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sholangagaga · 3 years ago

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Glamstar AU: Chapter 18

Hoh! This one is a two parter purely because I had A LOT i wanted to tell for this chapter and not enough spacing to separate it into multiple mini chapters, you know?

So instead of making this one 4 chapters long and over stepping the 24 chapter marker, why not condense it into 2 decently long chapters? Go me!

As always, enjoy the chapter!

Chapter 18: The Longest Night, Part 1

It was currently 3:30am.

Vanny had been removed from the premises, sent back to town in handcuffs to be properly charged and arrested. The coroner had packed up Wilson’s body and shipped it off to the morgue.

Once again, everything was silent.

Almost all of the human staff had long since been sent home, though they were mostly delivery men or other third party employees on temporary payroll. Aside from Jin, Jaime, and Gregory, the only other humans left were the police.

Word of Wilson’s death and betrayal spread throughout the Pizzaplex, which unsettled most of the synthetics. The one who felt the worst, however, was HRMN.1.

“He modified me,” she gasped, hugging herself. “If he was evil the entire time, what did he do to me?”

With Wilson dead, there was no way to ask him. But there was no guarantee he even would have truthfully responded if asked. The truth of the matter was, Wilson was the person who had been tasked with working on HRMN.1. There was really no telling what he could’ve done to her hardware when left alone.

“Let me take a look at it.” Jin said, uncrossing her arms. Everyone turned to look at her, confused at the declaration. She narrowed her eyes, returning the gaze. “. . .What?”

“What are you going to do?” HRMN.1 lowered her hands. “Wilson isn’t around anymore, how are you going to fix what he did?”

“While it’s true we don’t know what he changed, we can just use deductive reasoning and figure it out.” When no one seemed to understand what she was referring to, she began to get frustrated. “The logs! Geez!”

“She’s right,” Foxy agreed, tapping his chin with his finger. “Even if Wilson was some criminal mastermind, he still had an appearance to keep. Every technician who comes through these doors and tinkers with a bot has to keep a log. It’s how Fazzy and them keep track of costs and upgrades.”

“Which means that he would have to have kept a list of everything he changed from the original blueprints.” Roxanne completed his thought, averting her gaze when the paternal fox looked at her with pride. “I hate to admit it, but Wilson was no idiot. He wouldn’t have written anything down that would have incriminated him in the long run.”

“So then we are back to square one.” Freddy uttered, his shoulders drooping a tad.

“Not quite.” Jin began, grinning. “By omitting whatever he did, that means that anything we find that isn’t on the logs is something that’s not supposed to be there. That’ll be how we see what he tampered with.”

There seemed to be mutual agreement among the group, quiet muttering and conversation ringing out between individuals. It was only after a few minutes that a voice rang out.

“Okay,” HRMN.1 whispered. Upon realizing that she wasn’t speaking loud enough, she cleared her throat and tried again. “Okay.”

The others turned to face her.

She looked up, her expression resolute. “Let’s do it.”

–

In the service tube, HRMN.1 laid across the gurney. Her hands were folded over her abdomen, and she simply stared up at the ceiling. Beside her, Gregory sat silently.

“Do you think it’ll hurt?”

Gregory blinked, looking over at the synthetic. “What?”

“Do you think it’ll hurt? When Jin fixes whatever’s wrong with me?”

“Can you. . .feel pain, Momo?”

She didn’t answer right away, nor did she make eye contact. The synthetic twiddled her fingers, pursing her lips before she spoke up again. “I’m just thinking aloud. I just wonder what things will be like once this is over. Maybe I’m just. . .overthinking.”

Gregory reached out and gently held her hand. Finally, she looked at him. He could see the emotions behind her eyes. Her fear, her uncertainty, her distrust of herself.

“Momo, no matter what happens, you’re always going to be you.”

HRMN.1 laughed dryly, biting back tears. “That’s the problem,” she squeezed his hand gently, as if trying to hold onto something. “I don’t know who I am anymore.”

Gregory didn’t know what to say. He knew he should’ve said something, but no words came to mind. All he could do was hold onto her hand. Maybe hoping that was enough to get the message across. They sat like that, in comfortable silence, until Jin walked into the cylinder.

“Alright, Greg. It’s time for us girls to have a little talk. Go wait outside with Freddy and the others, okay?”

HRMN.1 nodded her head, looking from Jin and back to Gregory. It took her a second before she finally let go of the boy’s hand. He slid off of the metal stool he was sitting on and walked out of the cylinder.

“Don’t worry.”

Gregory looked up to Jin, blinking slowly. The woman simply smiled at him reassuringly.

“I’ll take good care of her.”

“I know you will.” he returned the smile, leaving the cylinder.

–

“Gregory!”

“Hmn?”

Gregory looked up from his Faz-watch at the sound of someone calling his voice. It was Sun, who was currently engaged in a game of Cat’s Cradle with Jaime. Across from them sat Foxy, who was fast asleep with his arms crossed and a bottle loosely held in one hand. Gregory knew he was asleep because the synthetic was snoring. Were the synthetics even genuinely capable of sleep? Or was Foxy just pretending? Either way, Gregory was almost impressed.

“Don’t you want to watch us play? Jaime’s become quite good at this game, and she only just learned today!” The synthetic rhymed, wiggling excitedly in his chair.

Jaime was busy looping the string around Sun’s fingers, carefully forming the next shape. “It’s pretty easy once you get the hang of it, but I have no idea what the end goal is.”

“Why, you keep playing and playing! The game goes on forever until you can no longer make shapes!”

Foxy’s snoring increased in volume for a second or two, before tapering back down.

“I agree with Foxy, I’ll pass.” Gregory joked, looking back down at his wrist. He tapped the screen on his Faz-Watch, cycling through the cameras. He had no idea what he was really looking for. His thoughts kept cycling back to HRMN.1 and her maintenance. What would Jin find? Would Momo be okay after the fact? The more he thought about it, the worse he felt. He was regretting not saying anything to her before. She needed comfort. She was terrified, doubting herself and going into an invasive procedure that might change her, for better or worse. And all he could do was hold her hand and stare at her like. . .like an emotionless robot. Oh, the irony.

“What’s the matter with you, huh?!”

Gregory jumped, slapping a hand over his Faz-Watch as if he were doing something worth hiding. He swore under his breath, scanning the room for the owner of the voice from before. Only to see Roxanne looking none-to-pleased with Foxy.

She snatched the bottle from his hands as he groggily sat up. “There’re kids around, you damn fool! Where’d you get this from, huh?!”

“Mmwhuh?”

“Don’t ‘mmwhuh’ me!” the she-wolf snarled, holding the bottle by its neck as if she were planning to use it as a weapon. Roxanne was currently wearing a casual outfit, a white t-shirt and gray sweatpants. Her face was clear of any paint or makeup, and her hair was tied and pinned up in a large bun atop her head. Gregory rarely got to see this side of her, even after all of the nights he spent at the Pizzaplex. The wolf was very careful to “keep her sleepsona hidden away” as she liked to call it, so the fact she was out here in front of everyone like this meant she was royally pissed off. Foxy, however, didn’t seem the least bit concerned.

“Soz Anny. Keep your fur in line, I was just takin’ a quick kip.”

“With a bottle of liquor in your hand??”

“ Tis all hunky-dory out here, the kiddies ain’t even notice!”

Roxanne raised the bottle over her head, preparing to swing. Luckily for Foxy, Monty swooped in and grabbed her wrist and in turn took the bottle away before she could cause any bodily harm with it.

“Easy there, Rox! She just needs her beauty sleep. If you’ll excuse us, ladies, gents.” Monty tipped an imaginary hat towards Foxy, Sun, and the children, lifting an irate Roxy up under his arm and walking off towards their green rooms.

“What a right idea that is.” Foxy yawned, stretching himself out. “I should go hit the pods too. Been running nonstop all day and well into the wee hours of the morn.”

“Okay, enjoy your rest, Foxy!” Sun beamed, unraveling the now tangled string from his fingers. With the crowd thinning out, it was now just the one synthetic, Jaime, and Gregory.

“I guess the others went to recharge too, huh?” Jaime asked, helping Sun with the string predicament.

“Mhm! Chica and Bonnie turned in after their maintenance was done. Direct order from Jin and the technicians! HRMN.1 is currently undergoing her own maintenance as you both know, and well, you already witnessed Monty, Roxanne, and Foxy turning in for the night.”

“What about Freddy?” Gregory observed, looking around. Freddy was nowhere to be seen as well. Had he turned in without saying anything?

“Hmm. I believe he’s currently speaking with the lead detective. I haven’t seen either of them since the rest of you came up here to the main area.”

The three fell into a comfortable silence, the only sound between them being the soft shuffle of the yarn against itself as Jaime and Sun continued their game of Cat’s Cradle and the faint sound of the staff bots and wandering officers.

Gregory yawned, leaning his head against the table in front of him. He felt exhausted, and rightfully so. This day has been nothing but back to back excitement for him. And now, it was peaceful. Quiet. He almost felt comfortable drifting off to sleep. His eyelids grew heavier and heavier until they shut completely. He might’ve actually fallen into deep sleep too, if not for Jaime gently shaking him awake.

“Hmm?”

“You shouldn’t sleep out here, you could catch a cold!” Sun instructed, dancing around the two children in his usual manner. Energetic despite the time and the circumstances, it seems. Jaime ignored the synthetic, extending her hand out to Gregory.

“If you’re tired, we can go to Freddy’s green room. I don’t really want to stay out here either.”

“Turning in for the day as we― Hey!”

Gregory tried in vain to rub the sleep out of his eyes. He just felt so tired, it was getting more and more difficult to keep his eyes open. Unable to fight it anymore, he huffed softly and took hold of Jaime’s hand. “Okay, I want to sleep.”

“I can see that.”

“I really, really want to sleep.”

Jaime smiled, pulling him up and off the chair. “I think after everything you’ve been through today, you deserve to sleep.”

–

Freddy’s green room was the same as it always was. The main lights were off, so the only shine being cast within the room was the one from the neon bulbs decorating the walls. Gregory had gotten used to sleeping with the lights on, in fact, the dull hum of the neon lighting was enough to drag him to sleep some nights.

Jaime laid against one of the couches, hugging an oversized Freddy plush. “It’s so. . .bright in here. How do you manage to fall asleep?”

“It’s not too bad when you get used to it.” Gregory yawned, laying down on the opposite couch. He pulled the blankets up to his chin, letting himself comfortably sink into the soft cushions. “If it bothers you, Sun can probably let you sleep in the daycare.”

“Surrounded by all of those kiddie toys and baby-barf stained blankets? No thanks.” Jaime remarked with disgust, pulling a laugh from Gregory.

“They wash the blankets!”

“Every day?”

“Every day. . .when they remember.”

Both erupted into a fit of laughter over that, accidentally knocking over stray plushies and pillows.

“You know,” Jaime began, wiping a tear of joy from her eye. “I had a lot of fun today. More fun than I’ve ever had! Well, before the whole Wilson thing.”

“I’m glad.” Gregory replied, still feeling the call of exhaustion but wasn’t too tired to carry a conversation. “It was your field trip. You deserved to have fun.”

The blonde tightened her grip on the Freddy plush, lidding her eyes. She seemed to be debating something, like there was something burning on her mind but she didn’t know how to talk about it. Before Gregory could ask, however, she spoke up again.

“How can you still be so. . .okay? With everything that happened? Why are you still so nice to me?”

Gregory looked at her like she had grown another head. “You’re my friend, why wouldn’t I be nice to you?”

Friend, friend, friend. He had said that all day today, hadn’t he? Calling people his friends, and then seeing people he thought were his friends betray him. He shouldn’t let himself be so outwardly trusting, but at the same time, Gregory wasn’t someone who bit his tongue when it came to the things on his mind. Jaime knew that. But she still couldn’t stop herself from second-guessing.

“I’ve never had a real friend before. Not since my dad died.”

“I’ve never had a real friend ever. And I don’t even remember my real parents.” Gregory shrugged, causing Jaime to wince. Sometimes she forgot that he was an orphan before Fazbear Entertainment found him.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to―”

“It’s okay. I told you, I don’t even remember them. Besides, I have Freddy and Bonnie now. They’re like my parents, and they’re better parents to me than my real ones ever were.”

Jaime recalled their prior conversation after the endoskeleton rescued them. It almost made her laugh. “I guess we really do have that in common,” she shook her head. “Our parents are robots.”

“Well, mostly. Jin’s a human.”

“Or so we think.”

Another round of laughter rang out before tapering off into yawns. That’s right, they had initially come to the green room to sleep. Gregory was enjoying himself so much, he’d almost forgotten how tired he was.

He yawned again, no longer able to fight the sandman’s grasp. “Mmf. G’night, Jaime.”

“Good night, Gregory.” came the other’s soft reply.

With nothing but the sound of the neon lights humming softly, the two children finally drifted off to sleep.

–

“What do you think?”

Joyner and Freddy stood side-by-side in the section of the Pizzaplex’s underground area. The lighting in this area was dim and faded, so the detective held an industrial flashlight in his left hand.

“I think this elevator is not up to code, nor does it follow any plausible safety protocols. I am surprised that this contraption even survived a single trip.”

“Gee, tell me how you really feel.” the detective snickered, shining the flashlight all around the area. Nothing looked out of place, for a dilapidated sinkhole entrance. His light caught the glint of metal in the distance. A staircase of some sort? “Hmm.”

Upon closer inspection, the staircase was haphazardly slapped together. Joyner was surprised he didn’t see any duct tape at the intersecting parts. What a death trap. While he couldn’t really blame them for not trying to keep this place looking pretty, it was still an occupational hazard for the workers.

“Had I known I’d be descending a rickety staircase into a sinkhole at the bottom of a Freddy’s, I would’ve brought some OSHA members with me. Stay close, Fred. And be careful.” He stepped onto the stairs, slowly walking down it. One step, two steps, three. The metal groaned with his weight, and suddenly, there was no weight at all. Joyner didn’t even realize what had happened, the sound of metal scraping against concrete and solid rock was deafening. After a moment, it clicked for him. That noise was the staircase collapsing.

The staircase fell apart with him on it. He was free-falling.

Joyner had shut his eyes, bracing for an impact that never came. After a tense couple of seconds, he noticed he was still suspended, but no longer falling. Actually, it seemed like he was being raised upwards.

“Detective,” Freddy murmured, hoisting the man back up onto the ledge. “Was it not you who had informed me to ‘be careful’? I did not think it needed saying, but perhaps you should also attempt to be careful.”

“Right, sorry.” Joyner grumbled in response, still trying to will his soul back into his body. Why did he feel like he was being scolded by his parents? These synthetics are more realistic than the detective remembered.

The two looked over the edge, listening as the staircase tumbled down before faintly clattering against the ground. It was a steep drop.

Joyner whistled a bit, trying in vain to shine his flashlight down the hole to maybe see the bottom. “One hell of a drop. Think you could manage it, Fred?”

“Even I would not survive a fall from that height, Detective.”

“You know that for a fact, or―?

“I am not going to jump. We will take the elevator.”

“Oh sure, the stairs didn’t work, let’s take the elevator that you yourself said wasn’t up to code.” Joyner complained, circling around to approach the entrance of the elevator. Pressing the button, the doors opened almost immediately. As if the elevator had been waiting for them.

“That’s weird,” Joyner remarked, cautiously stepping inside but not straying too far from Freddy. “The team we sent down here never came back up. Why is the elevator car up here instead of at the bottom?”

If Freddy had an answer, he didn’t say anything about it. Instead, he stood beside the detective and reached forward, tapping the descent button.

“Fred? What’s on your mind?”

“I have a bad feeling, Detective.” Freddy watched as the doors slowly shut, officially closing them within the elevator. “This is not the first time a group of people have disappeared down here. While it is hard to remain optimistic, I do not wish to assume the worst.”

Joyner scoffed, his voice dripping with sarcasm and bitterness. “This is Fazbear Entertainment we’re talking about here, Fred. Your first instinct should be to expect the worst.” He tensed a bit when the elevator shuddered. Otherwise, it seemed to operate just fine.

“Detective.”

“Yeah?”

“Why do you keep calling me ‘Fred’?” Freddy turned to face the man, confusion evident in his expression.

Joyner returned the confused look. “Short for Fredbear. Freddy, Fred. That’s your name, isn’t it? What kind of question is that?” He didn’t understand. He’d heard Foxy offhandedly call him Fred as well and the synthetic seemed just fine with it.

“My name is not Fredbear. I am Freddy. Just Freddy.”

“Oh for crying out loud, what’s the difference?”

Freddy made a face, a cross between hurt and frustration. “There is a big difference. Fredbear is from the family diner of the same name. He is my progenitor. I am Freddy Fazbear.”

“I― Really? Wow. A lot has changed in 40 years.” Joyner chuckled a bit, scratching his chin. “What makes you two so different?”

“I like to think that I am my own person. There will always be another Freddy, but there will never be another Freddy like me. Just as I will never be the same as the ones who came before me.” After his rooftop talk with Momo, he had some time to really think about things. The differences between the Freddys from before, he’d really only heard rumors about it. After all, the past Freddys were all decommissioned and scrapped. He’d never have a chance to meet them even if he wanted to.

Joyner seemed to be staring at Freddy now. The gaze caused the synthetic to become a bit embarrassed.

“Was that a strange thing to say?”

“No, it’s just. . .you’re so human. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were just a normal guy playing a part.” The detective shook his head, looking forward. The elevator was slowing down. They must’ve been close to the bottom. “I wonder if this is what he wanted.”

“Who―”

The elevator shuddered to a stop, causing Joyner to nearly lose his balance. Luckily, Freddy was once again quick to catch him. They silently nodded in affirmation to each other, and the elevator’s doors slowly slid open.

It was dark, and Joyner shined the flashlight ahead of them to maybe get some bearings on their surroundings. There was a generator to the right of the door, the light flashing red. Further ahead was a hallway with hanging lights against the crumbled walls. Joyner approached the generator and flipped the switch. The light turned green and it hummed to life, powering something he couldn’t see.

“I presume you want to move forward?” Freddy was looking around at the scenery. He always knew there was something under the Pizzaplex. But to physically be here and see it with his own eyes? To say he was overwhelmed was certainly an understatement.

“I need to find my people,” Joyner said, resolute. “If they’re here, and they need help, then I need to be there for them. Wouldn’t you do the same if it were your friends?”

“Family,” Freddy corrected, but nodded in agreement. “I understand your sentiment, Detective. I am not here to stop you.”

“No, of course you aren’t.” Joyner shined his flashlight down the hallway, seeing that it seemed to stretch on and on. “Shall we, Freddy?”

“Yes, Detective. Lead the way.”

–

There were two more generators along the path, with Joyner activating each one, before they ran into the endos. They looked to be relatively inactive. Even approaching and touching them did nothing.

“I do not like this.” Freddy remarked, gently running his hand along one of the endoskeleton’s shoulders.

