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topazy · 5 months ago

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Teen spirit

Pairing: Carl Grimes × reader, Maggie Greene × sister reader

Warnings: Swearing, violence

Chapter: 6.05

Leaning against the window in Carl’s bedroom, you stare up at the night sky and count the stars. You know Carl is watching you across the hall from the other room as he rocks Judith to sleep, but you can’t bring yourself to look at him because he would see the tears in your eyes.

Your fingers gently touch the delicate cross hanging around your neck. Maggie, Rick, and the others had returned and were currently having a meeting in the house next door. Your sister had briefly returned from visiting another community called Hilltop; she negotiated with their leader, Gregory, and somehow ended up agreeing to take out another community called The Saviours, which was run by a very dangerous man, Negan.

You hated it.

You hated everything about it.

Sneaking into other communities and killing people who hadn’t done anything to your group isn’t who you are. Daryl and Rick tried to reassure you this was the only way, but it just didn’t seem right.

You sense a presence behind you; “they were only meant to trade for food. Not to become hired hitmen.”

Carl doesn’t say anything. You wonder if he’s feeling just as confused and scared, especially since his dad was leading the group that would be leaving in a few hours.

“What if something goes wrong and they don’t come back? Or the Saviour’s retaliate and come here? Who’s going to defend this place? Me, you, Judith?”

He chuckles at the last part, “She’d be a better aim than some of the people in Alexandra.”

“Is Judith asleep?”

“Yeah.”

You spin round and aren’t surprised to see how close he’s standing behind you. Placing your hands on either side of his face, you smash your lips against Carl’s. He seems slightly stunned at first, then kisses you back.

When your lips eventually part, Carl pulls you in for a hug and kisses your forehead, “I won’t let anything happen to you or Judy, I promise.”

—

You weren’t exactly sure what happened when most of your group went to go hunt the saviors, but none of them had come back the same.

“Heard you’re going on a supply run.”

You don’t reply.

“Still giving me the cold shoulder?”

You glare at Abraham, “You’re a real asshole, you know that?”

The redhead frowns, “Since when did you become a little shit? Got something you want to get off your chest? Now is the time.”

Sitting on the front porch, you continue lacing up your boots, finding it hard to look at him. You liked Abraham, which is why hearing him being so horrible to someone so kind was shocking. “I overheard you breaking up with Rosita; she didn’t deserve to be spoken to like that.”

Before Abraham can respond, Eugene calls him over, and you get up and go to go meet Denise just as she’s walking out of the medical clinic. Denise had managed to convince Rosita and Daryl to take her on a supply run not far from your community to go get medical supplies.

“Hey, you ready?”

“Yeah, are you sure Maggie is fine with this? I don’t want her chasing me with a large wooden spoon when we get back.”

“Trust me, she’s fine with it.”

At first your sister was hesitant, but she trusted Daryl to keep you safe. Besides, Glenn agreed keeping you locked behind a large wall wouldn’t do you any good in the long run. If you forgot what it was like to be on the other side, you’d become sloppy when it came to killing walkers.

—

You mentally curse yourself for not wearing a waterproof jacket. As soon as you got out of the truck, the heavy rainfall started. A tree had fallen on the road blocking it, so the four of you walked along train tracks until you reached the small outlet mall.

The buildings look abandoned; the windows had been paneled up with wood and had bloody handprints covering them.

Daryl knocks on the door to see if anything moves inside. When he doesn’t hear anything, he hands you one of his guns. “The two of you stay back while we check it out.”

The shop smells a mixture of dampness and death. While you look for anything that seems useful, Daryl and Rosita stock up on medication from the store's pharmacy.

Denise shines her torch over at a door. “What’s that?”

You stop moving and listen to a thudding sound. “It’s just one of them,” Daryl says. “Sounds like it’s stuck.”

You resume looking around and out a few bars of soap and shampoo into your backpack. You turn to ask Denise if she wants to bring some back, but she’s gone. “Where…” you notice the door the knocking sound was coming from is open and go after her, “Denise?”

Your stomach sinks the moment you see a baby’s crib that has mould growing on it. Turning the corner, you see Denise standing over a rotten-looking walker. The man must have broken his leg before the apocalypse, and the clumpy white cast on his leg is why he stayed in the one location. You pull the blade from your belt and stab the walker in the head. “We need to go.”

Denise shines her torch over the wall, and the word ‘hush’ is written all over it in red pen. “Come on,” you try to pull her back. “This is like being a freakin’ horror; we need to go.”

Ignoring you, she shines the torch further down till it lands on a sink that’s almost overflowing; it takes you a few seconds to realize what’s inside it. Denise runs out of the room and straight into a counter, knocking broken glass off it. You run out behind her and vomit just as you reach the doorway.

Denise leaves the store. Rosita comes over and rubs your back while you continue to throw up, “What the hell are you doing?”

You point down the doorway, “Don’t go in there.”

“Why what’s back there?” Daryl asks, alarmed.

You vomit again, thinking of the sink overflowing with blood and sludge. You wipe tears away from the corners of your eyes. “There’s a dead kid in the sink. Can’t be much older than Judith.”

—

The sun shines again as you walk back to the truck, drying in the dampness of your clothing. The walk back was mainly in silence, aside from the occasional small talk.

Hearing a commotion from behind, you look back and see Denise struggling to fight off a walker. You had been so caught up on your thoughts that you didn’t even notice she was gone. Daryl and Rosita rush over to help, but by the time they reach her, she’s killed the walker.

You keep watching as Daryl and Denise start to argue; you were paranoid their raised voices would attract the dead.

“Who gives a shit? You could’ve died killing those saviors, both of you, but you didn’t. You wanna live; you take chances. That’s how it works. That’s what I did.”

“For a couple of damn sodas?” Daryl asks, sounding unimpressed.

“Nope,” she picks up a can of soda and walks by them. “Just this one.”

You hand back to walk with Daryl on the train tracks as Rosita catches up with Denise. “Are you seriously that stupid?”

“Are you?” Denise stops walking and stands in front of her. “I mean it. Are you? Do you have any clue what that was to me or what this whole thing is to me? See, I have training in this shit. I’m not making it up as I go along, like with the ditches and the surgery and the...” she trails off and looks directly at Daryl. “I asked you to come with me because you’re brave like my brother, and sometimes you actually make me feel safe. And, shut Y/n, you’re just a kid and more fearless than me. The way you followed me into that room and took out that walker? I wouldn’t have been able to do that. Rosita, I wanted you here because you’re alone. Probably for the first time in your life. And because you’re stronger than you think.”

You’re taken aback; this supply run meant far more to Denise than you realized.

“And because you’re stronger than you think you are, which gives me hope that maybe I can be, too.”

You look over Denise’s shoulder while she continues to talk; you can see movements in the trees on the opposite side of the tracks. “I think—”

An arrow goes through Denise’s eye. Daryl shoves you behind him and raises his gun as a group of at least ten men appear.

“Drop your weapons now!”

A man with dirty blonde hair and a large burn mark on his face drags Eugene over and forces him onto his knees. You notice the man has Daryl’s crossbow.

“Get your fucking hands off me!” You hiss when a man starts patting you down for weapons.

“The little one is awfully feisty,” the man laughs. “I’m Dwight; what’s your name?”

“Hey,” Rosita snaps. “You don’t talk to her, ever.”

Dwight finds her reaction amusing, “Fine. So, what’s your name?”

“Rosita. What do you want?”

“Well, Rosita… It’s not what I want. It’s what you and Daryl and the kid are going to do. You’re going to let us into your little complex. It looks like it’s just beautiful there. And there you’re going to let us take whatever and whoever we want.” He pats Eugene, who looks terrified on the shoulder. “Then we will blow Eugene's brains out then yours.”

You think Maggie, Carl, Judith, Glenn—all the people you wouldn’t get to see again. All the people you’d most likely die trying to protect. You just hope it’s worth it.

“If you wanna kill someone, you start with our companion.” Eugene looks over at metal barrels that were nearby. “He’s hiding over there behind the oil barrels. He’s a first-class a-hole, and he deserves it so much more than us four.”

You step back, waiting to see if anything happens. Abraham had left your community with Eugene, and although he was an asshole you didn’t want him to die. Daryl suitably signals for you to get ready to get down.

Eugene suddenly lunges forward and bites Dwight’s dick through his jeans, and Abraham comes from the opposite direction and starts firing at the men.

You take cover behind a car and start firing at the men. You scream, feeling a sudden sharp pain in your side, and fall backwards. You had been so preoccupied by shooting the walkers that you had been attracted by the noise you didn’t notice the man coming up behind you. The bastard had stabbed you. When you start shouting at him, he quickly runs away.

Dwight falls to the ground and yells for the remaining men to fall back, but they still continue to fire as they run away.

Rosita notices what’s happened and rushes over, ducking to avoid stray bullets. She takes her belt off and puts it around your stomach, pulling it tightly. “Y/N and Eugene are hurt!”

The pain is so intense your vision starts to blur and your eyes become heavy. The last thing you remember is Daryl scooping you into his arms while Abraham and Rosita help Eugene.

#the walking dead #carl grimes x fem reader #carl grimes x fem!reader #carl grimes/reader #carl grimes x y/n #the walking dead fanfic #the walking dead x reader #teen spirit #teen wolf 6.05 #carl grimes #carl grimes fanfiction #carl grimes fanfic #carl grimes x reader

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sjsmith56 · 2 months ago

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A Better Man, Part 6 - Transformation

Summary: The renovation on Andrea’s house finally begins. As the transformation of Barnes Contracting gets underway, Mrs. Parker brings up regulatory aspects they have to follow. Bucky returns home to find Andrea in bed, sick, so he takes care of her and Lily.

Length: 5.9 K

Characters: Steve, Sam, Thor, Mrs. Parker, Bucky, Andrea, Winnifred.

Warnings: Steve being suspicious. Symptoms of mastitis discussed. Andrea feeling too sick to look after Lily and Bucky worries about her.

Author notes: Some changes are happening, both openly and behind the scenes. Is it foreshadowing? Maybe.

