doctor allied with the Resistance to have her supplied with suppressants; hence the hyperactivity and the desperate need for kids, without the connections she could actually die from loneliness as her species just aren't meant to be loners. They know they have to get rid of those suppressants if Bryce is to feel their connection and live, so they send Alfred as a PA since she’s been through three secretaries this month alone, and this last one she’s only hanging onto because she has a trip to Venice coming up and working for Bryce Gordon ensures major spending money. Problem is, once Alfred manages to replace the suppressants with placebos, Bryce starts feeling over 12 years of depression and loneliness hit her like a freight train. Alfred and the Horribles may have to push up their timeline if they want Bryce to survive.

#this is better #boredom is the mother of inspiration #i've lost count

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redwoodwrites · 5 years ago

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Relativity Falls Season 1 Episode 1: Tourist Trap

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12579416/chapters/28652568

A/N:Welcome, one and all, to Relativity Falls! Here you will find the adventures of a certain dynamic duo as they spend the summer at their Grauntie Mabel's utterly tacky tourist trap. Updates will be every Friday, and after each episode there will be a “Short”, a much shorter original fanfiction which occurs in the time between the episodes. See you in a few days, and enjoy All Hallow's Eve! Warning: *This fanfiction may trigger feels, warm fuzzies, and certain amounts of deja vu. *May cause minor amounts of time travel (forward only) *Author does not claim responsibility for any sightings of ghosts, triangles, or woodpeckers that may or may not occur during or after the reading of this text. Enjoy!

“AAAAAAAH!”

The golf cart plunged over a cliff, punched straight through a billboard, and landed with a squeal on the road below. The two boys in the cart held on for dear life.

“WE'RE GONNA DIE WE'RE GONNA DIE WE'RE GONNA DIE!” Stanley screamed.

Ford jerked the wheel, fishtailing around a hairpin turn. “Hold on!”

The ground shook with an ominous thumping.

Stanley twisted around, gripping the seat's back so hard his knuckles went white. “Floor it, Ford, it's gaining on us!”

A huge monster rose behind them, throwing a massive shadow over the road. The thing was over thirty feet tall, a crazy conglomeration of glaring eyes, sharp teeth, and bright red hats.

It ripped up a redwood as easily as a dandelion, took aim, and threw. Ford looked up and gasped as the tree soared right over their heads, landing so hard it bounced on the road in front of them.

“Look out!”

Ford jerked the wheel. The golf cart careened, tipping left, then right, skidding crazily. The tree's huge trunk loomed like a brick wall. They braced themselves against the dash and screamed.

A few days earlier...

The bus pulled away from the stop sign, leaving Ford and his brother standing alone on the sidewalk. Stanley had his sleeves rolled up, revealing the superhero-themed band aids on his arms, and the suitcase sitting next to him was covered with half-chewed gum.

Ford was wearing his signature aviator jacket, his notebook sticking out of the back pocket of his jeans. His suitcase was covered with stickers of ghosts and monsters.

Ford shoved his hands in his jacket pockets, looking around expectantly. The town's main road was lined with a few stores, most of them restaurants, plus some arcades, a couple of hardware stores, and a grocery store. Aside from a few random pedestrians, the street was empty.

“She does know we're coming, right?” he asked anxiously.

“Dude, who cares?” Stanley put a foot on his suitcase and struck a heroic pose, shading his eyes like an explorer in a new land. He peered at the redwoods that surrounded the town. “Did you even see this place? It's got nothing but forest for miles! It's the perfectly place for buried treasure!”

Ford rolled his eyes, grinning. “Stanley, we don't have treasure yet.”

“Not yet we don't, but I'll bet you anything we'll find it!” Just then Stan's stomach rumbled. He looked down at it. “Right. First things first. Food time!”

Ford opened his mouth to say they should wait to be picked up, but his stomach cut him off. It had been an eight-hour bus ride and he was seriously hungry. He looked around.

“I think I saw a diner around here...”

“There!” Stanley pointed. There was a restaurant set back against the woods, with a flickering neon sign that read Greasy's Diner.

“Sounds...greasy. We don't even have any money,” Ford pointed out. “You spent our food allowance buying those dumb scratch cards. And all they had on 'em were football players with omelets.”

Stanley shrugged cheerfully. “Don't worry, Sixer, the puppy-dog face works every time! Race you to the door!” He ran into the street.

There was a roar and a screech of tires. Ford yelled. Stanley jumped back, narrowly avoiding a bright purple motorcycle. Stan lay on the ground, shaking a little, and Ford ran to help him up. He glared at the driver.

“Hey, watch where you're going!” he growled.

The rider, a heavy-set woman in a blue blazer and pink skirt, revved the engine. “'Scuse you,” the lady grumped, her voice muffled. “What were ya tryin' to do, kid? That is not how you paint the town red.”

“Guh-guh-guh,” Stanley stammered.

The rider paused, then flicked up the visor. She blinked. “Stanley?”

He stared at her. “Huh?”

“It is you!” She whipped off the helmet. Her gray hair was pulled back in a messy bun, and she had a heart-shaped face with light green eyes that glowed with warmth. “And you must be Stanford!” she said to Ford. “You two have grown so much I didn't even recognize you!”

The twins gaped.

“Grauntie Mabel?” Ford finally asked.

“The one and only! Hop aboard, kids, we got a lot of work to do at the Shack!”

They looked at the bike. It wasn't just purple. It was glittery purple, with a chrome finish and a matching side car so rusted it looked ready to disintegrate on the spot.

“Um, there's just one seat,” Ford said.

“Meh, you're each, like, half of an adult! So together you'll be fine!”

A slow grin spread across Stanley's face. “She's got you there, Sixer!” He scrambled to his feet. “So you're really Grauntie Mabel? I don't remember you being so fat.”

“And I don't remember you being so ugly,” she said cheerfully. “Now grab your gear and get in, time is money!”

They hauled their suitcases into the sidecar. It was so small they had to sit with their knees pressed to their chest and they couldn't even take a deep breath. She tossed them a couple of helmets and then took off with a roar, tearing down the quiet road at a decidedly illegal speed.

The bike's engine was too loud for talking, but the town had sights enough to keep them occupied. There was a church, a deserted convenience store, a junkyard, and a gigantic mall. Ford caught his brother staring at the mall, mouthing “babes” with a familiar gleam in his eye. Ford laughed.

The buildings petered out as they turned onto Gopher Road. The forest, which was always in the background of the town, now loomed up around them. The redwoods spiced the air with a sharp, earthy smell. Beams of sunlight sliced the forest with bars of yellow light. Motes of dust and quick-winged birds darted through the canopy, and wind rustled the treetops, which were high enough to touch the clouds.

But the trees grew so thick that they cast deep shadows starting just a few feet from the road. More than once Ford thought he saw movement in those shadows – things that scuttled and creeped and seemed to be watching them as they passed. He shivered.

The sudden appearance of the clearing drove the thought from his mind. Mostly because of what was in the clearing.

A two-story, steeple-roofed cabin stood in the middle of the lawn, completely covered in hot pink glitter, right up to the weathervane (which, instead of the cardinal directions, had the letters W, H, A, and T). Under the gaudy sparkles, he could make out a large sign reading “MYSTERY SHACK” positioned on the roof, with a dozen smaller advertisements above the front and side entrances. An enormous pig lounged on the front porch. A sign next to it read, 'Picture With Pig - $50!' A Native American totem pole was rose a few yards away, but it was hard to tell what the animals were, since all of them were wearing sweaters of various neon colors.

“Um, wow,” Stan said dubiously, as soon as the engine died.

“Don't mind the glitter,” Mabel said cheerfully. “The girls and I just went a little nuts on our last sleepover.”

“Sleepover?” Stanley muttered to Ford. “But she's, like, grandma-age.”

They got out of the sidecar, grabbed their suitcases, and followed their great-aunt. The pig opened one eye and oinked at them, but otherwise didn't move.

The inside, at least, was less sparkly. They'd entered through the Mystery Shack's Gift Shop. Wood floors, wood walls, and a wood ceiling gave off a definite 'cabin' vibe. Most of the walls were covered in overpriced merchandise and taxidermy monstrosities. There were some clothing racks on the right, next to some tables loaded with snow globes and Grauntie Mabel bobbleheads. The back wall had a vending machine and two doorways, one marked “Employees Only” and the other marked “Museum”. The cash register was on their left, under a stuffed bear head with a narwhal horn glued to its brow. A red-haired teenager in a flannel shirt sat behind the register, his face jammed into a Manly Muscles magazine.

Their great-aunt stood in the center of the shop, legs planted wide and hands at her hips. “Alright, kids, welcome to the Mystery Shack!” she said, gesturing grandly. “Meet our first underpaid employee: Flannel Man!”

“It's 'Boyish Dan',” the teen grunted, without glancing up.

“I'll call you that when you stop reading at work!” Mabel sang. “Flannel Man, meet my great-nephews...my grephews?...Stanley and Stanford Pines!”

“Just 'Ford,'” Ford said, at the same time Stan said, “Just 'Stan'.”

“We also have a mechanic around here somewhere,” Mabel told them. “She's usually fixing things, or breaking them, or both at the same time...oh, Maria! Perfect timing!”

The Employees Only door opened, and a woman in her early twenties stepped through. She wore a faded green hat over her curly dark brown hair, a size-XXXL Mystery Shack shirt, and khaki shorts. One hand gripped a tool box, and the other held a broom.

Grauntie Mabel smiled. “Ria, this is Stan and Ford! My grephews! I told you they'd be coming today.”

“Nice to meet you,” Ria said politely. “Mrs. Pines, I fixed the pipes, but I might've broken the copy machine.”

“Oh, that wasn't you, it's been broken for ages,” Mabel assured her. “Anyway, you two boys go throw your stuff in the attic, and then come back down. I've got a tour bus coming at eleven hundred sharp and I need this place to look spic 'n' span!”

“Wait-wait-wait,” Stan said quickly, holding up his hands. “You mean we're gonna do chores?! But we're on summer vacation!”

Their great-aunt pulled two orange coveralls from behind her back. They had black letters on the front reading “Unpaid Intern #1” and “Unpaid Intern #2” on them in big black letters. She grinned mischievously.

“Not anymore! Now get to work, suckers!”

Stanley managed to talk Grauntie Mabel out of the overalls, but she wasn't kidding about making them work. In the first two days of their stay, they scrubbed the Shack from roof to lawn, swept the house, cleaned out the fridge (Ford swore that was actual glitter in that chicken casserole), and reorganized practically the entire Gift Shop. The only thing they didn't clean was the vending machine, which Mabel declared off-limits after she caught Stan stealing twelve candy bars at a time. They'd even had to re-sew some of the taxidermic monstrosities in the Museum.

The exhibits in there drove Ford crazy. It was all he could do not to shout out corrections when she guided tourists through, calling jackalopes “Antelabbits” and introducing them to bizarre creatures like the “Centaurtaur.” Ford was pretty sure she'd just made that up.

Stan, however, loved it. There was at least one hot babe per bus, and he was determined to make a move on every single one.

Ford watched his brother approach a blue-eyed brunette who was browsing through the shirt rack.

“Do you know a good dentist?” Stan asked, leaning casually on the rack and grinning. “'Cuz you're so sweet I'm gonna get cavities.”

She leaned away from him. “Um, ew.”

Stan didn't give up. “So do you have a name, or should I just call you 'mine'?”

“You can call a lawyer, 'cuz I'm about to sue for harassment,” she snapped, and stalked out of the shop.

This had happened so many times that Stanley didn't even look fazed. He scoffed, turned to the window, and eyed the next busload of tourists shuffling around the lawn.

“Welp,” he said, “one babe down, thirteen to go!”

Ford rolled his eyes. “Stan, some of those girls are like, Mom's age.” He wiped off a jar of eyeballs (which he was convinced watched him when he wasn't looking). “I know you're getting all girl-crazy, but could you turn it down a notch?”

“Not until I get a girlfriend,” Stan said with determination. “All those girls in Jersey were stupid-heads. Now that we're here, I'm going to find the perfect girl to date me.”

“That doesn't mean flirting with every girl you see. Remember when you hit on that lady with a pet turtle? She looked ten years older than you!”

“So I have a thing for older women.” Stan threw one arm around his brother. “Come on, Sixer, I need a wingman! We can both land a hot girl this summer!”

Ford glanced reflexively at his hands, but Stan didn't notice.

“Besides,” he went on, “I got a good feeling about this summer! I wouldn't be surprised if the girl of my dreams walked through that door right now!”

The second Stan pointed to the front door, Grauntie Mabel walked through it and belched up a handful of glitter.

“Ugh, eating actual glitter, not good, ow,” she grumbled.

“Ew, why?!” Stan yelped. Ford laughed.

“Alright, people,” Mabel announced, “I need someone to go hammer these signs in the spooky part of the forest!”

“Not it!” Stan yelled.

“Not it!” Ford echoed.

“Uh, also not it!” Ria called, nailing up a new shelf on the wall.

“No worries, Ria. Flannel Man, I need you to put up these signs for me, please!”

He glanced up. “That's a left-handed hammer. I only use my right hand! The manly hand!” He leaped to his feet. “I'm gonna go make a right-handed hammer right now! HYAAAH!” He ran out the door.

“Oh, not again,” Mabel muttered. “Alright, let's make it eenie, meenie, miney...you.” She pointed to Ford.

He flinched. “What? But Grauntie Mabel, whenever I'm in those woods I feel like I'm being watched.”

“I've been in those woods a hundred times, kiddo. How many times do I have to tell you there's nothing scary in there?”

“Except maybe bears,” Stan added.

“Why don't you do it?” Ford demanded, looking at Stan. “You're the one who wanted to hunt for buried treasure!”

“Nope, she picked you, sucker! See ya!” He dashed out the door after Boyish Dan.

“But it's creepy!” Ford insisted. “I'm telling you, there's something weird about this town. Look – yesterday my mosquito bites spelled out 'BEWARE'!” He pulled up his sleeve to show Mabel.

She peered at it. “First, that says 'BEWARB.' Second, there's no such thing as the supernatural. And third, the longer you wait, the darker it'll get, so hop to it!” She dumped the signs into his arms and moved past him to handle the tourists.

“This is so not fair,” Ford grumbled, hammering up another sign. This deep into the forest, the thick trees cast an eerie shadow over everything. Even the sky looked tombstone gray. “Why doesn't anyone believe me when it comes to the supernatural? I know something's not right here...”

Clang.

Ford blinked. The tree he'd just hammered sounded...metallic. He leaned closer and tapped it again with the hammer.

Clang, clang.

“...huh.”

He ran his fingers over the bark, leaving trails through the dust and dirt. His fingers caught on something and he pulled.

A portion of the tree trunk swung open.

There was a rectangular compartment lined with metal recessed into the tree. Centered on the bottom was some kind of control box, with a dusty screen, a few weird buttons, and a couple of levers. With growing fascination, Ford leaned forward, tapping the buttons and toggling one of the levers.

WHIIRRRR!

Ford spun around. A section of the grass had retracted, revealing another compartment set into the ground.

Grauntie Mabel's pig, which had apparently followed him out here with surprising stealth, gave a startled oink and waddled quickly away.

Ford hurried over.

The compartment was full of cobwebs, millipedes, beetles – and one very old, very filthy book, covered in layers of dirt and dust. Ford picked it up carefully and blew the dust away.

The book was bound in deep blue leather, the corners reinforced with a dull bronze-colored metal. In the middle of the cover was a gold pine tree with the number “3” written on it, shimmering against the blue background. The book looked very old, and very strange, like an ancient tome from some kind of secret society.

“Whoa,” he breathed. He laid it carefully on the grass. His head was spinning with questions. Who would hide a book way out here, in such an elaborate hiding spot? Who built the mechanisms? What amazing secrets were written on these very pages?

He opened the book.

The inside cover had an owner's label, but the name had been ripped off. There was a monocle attached to the binding. He picked it up for a moment, weighing it in his hand, before he turned the page and began reading aloud.

“'It's hard to believe it's been six years since I began studying the strange and wondrous secrets of Gravity Falls, Oregon.'”

Secrets? Ford was right – there was something going on in Gravity Falls!

He flipped eagerly through the pages. They were filled with illustrations of strange beasts – eyebats, gnomes, gremloblins, with notes taken in precise cursive. There were also several lines of strange symbols and numbers, obviously some kind of code.

“What is all this?” Ford whispered.

He stopped flipping the pages and started to read again. A bold subtitle had caught his eye: Trust no one.

“'Unfortunately, my suspicions have been confirmed. I'm being watched. I must hide this journal before he finds it. Remember, in Gravity Falls, there is no one you can trust!'” He picked up the book and stared at the words. “No one you can trust...”

“HELLO!”

“GAH!” Ford jumped and nearly dropped the book.

Stan sat on the log behind him, grinning from ear to ear. “I swear, Sixer, I shoulda pretended to be a bear. Betcha woulda peed your pants! Hey –” He caught sight of the book in Ford's hands. “Whatcha readin' there, some nerd thing?”

“Uh – uhhh, it's nothing!” Ford said, hiding the book under one arm.

“'Uhhh, it's nothing!'” Stanley mimicked, laughing again. “What, are you actually not gonna show me?”

Ford felt a slight tugging on his book. Grauntie Mabel's stealth pig had come back and was chewing the cover.

He tugged it away. “Let's go somewhere private.”

Stan raised an eyebrow. “We're in the middle of the forest, bro,” he pointed out. But he followed Ford back to the Shack.

Since the pig wasn't allowed in the house, Ford went to the Shack's living room to show Stan the journal. There was a tour bus out front, so he figured their great-aunt would be busy for a while. He didn't really want to share the journal with her. She didn't believe in the supernatural, anyway.

“Ok, so what's the big thing with some dumb book?” Stan asked impatiently, jumping onto their Grauntie's orange chair.

He took the book out of his jacket, smiling down at it. “It's amazing – Grauntie Mabel said there's no such thing as the supernatural, but according to this book, Gravity Falls has a secret dark side.”

“Whoa, shut up!”

“And get this! After a certain point, the pages just – stop, like the guy who was writing it mysteriously disappeared!” He held up the blank pages to show his brother.

“Do you think he was eaten by one of those monsters?” Stan asked.

“Hey – maybe!” Ford said. He hadn't thought of that. “But he hid it first, so I don't think he got eaten. Plus, the author says he was being watched, so I don't think it was a random monster.” He started pacing as he talked. “If he knew he was being watched, did he take steps to protect himself? Is the author still around somewhere? Could he be someone in town? There are some coded parts of the journal in here. I bet if I could crack them, I could figure out what happened, maybe who the author really is!”

Stanley grinned at him. “If anybody can do it, it's you! You're the smartest guy I know!”

Ding dong.

Ford looked up. “Who's that?”

His brother grinned. “Welp, time to spill the beans!” He reached over and flicked an empty can of beans sitting on Mabel's stack of romance novels. The can tipped over. “Haha, beans. This guy's got a date with destiny!”

Ford raised his eyebrows. “Let me get this straight. In the thirty minutes I've been gone, you've already managed to find a girlfriend?”

“Well, not exactly.” Stan ran off to answer the door. Ford hopped up on the chair and sat down to read.

Grauntie Mabel walked in. “Whatcha readin' there, kiddo?” she asked.

He jumped. “Oh – uh, uh –” Ford hid the book behind him and grabbed a novel from the stack. “Just reading, um...Wolf Man, Big Chest?”

“That's a good series,” she commented, taking a swig of Pit Cola.

“Alright, family!” Stan announced, marching proudly into the room. “Say hello to my new buddy, Norman!”

A slouching, black-hoodied teenager shuffled into the room. He wore dark pants and a black hoodie, all covered with bits of dirt and grass, with an actual tree root sticking out of his hood. When he turned to greet them, his face was paper-white, and his eyes were round and bloodshot.

He looked at them. “'Sup.”

“Hey,” Ford said, just as Mabel said, “Hi there!”

“We met at the cemetery,” Stan said. “He hangs out there all the time. Isn't that cool?”

“Um, are you bleeding, Norman?” Ford asked, pointing to something red and drippy on Norman's chin.

Norman's eyes darted nervously. “It's jam,” he rasped.

“Anyway, we're going treasure-hunting!” Stan declared. “You wanna come, Ford?”

The journal pressed into Ford's back. “Um...maybe later,” he said.

“Aw, come on! We were gonna go hunt for treasure! You know you're gonna love it.”

“No thanks,” Ford said, a little more firmly. “I've got...summer reading to do.”

“Oh...” Stan looked dubiously t the book's hiding place. “Fine. Come on, Norman!” he yelled, racing for the door. “Last one out's a rotten egg!”

Norman raised a hand in farewell, walked into a wall, and stumbled after Stan.

Ford got up from the chair, hiding the journal in his jacket, and went to the window. He frowned, watching them leave. “Did Norman seem...normal, to you?” he asked Grauntie Mabel. But he wasn't really expecting an answer. She'd already started rereading that lame romance novel.

He touched the journal, thinking hard. If there was something supernatural about Norman, maybe it could give him some clues.

Half of the upstairs attic was taken up by his and Stan's bedroom. The other half was empty, utterly devoid of furniture with the exception of a single bay window, with stained red glass decorated with a triangular design. Ford sat on the cushioned seat, scooting close to the window to make the most of the light.

He flipped through the book until he found something that caught his eye. It was a hunched figure with its limbs held out stiffly, bearing an uncanny resemblance to Norman.

He started to read. “'Known for their pale skin and bad attitude, these monsters are commonly mistaken for teenagers. Beware of Gravity Falls' notorious –’” he gasped. “ZOMBIE?!”

Grauntie Mabel looked up from the bathroom mirror.

“What was that? 'Crombie'?” she wondered. “No, maybe it was chompy. Or maybe hungry. Hey, I should finish off that Chicken-Glitter Casserole!”

Ford jumped up to a kneeling position and pressed against the glass. There! Stanley was sitting on the picnic table, concentrating on a piece of paper spread out before him. Norman was stalking towards him, arms outstretched, grunting with every step. Stanley was so focused that he was utterly oblivious to the danger.

“Oh no – Stanley!” Ford shouted, but his brother couldn't hear him.

Norman came closer. He loomed over Stanley.

He grabbed him –

Ford yelled –

And Norman pulled back, a miner's helmet on Stan's head. Stanley turned around, grinning and feeling his new hat.

“Is this a real miner's helmet?!” he asked, reaching up to flick the light. It blinked on and off, visible even in the bright sunshine. “Wow! Where did you get this? It's so cool!”

Ford slumped with relief, watching for a few seconds longer as the two of them started pointing to stuff on the paper. From here, it looked like it was some kind of map.

He drew back, shutting the book and sticking it under his arm. For all he knew, the teen was just another emo teenager. But he couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't right. He held the journal more tightly.

“Is Norman really a zombie,” he muttered, “or am I just going nuts?”

“It's a dilemma, to be sure.”

Ford jumped and spun around. Ria was on a step stool, changing the bulb in the attic's ceiling lamp. Ford hadn't even heard her come in.