“Did you know them?” Joyner booted up another nearby generator. This was starting to annoy him.

“No. These are older models.” Freddy didn’t take his eyes off of the endoskeleton. While it wasn’t active and probably never was, the synthetic couldn’t help but feel sorry for it. “This is more akin to being a human and seeing skeletons everywhere.”

Joyner shuddered at the thought. He walked forward through the thick fog, seeing the red light of a generator on the opposite end. He flipped the switch and out of his peripherals, he saw something red alight. It was the neon lighting of a bright, festive sign.

“Hey Freddy.”

The synthetic walked through the fog, first focused on the detective before noticing he was staring straight ahead. Following his gaze, he saw the sign for himself.

“Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza Place. You recognize it?”

“This is the location that the Pizzaplex had replaced. I had thought this place was demolished completely.”

“Well, apparently someone lied.” There was a Security bot patrolling the door, and around it were more generators. Great, more generators. “We were informed that there was a sinkhole underneath this place, but no one ever said there was an entire secondary building here.”

Freddy gently grabbed the Security bot and flipped a switch underneath the base of its skull. The bot now stood motionless and out of their way. “Do you think this is where your team disappeared to? They may be just exploring this building.”

“Yeah, let’s hope it’s that simple.” Joyner pushed the double doors open, walking forward into the building. How long has this place been here? Why wasn’t it completely demolished?

Flipping another generator, the pair were face to face with a relatively well-kept pizzeria. Gray and white checkered tiles, retro diner aesthetic in full bloom. The stage was well-lit, with spotlights shining almost blindingly bright. Above them, fluorescent bulbs flickered and sparked.

“This really takes me back.” Joyner sighed wistfully, picking up a rotten paper party hat. The color had long since faded to a water-stain speckled remnant of its past color, presumably blue. Folding chairs, vinyl stools, tables and tableware scattered about and left to rot. “What the hell is going on here?”

“What indeed, Detective.” Freddy tapped the screen of a rusted over arcade cabinet. Whatever design it had faded to something entirely illegible, and the screen displayed nothing but static and white noise. Salvaging these would be nearly impossible, and the motherboards within were probably fried beyond repair. What was this nagging feeling in his chest?

“There’s a way down over here.”

The synthetic walked over to the man, looking at the very obviously new recharge station installed nearby. Were they planning on bringing synthetics down here? A recharge would be nice right about now. He’d been pushing himself so hard today. His battery wasn’t dangerously low, but it wouldn’t be smart for him to continue onward without taking a break. Who knew when he would see another recharge station.

Freddy opened up the door to the station and grabbed one of the plugs. A slight recharge was all he really needed, just enough to get him through the next few hours. He reached for his collar, trying to pull it down to plug the cord into his neck. Admittedly, Freddy had never tried to plug himself in while still dressed in his stage costume, so he was struggling a bit.

“Here, let me help.” Joyner took the plug from the synthetic and pulled aside the costume collar.

“Thank you, Detective. I know this is an inconvenience for you.”

“It’s nothing. You need to charge, even a technologically ignorant old man like me can see something so obvious.” He unlatched the cover for the socket on the base of the synthetic’s neck and popped in the plug. “There we go.”

Freddy turned and sat back against the recharge station, facing the detective. He internally set a timer for when to stop charging, breaking the silence in the meantime. “For someone who is technologically ignorant, you were able to help me very quickly. And without any guidance.”

Joyner pulled a pack of cigarettes from his jacket pocket, tapping the pack against the back of his hand before pulling one out. He held the thing in his mouth, patting around in his other pocket. Understanding what he was searching for, Freddy leant forward and extended his index finger. The fingertip opened to reveal a small metal tube. Joyner raised an eyebrow at the gesture.

“I come equipped with a lighter.”

Now his other eyebrow raised.

“It is for birthday cake candles.”

Joyner decided to leave it at that, accepting the offer and lighting his cigarette. After two deep drags, he spoke up.

“I haven’t been around a synthetic since I was 10. But I know some of their basic anatomy.” the man pointed at his own neck. “Your charging plugs are always on the upper back somewhere. At least back in the 80’s, there was always one at the base of the neck and one between the shoulder blades.”

Freddy nodded, impressed. “One on the base of the neck, and one on either side of the spine, on the trapezius. Three is the minimum in this day and age.”

“You guys do so much, I’m surprised there aren’t more plugs plastered all over your bodies.” Joyner took another drag, exhaling to the side. While he doubted this place still had a working fire system, he’d rather not tempt fate by blowing directly upwards.

Freddy remained quiet, watching him carefully. Studying his face, his expressions, and his gestures. Piecing together information.

“You are related to someone who used to work for the Family Diner.”

Joyner sputtered, nearly dropping the cigarette. “Where in the hell did that come from?”

“You mentioned Fredbear earlier. No one uses that name anymore, not even Fazbear Entertainment. Which must mean you predate me in some regard. You also intimately know of our anatomy. One of your relatives must have been a technician of some sort.”

“Geez.” the man scratched the back of his head, almost flustered at the observations. “You caught all of that just from our little adventure together?”

“Does that mean I am correct?”

Joyner snuffed out the cigarette against one of the checkered tiles on the floor, leaving the butt there much to the chagrin of Freddy. “Yeah, you’re correct. My dad used to work on synthetics. It was pretty much his life’s work.”

“Was?”

“Humans don’t live forever, Freddy.” Joyner sobered, leaning back a tad. “My dad died 6 years ago. A fire, from what I was told.”

“I. . .am sorry.”

“Don’t be. We weren’t close. He buried himself in his work when I was 4, neglected his family. My mom couldn’t stand to look at him anymore, so they split up and I moved away with her. More than 25 years later, I never even get as much as a postcard from him. Just to get a letter in the mail telling me my dad is dead and I inherited his old company. I thought he sold it years ago, but apparently one of the conditions of the contract was that in the case of his death, I’d retain true ownership.

“It’s funny. All those years I spent running from that life, only to get dragged back into it in the span of a week. I was planning on officially renouncing my name on the title.”

“But?” Freddy inquired, captivated by the story.

“Something kept telling me not to. It just. . .felt wrong. I’ve been sitting on the ownership papers ever since. The current owner is a good sport, he was one of my dad’s friends before things went south. I hate to keep leaving him without an answer, though.”

“What is the name of the company?”

Joyner laughed sarcastically, running a hand down his face. Here he was, opening up to a teddy bear man. Maybe he had officially lost his mind. I’d be my father’s son for sure if that were the case, he thought.

Noticing that Freddy was still waiting for an answer and also didn’t seem to find the conversation as funny as he did, he grumbled a bit as his laughter died down.

“You know the name well enough, Freddy.”

The synthetic seemed even more confused, but the slight widening of his eyes clued the detective in that he was slowly putting the pieces together.

“Anyways,” Joyner continued, not bothering to wait for Freddy to figure it out. “Joyner is my mother’s maiden name. After she divorced my dad, she changed our last name. Like I said, we weren’t close, so I wasn’t too upset about it.

“My name, my birth name, is Samson. Samson Emily. But my friends and family just call me Sammy.”

“You are the son of Henry Emily.” Freddy shook his head, expression unreadable. Shocked, Joyner deduced. He wasn’t wrong, but Freddy wasn’t shocked for the reasons he originally expected. It was the revelations uncovered after this reveal that truly threw the synthetic through a loop.

“She would be elated to see you. Surely she will remember you now that her memory is returning.”

“She who?” Now it was Joyner’s turn to ask questions. “Who will remember me?” The way Freddy looked at him almost made Joyner hesitate. Why was it that the very anticipation of his response was causing him distress? What harm could there be in a name?

“I am referring to Charlie, of course.”

–

“C’mon Sammy! We’re gonna be late for the party!”

“I’m coming! I gotta put my shoes on!”

1983. A friend was having a birthday party at Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza. Which felt like a silly thing to say. Everyone had their birthday party at Freddy’s! Sammy couldn’t think of a single person he knew who didn’t want to have every party at the best pizzeria in town.

No matter how many parties she goes to, Charlie always acted like each one was her first. She was annoyingly excitable like that. Sammy never really understood it. Oh sure, he thought the robots his dad and uncle Will made were cool, but they were just robots! How much fun can you have hearing a robot sing the same song and dance over and over again?

Once his shoes were strapped up, Sammy joined his twin at the door. Their dad was probably waiting outside for them.

“Okay, ready.”

“Where’s your bracelet??” Charlie squeaked, pointing towards Sammy’s bare wrist.

“Huh? Oh, it’s in my pocket.”

“You have to wear it! Otherwise the Puppet won’t be able to keep track of you!”

“I don’t care about that stupid Puppet!” Sammy yelled, causing Charlie to wince. “It’s ugly, and scary! It stares at me and I hate it!”

Charlie lowered her hand, a look of hurt on her face. The Puppet was one of her favorites. “How could you say that?”

“Charlie, I just don’t understand you. Why are you so obsessed with those robots? They can’t feel or show emotions! They’re so creepy! I bet you don’t even care about Mamie’s birthday party. You just want to go and listen to Fredbear and his stupid creepy friends!”

The girl recoiled as if she’d be struck. Tears welled up in her eyes. Charlie was always such a crybaby.

Sammy pushed her aside and left out the front door, slipping into the backseat of the family car. He stared out the window, his own eyes burning with tears. He felt the seat shift next to him and the car door shut. Charlie had come into the car as well, but said nothing.

“Are you two okay back there?” Henry called from the front seat, and was then met with soft replies of ‘We’re fine’. While he could tell something was wrong, he knew that pestering them wouldn’t yield any real results. Plus, they were going to be late.

Whatever this was, they can solve it later.

“Give it up for the birthday girl!” Announced Freddy, this one with brown hair, freckles, and an outfit resembling a waiter. At his side stood Bonnie and Chica, who were holding a present and a birthday cake, respectively.

Sammy furrowed his brow. Charlie still hadn’t forgiven him for what he said earlier. She was so mad, in fact, she sat at the farthest possible table away from him. He didn’t think it was worth getting that angry about.

“Sammy!”

The boy jumped, looking up. It was Chica, smiling down at him with her usually cheerful expression. She set a slice of cake down in front of him before looking around. “Where’s Charlie?”

“She’s at table 3.” he grumbled bitterly, picking up a plastic fork and poked the cake with it. Chocolate with rainbow frosting. Mamie loved rainbows.

“Why aren’t you two together?”

Sammy turned away from the synthetic. He didn’t want to talk about it with some robot who couldn’t understand. Chica blinked a couple times and left the boy alone. She took the hint immediately, much to his surprise.

When Sammy turned back to look at Charlie again, he noticed that she was walking away with a group of other children he didn’t recognize. Was she so mad that she didn’t even want to be in the same room as him?

He stabbed the cake with his fork, shoveling the treat into his mouth as if trying to bury his feelings with it. This time, he couldn’t stop the tears from streaking down his cheeks.

–

Sammy wandered around the pizzeria, looking for his sister. He was tired of this, of fighting. If he apologized, Charlie would forgive him. She was his sister, and he didn’t want her to hate him. He’d even say he thought the Puppet was cute if it made her happy.

“Charlie? Charlieeee!”

He asked other kids. He checked the bathrooms. He even checked in the Parts and Service room, despite how it creeped him out. Nothing. Charlie was nowhere to be seen. Did she leave without him?

Sammy rounded the corner and bumped into a group of children. They were wearing security bracelets; pink and orange. He recognized they were the same children who were with Charlie earlier.

He started to open his mouth to ask, and the tallest child shoved him to the ground.

“Stupid baby, watch where you’re going!”

“Hey,” the girl with the pink bracelet said, looking over her shoulder. “Doesn’t he look like that girl with the green bracelet?”

“That’s my sister!” Sammy hopped back onto his feet. “Where is she?”

The tall child shoved Sammy again before pointing in the direction the girl had looked. “She wouldn’t shut up, so we locked her out to teach her a lesson. That ugly puppet thing went outside to get her though.”

Sammy sprang up again and sprinted past the other kids. Charlie and the Puppet must’ve still been locked outside. Those awful bullies. Even as he ran towards the door, he could hear the laughter of those nasty kids.

It took all of his strength to push the heavy backdoor open. He didn’t want it to lock again, so he stuck a folding chair between the door and the frame. The first thing he noticed was that it was raining hard. The Puppet was out here? Dad had told him and Charlie that the Puppet can’t get wet, otherwise it’ll shut down. He felt himself growing worried.

“Charlie?” Sammy hugged himself, getting thoroughly soaked the farther he walked. “Charlie, please. It’s raining, and I’m cold.

“I’m sorry for making you mad. Please, let’s go back inside. Let’s have some. . .pizza―?”

There, curled up among the garbage, was Charlie and the Puppet. The synthetic was curled around her, as if trying to shield her. But its eyes were dim.

“Charlie?” Sammy fell to his knees, reaching out to his sister. She was just sleeping, sleeping out here in the pouring rain. “Charlie, this i―”

She was cold.

Sammy grabbed her by her shoulders, shaking her repeatedly. “Charlie! This isn’t funny anymore! Wake up!”

But Charlie wouldn’t respond.

He scooted back, and noticed his hands were sticky. Rain is sticky? Sammy looked down and all he saw was red. Thick, red liquid was smeared on his hands and the more he looked, the more he noticed he was practically covered in it.

Covered in blood.

Sammy screamed. He screamed, and screamed. Until his little throat was sore and his voice was hoarse. Until someone ran out of the backdoor and grabbed him.

“Sammy, what’s the matter?”

The boy numbly stared up at the person who was now holding him in his arms. In the dimly lit alley, covered in rain, he couldn’t really tell who he was looking at.

“Sammy, are you hurt? Please, answer me.” The person leaned closer to him and finally the boy could recognize who he was looking at.

“F. . .re. . .d?”

Freddy frowned, his expression twisted with worry. Synthetics were capable of worry?

“Are you okay?” The synthetic asked, the worry evident even in his voice.

Sammy felt so out of it. He was tired and lightheaded from screaming so much. He slowly shut his eyes and felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Are you okay?”

Detective Joyner startled, nearly tumbling over the jersey barriers behind him. The hand on his shoulder was Freddy’s. Glamrock Freddy. The man looked around, realizing he was still in the underground pizzeria. Did he doze off?

“What happened?”

“You fainted, Detective. It was my fault for springing such shocking information on you unprepared.”

That’s right. Charlie.

Joyner felt his brain begin to pulsate with a vicious headache. He must’ve smacked his head when he fainted.

“Freddy, I’m confused. How can Charlie be here? She died, back in ‘83. I saw her body, for chrissake!”

“I do not know the extent, but this Charlie was built by your father. She told me that Henry built her to replace the other Charlie.”

Joyner stared at the synthetic with a stony expression, his mouth a thin line. “He. . .really did that?”

“You do not seem surprised.”

“I always knew he was working on something. When Charlie died, he took it the worst. He buried himself away in the basement, slaving over some new project. It was borderline obsessive. It terrified my mom, so we packed up and moved away.

“After my dad died, I went back to the family house since it was still listed as being owned by him. To settle the deed, you know.”

“Instead of a house, you found rubble.” Freddy finished, recalling that detail from Momo’s recollection.

Joyner nodded solemnly. “No one cleared it out. They just. . .put out the fire. Put a big bubble over whatever was left of the building and just left it to rot. Not even vandals wanted to touch the place.

“I went into the basement and saw everything. The destroyed pods, the schematics. The robotic images of my sister burned and mangled. I figured my old man went crazy and destroyed the house to hide what he did. Didn’t make it any less creepy.”

“HRMN.1 is one of the ones who survived the fire.”

“Who?”

“That is Charlie’s name now. HRMN.1. She is currently undergoing maintenance in Parts and Service.”

“Freddy, I have no idea how I’m supposed to respond to that.”

“Then let us discuss it another time.” Freddy unplugged himself from the charging station, moving into a standing position. “We must return to the others for now.”

“What? Why?” Joyner stood as well. “We made it all the way here! We can’t just go back!”

“We have potentially found where your men disappeared to. That was the point of this trek, was it not?”

The detective pursed his lips.

“We need help. And no one knows we are down here. It would be wise to return to the surface.”

Joyner looked over the jersey barriers and down at the descending spiral of platforms. As much as he hated to admit it, going any deeper would be a mistake. They had found a way down, that was good enough for the time being. Additionally, the man was curious about HRMN.1. Whatever was at the bottom of that hole can wait an hour more.

“Alright,” Joyner said finally. “Let’s head back up.”

[Previous] | [Next]

AO3 Link

#fnaf security breach #security breach #glamstar au #glamstar fam au #fnaf #archive of our own

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adultswim2021 · 2 years ago

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Harvey Birdman, Attorney at Law #35: “Babysitter” | October 16, 2006 – 12:15AM | S04E03

The episode in which Phil Ken Sebben gets fucking ICED. In the last episode, he even makes a joke about him dying and then punctuates it with “foreshadowing!”. I don't think I noted it but I probably should have. This is where that whole thing pays off. This episode starts off with Phil getting run over by a truck. We see his body at the morgue, and then we see him cremated and turned into ashes. The dark running joke is that his daughter, aka Birdgirl, can't seem to find him or get straight answers as to what became of her father.

The entire thing seems to be motivated by the fact that Stephen Colbert himself was doing his own nightly Daily Show spin-off called The Colbert Report. In the show itself, Sebben makes references to the fact that he's moving on to open his own law firm, and keeps accidentally referring to his life-change as a show, as though he's crassly explaining to the audience that Phil is getting a spin-off and will only be making guest appearances on Birdman. Then he dies. Best laid plans, etc. So him moving is a stand-in for him having a Birdman spin-off which is a stand-in for the actor having a Daily Show spin-off. It’s layers upon... lawyers?! haha! Wordplay.

But what of Reducto? He is Peanuts babysitter, arranged by Birdman who is at his 10 year high school reunion, where Birdman dances with a former girlfriend who is UGLY!!!! SHE IS AN UGLY WOMAN!!! She has a funny line after a lingering silence falls over them while they glumly slow-dance: “what would you do if I died?”. Anyway, Reducto also gets run down by a car for good measure at the end of the episode, but it's a suitably smaller clown car. Still no closure on whatever became of that gay-voiced guy who asks about taffeta in the Apache Chief episode.

The most notable plot-line is that Peter Potamus takes over the firm, despite Phil making it somewhat clear that Birdman is to take over. But since Birdman is away, Peter will play!!! He has his friend David Koechner (playing himself) help him transform the firm into a money-making machine to fuel their hedonistic lifestyles. Birdman eventually turns up and sets everything right; taking over the firm and telling Birdgirl that her father has died (I cheered!). Is this episode good? Well, it’s Birdman. Take that however you want.