<<Part 5

Part 6

With the rest of the stolen inventory delivered, Bucky, Steve, and Sam began transforming Barnes Contracting into a legal renovation company. While Bucky supervised the four men who moved the rest of Andrea's belongings into storage, he went up on the ladder to check the exterior brick façade, finding it in good condition. The one set of windows with the crumbling caulk that allowed rainwater in was a singular occurrence and once those were replaced and finished properly the seal on that wall would be waterproof again. He also called his roofing guy who went up his extra long ladder to inspect it and give him a quote on replacing it. Then he called in the electrician he trusted the most to look at the electrical panel and the hodgepodge of copper and aluminum wiring in the house. He came that day, shaking his head at the setup; agreeing it would all have to come out. Like Bucky, he suggested trying to recycle the copper wiring but since he would charge for it suggested that one of Bucky guys should be assigned that task to keep costs down.

Bucky phoned in a request for an asbestos test on the house with the appointment set for the next day. As rooms were cleared, he opened the ceilings up where the water stains were to look at the plumbing, confirming that several original parts of it was lead and would need to be replaced. With his mother promising the funding he began tackling the building permit forms, filling out what needed to be done and the time frame he needed to do it. By the end of the first day, he felt like he had accomplished a lot.

With the house now empty of everything he was able to picture what he really wanted to do with it. There were even some additions that he wanted like a small window alcove turned into a book nook with a window bench at the window; a perfect place to curl up with Lily to read to her. Another book nook could be put in her room as he pictured it in a cream and rose-pink colour scheme. There were several parts of the house that could accommodate a built-in storage or bookshelf unit. As he stood in the living room then impulsively pulled back the old carpeting from one of the corners, he smiled at the original hardwood floors that were underneath. No doubt there would be some areas that would be damaged, but he could always pull the old wood out of the upper floors to patch those areas, then redo the upper floors in newer materials to keep the main floor look intact.

For the first time in a long time Bucky didn't feel anxious about his work. He really wanted to do this and prove that he had what it took to be a general contractor on a legitimate job site, using honest tradespeople, and legally acquired supplies. Even though he was doing it for Andrea and Lily, he was doing it for himself as well. I'm really looking forward to this. This is what I've always wanted to do. Locking up the house he returned home, where he enjoyed another quiet evening with Lily and Andrea, after one of her home cooked meals.

While Bucky spent the first day at the house Steve and Sam began assessing what they needed to do to drum up more renovation business. Inviting Mrs. Parker into their office, because let's face it, she was an asset to their business, they threw some ideas around.

"We need to get signage," said Steve. "Advertise that we're a contracting business in general, specializing in home renovations. I know you just did your thing to get us off Google, but we have to get back on the search results."

"There are a few trade shows coming up soon," said Mrs. Parker. "You could always rent a booth in them and have some photographs of a renovation in process then of the finished job. You'll have to have a presence there for the whole day and it should be someone who knows the business, like you two. I could arrange for the printing of some pamphlets and business cards to hand out. The only problem is that your last renovation project was over a year ago and it went up in smoke because of arson so we don't have any photographs. The house project is still in the beginning stages, but we should document the process for later advertising."

The sound of the phone ringing in the office took Mrs. Parker out for a moment, leaving the other two talking.

Steve shook his head, remembering that job. "Yeah, he didn't have the money to pay us, but he did have insurance. All that time working on it, and he torched it to get the money to pay us. It didn't make sense. What a waste of time and materials. We did a good job on that place, too."

"Then he sold the property to a developer." Sam grimaced. "Didn't even invite us to be part of the rebuild." He groaned. "How many guys have building experience out of our workforce?"

Steve leaned back in his chair, looking up at the ceiling. "Five, maybe. I think Clint has the most because he's been with us the longest, but most have no experience."

Mrs. Parker returned, catching the last part of their conversation, to say it was a client from the other aspect of their business who needed them to hold a shipment.

"I told him we had to suspend that part of the business for a while," stated Mrs. Parker. "I think Bucky will probably take the more experienced guys for the house renovation. He wants to do it right. One or both of you is going to have to run a construction boot camp for the others."

The two men grimaced as it was something they hadn't even considered before.

"Do we even have enough tools for everyone?" asked Steve. He didn't wait for an answer. "Let's go get an idea of what our guys know. Mrs. Parker, can you do your magic and come up with some business cards and a pamphlet for the business? Use stock photos since we don't have a choice. Maybe once we get some jobs under our belt, we can change those up. Truth in advertising, right?"

They left her in charge of that part of their "rebranding" and headed for the warehouse where they were surprised by the sight of Thor, one of their bigger guys, who had only been with them for six months, in front of a mockup of an unfinished wall. He was in the middle of demonstrating how to fasten drywall to a stud. The others were gathered around him, listening in rapt silence as he performed the task, then handed the drill and a drywall screw to each one of them in turn. Then he noticed Sam and Steve watching, grinning at them.

"I've done drywall before so I figured I would help these others learn it," he said. "We're all in this together, right?"

"Right," said Steve as he approached. "You worked construction?"

"Summers mostly, when I was in college," answered the big man. Sam and Steve looked at each other. Thor was in college? "I know what you're thinking. How did a college guy end up in prison? I helped a buddy out when he asked me to hold a hockey bag for him. Said it was a surprise for his girlfriend. Didn't know it contained a whole lot of heroin. Got pulled over and charged with possession for the purpose of trafficking. Had a shit lawyer but I kept my nose clean in the joint and got out early for good behaviour." He looked apologetic. "I'm sorry I didn't say that part when you gave me the job. I don't want to be involved in drugs or the bad stuff in any way. You guys were the only outfit that kept their noses relatively clean compared to the others. I'm excited that you're going legit."

"Okay," said Steve, cautiously. "What else do you know?"

"Basic plumbing, finishing, taping, mudding, kitchen installation." He scratched his head as he scrunched his face up. "Window installations, deck building, roofing, painting, flooring ... I've done most of it, except for electrical because you want an electrician for that and HVAC."

"Huh," grunted Sam. "Okay, carry on, then. We're just going to take an inventory of our tools and other equipment."

"Good idea," smiled Thor. "I just grabbed this drill from the shelf. Mrs. Parker gave me some petty cash to get drywall and some studs and screws to make this mockup. Hope that was okay."

"Yeah, that was good thinking," said Steve, pulling at Sam's arm, until the latter man glared at him. "Like Sam said, carry on."

As he went into one of the storage rooms where they kept tools Sam stopped him.

"What were you pulling at me for?" he asked. "He's doing a good job in there."

"He lied!" spat Steve. "About college, about what he was in prison for, and about construction experience. I interviewed him and he said nothing about any of that. What else has he lied about?"

"What do you mean?

"What if he's undercover? How did we end up on a task force's radar when we keep such a low profile?" He pulled his cell phone out and called Mrs. Parker. "Yeah, it's Steve calling. Doesn't your call display say that?" He rolled his eyes. "I'm sorry Mrs. Parker. I didn't mean to get snippy with you. Listen, do you still have that contact in the gang division? Can you find out if Thor is an undercover cop? Yes, Thor. Did you know he went to college and that he was in prison for heroin trafficking and that he has considerable construction experience? You did? Why didn't you say anything?" He paused for a long moment as even Sam heard her tell Steve off over the cell phone even though he didn't have it on speaker. "My apologies. You are an exemplary employee who certainly knows her job very well. Thank you, Mrs. Parker."

He hung up and stood there breathing heavily for some time until Sam pushed him lightly in the arm.

"What did she say?"

"She runs an extensive check on everyone," he replied, looking into the distance. "He's exactly what he says he is. She asked him about it, and he admitted he didn't want anyone to think he was smarter than they were, and he was ashamed of being caught holding heroin." He looked at Sam then. "She knows that Natasha is a cop. Recognized her. She thinks we have a future together."

"How does she do that?" asked Sam. "I swear that she's the one who tells Mrs. Barnes all of our secrets although she manages to worm it out of us anyways."

"Just be happy she's on our side," said Steve. "Imagine if she worked for the cops."

They looked at each other for a moment then both of them shook their heads. There was no way Mrs. Parker was an undercover cop. She had been with them since just before George Barnes died, ten years before. It was her expertise in computers that got them through some sticky situations plus she was efficient, generally pleasant and her nephew was also on their payroll, although he worked for the city. Putting the thought out of their minds the two men began testing all their electrical tools, making sure they worked. They also took an inventory of what they had, knowing that they had to look the part of successful contractors to make customers willing to hire them.

🪛🔨 🪚

By the end of the week, Bucky had the word from the asbestos guy that only the insulation in the attic and the flooring in the kitchen had asbestos in it. As best they could tell there was none in the walls. It was a big relief to him as it meant the abatement process would go quicker and be less invasive. He booked the abatement guys for the following week and phoned the planning department to find out if his building permits had been approved yet. He also contacted the roofing guy to book that job. Until he had the permits in hand, he wasn't willing to do anything else that could jeopardize the project. Instead, he went into the warehouse where the construction boot camp had been underway for the week. After Steve told him about Thor's background, they put him and Clint in charge of getting the rest of the guys up to speed on their building skills. Everything looked good to Bucky when he was there.

It was obvious that some of the guys were better than others at it. After Luis sent a nail into his foot from the nail gun, and Steve took him to Dr. Banner, the doctor who usually treated people in their line of work, he insisted that everyone had to have steel toed boots immediately, blaming himself for not insisting on it to begin with. Thank goodness Bucky was in the office at the time otherwise he would have been sick on the spot. Two guys had already spent their last pay, so Bucky took them out to the work wear store, staying with them while they tried boots on. He paid for them, as well as enough hard hats and tool belts for everyone, but made sure they knew the boots would be taken out of their next pay. On his return Mrs. Parker appeared at his door.

"We need to talk," she said, closing the door behind her and sitting across from him.

"What about?" he asked.

"Well, the only people officially on the payroll are you three, me, and Clint. The others are paid cash under the table."

"Yeah," he replied, unsure where this was going.