He hesitated, but he needed to think this through with someone. “Ria, you've seen Norman, right?” he asked. “He's gotta be a zombie!”

“Hmm. How many brains have you seen him eat?” she asked politely.

He sighed. “Zero.”

She stepped off the stool, wiping the dust from her hands. “Don't fret, chiquito. I do believe you. There are many strange things that happen in this town. The florist, for example. I am almost certain that he is a satyr.”

Ford knew who she was talking about. The florist's shoes made weird clopping noises, he always wore a hat even indoors, and he had flower petals everywhere – even between his teeth.

“But you must have evidence,” Ria continued. “Otherwise, people will simply believe that you are one piece shy of a chess set.”

“I guess you're right,” Ford conceded.

She nodded sagely. “Wisdom is both a blessing and a curse.”

Grauntie Mabel's voice called up to them. “Ria! The portable toilets are clogged again!”

Ria straightened her hat. “I must get the special vacuum.” She held the step stool like a shield and marched out of the room.

Ford looked after her, thinking hard. Ria was right. He'd need some actual proof that Norman was a zombie...hadn't he seen a camera left in the Lost 'N' Found box in the Gift Shop? Grauntie Mabel always waited until the end of the day, then emptied the box, stuck price tags on everything, and resold it as “haunted merchandise”. He could borrow the camera and return it later for her to sell. If he followed Norman around, he'd be able to film actual proof that Norman really was a zombie.

A slow smile spread over his face. He'd be a hero – he could protect his brother, prove the existence of the supernatural to his great-aunt, maybe even get an article published in the newspaper. This was definitely a good plan.

It was time to collect some evidence!

“Here, let's take this one, too,” Stanley said. He and Norman had gone straight to the closest hardware store and begun stocking up on supplies, using Norman's zipped-up jacket as their shopping cart. He shoved a second flashlight down Norman's collar and stood back to admire the effect. With all the stuff they'd packed in, the jacket bulged in unlikely places, but they could just say he'd broken both arms or something. “Perfect,” he decided. “Man, how do you fit all that stuff in there?”

Norman eyed the next item doubtfully. Stanley was holding a shovel almost as tall as himself – three and a half feet long with a wide, pointy steel blade. “Uh, I don't know about the shovel...”

“Well I'm not paying for a perfectly stealable shovel. Are you?” Stanley twirled it like a baton. “Won't we need two of these?”

Norman grunted. “You dig it up, you get 80% of the gold.”

“Well hot dog! You got yourself a deal!” Stanley practically danced with glee – then remembered not to do that. Ford was the only one who didn't laugh when he danced.

Thinking of Ford made his chest twinge. If his brother hadn't found that stupid book with its stupid mysteries, maybe they'd be doing this together...

He gave himself a good mental shake. So what? He and Norman would dig up the gold using the treasure map they'd found, and they'd get filthy rich and Ford would be incredibly jealous, and then Stan could use the gold to buy all the fancy monster-hunting equipment Ford wanted and they'd go exploring the forest together for the rest of their natural lives. In a limo. In two limos!

“C'mon, c'mon, let's get out of here!” Stanley whispered excitedly. “We got some gold to find!”

They picked the lock on the Emergency Exit door and snuck out. Norman insisted they pick up provisions at “the place with ingredients for pie”, which Stan guessed meant the grocery store. But first they decided to dump their equipment at the cemetery. There was a tombstone with a winged angel pointing at something, and her wings were big enough to hide their stuff behind.

Stan threw the shovel in the dirt like a harpoon. A pile of blankets was already stacked there, plus a wagon loaded with a pickaxe and a coil of rope from their previous tool heist.

“Dude, you're like, an expert at this,” Stan said. “By the end of the day, we're gonna be filthy ri–”

“WAGH!”

Stan turned right as Norman did a face-plant in an open grave, spraying him with dirt and gravel. After a second, Norman crawled his way to the surface. Stan burst out laughing.

“Oh, man, that was hilarious!” he gasped, bent double from laughing so hard.

Norman laughed along with him. Stan knelt by the edge of the grave. “Dude, you are covered in dirt. You look like a zombie! Wait – it's like a zombie swimming pool! Swim through the dirt!” He started chanting. “Swim through the dirt! Swim through the dirt!”

Norman grunted and tried to pull himself out. Tools fell out of his jacket and pants. Stan looked down at the grave in dismay.

“Aw, man, you dumped it all.”

Norman handed him the shovel. “Here. Practice.”

“Uh, you're the one who dumped it.”

“I'm...like...not crawling back into an open grave.”

Stan scoffed. “Chicken.” He jumped in feet-first. The dirt was all soft on top, soft enough to move with his hands, so digging was no problem. He brought up their flashlights, thermoses, and a waterproof watch before he noticed Norman watching him. There was a hungry kind of look in his eyes.

“Um...dude. You're freaking me out.”

“Sorry. You're really good at digging.”

“Whatever. Get the stuff and pull me out, would you?”

Norman put a hand down, but when Stan went to grab it, he somehow lost his grip and went tumbling back in the grave. He banged the shovel on his knee.

“Ow!”

“You okay?”

“Ugh...” Stan rubbed the back of his head. “I swear I'm gonna have, like, three concussions and amnesia by the time this summer's over. Get a better grip this time, okay?”

Norman helped him out of the grave and they piled all their stuff in the wagon. By that point, they both looked so filthy that Stan knew they'd never make it in and out of the grocery store without getting caught. You had to look nice and respectable for people's eyes to glaze over you, and somehow grave dirt just wasn't the fashion style of the season.

Fashion style? Ew! Grauntie Mae's rubbing off on me. Definitely time for some manly gold-digging.

Aaand that sounded wrong.

“Let's just get back to the Shack,” Stan said angrily, scowling at the wagon. “You pull, I'll push. We can just grab some stuff from the kitchen and fill up our thermoses there.”

Ford paced the living room angrily, the camera in his hands, disgusted with the wasted day. He'd followed Stan around for the past five hours, and while he'd gotten plenty of evidence of Stan's sticky fingers, there was absolutely nothing to suggest that Norman was anything other than a very awkward teenager.

He heard Stanley slam the back door. It was easy to tell who it was, since he grumbled under his breath the whole way up the stairs. Ford headed up as well and entered their bedroom just as Stanley was putting on a fresh shirt.

“Stanley!” Ford said. “We've gotta talk about Norman.”

“Isn't he the coolest?” Stan asked. He held up his right forearm and pointed. “Check out this neat scar I got!”

“Gah!” Ford stared, alarmed. The scar was at least a foot long and bright pink, the skin around it mottled and purple.

“Haha! Gullible.” Stanley put his arm down and rubbed it. “It's just some paint, see? We painted the wagon we're using. I called it 'The Stanleymobile!'”

Right. Ford had seen Stan and Norman outside earlier, messing around with paint and a rickety-looking wagon. They'd tried to use a leaf blower to make it dry faster and ended up having a sword fight with the blower and a shovel.

Stanley smiled. “That was fun, Sixer, you shoulda joined us!”

Ford shook his head. “No, Stanley, listen – I'm trying to tell you that Norman is not what he seems!” He pulled out the journal, its gold-leaf pine tree glinting ominously.

Stan thought for a second. “Do you think he could be a werewolf? That would be so awesome!”

“Guess again, Stanley,” Ford said, and flipped quickly through the pages. He held it up dramatically. “Sha-BAM!”

Stan yelled in surprise, then frowned. “Wait, what?”

Ford checked the page. “Oh, oh wait, hang on –” He had flipped it to that page about gnomes, all chubby-cheeked and starry-eyed. He turned the pages back until he found the one on zombies. “Okay, sha-BAM!”

Stan was not impressed. “A zombie? That is not funny, Ford.”

“I'm not joking!” Ford started to pace the room. Why didn't anyone believe him? Not Grauntie Mabel, and now not Stan?! He knew what he was talking about! “Look, it all adds up – the bleeding, the limp... He never blinks! Have you noticed that?”

“Maybe he's blinking when you're blinking,” Stanley said.

“Stanley, remember what the book said?” Ford whispered urgently. “'Trust no one!'”

Stan rolled his eyes. “Well what about me, huh? Why can't you trust me?”

Ford grabbed his brother by the shoulders. “Stanley, he's gonna eat your brain!”

Stanley frowned and pushed his hands away. “Stanford, listen to me. You can join us or not, but Norman and I are going treasure-hunting at five o' clock.” He started marching toward Stanford, who was forced to back up a step at a time. “And we're gonna find an awesome pile of gold,” Stan continued, “and we're gonna spend it however we want, and I'm not gonna let you ruin it with your crazy conspiracies!”

Stan slammed the bedroom door in Ford's face.

Ford sighed and slid to the floor, sitting against the door. “Oh man...what am I gonna do?”

Eventually he pulled himself to his feet and dragged himself downstairs, where he flopped on the yellow armchair. He pulled out the video camera and flipped open the viewing screen, glumly rewinding and fast-forwarding various moments of the day. There wasn't even a shred of proof...

The doorbell rang.

“Coming!” Stan yelled.

Ford glanced over the arm of the chair. He had a pretty good view of the front door. Norman was standing in the entrance, as pale and creepy as ever.

Stanley ran to the door, wearing clean(ish) clothes and his miner's helmet. “How do I look?” Stan asked, adjusting the hat. “Do I look like a real treasure-hunter?”

“Cool,” Norman grunted.

“The map's on the picnic table. Let's grab it and get hunting!” He grabbed Norman's sleeve and yanked him outside. Ford kept watching as they grabbed a wagon loaded with food and tools and started lugging it into the forest.

Ford turned away from the door with a groan. “Ugh, maybe Ria was right. I don't have any real evidence...” He watched a brief clip of Stan teaching Norman how to play cards while they ate stolen candy bars. He thumbed the fast-forward button absently. It reached the part where he'd been spying on the two of them in the cemetery. Ford watched as Norman fell into the grave, then climbed out. Totally creepy, but nothing supernatural about it at all. He sank a little lower in the chair. “I guess I can be kind of paranoid sometimes and...”

On the screen, Norman try to pull Stan out of the grave. Norman pulled and his hand popped off just as Stan slipped, falling back into –

“Wait. WHAT!?”

He rewound it again, watching closely. Just as Norman started to pull Stan out of the grave, Norman's hand fell off his wrist! Norman quickly popped it back on when Stan wasn't looking!

Ford yelled in triumph and actually knocked over the chair.

“I was right!” he shouted, scrambling to climb over the seat. “I was right, I knew it, I was –” He stopped short. His brother was out there right now, in a creepy forest with a zombie who wanted to eat his brains!

“Omigosh, omigosh!” He darted for the door. He had to get help! “Grauntie Mabel, Grauntie Mabel!”

He sprinted around the Shack. His great-aunt was giving a tour to some sweaty-looking tourists. She led them to a rather large rock set atop a thick pole, sitting in front of the Shack.

“And here we have Rock-That-Looks-Like-A-Face Rock,” she said proudly. “'The Rock that Looks like a Face.'”

One of the tourists raised his hand. “Does it look like a rock?” he asked, his accent twanging.

“What?” Mabel frowned at him. “No, it looks like a face.”

“Is it a face?” asked another tourist.

“It's a rock that looks like a face.”

Ford rushed up and tried to get around them, but there was no room. He jumped up and down, waving his arms from the back of the crowd. “Over here! Grauntie Mabel!”

She was too engrossed in her argument with the tourists. “For the fifth time, it's not an actual face!”

Ford ground his teeth in frustration.

Stan wiped the sweat from his forehead, leaving a long streak of black dirt on his face. The hole he'd dug was five feet wide and just as deep, with one side of it slanted so he could go up and down like a ramp. The sun was slowly going down, so half of the hole got some good shade, but the other half was right in the sun's path. Every time he stood on that side he got blinded. Sweat rolled down his face and back, making his shirt stick to him like the wrapper on a pastrami sandwich.

“This is taking forever!” Stan complained. He glared up at Norman. “Why aren't you helping more?”

Norman knelt at the side of the hole and handed him a water bottle. “I am helping. Besides, you're almost there.”

“Where, the center of the earth?” Stan threw down the water bottle and stabbed at the ground with the shovel. “Come on! I've been digging solo this whole time, and there's nothing even here –”

TWANG.

The shovel bounced back in Stan's hand. They both stared at the ground.

Stan's eyes went wide. “Is that...?”

“Grauntie Mabel, Grauntie Mabel!” Ford shouted, but he still couldn't get her attention and he knew time had to be running out!

A sudden movement caught his eye. Boyish Dan was parking the golf cart next to the “Pet the Pig” sign.

“Boyish Dan!” Ford ran over to him. “Dan, I need to borrow the golf cart so I can save my brother from a zombie!”

Dan squinted at him. Then he shrugged and dropped the keys into Ford's hand. “Don't hit pedestrians!” he barked, stalking toward the Gift Shop. Ford smiled with relief. Dan was pretty cool.

He hopped in the cart. It was almost exactly like that bumper car he'd ridden at the fair when he was six. He turned the key, shifted the gear stick, and hit the gas, heading straight for the forest.

“Chiquito, it's me, Ria.”

Ford hit the brakes. What was Ria doing just standing in the middle of the lawn?

“This is in case you see a zombie,” Ria said, handing him a large shovel.

“Thanks.” He stowed it in the back seat of the cart.

“And this is in case you see a pinata.” She handed him a baseball bat.

“Uh...thanks?” He put it by the shovel and hit the gas.

“Better safe than sorry!” she called cheerfully, as he zoomed towards the forest.

“Oh, man, I've never seen this much gold in my life!” Stan laughed. He'd dumped the treasure chest out on the bottom of the hole and was digging through the pile of gold coins, running them through his fingers. They glittered in the orange light of the setting sun. He grabbed two fistfuls and threw them up in the air, yelling with delight until they fell back down and pummeled him on the head. “Ow!”

“This is amazing!” Norman said. “I can't believe you dug this up all by yourself!”

“I know, right!” Stan paused, squinting up at Norman. “Yeah, I did do all the work myself. You know, I'm thinking we may need to renegotiate our shares, here.”

“Oh, you can hang on to all of it.”

Stanley stared at him. “Huh?”

Norman seemed not to hear. “Man, look at this! And this was supposed to be one of the harder ones to dig up, too. You did it in an hour flat!”

“...Yeah...” Stan looked from the gold to Norman and back again. Norman really wasn't making any kind of grab for it. He'd just said Stan could have it all, just like that. Something was definitely fishy here. Was it possible Norman had tricked him?

He picked up an old-looking coin. It was worn smooth on one side, but the other side had some kind of sketchy engraving he couldn't quite make out. He knew better than to bite it – if it really was gold, he would dent the metal and decrease the coin's value. He weighed it in his palm. He'd gotten pretty good at that while working at the family pawn shop, and this felt like real gold.

So why would Norman just...?

He looked up. A bunch of foot-high men in bright red caps were standing exactly where Norman had been.

Stan shrieked and fell back on his butt.

“Relax, kid, wouldja?” one of the short guys said impatiently. It was Norman! Or at least Norman's face and voice.

“You – you –” Stan sputtered.

“Right, right, I'll explain.” Norman brushed the hair out of his eyes and smacked one hand with the other. “So! We're gnomes! Got that one out of the way.” He nodded at the other gnomes, all of whom were standing on stilts or carrying fake plastic arms. “I'm Jeff,” he said, “And that's Carson, Steve, Jason, and...I'm sorry, I always forget your name.”

The last gnome, who looked like a wild-eyed Santa Claus, blinked slowly. “Schmebulock,” he said, with a voice like a bunch of falling gravel.

Jeff snapped his fingers. “Right! Schmebulock! Yes! Anyway...” He turned back to Stan.

Stanley blinked rapidly, trying to put it all together. If that was Norman's face...then...Norman had really been a bunch of gnomes the whole time?!

“I still keep the gold,” Stan said flatly. “You said I could, and I did all the digging, and you didn't even pay for the stuff we stole, so –”

“Relax, kid, you can have all that and more!”

Stan blinked again, stunned. “There's more?”

“Sure!” Jeff pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and waved it around. “Us gnomes got into a fight with a giant hellhound a while ago, and long story short, it buried all our treasure. We've got whole boxes of the stuff buried all over the forest!”

Stan's eyes gleamed. “More gold, huh? You don't say.”

“Yep! But we're not exactly cut out to be diggers, and any tools we steal are definitely not gnome-sized. That's why us gnomes have been looking for a new servant!”

“Say what now?”

“Well, more like slave-labor, really. But it's a great deal!” Jeff nodded enthusiastically. “We offer full medical and dental coverage, plus all the pie we can steal. All you have to do is dig up all of our gold and guard it for the rest of eternity!”

“Are you crazy?” Stan demanded. “I get enough of that child labor stuff from Grauntie Mabel. You're lucky I don't sue your red-capped butts right now! I'm takin' my gold and I'm outta here.”

“We understand.” Jeff and his gnome friends glanced at each other. “Well, Stan...we tried it the easy way.”

Stan backed up. “Huh?”

All five gnomes bared teeth as sharp as a shark's. Stan yelled and threw up his arms as they jumped into the hole, their beady eyes glittering with greed.

“Don't worry, Stanley!” Ford shouted, his foot pressed to the gas. “I'll save you from that zombie!” Luckily, he'd seen the map they'd been using from the window of the attic. He had a pretty good memory. He knew he was to be close to wherever Stan and that zombie were trying to go.

Suddenly Stan's voice echoed through the trees to Ford's left. “Help!” he cried.

“Hold on!” Ford veered off the trail and drove into the trees, heading deeper and deeper into the shadows. The farther he went, the more he noticed an odd bluish light that seemed to come from the forest around him, tinting the foliage mint-green and aqua. The pine-needle carpet was swiftly replaced with odd blue mosses dotted with pink flowers and the occasional clump of mushrooms. There was an off-road path through the trees wide enough for the golf cart, and Ford pressed the accelerator, listening for his brother.

There was a clearing of sorts up ahead. A bunch of tiny red-capped creatures were swarming around a pile of gold. To the left, the rest of the creatures were clustered around Stanley, who was trying to fight them off, throwing punches left and right.

“The more you struggle, the more awkward this is gonna be for everybody!” warned one of the tiny creatures. “Okay, just – get his arm, there, Steve!”

A creature jumped up and tried bite Stan's arm. “Gah! HEY! Let go of me!” he shouted angrily. Another one attacked his midriff and he caught it mid-air with a strong left hook. The thing flew four feet, bounced twice, and landed on its feet next to a tree. It immediately vomited a viscous multicolored bile.

Ford hopped out of the cart and stared. “What the heck is going on here?!”

One of the creatures – men, they looked like little men – scuttled passed and hissed at him. Ford flinched back, dropping the shovel.

“Sixer!” Stanley called. “Norman turned out to be a bunch of gnomes! And they're total jerks!”

Three gnomes stacked themselves up and grabbed Stanley by the hair, swinging from it like monkeys. He yelped and went down.

“Gnomes?” Ford repeated, pulling out the journal. He flipped to the right page – ironically, the same page he'd accidentally shown his brother earlier. The same chubby-cheeked, starry-eyed drawing stared up at him. It was adorable in a creepy, infest-your-grandma's-lawn kind of way. “'Gnomes,'” he read aloud, “'Little men of the Gravity Falls forest. Weaknesses: Unknown.'”

Well that was unhelpful, Ford thought. When he glanced up, the gnomes had tied Stanley to the ground with a bunch of string, like a miniature Gulliver.

“Oh, come on!” Stanley shouted.

“Hey, hey!” Ford marched up to the lead gnome, shovel in hand. “Let go of my brother!”

“Oh, hehe, hey there!” The gnome smiled a little too stiffly. “You know, this is all just a big misunderstanding! Y'see, your brother's not in danger. He's just enslaved to all one thousand of us to become our gold miner for all eternity! Isn't that right, Stan-O?”

“You guys are butt faces!” Stan shouted. A gnome slapped his hands over Stan's mouth.

“Let go of him right now, or else!” Ford threatened.

Jeff glared at him, his face growing darker by the minute. “You think you can stop us, boy? You have no idea what we're capable of. The gnomes are a powerful race! Do not trifle with the –”

Ford scooped him up with the shovel and dumped him to the side.

He yelped indignantly. Ford ignored him and headed straight for Stan, lifting the shovel high and bringing the edge of it down on the strings. Stan jumped up and lashed out at the gnomes, knocking them down and giving them enough time to get away. He stopped to pick something up and Ford grabbed his arm, pulling him towards the golf cart.

“Forget it, Stan, just go!” Ford said.

“He's getting away with our servant!” Jeff yelled. “No, no, no!”

They scrambled into the golf cart. “Seat belt!” Ford barked.

“Mama's boy!” Stan barked back, but he put on the belt and Ford threw it in reverse.

Jeff watched them go, a dark fire burning in his eyes. “You messed with the wrong creatures, boy,” he growled. “Gnomes of the forest, ASSEMBLE!”

Instantly, gnome faces popped out from every nook and crevice in the clearing, crawling from the shadows, literally popping out of the woodwork in the trees. They scuttled towards him, linking arms, climbing onto each other's shoulders, as their collective shadow grew and spread over the ground...

Stan gripped the seat so hard his fingertips went numb. “Hurry, hurry, before they come after us!”

Ford grinned at him. “I wouldn't worry about it. Did you see those little legs? Those suckers are tiny!”

THUMP. THUMP. THUMP.

Ford braked as the whole ground shuddered under their wheels. A shadow fell over the cart and they turned.

Stan gaped. “Dang.”

A thirty-foot conglomeration of gnomes loomed over them, with fingers as thick as telephone poles, arms and legs as thick as train cars, and a huge, sharp-toothed face that came to a hat-shaped point.

Jeff sat at the very top of the point. “Alright, guys, like we practiced!” he called, and yanked a gnome's hat. The giant roared and lifted a huge fist.

“Go go go!” Stan yelled. Ford floored it just in time, and the fist hit the ground where they'd been just a split-second earlier. The fist smashed apart into a pile of angry gnomes. Stanley grabbed the seat for balance and watched, still looking back, as the gnomes quickly regrouped and thundered after them.

“Stanley what's happening?” Ford shouted.

“COME BACK WITH OUR SERVANT!” Jeff howled, his black eyes madder than ever. The gnome giant ran with incredible speed, closing the gap between them in a matter of seconds.

Stan blanched. “Hit the gas hit the gas!”

The giant whipped its arm at them and several razor-toothed gnomes snapped off its fingers and went flying straight for the cart.

Stan grabbed a bat from the back seat. “We got incoming!”

He unbuckled and stood in one smooth motion, hitting the first gnome in the gut with a perfect swing. It went flying into the trees.

“Home run, suckah!”

“Stanley!”

He turned. His brother was fighting off the rest – they were tearing through the cloth roof and climbing down the sides of the cart, shredding whatever they could reach with their teeth. Stanley grinned and wielded the bat like a spear, punching the stupid gnomes flat in the face with the blunt end. One of them tried to bite the bat and Stan smashed the end of it against the hood of the cart, squishing the gnome, which let go and bounced off into the road.