MAIL BAG

hey man i just really like your aqua teen and sealab write-ups and i never see you talk about those shows anymore! instead i log into my tumblr and it's always this squid show and i don't know what to do. ever think about writing some more about those other shows? i think you'd do a good job

Hey thanks man, I’m sorry I was brusque, it is my natural style. I encourage you to read the rules of our message board which is that I am actually reviewing Adult Swim programs and individual episodes in chronological order. I am like a slave and Adult Swim is my master, a feeling I think we can all relate to. So I will be talking about Aqua Teenager Hunger Force at the pace in which our masters allow. SLOWLY. ‘Kay pal?

this is the seinfeld twitter guy again, by the way. i forgot to say so before

I still don’t know what this is. Seinfeld never aired on Adult Swim. They do occasionally air tweets during their bumpers, though. Anyway, I hope this helped.

#adult swim #adultswim2021 #harvey birdman attorney at law

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lucycola · 4 years ago

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The Lone Survivor: Part 5

TOS!Spock x Fem!Reader

Spock saves the reader from an icy starship crash, only to accidentally form a bond with them in the process. They are called to investigate a happening in the morgue, seemingly to face the unseen enemy that caused the crash in the first place.

PART(S) ONE TWO THREE FOUR

WARNINGS: Blood, violence, death, corpses, language, and sexual implications. The body eating gets vivid so if you can’t ride, please don’t.

I’m so so so so sorry this took so long to come out. I’m not good at actions scenes so I did my best! Part 6 will be out soon. If I missed you on the tagged list I’m so sorry!

Part 5: Isn’t is lovely? All alone. My heart made of glass, my mind of stone.

Captain Kirk and Doctor McCoy tried to shield you from the carnage, but you broke through their human shield to see Commander Craft surveying the morgue with a grim expression.

Only a portion of the crew were brought aboard-the rest were still being recovered by multiple teams below. Along with Craft came other starships to help with the recovery. The tundra below was harsh and made recovery an even more difficult process. Bodies that were still intact were brought aboard the Enterprise to be identified. The others well were left in makeshift morgues below waiting to be put together with their other pieces.

What you hadn’t known before yesterday was that some of your crew had been devoured.

More had been devoured now. Bodies were littered about the morgue, torn from their bags. Some were only half eaten at the limbs and thighs. Heads and torsos were still left in contact where it was less meat and more viscera and soupy organs. The poor morgue workers were left alone.

“Blunt force trauma,” McCoy noted into his recorder. “Why didn’t it eat them?”

“It appears...it only ate the Calvary crew. The ones that had been on ice,” Kirk murmured, fist pressing into his teeth.

“It likes its food served cold,” you said, absent mindedly.

“Fascinating,” Spock said.

You glanced over the logs last input by the crewman, “He listed finding my father. Right here! Doctor L/N. My father’s dead. It must have kept his form.”

“Which must be why the creature could not be detected on our scanners. It perfectly mimicked the dead,” Spock said, bouncing ideas off of you, “It may be possible to feign the absence of a pulse or temperature-or perhaps it can alter its physical state enough to where it appears to be a lack of both.”

“Why did it take so long to recognize Doctor L/N, then? The man’s been dead for years.”

“The bodies were beamed up in droves, Jim,” Bones answered, “Then picked through. After were found the Calvary’s lone survivor we stopped bringing up one by one.”

“How...” Commander Craft said slowly, through ground teeth, “Could you be the only one?”

“I don’t know,” you answered.

“Four hundred men dead and you...still alive having wrecked in an escape pod,” the commander snarled, seemingly refusing to even look at you. He still surveyed the frozen dead.

“What?” you asked in disbelief, “I was in an escape pod?”

“Don’t play cute with me,” he jerked to look at you finally, eyes blazing, “You launched the pod right before the ship went down. My crew scouted out the area you were recovered from. Only a single pod launched with only you in it. Or did your husband not tell you that’s where he found you?”

“Spock, is this true?” Kirk asked.

“It seems I may have accidentally omitted such a finding...as I was not aware of it.”

“You’re a Vulcan-you don’t miss things,” Craft spat.

“One forgets my human half-although I have never found myself so personal with you, Commander, to share such a fact.”

Craft looked to you and back to Spock and then back to you again.

“You were both with one another the whole evening?” Commander Craft asked.

“I had two guards posted out side their quarters,” Kirk said, his temper flaring, “I doubt she’s in cahoots with the damn thing. Spock looked into her mind and it seems she’s nothing but a scapegoat for a monster to get its next meal! Now you can stop targeting my officers and start cooperating.”

You reached for Kirk’s arm desperately, “Captain, I didn’t put myself in that pod. Captain, I didn’t do this-you’ve got to believe me still.”

“It doesn’t matter what I believe. What see is your crew in bits and pieces down here and that thing is going to do the same to my men,” Kirk said, patience wheedling thin. “Bridge, this is the captain. Issue a red alert. Lockdown all decks.”

“But captain,” a woman’s voice replied, “You just issued a command stating that the ship take a landing and to disregard any other orders.”

“Lieutenant, where was I when I gave such orders?”

“On deck three.”

The red alert beacon seemed like it would never fade into the background but it was eventually drowned out by the sound of blood rushing in your ears. Kirk had ordered you all to stay together after a trip to the armory and that you were all going to the third deck, whether the commander liked it or not.

The assent to the third deck was painful as the commander and Kirk had it out with one another. The lift felt extremely cramped, but the tension in the air made it worse.

Splitting up the party had perhaps been briefly suggested by your husband to cover more ground, to which the commander argued, “Don’t let Spock take her anywhere. I don’t trust those two!”

“No ones going anywhere unless it’s with me,” Kirk retorted, “Set your phasers to stun. We don’t know who the real crewmen will be apart from this thing. We don’t want to kill anyone else.”

“Then how to do we know you’re not the imposter then? How do we know the real you isn’t already on the third deck or even the bridge by now?” the commander asked, nearly spitting.

“I wouldn’t have asked to land. I’m getting really tired of you,” Kirk said.

The doors to the lift finally opened, showing and eerily empty third deck washed in the red light.

“Daddy?”

A small voice, a woman’s voice in fact so far away you could barely hear it.

The doctor stepped passed you eyes bugging out of his skull, “Didja hear that?” He whirled back around to you, “Did ya’ll hear that?”

“Indeed, doctor,” Spock replied, “It seemed to be coming from that corridor.”

“Daddy!” came the woman’s voice again, now sobbing and strangled.

“Joanna?” the doctor asked, immediately breaking away with full stride.

You seized him around the waist, trying to prevent him from going, “Wait-doctor-!”

“Simon!” came a wavering moan from the adjacent hall.

Commander Craft was less vocal than Bones and bolted immediately with a tailing Kirk who was then seized up by Spock, “Captain, don’t-”

“Daddy!” Joanna’s wail was blood curdling and McCoy broke free from your hold like a frenzied horse. You bolted after him immediately.

“T’hy’la!” Spock began to which in the confusion Kirk said, “Go after them-I’ll get Craft!”

Could it possible the creature could multiply? You hadn’t seen it for yourself, but fear blazoned in your body and drove your legs to pump themselves as far as they could go. You were younger than Bones, but your weak leg gave out. Spock was faster than you anticipated and with thundering footfalls you felt him upon you.

He swept you up quickly, “That was foolish.”

“It’ll kill him, Spock!”

“I do not think it can be many places at once or it would have acted upon the crew sooner.”

“It’s just throwing its voice?”

“Possibly.”

He was moving at a light sprint, cradling you up like a baby.

“If it likes its food cold it will go for the bridge. It’ll wreck the ship to the snow below,” you breathed, clutching onto Spock’s uniform.

“I suspect the same thing-” his running faltered a bit, “-it will pursue the captain in attempt to control the ship.”

“Fuck.”

“Jim!”

“Sam?”

Long ago had Kirk lost sight of Craft, now lurking beyond every corner. It seemed the third deck was empty and he found out quickly why it was so quiet, save the bells. He came upon the mangled bodies of his crew, not eaten, but twisted like rag dolls in their heaps.

Now it was mimicking his brother. The bastard of a thing-whatever it was.

“Jim, help!”

“I’m coming, Sam!” Kirk called, moving carefully down the hall, phaser in hand. It was leading to him to his own cabin. He knew his brother was dead, but it was almost like he couldn’t stop himself. It was a painful desperation and it burned like fire in his chest.

He opened the door and stepped inside. His room was the same as it had always been. Bed in one area, dress and mirror in the other. His antique weapon collection of old era muskets, sabers, and spears freckled his walls but were hard to be seen as the lights were oddly set dim.

“Captain!” a distressed voice cried from the corner. A female voice.

“Y/N?” Kirk asked, moving closer, “Kitty, is that you?”

The person moved from the corner and into the light and indeed to the captain it appeared to be you. But how? Kirk questioned.

Your face was beaten and your body was bloodied. Your dress which once was white was almost completely dyed scarlet and it was ripped all the way down, revealing your right shoulder and breasts.

Kirk snatched the blanket off the bed and brought it to cover you. “How did you get here so fast? Did it do this to you?”

“It ran as soon as it heard you. It was a man. He looked just like you. I thought it was you,” you cried.

He skimmed the tears off your face with his thumb, “There, there. I’m here now.”

“You’ve got to help me. Spock tricked me, Jim,” you said, moving closer. “I need you.”

The third deck was so confusing you (the real you) thought you and Spock would get lost but you honed in on the doctor’s desperate cries of “Joanna!” like breadcrumbs.

You both came to a dead end to see the doctor there, bumbling at the wall, clearly confused.

“Doctor!” you cried in relief.

“I heard Jo one second and the next-I’m at a loss!” he attempted to explain, scratching the back of his head.

The doctor stared at the bare wall as if his daughter was apart of its making. She was there in his ears and the next she wasn’t.

“She was never there,” you sighed, still cradled in Spock’s clutch.

“It was a trick, Doctor,” Spock concurred.

“Lemme down,” you reached for Bones almost desperately.

You felt like you had to touch him to truly know he was alright. His face looked alright as well as the rest of his body, but his eyes were still large with bewilderment and grief. Joanna had not been there, but she had sounded so real and seemed to be in so much pain as the ghost of your own father had been.

“Doctor, are you well enough to care for my wife? It seems she has reinjured her leg to some extent,” Spock inquired, allowing you to bear weight on your good limb.

Bones reached for you immediately and then asked Spock, “Where the hell are you going?”

“I must relocate the captain and Commander Craft for their safety,” Spock explained, already having turned promptly to leave.

He broke out into another sprint, which looked faster than it had while you were being carried. Vulcans were faster, stronger than humans naturally, it seemed.

Bones fussed over you and you shushed him, “It’s just a limp-I’m fine-no, we are not going to sickbay!”

“Where do you suggest we go then? We might as well be sitting ducks.”

“We’re going to catch up with, Spock,” you said in a definite tone.

“In your condition and mine? it’ll take this old man two weeks to get you there,” he said, shaking his head.

“Hey,” you grinned, “It’s not the first time you’ve walked a pretty girl down the aisle.”

Bones face heated up with a large grin.

The door shifted open and Spock was greeted with the sight of his nude wife fondling his captain. Except you were had been left in Bones’ care behind him. Something white hot and broiling ignited in his very being.

You could feel it from down the hall.

He’s mad-why is he so mad? you questioned internally, limping as fast as you could.

Kirk fired his phaser immediately into the creature’s belly, after letting it draw itself close. The mirror version of you somehow enclosed its hand around the firing phaser, crushing it completely.

Kirk shook his hand free, screaming. The creature seized Kirk by the shoulders and flung him effortlessly into the wall. He hit part of his antique weapon collection, spears and swords clattering to the ground with him.

“Captain-!”

“I’m alright.”

The imposter whirled around and grinned like a Cheshire, “Well the infamous Mister Spock! I can read the crew’s thoughts y’know. Plenty of gals seem to like you. But you only like this one, don’t you?”

The imposter ran her hand down her naked form, taunting him.

“Too bad your captain got the upper hand on your wife first. Didn’t even stop himself when given the opportunity.”

“That’s a lie, Spock,” Kirk choked.

Spock shot at the creature, phaser still set the stun. The creature was knocked back only a little, seemingly unfazed. Spock shot multiple times only with the same result.

“I like it rough,” the creature laughed, “Keep on.”

“Why did you place Lieutenant Y/L/N in the escape pod when you could have devoured her?” Spock inquired.

“I seek the weakest link of all that visit my land. I seek their fears, their sorrows and hers was most adequate for my use,” it said, “The other ships that follow after every crash always tend to stay longer when there’s someone to blame. Everyone likes someone to blame.”

“How many other starships have you sabotaged?” Kirk asked, moving slowly about the weapons on the floor.

“Enough to feed me my due.”

Kirk launched one of the old spears at the imposter and it grazed its belly, spurting purple blood.

“Run, Captain!” Spock ordered.

The creature seized the spear and thrust it a Kirk as he ran to the door. Spock was faster and quickly moved in front of Kirk, catching the spear deafly with one hand. The blade was merely inches from his nose. The phaser clattered to the ground.

“Fascinating,” the creature said mockingly and changed it form from you to Spock himself.

Eventually you and Bones were able follow the trail of downed crewman to the captain’s cabin. Upon opening the door you were gifted with the sight of two of your husbands wrestling with one other over some ancient spear.

Where the hell did that thing come from?

Long forgone on the floor was Spock’s phaser and you knelt to grab it.

“Jim!” Bones exclaimed.

Kirk was once again a heap on the floor, already having been assaulted twice by the imposter and saved by Spock. He was bleeding from his right flank.

Bones quickly moved to him, dragging you long with him.

“We’ve got--got to kill it--” Kirk stuttered, staggering upward. You caught him under the arm, supporting him. “The phaser doesn’t seem to work on stun. You have to set it to kill.”

Bones caught the other, “But how can we? Which one is it?”

You shakenly pointed the phaser even though it seemed it had no effect.

“Alright you two!” Kirk yelled, ‘Stop or we’ll be forced to shoot the both of you!”

The wrestling came to a still and the spear was tossed aside, rolling to your feet.

They were identical, completely. Fuck.

“T’hy’la, it is I,” said the one on the left.

“No, that is incorrect,” said the one on the left.

Down to the nose, the hair, the faint hue of green in their cheeks and lips. The familiar warmth pulled you at the back of your mind.

“Kitty, what are you doing?” Kirk began.

You moved forward, with two fingers extended, “Husband, attend.”

The one of the left immediately came forward and you felt the warmth surge closer at is it, enveloping your mind as your fingers touched.

“Fools!”

The one of the right’s entire mouth opened up as if it was a venous fly trap, launching itself at you and Spock. You fired the phaser, blasting a hole on its left side but it still came.

Kirk was faster on the draw, and launched the spear into the creature’s mouth, splattering purple liquid everywhere. Its lifeless body hit the ground with a wet thud.

The spear had ripped through its body and pierced itself into the wall behind it.

“Good shot, captain,” Spock said. “And you as well, wife.”

“Second time’s the charm,” Kirk said, holding his injured side.

You let out a dry sob, mixed in with a laugh. Bones patted your shoulder, letting out a large sigh.

PART SIX

tagged: @groovyfluxie @dontgivedeath @lumar014 @pringtella @moonchildlonan @superninjapervert420 @love-wanderlust15 @ischysiaclark@imyourspacegirlfriend @hiddlestonme @fandoms4ever97 @mywellspringoflife @rebelchild93 @nilalunis16

#tos #startrek #star trek #spock x fem!reader #the lone survivor #spock x reader #schn tgai spock #s'chn t'gai spock #mr spock #tos spock #jim kirk #doctor mccoy #bones #captain kirk

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ask-de-writer · 4 years ago

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SEA DRAGON’S GIFT : Part 62 of 83 : World of Sea

Return to the Master Story Index

Return to World of Sea

SEA DRAGON’S GIFT

Part 62 of 83

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

140406 words

written 2007

Reproduction in any form, physical, electronic or digital is prohibited without the express consent of the author.

//////////////

Users of Tumblr.com are specifically granted the following rights. They may reblog the story provided that all author and copyright information remains intact. They may use the characters or original characters in my settings for fan fiction, fan art works, cosplay, or fan musical compositions.

All sorts of fan art, cosplay, music or fiction is actively encouraged.

///////////////////////

New to the story? Read from the beginning. PART 1 is here

///////////////////////

Mord knocked on the cabin door. The guard opened it at once.

The degree to which he was still trusted by the crew was shown by their choice of guard. It was Bron, the cabin-boy.

“Yes, Sir?”

“Bron, would you please ask Alor, Acting Captain Kotance, a representative of the Master’s Council and Cron to come here?”

Bron was aware that such a group meant something important. He went at once to Alor’s cabin just down the passage. He spoke with her through the door, staying in the hallway so that he could watch the Captain’s cabin door. Mord only waited, as expected.

Alor went to get the witnesses that Mord had asked for, and Bron came back to his guard post by the door. The group assembled quickly, coming one at a time to the Captain’s cabin.

Last to arrive was Alor, who came in the company of Master Juris.

The others waited in nervous silence until Alor began the meeting. As Purser, she was the ship’s legal officer for most things and all official documents except the log were her province.

She began, “Mord, we have assembled as you have requested. What do you contemplate doing that needs witness from all sections of the crew?”

Mord drew a deep breath and knit his brows before replying, “I have to do the hardest duty of my life. I have looked at all of the charges in the documents that you have provided me and reflected on how best to deal with them. They are all true. I cannot in conscious good faith waste the time of the Longin or the Council trying to fight this.”

Concerned, Master Juris asked, “Will you mount no defense? These are serious charges. You could lose much, perhaps even your life.”

“I can only say in my defense that I plead mitigating circumstance. I believe that I went onto dry land when Kurin was so viciously poisoned. I have regarded her as a daughter and responded to her poisoning with a parent’s rage instead of a Captain’s thought and consideration.”

Kotance thoughtfully ran a hand through his red hair before speaking, “As Acting Captain, I must inquire into your state of mind. You say that you ran hard aground. What do you think has put you safely afloat now? In short, are you refusing to fight as a way to get yourself punished for the killings? Do you have safe water under your keel?”

“I believe that I do, Captain. I do not want to be punished but I must take the responsibility for what I have done. I did not even realize that I had done anything seriously wrong until after I saw the charges in writing and had the time to reflect on them. I believe that I am now past that lapse of sanity. I will accept the decision of the Council. Until then, I will serve the Longin in whatever capacity I am allowed.”

Chapter 23: Questions

Kurin braced herself. She had interviewed many of the Grandalor’s company. What she had found had bothered her a great deal because it showed a dark side to the fleet that she loved. Many of the crew had done bad things and had deserved their punishments. Nearly as many more had been the victims of crimes by high officers on their ships or were inconvenient to keep for one or another reason. They had been disposed of.

The Oath of Adoption, where they repudiated their old ship names and took Grandalor in their places was a thing that had been planned without Barad or Tanlin’s knowledge. Originally, only about half the ship’s crew had planned to participate.