"If they're working at a job site, you can be sure that there may be some surprise inspections on your workforce. Immigration is going to want to make sure they're legally entitled to work here, OHS is going to want to make sure they have the proper safety gear and training, and IRS might show up to make sure that your paperwork on them is all up to date. They should have healthcare coverage as well in case they get injured on the job. We have to get the others added officially to the payroll, so they need to fill out a bunch of forms. They may have to provide background checks to satisfy certain insurance requirements. They will also have to get bonded under the Federal Bonding Program to cover theft or other crimes which they may be tempted to commit at the job site." He frowned. "I can email you the details of why it's needed, but we should have it considering their backgrounds. I mean, they're all ex-cons, right? It's kind of a big deal in getting insurance coverage. No one is going to hire you for a legitimate job if you don't have that."

He leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes and rubbing his face with his hands. Then he breathed in and out a few times.

"Are you able to handle that? You already do our payroll, right?"

"Yes, but doing it for five people is easy. Doing it for 25, plus handling all the paperwork and I'm also busy getting our advertising needs set and answering the calls .... Bucky, I am already swamped. We need another person in the office."

"Part-time?" She shook her head. "More than minimum wage?" Mrs. Parker shrugged then nodded her head. "Do you know anyone who can do this?"

"I have a person in mind," she admitted. "She was sexually harassed at her other job and quit, as her official complaint went nowhere, so the guys have to know they can't come on to her or any woman that works for the company, for that matter."

"Fine, get her in here and I'll interview her just to make sure I'm satisfied she can do the job. I'll have a meeting with everyone to warn them about proper behaviour in the workplace. Is there anything else?"

"Just one thing," she smiled. Bucky looked at her with trepidation, wondering what it could be. "I think you're doing the right thing. The side business was getting a bit complicated, and I've heard rumours that Hydra was pushing the smaller companies to join them or be shut down by them. I know you don't want to be associated with them or go to the extremes they go to. You're not that kind of man."

Her words surprised him. She joined the company shortly before his dad died, as his mother had her hands full taking care of him. After his death, they were both so impressed with her that his mother asked that Mrs. Parker take over the secretarial duties completely. Her cheery nature and work skills had been greatly appreciated by all of them.

"Thank you. I just hope that we're able to turn this thing around," he said. "If we don't, I may have no choice but to get back to the other line of work."

"You'll do it," she stated, as she got up from the seat. "I have faith in you, Bucky. All of you. Even the guys, with their backgrounds, believe in you. Many of them are happy that you're going legit. They want you to succeed."

He gave her a slight smile then sat back in his chair again. When he proposed stepping away from the illegal jobs they were doing, he had no idea that trying to do the right thing was going to be so complicated. He just hoped that he could manage it.

The following day Bucky arrived at the office to the sight of a younger, dark-haired woman waiting in a chair. He said good morning to Mrs. Parker then entered his office. She followed him in, carrying some papers.

"The young lady out there is here for the other office job," she said, placing the papers on his desk. "Her name is Hope Van Dyne and that's her resume. Be nice."

"I'm always nice," he answered, as she walked out the door. "My mother taught me well. You know that."

He looked at the resume. She worked at a legal competitor's business, but the owner was a pig. Bucky wasn't surprised she quit over sexual harassment. It appeared she had all of her qualifications in order, including experience in payroll, accounts payable and receivable, as well as experience in web site maintenance. They would need a web site. Maybe she and Mrs. Parker could create one together. He called her in, just as two uniformed police officers walked in the door.

"Ms. Van Dyne, would you just wait in here a moment while I see what the officers want?" he asked.

He closed his office door and approached them.

"Can I help you, officers?" he asked politely.

One of them looked at the other and shrugged then stepped back.

"Um, are you the company that's working on the brownstone a few blocks from here?"

"Yes, we are," he asked. "Is there a problem?"

"Oh, no, no problem. One of our detectives said you were doing the renovations on it. I just bought a flat in a converted brownstone not far from there, and it needs some work before I can move in. I was wondering if you had the time to do it. That brownstone must take up a lot of time."

Mrs. Parker smiled at him.

"Sure, just let me call one of my colleagues to speak with you as I'm interviewing a potential employee right at the moment. Mrs. Parker, could you call Steve out from the warehouse, please?"

"Right away, Mr. Barnes," she answered perkily, as she picked up the handset. "Would that be Detective Romanoff who recommended us?"

"Yeah, she did," said the officer. "Says you're a good bunch of guys. We had someone from Sitwell Renovations have a look at it, and that guy was slimy as fu... as anything."

"Just so you know, we do have ex-convicts for employees, but they are all in the process of being bonded under the Federal Bonding Program," said Bucky. "I can personally vouch for any of them. We don't take anyone who has been convicted of a violent crime. They're mostly family men who want to turn their lives around. Will that be an issue for you?"

"No." The officer shook his head. "I think it's a good thing that you're giving them honest work. I didn't know you were a contracting business, not having a sign or anything."

"Yeah, just never got around to it and we kind of operated by word of mouth to a select clientele but business is competitive and we're stepping up to increase our presence in the community," said Bucky. Where did that come from? Steve walked in. "Here he is. This is Steve Rogers, my second in command, so to speak. This is Officer ...?"

"Benson," said the other man, offering Steve his hand. "That's my partner, Porter."

Steve waved at him. "Come on into my office and I'll get your information, and we can set up a time to view your property."

Bucky nodded at Officer Porter, then went into his office where Ms. Van Dyne was waiting. She looked nervous so he sat and picked up her resume.

"This is all on the level? It's not padded?"

"No, Mr. Barnes. I'm good at my job. I liked it until ...."

"You don't have to tell me details," he said. "Unique Renovations is run by a worthless piece of slime. We all know it, but he gets away with it because his dad has connections. Has Mrs. Parker told you about our company?"

"She said you had a limited client base before and decided to shift your focus to general contracting and home and office renovations. She also said you employ ex-convicts, but I know May and if she wasn't comfortable working with them, she would tell me. I'm willing to give you my best so long as I'm treated properly."

"Well, I read them the riot act yesterday, because Mrs. Parker insisted I had to hire you, so I expect them to be gentlemen around you. If they're not you tell me ... and tell Mrs. Parker. She'll kick their backsides. The job is yours if you want it. I noticed you have experience in setting up websites. We're looking to have one, since we operated by word of mouth before. Would you be interested in handling that as well as your other duties that you and Mrs. Parker work out between you?"

"Absolutely," she exclaimed. "The pay?"

He wrote down her hourly pay on a slip of paper, noting her vacation time and that health care was included, although that still had to be set up. She smiled broadly and he stood up, offering her his hand to shake.

"Welcome to Barnes Contracting. I'm going to show you around and then Mrs. Parker will get you to fill in the paperwork."

The tour went well, except for Scott becoming a little weird around Hope, even for him. She didn't seem to mind him so much, as he didn't come close to being inappropriate. In fact, he seemed quite taken by her. By the time Bucky was done showing her around Steve had finished talking to Officer Benson and set up a time the next day to look at the flat for the estimate. Boot camp continued with Steve and Sam doing their part, while Bucky was shown a mockup of their pamphlet and business cards that Mrs. Parker had worked on. She ordered in lunch for everyone, and the three of them ate in his office while the guys ate in the warehouse, playing the radio loud. After lunch, Bucky started sourcing what was needed for the brownstone renovation, using many of his legitimate contacts. By the end of the day, he felt good about everything that was accomplished. As everyone left, the three of them sat in Bucky's office, while he took a bottle of scotch out of a drawer and poured them each a drink.

"This has been the weirdest week I can ever remember having," said Sam. "From finding out about Natasha being a cop, switching to becoming a legitimate business, Thor being a college graduate and an experienced construction worker, and now getting our first referral." He looked at Steve. "When are you seeing Natasha again?"

"Tonight," he smiled. "She's coming over. When are you seeing Maria again?"

Sam grinned. "Tonight. She's coming over."

"Are you guys official?" asked Bucky, sipping from his glass.

They looked at each other. "Haven't been out on an official date since we left them at the tapas bar," said Steve, grinning. "Seen plenty of her though."

"Yeah, yeah, but how do you feel about her?"

"There's something there," admitted his friend, with Sam nodding his head in agreement. "It's only been a week." He looked at Bucky. "What about you and Andrea?"

"Taking it slow. I had an episode in front of her."

Both Sam and Steve sat upright as Bucky told them the details.

"She was cool with it?" Bucky nodded. Sam smiled kindly at him. "That says a lot about the type of person she is. I hope you two can make it work."

"Me too." Bucky drained his glass. "I'm headed home. Can you two lock up?"

On the way home he thought of how he hadn't seen much of Andrea and Lily this week, except for when his mother came over for dinner. He had headed out early and returned home late most days, but Andrea always had something ready for him to eat when he walked into the apartment. As he passed an open florist's he stopped and ran inside, picking up a bouquet of flowers. When he came out of the elevator and called out that he was home, there was silence.

"Andrea?" he called out again, leaving the flowers on the kitchen counter.

He headed to her bedroom, knocking gently on the closed door, then opening it slowly. She was on the bed, not moving, and for a moment he felt the icy cold knife of fear in his stomach. Then he heard Lily fussing and went over to the crib where she was awake. Taking her out of her sleeping bag he held her and approached the bed, sitting next to Andrea.

"Hey, wake up," he said gently. "You, okay?"

"Bucky?" She turned towards him. "Oh, I must have fallen asleep. I don't feel good."

He put his free hand on her forehead.

"Sweetheart, you're burning up," he said. "How long have you felt sick?"

"A while after you left. I got a bad headache, then hot all over and just felt like I couldn't move. What time is it?"

"After six," he answered. "When did you last feed Lily?"

"I don't know, noon, maybe? She must be so hungry."

Andrea started to cry. Bucky stroked her forehead, trying to settle her.

"Hey, it's okay. I'm here now. I can feed her some of your milk that's in the freezer, right? I'll just thaw it in lukewarm water then warm it up. You stay here."

"She's probably wet, too," moaned Andrea as she tried to get up.

"It's okay, I'll change her. I'm going to call a doctor friend of mine, alright?"

Andrea laid back and nodded, too sick to speak. Bucky turned on the light and laid Lily on the change table. He didn't really know what he was doing but he had seen Andrea do it. Looking closely at how the diaper was fastened before, he unfastened it and wiped Lily's bottom clean with a baby wipe. Then he laid out the new diaper, sliding it on underneath, and doing it up. It was a little loose, so he tightened the sticky tabs then put the baby girl's legs back into her sleeper. Turning off the light he took Lily to the kitchen, holding her in one arm while he took one of the bottles of breast milk out of the freezer. Washing his hands first was a challenge but he did it, then he filled a bowl with lukewarm water and put the bottle in it to thaw the milk. Next, he called Dr. Banner, describing Andrea's symptoms.