Another gnome swung down from the roof right next to Ford. He yelled, but before Stan could get to it Ford grabbed it by the back of its stupid little jacket and banged it several times against the steering wheel.

“Schmebulock,” groaned the gnome.

Ford smashed it one more time and let it go, and it rebounded off the cart and went tumbling in their dust.

Stan grinned at him. “Way to go, Fo–”

“SCREEEEE!”

A gnome came flying out of nowhere and landed right on Ford's face, squeezing Ford's ears in its vice-like grip.

“I'll save you Ford!” Stan dropped the bat and pummeled the gnome with both fists until he dislodged it with a killer left hook.

“Th-thanks, Stanley,” Ford stammered, swaying slightly and blinking several times.

“Don't mention it.” Stanley had been standing on the seat, but now he crouched down and peered out the back of the cart.

The gnome giant had been gaining all the time, but now it paused and grabbed the nearest tree. It was a redwood at least four stories tall, looked like it had been growing for over a century – and the giant just grabbed it and pulled it up like it was picking daisies! It took aim and threw the tree like a javelin.

“WATCH OUT!” Stan shouted.

Ford glanced back over his shoulder and the two of them yelled with fear as the tree sailed towards them – and then over them. It landed with an incredible BANG in the middle of the path ahead, completely blocking the road.

Stanley threw up his arms as Ford swerved, desperately trying to avoid the tree, screaming as it loomed closer and closer.

The tree had landed with one end propped up on a boulder, with just the smallest gap between the tree and the ground. Ford yanked the wheel hard to the right and the cart skidded under the tree, scraping off bits of bark with the roof of the cart. Ford lost control and the cart started tipping, zooming down the road on just its two right wheels. Stan grabbed the seat – he couldn't reach for the seatbelt or he'd fall out – and Ford pumped the brakes and the gas, trying to regain control. The cart fishtailed, skidding over the road, and finally tipped over, sliding the last ten feet to the Shack.

It took a full minute for Stanley to realize they weren't moving. His head was pounding and the ground spun underneath him. He pulled himself, groaning, from the wreckage of the cart. He glanced over to see his brother standing up shakily, grabbing the bent metal poles of the cart for balance.

The giant gnome stomped towards them, its huge shadow swallowing them up. At its top, Jeff's eyes glittered maliciously. The boys backed up until they were pressed against the wall of the Shack.

“Uh, stay back, gnomes!” Ford yelled shakily. He grabbed the shovel from the back of the cart and threw it.

The giant hit it in mid-air and punched it to the ground.

“AGH!” Ford and Stan jumped.

“Wh-where's Grauntie Mabel?” Ford squeaked.

Inside the Gift Shop, Mabel Pines was demonstrating the newest merchandise to a trio of slack-jawed visitors.

“Behold!” she declared, holding up a toy that looked like a plastic lollipop. It had a swirl pattern decorating the candy part and a string dangling from one side. “The world's most distracting object!”

She pulled the string and the swirl began to turn.

“Ooooh,” the tourists said in unison.

Mabel grinned. “Just try to look away, you can't!” They all stared at the toy, including Mabel. “...Wow, I can't even remember what I was talking about.”

Stan and Ford were trapped between the trash cans and some bushes at the side of the Shack. There was nowhere for them to run, and nothing they could use as a weapon. Stan stood partly in front of his brother, one arm thrown out to protect him. How the heck was he supposed to get them out of this?

“It's the end of the line, kids!” Jeff yelled, looming over them. “Stanley, get over here before we do something crazy!”

“There's gotta be a way outta this,” Ford whispered. He slid the journal partway out of his jacket.

Stan set his jaw. “I gotta do it.”

“What?” Ford grabbed Stan's shoulder. “Stanley, don't do this, are you crazy?”

“Trust me.”

“What?”

“Sixer, just this once.” He turned to look his brother in the eye. “Trust me.”

Ford looked from the monster to Stan and back again. He slowly released Stan's shoulder and backed up.

Stan strode forward. “Alright, Jeff,” he said loudly. “I'll sign your contract.”

Jeff frowned at him. “Contract?”

“Well sure. This is like, a legal agreement, right? I'm going to work for you for eternity and all. Any good boss knows we need a contract to make it legally binding, so I can't run away.”

Jeff rubbed his chin, considering. “I like the way you think, kid!” he said finally. He clapped his hands and started climbing down the giant. “Help me down there, Jason, thanks Andy, whoops – hey Jorge – whoa, watch those fingers, Mike.” He reached the bottom and headed for Stanley, practically strutting, while the gnome-giant stood silently behind him. Stan was thinking furiously, but it looked like he was right – the other gnomes were all staring at Jeff like they didn't know what to do without him. That's what he was counting on.

“Alright kid, where's the contract?”

“You're in luck! We can use the map we left behind earlier,” Stan said. He reached behind the trash cans. “I've got the map and a pen right here...”

He whipped out the leaf blower and switched it on in reverse. Immediately the suction began drawing Jeff towards the blower.

“H-hey, what's going on?!” Jeff tried to back up but slipped on the grass. He grabbed for the ground with his fingers, but the wind was too strong. It yanked him up and he was sucked straight down the pipe. The other gnomes gasped.

“That's for lying to me!” Stan shouted.

He cranked the suction to full. Jeff's body got sucked in until only his cheeks bulged over the rim.

“Ow, my face!”

“That's for taking my gold!”

Stan aimed the blower at the giant gnome monster. It grunted in surprise.

“And this is for messing with my brother!” He glanced at Ford and grinned. “Care to do the honors?”

Ford smiled back. “On three!”

“One!”

“Two!”

“Three!”

Ford flipped the switch to 'blow'. Jeff shot out of the blower like a high-powered rocket. He crashed straight through the giant's chest and out its back.

“I'll get you back for thiiiiis!” he howled, flying at high speed over the treetops and out of sight.

The impact shattered the giant gnome to bits. They broke apart, gnomes falling around them like very ugly confetti. In seconds the lawn was covered with battered gnomes. Their red hats were bent and grass stuck to their sweaty hands and faces. They blinked and looked around blearily, groaning and rubbing their arms and shoulders.

“Ugh...”

“My arms are tired,” one mumbled.

“Who's giving orders?” whined another gnome. “I need orders!”

Stanley shoved the blower at Ford and grabbed his bat. “Anybody else want a piece of this?!” he demanded, swinging the bat like a golf club. He smacked quite a few gnomes on the butt. Ford joined in on the fun, cranking the blower to maximum.

“Yeah, come on!” Ford shouted, laughing.

The gnomes squealed and fled, most of them scampering on all fours into the forest. The twins ran after them, whooping and hollering like maniacs. Even Waddles got in on the action, showing up just in time to drag the last gnome off by its hat.

Ford headed back to the house to replace the leaf blower.

Stan bit his lip. “Hey, Ford.”

His brother turned. Stan shouldered his bat and shoved his free hand into his pocket. “Um. Sorry for getting on your case earlier. I know you were just looking out for me.”

“Come on, don't be like that!” Ford said, smiling. “Did you see what a great team we made? That was awesome!”

Stan grinned a little. “Yeah...hey, wanna see something?” He brought his hand out of his pocket. Resting on his palm was an old, misshapen, yet unmistakably gold coin.

“Whoa, neat-o!” Ford said, bending for a closer look. “You think it's real gold?”

“You bet! I bet you could do some science-y thing to check the weight, but it definitely looks real. The gnomes said there was a ton of it buried all around the forest, but they couldn't dig it up. That's why they wanted me in the first place.”

“You know, I bet we could find it on our own,” Ford mused. “We could get a metal detector or something and go exploring in the woods. We could even make maps like real explorers so we'd know where we'd already checked.”

Stan looked up hopefully. “You mean it? We'll go hunting together?”

“Sure! I bet we'll find a ton of treasure.”

Stanley's smile widened. He felt like fireworks were going off in his chest. “Alright! High six?”

Ford grinned back. “High six.”

They smacked hands.

Grauntie Mabel was counting the day's profits when they walked in. She took one look at them and laughed.

“Whoa, what happened to you?” she asked. “Didja get hit by a bus or something?” She chuckled at her own wit.

Stan grunted for the both of them and the trudged towards the kitchen. Normally he shared her love of terrible jokes, but at the moment he was too beat-up and tired to care. For once he would probably go to bed almost willingly.

“Uh – hey!”

He and Ford turned back. Their great-aunt was rubbing the back of her neck like she was anxious. “W-wouldn't you know it, I accidentally overstocked some inventory!” she said awkwardly. “So, uh, why don't the two of you take one item from the shop. On the house, you know?”

Stan's eyes widened. “Like, for free?”

“What's the catch?” Ford asked, folding his arms.

She frowned at him. “The catch is do it before I change my mind. Now take something.” She smacked the register with her elbow and started organizing the bills.

Stan sped straight for the priciest items in the shop. A talking fish on a plaque? A stuffed frogadillo riding a unicycle? He could take whatever he wanted for free!

“Neat-o!” Ford said.

Stan looked over. His brother had found a keychain shaped like a flying saucer. Ford clicked a small button on the side and the whole thing lit up light blue, making the perfect paranormal-themed flashlight. He slipped a finger through the keychain's ring and spun it, making a circle of light shimmer in the air.

“This is so cool!” Ford turned to Stan. “What did you get, Stanley?”

Stan looked around. “Um...I think I'll get...”

Something caught his eye. A glint of metal from the Bargain Box, shoved to the back of a store. He leaned closer to check...and a smile spread over his face.

“I will have a...grappling hook!”

He aimed the weapon around the shop, pretending he was a fighter in the Ol' West. “Pew, pew, pew! Take that!”

Ford and Grauntie Mabel glanced at each other in surprise.

“Wouldn't you rather have, like, a T-shirt or something?” Grauntie Mabel asked.

“Are you kidding?” Stanley aimed at the ceiling and pulled the trigger. The hooks shot up, latched onto the roof beam, and yanked him ten feet in the air, where he dangled one-handedly from the ceiling. “GRAPPLING HOOK!” he shouted.

She laughed. “Fair enough!”

Ford sat in his bed later that evening, the blankets pulled over his knees as he wrote in the journal. He'd already filled in the “Weakness” areas of the gnome page: Leaf blowers and baseball bats!

He flipped to the first blank page, halfway through the book.

This journal told me there was no one in Gravity Falls I could trust, he wrote. But when you battle a hundred gnomes side-by-side with someone, you realize they've probably always got your back.

“Hey, Stan, can you get the lights?” he asked.

Stan had been bouncing energetically on his bed, grappling hook in hand.

“I'm on it!” he said. He'd already impaled a stuffed bear with it earlier, and its cotton innards clung to the hooks. He aimed at the lamp and fired.

The hook shot straight through the lamp and smashed the window behind it. The lamp sparked and died.

“It worked!” Stan shouted, and they laughed.

Ford slipped the journal under his pillow and laid back, his arms crossed under his head. He heard a rustling and knew that Stan had taken up an identical pose.

“This summer's gonna be awesome, Stan,” Ford said.

“Duh!” He could hear his brother's smile in his voice. “We're gonna find tons of buried treasure.”

“And monsters.”

“And babes!”

Ford threw a pillow at him. He heard a fwump and muffled laughter.

Ford closed his eyes, still smiling, thinking back to the last thing he wrote in the journal.

Grauntie Mabel told me there's nothing weird going on in Gravity Falls, but who knows what other secrets are waiting to be unlocked?

#gravity falls #relativity falls #smoll stan #smoll ford #grauntie mabel #gnomes #schmebulock #tourist trap #ria #ria ramirez #boyish dan #mystery shack

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sjbuchananbarnes · 5 years ago

Text

The one where she finds out

Steve rogers x reader

W.c: 1814

“Ok we have the steak ,rice,chips,tortillas,salsa and guac.” Nat pointed at each of the items of food. “What else are we missing?”

“Nothing, beer is cooling along with the tequila, will take everything out once everyone is here.” Wanda assured, looking down to see if she got any stains on her high waisted shorts and white tank top.

“Alright where's the girl of the hour?” Sam walked in the kitchen with Bucky not far behind.

“She had a quick phone call ,she’ll should be done any minute now.” Natasha threw her apron and smoothed down her mini cotton white dress and fixed her tan sandals.

“What’s up bitches!” You walked into the kitchen, in a cute mini red floral dress and white sandals.

“Congrats babe!” Nat and Wanda made there way to hug you, which ended up being a big group hug.

“400 missions how does that feel,hot stuff?” Bucky asked his arm still around your waist.

“Amazing.” Smiling up at him. “Now what do we have here?” You looked around the kitchen.

“We have your favorites.” Wanda voice was filled with excitement since Nat and her self cooked dinner.

“Thank you girls.” Hugging them once again.

“Anything for our favorite girl.” Nat pinched your cheeks.

“So when are going to eat?” Sam rubbed his belly.

“Just waiting on Steve.” And right on cue the blonde came walking in with a duffle bag in his hand and a small gift in his hand.

“I got called in for a last minute conference call in DC.” He sighed,sad that he had to leave you. “I’ll be back in a week,I’m sorry sweetheart.” Saddened that he couldn't be here with you tonight.

“It’s okay Steve, will go out to dinner, just me and you when you come back.” You walked up to him and wrapped your arms around him, resting in his arms for a couple of seconds.

“I’d love that.” Steve mumbled into your hair, hugging you tighter, and earning teasing thumbs up and winks from the group,which he only rolled his eyes at. As much as he dread pulling away he finally let you go and shoved two neatly wrapped box into your hand.

“Steve, you shouldn't have.”

“It was nothing.”

“Should I open it now?”

“No!” He yelled but tried to play it off “Maybe later, with everyone else's.”Scratching the back of his neck.

“Mr.Rogers, I’ve been told to inform you that the quinjet it ready.” Fridays voice interrupted you.

“I have to go know.”

“Thank you Steve.” Giving him one last quick hug he walked out.

“It’s always a pleasure, pretty lady.” He walked out.

“Now, let’s feast!” Wanda clapped her hands in excitement and soon you only heard laughs and plates clattering together.

“My god I’m stuffed.” Tony groaned and plopped next to heavily pregnant wife,whose swollen feet rested on the coffee table.

“Me too, everything was delicious, thank you girls.” Laying your head in Bucky’s lap and quickly his hand was giving you a scalp massage. “Buck, stop.” You mumbled,but made no effort to stop him. “ ‘M going to fall asleep,Buck!”

“Ok stop,stop.” Wanda got from her spot next to Vis and made her way to you, with her hands behind her back. “Close your eyes.” Excitement filled her voice, quickly doing as you were told you sat up and closed your eyes. “Tada, open.”

“Wanda you shouldn't have.” You got up to hug her and opened up your gift, it was a photo of the team, in front of the new Stark facility,the one up state, all giving a toothy grin, cuddled up next to one another,happy, you never got to see how the picture came out and this was the first time seeing it.“I love it.” You gasped and held it up to your chest. “Thank you,Wanda.”

“Okay, okay me next.” Nat handed you her gift, it was a small display box that held a scrap of metal along with a bullet and underneath it read. ‘Kabul, Afghanistan,2009.’ “Our first mission.” The two of you were driving a nuclear engineer out of the city , but you were ambushed by the Winter Soldier, both of you shot by him, she worse than you, left for dead.

“ I would've died without you.”

“And now I think I’ll die without you.” You latched onto her.

“Sorry about that,again.” Bucky murmured.

“It’s okay,Buck. We know it wasn’t you.” Resting a hand on his lap for reinsurance. After opening up the rest of the gifts, which were really thought full you were only left with two gifts, Steve’s gifts. Going for the smaller box first, you opened it contained another small black velvet box, after opening it up you let out a gasp.

“He remembered.” You whispered, eyes filling with tears as you traced ever so lightly the bracelet.

“What? What is it?” Natasha was basically jumping out of her seat, everyone around you was just as eager as there redheaded friend.

“One time we went to the mall, you know we were trying vamp up his wardrobe.” Chuckling at the memory of Steve standing in front of your door, asking for fashion advice, which Tony scoffed.

“Why didn’t he ask me.” He crossed his arms over his chest.”You have horrible sense of fashion.”

“Anyways.” You threw a playful glare at Tony. “He asked for my wonderful taste in fashion and we walked by a Tiffany and Co and I saw a bracelet, and it was exactly like the one my mother had, the one she was buried in.” There were tears down your cheeks, memories of your mother flooded your mind, her laugh filled your ears. The horrible sight of your dad holding your fifteen year old hand as she was lowered into the ground.

And before you knew it, you were engulfed into a big group hug as you cried into Sam’s chest.

“I’m sorry.” After a couple more minutes of crying you pulled your self of Sam’s chest, but was still begin surrounded by the group.

“No need, sweety pie.” Pepper gave you her award giving smile.

“Can we see the bracelet?”

“Oh yeah.” You handed them the black velvet box.

Tony let out whistles as examined the bracelet. “ Capsical really out did him self.”

“That must of cost him a fortune.” Wanda couldn't keep her eyes away from the bracelet.

“I can't believe he did this.” Pepper was at ‘aw’ with the gesture.

Bucky quickly let a snort,”C’mon it’s like you guys don’t know him, one time he blew out so much money for a Walther PPK/S, for Peggy because he was so in love with her.” He snorted at his friend.

The whole team stared at Bucky with wide eyes.

“What did you just say?” You questioned him.

Bucky’s eyes widened at shifted uncomfortably on the couch. “ U-uh a W-walther PPK/S, that’s what he got her.”

“No, no, the love part.”

“Uhhh, uhh.”

“Bucky?’

“No, no, no.” He mumbled rubbing his temple.

“Yeah, that’s helping, keep doing that.” Sam patted his thigh.

“So your telling me all you fuckers knew he was in love with me yet decided to tell me nothing?” You paced back and forth through the living room, biting on your thumb.

“It wasn’t something for us to say, sweetheart.” Pepper spoke up.

“Pepper we literally told you that Stark was in love with you, because you were to blind to see.” You threw a questioning look.

“True.” She pointed her finger at you.

“So do you like him?” Bucky aked.

“Of course I do you idiot, It’s so painfully obvious, I thought I was going to have show up naked in his room.” You threw up your hands in frustration.

“What stopped you?” Nat smirked as she leaned back on the couch.

“I kept thinking he didn’t like me, I mean I know he likes me as a friend but I didn’t think it went further than that.” You mumbled and played with your fingers.

“Oh c’mon, your telling you never knew?” Sam questioned.

“Samuel.” You raised your eyebrow at him.

“Okay, okay.” He threw his hands up in defence.

“It’s just that.” Letting a sigh out, “If we were to go on a date, it would be like if we were on our twentieth date. We know everything about each other, if we do go out and then break up it’s going to be so awkward.” You were talking out loud but you were basically talking to yourself .

“But what if you do work out, and live happily ever after.” Tony lifted his brow.

“Yeah, look at us.” Pepper rubbed her belly and laid her head on Tony’s shoulder.

“Fuck it, I’m going to talk to him.” Declaring and standing up.

“He’s already asleep.” Sam informed.

“I’ll just call him tomorrow then.”

“No luck.” Wanda asked as she threw herself on your bed.

“I had one second with him before they called him in again.” You sighed and massaged your temple. “He told me he’s not going to be able to talk to ‘till he gets back.”

“So what are you going to do?”

“I’m going to wait for him when he gets back.”

“He’ll be arriving soon, so I’ll tell you how it goes.” You decided to go with miniable makeup and threw on a pair of jeans and the other gift Steve gave you, a plain white t with a small pocket on the left breast, and it smelled just like him. It was his and he knew how much you loved his clothes felt on your skin and how it smelled so much like him.

One last look on mirror you tied a knot on the shirt so it showed just a bit of your stomach and put on your shoes.

“Good luck.” Wanda and Nat threw you a thumbs up.

“Thanks.”

“You got this girl.” You mumbled to yourself as you paced back and forth in the room before going to the actual departure room and before you knew it Maria came running to you out of breath, resting her self on your shoulder.

“Wow, you okay?”

“He’s -He’s not-Woo.” She clenched her side. “Wow I can’t breath.”

“Maria what is wrong?” You stared at your friend who was freakishly out of breath for begin an agent.

“He’s not alone!” She whispered yelled at you not sure who could hear.

“Who Maria?”

“Steve.” She finally stood up straight, and then you felt your heart drop.

“What?” Devastation filled your voice.

And right on cue Steve walked into the room with a very smiling Sharon Carter wrapped in his arm.

“Hi Y/n, I missed you, how was the party?” He gave you a side hug.

“Great.” You threw him a fake smile, you were late.

The one where Steve finds out

#steve x reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #captain america x reader #captain america imagine #captain america x y/n #steve rogers x y/n #steve x y/n #avengers imagine #imagine #oneshot #steve rogers one shot #captain america one shot #avengers one shot

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brooklynislandgirl · 4 years ago

Note

[Beth and Cop] ❤♡❥ღ💕💘💝💓💌💟💙💚💜💛

This || Not Accepting

❤: who is more affectionate in public? in private? She slides a foot out of her heel and runs the tips of toes along the length of his leg. A feat that he can’t begin to fathom how she manages without ever having moved in her chair. Especially when she grazes his ~ and instantly he reaches down to adjust the napkin in his lap but what he’s actually doing is stopping her from doing that a second time.

He’s squirrelled away and saved to take her to this place, something he knows that she might take for granted but that twists his gut. He never knows which fork to use and the bill at the end of dinner will be twice his electric for the month. And there she is, making eyes at him that by looks alone could set the place on fire. He’s a hundred percent certain that Elizabeth Riley is evil. Later, they take a walk through the park. His arm slips around her waist as if it belongs there. Once they get to the fountain, he takes a perch on the dry edge of it and pulls her close. Sitting as he does almost makes them the same height, makes it easy for him to reach up and run fingers through her hair as he pulls her close for a chaste kiss on the lips. He doesn’t remember the last time he’d been able to do that, or when the return is so much sweeter, more tender than he expects. It’s going to be a nightmare, remembering to hate her at work tomorrow. ♡: who is the bigger romantic openly? secretly?

They don’t do romantic in public. Sure, there’s rumours based strictly on the amount of snark that passes through them when they have to process a crime-scene together. The way he slams her down on the padded mat in the precinct gym. The way they compete on the gun-range. There’s a million little signs the other detectives can point out but none of it is more than circumstantial.

They have to be this way for their careers, and to keep Luka’s secret. The secret that cuddles between them on movie night. The secret that Beth reads to before bed, the one he puts through dance classes and goes to PTA meetings ~sometimes~ and who wants a dog one week, a horse the next, a dragon the one after that.

And once this particular secret is asleep in her bed, that’s when things change. When Luka takes hold of her foot and rubs the tension out of her sole. When she brings him a beer and curls up at his side. Separate in their own heads, but companionably comfortable together. He stocks her plant-based coffee creamer, or the way her hands seem to always know where in his neck the tension sits. Going to Church when he’d rather be anywhere else, and the way she lets him watch football ~REAL Footy, Be’d~ even if she doesn’t really know the rules. And Beth is okay with that. Sometimes, being able to just be comfortable with another person is more important than heated arguments and sex in weird places.