When it became obvious that the Captain who had helped them in their need was himself in trouble, they had pulled together behind him unanimously. He had not let them down and they would stand with him. The Oath had been a way to show both him and the Council how they felt. Their loyalty was ferocious.

A lifetime of habit made the very idea of accepting what Barad might tell her as questionable at best. Tanlin had put it succinctly. “Oi understand t’at i’ Barad told ye t’at t’e sky wa’ blue t’at ye wad probably look up t’ check. Twad be best t’ interview ‘im last o’ t’e crew but before Morgu an’ Silor. T’en ye’ll ‘ave somet’in’ t’ use for judgin’ w’at ‘e tells ye.”

Kurin had taken that advice. She drew a deep breath and knocked on the Captain’s cabin door. Tanlin opened it at once. Barad was seated at a small table in the middle of the cabin.

“Do ye wont m’ t’ stay or go?” asked the Captain.

“I would appreciate it if you stayed but all of my other interviews have been solo. I had better do this alone,” Kurin answered.

“T’at’s good,” said Tanlin, stepping through the door. “T’is way shows nae favoritism.”

As the door slid shut behind her Barad smiled wanly and waved her an invitation to sit across from him. “I won’t bite. It cost us dear to get you here to help us. I can’t see how you can save me. I am grateful that you will try to get my wife and crew off.”

Kurin replied thoughtfully, “I may not ever like you, Barad, but you deserve the best justice that can be. I have learned things that I wish that I had never heard or read. I can check almost everything from the fleet archives when we Gather for the trial. I am sure that what I have learned will be backed up.”

The usually self-assured Kurin looked at Barad in dismay and said, “It has me confused. I love my fleet. They have done some terrible things. My own ship is involved. Are they good people or bad? What about you?” The dismay was real enough but the questions were calculated to obtain a candid reaction from Barad.

Barad’s reply shook her to the keel. He considered thoughtfully before answering. “They’re people, Kurin, with both good and bad. Some few in influential places have abused their positions but most try to steer an honest course.

“Me?” he shrugged. “I’ve been worse than most but not as bad as painted by some. I’ve tried to pick up their mistakes and keep the innocent or merely foolish from swimming to your foster father.”

“You mean like Lenai or Darkistry?”

“Good examples. One of each. Darkistry was raped and framed. Lenai simply got pregnant before she could get legally married. The birth slot that she would have to have taken belonged to a friend who was married and had waited three Gatherings for the Lottery to give her a chance at a child.

Lenai had a good heart. At the small Fall gathering, she went to look for a ship that would take her. While she was looking, her ‘friends’ put her goods on the raft, after pilfering the best of them, and left a note barring her from returning to the Darok. I took her and never regretted it. She was the best sail-lofter and rigging surveyor in the fleet so far as I am concerned.

“Little Arnat alone would have been worth taking her in. My wife was long dead, so I gave her my birth slot.” He smiled softly.

Kurin could not help asking, “Why did you take in Silor the way that you did?”

“For five Gatherings, he was my eyes and ears aboard the Longin, though he would never tell Ship’s Business until the fiasco this last Gathering. When his delusions about you led him to be cast off your ship, I could not help him openly because he was to be a key person in the plot to poison you.

“We picked him up in secret. After he had done his part, I would have given him some education in Arrakan writing and figuring and sold him as an indenture to their fleet, where he would have probably become a good officer in time.”

The blunt revelation left Kurin feeling ill, needing to hide. She pulled herself together and asked, “Who all knew of the plan to kill me?”

“At first, only myself, Mister Morgu, and one other that Mister Morgu picked. I later learned that he was Merk, Master Selked’s apprentice, who was needed to make the poisoned kit.”

“What do you mean, ‘at first’?”

“I was troubled by something about the plot but couldn’t put a finger on it. It nagged at me. I know that doesn’t sound like much but very little that I’ve ever done bothers me. I pay attention when something does.

“Shortly after picking up Silor, I took both Tanlin and Master Selked into my confidence. They showed me the fatal errors in my reasoning.

“Tanlin reminded me that by Arrakan custom and Law I would be forsworn if I went ahead. You and Captain Mord were both at our wedding feast. That meant that our enmity was forever over, or I would lose her as wife. Though it broke both of our hearts, she would have left me. How do I tell you that she is more important to me than even my ship?”

The question was rhetorical but Kurin interrupted to answer anyway. She said quietly, “You don’t have to. You stepped down as Captain to save her. That’s proof enough for me.”

Barad gave her a surprised look. I knew the she’d be intelligent. I had not really expected wisdom.

He went on, “Master Selked pointed out that though I had always treated my old grudge as if it were the Longin that I hated, it was really only Mord that I had any complaint of, and that over twenty Gatherings gone. In fact, the very thing that I held against him was the one time that I had completely bested him. Hardly a reason for hate.

“One thing that I pride myself on is that I can change course immediately when I believe I am wrong. We had that one Ord spine unaccounted, and it worried me because none of us knew where it was. I logged and announced Standing General Orders that any use of Ord was mutiny. I further ordered that if any part of the Ord were to be found still aboard, it should be destroyed.”

Kurin paused to consider what to ask next, thoroughly disturbed by all that she was hearing. “That explains the timing of those orders. I found them in the log and they’ve been mentioned in my other interviews.

“You have also filled in the one hole in what Tanlin told me. She tried to protect you. She told me the truth but left you out of the plot to poison me. Now that you have told me the rest of the truth, I like her even better and trust you more as well.

“Several people have mentioned Purser Morgu’s activities during the Gathering. What can you tell me?”

TO BE CONTINUED

<==PREVIOUS NEXT==>

Return to the Master Story Index

Return to World of Sea

#SEA DRAGON’S GIFT #Part 62 of 83 #World of Sea #Written by De Writer

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thethoughtsfromthreeam · 5 years ago

Text

California

Pairing: Agent Whiskey/Jack Daniels x OC

Warnings: None

A/N: Parts 11 and 12/13 run concurrently but from different points of view, so when you see Several Days Later, it’s all happening on the same day. And at last murder answers!

Also, shout out to @mandoandyodito cause their reaction gifs have been killing me over the last week.

Reminder: I haven’t seen Kingsman: The Golden Circle, so I’m just using the Wikia, IMDB.com, some gifs, and my own weird ass brain to make up this whole ass story.

Tag List: @zeldasayer , @romanticgumchewer, @tarrevizslas , @coolmaybelateruniverse , @the-feckless-wonder, @lavenderl3mons , @pascalisthepunkest , @mandoandyodito , @randomness501 [please message me to be added or subtracted]

[PART 1] [PART 2] [PART 3] [PART 4] [PART 5] [PART 6] [PART 7] [PART 8] [PART 9] [PART 10]

Chapter 11

Final Pieces

She stayed like that until she watched the life fade from his eyes and his body stilled. He was dead and it was done. When she was sure of it, she got up and turned back to Jack. He was staring at her with a dazed look in his eyes. Dropping the gun, she hurried over to him, falling to her knees between his legs. Her hands came up and gripped his face.

“Jack.” She whispered it so low that only he could hear it, fearing that he may not love her anymore. Not after he watched her kill a man in cold blood. She didn’t know if she could live without him in her world. The elation that her pain was at an end abruptly left her at the idea of having nothing for her on the other side of it all.

“Marigold.”

She nearly missed it, but when the sound reached her ears, her eyes flew up and looked into his. Behind the dazed look was love and admiration. He didn’t hate her or fear her or whatever else her brain conjured up in those few moments. No.

Jack loved her and he was proud as hell that this woman he loved so much saved her own self from the nightmare that nipped at her heels for five years. He reached up and grasped her face before slamming his lips against hers. Their kiss was a heady mix of desperation, admiration, and love.

In those moments, when Port was strangling him, Jack didn’t feel fear at his situation. Instead, he felt deep despair that he’d may never see his Marigold again and that he was leaving her alone without him. But now, all that dissipated as he felt his love for her coursing through his veins.

When they broke apart, both had tears in their eyes and wide smiles. She grabbed his wrists and held them. Their small moment was interrupted as Champ unleashed the agents. Ginger and Tequila rushed over and dropped to their knees, wrapping their arms around the duo, and they collapsed into a laughing heap of limbs. Ginger kissed Shirley on the cheek and cried. Tequila grabbed her and held her close.

“Darling, I told you that you could shoot the pitcher. Didn’t me and Whiskey train you right?” His joking tone was roughed by his tears. The four sat there for long moments holding onto each other as other agents came in and cleared the scene. Champ turned to Merlin, who was standing next to him.

“Can you stay a little longer? I’m going to need help with the West Coast crew when they get here and I’m a little ashamed to say, I don’t want to break up that party.” He pointed at the crew with his thumb. Merlin smiled while he nodded and walked out with Champ to debrief some HQ agents and prep for West Coast.

Snuggled in the arms of her friends, Shirley looked up and caught Jack staring at her, grinning stupidly. Certainly, one that matched her own. She mouthed something at him, and his smile got impossibly bigger. He mouthed back to her.

“You and me and marigolds. Always.”

---***---

Several Days Later

“The report came back, Ginger. I think we got a hit on who Agent Port really was.” Merlin walked over with the paper he printed off. Statesman Austin had sent over a file on a missing agent who went by code name Kirsch. Ginger took the paper from him and looked at the picture. She grimly looked up at Merlin, who nodded back.

When they read the report, much of it was redacted. Ginger realized they needed the whole thing in order to tie up this case and close it once and for all. She grabbed the phone on her desk and hit the button for Champ’s office.

“Champ, I need you to call Austin and tell them to send me the unredacted files for an Agent Kirsch.” Ginger told him the picture looked exactly like the dead man in the morgue. He put her on hold before dialing down to his Texas brethren. After giving them a verbal beat down, he got back on the line with Ginger.

“Check in five minutes, it should be all there. I swear to god, I’m going to fire that whole ass office myself once of these days. I never liked Agent Rum, too damned arrogant for my liking. And now his staff is starting to act that way. I swear God is challenging me every time I gotta call them.” Champ ended his rant with a swig of bourbon. “If it didn’t make me look like a complete asshole, I’d make ‘em put Mezcal in charge. Now that’s a damn agent worth something.”

“Yes, Champ.” Ginger smiled into the phone. Something about this conversation felt like old times, before California. To be happy a man is dead may seem crass, but she was elated. The invisible cloud that hung over their little group was finally dissipating. She hung up when Merlin signaled the arrival of the case file.

As the two skimmed the contents, Merlin whistled low under his breath. The unredacted files told the story of a man who loved pain. Reports of him hurting fellow recruits in training, of causing physical harm in exercises, and plenty of them indicated that he was extremely violent towards suspects and even witnesses. His entire history was a red flag and Austin ignored the whole thing.

Champ was right. These guys were assholes.

---***---

Merlin threw the files up on the screen and together the two specialists worked to rethink their timeline. At least thirty victims had been identified by Ginger, Tequila, and Chai over the years and ever since the microdrive came back into play a few months ago, over forty other possible names were given to HQ by other Statesmen offices. Most of these were missing recruits, agents, and even retirees.

Ginger and Tequila took over the California case weeks after they returned to Kentucky. With the limited information that Shirley had sent in, they slowly rebuilt the file load as best they could. West Coast and Jackson Hole cooperated, but the work was slow. It seemed that the killer could wait months between murders, and they were certain there were more victims out there.

For over four years they pecked at the case when they could and when information came in, but it mostly stagnated until Shirley revealed the location of the microdrive. That kicked the event into high gear, but they didn’t realize their dogged pursuit would bring the killer so close.

That drive also gave Ginger a personal win – she had suspected since the night they rescued Shirley that the person they were looking for was a Statesman and that he was keeping an eye on the case. All the notes in Shirley’s internal report log drew the same conclusions, but she was stumped at how he was able to go undetected for so long given how wide his killing area seemed to be – all of California, Oregon, and Washington, as well as parts of Wyoming. As active as a killer as he was, Statesmen were still bound by their jobs and would be tracked in the field. But questions always have answers and they will come eventually.

---***---

“Oh my god. . .” Chai sucked in her breath and looked up at Tequila. “T, you need to look at this.” He leaned over at the two files she was looking at and read them. One was the death report of an agent from their Chicago office that went by the code name Pilsner. The other was a report filed by Pilsner at the Jackson Hole office. He looked at her – that first report was dated three months before the field report in her hands.

“Ging, I think we got something.” Chai called out. Ginger looked over at her co-worker. “Pull every missing or dead agent, I need the list, I think I found how he was going undetected.”

With the tap of her fingers, fifteen faces popped up on the screen, including Pilsner and Port. Neither looked like the man killed just days before. Chai ran a search on the names and on her screens pulled up their field reports. Tequila pointed out seven names besides the two they had found that filed field reports after they were reported dead.

Merlin moved back to his computer and pulled up the personnel files for every Statesman office. Given the rather narrow naming scheme the offices use, it is not uncommon for several agents to take on the same code name in succession. If the office was doing the work correctly, there will be a timeline of when the code name was in use. He pulled the names he was looking for and the dates were cross referenced to the time frame they now built.

“Look at this.” Said Merlin. “He was taking on the dead agents’ names after he killed them, but only if they were declared dead, but not in the line of duty, which would then alert other Statesman offices of the change. If the name wasn’t put back into use right away, then he could modify his credentials within the system. You have so many offices that its likely no one was paying attention to an Agent Port or Pilsner showing up to work a case. It’s how he could still access everything in Statesman and not get caught.”

“I bet you’re right, Merlin,” Said Tequila. “I know all the front desk does is scan our cards when we arrive at an office, but beyond that, nothing else. He clearly has the tech smarts to hide most of his tracks, but it sounds like he was relying on holes in the operating system to cover the rest.”

“Yeah, well it worked. The Pilsner reports are from three years ago and it seems like we’re the only ones just catching all of this.” Replied Chai. She shifted the files onto the main screen and let the computer put them in the timeline. The four of them looked at each other and then back to the wall. Their timeline just got a lot easier as more pieces fell into place. Ginger walked over to the phone and called Champ back.

“This case will be closed today, want to come watch?”

“I’ll be right down.”

#agent whiskey #jack daniels #pedro pascal #kingsman: the golden circle #fanfic #agent whiskey x oc #agent whiskey x reader #pedro pascal x reader

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morgueofstories · 8 months ago

Note

Remenber

A swarm of children surrounded a woman wearing a black cover around her eyes, excited to hear her tell a story like she usually did every month she came to the village. She wasn’t a local to the village, yet the kids noticed the adults treated her with respect and were hospitable whenever she came around.

Even though she could not see them, the woman smiled as she listened to the kids chatter and talk over one another. When she clapped her hands, the kids fell silent, knowing it was story time.

“Who wants to hear a tale about a beautiful fairy whose eyes resembled emeralds and the demon king feared by everyone including the gods?” She asked, listening as the kids all said yes, to which she chuckled.

“This tale has a valuable lesson I hope you all remember, as the consequences can be very dangerous should you dare to go against what I tell you all.” The kids were shocked when the woman’s voice turned stern and serious, as she never usually took on that tone when telling a tale.

“Once upon a time, there was a fairy. A beautiful fairy whose most exquisite trait was his eyes which resembled emeralds. He was born with the ability to create worlds, which you all know as servers. At the young age of sixteen, he was able to create his first world, which was an incredible feat for an admin so young.”

“While being trained to become a proper admin, he met someone who would soon be crowned the demon king; however at the time, he was just known as the demon prince. Everyone feared him as back then demons weren’t as accepted as they are right now.”

“Everyone that is, except for the fairy. Over the years at the academy, the two grew from acquaintances to friends, and eventually became lovers during their last year in the academy.”

She heard some of the little girls gasp and whisper excitedly, as romance is something whimsical to little girls at their age, which the storyteller knew all too well.

“They kept their relationship a secret, as the demon prince had many enemies who were waiting for a weakness to appear so they could use it against him. However, the demon prince did promise the fairy that once he became king, the two could get married.”

“When graduation came and left, the two went their separate ways. The fairy went with his other friends to go and create a server for them all to live in peace, while the demon prince left to go and claim the throne.”

“Years passed, and soon the fairy faced an issue. The more people he allowed into his server, the more wars started occurring, and the more those he trusted slowly started to turn on him. The fairy couldn’t understand what he had done wrong for all this to occur, and in a state of distress, he left his server to take a breather.”

“Why did the wars occur? I thought the server was peaceful?” A boy asked and the kids watched the storyteller’s face become grim.

“It was because of a gremlin and a siren. The gremlin caused chaos on the server while pretending to be a young, innocent child who did no wrong; and the siren was the one who whispered lies to the other server members about how it was all because of the fairy and that the fairy was a cruel, merciless tyrant.”

“The two managed to have everyone, including those the fairy saw as his family, turn their backs on him when he needed them the most.”

“Why didn’t anyone notice that they were the ones hurting the server?” The storyteller could hear another boy ask, to which the other kids chimed in with agreement.

“Because they did not want to admit they were wrong, and that unfortunately, is what leads to a tragic thing to occur later on.” She told the kids.

“But we are not at that part of the story yet.”

“So, the fairy leaves the server to clear his head, and while away, he bumps into someone he hasn’t seen for the past three years. The demon prince.”

“But the demon wasn’t a prince anymore, he was now a king, and he had gone looking for the fairy to fulfill the promise they both made each other.”

“The two immediately decided to catch up and spend time with one another. Soon days turned into weeks, which turned into months, and the two’s love grew stronger and stronger during their time together.”

“The two then got married, with one of the ceremonies being a soul bond, a bond that let them feel if one of them was in immense pain or even death. They spent the next couple of weeks in marital bliss before the demon king asked the fairy to come and live with him on his server.”

“At first, the fairy was conflicted, as he didn’t want to leave his server he created. But after some time, he realized that the server never felt like home to him in the past months and that it was probably best to leave the past behind and let go.”

“So the fairy decided to return to his server and give away his abilities to maintain the server to an old friend who was like a mentor to him. The demon king wanted to go with him, but the fairy told him everything would be fine.”

“What the fairy didn’t know is that one of the server members saw him and the demon king together and told the others, and those who were once the fairy’s friends became jealous and came up with a devious plan.”

The storyteller could hear some of the children gasp.

“When the fairy entered his server, he was ambushed by the server members and detained in a cage made out of obsidian and crying obsidian, which weakens an admin and keeps them from being able to use their abilities.”

“For further measure, the fairy’s wings were bound tightly to his back with iron, he was blinded, ankles bound tightly together with chains, and an iron clasp was put around his neck.”

“Now iron tends to burn fairies, so the fairy was in immense pain and agony throughout his time locked away. He cried, begging for those he once saw as his family to free him, but no one bothered to listen to him since they saw him as the villain of the server.”

I may continue this, I just may need to change the ending but I'll have to see

I honestly forgot about this

Also, this was based off of @rainystressed247 fairy!dream art, go check them out as they draw c!dream so pretty

#morgue answer logs #farfadream #nethersmile

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kadavernagh · 4 years ago

Text

The Missing Piece || Solo

The tray full of eyeballs stared back at her.