"Do you have a thermometer?" asked Banner.

"I don't know," answered Bucky, going back into the bedroom. "Andrea? Do you have a thermometer?"

"In the bathroom," she said wearily. "It's the type that you place on the forehead."

He found it, turned it on and placed it against Andrea's forehead. It read 102.3° which he passed on to Dr. Banner, who was quiet for a moment.

"Does she hurt all over? Are her breasts hot, red, and swollen?"

He asked Andrea who answered yes to the first question, then she surprised him when she pulled her top up for Bucky to look. Gingerly, he touched the skin visible above her bra, confirming that one breast was hot and swollen. There was a reddish area on it.

"It's mastitis," said Dr. Banner. "She's going to need some antibiotics and pain killers. She also needs to express milk or breastfeed for a few minutes to relieve the pressure, not a full feeding. It's okay for the baby. I can phone the prescription into a pharmacy, but you'll have to pick it up."

"Okay, do that," said Bucky, giving him the number of a pharmacy nearby. "I'll call my mother to come sit with her while I pick it up."

After Bruce told him more that could be done for Andrea's symptoms, Bucky called his mother who did one better, stopping off herself to pick up the medication. When she entered the apartment and saw him feeding Lily, she felt a burst of pride in her son. She put the medication on the counter, took her coat off and placed it over a chair with her purse then held her hands out to him.

"Please, may I feed her?"

"She's almost done but I think she's still hungry as Andrea didn't feed her for a while," he said. "She was so sick she was in a deep sleep."

"I remember those days," she smiled, as she cradled the little girl in her arms. "What did Bruce say?"

"To give her the medication right away, get her to drink lots of fluids and to either breastfeed or express her milk to get it going again." He blushed. "I don't have to do that for her, do I?"

"I think she can manage that," smiled his mother. "Why don't you give her the medications and see if she's up to trying to feed Lily for a few minutes. If not, she can put an ice pack on it. You could always massage it for her. That helps as well."

"Ma, please, don't joke."

"I'm not," she chuckled. "Your dad used to do it for me when I got it with you or your sister. It's not a sexual thing. You're just trying to relieve the pain."

Bucky grabbed the medication, taking it to Andrea, not wanting to hear about breasts from his mother. After getting a glass of water from the bathroom he sat on the bed next to her, and read the medication instructions. Taking a pill out he touched her arm, as her eyes were closed.

"Andrea, sweetie, I have the antibiotics," he said quietly.

"Where's Lily?" she asked, as she turned over.

"My mom's here. She's feeding Lily."

He gave her the pill, then handed her the water, encouraging her to drink it all. She handed the glass back and laid against the pillow looking up at him.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

"For what?" he answered. "You got sick, that's all. You looked after me when I cut my knee. I'm just returning the favour." He put the thermometer on her forehead, happy to see her temperature had come down a couple of degrees since he gave her the painkillers before he fed Lily. "The pills already did their thing with your temperature."

She smiled sadly. "You're so nice."

"Thank you. So are you. I bought you flowers."

"You did? Why?"

"Because I've had such long days, and you still made me something to eat every day. No one's ever looked after me like that since I was a kid. You make me feel special."

"You are special."

Taking her hand in his he stroked it, then raised it to his lips and kissed her fingers. She didn't pull her hand away. Swallowing, he released it, then leaned down and kissed her forehead. A warm hand cupped his cheek as he pulled away a little. Her eyes stared intently into his then went to his lips.

"You're sick," he murmured, wanting to kiss her more than anything.

"I know, but I still want to. It's not catching."

"Get better first." He stroked her hair. "I'm not going anywhere."

"Alright," she whispered. "Will you bring Lily to me so I can nurse her?"

"Yeah. I'll send my mom in while I make you some soup."

He got up, but Andrea took his hand, keeping him near the bed.

"Thank you for looking after me."

With a squeeze of her hand, he pulled away and left the room. His mother had Lily on her shoulder, gently rubbing her back.

"She wants to try to feed Lily for a few minutes, just to relieve the pressure. I'm going to make her some soup."

When he came out of the pantry with a can and began looking for a pot, Winnifred stood near him.

"You're a good man, Bucky," she murmured. "Someday, you'll be a good husband and father."

He smiled self-consciously and opened the can of soup as his mother took Lily into the bedroom. Stirring it with a can of water, he tried to focus on that, but his mind kept going back to how natural it felt to take care of Andrea and Lily. It just seemed like he knew what to do. Leaving the soup to warm up at a lower temperature, he got a vase out, filled it with water and poured the little packet of plant food into it, using a wooden spoon to stir it up. As he arranged the flowers in the vase, he pulled a red rose out of the bunch and placed it in a smaller single stem vase.

Something had changed between them since he got home and realized she was sick. Earlier in the week Andrea said she wanted to take it slow, and he respected that, but she also wanted to kiss him when he was sitting on the bed next to her. Maybe it was the next step in their relationship. But he wouldn't do anything until she felt better. In the meantime, he liked taking care of his family. That made him smile at the realization that they were his family now. Perhaps that was the change he was sensing. Taking care of them both had changed how he and Andrea thought of each other. It was the best feeling in the world.

Part 7>>

Series Masterlist

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#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #buckybarnes original female character #james buchanan barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes romance #stepping up #suspicious

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dollsonmain · 15 days ago

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Insta keeps showing me tiny houses and I don't mind, I think they're neat if kind of depressing because that's about all anyone can afford anymore but I would like to have one for my doll/pony stuff, really. Not that he HOA would allow it either way.

Our sheds have to be a certain size and same aesthetic as the houses, which is faux, half-assed colonial. Even the shingles and siding have to match the house.

This neighborhood is very boring.

Bunkies have come up a time or two recently and the concept is simple enough. It's like Lincoln Logs. I have a feeling the joins aren't going to be super strong and might crack in a strong wind... It would be more sturdy than MY house with it's complete lack of exterior walls.

One thing I find kind of odd, though, is that people say you can't insulate the walls at all, only the ceiling and floor, so they're no good for homes or places that get very hot or very cold.

Of course you could... Just like turning a shed into a tiny house, you'd have to sacrifice some interior space to do it, but all you have to do is install waterproofing, framing/studs which you'd want to do if you wanted to make separate rooms inside anyway, insulation, and drywall/paneling like any other house. You could even install siding if you wanted to for better waterproofing, or add on exterior walls to make the insulation sandwich if you really wanted that wood board cabin interior look.

Folks aren't very creative I think.

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captn-trex · 5 months ago

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technical devotion, part five: objective

content warnings: elusions to violence

last chapter | next chapter | master list | join the taglist

Kan placed down her bag at the end of the bed she would be staying in for that night. She opened it up and took out the few tools she would be taking with her on the mission, and slipped them into a pouch on her belt, looking up to meet Echo's gaze.

“Ready?” He asked.

“As I'll ever be” She replied with a smile.

The weather on Haidoral Prime left much to be desired. The rain that endlessly poured from the sky smelled distinctly unpleasant, like something acidic, sharp. Kan threw on her waterproof poncho as protection as her and Echo made their way through town and towards the imperial facility.

Up until this point, Kan had never seen Echo in his full armour, and particularly not with his helmet on. She had to admit that the design fascinated her, but realised that it was probably best to ask him about it after the mission was complete.

Echo took the lead, having had the time to study the layout of the small settlement. He made sure to keep close to walls to hide their movements, even if they were under the cover of darkness. They came to a stop at the edge of town, the imperial facility just a short distance away.

“There's a vent up there” Echo pointed, “Just big enough for us to fit in”

“How are we getting up there?”

“I'll give you a boost, and then you can pull me up”

Kan looked up at the vent and back to Echo, “I'm not sure I'm strong enough"

“Sure you are, it's not too high”

“Okay, if you say so”

With that, Echo moved out, Kan close behind him, and they sprinted to the outer wall of the compound. They waited as a patrol passed around the corner and out of their sight, and then Echo locked his hands together, positioning them on his knee. Kan placed her boot into his gloved fingers, finding a good positioning as she looked up at her destination.

“Alright, do it” She spoke quietly.

Echo counted down and then launched Kan upwards, coming to rest under her in case she fell back. Luckily, her fingers found purchase on the vent ledge, and she hung on with one hand as she quietly unscrewed the outer cover. The screws dropped down as they came loose, and Kan cursed quietly as the hood of her poncho fell backwards, exposing her to the unpleasant weather conditions. Shortly after, Kan offered the covering down to Echo, who caught it when she dropped it down to him. He looked back up to her as she curled her arms up, pulling herself inside the vent.

Echo waited patiently, keeping an eye on his surroundings, as Kan manoeuvred herself around and held out her arm down for him to grab. He wasted no time in jumping upwards, his fingers wrapping around her forearm. Kan dug her heels into the edge of the vent, pulling him up with all the effort she could muster. He quickly grabbed onto the edge of the vent, and Kan fell back, taking a deep breath. Echo climbed up into the vent and took his helmet off for a moment to rid it of some of the foul-smelling rain, simultaneously taking in the sight of Kan laid out and breathing heavily.

“See, easy” He said quietly.

Kan looked up to see a mocking smirk on his face, “I'm glad to see one of us is having fun”

Echo then brought a finger to his lips, his smirk still evident as he shushed her. Kan just rolled her eyes, her lazy smile once again making an appearance as she rolled over onto her front and began crawling through the vent. Echo fixed his helmet back onto his head and kept his eyes down as he followed after her.

After a few minutes, Kan came to a stop and turned as much as she could to show Echo that there was a way down below them. He nodded, and Kan brought her datapad from the pouch on her hip, scanning for life forms. When she was satisfied they would not be caught, she carefully opened the hatch and dropped down, Echo following suit.

Kan quickly made her way over to the door panel nearby, taking a cable from her belt and hooking her datapad up to it. Echo stood guard as she did so, making sure no one was coming.

“Got it” She mumbled, taking back her cable, opening the schematics of the building. She looked over the maps, letting out a quiet curse at the information she found.