❥: who is more likely to plan something big for valentine's day?

Luka was out the door before he’d double-checked the paper calendar attached to the front of the fridge by toe-shoe magnates. Some parents would call that a violation but what they didn’t know is that he scoured five bakeries in two different Burroughs just to make sure he had twenty seven gluten and sugar free red, pink and white cupcakes for the class party. That he’d actually contacted the school nurse to double-check any possible allergen alerts. That he’d helped Maria make up twenty- six valentines cards ~including one for the teacher~ and made little pink tulle candy-heart and Dove chocolates attached to the envelopes. Didn’t even curse when he burned himself no less than three times with hot glue.

So of course Beth makes the delivery on time for the class party. She also stops at one store on the way over to his place to pick up a bottle of wine for dinner.

She doesn’t expect the lights to be out when she gets there. Or the door to be unlocked. Or for Maria to be spending the night with her uncles.

There’s been a massacre of roses, petals strewn from the front door to the bedroom and the apartment is lit up by candles enough to warrant a violation from those two brothers of his. There’s Chopin cello sonatas on the stereo. Almost everything needed for a romantic evening except maybe the most important part.

She finds Luka in the bedroom, after leaving the wine and her coat on the kitchen counter. Hours later, he gets up, goes to get them some water after teasing her about the importance of keeping hydrated. He comes back with a tray and on it, there’s a single unmolested rose in a bud vase. There’s two glasses of wine, and a plate he’s covered with a plastic mixing bowl because he doesn’t have a proper domed cover. She holds the sheet to her chest and eyes him suspiciously. “Wha’s dat?” “Open i’n see,” he says cryptically. She does and for a split second there’s alarm bells ringing in her ear. Her empty hand rises up to take hold of the crucifix around her neck and she slashes a troubled gaze at him. She doesn’t want to open the box. She isn’t ready for all this to be over. He kneels by the bedside. Takes the box in his hands. She cannot for the life of her recall what exactly it is that he says, can’t hear him over the throbbing pulse pounding in her ears and the vaguely sick feeling twisting her guts into knots. But eventually he opens the box, and inside, glimmering in the soft light is a thing of beauty. High-polished and brand new. She’s pretty sure this isn’t how you’re supposed to give someone the key to your place, but she lets out a sigh she hasn’t realised she’d been holding, and simply nods.

ღ: who is more likely to initiate hand-holding in public?

“...Car 556... 10-33 Zebra. Repeat, 10-33-Zebra.”

“Dispatch 10-4. All available units respond to 10-33 PBMS.”

There’s a moment when the world comes to crashing stillness. When it doesn’t matter that you’re stuck in traffic after a long day in the office. When you know the car number like the back of your hand and the message relayed is that an officer in plain clothes requires emergency assistance. When it doesn’t matter that you work in a completely different Burroughs and that you’re technically not supposed to even have your radio on. You do what you have to, and are grateful your car is kitted out with lights on the grill and you’re allowed to run silent.

And she doesn’t know how grateful she’ll be later. After arriving on scene, the suspect is already under arrest and being sent to central booking. That the officer in question isn’t Luka, but that his car had been loaned out to a different unite. It’s terrible that he’d been shot in the course of his duty, but it’s only a winging. He’ll have a scar but will make a full recovery. She doesn’t even really catch his name. Instead, she’s too glad to be standing behind the barricade with Luka who other than troubled by the whole incident, is perfectly fine. There’s enough people surrounding them, civilian and other cops alike that she doesn’t think anyone really notices when she reaches down and slips her fingers through his. Squeezes the life out of them.

💕: who is more likely to make huge declarations of love in front of other people?

“Can ya b’lieve dis?” “Wha’s d’at, luv?” “Six hundred cable channels, an’ I swear all dat’s on is reruns of Game ‘a T’rones, an’ reality tv. Bachelah, Bachelah in Paradise, Bachlahrette, Marry in Paradise, some kine momona weddin’, blah-blah-blah.”

He arches a brow and she takes a breath. The next fifteen minutes is a tirade about every aspect of human life having to be televised, having turned into human verisimilitude and sell-out voyeurism. She talks about how ultimately disgusting it is. But her life has been vastly different. When she has to represent her family at charity events or when she’s in the city, there’s photographs being taken. People coming up to her and starting conversations as if they’re dear friends even if she hasn’t seen them in years, things of that nature. But it always makes him second-guess plans he’s making and things he wants to say. 💘: who developed a crush on the other first?

“O’Rian and Riley, sitting in a tree.” Maybe it was the moment when she helped him make Maria’s lunch that night while they were working on his case. Or the time she was putting a band-aid on Maria’s skinned knee. Blowing gently across the wound to take the sting out and she looked up at him. All wide green eyes and smiles. Or maybe a half a dozen other times over the last year of what might be argued in court as the start of their friendship. And he absolutely isn’t going to ruin it. No matter what stupid sing-song tone his partner takes with him.

“K-I-S-S-I-N- OW!” “Shu’i’ House.”

💝: who spends more time (possibly overthinking) what presents to get the other?

“....So I can clearly no choose wine in front of me...” She more or less quotes the Princess Bride verbatim to Jay. Tapping on the anniversary hardback, gilt edged, colour plate hand-drawn images version of the book that she’s gotten for Maria. They sit in the coffee shop three blocks down from FAO Schwartz. Jay’s proud that Beth didn’t buy the girl a whole store’s worth of Christmas gifts but the trouble on her face is about the father. Jay smiles behind her cup. There’s more behind the anxiety than the already stated fact that Beth doesn’t want to go over or under board. And as both her friend and her lawyer, Jay knows she’s got to throw the little woman a rope before she spirals into a strange mania. “What do you wanna say to him, through this gift? That you think he’s super hot and you wanna do terrible things to him? That you want to date forever while the rest of us die of old age waiting for a wedding invitation? That you just really love his kid and hope he doesn’t mind you hanging out with her?”

“....”

“It’s a joke, kid.” When her only reply she gets is a frustrated, defeated little whine and Beth’s forehead brushing the tabletop, Jay shakes her head. “Decide how much he means to you and get him something that you know is in the same group of things that he cares about. Like last year I got Baz a brand new tool kit and backboard so he could stop shimmying under whatever car was on the docket for the day and coming home with his back, and leg fucking him over. Ergo. You clearly cannot choose the wine in front of me.”

💓: who initiates most physical contact?

It’s the little things. Toes stuck under his leg or in his lap because they are made from polar ice. The way she reaches up and readjusts his ties, not that they need it. How sometimes the backs of her fingers come to rest against his wrist. The way she gently shoulder-checks him when they’re walking. The way she holds one of Maria’s hands and gets him to take the other, swinging his daughter between them even if she isn’t much taller than the girl.

He doesn’t really think Beth notices these things. He’s sure if she did that she would stop doing them, or at least make a concerted effort. That’s something he’d list as a negative were he ever to make a pros and cons list about her. When she’s not inside her own head or when things are quiet she comes out of her shell and it’s gentle and amazing. But as soon as it’s brought to her attention she shrinks back away from everything, but especially from him. More than once this has made him wonder about her ex and the kind of relationship they had that this would become ingrained behaviour, but he’s never found the right moment to ask about it. Maybe he doesn’t really want to know.

💌: who is more likely to send cutesy texts to the other?

It starts with a good morning. Through-out the rest of the day it’s all just random thoughts and cute pictures. A joke Maria told him. Fun facts from the morgue which aren’t exactly fun but he knows it’s a release valve for her job. Puns. It’s easier to express themselves in a text than it is to say aloud. Some days they graduate to songs shared. Sometimes it’s a quick video call when they’re working opposite sides of the city or they fall asleep talking. There’s less pressure this way, less strain on already busy days. And some days, it is the hardest thing. When you want to reconnect physically but you can’t.

💟: who spends time reading their zodiac compatibility?

“Dis so ridiculous.”

He glances at her, brow raised, from where he’s making scrambled eggs. “Pisces an’ Cancer make beautiful combination. Dese are some of mos’ romantic couples we know. Bot’ waddah sign an’ connect t’rough a feeling vibration, makin’ words unnecessary. Dere is unspoken bond dat keeps dem togeddah t’rough sorrow, pain, ecstasy.” So far, he isn’t hearing the problem. “Sounds good so far.”

“Should be easy-easy t’ move into her magnetic force field. Ya got every kine it take t’ win her wit’ ya sensitivity an’ psychic attunement. Ya probably speak her favourite lines or appear at da door wi’ her favourite accoutrements intuitively. Don’ ovah t’ink it. Pisces is preddy much able t’ read anybody an’ no one would welcome dat more dan ya Cancer lady who will interpret it as intimacy an’ closeness.” She makes a sound in the back of her throat putting down the paper, but nothing he’s heard so far is wrong or out of place. And he knows better than to say anything.

“Cancer is cardinal sign which means ya got natural leadership ability an’ energy f’ launch one project. Should ya decide dat dis Pisces man ovah dere is da one for you, go into strategic mode. Come up wi’ a plan. Shy an’ feminine as ya are, ya need to have details ready f’ go. Some of da more welcome traits you can exhibit is cookin’ ~yeah right, probably set ya place on fiyah~ cleanin’ up messes, straightenin’ out da details of his life, makin’ sure his clothes are press an’ ready f’ wear, and organizin’ his kitchen. He would probably be grateful for ya help in any of his areas, an’ you can do it wi’out being pushy.” She makes a face. “Like look for girlfriend...or ya maddah?”

He doesn’t say anything. For the most part he doesn’t like to argue with her, doesn’t know how it would make a difference. And he’s not going to take the bait about her inability to cook. Instead he pads over, kisses the top of her head, and slides eggs onto her plate.

💙: who is more protective?

“Hey, baby. Let me buy you a drink.” “Name nevah is baby, an’ I’m waitin’ for someone.” The guy with Very White Teeth opens his jacket the same way peacocks fan their tailfeathers. She is unimpressed and sighs. “What’s he got that I don’t?” “O’ badge an’ o’ gun.” The words are growled behind VWT and she smiles. VWT turns and looks up. And up some more, all the way to Luka’s face, which is also smiling but not in the same ways and for the same reasons. The guy scuttles back to whatever table he came from and Luka takes his place at the bar. Beth leans over and places a chaste kiss on his cheek. Whispers in his ear every thing whiskey and heat. “Love it when ya do dat.” ~*~ Somewhere between still drunk tonight and early the next morning a strange sound shocks them both awake. Instinctively she reaches for the gun that is no longer on her nightstand but in the unsafe they agreed to when Maria was here. At the same time Luka slips out of bed, grabs the bat she uses for the NYPD baseball team. They pad silently from her bedroom to the kitchen. They both have adrenaline in their system and are prepared to commit grievous bodily harm on the intruder. Who happens to Maria.

And a carton of spilled milk that Houdini is graciously lapping up so no one has to mop the floor. There’s a bowl of cereal and a spoon on the counter.

She smiles at both of them. When the snack is had and the mess is cleaned up, they go back to bed. He kisses her not quite as chastely and definitely not on the cheek. “O’i love i’ when ye do d’at.”

💚: who tends to get sick more often? who is better at taking care of the other?

He can’t be sick. He doesn’t have time for it. There’s a presentation for science that needs to be finished, he has a sixteen hour volunteer shift he’s got in a couple hours, Maria still needs to get to school, he’s got a meeting with the lawyer, there’s- “Come on, Lu’a,” she murmurs. “Let’s get ya sit up.” She eases him from the pillows into a vaguely sitting position, one hand on his chest and one rubbing small circles against his back. She’s careful not to touch the new, still red scars.

“An’ before ya wan stay argue wi’ me...M’friend Bobby D is gonna cover ya shift. He’s in trouble wi’ his husband again cause of ‘Lantic City an’ can really use da cash. Diorama’s already done. I still t’ink she picked sharks t’ make sure I’d help. I can drop her off before I go in an’ take a early day f’ pick her up. Got ya big glass of juice here. Cold an’ Flu medicine righ’ here wi’ da plastic cup f’ measure wit’.” “Be’d...” “Uhuh. I’m really amazin’ an’ ya no know wha’ ya do wit’out me, I know. I really am dat perfect.” She winks at him. “Gonna wheel in m’ spare tv so ya can catch up on ya Netflix queue or play on da Xbox, but I no wan ya gettin’ out of bed. Doyle say him an’ Anrai comin’ over t’ check on ya an’ bring ya lunch. All I wan’ ya to do is rest. Got me?” “‘F O’i dunna?” “Den is gonna be real hard t’ fit ya in one of my morgue drawer, Detective O’Rian.” He would laugh but for the wracking cough that shakes him stem to stern.

💜: who said "i love you" first? or, if neither has said it yet, who is more likely to say it first?

It sits on his lips a dozen times a day, often a lot more. And every time he thinks he’s going to say it, something comes out of her head that makes him file it away for a better time. Not that he thinks there’s going to be one. So he tries to show her in little ways, in the kind of thing he thinks she’ll find acceptable. Running a hot bath for her. Cooking hot meals for the three of them. Slipping a new book on her night-stand that he thinks she’ll like. Picking up the deep red wines she seems to prefer over everything else. But most of all, he tries to show her he listens. This ... relationship... is vastly different from his marriage. He’s older now, more mature. He’s learned from all the missteps that almost lead to being divorced if not for his wife’s murder. He’s trying to prove himself.

But that’s not the secret to holding this all together. It’s that he’s learned that, like the sharks she loves so much, the secret of Beth is to never hold her still. She has to be free to move and swim as she likes or she will drown. Suffocate under the weight of everything in the world, her family, her job, her grief. He’s hoping that if he is patient for long enough, she’ll finally see him as safe harbour rather than a cage that will stifle her. ~*~ She spends more time on her knees in her pew these days than she ever did when Andy was alive, and they would go to Mass three times a week. She comes here for peace, for the meditative silence, and to seek forgiveness. She prays to her saints. To the Blessed Mother. But mostly she prays to her brother. She wants his forgiveness. She has to change to survive. She never meant to live her life without him and he had to know that. If things had been different, if he’d been the one to live, she’d want him to be as happy and as whole as he could manage.

She’d never intended to move on. Never intended to meet someone, certainly not another cop. She had absolutely no intention of ever falling in love. But then Luka happened to her. And he’d been so infuriating. So arrogant. So...lost. And he has a daughter who needs if not a mother, certainly a woman she can grow to trust, who can give her advice and teach her things that her father maybe can’t.

And while the guilt will forever eat at her, she’s happy. For the first time in a long time. Is it love? She’s not sure but it very might could be.

💛: who believes in soulmates?

Maria sits on the bench with her friend Tamiqa.

“So who’s picking you up?” “Beth.” “She and your dad have been dating for a while.” “Yeah.”

“Is she nice? It is she like your wicked step mother?” “oh, she’s great. She makes him really happy. But...” “But....what? “They are so dumb. They’re so perfect for each other and still they don’t even hold hands.” “That’s so sad!” “Maybe. But I bet my dad’s going to marry her. They’re soulmates you know.” Tamiqa nods at Maria’s sage wisdom.

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iatasbcl · 5 years ago

Text

House of Horrors

Pairing: RK900 x Reader

Warnings: Angst, Gore, violence, torture, one-sided relationship, verbal and physical abuse, AU, whole lotta things going on here

A/N: So, I played Outlast: Whistleblower and have been in a horror-y mood ever since. Nines’ personality was heavily inspired by Eddie Gluskin so He ain’t nice here and is basically a yandere (?) pos, enjoy!

W.C: 2.8k

Fear used to be something you felt when you saw a small spider crawling in your room. Panic was just that awful sensation that you would feel when you met someone new. Dread was the feeling that consumed you before any meetings you had with your superiors.

Oh, how you wished those simpler things were what caused your heart to pound in your ears. No, things just had to turn so sinister. You were an employee, you hardly felt like you were of any worth in the massive corporation that was CyberLife, but hey, it paid the bills.

You wanted to smack your past self for being so naïve, for not seeing what was right in front of her. A megacorporation that created androids needed technicians for a secluded project, how did you not think it was shady?

It didn’t matter. You were stuck here with countless CyberLife employees’ bodies, many torn apart and twisted in the most gut-churning way. You were alone here with no possible way to protect yourself from them.

Them. The defective androids. This center was made as a ‘replacement’ for the android dumpsters in Detroit as an effort to gain the world’s trust back after the failed revolution led by the RK200 model. It was only the pretty front they put up for the world, androids that came here were ‘fixed’.

They would take the deviants and perform those weird experiments on them ranging from playing with their memories to messing up their entire head and making it into something much more horrifying. You shouldn’t have cared, everyone said those were just machines that didn’t feel pain or anything from the crude treatment.

Then why did they scream? Why did they beg? Why did they break?

Why did CyberLife even fund something like this? Was your race truly so horrible? Inflicting horrors upon horrors on beings that seemed to feel just for the sake of it like they were sadistic hunters.

The androids somehow got out and many did not show mercy to their torturers, killing them and ripping them apart like they were nothing. A part of you did not feel pity for them, they too were monsters.

You only started working here two weeks ago and you never stood for the things they did. But you were a nobody, a nobody who probably wouldn’t find another job in this economy.

And that’s how you ended up here, breaths ragged and heart-pounding as you frantically tried to quiet yourself. You slowly took out your camera and turned it to night vision. It was an older model from the 10s that you found in your coworker’s desk, you silently thanked Maria and hoped she was okay. No one was here, you let out a sigh.

“You let me violate you.”

You almost shrieked, fuck, fuck. He was here and he was close. His sickening yet beautiful voice would sing that song as he walked around, searching for a lover. Searching for you.

“You let me desecrate you.”

You lower your camera as you peek through the slots of the tight locker, you could see his red LED flashing in the dark. You held your breath again when stood right in front of you and thanks to the light coming from his temple you could see him baring his teeth at you, like a rabid animal.

“Found you, pet.” With that, the locker was flicked open and you inventorially screamed, trying your hardest to push him away but all that got you was a rough shove towards the floor.

“Now, now,” You picked yourself up and tried to back off, but you felt something hit your head and the world around somehow became darker and thus you drifted away.

“I have so much to show you, my little rabbit.” Was the last thing you heard before completely blacking out.

You awoke in a chair, tied and bound in what looked like a hunter’s chamber, your camera was nowhere to be found. Some bodies were lying around, mutilated beyond recognition. It looked like it was the RK900’s work.

You knew of his model, a model designed to kill and hunt, a model created for destruction. You saw him being brought here when you first arrived, chained like he would lash out the moment he was set free. His blue eyes were breath-taking, and you wondered why CyberLife designed someone so visually pleasing for such purposes.

You looked at his file, model RK900, serial #313 248 317 – 87. Previously used in the D.P.D, the reason for the deviation was unknown. You passed by his cell once, out of sheer curiosity, the RK900 model wasn’t available everywhere and he was the first one to be brought here.

He was quiet, very quiet. He just sat on the white chair and stared down. You didn’t try to talk, you just observed. A state-of-the-art model reduced to nothing but a prisoner. “RK900?” You called; this would probably get you in trouble, but you just had to satisfy your curiosity.

“Are you alright?” You asked, hoping for an answer yet doubting the possibility of getting one. And you didn’t, you had sighed and simply left. That was your only interaction with him before the shit hit the fan, it didn’t explain why he locked you up and then chased you all over the place for the past hours when you managed to escape.

“My little rabbit.” God, you hated that voice. You glared at him as he approached you with a soft smile, it threw you off. “I am glad our little game of hide and seek is over,” he got closer and reached out for your face, “You are finally here, right where I want you.”

This was the first time you got to see properly him since the outbreak and he looked terrifying, to say the least. The right side of his face was stuck in different patches of white, his right eye looked damaged as his sclera was dark, almost black. His white shirt and pants were stained with blood, some of it looked fresher than the other.

“And that is?” you spat.

He laughed for the first time. “Oh, you sweet little thing.” His hand tugged your hair behind your ear and the contact alone sent shivers down your spine. You were afraid of being broken like the others; he was a combat android fully capable of twisting you in any way he pleased.

“You are yet to be perfect.” His words were cold. He retreated, going to a small table at the back of the room.

“Are you going to kill me?”

“Don’t be afraid, I’d never do something that terrible to you.” Something was menacing about what he said, probably the fact that he held a combat knife. Panic filled you now, and you desperately tried to break free, it proved to be useless.

“No, please. You don’t have to do this.” You whimpered but he approached you regardless, holding that thing in his hands like it was his little toy. “I do. You see, humans always have this fire in them,”

The knife neared your face and you shut your eyes tight, awaiting the worst. You screamed when it tore your skin, it wasn’t very deep or wide, but it still hurt like a bitch. “And the only way to extinguish that pathetic spark is to break them.”

The knife moved downward and dug deeper into your cheek. You tried to hold back, to not give this piece of shit the satisfaction of seeing his work’s effect on you. But you couldn’t, it hurt, it hurt so much. You wailed and clenched your hands into a tight fist, your eyes flowed with tears and you looked at him.

He didn’t even have that smug expression anymore, there was only emptiness. Unsettling, creepy emptiness. “Please, please, stop!”

He chuckled; a dark awful laugh barely hearable compared to your screams of pain. “I am afraid I can’t do that. This is your punishment for trying to leave me, you have to be a good girl and accept it.”

Your throat was sore and dry by the time he was done marking you. You didn’t cry anymore, only shook with small sobs as he stared at you. This was it; this was the end of you. You were going to die in this mess by the hands of some deranged lunatic. No, no. You were a fighter and this fucker won’t break this easily.

“Why me?” You wanted to lure him in, to make him believe you cared about him.

You saw him hesitate to answer, he was probably scanning you. He stepped back and went back to his table. “You are special.”

“How so, sir?” it was hard, trying to act like an innocent toy but you kept the act up for your sake. “Not many humans care about damaged merchandises.” He said as he wiped his bloody knife.

“You approached me when nobody else did, I wanted to make you mine ever since I saw you walk away.” Right. “Why are you even here?”

He stopped and you gulped, shit. “You weren’t as quiet as I would’ve liked you to be while taking your punishment, pet. You don’t get to ask any more questions.”

He came back to you and his hand brushed against your wound, causing you to flinch. “I didn’t want to do it, my love, but you left me no choice. Now, how about we start making you a beautiful dress?”

You knew it wasn’t a question, you were his toy for now and he will make you do whatever he pleased for. You nodded and he unrestrained you, you tried to get up, but you didn’t have any power left in you after hours of running and getting cut like a fucking piece of meat.

“You must be tired. Let me carry you.” He said and carried you like you were his bride, it made you feel somehow sicker. The light-headedness you experienced only got worse with every step he took, and you felt darkness consume you again.

“You let me penetrate you, you let me complicate you”

You groan when you hear him sing again, you didn’t want to hear his vile voice. “Ah, you are awake.”