It wasn’t even the first tray of them collected today.

At this point, she had freezers full of them. Regan slotted the new tray into one of the compartments and ran her tingling hands through her hair. This town was a fucking mess. She was a fucking mess. Why was she staying here, again?

Right. Nowhere else to go. And some of the people. She couldn’t discount them.

Regan hadn’t planned on working this week, given recent events with Erin and the destruction of most of the glass in the autopsy suite, but there was nothing like a town-wide pathology emergency to press her back into service. People were bringing eyes into the morgue by the bucketful, and she knew most of them weren’t even making it here to begin with. The station was being buried in them. People were driving over them in their cars. Some reported eyes dripping out of their faucets and showerheads. There were too many to investigate in any organized way.

Please don’t be human.

If they were human, how were the decedents going to be identified, in the absence of CODIS hits? How were any of the next of kin going to get closure, get answers?

But they looked human. They lacked a tapetum lucidum. The folds of the conjunctiva looked like any others she’d seen gracing the decedents on her table. Some were cloudy, others sharp, fresh. They looked human.

Toxicology was still underway -- there was so much vitreous humor to draw, and more still -- but at least the DNA profiling was complete. Regan headed back to her office to get the latest update from the analysts. Vitreous humor wasn’t exactly the ideal forensic specimen to work with for genetic analysis, but it had to be good enough. She logged into her laptop with her uninjured hand.

What she saw made pressure stir up in her lungs, try to climb out of her trachea. Regan took a deep breath and clamped her mouth shut, eyes running across the screen as she tried to soak everything in.

It was not what she had been hoping for.

All 20 STRs were accounted for in each of the samples, with scarcely any allelic dropout. That could only mean they were human samples. Human eyes from human decedents.

Her insides crushed at the thought. The town was covered in human remains. But whose? And how? And -- Regan’s lungs began to burn, and the sound kept struggling to escape from her mouth. She needed to clear her head. Approach this logically. Like any other case. That’s what it was, at its core. Identify the victims. Figure out what happened. Provide closure.

Identify the victims. The thought gave her direction, made it a little easier to swallow back what pushed against her lips. Her breathing slowed. “Okay.” She whispered to herself. “Okay. Breathe, Kavanagh. Identify the victims.”

She got started, plugged the first DNA profile into CODIS. One of 50 finished profiles, with so many more in waiting. In the freezer. Any kind of hit seemed unlikely. The system first scanned through the Convicted Offender and Arrestee Indices, looking for any possible hits with individuals who have been arrested or convicted across the country. Nothing.

What about the Forensic Index? She tried that next, searching against Maine’s database of crime scene DNA profiles, those of her decedents and missing persons.

There was a hit. Amy Longwood. Once more, the pressure knocked at her lungs. Regan tried to work past it. CODIS listed the agency involved -- White Crest. It was a local case, though not one she had worked on. She copied down the information, would need to request a case file from the police. Longwood never made it through her office. She had a feeling she knew what that meant -- Longwood was missing. This was a missing person whose eyes turned up in the middle of Amity Road.

Next profile. Again, no criminal record. The hit came in. No name this time, as it wasn’t a local case. Far from local. The agency listed was all the way in Lagos, Nigeria. Again, Regan copied down the Specimen Identification Number so someone could reach out to the agency.

Another. San Francisco, with a note in the system. Missing, presumed deceased. Another agency to reach out to, another set of eyes appearing in White Crest, seemingly from across the country.

None of this made sense. The eyes were human. Not just human, but it was looking like most of them belonged to people who were thought to be missing. Maybe some who no one even realized vanished, those on the fringes of society. They were human. They were missing. And they were in White Crest.

It didn’t make sense yet. But Regan’s determination to see this through was sharpened into a hard edge. Identify the victims.

There were 47 more to go. And then thousands more.

#wickedswriting #solo

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timelords-angel-is-sherlocked · 5 years ago

Text

Supernatural Supercorp AU

"Lena's on a hunting trip and she hasn't been home in a few days."

Kara's world titled on its axel and she felt her heart drop. Lena had been silent for a week but Kara hadn't thought much of it. She couldn't think much of it or else she would start spiraling because she knew exactly what kind of things could make her go silent.

"Excuse us." Kara stood up from her desk and dragged Alex outside where no one could hear them. "What job was she working?"

"I'm not sure, it was something in Jericho. I was in Arizona dealing with a demon. Told her to wait for me, but you know how she gets." Alex slouched her shoulders and she leaned against the wall. "There's been a spike in activity. More and more spooks have been popping up all over the place, so the hunters have been a spread thin trying to deal with it. We hardly ever split up but..." she shook her head. "I know you're out of the game and you've renounced this life, but I could really use some help. Lena doesn't go down easily so I want to be prepared for anything."

Kara pursed her lips as she thought about it. The last time she hunted was three years ago, and that was only because a vamp was killing people on her college campus. If she went on another job and saw Lena again, she wasn't sure if she'd want to come back to CatCo. And Lena... That was a whole other story in of itself.

It all started back in Midvale about 5 years ago. Kara was in her senior year of high school and Alex was halfway through med school. A month before the day everything changed, there were two murders (an oddity in a small town like Midvale) and everyone was sketched out. Alex offered to take Kara to camp in the woods to have some sister bonding time. It was winter break and the stars always helped Kara relax so she agreed. If only Kara had said no, then maybe she would never even have thought of "hunting" as anything different than shooting animals.

They easily set up the tent and started a small fire to roast some marshmallows. Alex had been catching Kara up on how medical school was going and her roommate who only ate green m&m's and slept with one sock on. In return, Kara told Alex how school was going and that Eliza was doing well. It was a fun conversation until Kara heard a faint growl.

"Did you hear that?" The blonde scooted closer to her older sister. "It sounded like a dog or something."

"You have freakishly good hearing, Kara. I didn't hear anything." Alex reached for her gun anyway.

Kara heard it louder now. Alex tensed up and searched the woods but couldn't see anything at all. The full moon was able to provide some lighting, but not much.

A howl pierced the air and a tall figure came into view. It stalked towards the two sisters and Kara nearly fainted. In front of them stood a man with thick hairs covered all over him. He was snarling with his fangs and claws out, ready to attack. Alex shot two bullets straight into the creature but it only staggered back some.

"You two look delicious."

Kara was clinging onto her big sister hoping Alex would somehow find a way to save them. She was desperately shooting until her gun was out of ammo. The creature laughed and bent its legs, ready to lunge, but was intercepted by a body tackling it.

It was a girl, Kara realized, and she was wearing a pair of silver brass knuckles. She punched the monster in the face again and pulled a silver knife from her belt. She stabbed the monster's arm and it howled in pain.

"Are you the last of your pack?” She twisted the knife and the monster whimpered in pain.

"Stupid hunter!" The creature grabbed the girl by the neck and threw her five feet into a tree. It pulled the knife out and prowled towards her. "I don't have a pack. They were wiped out by your people!"

The girl rolled to the side to avoid being ripped to shreds. She patted her side and grabbed a gun. Kara wanted to scream, to warn her that bullets had no effect, but she was petrified. Frozen to the spot.

"So you start murdering people in the town?" She shot a bullet and the monster stumbled back in pain. “Thought you would be smarter than that.”

"Humans deserve to die." It dropped to the ground and Kara could hear it's ragged breaths. "I would've killed them all-" two bullets burrowed inside its head.

"Yeah, yeah." The girl spun her gun and placed it in her pants. As she searched for her knife, the creature’s body started to morph into... Mr. Henderson?

"What the hell is going on?" Alex demanded. She was shaking and her voice cracked, but Kara appreciated the effort to stay cool nevertheless.

"I'm sorry about that." The woman wiped the blood off her knife on her trousers. "Are you both alright?"

"What was that? How come Alex's gun didn't work on it? Why is Mr. Henderson there when it was the monster? Who are you?" Kara blurted out.

"My name is Lena and that's a werewolf." She sat down on a log opposite the sisters, rubbing her neck. "Silver is the only thing that can harm them. Turns out Mr. Henderson here was behind the murders last month. A friend of mine came through the town and killed a pack, but it seems one slipped through her fingers. Came as soon as I could. Good thing I got here when I did." She pulled out a flask and drank from it.

"He was a werewolf?" Alex looked at Lena as if she were crazy. Kara would have called her nuts if she hadn't just witnessed the whole thing. "What did he mean by "hunter" and "your people?"

Lena bit her lip in contemplation. "The less you know, the better off you are. I've got rid of the threat, but I highly recommend getting the heck out of here. I'll get rid of the body, so no need to worry about that."

"That sounds like a good idea." Kara nodded her head and started to tear down the tent. She really wanted to go home and forget any of this ever happened.

Alex got up and nudged the dead body with her foot. "How come nobody knew he was a werewolf? This is a small town, we would've noticed someone turning into that every full moon."

"They're smart. Ate animal hearts for the most part and traveled out of town to eat human hearts in the city." She watched Kara disassemble the tent. "Monsters are smart like that. When something bad happens, some snap and forget to be careful."

"How long has this been happening?" Alex asked in disbelief. Kara momentarily stopped. She was curious too.

"That family that went missing a while ago, how long did they live here? However long that was is however long they were most likely chowing down on some hearts." They both gave her exasperated looks. "What?”

The tent was now all packed up. "So you're saying that the whole Abbott family were werewolves?" They sold flowers in the middle of town. Flowers! That was not threatening at all!

"Look, I drove six hours straight to get here. I'm tired, hungry, and in a bunch of pain. And I've got to burn its body. Can you guys hurry it up?"

"We're good to go." It was dark out and after what they just went through, Kara was kind of terrified of picking their way down. "Can we uh, do you mind if - I'm sorry, just." She looked at Alex who seemed to understand her fears.

"I can help you with the body if you don't mind us sticking with you on the way down? I know this awesome 24-hour diner that we can go to if you're willing to answer more questions."

Lena seemed to think it through. "You paying?"

"It's the least we can do." Lena grinned - Kara could tell by the flash of white in the darkness - and said, "Hell yeah! Let's burn this son of a gun."

Kara stayed off to the side while the two burned it. The smoke burned her eyes and the smell made her want to throw up, but they thankfully left right away. Alex drove to Anna's with Lena following close behind in her own car.

When they stepped inside, Kara was able to get her first good look at Lena. And when she did, her heart stuttered in her chest. Lena was about an inch shorter than Kara, and she looked to be around the same age. She had startling green eyes that froze Kara to the spot and a jawline that was sharper than her knife. She had a black tank top with a flannel and a bomber jacket thrown over it complete with tight cargo pants, that no doubt had some weapons in it, and black combat boots. Alex had to elbow Kara so she would stop staring.

"I haven't had a milkshake in so long," Lena moaned as she slurped the drink and Kara blushed at the sound.

"Anna does have the best milkshakes," Kara squeaked.

Alex furrowed her eyebrows at Kara but she refused to look at her sister. "So what is it that you do for a living? Kill werewolves?"

"Werewolves, vampires, skinwalkers, anything that goes bump in the night."

"So that stuff is really real? Demons too?" Lena nodded. "How come we don't know about this stuff? Never heard about it?"

"You really think the public would be okay knowing stuff like that exists?" She downed the rest of her drink. "Of course some just want to live out their lives as harmlessly as they can. I know vamps who have deals with blood banks and ghouls who work in morgues and eat unclaimed bodies. But just as there are bad humans, there are bad monsters. We hunters do our best to gank the bad ones before too many people start asking questions. Most people don't know where to look so they don't see what's going on."

"So hunters are like the underworld version of cops?" Kara asked.

"Kinda. Except most people don't know about us, we don't get paid, and if we're not careful we die a gory death." She leaned back and starting tapping on the table anxiously. "I'm not in it to be a hero or anything, I just want to save as many people as I can. Give people answers to mysterious deaths. Deal with a poltergeist or two when I'm in between jobs."

"How long have you been doing this?"

"A while." The food arrived and Lena lit up when the burger was placed in front of her. "I usually try to eat healthy but I couldn’t resist. How often do you see a triple-decker bacon burger?”

Kara wholeheartedly agreed with that. The burgers there were the best in all of Midvale. She’d eat there every day if she could.

"How does one become a hunter?" Alex asked. Kara glanced at her sister curiously.

“Depends. Some people are born into it. Some accidentally get dragged into the life. Or when they get rescued from a supernatural attack, they get invested and want to hunt too." Lena shrugged and moved onto her fries.

"How'd you become one?" Lena stared at Kara with hard eyes. Touchy subject, got it.

"I want to become a hunter," Alex proclaimed.

"No, you don't. I appreciate the food and helping me, but trust me, you don't want anything to do with this life. You see loved ones die in gruesome ways, it's shitty motel after shitty motel, driving for hours on end through states, being tired to the bone, exhausted beyond relief, nightmares of the people you couldn't save, and paranoid that monsters are coming after you. If you become too big too fast, the monsters start talking and you get a target on your back. You can't exactly tell people what you do for a living or you'll end up in a mental hospital and it's a lonely life. So no, you don't want to become a hunter, sweetheart. Once you're in, you're in. You can't exactly unsee things and the life expectancy rate is like, 30 years old. You've got spunk, though. I admire that."

Alex sat up and stared directly at Lena. “But you save people. My sister and I would have been murdered and no one would have known. There are other people like that out there right? Families and younger siblings in danger?”

“Are you seriously ignoring what I just said? How old are you? 19? 20? You’ve got your whole life ahead of you. You’re probably in college too. Am I right sweetcheeks?”

Kara startled when she realized she was the one being spoken to. “She’s 20 and she’s halfway through med school,” she supplied helpfully.

“Kara!” Alex hissed and elbowed her sister.

“A medical student? Impressive.” She wiped her face using a napkin. “Become a doctor and save the world that way. Cure diseases, stop pandemics. What I’d give to go back to school,” she mused as she took on a thousand-mile stare.

“School isn’t actually what I really want to do,” Alex muttered. “I’m only doing it because my mom wants me to. I wanted to be a police officer.” Alex hadn’t told anyone that before and it felt good to get it out.

Lena stared Alex downed and it seemed as if she was somehow staring straight into her soul. “You’re on winter break?” They both nodded. “I have a job in Las Vegas. My contact wasn’t too specific, but I think it could be a vamp nest. If you’re serious about becoming a hunter, I’ll let you tag along. But you have to listen to everything I say and you will not put yourself in a dangerous position. Is that understood?”

It was a bit odd to see Alex look intimidated, especially by someone who was younger than her, but she was nodding along seriously. “I am super serious.”

“Hm.” Lena crossed her arms and moved her gaze from Alex to Kara. “What about you, cupcake? You in?”

Kara had bever been more afraid in her life. She just wanted to go home and forget everything that happened, but Alex was going. Plus, there was a chance Kara could ask Lena for some lessons and be pinned under her… “How are you going to convince Eliza to let us go, Alex?

“Don’t worry about it, Kara. I’ve got it handled,” she smirked.

Kara wasn’t sure what lies Alex told the eldest Danvers, but it worked. Two days after the diner, the trio was off to Las Vegas. Lena insisted on driving the entire way, saying that no one was to ever drive her baby. It was an old car, a 1967 Chevrolet Impala, but it had clearly been well taken care of. She had mixtapes that were purely classic rock and heavy metal which made Alex appreciate the hunter even more. The drive, which should have been at least 6 hours, took about 4 and a half (Lena was speeding and Kara half expected them to get pulled over but they never did).

It was around noon when they arrived at Sin City and they stopped for a quick bite before finding a cheap motel at the end of the strip.

“I think I know where the hideout is,” Lena spoke up from her bed. They had checked into the room about three hours prior and Lena spent the time typing away on her laptop and answering Alex’s never-ending questions. Kara took to reading through her journal about all the monsters she’s encountered and how to defeat them. She tried not to be jealous when she saw the name “Sam” popping up every once in a while.

“Where?”

“An old warehouse about an hour out. I don’t know, something just doesn’t feel right about this.” She ran her hand through her hair for the millionth time that hour. “It’s our best chance, so let’s go check it out.”

Kara was impressed by the arsenal the hunter kept in the trunk of her car. It was enough to arm a small army. Alex was given a syringe full of deadman’s blood and Kara a machete with instructions to cut off the vampire’s head clean off. It was just before 10 when they arrived and Kara strained her ears to see if she could hear anything but she was too far away.

“I have a really bad feeling about this,” Lena muttered. She stayed in her seat with her eyes closed. Alex and Kara exchanged looks but stayed quiet. “I’m going to go in first. If I’m not out in five minutes, Alex come after me. If she’s not out in two minutes, you come in Kara. If it’s not a vampire, then it might be a djinn. Deadman’s blood won’t work on it, so try and smash its head in.” Lena gripped her own machete. “Start the timer.” She opened the door and dashed towards the ominous building.

At the four minute mark, Alex went in after her. From what Kara had gathered, Lena was an expert hunter and she had taken down far more than a vampire nest. Maybe her intuition was right and it was a djinn, not a vampire nest. Kara opened the trunk and rummaged through the assortment of weapons and thanked God for the jar of lamb’s blood. From what she read, Lena never actually faced a djinn before but someone named Lionel had. He used a silver knife dipped in lamb’s blood to kill it so Kara prayed that it would work.

She snuck into the building but she still couldn’t find anything. She walked as silently as she could until she saw a light up ahead. When she approached it, she noticed Lena tied to a chair with her head resting on her chest. Then she saw Alex slumped in a man’s arm. He was carrying her to a table where there was an assortment of knives. Panic surged through the blonde’s body but she couldn’t mess up now. They were depending on her!

Once he set Alex down, Kara dashed forward with a burst of speed and brought the knife down only for the body to dodge out of the way.

“It must be Christmas!” The man exclaimed. “So many bodies, so much blood.” He licked his lips. “I’ll be feasting on you all for a while!” He rushed towards Kara but she dodged his hand. She couldn’t be touched or else she would be put in a coma like the others.

He tried to come at her again but Kara ducked and swiped her legs at his feet. The djinn jumped to avoid her legs but missed the punch she sent at his face. When he grabbed it, Kara kicked him in his sweet spot and brought the knife down to his chest. His eyes shined an unnatural shade of blue before he went limp. Blue blood had splattered on her, but Kara didn’t care. She ran to Alex’s side and gently woke her up.

“It’s not a vampire!” Alex sat up and looked around fearfully. “You’ve got to run!”

“Alex, it’s okay, it’s okay.” Kara grabbed her shoulders and made direct eye contact with her sister. “Everything is under control now.” She heard groaning from behind her and she turned to see Lena waking up. Her eyes were blurry and wet, as if she was about to cry, and she took in her surroundings.

“Untie me, yeah?” Kara obliged and walked over to cut the ropes. “I’m impressed, Danvers. You really saved my ass.”