“What is it?” Echo turned to her and then to her datapad, looking over the plans.

“Comms is on the other side of the building” She pointed to the point on the map of the building.

“Kriff” He said quietly, a hum of agreement coming from Kan.

“We can continue via the vents, though it will take longer”

Echo sighed, “Probably our best bet. We won't be able to come back later if we go in guns a-blazing now”

“I agree sir”

Echo looked to Kan with an utterly confused, yet amused expression.

“Did you just call me sir?” He whispered to her.

Kan's gaze met the visor of Echo's helmet, “Uh- yeah, is that not…?” She trailed off, staying professional though her face felt like it was on fire, “Right, sorry, my bad. Let's get going”

Kan slotted her datapad back into its pouch and jumped up to the vent, grabbing a hold of it and pulling herself up with reasonable ease. Echo just shook his head at the interaction, moving on and hauling himself into the vent behind her, closing it after himself.

It took almost 15 minutes, but the pair of them made it as far as they could in the vents, and Kan had begun sweating profusely at the heated temperature inside. Echo was luckier, his blacks being thermoregulated and allowing him to stay cool aside from the small sliver of skin between the top of his blacks and his helmet.

Kan pulled her datapad and scanned for life forms, the device not reading anything. She motioned to Echo that the coast was clear, and she opened the hatch. This time, the hatch was at the top of a wall rather than in the ceiling, so Kan took extra care not to make any noise as she let the covering hang down against it.

She began to shuffle forwards, but Echo's heart started beating out of his chest as he heard footsteps. It was too late for Kan to slowly shuffle back, so Echo took drastic action, lurching forwards and grabbing her by the waist with his one hand, hauling her back into the vent. He reached ahead of her and hooked his scomp into the vent cover, bringing it back into place as quietly as he could.

Echo’s hand stayed resting on Kan's bare abdomen beneath her poncho, and the two of them held their breaths as a group of imperials passed them by, none the wiser. Echo was so painfully aware of the position that he had put Kan in, he couldn't ignore it even if he tried. He was on top of her, her back pressed flat against his front and breathing right into her ear in shaky breaths. He tried to lift himself off of her as much as he could, but in the confines of the vent, he didn't get far. He kept himself focused, blocking out any unwanted thoughts at the proximity.

Kan, however, was finding it exceedingly difficult to stop her mind from wandering. She already knew she felt somewhat drawn to Echo, but the modulated sound of his breathing in her ear was driving her insane. She was blushing deeply at the intimacy of their position, especially when Echo brushed his thumb gently across her stomach almost imperceptibly. She had to suppress a shiver, fearing moving at all in this position.

“I'm sorry” Echo whispered, slowly edging backwards as the noise of the imperials had passed them by.

“Dont be. Thank you” Kan spoke breathlessly.

She looked back at him, and Echo's heart leapt to his throat at the sight of her. Her hair was stuck to her forehead in a mixture of rain and sweat, her cheeks were a darkened shade of green, and her eyes were blown wide and swimming with something that Echo dared not define, particularly in this position. He was eternally gratefully for his helmet in that moment so that Kan couldn't see his slack jaw and bright red cheeks.

Kan scurried from his grasp and quickly made her way out of the vent. Echo shook his head violently, focusing himself on the task at hand once more, and followed her lead.

The room they were heading towards was undoubtedly going to be guarded, so they closely hugged the walls as they made the short distance there. Kan came to a stop around the corner from the entrance and took a peek, then turned back to Echo.

“Just two guards, I've got this” She spoke assuredly, setting her blaster to stun

Before Echo could even argue, Kan stepped out and fired two rounds, and he heard the guards drop to the floor. He looked at her perfect form, a domineering confidence about her, and had to remind himself to breathe. He laid his back against the wall, still somewhat reeling from their close encounter before, and tried to quiet his mind. When he saw Kan take off her poncho out of the corner of his eye, he gulped. Maker, get ahold of yourself.

“Echo!” Kan hissed from down the hall, and he snapped back into it, quickly rounding the corner and catching up with her.

The communication room was empty, and Kan immediately got to work unscrewing the front panel from the main console. She looked over the inner workings of the machine and mumbled some things to herself. She brought her datapad out from its pouch, took a few photos, and then put the panel back. She then hooked her datapad up to the console and searched for any possibly useful files first of all.

“There's nothing but the transmission” She muttered, then brought her datapad closer to her face, looking over the information, “The signal is definitely going to the prison”

Kan and Echo had managed to retrieve any necessary information for Kan to figure out how to replicate the signal without any issues, and they were now back at their motel. Kan was knelt at the end of her bed, resting her forehead on it and looking down at her datapad, making calculations that Echo had no clue the meaning of. He couldn't help but chuckle at her posture, and he realised that her strange sitting habits were more or less a quirk of hers.

Kan looked up upon hearing Echo's amused huff, “What?”

“You sure sit in some funny positions” He mused, and she let out a small laugh herself and rubbed the back of her neck, sitting back on her heels.

“Yeah I guess I do, I just go with whatever makes me get the work done really”

“I don't think I'd get any work done like that” He said as he sat down on his own bed, beginning to take off his armour.

“Whatever, to each their own” She rolled her eyes and looked back down to her work. It wasn't the first time someone had commented on her less-than-regular sitting habits.

“Indeed” Echo replied.

Kan looked up again to see that Echo had stripped down to his blacks. She chewed her cheek a little, “Are you turning in?”

“Yeah, you should too, you have all of tomorrow to figure that out”

“Yeah, I'll finish up soon” She smiled, and Echo laid down on his bed, turning away.

“Goodnight Echo” Kan offered, and he smiled to himself.

“Night Kan"

Echo awoke and rubbed his hand over his face sleepily. He sat up in his bed and saw that the moon was still spilling through the curtains, not the sun. He sighed. He was a painfully light sleeper nowadays.

Before his brush with the Techno Union, he slept wonderfully. Every night, he was out like a light and relished in a good long sleep after a particularly rough campaign. However now, since being rescued from Skako Minor, he woke up constantly throughout the night. It was frustrating, to know from his own experience how blissful sleep could be, only to never be able to find any peace in the action anymore.

Echo looked over to Kan's bed and saw that it was still made, untouched and clearly having not been used at all. He frowned and looked around the rest of the small room, not finding Kan anywhere. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and rose to his feet, taking the few steps towards the refresher door and knocking firmly. When he got no answer, he opened up the door and she wasn't in there either.

A panic rose in Echo's gut, and he stalked around the room, trying to calm himself and think rationally. There's no way someone could have taken her with me in here, I would have woken up. She's probably just taking a walk or something.

He kept running through his thoughts, but his eyes caught on something, or rather, nothing. Her bag and tools were gone. Has she left? In the middle of a mission? That seemed to be an impossibility to Echo, but the idea bounced around in his head nonetheless.

It was an hour before Kan returned, and Echo was beside himself. When he heard the door zip open, he whirled around, relief seeping into his body as he looked upon Kan’s soaked silhouette.

“Where have you been?” Echo asked urgently, striding over to meet her at the door.

Kan was taken aback, not expecting to find him awake. “Um, I went back. I completed the mission” She let a small smile creep onto her face at the admission.

“What?” He asked, his voice raised slightly in exasperation. He waited for her to say she was joking or anything else, but she stood looking at him in all seriousness. “That was reckless! You shouldn't have gone in without backup!”

Kan said nothing, her high from completing the mission coming crashing down at Echo's accusatory tone. She tried to keep her expression impassive, but the soft crease in her brow was betraying her. Echo noticed it almost immediately, and his own demeanour softened.

“I'm sorry, just- Kriff, when are you going to stop worrying me all the time?” He said, turning away and mumbling under his breath.

“What do you-”

“Nothing, ignore me” He waved a hand to dismiss her prying. He took a seat on his bed and relaxed his posture, feeling like he could relax now, knowing that Kan was safe.

Kan took off her bag and poncho, and approached timidly, sitting opposite him on her own bed, the first time she had touched it.

“I'm sorry if I worried you, Echo. I intended to be back before you woke up” She said quietly.

“Yeah well I dont sleep so well” He replied, a traceable amount of animosity in his tone.

Kan didn't really know what was appropriate to say and just settled on what seemed like the most obvious to her, “Why not?”

Echo looked up and met her eyes, her soft and gentle gaze watching him with no scrutiny, only genuine interest.

“I dont know, I just don't” He lied, something he'd never been good at, and Kan definitely picked up on it, though she didn't press. Echo sat back against the wall, crossing one leg over the other as he lay on his bed.

For a moment, they were both silent, and Echo realised his heart was still beating fast from the unease of Kan being missing. He couldn't quite understand why it had affected him so, but he assured himself that it was just because he felt Kan had a particular innocent friendliness about her that people could take advantage of. Nothing more.

“So… you did it? You doubled the signal?” He asked.

“Yeah, it wasn't too hard, just took a bit of time. I've rigged it so that their signal will break down eventually, so they shouldn't notice anything for a while” Kan laid down on her side and propped herself up on her elbow.

Echo mirrored her, sliding down the bed to meet her gaze, “Have you ever done anything like that before?”

“No” She said quickly, now struggling to hold back how excited she felt about it, “I've gotta say I found it pretty fun”

Echo smirked at the childish wonder in her eyes, “I can tell”

Kan rolled her eyes and flopped onto her back, looking up at the ceiling with a wide smile. She let out a deep breath, the bed was a lot softer than the bunk at base.

“Can I ask you about your armour?” Kan asked out of the blue.

“Uh, yeah” Echo said hesitantly, “What do you want to know?”

“How come it's… different from the rest of the clones?”

Echo was a little apprehensive, but he was beginning to understand that Kan was just inquisitive.

“I was part of a spec ops team” he admitted.

“No way” Kan rolled back over to face him.

Echo's breath hitched as her eyes locked with his again. He couldn't deny that she looked absolutely beautiful, her back illuminated by the light of the moon and dark hair spilling over her shoulders and waist.

“Yeah, I wasn't always, but I joined them towards the end of the war” He spoke before he could dwell on the flurry of feelings in his chest.

“What division was it?” Kan asked eagerly.