You slowly opened your eyes and saw yourself in a mirror, he stood behind you with a menacing smile. You looked different, the wounded side of you face was stitched up with dried blood surrounding it, that did not look good. But most importantly, you wore a dress, a pretty dotted dress.

“di… did you change my clothes?” You whispered, he put his hand on your shoulder and pressed his lips to the top of your head, you almost gagged. “Of course, I made this for my beautiful wife.” His smile grew wider.

His wife?

“Do you like it, my love?” There was this dangerous edge to his voice, you knew what he wanted you to say. “Yes, sir.” He hummed and nudged you to get up. You did ever so slowly, having to rely on him to push yourself up.

Fuck, your plan to manipulate seemed to be a certain suicide, either that or it was going well. “Where are we going?” You asked sweetly, batting your eyes at him. “It’s a surprise.”

You follow him for five minutes between the rooms and halls of the center, there were so many bodies twisted in the most unimaginable ways, some had necks that were turned a 180°, some we decapitated, some were mutilated beyond recognition. You wanted to throw up.

“We are here.” The awful stench of the rest of the building disappeared when you entered the clear, bright room. It was weirdly… calming.

“This will be our home from now own. We will be together forever, you won’t be ungrateful like that bratty detective, right?”

Your heart quickened for the millionth time tonight, what was he even talking about? It didn’t matter. You knew that leaving this room will be impossible the moment that door is locked, you had to make your move, now.

“Thank you.” He looked relieved and relaxed; his eyes still held the same insanity to them. “I knew you would appreciate my love for you.”

He passed you and went on to tidy the bed, you looked around for anything you could use against and then you noticed it, a knife the door. Bingo. You slowly moved back and leaned down, taking the sharp weapon with ease as the android rambled.

“Other people never appreciated my gestures, he never liked how I protected him from this awful world. He just had to lash out, to try to abandon me for someone else. We could’ve been beautiful, but he practically wanted me to snap his pretty neck.”

You approached as your heart kept pounding and your mouth went dry. Was that why he was here? Did he murder his previous lover? You shook those thoughts off and tapped his shoulder. He paused and looked at you in question, you wrapped your arms around him.

“He sounds like an awful man.” You muttered and he returned your hug. “I knew you would understand me, my love.”

That was your moment to strike, you pulled the knife holding hand and struck it into his thiruim pump without giving him a chance to fight back. The knife easily damaged the thing and you heard RK900 curse before shoving you behind.

You fell and you saw him slowly descend to the ground. “You whore, you ungrateful bitch!” He shouted. You watch him for a moment before you realize this is your chance to bail, so you do. You got up quickly and took the knife with you and put it in your pocket. You panted as you ran towards the exit, you were so close, so close to freedom.

“Come back here!” You didn’t stop but did turn around a bit to see him struggling to follow you but being closer than what you thought, shit. You noticed one of the guard’s body and a gun beside it, you reached for it but were pulled back by a strong chokehold.

“Why did you turn out like him? Didn’t you love me?” You choke and gasp for air as his grip tightened, “I would’ve loved for all of eternity, you whore!” You try to push him as your vision darkened, your feet kicked in every direction in panic but then you remembered.

You took out the knife and you plunged it into his left eye, he stumbled back, and you rushed to the gun. You took hold of it and backed towards the wall. He took the knife out and looked at you, “I’m going to-“

You didn’t let him continue as you shot him between his eyes, another near his thiruim pump, and another and another. You stopped when you were sure he shut down and your heaving breathing finally calmed down. The fucker was dead.

“Hands in the air!”

You flinched as you did exactly what the voice said. You turned and saw SWAT members finally enter the building, “I am human.” You said and one of them scanned you, “Did you see anyone alive?” a bigger man asked you, you shook your head.

You assumed he was the leader, “Get her out of here and search the building. Terminate every android on site.” You were still on the ground when he helped you up and another took you out of there.

When you reached the exit, you noticed your camera laying on the ground, you pushed the man away and reached for it. It still worked and it had everything on it, all the pain and misery you went through for this shitty company and all the horrors it created.

They will pay, and you will make sure the world saw what they were.

#rk900 x reader #dbh #dbh imagine #rk900 #AU

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tessiepessie · 7 years ago

Text

All I ever wanted was the world

Read it now on AO3 !!

Thanks to @wordshakerofgallifrey for be so kind <3 and to @anastasiaheadcanons because after sending that ask I decided to write the story.

First things firts

When Kate left her apartament five minutes later than in a normal day, she had to run to catch the bus. At her fast steps, she didn’t see the old lady carrying a basket with fruits who was opening her store. The basket fell, rolling on the floor, and leaving a mess of apples that stopped the steps of those who were running to their jobs, and Casey’s mom told him that a good man was one who always helped his neighbor if he had the chance. That’s why he had to stop and help old Livia from the store, but he couldn't catch the last sneaky apple which ran into the street and scared a weak young cyclist who stopped so quickly that jumped from the bike and crashed into a taxi whose driver didn't see the red light because of the man with a cellphone in his hand who kept asking him for directions to the nearby library.

“Someone call an ambulance please!”

People gathered around the young man on the ground who was blinking quickly trying to keep himself conscious. The blue of the sky was hidden behind curious eyes that moved and lips that formed words, but he could not decipher what they said to him. He would be late for his classes, maybe he had to take the bus, did he have to take an exam today? So many questions and he was so tired… Maybe he should close his eyes for a minute.

The blurry faces in front of the man in the floor, went slowly into dark and the last thing he heard was someone asking for his name and the sound of an ambulance.

…

“Okay pretty ladies, get ready quickly. We have rehearsal!”

Lily clapped her hands fast, chasing the girls who, with total laziness, took their bags and walked to the camerino. The only one that was ready was Anya, with her white tutu and ribbon in her hair, she got nothing to envy to the Broadway stars. She was on stage warming-up while the cast was getting ready. So professional, Lily wished that the rest of the cast were like her, always on time and the first ready to perform. Most of the people who performed here did it as a hobby, so they didn't really try hard to make it the best show of their lives.

Seemed like that rehearsal would be a long one. She should take her vacation while she still could, Or sell the theater. Or drink a shot of vodka. Whatever works.

“Anya, why are you wearing your costume?” “I want to get used to moving in it… and I look pretty” This girl… “Okay… Everyone take positions! we start in five!”

Working in a community production was not the big dream that Anastasia had when she was five and decide that one day her name would be in some Broadway production, but at least she was doing what she loved. Even if most of the audience was made up of seniors at the matineé.

And of course, this wouldn’t be permanent. Someday she would be in Broadway oh! she could be in Wicked! or maybe in a new and exciting show. She would wait for her moment. Even if it took ten or twenty years.

Just one shitty production at a time.

…

These 24-hour shifts would be the death of him. His thoughts were not coherent by the end of his shift, and he was pretty sure he'd been staring at the wall of the break room for the past ten minutes without blinking. Dmitry wondered how much longer he could live on a diet of coffee and Red Bull before he had a heart attack. It probably wasn't healthy, but he was a nurse, not a nutritionist.

Just a few hours more and he would be sleeping at his comfy bed till the world collapses (lies, just till Vlad came to make him eat something else than sugar).

“Do you have plans for this Friday?” he needed to talk, or he would fall asleep right then and there. “My sister has a presentation with her company. We are all going to see her as a family to support her penniless career.” Maria was melted on the futon, they started the shift together so she probably was as tired as he was. No judging. “At least she does what she loves” “Hey! I love my job too, but I love sleep more”

Being friends with Maria was easy, even when she came from a crazy rich family that paid for her college tuition and he would be in endless debt for most of his life. Still, they had the same age and they started their internship at ER together. After a few weeks, they spent most of their spare time at the cafeteria sharing experience of the moody doctors and funny stories of the patients. Maria was a breath of fresh air in this shitty work and he couldn’t ask for a best partner.

They were friends.

Kind of.

They don’t usually hang out on their days off why would they? they probably see each other more than they see their families. He didn’t know where her apartment was and he knew a few thing about her family, like she had a bunch of siblings, and she wanted an insane numbers of children. But she was the only one who was friendly with him and didn't make fun of him for being a nurse, and sometimes, they go for a drink when the day was especially awful.

“Come on. I'll get you a Snickers. I need sugar”

Dmitry and Maria were halfway to the cafeteria when the stretcher came in through the emergency door. There goes my food.

Running fast, they caught up with the paramedics. Apparently, a taxi didn’t see the red light. The patient was young. They didn’t know his name yet, and even though the impact wasn't that big, he wasn't waking up.

“He's my brother!” Maria said, almost screaming. “He is hemophilic!”

She was pale and she looked like she would faint in any moment. She was frightened, and of course she was. If her brother didn’t get medical attention quickly, he could die.

Her hands were shaking when Dmitry took her away and led her to an empty room.

“Blood type Maria?” “AB, he is AB.. How did this happen to him?” she looked like she would cry in seconds and right then, he didn’t have time to deal with tears. “Call your family. I’ll be with him. You can’t deal with this in your condition. He is going to be okay, trust me.”

But honestly, he was not sure.

…

On Friday they had their first show, but most of the dancers were stumbling and the lead girl forgot her lines constantly. This was a disaster, why was she even trying?

Lily wanted to scream.

Oh, but she knows why she was doing this, but who cares (she cares). Also, they already had the cast, and the scenery was ready. They sent all of the invitations to the important people and she pulled a few strings, so with a bit of luck, the press would be here, she can’t cancel now. This would be a joke but a joke that she would be proud of, yeah… right.

“Okay okay. Everyone, we are going to have a brief recess, and then we are going to try this again.”

Anastasia’s cellphone had five missed calls when she took it. Maria usually didn’t call when she had shift. That’s weird. And she knew that she had rehearsal today. Weird, weird, weird.

“Hey Lil’s….” but her godmother was at phone looking very pale. What’s going on? “Sweetheart, we have to leave. Now. Go for your stuff, no time to change clothes.”

Her phone started ringing again. It was Olga. Weirder.

She didn’t say “hi” which was unusual because Olgas was the politest person alive, maybe Tatiana could fight the crown. She didn’t say hi, but the words that she heard made her blood cold. It was something about and an accident and Alexei, and honestly, she didn’t care for the rest.

She was running out of the theater before the call ended.

…

Maria’s coffee was cold and her tears were dry now. The surgery started an hour ago and Dmitry didn’t say anything yet. She knew that this took time, but still. IIt was her baby brother in the OR, she couldn't just relax.

The only thing that stopped her to run into the surgery was Olga holding her hand. She had a rosary in her closed fist over her heart. She was praying, just like her mother used to do it. Maria stopped believing in god long time ago, but she found the prayers relaxing. It makes her feel safe and maybe, He was listening.

Lily and Anastasia came together. Her sister was still in her costume and hurried to hug her while Lily stood awkwardly, looking at the people in the waiting room. At least Anya wasn’t crying. She always was stronger than her.

“What happened Mashka?”

What happened? What happened was a stupid driver didn't see the red light, even though red was a pretty obvious color that everyone knew meant stop. What happened was, for ABC reasons, Alexei got scared for an apple... yes, an apple, and he jumped from his bike because obviously that was his only option and he ended up cashing with the taxi. That's what happened. And now he was in surgery.

Half an hour ago, Dmitry ran by with two bags of blood into the OR. He didn’t say a word to her.

Anya didn’t sit with Maria, Olga and Lily. She just walked in the alley. Sometimes on her tiptoes, sometimes not. She’s still wearing her ballet shoes. If she just sat there, everything would be more real and and this can’t be real. She hated hospitals since Alexei born. Most of his childhood was between white walls and the smelt of antiseptic, this can’t be happening again.

But the last time that they came to an hospital was when she had seventeen and that ended with everyone wearing black. Hospitals were only bad news. She didn’t know how Maria could work here.

She didn’t know how they can stay here and just sit until someone br them news.

Lily could use a drink now. Damned hospital with their damned sober policy, and she couldn’t leave either. What kind of ruthless woman would leave these poor children alone? They may not be family by blood, but she had watched them grow. No, Lily could be an alcoholic-ish and moody woman, but she wasn’t ruthless.

She had never been good at dealing with people who were suffering, what could she do? Pat them on their backs? Maybe she could offer to go for coffee or something to eat if the surgery took longer, but for now it was enough to sit next to them and wait.

Still, the damned surgery looks like would never end.

Till it ended.

Maria was the first to get in her feet and rushed to Dmitry, who looked tired but at least he was smiling and yes, he may be an asshole sometimes, but he wouldn’t dare to be an asshole in this situation.

Anastasia hold Maria’s hand tightly and Olga put a hand on her shoulder. They waited for her to make a move, but it wasn’t necessary because exhausted Dmitry was getting anxious and couldn’t wait for her to speak

“I told you he would be fine.” Maria and her sisters felt how suddenly they could breathe again. “Yes, he could have needed blood, but wasn’t too much, it was more for precaution. He had an hemorrhage but the doctors worked quickly so it wasn’t much the damage. I guess, the doctor would be more clear. Now, if you excuse me, I need to move him to his room...” Suddenly, Dmitry looked perplexed to Anastasia for the first time, and then to Maria. “Why does she look like a doll?”

Anya at her side made a little snort while she stand straight crossing her arms over her chest. She looked proud and taller than she really is… Is she up on her toes?

“Because I was in rehearsals, and why do you care?”

Dmitry smiled and Anya mimicked his smile while Maria thought Jesus Christ.

“Come on,” Maria hurried him, taking his arm. “I will help you with Alexei,” she said rolling her eyes. ...

Alexei opened her eyes in a bright white room and felt a bit dizzy. His head hurted a lot and that was the only part of his body that he could actually feel. Everything else was numb and he was thirsty.

He felt like a car crushed him… Wait.

Oh, the apple. Yes. He remembered now. This would be a funny story in the future, but he is pretty sure that he is in trouble now.

His family is going to kill him. Maybe he should back to sleep.

“Look who is awake.”

Or maybe not.

There’s a young man beside his bed. He is smiling even when when he looked like he didn’t slept in days. Maybe he should sleep.

“Who are you?” The guy helped him into a sitting position and wow, now everything hurts and then, approached him a glass of water. Nice guy, Alexei already liked him.

“I’m Dmitry, your nurse” “Nurse? where’s the pretty blond? there’s always a pretty blond nurse in the movies.” “First of all, the only pretty blond that I know is your sister, gross. Second, we are in 2018, men can be nurses, so... let it go.”

Shit, he is in Maria’s hospital. Whatever was the reason she wasn’t here, he knows that at any moment his family will come in the door. For a 21-year-old man, Alexei was a bit scared of his sisters.

“Maria is out there?” “Yes, with an old lady who looked pissed and your sisters.” “Do they look mad?” “Nah, your sisters are just worried. They are talking with the doctor, so they should be here in no time.”

The first came in was Anastasia. She slap his forehead knowing that Olga would scold her (and she did it). Then Olga kissed his face like she did it when he was a child and Lily squeezed his cheeks. Yes, they were just worried, but that didn't stop them from asking questions or Anya from mocking him because seriously Alexei, you gave us the scare of our life just for an apple? such an idiot.

In a corner, Maria was talking with Dmitry. She couldn’t be more grateful to him, seriously. He acted with total professionalism and took good care of her brother when she was a crying mess. Another person probably would scream at her and she would hardly be able to pull herself together, but he was patient and let her be with her family. He was such a good friend. He even offered to stay a few more hours taking care of Alexei while she went to her house to shower and sleep for a couple of hours until she returned to the next day's shift.

She would think of something to return the favor.

“Why you didn’t tell me that your little sister was a prettier version of you?”

Hell no. Not on her watch.

“Because it’s information that shouldn't interest you.”

“Why?!” Dmitry sounded offended.

“Trust me, you are not her type. Actually, she has a really shitty taste in men and you are… you.”

“But I’m a good guy, I could be an improvement in her love choices.”

Seriously… what a day.

“Give me a break. I’m going to finish a few things before I left. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

It wasn’t a no, but a maybe. Still, he probably didn’t have a chance with her sister.

#dimya #dimya fics #ship: dimya #ff: All I ever wanted was the world #modern au #modern settings #ao3 #anastasia the musical #anastasia x dmitry #dmitry x anya

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anima-contritum · 7 years ago

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The Rush of Blood - part 1

A/N: heyo! so this is my first sort of major writing post on here and I didn’t completely edit all of it, so I’m hoping for the best I guess (I probs could’ve written more). I also wrote this for a friend of mine so make sure to check her out because she’s absolutely fantastic @scrabblesense (: enjoy!

Word Count: 1,925

Notes: This is a poly!hamilsquad x reader fanfic featuring the good ol’ gang au. disclaimer: the au doesn’t completely belong to me however all the ideas are truthfully mine. This is most likely going to be a series so buckle up and enjoy the ride.

T/W: mentions of past kidnap and torture, past abuse, violence, angst, and mentions on death. (if i missed necessary to note, let me know and I’ll add it)

Parts: 1 2

The atmosphere was riddled with a tension so thick you could choke on it. It seemed to blanket everything in the dark room with a sense of red hot outrage accompanied by undertones of blazing determination. Expressions were cold and devoid of emotions, the white-knuckled fists at each gang member’s side being the only telltale sign of disagreement. The silence that fell immediately after Angelica proposed her plan almost had a physical weight to it as it made your head pound and shoulders tense with each passing second. You would give anything to leave the suffocating room in that moment as anxiety bloomed in your chest.

Everyone told you before that your analytical skills were what made you the best at what you do, but right now you wished you could turn your brain off as the previous words bounced around in your skull. Thorough observations seemed to be all you were good for; You could remember license plates with just a glance, write out the police’s rotation schedules and usual stake-out spots, plan an escape route in a minute flat, determine someone’s motives and possible outcomes, even read a person’s expression and body language. Looking around at everyone in the small group, it was easy to pick out those opposed to the plan and who were supportive. As you took in each detail, your mind split things up piece by piece.

The way Alexander held his head high with his swirling brown eyes aflame with restrained wrath was like a bright neon sign that flashed in all caps ‘I THINK THE FUCK NOT.’ It was a threatening look to say the least.

Next to you John had a certain defiant set to his jaw that set as a pair for his defensive stance, his feet shuffling ever so slightly to be in front of both Alex and you. Knowing John, he’d either be the one throwing punches or holding back his boyfriends - and quite possibly his girlfriend - from doing something stupid.

Looking at Lafayette adjacent to Alexander, the french man looked more worried and panicky than anything else with his fingers fidgeting at his sides and his lips pursed in a tight line. His furrowed eyebrows created creases in his forehead and if you didn’t know him like you do, you would expect the man to start pacing across the battered wooden floor.

Hercules was a different story. Placed on the other side of you, his arms were crossed over his chest making his biceps more defined while his gaze was set at a deadly glare that sent shivers down your spine. In this moment, that wasn’t the Herc who knits you winter scarfs and wraps you in hugs this was Hercules Mulligan, the man who could easily snap a guy’s neck with little effort.

On the other side of the room with Angelica and her sisters, Maria stood lazily to the side. She was always the more reserved girl as she remained selectively mute but you still noted the sure set to her casual stance. Despite her hair falling over the eye patch on the left side of her face you could still see the agreement in her eye.

Eliza and Peggy stood at either side of Angelica with confident tilts of their lips and spark in their eyes. Of course, with all of your boyfriend’s burning eyes on the three sisters plus Maria you didn’t blame the wary shift in their eyes.

To the untrained eye, Angelica adorned a neutral expression but you saw the smugness on her lips and quirk to her perfectly shaped brows, the amusement dancing behind her dark eyes. She knew the plan would go through no matter what the other’s said. Excluding the risky premise, it was well thought out and ultimately beneficial to the group.

You - wedged between Hercules and John - stood stock still while your insides went crazy. Underlying anxiety twisted into your stomach like barbed wire while your conscious looked for a way out, an escape route. But the more your eyes scanned around every corner of the room, the faces of your boyfriends and the other girls, it was never clearer that this was something you couldn’t opt out of. No matter what your boyfriends said in protest to the plan, you knew it wouldn’t be reasonable to jettison the proposal.

“No,” Alexander was the first to speak, smashing the tense quiet like glass. His voice was laced with anger, his fists shaking at his sides as he went to step forward. If John hadn’t put out his arm to stop the utterly furious man, you bet Alex would’ve attempted to get in Angelica’s face - even if he’s several inches shorter than her. “If you think for one fucking second I’d let (Y/N) go out and risk her life for something as stupid as robbing a gas station, you are very mistaken.”

Angelica merely snorted a laugh with a small shake of her head, knocking a few curls loose from her tight bun. “Hamilton, you know as well as the rest of us just how necessary this operation is. If it hasn’t occurred to you yet, we’re in debt,” her amused tone turned cold and vile in a matter of seconds as her gaze flicked over Alex distastefully. “And if memory serves me right, it’s your fucking fault.”

You watched Alexander’s anger bubble up inside him as his lips pulled back in a vicious snarl. “What else was I supposed to fucking do when I was tortured and then held at gunpoint until I gave up the money?” A pang of heartbreak reverberated in your chest at the remembrance of what happened two months ago. You knew it still gave Alex nightmares, how he cried out in his sleep or the way he overworked himself. The damn fucking Redcoats kidnapped your boy and left him broken and scarred in a ditch to die after robbing your group of every last cent they owned. Now you’d be lucky to get a meal a day or a good sleep. Your boyfriends can only do so much to warm you during the frigid Autumn nights.

“Look, all I’m suggesting is (Y/N) monitor the place for a bit and when the gas station is about to close she goes in armed. She’ll be wearing a ski mask, a black hoodie, the whole damn ten yards. She’ll be able to anticipate worst case scenario and get out fast. She doesn’t have to kill anyone but Hercules and John will be around the back of the building as reinforcements if things go topside and you and Lafayette will be in the getaway car. Easy in, easy out.” Angelica restated the plan from earlier.

Hearing it again made bile rise in your throat, your heart racing and beating in your ribcage like a sledge-hammer. Your mouth felt dry and your hands shook as it seems the weight of the world sat heavily on your shoulders. Any words you planned to say died before they were even formed.

“And where will you be in all this?” John spat out. His face was red with fury making his freckles stand out. Looking over at him, he still had his arm stretched out across Alexander’s chest to restrain him.

As if waiting for the question to be asked, Peggy smiled smugly and gestured between her sisters and Maria. “We will be hijacking both the traffic and gas station security cameras.”

“Someone needs to hold down the fort in addition to being the main communication center. Peggy managed to boost the signal on our walkie-talkies. We have a good 5 miles or so until the connection gets fuzzy.” Eliza added with a fond smile for her little sister.

Despite the nerve racking situation, you couldn’t help but be impressed. Peggy had always been good with anything that could be considered electronic. If only she could fix the water heater…

Next to you, Hercules uncrossed his arms and turned his glare to Angelica. “I’m not letting her go in alone. If we’re doing this, I’m going in with her.” The low edge to his words made everyone able to hear it cast their eyes down excluding Angelica. Everyone knew, even outside your gang, just how dangerous Herc can be. Although only your group knew how his hard exterior was a mask to how kind his heart truly was, that tone in his voice always made them shy away. Growing up in an abusive household, Hercules learned it was better to put on a threatening act than to put up with other people’s shit. Even now after all these years, he only shows his soft side with you and his boys.