Kara blushed and tried to say something cool like, no problem. Or, it was nothing. Maybe something funny like, guess I’m your knight in shining armor. What she actually said was, “I used your lamb’s blood to kill it, sorry.”

The hunter laughed and shook her head. “A small price to pay. I’ll be sure to get some more, then.” She looked at the dead body and the knife that was still protruding from his chest. “Hey Alex, can you get some empty syringes? I want to get as much of his blood as I can to study it.”

“Yeah, sure.” Alex was still in a daze but she managed to stumble out of the empty warehouse.

Lena turned to look at Kara and studied her face. “I knew you didn’t really want to tag along, but thank you for coming. Seriously. I would have been pissed as hell if I died now. I’ve still got to…” she bit her lip to stop herself. “You’re a natural. Even I would have had some trouble dealing with him if I had known what I was dealing with.” She gently cupped Kara’s face and pressed a kiss to her cheek, her lips catching the corner of Kara’s.

Kara almost fainted from the adrenaline crash and the lightheadedness she felt from Lena’s lips on her. Thankfully, Lena dragged her into a chair with a wry chuckle. She and Alex filled five vials with the djinn’s blood before the three put that place behind and headed back to the motel.

They stayed in Vegas for another day. Kara and Alex explored the city while Lena stayed inside to do research. When they made it back to Midvale, Lena informed them that she’d stay in town for a couple of days since there were no pressing jobs that needed her attention.

A couple of days ended up being the rest of winter break. She had taken them to Salt Lake City after the New Year to take care of a vengeful spirit but, other than that, there were no more hunts. Alex was convinced that this was her calling and was determined to become a hunter. Kara couldn’t deny how right it felt kicking butt with Lena and saving the world one monster at a time, either. Once their year was over, Lena promised she would take them for a couple of more hunts before allowing them to become fully invested.

After she left, Kara and Alex spent a lot of time getting into shape and Kara continued even after Alex went back to school. In her free time, she would either read different mythologies or text Lena.

(Even though Lena was hunting a lot, or driving through states, or in a different time zone, she always made sure to at least text Kara once a day. Sometimes on long drives, they’d even talk on the phone. Alex didn’t get the same treatment and it made Kara’s heart do somersaults when she found that out.)

Lena and Alex were both there for her high school graduation and she definitely cried. Her parents couldn’t make it to see her, but she was glad she had her best friends and Eliza there for her. Alex and Kara spent a week with Eliza before bidding her farewell. Kara was taking a year off to “travel” before college. It was the best decision she had made.

Driving through states was sometimes boring, but the scenery always fascinated her. She and Alex would quiz each other on their lore while Lena drove (she was still adamant about not letting anyone touch her baby). They did a bunch of different jobs varying from cursed objects to demon possessions to ghouls. Sometimes there’d be weeks in between jobs but Lena still stayed hunched over her laptop doing research. Even on hunts she’d disappear for a while and come back looking defeated. It almost seemed like she had her own side quest but the Danvers sisters didn’t want to ask. What they had was good and they didn’t want to ruin it.

Kara learned how to make fake ID’s and was practicing on making FBI ones. Alex was the prodigy in lore and Lena would write down experiment ideas on new ways to defeat monsters.

One year had turned into two and somewhere along the way, Kara and Lena got together. Lena still had major trust issues and she wouldn’t open up all the time, but what they had was special. Alex would tease them about their relationship but she was happy for them. Things were going well until they went back to Midvale.

Eliza and Clark (Kara’s cousin) staged an intervention and asked Kara what she was doing with her life. Eliza had long given up on trying to get Alex to get back to school so Kara was the next best thing, it seemed. She couldn’t tell them that she was hunting monsters and running credit card scams so they could get by.

“It’s been two years, Kara. I think you’ve seen enough of the States. It’s time to settle down and go to college, don’t you think?”

Kara had caved in and applied to UCLA. Alex was proud of her and Lena was… she was bittersweet.

“I’m proud of you, darling. It’s good to get out of this life while you can. You’re smart and you deserve that education,” she said as they sat on the good of the Impala.

“Yeah, I guess so.” Kara frowned and kicked her dangling feet. “I’m going to miss chumming it with the both of you guys and hunting.” It was true that Kara was averse to the whole thing at first, but it really changed her life. Saving families, killing monsters, working with her girlfriend and sister, it was the life. But, she was also excited to get her education. She did want to be a reporter like her cousin.

“You’re going to be amazing, babe. Keep a low profile and don’t go on any hunts, okay?”

“Okay.” Kara playfully nudged Lena and they clinked their beer bottles together and drank until Alex fetched them to go back inside.

It was halfway through Kara’s first semester when they realized the strain the distance and the hunting had on their relationship. Even though it broke their hearts, the breakup was mutual. Kara’s workload was getting heavier and the monsters were becoming more dangerous on Lena’s end.

When there were mysterious killings on campus of students with their blood being drained and bite marks on their necks, well, no one had to know it was Kara who stopped the killings.

Kara went on to live the college experience and had a blast. She had shoved the past two years into the back of her head and focused on the present and future. In her last year, she had managed to snag a job at CatCo as Cat Grant’s assistant. Her classes were all early in the morning so she would eat lunch then head over. The job tested her each and every day, but Kara was thankful for her training as a hunter. She would rather take on a pack of werewolves than deal with Ms. Grant when something went wrong (which was at least twice a week).

Once she graduated and worked full time, she made some good friends. Winn Schott who was a nerdy IT guy, and James Olsen who worked in the photography department and was a friend of Clark’s. Everything was going great until Alex showed up.

“Increased activity how?” Kara settled on asking once she managed to get her head out of the past.

“A lot of demons have been prowling around and Lena’s been obsessed with it for some reason. Saying she’s close to figuring something out, but I don’t know. I could never read her as well as you could and we’ve been apart for a while now. Anyways. Are you coming? I wanna get going before the trail goes cold.”

“Yes, of course I’m coming. I’ve got to talk to Ms. Grant first.” Kara dragged her sister to her desk and asked her to wait. She walked into the office tentatively and waited for her boss to look at her.

“What is it, Kiera? I’m busy,” she snapped.

Kara pushed her glasses up (she didn’t need them but it helped with her ‘innocent girl’ look) and cleared her throat. “I need to leave and take the rest of the week off. There’s a family emergency.”

Cat stopped typing and looked at her assistant. “It’s Tuesday, Kiera. You can’t leave on such short notice.”

“I realize that, Ms. Grant, but it’s truly an emergency. Lives are at stake.”

“Lives are always at stake. You can leave tomorrow.”

Kara didn’t have time for this. Lena was missing and she needed to be out there looking for her! “Ms. Grant with all due respect, it is urgent I leave as soon as possible. My family is at risk and she needs me,” she emphasized. Even if they were broken up and hadn’t actually seen each other in years, Lena was still one of the most important people in her life.

“Very well. Send Mr. Gomez in.” Kara nodded gratefully and started hurrying out of the office. “And Kara, I hope you find her.”

“Thank you, Ms. Grant.” She grabbed Alex’s arm and started to drag her out of the building. “Let’s stop by my apartment real quick to grab some clothes and snacks. Jericho isn’t too far from here, we can still make it before nightfall.”

“God, you have an apartment?” Alex smiled at her little sister. “And a steady job. And you graduated from college. I am so proud of you.” She gave the blonde a side hug.

“Yep.”

Alex pulled out her keys and unlocked a car. It was black with red accents. “1965 Ford Mustang,” she announced proudly. “Won in it a gamble with some other hunters. Lena helped me fix her up. She’s amazingly good with cars. I’m pretty sure she could disassemble and reassemble the Impala with her eyes closed.”

“She does love that car,” Kara agreed. Though, she loved watching Lena work on her baby. Her biceps flexing as she fixed whatever was inside the hood, the sweat dripping down her brow, the grease smudging her face when she would try and wipe it away, the- Woah. “I sure hope we’ll be back by Monday. I stood up to Cat Grant, and I don’t think she’s very happy with me right now.”

Alex laughed. “You’ve always had a big pair on you. Now tell me where to go so we can go save our girl.”

“Right!”

Little did Kara know that she was not only getting herself back in the game, but she was diving headfirst into what could be the start of the apocalypse.

#i wrote this at 3 am dont judge #rewatching spn and my brain thought this up #oneshot #maybe this could become a fic who knows #supercorp #lena luthor #kara danvers #alex danvers

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loveforpreserumsteve · 5 years ago

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Begin Again (Mortician!Steve and Baker!Bucky Modern “Moving On” AU)

Fifteen:

The endorphins that filled Steve from spending a half hour with Bucky left him feeling high, and stayed with him for the next week. Causing him to cheerfully whistle as he got ready for his day. Causing him to run faster with Vinnie on their morning runs. Causing him to give Vinnie an extra treat because he was such a good boy, yes he was. Causing him to dance between working on the bodies in the morgue.

By Monday, Eddie had noticed. On Tuesday, he had commented. Come Wednesday, Steve had agreed to babysit Birdie, so Cliff and Julie could go on an impromptu date. And on Thursday, Steve had wondered if it was too soon to stop by the cake shop. Of course, on Friday, Steve had regained his logical side and decided against going to see Bucky. He didn't want to seem pathetic, after all.

Surprised to find that his good mood had lasted until Saturday, Steve had decided to pick up an old hobby. Sure, most of his paints had either gone moldy or dried out. But he still had a few sketchbooks that had some empty pages left. And his colored pencils were still good. Albeit broken. But still usable.

Losing himself in his free afternoon, he didn't realize what time it was until he went to take Vinnie out again. Instead of simply letting him out to potty, he led the Weimaraner to his car. Technically, it had been Nat's first, but Steve wasn't going to lift his nose about receiving a hand-me-down car, much less when it was a Lexus.

Driving across town to the suburb where his friends lived, Steve possibly sped. Nothing too fast, but faster than was suggested. Vinnie didn't seem to mind though as he hung his head out the window. Tongue lulling out of his open mouth and happily panting the whole ride there.

Parking along the curb, Steve led Vinnie through the gate and up the path to the front door. Letting himself in, Steve was greeted by sounds of young boys loudly playing pretend further into the house. Presumably, the family room.

"Prepare to meet your doom!" Natasha theatrically exclaimed.

Steve grinned as he toed off his shoes. Vinnie, the good boy that he was, sat there beside him as he eagerly waited for the go-ahead. Gesturing towards the sound, Steve allowed, "Go on."

"Nat, sweetie," Sam called as he climbed down the staircase. Expertly maneuvering around stuffed animals, toy cars, baseball gloves, and plastic knight shields on his way down. All while fastening his cufflinks and reminding, "We're going to be late for our reservations."

"Aw, come on," the boys chorused as Nattie made her way to the front door. The three boys following mournfully behind her, holding onto her hands and waist while tugging at her black dress. Well, they were until they saw…

"Uncle Steve!" The boys excitedly exclaimed as they left Natasha for Steve. Grabbing onto his limbs and tugging on him as though he was a jungle gym.

"Now, are you gonna be good?" Sam questioned.

"They're always good," Steve defended the three boys, managing to use his hard-won muscles to physically lift the twins in the air as they dangled from his biceps like earrings.

"I was asking you," Sam teased as he sat on the stairs to tie his laces.

As Nat slipped on her black pumps, she smirked up at Steve, "You, uh, planning on chopping some logs later?"

Playfully, Steve rolled his eyes. Was he wearing a flannel specifically after talking to Bucky? Yes. Was it because Bucky admitted to liking men in flannels? Also, very distinctly, yes. Not that Steve was going to tell them that.

"You have a crush," Natasha correctly assumed, pleased with this new piece of information.

Blushing, Steve lied, "No, I don't."

"Yes, you do," Natasha argued. Poking his chest, she reminded, "And you're a shit liar."

"I would tell you to put a quarter in the Swear Jar," Sam stood from the stairs and helped Natasha slip into her jacket, "But I'm much more interested in this. Who do you have a crush on, Steve?"

"What's a crush?" Axel asked, trying to use more of his insignificant body weight to his advantage. Steve had to give it to the five year old, he was trying his hardest.

"It's what Nattie has on Daddy," the wiser, seven year old, Blaze, answered.

"No, it's what Daddy has on Nattie," the youngest of them, Knox, argued to simply be argumentative.

"You're both right," Sam appeased while Natasha answered Axel in a way that he would understand, "It's when someone thinks another person is cute."

Good-naturedly shoving at Steve's shoulder, Natasha demanded, "Now, spill!"

The blush creeping up his ears, Steve deflected, "You're gonna miss your reservations."

"Ooh, he's right," Sam confirmed, making sure he had his wallet and keys. Finding them in his pockets, he started ushering Natasha towards the door. On their way, he told Steve, "The baked ziti is already in the oven and the garlic bread will need to go in ten minutes from now."

"Thank you," Steve gushed gratefully.

"We're not done with this conversation, Rogers," Nat called as she left the house.

"She's right though," Sam conceded, closing the door behind them as he told Steve, "Not even pretending to fall asleep on the couch will get you out of this one."

With the boys still hanging off him, Steve started shuffling further into the house. Choosing the clearest path down the hallway to the kitchen as he asked the boys, "What do you guys wanna do tonight?"

"Watch Goosebumps!" Blaze excitedly suggested, stopping his tugging on Steve's gray undershirt and letting go of Steve's waist.

"Bake cupcakes!" Knox loudly debated, dropping from Steve's right bicep.

Since Axel didn't say anything, Steve used his brawn and swung the five year old up into his arms as he questioned, "What about you?"

Axel shrugged, so Steve decided to tickle him. As he wiggled in Steve's arms, Axel finally offered, "Arts and crafts!"

Smiling, Steve leaned forward and kissed Axel's forehead before setting him back down on the ground. Steadying him, Steve rubbed the kid's back and stopped in the entry way. Finding that the cushions had been removed from the furniture and were stacked precariously and covered with mismatched sheets.

Letting out a deep exhale, Steve reasoned, "We should clean this up first."

"Uncle Steve," the boys whined. Adding, "This isn't fun," and, "Why can't we leave it?" All the while helping Steve tear down the unsteady fort.

Folding the sheets, Steve negotiated, "We'll build another one. A sturdier one."

With that, the three boys' energies renewed. Replacing the cushions. Some not in their correct places. But that was alright. Steve would fix them later. All he cared about now was having the room in some order. It would make cleaning up at the end of the night easier.

Clapping his hands together to regain the boys' attention, Steve questioned, "Who wants to help me get dinner ready?"

"Me!" The boys chorused as they excitedly hopped around and followed Steve into the kitchen.

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thecatwhogrins · 5 years ago

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Brought Back (Part 1) (Obiyukiweek19: Kindness)

Here’s my first entry for this Obiyukiweek!

Please enjoy! :)

Shirayuki woke up in a daze in the middle of the night. The clock indicated that it was three in the morning, not exactly what she would call a reasonable time to wake up. She rubbed her eyes and stared at her room, mystified.

Something had woken her up, but what?

As she started to settle back in, a loud banging noise wrecked the silence like a bulldozer.

Shirayuki clutched her sheets, her heart beating wildly in her chest. She shrugged into her bathrobe. The infernal sound was coming from her door. Shirayuki hoped that if she pretended that she wasn’t home, whoever it was would go away. Not only was this a very strange time to knock on someone’s door, but this also reminded her of all the terrifying stories Yuzuri had told her about people getting killed while they lived alone.

The loud banging started up again, even louder than before.

Resolution replaced her fear and she made her way to the door. She silently turned on her lamp. The person knocking wasn’t letting up, and the idea of having to call the police made the stone weigh heavier in her stomach. She shuffled towards the door, hoping any of the neighbors in the apartment complex would come out to see who was making all the racket, but no one came out.

She opened the peephole and saw a tall man with gray hair and a slight scar upon his cheek staring at the door angrily. She jumped when he suddenly yelled:

“Obi! I know you’re in there! Come out here, you son of a bitch!” the stranger looked almost out of his mind. Shirayuki thought he must be drunk.

“Sir, this “Obi” you’re looking for doesn’t live here,” she called out through the door carefully.

Just as the man spoke again, one of her windows started shaking slightly. Shirayuki watched with a dry mouth as a man opened it, folding himself into the frame and unfolding himself into her living room. He was tall as well, wiry, with spiky hair, his black shirt was stained with a liquid that surely wasn’t water and his face was more bruised than a WWE fighter, swallowing his strange eyes in a valley of purple tinges.

He did not notice her right away, as he groaned in pain and uttered a silent curse when his hand brushed his swollen face.

“God damn, he did not miss my face…” he did not finish his sentence once he noticed Shirayuki, who promptly squeaked in surprise and fear.

They stood, both frozen, waiting for the other to say something first. The man’s eyes slid over her apartment, taking everything in, from her libraries filled with books to the brim, to the cozy but run-down sofa, to the lacy drapes and vast array of plants that populated most of the free square inches.

“I’m sorry miss, it seems I’ve entered the wrong apartment,” the man said, his voice calm, as if not to induce any fear into her.

Only one incredulous thought raced through Shirayuki’s head in that moment:

“We’re on the fifth floor?” she answered, bewildered, all her anxiety exploding into that one sentence.

“Oh, it seems I’m your upstairs neighbor, I live on the sixth floor,” he tried to smile but it looked more like a grimace.

Their exchange was halted when another wave of knocking came from the other man, still abusing Shirayuki’s door.

“Oh great, he followed me. I’ll lead him away, don’t worry. Sorry for… all of this,” he gestured vaguely around himself and winced as the man pounded at the door, hollering.

He bypassed her, as she stood there, trembling, but her curiosity was now blooming since the man didn’t seem to want to hurt her. Shirayuki gathered her courage and asked softly:

“Is… Is that man trying to hurt you?”

Obi seemed to pause for a moment, thinking.

“Yes… He is,” he answered, his eyes holding hers, as if to convey that he wasn’t lying. Shirayuki nodded her head resolutely and walked to the front door. This could be the worst mistake of her life, but the man didn’t seem like he wanted to hurt her, whereas the one on the other side of the door looked much more threatening.

She opened the door slightly, keeping the chain still in place, preventing the man from opening it any further.

“Hel… Hello, it seems you’ve come to the wrong apartment. Please leave, if you continue, someone might call the police…” Shirayuki looked up at him for a split second and the face she saw wore a mask of confusion and irritation.

“Ma’am, is Obi here? I saw him…” he insisted, his eyes trying to peer behind her slight silhouette, into her house.

“I don’t any person by that name, you’re mistaken sir. Now please… Please leave,” Shirayuki tried to sound as intimidating as possible.

The man glared at her. Then, with one last glance at her flat, he turned away, grumbling, towards the staircase. Shirayuki’s legs were shaking so bad she thought she might fall to the ground right then and there. She clutched her heart and almost jumped when she heard the other man move behind her, unintentionally towering over her, peeping through the peephole.

“Hm he’s gone, that’s good,” he mumbled to himself.