“Uh… Clone Force 99” Echo answered, though he wasn't sure it would really mean anything to her.

However, Kan's eyes lit up, “Woah, yeah, I heard about you guys”

“You did?” Echo raised his eyebrows in surprise.

Kan realised her familiarity was showing and pulled back a bit, “Yeah, I mean, you were known by a lot of people before the war ended”

Echo nodded, “I guess yeah”

“Wait, so you're like… genetically enhanced?”

“No. Like I said, I joined them later on” Echo replied, laying down on his back.

“Right, cool”

Kan desperately wanted to ask how he ended up with his cybernetic limbs, and if that's what landed him a place on the team, but she recognised it wasn't her place, and his reaction to her last comment had not been received particularly well. Something about Echo really interested her, and she just wanted to understand him and pick his brains about anything and everything.

She instead stood up and grabbed her sleep clothes from her bag, and went to the refresher to get changed. When she reentered the room, she made her way straight to her bed and slipped under the covers, revelling in the softness that she hadn't felt in so long.

Kan felt sleep gripping her quickly, her mind tired from the day's work, but she heard Echo speak through her hazy state.

“Kan?”

“Yeah?”

“Well done, for completing the mission. It's an impressive feat, you should be proud of yourself"

Kan smiled broadly in the dark, “Thanks Echo”

She only wished that he would've said that he was proud of her. I suppose we're not there yet.

#trex writings #arc trooper echo #bad batch #star wars #tbb #tbb echo #the bad batch #echo x oc #clone force 99 #501st battalion #501st legion #clones #echo my beloved

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walldecuk · 26 days ago

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At Walldec, our vision is simple yet powerful: to create spaces where form meets function, where aesthetics seamlessly merge with acoustic perfection. We believe that every room, whether in a commercial setting or a residential haven, should offer the utmost comfort, tranquility, and style.

#slat wall panels #acoustic wall panels #waterproof wall panels

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robboyblunder · 2 years ago

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Was in the mood for drawing another robot and came up with this beast for my solar/cyberpunk setting :) It's a giant robot that processes an entire city's data instantaneously and fluently and LOVES information. the robot doesn't really have pronouns, so I gave it it/they where people unfamiliar use 'it' and those closer to it use 'they'. I don't have a name for them other than 'data bot' at the moment lmao.

more info about 'em under the read more! Image ID in ALT text :)

(please don't repost or use these, and leave my description; thanks! reblogs appreciated!)

-this data bot cares about information more than anything, and will do most anything to get it; the only way it isn't destroying systems and taking over is built in inhibitors lmao. it's one of the only things that can handle the massive information flow the cyber city it resides below needs to compute and control things. having something with that much power go out of hand... not safe!

-data bot loves talking about the things it knows and providing information, but doesn't have strong attachment to most anything; sentimentality, empathy, and morality are not part of its AI. It does feel emotions, but simply tends to be mostly curious, ambivalent, and quite bored.

-intruders or rude people will get rapidly 'disassembled' into information by the data bot; as in, like a praying mantis, it'll snatch them up so fast they can't react before they're pulled apart to be dissected for how they work and what's inside them. it's a little brutal! cleaning up after sucks for everyone except data bot.

-data bot is not entirely waterproof as a safety protocol; the water in the bottom of the room serves to cool its tech, but also as a threatening reminder that if it goes haywire or tries to escape, it'll be dropped from the ceiling straight into a watery pool grave.

-the glass panels floating around the bot are actually intricate low-tech data storage made from special tech imbued glass that is water proof and holds large quantities of information each. data bot is one of the only things that can read them! the slot holes in the walls are for putting away panels, retrieving them, or getting new ones to write data upon.

-data bot can move in most any direction in its giant bubble room, and is incredibly flexible and nimble. this makes its motions oddly organic and kind of creepy to most! the workers seriously fear this thing, and rarely want to be the ones to have to go near it.

-workers are required to be sterile and hazmatted up around data bot for unknown reasons to them. data bot doesn't mind either way.

-data bot gets rapidly bored, and this is dangerous; its super intelligent mind needs constant stimulation lest it start trying to find ways to entertain itself to the detriment of the building and the city it controls. workers often give it puzzles, news from their own lives, and talk to it to keep it busy when the city's data isn't enough.

-to keep it clean, workers must squeegee bathe the bot, who funny enough, finds it very enjoyable and relaxing; one of the only times it's safe to be remotely close to it is bath time. holding up a squeegee in their presence is like holding up a stick for a dog.

-data bot longs to break free and pick apart as much of the world to understand and catalogue all information out there... if it had a body, it would be catastrophic as its information is priceless so destroying it would be incredibly devastating, expensive (its tech is state of the art), and difficult (in the event it manages to break out, shut off the inhibitors, and upgrade itself to be water proof).

-the city council and members in power often use data bot like an AI assistant, and have no idea how dangerous, huge, and scary the thing is minus a select few. the ones who know are the most wary.

ty for reading :)

#robot #robots #cyberpunk #robot art #scifi #original #oc #original character #data bot #eye strain

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chemicalresearchnews · 4 months ago

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Exploring the Growth Potential of the Construction Adhesive Tapes Industry: Key Trends and Innovations Driving the Market

The construction adhesive tapes industry has been gaining significant momentum in recent years, becoming an essential component in modern construction projects. From residential buildings to large-scale infrastructure, adhesive tapes are revolutionizing how structures are assembled, sealed, and protected. In this blog, we’ll explore the factors driving the industry's growth, the latest innovations, and the benefits that construction adhesive tapes offer over traditional bonding methods.

1. Market Growth and Demand Drivers

The global construction adhesive tapes market is expanding rapidly, driven by rising demand for more efficient, cost-effective, and sustainable construction materials. Factors contributing to the market's growth include:

Increased construction activities in developing regions

A growing emphasis on sustainable and green building practices

The need for faster, labor-saving solutions on construction sites

Technological advancements in adhesive formulation, ensuring stronger and more durable bonds

2. Types of Construction Adhesive Tapes

Adhesive tapes in the construction industry come in a variety of forms, each designed for specific applications. Some of the most popular types include:

Duct tapes: Known for their versatility and strength in temporary bonding.

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Each type serves a critical function, whether it's sealing, joining, or protecting surfaces.

Download PDF Brochure: https://www.marketsandmarkets.com/pdfdownloadNew.asp?id=222451392

3. Key Innovations in the Industry

Recent developments in the construction adhesive tapes industry have focused on improving adhesion strength, environmental resistance, and ease of application. Some innovations include:

Heat-resistant and waterproof tapes for extreme conditions

Low-VOC (volatile organic compound) adhesives that contribute to healthier building environments

Eco-friendly options using recyclable materials and biodegradable adhesives

Smart tapes that change color to indicate correct application or curing

These advancements ensure that adhesive tapes not only perform better but also contribute to more sustainable building practices.

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These benefits are making adhesive tapes the go-to choice for many contractors and builders.

5. Future Outlook for the Industry

As construction projects continue to evolve with advancements in building materials and methods, the construction adhesive tapes industry is poised for continued growth. Innovations like smart adhesives, sustainable materials, and more specialized tapes tailored for unique construction needs will play a vital role in the industry's future. Moreover, as green building regulations become stricter, the demand for eco-friendly adhesive solutions will continue to rise.

#construction additives tapes industry #construction additives tapes #construction additives tapes market #construction #construction additives #construction additives industry #construction industry #business #news

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soir-rouges-esprit · 6 months ago

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xxix.d: Kingslayer, Immediately the clicking stopped and was followed by a massive buzzing sound and a large sci-fi energy charge-up sound … The lights that were off in the Turbine Room came on instantly, as bright as if they were right off the factory line; I could hear through the thick steel walls loud machines coming to life one by one, turning the deafening silence, into quiet constant sound. Now that’s what I’m fucking talking about … of course when I do it, it gets done … fucking useless mouthbreathers I swear. I walked back out to the large digital crow's nest, climbed all the way up … and … BOOM, The breaker power light was on, I flipped the breakers that were off restoring power to systems that weren’t even getting power, and then took out the blow fuzes and replaced them with the extra’s that were in the side panel door, hidden in the waterproof pockets … … … I get done with replacing them … then slowly … flick them on one after the other, with each and everyone one I flick … my heart beats with anticipation as I look over at the antenna light waiting for it to flick back on. *Flick* 3 *Flick* 2 *Flick* 1 … *sigh* come on come one come *Flick* A flash of light shoots from the antenna. ON!!! HAHAHAHAAAA YEAH!!!!! Fuck you technology gods! I break my ill-fate once more you fucking bitch cowards … SUCK IT!!! I climb down the tower and walk back into the bridge, to the radio LCD, I change the signal back to Red and … *bzzz* *bzzz* *bzzz* … no … fucking … response … … … FFFFFUCKING WHAT!?!?!?!?! I Grab one of the small metal stools and throw it across the room, then frantically smash one of the side panel speakers with furious slams from my fist. FUCK FUCK FUCK … FUCK!!!!!!!!!!! Why isn’t it picking him UP! Body & Mind walk back into the room. “Still not working?” “Try turning it off and on again?” … I can feel as my fucking blood rushes to my head with a headache starting to form just at the sounds of their voices, amplified by their physical presence. Did I … turn it off … and then on, again … What kind of, Fucking … IDIOTOTIC QUESTION IS THAT!??!?! I RESTARTED THE WHOLE GODAMN BROKEN SYSTEM!!! Of which BY THE WAY … was failing entirely to us now having the Turbines on … which was SUPPOSED TO BE, Yooouuur Job! … I thought you told me the power situation was handled months ago? So how in the fuck is that possible when the input cable wasn’t even plugged the fuck in? “Well … it was handled because uh … it wasn’t working and there wasn’t anything I could figure out through my panels on how to fix it” … … and you … decided to just … not mention that? “Well … now that you mention it, I guess I frog-” *WHACK* I throw him to the ground, leveling his face with a well-placed jab straight to the eye. Do something like that again … and your ass is DEAD!!! “OK OK!!! Alright shit … sorry” *sigh* Body? “Fixed the pipes, shouldn’t be any more leaks, and with the power back on, I’d assume the purification pumps will kick back in … probably why the water stunk to high hell, it was all fucking dirty … other than that pumps are back and working, at least the ones that I could fix with what we had, and now we just need to get that rudder” “Speaking of … I found where to get a relay” Mind shuffled over to his terminal and typed like a mad man, so fast I couldn’t really comprehend what his hands were doing, then … [To Be Continued]

#creative writing #writing #original story

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darkspine10 · 9 months ago

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GF Fanfic - Ego-Death

Tangled Roots (27,062 words) by darkspine10

Chapters: 5/7

Fandom: Gravity Falls

Rating: Mature

Note: The music which inspired this chapter was a sitar piece composed by Jim Sullivan for the Space 1999 episode, The Troubled Spirit (aired 1976). I found it quite memorable, and recommend checking it out to add to the mood.