Hercules’ statement seemed to shock Lafayette out of his worrying as he stepped forward with confident radiating off of his stance. “I agree with mon cher. If we are to go through with this, I will be accompanying mon amour.”

“If I agree to that then I’m risking three members of this group being caught and arrested. I devised this plan so if things go wrong, only one of us gets locked up. Having you and Hercules go in with (Y/N) is completely unnecessary and naive when she can do the job better than any of us.” Angelica retorted.

You hated the way everyone talked about you like you weren’t there. It made the barbed wire in your guts wrap around your heart and cut deep.

In an instant, both Alexander and John lunged. If Hercules and Laf weren’t able to grab the two boys, they wouldn’t have hesitated to start a full blown fight. It wouldn’t be the first time Alexander fought Angelica. It made you jump in fear, your eyes widening as John struggled in Herc’s grip. Laurens was all but spitting poisoned words at Angelica with a daunting growl in his tone. “(Y/N) is not fucking dispensable you fucking bitch! What the fuck happens if the cops show up and she can’t get out in time? I’ll tell you what fucking happens. They either shoot and kill her because she has a fucking gun or they arrest her for life for multiple shitty charges. What happens if the cashier has a gun? What happens if a customer decides to play hero and attack the robber? What happens-”

“ENOUGH!”

Your voice came up above John’s and any other possible argument Angelica had on her mind as silence encased the room. Tears had started streaking down your cheeks no matter how hard you tried to stop it. They leave wet tracks as they go unwiped making your cheeks shine in the dim light of the room. All eyes turned to you, Lafayette letting go of Alexander as the once raging bull turned sombre seeing your tears. Everything threatened to put you in a choke hold and drown your words like before, but this time you had to push through this. You had to push through the nauseating nervousness in your stomach and the way it felt like your heart jumped into your throat.

You just had to push through it like you always have.

Turning to give Angelica your full attention, your voice came out shaky but certain. “I’ll do it… I don’t need Herc or Laf with me, I just need the supplies you listed before. It’ll be a quick in and out, no cops, no killing. If things go wrong, I-...” A watery laugh broke through your lips before you could stop it. “Then I’ll go down swingin’.”

#poly!hamilsquad x reader #hamilton #fanifc #fanfiction #john laurens #hercules mulligan #alexander hamilton #lafayette #the schuyler sisters #maria reynolds #idk what im doing #angst #ehhh #gang au

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spectralghost13 · 5 years ago

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Pearlescent and Gold

( this is a shorter story I wrote for a writing course, it is gorey and dark, trigger warning for drugs and mutilation. If you want to read feel free to continue! I’d love to hear feedback! 💚)

The night sky loomed overhead pitch black and shining like diamonds, hidden by the trees and buildings with the lamp posts' light accentuating the leaves. Cobblestone paths lining the road coated in a thin layer of glitter following the party that occurred earlier that day. The party in the streets was to celebrate the final capture, arrest, and conviction of the notorious “pearly” serial killer, the man who killed 13 local women over the course of a year. Now that he had been done away with all felt safe once again in their small town of Windrip.

With the newfound security filling the town parties are more abundant than ever as ladies feel safe going out again at night. It is at one of these parties I found myself today.

I was dressed in a pearlescent suit, pearl jewelry set, and black button up. The theme was precious materials to honour the victims of The Pearly Killer, I chose pearl, but many were wearing silver or reds to represent garnets or rubies, one thing we all had in common were thematic masks worn on our faces. Everyone looked beautiful, but one girl stood out on the dance floor. Golden and bright she danced, light on her feet and nimble she moved from side to side, changing dancing partners every few minutes. The dance floor was a blur of colours but the only one I truly cared about was her. Regardless of how breathtaking she was and how desperately I wanted to dance with her I stayed to the side, silently watching and sipping my champagne.

“ Soooo, ya come here often?” a sultry voice asked in a playful tone.

I jumped, not expecting anyone to have noticed, let alone talk to me. I turned to see a man, also in white, holding a glass, ebony hair slicked back, and a smile donning his face, icey eyes staring into mine.

“ No, I don't actually,” I sipped the champagne, bubbles filling my mouth before burning their way down my throat. “ I much prefer the library, it's far quieter.” A smirk playing on my lips as I glanced between him and the dance floor, although I lost the girl in gold. Damnit.

“ Ohh the Library ya say? Ya consider ya’self a bit of an intellectual do ya?” a mischievous tone in his voice, it made my gut churn and my palms sweat.

“ Yes. The library. Where the books are. And people leave you alone when you are alone. And no, I don't consider myself an ‘intellectual’, I consider myself a college student. Now if you'll excuse me-” I moved to push past him but he turned in to me, blocking me further.

“ Oh come on, ya aren’t goin’ to leave me hangin’ are ya?” his lax body language angered me more so than anything, couldn’t he see I was done with the conversation?!

“Yes. I am. Now if you'll excuse me!” shoving him out of the way I tried to ignore his remarks as I made my way to the dance floor. I couldn’t wait anymore to try to find that gorgeous girl in gold.

The people on the dancefloor were absolutely buzzing, their voices drowning out the music, their bodies holding the beat regardless. A whir of colour moving around me as I searched the crowd. It was so hot, the movement around me causing sweat to form on my brow and leading me to loosen my shirt collar. Nowhere on the dancefloor could I find her. Many a person pulled me to dance, regardless I’d pull away and continue my search.

Once I went outside… I found her. Shimmering in the moonlight, leaning against the brick, she was there, chest rising and falling in rhythm, eyes closed. She was even prettier up close… so close…

I watched as my hand reached out to touch her, getting ever closer to her shoulder. I could feel her heat, so close to my fingertips. So nearly there. When she looked over, I jumped as her eyes shot open and she gasped. The shock on her face eased into a deep sigh, clutching her chest she took several deep breaths.

“ Holy shit you scared me!” she laughed quietly, leaning back again to the wall and sliding down slightly. “ Did you need anything?” The smile on her face spoke more words about who she was than anything she did at the party. It was tender, kind, and loving. I could feel my cheeks set alight and my walls melt under the gaze of her tawny eyes, golden hues surrounding them accenting their depths.

“ Yeah… yeah. You look amazing tonight… my name is Lyna Mckay,” I extended my hand to her, hoping for the best.

“ Maria May,” she took my hand and gave it a shake, her hands were so soft… “ And thank you, I tried,” she moved a strand of hair behind her ear, smiling at me with near perfect teeth shining white. She was so beautiful.

“ Would you like to, maybe ditch this party and come hang out? You don't have to, but I'm done with this party, and it seems like you are too, so…” I met her eyes and smiled, gently holding on to her hand.

She seemed… apprehensive, biting her lip and looking down before lifting her head and nodding. She gripped my hand and off we went, a local coffee shop was still open so... that's where we went.

The coffee shop had that small-town cottagecore aesthetic to it. Cobbled brick exterior, floral tablecloths, pastel neutral colours dotted everywhere, and that calming smell of oatmeal and cinnamon buns in the air. It was quiet, just the soft piano music from the radio on the counter balanced it out, it was a far cry from the frenzy of dancing and socializing people at the party. The owner of the shop, an elderly lady with kind wrinkles surrounding her mouth and years of laughter in the corners of her eyes came to greet us and take our orders. Maria got hazelnut light roast on ice, two cream, three sugar. I went for a classic black coffee.

“ You should try the cinnamon buns here, they’re to die for,” I grinned at her, taking my coffee from the owner’s wrinkled hands “Trust me on that.”

“ Maybe I will,” she laughed, it was as melodic as her voice, a tinkling in the soft piano melody. Her nose crinkled when she laughed, it was cute.

That’s where we stayed for roughly an hour. In the meantime I slipped something into her drink, she didn’t notice of course. Too busy laughing and telling me about herself, too flavourful of a drink to taste the subtle change. I watched her eyes droop as she got drowsier, the drug taking affect. Her speech slurred and she held her stomach and winced.

“ I… don’t feel so good. I should-” she paused and I could see her hold back a gag “ I should go home,” she moved to start getting up and I zipped out of my chair to her side.

“ Here, let me help you. I'll get you home. Where do you live?” I extended a hand to her, and she took it. I helped her up and lead her out of the restaurant, leaving a twenty on the table before we left.

“2432, Queens lane, apartment 3,” I watched her face contort as she quietly retched, losing her footing slightly in her heels. I grasped her arm gently to support her as we made our way through the streets. The cobblestones shifted to sidewalks and roads, dew coating the grass and glinting in the light of the street lamps. Her apartment complex was just your basic one, brick exterior with outdated carpet flooring that was probably too tedious to properly maintain anyways. She lead the way to her apartment, down the stairs and to the right.

She fumbled with the keys for a moment, holding back throwing up before unlocking the door and bolting to the bathroom, bumping into a cupboard or dresser in the dark. I quietly turned on the lights and stepped in, shutting the door behind me and removing my shoes. I could hear her throw up into the toilet, the sound of a full stomach emptying itself with a sickening splash, followed by hoarse coughing and more vomit into the bowl. I looked around the room while she was preoccupied. Just a bachelor suite. A double bed pressed into the corner of the room with a white duvet spread over it, not to mention the ridiculous amount of pillows on it. A small table was across the room from that, a small kitchenette beside that, and a tv placed near the edge of the bed, essentially boxing it in.

She emerged from the bathroom moments later, paler, with golden lipstick smudged across her face, small trails of mascara from her eyes. She’d removed her heels and looked mildly defeated shoulders slumped and a pitiful expression on her face. She sat on the bed and laughed sadly.

“ I promise I'm not usually like this,” she shot me an anxious smile. Even looking this sickly she was a beacon of beauty.

Sitting beside her on the bed and removing my suit jacket I wrapped an arm around her delicate frame, she was shaking and her skin felt warm to the touch.

“ I believe you, maybe the alcohol isn’t sitting right?” I moved to kiss her forehead, the ‘question’ holding in the air with weight.

“ Yeah.. Maybe,” her voice wavered and I watched her eyes flutter slightly as she slumped against me. She’s just… so perfect. So perfect… I couldn't pass up an opportunity like this.

I did another look over of her room, she was slumped against my chest gently, breathing softly. Not quite asleep but not quite awake either. I caress her cheek gently as I find just what I was looking for, peeking out from under the bed. A bat.

She mumbled something under her breath just as my fingers wrapped around the base of the handle. Cold metal greeted my fingertips as I pulled it up towards my side, keeping it out of her view. Didn’t want to work her into a tizzy now did we? Her hands gripped onto my shirt tightly, her breath falling out of the pattern it had before. Bat in hand I looked at her again. She was so gorgeous.

I stood up from my spot on the bed much to her complaints. Turning the bat I prepared to swing, best to strike before she can move or scream to get away. The bat collided with her skull, just behind the temple, with a ringing metallic noise. The feeling of crunching bones beneath the metal as her skull caved in and skin broke. A frightened gasp escaped her lips before she fell limp, blood starting to ooze down her neck and mingle with her hair. Now that she was incapacited I could have a bit of fun.

Walking to her kitchen, rummaging through the drawers until I found just what I was looking for, the carving knife. After pulling it from the drawer I approached her at the bed, setting my tool near her. She was so pretty… I couldn’t wait to see her all bloody and gored up. I searched through my purse for the pliers kept in there, past the lip gloss and tide pens until it was in my hand once again. Taking its place beside the carver I looked at her one last time before I made her a masterpiece.

Her chest was still rising and falling with her breaths, but that made it all the more fun. Grabbing the pliers I gave them a firm squeeze before prying her jaw open and taking a look around at her pearly whites. The pliers in my grasp I went for the first tooth. Grabbing it firmly with them I tugged it back roughly, squeezing the gum just above the visable part of the tooth. One sickening crack later and it was in my hand, gum still clinging stubbornly. With a grin I went right back in for the next tooth, a crack and another pearl pulled from the clam that was her mouth. 32 of the precious bones in my hands shining under the overhead lights. Blood filling her mouth and congealing. I grabbed the knife, checking its serrated edge to make sure it was sharp before lifting her tongue. She let out a soft gurgley groan as I started to saw at the muscle inhabiting her mouth. It oozed blood at the first draw through and the blades tore up the flesh underneath them. Once I cut the final bits out I pulled it out with my hand, blood oozing from the roughly cut edge of the muscle, torn bits of flesh hanging from it. In her hands I lay the tongue I cut from her, cradled alongside the teeth I ripped from her mouth shining like pearls.

I left her where she was, against her bed, bloody and starting to congeal. Heading to Maria’s dresser and sorting through her clothes I grab a dark skirt and go to change into it. Replacing my white pants with a black skirt as to not stain it anymore than the few splatters of blood dotting the lap. Heading back to her one last time.

Mahogany and gold stain everything about her. Her hair, golden blonde and shining in the dim light, mingling gold and deep reds in a tragic halo around her gorgeous face. Golden eyeshadow falling around her eyes, golden lipstick smudged but still shimmering, leaking blood in gelatinous clumps. Her golden dress draped around her frame, blood crusting on it. Everything about her was touched by Midas, beautifully tragic, coated in gold and gleaming like tears in his eyes at the realization of what he had done to his daughter.

I looked down at her, she was so foolish. It was all so poetic wasn’t it? Even in death her beauty surpasses her.

I reached down to touch her face, caressing her cheek gently. Her skin was so soft… I leaned down closer to her face and slide my fingers into her eye socket. Gripping her eyeball and pulling it out. She makes the softest of sounds, just barely holding on from the blood filling her throat, now a dark ooze that once was hers. I pull her eye out as far as I can, her optic nerve stretching and straining. I took the knife to it, slicing and tugging to tear the nerve before slicing again and repeating the process. Her other eye getting the same treatment, the blood from them dripping onto the floor and all over her body. I hold one in each hand, holding the one in my right above Maria as I dug my finger through the sclera, popping and squeezing it out before dropping it on her. Even now I can't ignore the warm fuzzy feeling it caused in my chest.

Taking the knife to her throat I dragged it along her skin causing blood to gently bead to the surface, a necklace of ruby pearls dripping down and mingling with its already congealed counter parts. She’s just so, so beautiful. Pressing harder this time into her soft flesh, blood gushing as I hit her jugular vein. She looked so ravishing drenched in her own blood.

Wobbling to my feet the giddiness struck me like an arrow to the chest. Soft fits of giggles exiting my mouth as I made my way to the sink, washing the blade and my hands before splashing frigid water on my face. The cool droplets calming me down before I went to change one last time before making my way out.

Before leaving I made my way over to her for the last time. Picking three of her teeth out of her blood coated hands and inspecting their smooth white appearance a grin spread on my face. Looks like it’s time to add a few more pearls to my jewelry set.

I’d better get started soon though, we’re going over some of my “pearly” killings in forensics class tomorrow and well… I surely don’t want to be late to that.

#writing #original fiction #gore #horror #mutilation #dark theme #tw: drugs #tw: mutilation #tw: murder #dark fiction

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amythecinnabunny · 5 years ago

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Apartment 42 -- A BuckyNat AU

Master and rival assassins unknowingly live together for almost a year, making sure their real jobs remain a secret from each other and everyone around them.

Chapter 11

"I never told you because I was afraid of this. I knew you were the Widow a week before Christmas at least. I thought about telling you every day, but I was sure youd react horribly and I'd lose you."

Natalia hugged herself and looked up at James. "You mentioned nightmares . . . what were they about?"

"You," James said, "you dying. Various ways. All very terrible, very traumatising. Josef, the one that attacked us on Christmas eve, he features in a lot of them."

"How do I die? In your nightmares."

James shrugged. "Oh, you know . . . impaled, beheaded, shot in the head, shot in the heart, stabbed in the heart, ambush, rain of bullets from Hydra agents, starved, tortured, the works."

Natalia's eyebrows rose. "Any of them have your hand in it?"

"One," James admitted. He frowned at the carpet of Natalia's current bedroom. "Hydra can do this . . . thing. I'm not sure what it is. It's new. I don't remember what happens in between. I hear some agents talking. Says it turns me into a machine, obeying every order. They call it effective. Really bad nights are the ones where they use it and I come back to your dead body. I never know what happened, but I know I did it. It -- it -- sometimes it's really bad. Sometimes it's a clean shot. Sometimes you're covered in bruises. I -- I don't want to talk about it."

Natalia walked up to James and took his hands in hers. "Don't. Just . . . do you love me? Do you really love me?"

James tightened his hands around hers. "More than anything or anyone I've ever known."

"How much?"

James offered her a small smile. "Completely, doll."

Natalia watched him carefully. "I want to believe you but I know myself, and I know that I would lie to me. I don't know."

"I don't expect you to, doll, I just need to let you know that I stopped chasing the Widow the day I met you outside our apartment. I only realised it that night. I just need you to know that you're what I'm going to miss. One way or another, this is going to end. Either I succeed, or you succeed. But either way, we won't get to stay here. When Hydra takes me back, you're what I'm going to miss. You, with your bright smile, your twinkling eyes, your infectious laugh. You and your annoying habit of being unable to remember where anything goes, that horrified face you make when you taste your own cooking, the fact that your bras somehow manage to hang from the top of the fridge and finding heels in the freezer, that stupid face you make everytime I suggest cleaning the apartment, when you curse under your breath in Russian and you think I can't hear, the fact that you hate the toothpaste I buy, when you want attention and you'll do anything to get it, those little ballet moves you subconsciously do when you actually get cleaning --"

Natalia shut him up quickly by lifting up on tiptoes and briefly brushing her lips over his. She leaned against him, using his arms for support as she stayed balancing on her toes. "Love me," she whispered.

"How much?" James asked without hesitation.

"Completely," she said, silently daring him to deny her.

///////////////

"I see the two of you have ironed things out," Ana commented when James joined them at breakfast in the courtyard.

"At least you didn't have to hear them ironing until three in the morning," Maria grumbled, snapping her toast in half.

James hid his face behind a mug while Natalia pretended like she hadn't just choked on her coffee.

"I only got back with Howard at one," Natalia said, turning her nose up, "your husband is to blame for how late it was."

"Oh?" Maria said, raising an eyebrow. "Am I to assume that the two of you wouldn't have been slamming the ironing board against the wall if Howard had come home earlier?"

"We would've done it in our own apartment," James muttered.

Anthony cleared his throat. "Can we please not discuss your sex life in front of my oats?"

"Sorry, darling," Natalia said, "but this is all on your mother."

"Tallie!"

"What? You started with me!"

James laughed softly and pulled her closer, chair and all, to kiss her cheek. "You're so childish, doll."

Anthony rolled his eyes. "You watch too many old movies, Uncle Jamie. Who even calls other people 'doll' anymore?"

"Why not?" James asked, grinning.

"It sounds so . . . blergh. Like I just imagine one of those porcelain creeps with Aunt Tal's face on them. Eugh."

"Anthony Edward Stark, did you just subtly call me ugly?"

"What? No!"

"Besides," James said, "I've barely seen any movies, let alone old ones."

"No, I don't mean old black-and-white stuff. I mean like, movies set in like really old times. Like that stupid World War 2 romance movie where that soldier got drafted and in all his letters home, he called that girl 'doll' and then when he got back, he realised he forgot her name. . ."

While Anthony rambled on about the movie that truthfully sounded like she would have seen it, Peggy's mind drifted. There was something nagging her. She just couldn't put her finger on it. It bugged her the entire day, as well as the next.

///////////////

"Jamie! Hello, love!"

"Evening, Peggy," James said, leaving Ana to greet Peggy. "All good?"

"Yes, why?"

"You're . . . bouncing. You never bounce. Uh, is Natalia back yet?"

Peggy's eyebrows lifted, as if she'd just realised something. "No! They're still out. Howard's got something big going on at work these days so he spends a lot of time there. Anyway, come with me. I've got something I want to ask you."

"No problem," James said, offering Pegyy his arm.

"Why, thank you, Sergeant Barnes."

She hadn't called him that since the day they'd met in the hospital and James had almost forgotten he reminded Peggy of someone in her past. Still, he didn't call attention to it. People made mistakes all the time.

Peggy walked until they were in Howard's study where she was sure they wouldn't be disturbed. "Jamie, I want to know a few things from you."

"Uh, sure. What's up?"

"What's your full name?"

James laughed slightly, grinning until he realised Peggy was serious. "James Buchanan Barnes. Why?"

"What is the name of the person you know best and what is the name of the person who knows the most about you?"

"Oh, that's easy, they're both Natalia."

"Jamie, do you even know your birthday?"

"Yeah. It's tenth March."

Peggy stepped closer to James. "What year?" she asked softly. "In what year were you born?"

"Peg, what's going on with you?"

"You don't know, do you?"

"Of course I know! It's nineteen--! Uh. . ."

Peggy stared at James for a second. "Seventeen. You were born in 1917, Jamie. You served in the war. You died in the war. Your best friend was Steve Rogers. You had three little sisters and you all lived with your parents. You and your family was all Steve had. You . . . you were my best friend too."

James stared at Peggy. "You're joking. You're making it up."

"Why would I make this up, Jamie? Do you really think I'm that desperate to have something to hold on to from some of the best days in my life?"

"Peg . . . it doesn't make sense. Look at you! Look at me! I don't look anything near your age!"

"I don't know how it happened, Jamie, but I know that once upon a time, you used to be Bucky Barnes. You used to braid my hair, you used to make the best tea I ever had, you used to always say that you'd bring me home so the girls could meet their older sister, you said we would all make it out of the war, you said you would help Howard with that stupid car, you said you were gonna get me married to Steve, you said so many things and then you went and DIED!"

James just managed to dodge Peggy's left hook.

"Peggy Carter, what is wrong with you?!"

"You promised you'd help us win the war and we had to do it without you!"

"That wasn't me, Peggy!"

"Bullshit, Barnes! What's stopping you from remembering me?"

James's jaw dropped. "My memory is the biggest problem you have with this theory of yours?! If I'm really your best friend, I should be looking like you!"

"Theory?!" Peggy cried, "I know you're Bucky and I pray that it's not too late when you remember!"

///////////////

Peggy's outburst sat on James's mind for days.

"What's on your mind, darling?" Natalia asked one afternoon, leaning over James's shoulder to steal a few fries.

"Nothing, doll," James lied, smiling and snatching one of the fries from her hand with his mouth. "Stop stealing my food."

Natalia rolled her eyes and grabbed two more before sitting across James. "Don't lie to me, darling, you're not that good at it."

James debated lying again, but decided she was right. Once she'd looked past the Winter Soldier, she stopped being blind to all his little lies too. Not that the reverse wasn't true.

"Hydra wants you."

Natalia froze with her hand over the fries. "What?"

"Hydra wants me to recruit you."

"You can't recruit me. I'm Red Room!"

"Try telling that to Karpov. He's a bitch when he wants to be."

Natalia rolled her eyes. "Maybe he and Barkova are siblings."

"Barkova?"

"Madame B, her name is Vladimira Barkova. Didn't you know?"