He then seemed to realize how close he was standing next to Shirayuki and backed off, palms up, trying to appear as unthreatening a man with a battered face could look, which wasn’t much. From up close, she could see that also had a few scars on his body, some peeking out from his shirt, others marring his face. She could tell that this man had seen a fair amount of fights.

As silence settled once more, Shirayuki didn’t know what to do. Kick the man out? But what if the other man was waiting around the corner? Shirayuki felt an impending headache loom.

She then noticed that the man was swaying slightly on his feet.

“Oh, please sit down,” she hurriedly said, motioning him towards a straw chair near the dining table. Having a stranger in ones’ house is pretty bad, but if he faints, then there will be even more trouble.

He limped towards the chair and sat rather ungracefully on it, his whole body betraying his exhaustion.

“Are… Are you Obi?” Shirayuki asked, passing him a towel full of ice she had fetched in the kitchen.

“Well, that is one of my aliases,” he explained with a smirk before adding: “And what is your name Miss?”

“It’s Shirayuki. My name’s Shirayuki,” she answered, “what just happened?”

“Um… I owed that man some money,” he smiled sheepishly. Shirayuki squinted at him, trying to figure out whether he was lying or not.

Silence draped itself over them, pleasant, if only slightly awkward. A few minutes passed in this way, Shirayuki had so many questions bouncing around in her head she wished she could ask but couldn’t find the words to do so. Obi suddenly stood up.

“Well Miss, it’s been a pleasure. Thanks for the towel and… well, saving me,” he winked, “he’s probably gone by now, so… I should probably go.”

But as soon as he took a step, he winced in pain and stumbled, falling like a log.

Shirayuki panicked, her hands hovering over his body for moment, till a groan of pain snapped her back to her senses. She turned him over, cautiously, and checked him, noticing an alarming dark stain growing on his side. Judging from the other stains, it was blood, and fresh at that. She peeled the shirt back to reveal his side and gasped in horror, he had been stabbed.

She stood up, intent on calling the ambulance, when Obi rasped: “No, it’s okay, I’ll be fine, it’s just a little cut.”

Shiaryuki scoffed and reached for the phone.

Before she could even blink, he was behind her, his callused hand lightly but firmly restraining her from using the phone.

“I promise I won’t hurt you, and I know like that sounds exactly like something someone would say just before they hurt someone, but I’d really rather not get the police involved,” he whispered.

Shirayuki could only nod, heart leaping in her chest.

“Thank you,” he sounded relieved.

He left with no other word, closing the door softly behind himself.

As soon as he left, stillness took its rightful place once more and Shirayuki stood there for a while, bewildered, before she finally went back to bed, her mind reeling. For this to happen on her only day off, she honestly believed her luck was rotten.

The next morning Shirayuki woke up, her head pounding from lack of sleep. She sleepily went to make herself a cup of tea to wake herself up, eyes half-closed, trailing her covers behind her like a fluffy cape. As she woke up more and more, memories of what happened last night came back to her, like a half-remembered dream being conjured up once again.

Shirayuki wondered if that man, Obi, was really her upstairs neighbor. She had never seen him before this. Had he just moved in recently? She was so distracted by her thoughts that she did not notice that she was running late for work.

Garack was going to kill her.

“For having had a day off yesterday, you sure do look like crap, my dude,” Yuzuri remarqued, coffee in hand.

“Thank you for pointing it out, Yuzuri,” Shirayuki sighed, her whole body felt heavy.

Working in a morgue was considered by many to be a strange job, to be of the living but also constantly working alongside death.

Shirayuki didn’t adore her job but she had grown up constantly surrounded by death and it no longer scared her or disgusted her. It was merely another chapter in the journey. treating the dead respectfully was one of the last things a living person could do to honor their memory. She had learned this very early on, thanks to the fact that her grandparents owned a funeral parlor but also due to the death of her mother.

Death was almost an old acquaintance by now.

Obi woke up in a haze, head pounding. His whole body ached, and he knew that the moment he moved it would get worse, but his stomach was aching and demanding to be fed immediately. He rolled over, basking in the blissful silence. He knew it wouldn’t last, but he hoped it would go on for a while.

Boy, was he wrong.

“Sir, if you could just tell my wife…”

“Boy, now you listen to me…”

“Please find…”

Voices swarmed him like a tidal wave, some were louder than others, permeating the air. Shutting them out wasn’t an easy option. He had learned over the years that it required a lot of concentration. Or booze. Concentration he currently did not possess, as his whole body screamed in pain from the beating of the night before and as his stomach ate itself away. And as for the alcohol, well... he could maybe arrange that.

“Shit,” he mumbled and padded into what one would have once called a kitchen, but its current state of cleanliness indicated otherwise.

The voices followed, as they always did, and Obi tried his best to ignore them.

Another day in hell, it seemed.

The thing with being a necromancer that nobody ever told him, is that yes, even though you can summon the souls the of the dead, more often than not, the dead are the ones who want to communicate. So, they find people who can hear them, and chatter away.

#obiyukiweek19 #kindness #obiyuki #fanfic #myfanfic #mentions of death #akagami no shirayukihime #ans snow white with the red hair #snow white with the red hair #necromancy au

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greerkingstcn · 5 years ago

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Only The Good Die Young ↠ Self Para

WHEN: Tuesday, September 17, 2019 WHERE: The side of I-40 WHO: Featuring Bailey Kingston, Easton McIntyre, and Detective Hector Chavez of the Albuquerque Police Department TW: Death, Overdose

“Hello?” The blonde said into the phone on the last ring before her voicemail would have kicked in, having barely heard it over the sound of the music blaring through her truck’s speakers. “Hello?” She said again once the music was turned down and she was able to hear. “Hello, can you hear me?” The gruff, unfamiliar voice filled her ear as she pulled the phone away to glance at it, an area code she didn’t recognize but her phone was telling her was from Albuquerque, New Mexico. “Yes, hi. I’m so sorry, darlin’. Had the music a little too loud. How can I help you?” She asked once she brought the phone back up to her ear, brows furrowed in slight confusion. She didn’t know anyone in New Mexico, but the ranch had guests and investors from all over the country. It could have been one of them, maybe, so she paid close attention as she awaited the man’s answer.

“That’s alright.” The voice replied, a tinge of exhaustion evident in the sigh that followed his words. “Is this, uh...” She could hear some shuffling of papers before he continued, “Greer Kingston?” Nodding her head even though she couldn’t be seen, Greer waited a beat for him to continue before she realized she had to respond verbally. “Yes. Yes, sorry. I’m Greer Kingston.” Turning off of the dirt road from the ranch and onto the highway, the blonde waived at her mother with a smile as she accelerated. “How can I help you?”

“Yes ma’am, my name is Detective Chavez with the Albuquerque Police Department. Are you related to a Bailey Kingston? Date of birth, uh...” More paper shuffling. Greer could hear her heart beating in her ears as she waited, hands gripping the steering wheel so tight that her knuckles turned white, praying the birthday he’d find wasn’t May 18, 1996. No matter the circumstances, the fact that no one in the family had heard from Bailey for three months and a detective from another state was calling her, couldn’t be good. Instantly, her mind went through various scenarios, each worse than the one before it. “May 18, 1996?” She asked, swallowing down the lump that had formed quickly in her throat. More shuffling. “Yes, 5/18/96.” He said finally, the papers stilling. “Yes sir, she’s my baby sister...” Taking in a deep breath, Greer continued on. “Is she alright? Did she get herself into some trouble down there?”

Her question was followed by a pause that seemed to last an hour, Greer’s gaze focused intently on the road ahead of her as she drove. “Ma’am, I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but your sister...” He swallowed, a poignant pause hanging between the two lines for barely a second before he continued, “She’s dead.”

Dead. As soon as the words left the detective’s lips it was as if all the air had been sucked out of Greer’s lungs. She couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe, and she pulled over on the side of the highway. Surely he couldn’t have said what she thought he said. Bailey couldn't be... no, she was only 23. Sure, she had her demons but this was Bailey. The little girl was practically indestructible. “Ma’am?” His voice broke her out of her thoughts as she cleared her throat. “Yes.” She said quietly, her voice filled with an emotion she’d never heard in it before. “I’m still here. Did...” Pausing, Greer sucked in a deep breath but it didn’t give her any relief. “I’m sorry did you say she’s dead? That’s... that’s impossible.”

“Yes ma’am, I’m sorry. She uh, she was dropped off at a hospital last night in cardiac arrest. Unfortunately, by the time she’d gotten there she’d already had two doses of Narcan and had fallen unresponsive. They couldn’t revive her... you were the emergency contact in her phone.” She hadn’t realized it, but her foot had slipped off of the break and she’d been slowly coasting down the shoulder as Detective Chavez spoke. “Narcan?” She asked, her mind racing as tears welled up in her eyes. “Did she- did she overdose?” The question left her trembling lips as the truck drifted closer to the irrigation ditch on the right. “Yes ma’am.” Came the deep reply, “Accordin’ to the tox screen it was heroin.”

Every word spoken by the stranger felt like a knife being plunged deep into her heart over and over again. “Okay.” She replied shakily, her heavy breaths filling the silence of the cab. The truck rolled over a rather large log, causing it to lurch, which startled Greer back to her reality. “Shit!” She muttered, foot slamming on the break before she threw the car in park. “Ma’am?” “Yeah, sorry. Sorry... I--” She was blinking back tears furiously as the lump in her throat grew and the weight in her stomach anchored her to the seat. “What do you need from us? What do I have to do?” She found herself asking, her brain going into an autopilot mode she didn’t realize she had. “Well, right now she’s in our city morgue. You’ll need to make arrangements for her, you can contact the Medical Examiner at 505-541-3585 to set all of that up. There’s an investigation that’s been opened up... we’re tryin’ to track down the friend who dropped her off to see if we can find out more about what happened with her. But what I’m gonna do is I’m gonna let you get your bearings about ya and I’ll text you my name and number and the police report number and we can go from there. How’s that sound?”

“That’s just fine, Detective Chavez. I’ll keep an eye out for your text and I’ll get in touch with you tomorrow if that’s alright... I have to go tell my mama and my daddy.” She tried to keep her voice as steady as possible as she spoke, but the weight of the news was quickly crashing down on her and she wasn’t sure how much longer she’d be able to have this conversation. The reality of the situation was hitting her hard, like a freight train right into her gut, and it was making it harder and harder for the blonde to focus. “Yes ma’am. Tomorrow will be just fine.”

“Alright, thank you. You have a nice day, now.” She hung up the phone without waiting for a response and set it down in the seat next to her, both hands now gripping the steering wheel tightly as she stared straight ahead. She sat there like that, her breathing becoming more labored as her eyes fixed on the seemingly never ending road ahead of her, for what felt like hours until finally Greer Kingston broke. A loud, unearthly wail left her lips as her shoulders sagged and her head hung, sobs echoing off of her ribs as a mixture of grief, guilt and anger spilled out of her. Every single thing she’d feared since Bailey’s fight with their mother and subsequent radio silence four months ago had come true in the span of a ten minute phone call and she could feel it. Every last horrible inch of it. It was worse than she could ever have imagined, worse than any pain she’d ever felt, and it was vast. A black hole that had opened up and sucked her inside, causing her heart to shatter into a billion pieces and her body to ache in a way she hadn’t ever known to be possible.

And there she sat, on the side of I-40, sobbing until there was nothing left in her. She didn’t know for how long, but when she was finally able to catch her breath and it seemed as if all she’d run out of tears to cry, Greer lifted her head and saw the sun setting out of her passenger’s side window. The amber glow illuminated the inside of the cab and with a shaky breath, Greer wiped her cheeks with the back of her hands. She had to get off of the side of the road. She had to go home and tell her family... she had to break the news to them. She had to be strong. But as she put the truck in drive, Easton’s voice echoed in her ears. ‘Auntie Greer, when is my mommy coming to get me?’ And the tears came again, her right foot stomping on the gas as the back tires spun before gaining traction and the truck took off, but instead of heading home Greer was heading towards town.

#self para #( ft. bailey kingston )#death tw #overdose tw #drugs tw #this started off as a starter for ian #but then morphed into this #so now i have to go write that #tldr; greer's little sister died in new mexico #and she just found out #kbye #i suck at writing emotions

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ask-de-writer · 4 years ago

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SEA DRAGON’S GIFT : Part 74 of 83 : World of Sea

Return to the Master Story Index

Return to World of Sea

SEA DRAGON’S GIFT

Part 74 of 83

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

140406 words

written 2007

Reproduction in any form, physical, electronic or digital is prohibited without the express consent of the author.

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All sorts of fan art, cosplay, music or fiction is actively encouraged.

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New to the story? Read from the beginning. PART 1 is here

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“True, Captain Sarfin,” the Dragon answered. “I will leave the management of the whole case to your wisdom. Sula is wise in the Law also. And you both have compassion. With your permission, Mecat and I and perhaps a few others would like to observe the case as you try it.”

“It would be an honor,” said Sarfin. “How is your mate? I haven’t seen Mecat since your wedding, under the Dragon Moons.”

“She is well, thank you. Mecat has been visiting Kurin as much as she can since Kurin got to the Dragon Sea.” With that, the huge Dragon slipped silently beneath the waves and was gone.

Huld had been allowing the Soaring Bird to drift while the conversation with the Dragon went on. Now, to the sound of horns, the ship got underway and closed with the Longin’s free side. After the three ships were tied together, Sula, Sarfin and Huld went aboard the Longin to pay their respects and inquire just what in the name of all Dragons was going on.

Chapter 26: Trial

The Dark Dragon arrived while the unsetting Arctic sun was at its nadir, producing a ghostly light that filtered through low, broken clouds. The powerful hunter ship’s proud sails were filled tight like claws full of wind. The huge war catapult was carefully unloaded and released from its tension. All of the other preparations for conflict were undone with the same care and hunting blocks were again placed into the smaller catapults, rendering them nearly useless for battle. Long Wing Ray fang knives were handed back into the ship’s armory along with pikes, spears and crossbows.

Sula knew exactly how her ship was disarming and Sarfin now had some idea of what was involved. He had seen much of the arming after all, and had watched a similar process of disarmament aboard the Soaring Bird.

Two other watchers had some idea of what they were seeing and were vastly relieved that this ship was coming in peace. Barad and Captain Tanlin. “Remember, Luve, wen ye said t’at we ‘ad naught t’ fear so long as t’ese twain were nae ‘unting us?” Tanlin asked thoughtfully.

“Indeed I do,” Barad replied soberly, “and now they are both here and we are the hunted. Yet I fear them less than the Naral fleet judge.”

That ‘morning’ as the sun climbed up and the light got better, tables and benches were set out on the deck of the Soaring Bird. One table was for Sarfin to sit at, the sole judge, as requested by Kurin’s note. Another table, close to the first, was for Sula, at Dark Iren’s request. A third table was for Captains Urson and Farrol. Urson as witness to the trial for the Council and Farrol as prosecutor. Kurin, Barad and Tanlin occupied a fourth table at the focus of the other three.

The formalities of the opening droned on, who was there, the purpose of the meeting, and all of the rest that the official record needed. Kurin listened, fidgeted and wound her fine white hair about a finger, and leafed through her impressive stack of case notes.

At last came the meat of the event. “The Specification of Charges against the Ship known as Grandalor and her Captain Barad, officers and crew,” Sarfin read. Kurin became very still, listening intently. Quietly, so as not to disturb the humans at their works, Great Sea Dragons began to surface about the Soaring Bird. In only moments, all five of the Greatest of the Great Sea Dragons were staring intently at the trial being played out before them. This audience made Captain Sarfin as edgy as a crab out of water.

Still, he forged ahead, “The First Charge is of the attempted murder of Kurin Behar Longin and the murder of the sailor Garfin Halin Grython by means of a poisonous Ord spine. The Second Charge is Flight from the Justice of the Naral fleet. The Third Charge is of piracy against the Fauline. There is also a Council Requirement for Knowledge ordering the opening of the Grandalor’s logs and all other records to determine what other charges may be in order.”

Kurin got to her feet and faced Captain Sarfin, the judge. “If it is alright with you, I can settle that last point now. As I know that you are aware, I never forget anything that I read. I have read every written thing aboard the Grandalor. I will stipulate the necessary charges. Specifically, and first, the counterfeiting of Naral fleet ship’s scrip. Second, for the last twenty two Gatherings, the Grandalor has traded in Human Indentures with the Arrakan fleet. Thirdly, the Grandalor has attacked two ships of the Naral fleet. The Fauline was rammed shortly before the recent Coriolis storm. The repairs that enabled the Fauline to survive were done by the Grandalor. The charge of piracy is denied entirely. The Longin was attacked here in the Dragon Sea, just days ago. Repairs to the Longin are still on going, financed and supplied by the Grandalor.”

The stipulations appeared to bother Sarfin a great deal. “If you are going to be the Grandalor’s advocate in these matters, Kurin, shouldn’t you try to minimize this? These charges of slavery and piracy will force executions and Scattering if they hold up at all.”

Kurin answered briskly, “Our defense will show both the reason and the legality of the issues in each case.

“In regard to the charge of counterfeiting, the Grandalor will plead guilty. Captain Barad, Mister Morgu, the Purser, and a few of the crew under his direction carried out the operation. Many sailors passed the notes. Though they suspected that the notes were counterfeit, they simply followed orders. Only those who ordered them to pass the notes and those who made the notes were actually guilty.

“Now, Captain Sarfin, I have a question for you. At which Council were the counterfeits declared illegal?”

Sarfin was dumbfounded. “It has been discussed for the last five Gatherings but there were technicalities in the way of a resolution. It is theft. It was never declared illegal, per se. The Pursers met to discuss a means of ending the problem since the Council seemed unable to accomplish anything.”

Kurin leaned back in her chair, well pleased that her first point had gone home. “Hence, this issue is a civil matter. I have ordered that the Grandalor pay immediate restitution to every wronged ship. You are in the proper legal position to levy appropriate fines. I suggest that each wronged ship receive twice their losses with a like amount going to the Naral fleet.”

Sarfin shook his head, “Kurin, you are the Grandalor’s advocate. You can suggest payment. You cannot require it. Only the Court can do that.”

At this, Tanlin raised her hands for recognition. When Sarfin indicated that she might speak, she said, “Wit’ due respect, Ca’tain Sarfin, ye are wrong.” She held out for Sarfin’s inspection a bound sheaf of parchments. “We all surrendered our ship, possessions, accounts an’ every ot’er t’ing on t’e Grandalor t’ Kurin as sole owner an’ possessor. We also rendered personal surrender documents, surrenderin’ t’ ‘er an’ ‘er alone. I’ we refuse any order o’ ‘ers ‘twould be a mutiny an’ we ‘ave already suffered ane o’ t’ose.”

Sarfin looked over the bundle of parchment as if it might explode. He said critically, “The Council still has a one share legal interest in the Grandalor, as it does in every other ship in the fleet for taxation purposes.”