“And through here… tada!”

Pacifica entered into a cramped room with octagonal wood-panelled walls. “Oh wow. A tiny cupboard.” It was cramped enough with the two of them, let alone if Zera had been present. She had bowed out for the night, probably impatient for Pacifica to leave so she and her wife could get back to their private evening.

After drying off from her second soak of the evening Pacifica had re-dressed, making sure that the old fur hat hadn’t suffered any permanent water damage. She continued to clutch Wendy’s hat in one hand, strangely unwilling to leave it lying around to get lost in Mabel’s home. Her jacket was still soaked through, despite its promised waterproof material. In any case the right sleeve was little more than ragged shreds. She’d been very grateful to get out of the bikini top, and since she didn’t care about appearances around Mabel, hadn’t bothered to put her bra back on.

The t-shirt above was now pleasantly dry. It was white with green around the neck and sleeves. Several varieties of trees were illustrated on the front, with their scientific nomenclature listed out beside them. It was the only good purchase from the souvenir shop of a tourist trap she’d visited with Mason as part of a circuit around all of the local attractions of Oregon beyond the Falls. The trip had been described by Mason semi-seriously as ‘checking out the competition’. He’d bought the shirt for her as a gift. ‘So he’d always be close to her heart’, he’d added with a wink. Amidst the old growth redwoods, oaks, and maples on the shirt was, obviously, Pinus Ponderosa.

For her part, Mabel hadn’t bothered to change out of her bikini, other than wrapping her towel around her shoulders as a makeshift cape. She shook her head, sending water droplets flying into Pacifica’s face. With her best attempt at a performer’s voice, Mabel wagged her finger and said, “Ah ah ah, surely by now, Paz, you realise that appearances can be deceiving. Voila!”

Tugging on on a velvet rope, Mabel caused a set of curtains arranged in a triptych to slide open. Pacifica stared aghast at a trio of tapestries depicting a familiar yellow triangle floating above scenes of unending deprivation and horror. “So you decided when decorating your new house that a critical feature, before painting the bathroom walls even, would be to erect a shrine to Bill Cipher? Have you gone completely round the bend?”

“It’s not a shrine worshipping Bill, dummy. These tapestries are just sick as hell.” Arranged on shelves beneath each of the three tapestries were an array of arcane objects. Mabel cradled a pyramidal prism in her hand but there were also scrolls and spell books, quill pens, and even a brass orrery. Mason would probably have concocted a study like this, if Pacifica had been willing to let him remodel their house, though she doubted he would have endorsed this subject matter. Mabel being the architect behind its design seemed to stretch credulity.

Pacifica knelt down to examine one of the tapestries, noticing a discolouration around the base. Some of the patterned fabric was obscured by black splotches. “Was this burned?”

Mabel guiltily returned the prism to its place in the tableau. “I kinda pulled it out of a fire. A lot of this stuff comes from Grunkle Ford’s old relic collection. Back from when he was being tricked by Bill into building the portal. After Weirdmageddon we made a big bonfire to get rid of all that nasty junk.”

“But you had your eyes on a fetching demon tapestry? Nothing you do is normal, is it?”

“That’s the way I like it.”

The other two tapestries featured illustrations that less obviously matched the dream demon, rendered in more abstract tones of red and black. One on the far right caught Pacifica’s eye. There was no top hat or arms attached to this grey triangle, and the serpent-like slitted eye was blood crimson. Beneath the ominous symbol were prostrated figures, cowering under the branches of a burnt tree and surrounded by piles of bones. “I swear I’ve seen some of these designs before.”

“That’s cause you probably have,” Mabel said, a light crimson colour rising in her cheeks. “I cribbed these two tapestries off of McGucket.”

Pacifica snapped her fingers. “Of course, they used to hang in the Northwest mansion. The southwest corridor to the drawing room if I’m not mistaken.”

“You have a good memory, probably.” Mabel shrugged. “All I know is your parents used to own them.”

Pacifica failed to stifle an involuntary shudder. The thought that her parents would willingly collaborate with such an evil presence briefly passed through her mind, before she dismissed it equally swiftly. “I wouldn’t put too much stock in it. You know what this town is like with triangles.” Over all the centuries of his involvement in mortal affairs Bill’s presence had seeped into the wider culture. Even as a kid she’d seen yellow triangles graffitied on bridges or etched into countertops. It was endemic. “I reckon this is old Modoc Indian weave-work. I’ve seen some similar patterns before. If my dad ever had anything to do with Cipher he renounced it all after what that monster did to him. I still get nightmares about that gruesome face.”

“Well that’s why we’re here. To get rid of all those pesky nightmares, anxieties, and postpartum depressive episodes!” Mabel put a hand on her friend’s shoulder, then leant in to whisper in her ear. “Between us sisters, he still freaks me out too. The worst nightmares are the ones he appears in, because-“

“You can’t tell if it's the real him or not!” Pacifica excitedly finished in shared sympathy.

Mabel looked left and right as if afraid of being eavesdropped. “Do you think the thing you’re hunting tonight is anything as bad as Mr Top Hat and Bowtie?”

Pacifica listed with her fingers. “Terrifying? Yes. Nightmare-inducing, you’d better believe it. Traumatising for life? Jury’s still out.”

“Well, it’ll be a real adventure finding out!” Pacifica couldn’t tell if Mabel was being genuinely optimistic or simply teasing. “Mind out the way.” Mabel crouched down and rolled up a woollen rug that covered almost all the floor. Pacifica only had a second to glimpse swirling calligraphy patterns. “Got this rug from Grand Bazaar in Istanbul one time I was visiting,” Mabel explained, shrugging. “What can I say, a gal likes her souvenirs.”

That much was true. Pacifica had seen the boxes Mabel filled with sentimental old junk lying around the house. Her previously transient lifestyle meant she’d made use of a lot of long term storage lockers, or otherwise hauling heaps of her stuff everywhere. At least now she had a permanent residence she’d have somewhere to leave it all while out campaigning.

Pacifica tapped a finger on the sharp point of one of the glass prisms, watching the miniature rainbow it cast. “So what’s all this in aid of? A private little side room for when you’re feeling particularly occultish on a Friday night?” She suppressed a small chuckle. “Were you on drugs when you made this?”

Mabel rolled her eyes. “Oh ha ha, go for the cheap jokes. I did something called ‘using my imagination’.”

The way her friend had snapped back at her made Pacifica wince. “Sorry, that was rude of me.”

Mabel made an easy smile and placed a palm on the menagerie of trees above Pacifica’s heart. “All is forgiven.”

Pacifica didn’t feel like she deserved to be let off the hook so easily. She’d have to work better on not being so insensitive. “I meant it Mabel. I apologise for being so crass with you and Zera tonight. I lashed out and you didn’t deserve that. I’ve just been so tensed up today. No, not just today. All month. This might be the kind of room you’d find in a serial killer cultist mansion, but there’s a consistent aesthetic to design. It has atmosphere.”

“Not bad for a college dropout,” Mabel said, winking up at her. “I am a master craftsman at anything I put my mind to.”

Pacifica smirked. “Like that ‘super secret craft project’ you’ve been working on but haven’t told anyone yet?”

Mabel whirled around in shock, her smugness immediately punctured. “Wait what, how’d you know about that?”

“All those furtive phone calls and texts over Christmas? It was hard to miss when we were all under your parents’ roof. Plus you were hardly being subtle. So what’s this one about? Art piece? Your own line of hot tubs?”

Mabel bent down beneath the triptych where sets of drawers were inset in the wall and mumbled to herself. “Great, another secret I failed to keep. You’ll find out when I’m good and ready this time, Paz.” Pacifica graciously accepted this crushing loss and watched Mabel as her outstretched finger hovered over the drawers “Let’s see, left side we got smokables, right side is the painkillers, centre bottom is… aha! The acid drawer!”

“So when I mentioned drugs I wasn’t far off?” Pacifica offered.

Mabel, oblivious, scrambled around on all fours, using a stick of chalk to draw five straight lines directly onto the wooden floorboards. The lines formed a pentagon about 25 inches across. Mabel pointed at the blank space within the lines. “Now, sit.”

“Do I have to?”

“It’s part of the ritual. You don’t just take a hit of the drug, you’ve gotta get your brain in the right state. That’s what the whole room is for, the eight sides reflect and refract mental energy. I can get you a cushion if it’s easier?”

“No, I’ll accept your cruel and unusual method of helping me.” Pacifica sat cross-legged in the pentagon, internally reflecting on Mabel’s particular spiritual leanings. When it came to religions Mabel treated them like a buffet, picking and choosing traditions and beliefs from all over the place. She thought back to Mason’s earlier words about gullibility, wondering if he’d been too harsh. When the world they lived in already contained such multitudes, what was the harm in embracing a little madness?

Mabel hurried about to pore over one of the shelves, making a great clattering when she tripped over some keepsake or another. Pacifica grinned to herself. She studied her friend’s movements. Mabel had all the grace and elegance of a controlled demolition. Somehow she’d learnt how to counteract her innate clumsiness by predicting every stumble and fall milliseconds before the fact and shifting the balance so she stayed perfectly upright. She would dance about gently on tiptoes, seeming always one instant away from collapsing to the floor but never tipping over that critical threshold. It was quite an impressive achievement, though Pacifica would baulk at describing it as balletic.

Mabel rummaged around in one of the drawers, tossing items out of the way, before producing a plastic bag full of colourful sweets. “Have some gummy koalas. You’re gonna need the energy.”