"No. Should I have?"

Natalia shrugged. "Maybe not. Anyway, how would Hydra even manage that? Madame B doesn't let her students and agents go that easy."

"Well, Karpov never explained that bit, but I'm pretty sure he's not talking about getting Madame's permission for this."

Natalia pulled her hand back and slumped into a normal seated position in her chair. "Hydra wants me to ditch the Red Room," she said, "as if I were trying to escape."

James nodded. "I believe so. There are numerous ways we could do that and I'm sure you've run through them all already, knowing that none would work but. . ."

"James, are you actually considering this?"

"Yes, Natalia. I am. Because I don't want to spend the rest of my life running, looking over my shoulder. I don't want that for me and I sure as hell don't want it for you. Do you think things have gotten better because we know about each other? No! It's probably gotten worse! Because when this is over, Hydra's going to take me back and wipe my memory. I won't remember you. I won't be able to miss you. And worst of all, I'll hate you all over again! I won't remember loving you! And you! You won't get that luxury. You'll have to see me hating you while remembering a time when I loved you! Knowing you, you'd stand your ground and you'd let me shoot you! Because I know me, and I know I'd rather die trying to save you than fight you to survive. If we do this," James had stood up and now leaned on the table, palms on either side of his forgotten food, "there is a chance that won't happen. There's a chance at a life for us. We'd be partners. We'd be together. Hydra isn't saving us, but it would protect you from the Red Room."

Natalia blinked very slowly. "I can't kill Howard," she whispered, "I can't do that to them."

"You don't have to do it. You just have to let me."

"I can't -- I can't let you kill Howard. I -- he's my mission!"

"And mine."

Natalia shook her head, trying to find her footing in this whole disaster.

"And one way or another, doll, one of us is going to have to lose this mission."

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Masterpost

#apartment 42 #fanfiction #marvel #90s #au #buckynat #tony stark #peggy carter #bucky barnes #natasha romanoff

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pixiealtaira · 7 years ago

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Birthday Gifts

In honor of my youngest turning 18 (still have to get the boy through his last year of high school...convincing him this does not make him totally an adult is a bit of effort...ugh!)...here is a little tale to celebrate.

Pairing: None....a Kurt Hummel and Elliot and Dani friendship fic.

Seriously, the best thing about Kurt’s birthday that first year was that NYADA had had their finals two weeks before, but the Summer sessions did not start up again until the next week. He had one more week before he spent several weeks straight being tortured by Cassie July in an effort to catch up and be ready for intermediate dance for stage. He had tap and Jazz and ballet and lyrical and hip-hop and street and Latin dance and ballroom techniques and…he was going to die. He also had the rest of vocal techniques, drama year one, script analysis and, of all things, English 101. All shoved into June, July and half of August. So, yeah, the best part of his birthday was that he was on his summer break!

Rachel was insisting that the fact his birthday was on Memorial Day was the best thing…but Kurt did not agree.

Kurt wasn’t home in Lima. He would not be visiting the graveyard to place flowers at his mother’s grave and at the gravesite of his Dad’s friend, who’d been in the Air Force in ’91 and had been in Desert Storm…or the gravesite of Harmon, who worked at the garage when Kurt was little and taught Kurt how to do Elvis’s hips and died of Lung Cancer and who had served in Vietnam and held his friend’s hand as he died in his arms. And his friend was named Marius Rossi and was from New York and one of the other guys had wanted to be an actor who acted in Musicals, on Broadway like Kurt wanted, and would tease Marius by singing ‘Maria, I’ve found a girl named Maria’ until Marius shut him up by kissing him right smack on the lips…and that guy had died too but Harmon hadn’t been close enough to him to hold his hand. Kurt hoped his dad remembered to put the extra flowers at Harmon’s grave for Marius and their friend. Kurt wasn’t home for the evening barbeque with the guys from the shop and the Memorial Day Poker and Darts tournament that happened in the backyard if the weather was nice or in the house garage if it was nasty outside. He wasn’t home to make enough during this evening to fund half his summer wardrobe…mostly because both poker and darts were played better when sober. His traditional Memorial Day activities were not an option.

Blaine had chosen to go to California and spend the weekend with Cooper…and take Sam with him…instead of visiting Kurt. He also told Kurt that he wouldn’t be calling or anything until he was back to Ohio because he couldn’t figure out the time zone thing without giving himself a headache and he didn’t want Kurt to call him because he wasn’t sure when he’d be in while at Cooper’s. They planned on spending most of their time out and about, after all they wouldn’t have time for FUN while in LA for Nationals. He’d not said Happy Birthday before he left, nor had he sent any gift of any sort. Kurt wasn’t even sure Blaine remembered he had a birthday. Blaine had plenty of time for social media though, and he remembered all about sending pictures of him and Sam at the beaches and Disneyland to the Dalton Facebook group.

And New York during Memorial Day was nuts. The whole weekend had been nuts. Everyplace was too crowded with people going and trying to do things while they had time off. Friday night at callbacks had been so packed Kurt felt faint from lack of air and that had just been that start. He worked at the diner on Saturday and they never had a pause. There had been a line at least 15 people long out the door of the place for seven full hours! Sunday was so bad on the subway when they went out that Kurt ended up bruised and had clothing torn. And the amount of people trying to grill in places where one should NOT grill was insane. It was NUTS! They had heard almost non stop sirens for most of Saturday night and it hadn’t stopped. Between his feet hurting from work and then Rachel’s Day At Central Park (a non-stop complaint fest due to lack of ‘good’ space for the blanket he dragged through the subway and then halfway through the park for her) and the sirens, Kurt wanted nothing more to do for HIS birthday than sit home, maybe with ear plugs in, put his feet up and watch HIS choice of movie and eat HIS choice of takeout. He’d like to do it with friends…or at least not alone. He was willing to do many things…as long as he didn’t have to leave the loft or be subject to packed spaces with no breathing room and which endangered his feet more. Board game tournament? He could do that. A karaoke party…doable as long as it was at the loft. He didn’t think he was being too picky.

He hadn’t stopped hearing about his plans…or lack thereof…since he voiced them after Rachel woke him at 6:00 am to find out what ‘grand adventure’ he wanted to embark upon. Rachel…who had stolen his earplugs to block out the sirens all night long so she could get her beauty rest and preserve her ‘more important than anyone else’s’ delicate and ever so sensitive ears…and thus slept all night long woke him up…on HIS birthday...hadn’t been pleased at all when he said he wanted to stay in, maybe have a grand adventure at the loft. She whined and then yelled and then stomped her foot. And then demanded he get up and make birthday pancakes since he was being a ‘self-centered pig wrapped in a blanket’ which she then laughed like a hyena over. Yeah. All it had done was cement his desire to stay the heck home.

Rachel and Santana had finally left to ‘go out and do something’ since they didn’t want to sit around being a downer all day and didn’t care how crushing it was outside…and why should they let him decide the activity for that day anyway…Kurt’s birthday or not. Home was finally quiet. He was getting ready to pop in his Pity Party movie instead of something celebratory, because…the girls chose ‘fun’ and ‘excitement’ over friendship, again. He did have his choice of take-out, though, so it wasn’t a total miss.

He wasn’t expecting a knock on the loft door…or for the ones knocking to just left themselves in.

Food halfway to his mouth, he turned just in time to put the fork back onto his plate before he was ambush hugged by Dani, who then removed the plate from his hands and passed him off to Elliot.

“So…we heard that it was your Birthday. Of course we also heard you were being a party pooper and didn’t want to go out.” Dani said.

“So, we might have done a bit of calling around and…” Elliot added.

“You have about a half hour to change into something wonderful and fabulous before your party comes to you! Eat on the run!” Dani finished, pushing him off towards his room after handing him his plate again.

“And we promise no one will try to barbeque anything!” Elliot shouted before tasking other members of the band different jobs…like quick clean up and pushing furniture around and putting the dessert table and drink tables together.

Dani followed after him. “Eat, Kurt. You’ll get a belly ache if you just drink and eat sweets with us at your party. Then shower and I’ll have something waiting for you to put on.”

Kurt ate quickly while gathering the basics to take into the bathroom with him…underwear and his towels. Dani wouldn’t release anything else to him.

He showered and was about to start doing his hair when Dani barged in and dragged him back to the bedroom area, whistles and catcalls from the other band members following in his wake. Kurt was pretty sure he saw the band gear going up in one of the corners and his movie was playing in the back ground as the others worked, snippets of song floating back to Dani and the waiting clothing.

“The top first and then I’ll do your hair while you finish getting dressed.” Dani demanded, pointing to the ¾ sleeved white Henley sitting on the bed.

Kurt got the shirt on and had barely pulled it all the way down when he felt hands full of mousse running through his hair. He sighed and reached for the pants.

“These aren’t something I own.” Kurt said, holding the leather pants that laced up the legs.

“Well, now you do. Happy Birthday. I decided you needed clubbing clothing and Elliot chose these so they could double as ‘Rock Dude!’ if we want to try something a bit more extreme at some point.”

“Rock dude?” Kurt asked and sounded quite dubious.

“What? You could totally do Freddy Mercury if you gave yourself a chance, not to mention some of the newer rocky stuff.”

Kurt tilted his head. “I could try.”

“Well, try later. People other than us will be here soon.” Dani said.

Kurt managed to get the pants on and properly fastened up and was adding to the outfit a black velvet sleeveless waistcoat that Kurt thought screamed Pirate or something.

“This is also an Elliot choice,” Kurt said fastening the front. “I can tell. It has a very steampunk vibe to it. I think it will become a favorite though, it is very comfortable. Dani? What are you doing?”

Dani just chuckled and pushed Kurt back until he was sitting on the bed again.

“I’m not really an eyeliner type of a guy” Kurt protested as his makeup was skillfully done in very little time.

“You look amazing.” Dani said, dragging him to look in the mirror over the chest of drawers.

Kurt smiled. He did look pretty good. It wasn’t at all his usual look, but he could certainly appreciate it and he’d definitely be willing to repeat the look to go out another time.

“Damn. If there weren’t going to be so many other here, I’d totally tell you to go barefooted all evening. You look delicious with bare feet.” Dani said. “Unfortunately I cannot guarantee the safety of your toes…nor your virtue if Elliot saw you like that. I suggest black boots probably.”

Kurt chuckled. “I’ve got those covered. Biker boots be too much? Or would riding boots look better?”

“Like English riding boots?” Dani asked. “Those…I think.”

Kurt finished the look after getting his feet covered by adding a pocket watch on a chain and a blood red silk scarf and finally convincing Dani that piercing his ears needed to wait at least another year or so because his dad would flip out completely if he did so and there had been too many health scares to do that to him yet.

He finished dressing just in time. The first knock on his loft door was followed by a steady stream on knocking. People he knew from NYADA were gathering as well as people from Vogue.com and people he’d met through work at the diner and through Elliot and Dani. The counter space was quickly filled with goodies like cakes and cookies and other sweet treats and other snacks like nuts and chips. One of the guys Elliot introduced Kurt to had set up a small bar off to one corner and was fixing drinks and handling sodas and bottled water as well. His movie had been restarted and a few people had settled in front of the TV on beanbags he was certain he did not own, while other people danced in the open middle area to the music produced by a small mix station that Kurt knew wasn’t there before he’d gone to shower. The DJ was a girl who skated with Dani. The music wasn’t too loud, great for dancing to but not loud enough to make it impossible for those watching the movie to hear it. Half in Rachel’s ‘room’ was a small table set up where people were playing cards and the band’s gear was set up so people would sing later. On the edge of the stage was a pile of gifts. Everyone there seemed to be having fun and Kurt was having a blast.

Someone had procured a large sheet cake with ‘Happy Birthday, Kurt!’ scrawled across the top and music notes in a rainbow of colors scattered over it as the rest of the decoration. It was vanilla cake with a raspberry filling and a slightly lemony flavored icing.

“Do you like it?” Dani asked.

“I love it.” Kurt said, finishing his slice. Elliot had made him blow out candles before serving the cake and Kurt couldn’t help but smile as everyone sang to him.

“Santana said you were very picky about chocolate cake but liked white cakes with fruit fillings pretty well, and I thought just plain flavored icing was boring.”

“You asked her today?” Kurt asked.

Dani giggled. “Oh no. All we heard from them today was when Rachel called to complain that you were being mean. I texted her and Santana that we were going to be here at the loft this evening and to come join us here, but neither answered. No, I asked way back around Easter time, but then you made us cheesecake for Easter.”

Kurt smiled. The fact Dani had remembered that long and thought about what he’d like made him even happier.

After the cake Elliot and the band set up and offered their services for karaoke…which was done for about an hour and half before someone suggested a name that song competition. Kurt put up his laundry money as payout…in two dollar wins. Chase’s boyfriend was the big winner, much to Chase’s surprise. He won 12 of the 25 rounds.

Kurt opened gifts right before midnight and people went back to dancing to the DJ for about another hour after that as the party died down and people started to wander out. As the majority of people were leaving right around 2am, Kurt made sure to be at the door, thanking them all for showing up.

He looked back to his loft as he shut the door after the last group to leave other than the band and Dani and Elliot. The floor was clean, all the trash picked up and sacked up to be taken down to the dumpster, and Elliot and the other band members were moving the furniture back while Dani set his kitchen to rights. There wasn’t really anything left for him to do. The beanbags were piled in the corner, the drummer informing him they were there to stay. Kurt watched and thought that all in all, he had some awesome friends after all, just not the ones he had been counting on.

“You guys are amazing.” Kurt blurted out.

Elliot laughed, and tossed the throw pillow onto the perfectly replaced sofa before coming over to gather Kurt into a hug.

“Happy Birthday, Kurt. There was no way we were going to leave you to celebrate by yourself. Not for your 20th. Next year we will be going out though. I’m taking you bar hopping! Your other half will just have to stay home and pout. Too bad he couldn’t make it up for your birthday though. It would have been a great weekend for him to come visit. Rachel said he was too swamped with school though.”

Kurt snorted. “Blaine might be swamped with school, but the reason he didn’t come visit for the weekend, even though I called and asked him to come, was because he decided Sam needed to see California and spend time doing fun stuff there before they went back for Nationals in a week. They needed some ‘bro’ time at his brother’s place so they could handle the rest of the year without getting too down, it’s been sooo hard on them, you know. At least he told me he was heading out with Sam to see Cooper and Disneyland before I bought him the ticket to come see me this time.”

“So, what did he send to make up for missing your birthday?” Dani asked.

“Nothing.” Kurt said. “He probably forgot.”

Elliot just hugged him tighter. “Well then, I guess coming bearing gifts and a party was even more necessary. You had a good time, right? I know we sort of sprang it on you.”

Kurt hugged back and kissed his cheek. “I had a blast. I honestly think this might have been my best birthday yet. Thank you so much, you guys.”

Dani pulled him out of Elliot’s arms into her own and kissed him soundly. “You are always welcome. Honestly, everyone I talked to had fun as well. We might have to do this more often. The loft is perfect for gatherings like this. With summer coming up maybe we can put together parties more often. Like for Flag day!”

“June is National Accordion Awareness month!” the girl who played the bass and keyboard said.

“Really?” Kurt asked

She nodded. “We could play polkas and learn to polka and then have a Weird Al name that song contest!”

“We should really do a Pride month celebration….either a get ready for Pride or a Pride recovery party.” Elliot said.

“I wouldn’t mind at all if we can always get the place back to it’s normal as quickly as you all did tonight. Thank you so much for doing that. Last time we did something like this I was trying to get things back to normal for weeks…Rachel and Brody moved stuff but they did NOT help put it to rights. Some of our furniture does not move easily by just one person.”

Their drummer laughed. “Anytime time you need help moving stuff around just call. We cannot risk you throwing your back out just when we are getting regular gigs.”

“I’ll remember that. You might be sorry you offered.” Kurt said.

“Just have some of those cookies you had at practice last week as pay.” He said with a dreamy sigh.

The keyboardist and sometimes bassist and the other guitarist laughed. “It was a lot more fun that going out tonight. Dani was so right about that. I was disappointed we didn’t perform more though.” One of the girls said.

“Nah. I think the fact we performed once was enough. Everyone there who hadn’t heard us before now might want to come see us at the next gig.” The other replied. “We left them wanting.”

“And we play Thursday Night.” Kurt said. “Elliot got us this one.”

“I’ll text everyone tomorrow a set list, after sleep…and work and class. Which I’d better getting going to so I can make it to see all of those.”

Kurt was passed to the rest of the band members for hugs as well as they left. He looked back to the loft and the movie which had been turned on again as everyone cleaned up. He wandered to the kitchen to get some water before he headed off to bed and wondered when Santana and Rachel would make it home. He knew Elliot had texted them again before midnight but neither had answered. If they were doing their usual though, Santana would get Rachel to stay out till one or two, especially if they’d found someone to buy them drinks. Kurt was the one that headed home early.

There were several pieces of cake left on a plate in the refrigerator. Other than the bean bags and the gifts he hadn’t yet moved to his bedroom, the pieces of cake were the only evidence left out saying they had had a party at the loft.

He gathered the gifts still left out and took them with him to his bedroom, shutting off the TV and most the lights. He wasn’t waiting up. Tucking his loot away on top of his dresser, Kurt stripped down and hung everything that didn’t need washed up. He showered and settled into bed.

He had managed to eat HIS choice of takeout. He had seen at least some of HIS choice of movie…and better yet others had enjoyed it as well. He’d even managed to play a round of poker, even if he hadn’t won. And really, the loft was good for lots of things but it wasn’t really good for darts when crowded but he’d played other games. So he didn’t end up putting his feet up…he also never had to leave the safety of loft and deal with crowded venues. All in all, Kurt couldn’t complain at all. The three he’d counted on coming through for him…you know, the ones who promised to be there through thick or thin…failed him on his day, but not everyone did. And it was nice to know that he had friends who would be there for him, even if they weren’t the ones he expected.

The best part of the first birthday in New York was knowing he had somewhere along the way managed to make friends who would come through for him, despite the roadblocks the friends from Lima who promised to always be there for him kept throwing up. And that wasn’t something to take lightly.

#glee fanfic #Kurt Hummel #elliot gilbert #Dani

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kimishima-naomi · 7 years ago

Text

Elysium

Dennis Taylor is the first one to appear, stepping out of the shadows in the hospital ward as if he was biding his time.

“Nice shooting there, doc,” and it takes her a moment to understand what he’s referring to. “I wonder if Teddy could have used someone like you. Though you don’t seem the type to get mixed up with dope.”

It’s not the white shirt he’s wearing – it’s the red t-shirt his friend had mentioned, and Naomi thinks idly about the ghosts’ choice of attire.

“Aren’t you wondering why I came here? Well, shit, truth be told I don’t know myself. Though I’m still kinda pissed about boys in blue rifling through my underwear drawer. Anyway, you’ve got more visitors coming, so stick around. Thanks for catching the psycho who stabbed me, by the way. Shoulda shot his balls off. Drugs is drugs, but wet work? Hell no, I’m clean.”

He lingers in the faint moonlight coming through the window and only slinks off when Veronica appears by her side. Dead she may be, but she bears traces of that liveliness Naomi had only seen in her picture.

“…I wonder sometimes if you should have just let sleeping dogs lie, doctor.” Her voice is quiet and sorrowful. “My parents… they really don’t deserve something like this. Please tell me the judge is going to go easy on them.”

Naomi doesn’t have the strength to speak, but she won’t agree. Locking their own child in her room like this, letting her die alone, trying to pretend everything was normal… no, that wasn’t something she could forgive.

“I’ve been… horrible to them, myself, but I couldn’t help it. This disease has really hurt everyone involved, hasn’t it? My parents and me… and now you. I hope there won’t be any more victims.”

Her hand brushes against Naomi’s, and the doctor can swear she feels a warm touch – the dead girl seems more alive than she herself is, now.

“I don’t know if they’ve forgiven me, now, but I can’t forget it yet. I just…” her voice breaks in a sob. “I just w-wanted my mom to hold me…”

With what little strength she can muster, Naomi closes her fingers around Veronica’s – but it’s on thin air.

“Thanks for bringing closure to us, Naomi.” Abigail walks in next, and Naomi recalls she was the first one to be killed. “Well, as much as it can be called closure. Mother was always religious – dad used to make fun of it, gently – but never something crazy like this. …It wasn’t really her, was it?”

Naomi shakes her head slightly.

“Good. I know, brain damage can really mess people up, but I’d have never thought… At least it was out of love. I was a late child – they weren’t blessed with kids, you see, and they’d stopped trying – until I was born. They always doted on me… It’s a shame it ended like this. I didn’t think my dad would outlive us. Naomi, I know it’s a lot of me to ask, but – can you keep an eye on Joseph? If regulations allow, of course…”

She promises to herself that she will – if she lives long enough.

“…Oh dear.” Alma’s voice is instantly familiar, even if she’s only heard it through her phone. “I wish I could help you in some way. Hospitals are terrible places to be in. I would visit you if I could.”

She is, indeed, the doting grandmother Naomi expected her to be, and it makes it even the more painful to imagine how she stabbed that stake through Abigail’s body.

“You look frightened. I’m so sorry.” She sits down on the hospital bed, and the mattress shifts under her weight. “How could I ever do something like this to my Abby… She forgave me, and I only hope Joseph does, too. …I don’t think he’s long for this world without us.”

Neither am I, Naomi thinks to herself – but Alma looks at her with gentle reproach.

“No, Miss. It isn’t your time yet. I have faith in the skills of the doctors here – don’t you?”

She does, but they couldn’t stop certain death.

“A lot of people are hoping that you’ll live through this. Please, stay strong for their sake.” Alma stands up, but then adds solemnly: “But, if you can’t, I understand. I will welcome you to the other side then.”

Aidan Posner is unmistakable, with his Hollywood smile and purposely ruffled hair. Then, it’s just the victims she handled personally? Makes sense.

“I hoped I’d leave a handsome corpse. Shame I went like this – a beautiful woman like you shouldn’t have to deal with burned remains. …Sorry, force of habit. Flirting is what fans loved, even if Melissa was always saying I’d put myself at danger. I hope she finds a new job soon; she’s a great manager.”

He’s the most restless of them all, pacing the room in the moonlight. What was he like on a tennis court?

“Thank you for stopping the Raging Bomber, Doctor Kimishima. You did what the rest of the FBI couldn’t. If not for you, there would have been a lot more victims.”

Still, she blames herself.

Eldred isn’t someone she wants to see, and they both know it.

“…Well, you know what? I don’t regret it.” The way he says it, she wonders if he’s convincing himself too. “Money was tight, I couldn’t have paid my college off on my own… if I gotta be the one to make a few prank calls, hell yeah. Shame I got cocky, but hey, the guitar was a legend. If you’d appreciated music like I do, you’d know how hot it was to trace her neck with my fingers. But here’s the thing with legends – they don’t last, do they? I went out in a blaze of glory. Worth it!”

Eldred departs just as hastily. She hopes that Sartre will be next.

But it’s the all too familiar figure with the wild mane of red hair that perches on the windowsill, and Naomi’s heart races.