Kurin lolled back in her chair and said, “Look at the date of those papers. When the surrender was taken, the Grandalor was still under the Edict, as no copy of the rescission of warrant had arrived here. I quote from the Edict, ‘the reward for capture shall be the ship itself and all goods and accounts aboard, whatsoever.’ As she was stricken from the fleet rolls at the time, the Naral fleet has no claim whatsoever on her resources. When my ship is properly reinstated under command that is satisfactory to me, I will happily cede the proper single share to the Naral fleet.”

TO BE CONTINUED

<==PREVIOUS NEXT==>

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#SEA DRAGON’S GIFT #Part 74 of 83 #World of Sea #Written by De Writer

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1000roughdrafts · 6 years ago

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Movie Monsters - Pt. 2

Summary: you’re paired up with Dean to investigate a new monster, but as usual, things don’t go as planned.

A/N: written for @spndeanbingo and this is part 2/2- this one is a little longer, but I’m pretty proud of this little piece so I hope you like it :)

Square Filled: enemies to lovers

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings; spn style violence, maybe some cussing, angst, fluff,

Part 1

•••

The headache has simmered down into a light pang, but you decide to let Dean take the lead as planned. To see the man in action… you are not disappointed. Watching him speak in a professional fashion, with a please and a thank you, standing up straight, shaking hands and being respectful - you didn’t think he had it in him.

Being pleasantly surprised is always better than being irrationally let down by expectations you assumed, and were gleaming at the change of pace.

Making your way into the autopsy room, one of the doctors nodded you in the direction of the latest victim. Despite this not being your first time in a morgue, you are never prepared for that acrid stench. Your nose scrunches up as you enter the room, stretching gloves over your hands.

Dean holds the chart in his gloved hands, looking it over with an analytical glower. “So it says here,”he pauses. You look up to him, anticipation in your eyes. He clears his throat, “that uh, ‘brain matter and fluids’ were ‘extracted and removed’ from the brain, leaving a small hole behind the ear,” he reads.

You move to where he stands, bending over to inspect the hold underneath the woman’s hair, just behind her ear as stated. “So, they’re taking on aspects of a Wraith, too?” You pull your self to stand up straight, looking down the woman’s body. “It would make sense,” you shrug.

“The only thing we know about these Movie Monsters so far is that they provoke fear in their victims by putting them in the center of a horror movie, so” you say, stepping down towards the woman’s feet to inspect her toes. “So maybe after the victim experiences the most terrifying part of their ‘nightmare’ this half Wraith, half Djinn pulls them out and sucks down the fear juice.”

Dean is silent, eyes plastered onto you as you lightly rub the woman’s toe, inspecting for more injection points. When you don’t get an answer from him, you stand up straight, looking on at him, “what?” you say.

“Nothing,” he shrugs, folding down his lips.

Remembering your notebook, your mouth falls open. Ripping off your gloves you toss them into the trash and reach into Dean’s chest pocket for a pen. Pulling your notebook from your back pocket, you begin to scribble down your first log of notes.

Wraith + Djinn = Movie Monster

fluids extracted from brain and between toes

placed in horror movie scenarios

What they have in common (kill wise)

“Let’s go,” you say to Dean quickly. Without giving him time to respond, you jog out of the morgue to lean yourself against the Impala.

“Are you gonna explain what’s goin’ on in your pretty little head?” He asks, arms and palms open and facing upwards.

“Not if you call it pretty, or - or little,” you say, looking up from your notebook. “Also, if you don’t know by now, there’s no helping you,” you giggle.

“I get where this is going, Y/N, but you gotta at least explain the notebook,” he says.

“This was just a gift. I’m using it to track my thoughts, it’s not a big deal,” you say quickly. Holding the notebook out to him, you point at the page with his pen, “look.”

What they have in common (kill wise)

Silver, mirrors, severe trauma - wraith

Silver and lamb blood, extreme brain damage, angels, high-tier demons,

silver (add lamb blood for good measure)

severe trauma (brain damage preferably)

“Okay,” he says slowly. “You thinkin’ uh - “ he moves his hands around, excitedly scrunching his face, “we just find a silver knife, drench it in some lamb blood and give one good thrust through the attic and bam, we got ‘em?”

You stare at him, blinking slowly before taking the notebook and closing it up, “yeah. You don’t think so?” You say, surprising yourself with the sudden need for his approval.

“No, actually, I uh -” he chuckles, running a hand down his chin, “I’m actually kind of upset I didn’t think of it first.”

You stick out your tongue just barely, laughing before plopping into the Impala. You watch him in the side view mirror, as he hangs his head in a crinkly eyed smile, shaking his head once before sitting in the driver’s seat.

“So,” he says, slamming his hands against the steering wheel, wrapping his fingers around it. “Where to now, boss?” he smirks.

“Let’s not call me that,” you laugh, but quickly form your lips into a line, reminding yourself of his haughty and self absorbed nature. “But since you asked, I think our first plan of action is to head back to the motel and I’ll call Sam on the way there.”

His eyes linger on the side of your face for a few long seconds with his mouth hung open to speak, but no words come out.

“What now, Dean?” you frown, “you got a better idea?” you snap, watching his lips fold down and head shake before putting the car into gear and heading forward.

You sigh, pulling your phone out to call the younger Winchester. He answers on the second ring, “hi, Sam. What’ve you figured out so far?”

“Nothing much, really.” You bite your lip as he speaks, impatiently waiting for your turn to spill. “It’s like you said, there’s not a lot of information out there with this creature being so new,” he sighs. “Not even online.”

“Okay, you will not believe what I’ve discovered.” Dean elbows your arm. You roll your eyes, and let out a breath, “okay, what we discovered,” you say loudly. Holding your hand over the speaker, you lower your voice, “it was mostly me, Dean just wants to feel special,” you giggle.

“Sounds like you two are gett-” is all you hear before Dean snatches the device from your hand.

“Gimme that,” he growls. “We beat you, Sammy! How does it feel?” he cackles.

You could almost picture the eye rolling Sam is most likely giving right now and then the soft sound of his voice, “it’s not a competition, De-”

“It is now,” he says before hanging up and tossing the phone into your lap, giggling heartily at his own jokes - if one could call them that.

Reaching the motel, you exit the car before him and head for the door. Pushing it open, you plop down at the desk with your notebook and pen in front of you.

Wraith + Djinn = Movie Monster

fluids extracted from brain and between toes

placed in horror movie scenarios

What they have in common (kill wise)

Silver, mirrors, severe trauma - wraith

Silver and lamb blood, extreme brain damage, angels, high-tier demons,

silver (add lamb blood for good measure)

severe trauma (brain damage preferably)

Tapping the pen against the pages, you bite down on your lip. Without looking in his direction, you throw questions and random comments at Dean, who mostly deflects them with a wave or one worded answers.

“Okay, Dean,” you say, twisting your body around to face him as he sits on your bed to take off his boots. You cock your head to the side, “er- that’s my bed,” you say blandly pointing a finger at it.

He looks at the mattress beside and behind him, folding his lips down with a shrug, “so?”

Standing, you tighten your face, “so? Come on, Dean. I’m trying to keep some form of professionalism here,” you unintentionally whine. Pointing over at his unmade bed, you add, “and it looks like we have different forms of ‘clean’,” you say.

He relaxes his grip on the laces, holding a palm up at you, “woah, okay. I’m just taking off my boots.That really so bad?”

You take in a deep breath, “I guess… not, but -” you close your eyes, “please just stay off of my side from here on out.”

It isn’t necessarily the dirt or uncleanliness of the eldest Winchester that bothers you, nor are you upset that he chose your bed to begin his undressing. It is that he has a smell to him - a virile musk - that draws you in, makes you imagine him in different scenarios and every one of them end the same; a kiss. You can’t afford to fall for another hunter, especially not one of the Winchester’s.

You sit back down to focus on your notes, ignoring the huffs that come from behind you as he tosses his boots by the door and locks himself in the bathroom.

By the time he’s finished with his night routine, you’ve passed out with your face resting against your arms on the table. A small, half smile forms on his lips before he rolls up his sleeves to take you in his arms. He gently sets you down onto the bed, and rolls the blankets up to your neck.

Brushing the hair from your face, he leans in just slightly. “Good night, sweetheart,” he whispers.

He jolts back at your unforeseen response, “thank you, Dean,” you say with closed eyes, yawning before rolling over in the bed.

•••

Another mundane morning takes it’s routine; Dean waking you up with coffee and mentioning something about not being a morning person himself, but having difficulties sleeping lately. Honestly, you barely paid attention to him as he spoke. He clearly had his coffee and you were not ready for the depth of a conversation he was laying out.

After pouring yourself the last bit of coffee, your stomach gurgles. You press your hand into it, trying to keep it from yelling again.

“Sounds like we should get some grub,” he suggests.

You turn to face him with the empty pot still in your hand, faking a pout, “and we’re out of coffee,” you say, exaggerating your drawl.

Dean throws on his jacket, tossing yours into your hands. You slip your arms into the sleeves as he grabs his keys. Following behind him, you slip your notebook into your pocket and the stolen pen in your jacket.

•••

After ordering and receiving your food, you pull your journal out, slipping bacon into your mouth by the slice, and taking in the smell of syrup and coffee that fills the diner.

Dean waves a hand, chewing on his food, “no,” he says before swallowing the thick bread of a waffle and sipping on his third cup of joe for the day. “Come on, can we just enjoy our food before talkin’ about brain sucking monsters,” he quietly barks.

You give him a false smile, leaning in, “I don’t know what you think this is, Dean, but it’s certainly not a vacation. So I can do this by myself or include you, but I’m going to keep working on this with every second I get,” you say, bringing your eyes back to the pages.

Wraith + Djinn = Movie Monster

fluids extracted from brain and between toes

placed in horror movie scenarios

What they have in common (kill wise)

Silver, mirrors, severe trauma - wraith

Silver and lamb blood, extreme brain damage, angels, high-tier demons,

silver (add lamb blood for good measure)

severe trauma (brain damage preferably)

How do the movie monsters lure in their victims?

“Fine,” he barks, leaning against the seat. He points his fork in your direction, lifting his eyebrows, “but you’re buying me a pie for my troubles,” he says with a wink.

Rolling your eyes, you keep an arm on the table, “okay, so what I’m trying to figure out is how they get their victims. Wraith seem to be more comfortable in asylums, but-”

“Djinn like ruins - the bigger the better,” he says.

“Yeah,” you say slowly, squinting your eyes.

Looking up at you, he tilts his head, “Sammy and I were huntin’ one few years back. Just stuck with me,” he shrugs again, shoving another large bit of waffle into his mouth.

“Right,” you chuckle. “So, I guess that’s another connection; they both like to stay hidden, good. What else?” you ask, a bit too eager as Dean looks up at you with rounded and bulging cheeks.

You let out another giggle, letting yourself enjoy this one. He attempts to smile, but fails miserably as small pieces of the sugary breakfast fall from his lips. The waitress makes her way over to the table, asking how you are.

“I’m great,” you start, “this one here would appreciate a pie, however.”

You laugh again as Dean forces the food down his throat just enough to croak out two words and a smile, “cherry, please.”

The waitress laughs, giving the table one tap before heading back into the kitchen.

“Both Wraiths and Djinn can pass as human,” you utter to yourself. “Only Wraiths can’t be seen in a mirror, and Djinn can, right?” Dean nods, although it’s clear he hasn’t a clue what you are saying. “And with our Wraith-Djinn combo, it’s safe to say that the horror movie is not a dream or alternate dimension, right? Which would meant that they need a large-ish space to orchestrate that, wouldn’t you say?” He nods again, taking another fork to his mouth. “Come on. I’m doing all of the heavy lifting here. It feels like you’re not even paying attention,” you nag.

“Excuse me, Y/N, but I haven’t eaten in,” he pauses, mentally tallying the days since his last mean, “too damn long, can I just enjoy this?”

“I haven’t really eaten in a few days, either, Dean. But here I am, basically doing everything,” you scold, cutting it short when the waitress arrives with his pie.

Dean holds his eyes to yours, the mossy green swirls around in contemplations, “actually, miss,” he says, holding a finger at the brunette woman. “Would you put this in a to-go container for me?” he says with a wink.

He watches her walk away with a smile, but when he looks into the service mirror hanging behind the front desk he notices it. It was the same all those years back; the pretty, dark haired girl with an absent reflection. He tenses, but does not let on about his concerns until the beauty is completely out of sight.

Leaning in to you, he stretches himself to get as near as possible to whisper to you. He decides against it and twirls your notebook around to face him, with trust me eyes as he grabs the pen.

Pushing the book back to face you, you eyes go wide when you read the words; Waitress is the monster. You slam the pages shut and look around you. Taking a few deep breaths, you try to calm your nerves, focusing in on the light music playing in the background. Loudly, you speak out, “you should text Sam, tell him about how great this place is,” you nudge, raising an eyebrow.

He nods, pulling his phone out slowly.

Dean: this gig really put us in a funky town, Sam.

Sam replies immediately: be there soon.

•••••

“They’re in trouble, Bobby,” Sam shouts, running down the hallway to the desk in Bobby’s office. He hands him his phone, “this is the text I just got.”

“Oh boy,” Bobby exhales. “What do you know about the monster?”

“Uh, it’s some sort of mixture between a Djinn and a, uh-“ he pauses, scrunching his face as he attempts to remember.

His phone pings again, a picture of your journal lights up on his screen.

“Okay, so it looks like they figured out how to take it out, and,” he blows air out of his lips, letting them rattle against each other, “unfortunately how they catch their prey.” Looking up at Bobby, he slips the phone in his pocket. “You got any silver or lambs blood laying around?”

“You bet your ass I do,” Bobby declares, twirling around to head over to his potions and weapons hutch.

•••

You’ve never seen the movie Saw, but apparently Dean has enough times to know that you’re trapped in a scene from one. Your hands chained to the blank and decaying walls, only a prison style toilet in the corner and a key in the center of the room. You’ve been given a crayon and a small piece of paper with a riddle typed onto it; your way of escaping the chains. Dean says that’s one part that’s different from the movies.

You suggest a different strategy. You figure your wrists are small enough to twist out of the chain, you could wiggle yourself free, grab the key to get Dean out of his grasp and make a run for it.

He squints at you, “but that’s against the rules. I thought you were one to follow those.”

“I care about following rules that make sense. Rules that are put in place to keep a decent standard for people. Rules that still allow people to have basic human rights. These rules? They’re debilitating. You think we’re gonna survive this is we follow the damn rules, Dean?”

“Absolutely not,” he shakes his head, looking around the bare walls.

“Well If you’re not ready to accept the risks then you have no business coming with me. I’m going. I’m escaping and I’m gonna kill that son of a bitch that put us in here,” You shout. “Or maybe we can just figure this damn riddle out and get to the next step. Any suggestions?” You say, accidentally lurching forward and wincing at the pain of the chains tightening against your wrists.

“How am I supposed to know? It’s a mystery to me, too,” he shouts back.

“Oh I thought you were Mr. I Know Everything. And I Don’t Need Directions,” you say, rolling your eyes, learning your lesson from the last time you tried moving.

“That was that one time, Y/N. Besides, this is nothing compared to that. This is a puzzle that we have to solve in… less than ten minutes or else we die.”

“Yeah, I get that,” you force out with a breath.

“So shut up and throw me that damn crayon,” he growls.

You squint your eyes at him, holding the crayon in your fist, “what makes you think you can solve the riddle?”

His face softens, and he looks down into his lap, “let’s just say I’ve learned a few things over the last few days,” he sighs.

Your eyes widen. Looking down at the riddle, you wonder if his is the same as yours. “Uh, Dean is ‘I can be blind, I can be powerful, I can be difficult, deep, complicated, and tender at the same time. What am I?’ your riddle, too.”

His eyes are shut now, his head leaning against the concrete block on the wall that’s smeared and painted in a red coating that you can only assume is blood. “Yeah,” he says casually.

You hold your breath, heartbeat fluttering but not at the near-death experience, you’re used to those by now, but what he could have learned that’s related to this riddle. “What-“ you start, but gulp down the words. “What’s the answer, Dean? It’s a lot easier for me to just write it, then for me to toss this over to you and-“

“The answer is love, Y/N,” he says, opening his eyes, keeping them warm and glossy. “You’re blind of my attempts to swoon you, you’re more powerful than you give yourself credit for. You are way more than difficult,” he chuckles. “But you’re deep, complicated, and tender at the same time,” he says. With a shrug, he adds, “so while love might not be the correct answer it sure is how I feel about you and you are all of those things.”

You keep silent for a long while before looking away from him or writing the word onto the page. You take your time with the crayon, perfecting the ‘L’ before moving onto the other letters. You just pray that he’s right… you could deal with his confession if you make it out alive.

When you finish the word, you tighten your eyes shut in anticipation for the Movie Monster to enter the room. Instead, you hear grunting and yelling just outside the door. You and Dean wiggle in your chains, shaking your bodies against the blood covered walls and paying no mind to the cuts on your wrists from the metal digging into them.

“Sam!” You call out, eyes closed and head pressed up against the wall.

You and Dean call out together now, “Sam! Sammy!” You repeat it until there’s a pounding on the door, followed by Sam falling into the room covered in blood.

“Sam! Oh my gosh, are you okay?” You squeak.

He ignores you, grunting as he pulls himself to his feet with the help of Bobby. Bobby grabs the key, running to unlock you while Sam looks Dean over. After tossing the key over to Sam, who catches it with ease, Bobby grips onto you and pulls you into his arms. The four of you run out of the warehouse, stepping over three dead Movie Monsters and sprint for the Impala.

•••

You blot your wrists with a rag that Bobby had given you, tightening your grip each time a tear tries to escape and tightening even more when Dean’s word echo in your mind; “you’re blind of my attempts to swoon you; you’re more powerful than you give yourself credit for. You are way more than difficult, but you’re deep, complicated, and tender all at the same time. So while life might not be the correct answer it sure is how I feel about you and you are all of those things.”

You close your eyes, letting your head fall against side of Bobby’s truck. Dean’s voice pulls you from your thoughts, somewhat startling you back into reality.

“I guess we’ll never know the answer to that riddle, will we?” He says, chuckling softly.

You ignore him, keeping your eyes on his feet, “did you really mean the things you said or was that -“ you shake your head, it had to be part of a show.

He steps closer to you, bringing his bloody hands to the side of your face, “sweetheart,” he gives you that cocky smile that you once admittedly despised, but now you can’t help but to blush. “I don’t say things I don’t mean,” he says softly as he plants his chapped lips against yours, pulling you deeper into him when you accept the embrace.

If you’ve learned anything from your adventure with Dean it’d be to never judge a book by its cover. Being a bookworm, you couldn’t help but to look at the cover of people to decide if they were worth your while. But much like a few of your favorite books you’d merely given a small chance, sometimes surprises can be wonderful.

Forever tags:

@waywardblueshun @fangirl490

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