“Naomi Kimishima. Didn’t think we’d meet again.” Lieberman sounds different somehow, though. “Oh, don’t be afraid. It wasn’t me that you’ve met.”

She remembers now – she can remember it all, vividly – the way Sandra’s voice changed just before Rosalia virus sank its talons into her.

“If it makes a difference, I admired your work. It’s a shame that I wasn’t of the right mind. Who knows, we may have yet worked together. …But these aren’t the words you expect from me, are they? Well, I don’t think there is anything I could say now. There isn’t a chance for me to make amends, Doctor Kimishima. What about you?”

How do you – how could you know?!

“It’s something you said in the airport, Doctor – you said you had to atone. I wonder… but it’s not my place to inquire. Whatever it is you blame yourself for, a mind like yours deserves to keep existing. Honestly, twisted as it is of me to think, I regret that I couldn’t truly clash wits with you. You’ve solved better puzzles than four pathetic riddles.”

She jumps down, landing with a faint echo of a sound.

“Rosalia – that’s what the presence that’s plagued my mind called itself. It screamed out its name until it drowned out my voice. I was hoping you’d stop it, Doctor, and you did! Bravo. It would be a shame if you conceded defeat now. You’ve gone all in; don’t fold your cards yet.”

She’s standing close now, and Naomi thinks she can feel that particular smell that she remembers from Sandra’s room – black powder, mixed with floral perfume.

“May I?” Naomi nods weakly, and Sandra’s incorporeal hand briefly clutches her own in an imitation of a handshake. “Well played, Naomi Kimishima – I’ll spare you the nickname. Until we meet again… and it better not be soon.”

Sartre takes a long while to speak after he appears. His head is bowed, dark hair obscuring his face. Something in him reminds her of CR-S01. They may not be related by blood, but, when it comes to medicine, they have the same kind of obsession.

“I… am sorry.”

I know.

“If only there was something I could change now… This monster consumed my life. My children. Rose… she’s dead, and Erhard… how could I ever be this callous? Please, Doctor Kimishima… you know the truth now. You have to save him. He is innocent. Give him back the life I took from him.”

He pleads, but it’s futile. If it isn’t Rosalia that claims her life, it will be GUILT.

“You are in good hands, Doctor. Erhard is one of the most talented surgeons to ever exist. Please-!”

And his speech breaks into hasty French, pleading something with her, reiterating her name again and again, almost crying. She wonders why anyone would care.

The ward is slowly getting lighter – it must be dawn. Albert runs out of words eventually, and stands next to her bed with face buried in hands before finally turning on his heels and making his way out of the ward – do ghosts really need a way out? – his footsteps unsteady and shoulders hunched, weighed down by his grief.

It’s no surprise when Rosalia appears, and Naomi manages a smile for a girl she knows so well despite not meeting her.

But Rose doesn’t speak. She takes a seat on the hospital bed as well, but she sits quietly, thin shoulders rising with breaths she doesn’t need to take. Still, her presence is welcome.

Then again, there isn’t anything to say between them. The girl had been there in spirit, and she knows everything. Maria’s breakdown over her body. The frantic search for the cure. Naomi collapsing in exhaustion on the couch that was once Sartre’s and Holden finding an old blanket for her to wrap around herself.

Rosalia probably knows more than Naomi herself does. Her own memory cuts off from her collapsing in the hospital corridor, alone. This has to be a hospital ward – but how long has it been? Is this reality, and is she alive herself, with the dead walking in and out of her consciousness?

The sun rises high enough for her to make out the ward, in grayscale, right down to the equipment by her bed and a plant in the corner – but she can’t distinguish her own body under the covers, or find enough strength to toss them off herself. What kind of existence is this?

Why are you here, Rosalia? I’d thought you passed on when you got your closure. Are you here to ferry me across the Styx?

Still she doesn’t move, fingers gripping the hem of the blanket tight, looking at her pleadingly.

The sun keeps rising – and soon the ward is washed in golden light of dawn. In the sun, the unreality of the spirit is now apparent, rays passing through her to leave no shadow.

Naomi closes her eyes and focuses on her own breathing – faint to the point she can barely feel it.

The ghosts right now feel more real than the living to her. Still – she forces herself to remember: Derek, Angie, Kenneth, Little Guy, Gabe, Tomoe, Hank, Maria, CR – or Erhard… Alyssa…

She forces herself to take a deep breath.

A hollow pain wreaks her chest immediately, so bad that she bites down on her lips; but the pain is real, at least, it means she’s alive, and Naomi can feel her heart beating on.

She has to live, she has to keep living.

She’s close to passing out from the pain – the heart monitor by her side is sounding in alarm – but she opens her eyes.

Rosalia stands up slowly, a smile of relief on her face, and Naomi sees her fading with daylight.

And when she wakes up again, the ward is bright –

“…You’re awake. How do you feel?”

– and Tomoe is waiting by her side.

#trauma center #trauma team #fanfic #naomi kimishima

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royaltyjunk · 8 years ago

Text

Candlelight in the Shadows [T, Fire Emblem: New/Mystery of the Emblem]

Summary: Only when Minerva shuts the door does she realize that Michalis had been hiding from the slanting sunlight pouring through his window. Written for the FE: Community Design challenge on Tumblr.

@fe-communitydesign

Author’s Ideas: The theme was light/dark. I love me some FE1/11/3/12. Also, Minerva’s great, I would die for her. So have both. Bonus of a family/sibling theme. [Minerva was my first five-star in Heroes and I’m so glad she was she’s great and you bet your ass I was on Team Minerva] I may or may not have been so busy writing this I forgot to memorize my lines for an upcoming show… let’s pretend that never happened :^)

As always, readable on FanFiction.

Disclaimer: I don’t own Fire Emblem - obviously.

Minerva knocks gently on the wooden door in front of her, the sound reverberating through the empty hallways.

“Michalis?”

The clock in the hallway ticks away furiously as she waits for a response from her brother. His gruff voice doesn’t respond from the other side of the door, and she knocks again.

“Michalis? Are you in there?”

Still, silence. She’s knocking desperately now.

“Michalis!?”

There’s a soft noise from the other side of the door, and Minerva leans against the door, calling loudly, “Michalis!? What’s happening? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Go away.”

“Michalis…!”

When she hears her brother’s voice, she’s filled with relief, but it dies down as soon as he tells her to leave. With a huff of impatience and annoyance, she shoves open the door. “Michalis, you can’t just-”

“I said go away!” Michalis screams.

Minerva squints, spotting her brother squished up against the wall. “What are you-”

She pushes the door shut behind him and rushes to Michalis, but stops halfway there, catching a glance of her brother.

“Stay away, Minerva… go away… I don’t want to hurt. I don’t know what I could do like this, but… I don’t want you to suffer because of it.”

There was something majorly wrong with Michalis ever since the war ended - Minerva could tell, but she didn’t know it could amount to this - to this hideousness that’s crawling up along the left side of Michalis’s body.

His entire left side is a splotch of purple darkness, a mess of violet, lavender, magenta. His left hand is no different, and his entire hand has warped, now only a wrinkled palm with gnarly fingers and long, curly nails. His sclera is black, and he stares at her with a pleading red iris, a clear contrast to his remaining brown eye. His hair is dotted with black, red, and purple, like strands of the shadows themselves.

“It’s been seven years… I don’t understand. It was only supposed to last for that first war,” Michalis gasps, his form trembling violently.

“What was?” Minerva asks, her blood growing cold.

“Medeus’s darkness…” he whispers, “was his powers. He gave me some… he said he would take it away when I was defeated.”

“But… I defeated you,” Minerva says. “I defeated you… I know I did!”

“I know you did!” Michalis cries. “Something is wrong!”

She takes a step back shakily, a hand ghosting over her lips in shock.

“I have to tell Sister Lena… and Maria…” Minerva murmurs. “They’ll know what to do, they-”

“Just leave me alone,” he hisses, glaring at her from his position, pressed up against the wall. “Leave me alone!”

Only when Minerva shuts the door does she realize that Michalis had been hiding from the slanting sunlight pouring through his window.

~ / . / . / ~

The sunlight grows stronger the next day, when Michalis refuses to leave the shadows, and Maria spends the morning helping Sister Lena.

“Maria?” Minerva calls into the sanctuary tentatively.

“In here!” Her sister responds from the inside, and she follows Maria’s voice.

Minerva walks in on Lena, Julian and Maria, measuring a white dress.

“Who is that for?” Minerva asks, watching Maria collect a few pieces of ceremonial wear off the floor.

“We made it for you!” Maria says, rushing out the sanctuary and down the hallway, her ceremonial robes in her arms.

“But you didn’t have to-”

“Oh, come on, Minerva. Let us pamper you for a bit,” Julian grins, and Lena elbows him gently. With an “oof”, Julian leaves the room, a playful expression on his face. His wife sighs before holding out the white dress in front of Minerva.

“It looks wonderful. Why don’t you try it on?”

Minerva sighs in defeat before trudging off to her room, and Lena stifles a laugh behind her hand.

She emerges back into the sanctuary a few minutes later, a gentle expression on her face.

“It’s a very nice dress,” Minerva murmurs, spinning. “I couldn’t tie the strings on my back. There were too many.”

The red-haired bishop reaches forward, grasping at the strings and tightening them. “How is it?” Lena asks, gently tugging at the fabric strings along Minerva’s back.

“It’s fine. You can tie it.”

The strings are fastened along Minerva’s back, and she reaches for her red coat, slinging it on. Lena stands back, looking her over before smiling warmly.

“You look wonderful.”

“Sister Lena!”

Maria rushes up the sanctuary’s halls, her ceremonial bishop robes flowing behind her. There’s a veil in her arms and her bishop’s pendant is clutched in her hand.

Lena takes the veil from Maria and fastens it onto Maria’s head with a smile. Maria clips on her pendant and smiles back. Lena gives her a gentle kiss on the forehead. “There you go. Go on, now.”

“We’ll be back before you know it!” Maria grins and pushes open the doors. Lena watches Maria go before turning to Minerva, helping her button up her coat.

“It’s been awhile since we’ve had some orphans to care for. Keep an eye out for some, will you?” Lena asks, smoothing out Minerva’s coat when the last buttons click together.

“Alright,” Minerva gives Lena a slight curtsy, and the bishop smiles before leaning in.

“Keep an eye on Maria, too. I don’t know if it’s best for her to be outside after yesterday’s occurrences.”

Minerva nods, a wave of fear crashing over her. Shaking off the strong emotions, she follows Maria out of the church and down the streets that are crowded with people and vendors.

“The princesses of Macedon!”

“Over here, lovelies! I’ve got just the thing for you both!”

They ignore the calls of alluring shopkeepers and curious shoppers, looking upon the bustling city.

“Here you are!”

A light voice drifts from a certain stall along the edges of the city, and the sisters glance over. There, behind the makeshift open tavern, is a young brown-haired girl, her hair tied into a high ponytail with a pink hairband, a similar shade to the pink dress she wore. She hands off a red book to a customer, and looks up. Surprise lights in her eyes, but melts to happiness, and she waves, a great laugh bubbling from her lips.

“Princess Minerva! Princess Maria! Hello there!”

“Lady Linde? Why are you here?” Maria asks.

“Don’t call me ‘Lady Linde’! It makes you sound so formal, Maria. We’re friends!”

“Yes… yes, you’re right, Linde,” Maria beams. “But why are you here?”

“Selling tomes. Merric had way too many in his dusty academy in Altea, and I needed to raise some money to help rebuild Pales. It all worked out with this festival coming up, anyways.”

“Why come here? Surely there are better places to sell, where there are more purchasers?” Minerva asks.

“Oh, of course. I’m just covering as much ground and meeting as many old allies as I can in these few festival days.”

“Where have you been so far?” Behind her, Maria scuffles away, flipping through the pages of the tomes Linde has on sale.

“Altea, to visit Merric, Marth, and Caeda… Archanea, if you can still it that, to visit Jeorge, Midia, and Astram… I bumped into Sheena in Pales, with that mercenary friend of hers. Samson, I think? They were selling flowers and baskets, so if you need some, head on down there!” Linde winks, holding up a finger.

“It sounds nice. We’ll probably visit soon. Maria-” Minerva turns over her shoulder to speak to her sister, only to realize that the tavern is empty aside from her and Linde.

“Huh? Where’d Maria go?” Linde asks, tilting her head.

A pit of despair opens in Minerva’s stomach, and she excuses herself quickly, bursting from the small store Linde has set up and glancing around the stands. There’s not a sign of her sister, and Minerva rushes down the streets.

Panicked, Minerva opens the door to a nearby makeshift shop, and the bells on the door chime as she looks inside. In the corner of the store is a head of red, veiled by white. She rushes to the redhead, ignoring the smell of medicine and herbs, something that would have normally disturbed her greatly.

“Maria!”

Her sister slams a box in her hands shut and whips around. She stands abruptly, a guilty look on her face. “Minerva?”

“Why did you run off like that?” She notices Maria’s expression and reaches out, readjusting the veil around Maria’s head. “Is something wrong? What were you looking at?”

“…Herbs. Healing herbs,” Maria murmurs, clasping her fingers around her bishop’s pendant. “I wanted to see if there was anything that could help him.”

“Oh, Maria…” Minerva hugs her sister tight, and Maria tenses up before relaxing, squeezing Minerva back.

“He’ll be fine,” the older sibling whispers. “He’ll be fine, he’ll be okay.”

“I wish he would be,” Maria murmurs, and Minerva starts, pulling away.

“What do you mean?” She demands.

“Not knowing his symptoms doesn’t help,” Maria rambles on. “What caused that darkness? Why on him? I don’t know how to cure shadows. Even if staves use magical power, they can’t dispel the darkness. And herbs don’t help either. Michalis isn’t hurt physically, internally, or mentally - at least, it doesn’t seem like it.”

“Maria-”

“And I know, there’s no way to cure darkness. Darkness can only be slain by light, and to use light magic against Michalis wouldn’t just purify him, it’d remove him from the world along with the darkness in him, and I don’t want that to happen, I don’t!” Maria’s voice pitches to a breathy and high whisper, her words barely comprehensible with the multiple wavering in her voice.

“Maria… you need to rest. We’ll talk about this later. Let’s go back to the church for now,” Minerva murmurs. Thankfully, Maria just nods mutely, biting her lip. Her eyes are moist, but there are no tears - at least, not yet.

The bell above their heads chime as they open the door and walk down the cobblestone street that leads to the entrance of the wooden church. Lena is out front, washing a set of white dresses that belong to Maria. She glances up, surprise reflected on her face when she sees the Macedonian siblings.

“What are you two doing here?” She asks, standing and smoothing out her skirts. “I thought you were going to stay in the town square until night. There are many more shops this year than last year, aren’t there?”

“Maria needed a breather. Most of them were selling the same thing,” Minerva responded, lifting her white skirt to avoid trailing it in the mud around the stone path.

“What sorts of things?”

“Clothing, herbs and medicines, crops, weaponry, products like that. Although, we did run into Lady Linde. She was selling tomes on behalf of the people in Pales.”

“Linde? That’s interesting. I’ll have to stop by and give her my greetings.”

“I do believe Naverre was there,” Maria pipes up. “He was with another mercenary who looked much like him.”

“Samuel and Naverre?” Minerva asks, frowning. “They were here?”

Maria ponders on the thought, and responds, “I think they just came to look at the swords, though. They didn’t hear me calling out to them.”

Lena smiles, a nostalgic look in her eyes. “I’ll leave once I finish washing these, then. Can you two make sure you take them in at sundown if I’m not back by then?”

“Of course, Sister Lena,” Minerva nods before pushing open the large church doors, greeted by multi-colored light that pours in from the stained glass windows of the church sanctuary..

Julian is sitting in the back pews of the sanctuary, and looks behind him when he hears the door crack open. He smiles, standing and shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Back already?”

“Maria needed a breather,” Minerva repeats, shedding her red coat and hanging it up on the coat hanger beside the doors. The strong smell of herbs and flowers tells her that incense was recently burned. “Lena’s going out soon. You should join her.”

“Maybe I will,” Julian responds, brushing past them as he exits, whistling a soft tune.

The sisters share a knowing glance before exiting the sanctuary through a side door that leads into a carpeted hallway. The hallway is lit with small candles and sunlight streaming through the small windows. Minerva wrenches her gaze from the door on the far side of the hallway, a room too recently flooded with bitter darkness.

Maria opens the door to her room, and Minerva makes to leave, but her sister catches her hand. Minerva turns and Maria lets go of her hand.

“I’m tired of this, Minerva,” her sister murmurs, leaning against the doorframe. “I’m tired of these wars. Even if it’s over, the consequences still affect us and I dislike it so much.”

“I know, Maria,” Minerva coaxes. “I dislike it too. But we have to endure it.”

“Why us?” Maria cries loudly. “We fought hard and experienced heartbreak! We were just like the soldiers that fought alongside us! And yet… we have the worst consequence upon us! That we will lose-”

“Hush!” Minerva yells over her sister, and Maria stares at her, wide-eyed and mouth shut. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell at you. It’s just… Michalis…”

“I know, Minerva. I’m sorry for raising my voice too.”

Maria glances up at her sister anxiously, and Minerva smiles.

“Make sure you get some rest, Maria,” Minerva commands, stroking her hair.

“I want to see him,” Maria says. “Can I go with you tonight?”

“Maria…” One look at her sister tells Minerva that Maria is not going to be swayed. “Alright. I suppose. I’ll stop by your room when I go to visit him, at moonrise. Get some sleep by then, okay?”

Maria gives her a soft smile, but the light in her younger sister has disappeared somehow, and before Minerva can question her, the princess-turned-bishop closes the door on her.

~ / . / . ~

Her sister’s white dress glows under the candlelight, and Minerva huddles into her red coat self-consciously.

“Do you really want to come along?” Minerva whispers hushedly. Maria nods firmly, but doesn’t say anything. Minerva sighs. “Listen, Maria-”

“What are you girls doing up so late?” Julian’s voice rings from above them, and the sisters glance up to see the former thief leaning over the wooden railing of the staircase. “It’s almost night, and you know how active the little critters are around here.”

“We were just going to see Michalis,” Minerva calls back. “We’ll get to bed as soon as we finish.”

“Alright. Just don’t make Lena fret again, you hear?”

“Yes, Julian. Good night,” Minerva says, and Maria reiterates her sister’s words before hurrying down the hallway.

The candle in Maria’s hand glows, leading them past the corridors and the door to the sanctuary, where the smell of incense floats from. They stop at a door at the far end of the hallway, Michalis’s room, where Minerva takes a deep breath.

“Listen, Maria… I don’t know if it’s good for you to be here. Michalis didn’t want to see anyone last time I came by, but… if anyone, you deserve to see him. Don’t step out of line, alright?”

Maria squeezes Minerva’s hand, and she smiles before opening the door.

Michalis hisses as soon as he sees the door open, and presses himself closer to the smooth stone wall. His eyes soften for a moment when he realizes who had stepped into his room before hardening again, an angry look in his remaining brown eye.

“Michalis?” Minerva asks cautiously. Maria blows out the candle in the holder, and sets it down on the small table in the middle of the room before following Minerva closely, an unidentifiable look in her eyes.

“Why are you two here?” Michalis narrows his eyes, pulling his black cloak around himself and blending into the shadows, his head, half full of red hair and one brown eye the only things that stand out in the blackness. “I told you to stay away.”

“I-”

Minerva’s cut off by Maria, who lets out a noise, akin to the sound of choking. Minerva turns to her sister just before Maria collapses to her knees in front of Michalis. Minerva catches a glimpse of Maria’s face, and knows the look on her sister’s face - her eyes rimmed red and familiar hiccuping movement in her throat tells Minerva that she’s been crying, or is about to start.

“Maria!?” Michalis cries out, his eyes filled with worry and voice pitched with emotion. Yet, he only reaches out his unaffected hand from the shadows, but Maria takes his outstretched fingers, holding his hand tight as she cries into her other one.

“Maria…” Minerva sits beside her sister, tucking Maria’s stray hairs behind her ear.

Her breath is inconsistent from her, trying to hold back her tears.

“Maria, it’s okay. You can cry.”

“But-”

“We’re your siblings,” Minerva and Michalis both respond immediately.

Maria glances at them both, a lost look in her eyes before tears spring up, tears that fall too fast for her to stop, and soon she’s crying and crying, like she’s never cried before.

Stroking her sister’s hair, Minerva embraces her as Maria cries. Michalis squeezes her hand, and Maria gives him a gentle smile through the tears welling up in her eyes.

“What happened?” Michalis coaxes his sister, in a hushed voice.

Maria glances at Minerva pleadingly, and she nods to Maria, tightening their embrace for a second. Her younger sister lets out a gentle breath, nodding to Minerva.

The former Dragon Lord looks Michalis in the eyes, swallowing down the lump of fear and hesitation in her throat. Maria had entrusted her with this task.

“Maria… she was looking for ways to cure you.”

“You didn’t-”

“She couldn’t find one,” she says bluntly, and turns her head away, not bothering to hide the pained expression she knows is being displayed on her face.

“I can’t cure you. I can’t cure you,” the youngest of the siblings repeats softly to herself like a mantra, and then silences herself with another half-stifled sob. Michalis scoots forward a little bit.

“It’s just like that time,” Minerva murmurs under her breath.

“What time?” Michalis asks, looking at his sister.

“She’d stay up all night, just to make sure you were okay,” Minerva ignores his question, “and she’d work herself sick. It came to the point where I had to stay in her room to make sure she didn’t sneak off during the night to your room. She’d hug you and pray with tears streaming down her face. I remember it so vividly, like it was yesterday.”

“Maria… I know you saved me, but… you tried that hard? You were just…” he trails off, turning his gaze to the black cloak draped around him.

“A child…” Maria murmurs, squeezing Michalis’s hand. “Still… they wouldn’t let anyone treat you… they wanted to leave you for dead. Then, and even now… I don’t understand why. But…! I wanted to save you, I really did! That’s why I tried so hard! Minerva never said it, but I knew it was all up to me to save you. So I tried! I really did! I wanted you to get better, just like now! But now… I don’t know…” Maria breaks off with a sob.

“Maria…” He clenches his shadowed hand, and then Michalis looks up at Maria, a determined look in his eyes.

“I’ll go tomorrow. I’ll go with you two, and we can look together. Just us, as siblings. Like before that war…”

“Brother…! Thank you!” Maria wipes her tears from her eyes, and pulls Michalis to his feet, taking his other hand. The moonlight pours through the window at the moment, and in a grand moment of light and dark, Michalis, with a body half afflicted with shadows, is standing under white brightness, and Maria is covered in shadows.

Yet, Michalis doesn’t flinch, and neither does Maria. They embrace, and Minerva slips from the room then, feeling the silence around her drag on as she exits the room.

When she leaves, she takes the candle with her. As she relights the candlestick, the red of her cloak and hair is reflected against the bright white moonlight and the dark patchy shadows of the church walls, like Maria and Michalis themselves.

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