Pacifica took a handful and swallowed them down gratefully. Today had taken a lot out of her. It wasn’t just the exertion; her mind was worn out and frenzied. She hoped the rest of the night would lend her clarity, if nothing else.

Awkwardly shoving mementoes aside to make room, Mabel slapped down a round CD player of a type Pacifica hadn’t seen in nearly 25 years. Clasping a disc in one hand, her friend clumsily dropped it into the player and pressed a button with a loud click. The sound of smooth saxophone and lounge piano quietly filled the chamber. Mabel snapped her fingers at Pacifica. “Close your eyes.” Pacifica begrudgingly did as instructed. “That’s it, good. Calm your breathing, open your mind, and appreciate the contours of the chamber. I’ll be your guide for your journey on the cosmic express!”

Pacifica cracked an eye open, unable to resist a minor snort of laughter. Her sliver of view showed Mabel retrieving a hefty leather bound tome, covered in strange symbols. She craned her neck, trying to get a better look. “Is that one of the journals?”

Mabel blew on the book, sending dust swirling around in the tight confines of the room and causing Pacifica to sneeze. “No peeking. This is the Bardo Thodol: The Tibetan Book of the Dead,” Mabel said matter-of-factly. “Found it in a flea market.” It was official: Mabel Pines was the world’s biggest hoarder. “It’s the 1975 translation.”

“Wow, I can’t believe I’m putting my life into the hands of someone who can’t even read Tibetan. Lame.” She only half covered up her trepidation with a grin. “Why exactly is this book relevant?”

“It’s one of the major arcana when it comes to recreational tripping. It features Buddhist teachings on how to reach intermediate dream states, like the brink of death, sensations of rebirth, that kind of thing. Once the hippies got their hands on it they opened all new avenues of consciousness. With my help you’ll be able to ascend into a drug induced mania, where you’ll hopefully find the ape ghoul thingy.”

Pacifica took a moment to digest Mabel’s words, then gave a long breath out. “Not to cast shade, but that doesn’t sound like it will work. Getting high to catch a demon? Really, Mabel?”

Ignoring her friend’s pessimism, Mabel continued her frenzied dance around the tight space. At each of the five corners of the pentagon she set down a candle and lit each one. Pacifica felt confined, unwilling to move a muscle out of position lest she knock one of them over.

“Ritual can be a tricky thing,” Mabel said as she waved a match to put out the flame, “but believe me, it works. I’ve experienced it. If you think Gravity Falls is strange normally then you ain’t seen nothing. There’s a whole other side to this town.” She picked up the chalk and started linking the corners of the pentagon with straight, criss-crossing lines. Pretty soon Pacifica was enclosed in an even smaller floor space at the centre of a pentagram. “I’m not talking about the sub-realms like the Unicorn glade or the Crawlspace. This perception of the Falls can only be accessed by guided meditation, aided by a little boost from my good friend Lucy.”

“Who’s-”

Mabel triumphantly set a small vial down on the floor by Pacifica’s feet, inviting her to take a look. The vial was filled with a clear liquid that congealed slightly when Pacifica shook the glass container. “Trust you to have a supply handy,” she muttered.

“That’s some genuine lysergic acid diethylamide, LSD for short. Perfect for inducing otherworldly vision states and dissolution of the self. I bet that skull you’re wearing is probably infused with a trace element of something similar. Maybe something like magic mushrooms, though in a quantity that’s barely detectable. So, you ready to take your first trip?”

Pacifica swilled the chemical around experimentally. “What if I have a bad reaction? God knows my body is still flooded with hormones.”

Mabel screwed up her face. “After six months? Nah. I’ll be here in hand if you have any bad reactions, and I’ll keep the dosage nice and low for your first time, don’t worry. A couple of micrograms should do it.” Inserting a pipette she extracted a handful of drops. “It’s easy really, mixing and diluting to create my own brews.”

“Alright, calm down Walter White. Mabel Juice and Smile Dip addled your brain and you need ever stronger doses to hit the same high, huh?”

Mabel shrugged and flashed a wicked smile. She swung the pipette towards Pacifica. “Now, open wide. A drop or two on the tongue should do it.” Pacifica recoiled, keeping her mouth clammed up like when Leah refused to eat her baby food.

“I’m… not sure about this. Maybe in the morning we can search for the Unshriven again, with clearer heads.”

Mabel frowned. “It might not still be lurking around by tomorrow. You’ve gotta face it down on its home turf. The astral plane.” She made an arc with her hand. Pacifica found it silly how childish her friend could make this sound. The Unshriven was a matter of life and death. “The mindscape can be accessed by certain spells, but a raw approach can be more rewarding. It’s kinda like knitting a sweater. The warp and weft of time and space can be tamed with a little expansion of consciousness. You won’t even need to leave this room.”

“Are you sure you're not just hallucinating during these ‘spirit journeys’? That would be the more obvious explanation. You’re really trying to tell me you’ve stumbled onto a mystical sub-realm all on your own? Mason’s never mentioned anything like this. Nor your uncle Ford in all his journals.”

“They don’t know everything.” Mabel winked.

Her irreverent dismissal rankled. Corduroy had expressed similar sentiments. Pacifica could accept the locals might have some innate cultural knowledge the journals were lacking, but this was on a grander scale. An entirely new way of seeing the Falls, just a few drops of a chemical away. When she put it like that there was a certain tantalising allure to the prospect.

The journals had always been a means of cataloguing the oddities of the Falls, making sense of the insanity, boxing the phenomena into neat categories. Here was Mabel casually coming along and blowing up the entire paradigm. Pacifica refused to believe it had been an entirely futile effort. Whatever happened tonight she would venture forth and bring back a report to add to her journal, and colonise some small corner of the extremities of the strange.

“Alright. I’ll do it.” Pacifica didn’t second-judge the statement. It would be her last, definitive word. What came next would be her own choice to confront.

“Great!” Mabel said, beaming with joy, before taking on a more serious conviction. “Oh, and by the way, before we start I wanted to say sorry for another reminder about you know who.” Mabel gestured at the purloined Northwest tapestries. “If it's not too much to ask, when was the last time you spoke to them?”

Pacifica folded her arms and leant back as far as she dared without bumping into the candles. “We email from time to time. Strictly on the short end, mainly life updates. They tell me about some successful trade deal, I share baby photos of Leah. That’s about it. I haven’t spoken to them face to face since the wedding.”

Mabel blew air out from her cheeks. “Wow, eight years. Impressive streak. Puts into perspective the five years we went without seeing each other.”

“I hope I’ve been able to make up for lost time in the last three.” Making a quick judgement, Pacifica reached up and put a hand on Mabel’s arm. “Hey, before I do this… thanks for helping out tonight. I’ve been in a rough place and you didn’t hesitate to try and make it better. You know I’m being serious when I say this because I hate the word, but: we’re besties. Spouses not included.”

“Aw, Paz, that’s so sweet of you!” She leant in for a hug. Though she was still dripping wet and her skin was clammy, Pacifica accepted the warm embrace from the brunette. Setting her hands on each of Pacifica’s shoulders, Mabel guided her back into the seating position within the pentagram. “Ok, last chance to back out. I know I’ve made it my lifestyle, but I don’t want to sugarcoat it too much. This process isn’t always pleasant. It has to break you down before it can build you back up. Remember, you don’t have to do this.”

“I don’t have to do anything. There are no monsters rampaging around a city, no rare cryptids to protect. The only stakes are whether I can mend some turmoil between two families… and maybe find some peace of mind.”

Mabel softly grinned. “Those sound like big enough stakes to me, honey.”

Steeling herself, Pacifica put on the fur hat as a totem of good luck. “Look after my journal for me,” she said. “When I get it back I don’t want to see any illicit crayon scribbles.”

While Mabel avoided eye contact and checked her concoction one last time, Pacifica snuck a glance at her phone. She was mildly surprised to see it was only 2am - she felt like it should be much later. Her home screen, the background of which was a photo of Merrise holding Leah as they jointly rested on the couch at home, displayed a single notification. It was a message from Mason from an hour ago telling her was heading to bed. Pacifica once again felt the bond of trust, that Mason didn’t stay up on her account, having faith she’d overcome any challenge she set herself. She also guessed that he was probably a little anxious about where she was, even if he wasn’t admitting it. She fired across a short text saying she was alright and would be back in the morning. The instant after getting confirmation that it had been sent she received a thumbs up in return. He was watching out for her. Pacifica put the phone away, safe in the knowledge that Mason would sleep well knowing she was in no danger. No immediate danger at least.

Mabel cleared her throat and spread her arms out above her head, beginning a proclamation. “It’s time. The osprey skull will be your anchoring thread, tying you to the Unshriven so you can combat him on the astral plane. You’re all ready to go, prepared to take the plunge, embrace the strange, taste of the forbidden fruit.”

Pacifica shooed her fussy friend away. “Relax, it’s not my first cosmic dream vision.” She stuck out her tongue and waited patiently. Mabel squeezed out two tiny drops of acid. Pacifica detected a bitter taste, but otherwise couldn’t sense any stronger flavour.

“It should take a few minutes to kick in.” Mabel moved subtly over to the shrines and the CD player. She turned the volume on the muzak down. “Oh, and if you see any geometric forms don’t buy what they’re selling.”

“I won’t,” Pacifica said with a sly smile. Mabel sounded less like an anarchist and more like a kids show host.

“Now, close your eyes, relax, and expand your horizons.”

With a click, Mabel moved onto the next music track and turned the volume to max. This was nothing like the passive ambiance of the jazz. A solo sitar chord echoed off the octagonal wood panelling. Already Pacifica was unsettled. The sitar reverberated off the walls and through her bones. It wasn’t a pleasant sound, the rhythms discordant and overlapping with one another. The sitar had an artificial twang, electronically synthesised. A low hiss, the artefact of the old player, only heightened the sense of eeriness.

Very soon Pacifica was no longer aware of Mabel’s presence, fussing about around her, nor of the surrounding room. As the sitar increased in tempo she felt adrift from the normality of the simple room in the simple house. She tried in vain to focus on the feeling of the wood panels beneath her rear, but this too dissipated away like a half-remembered dream.

Now what was she supposed to do? “Mabel?” Nothing. No sound. Only the barest hint of flickering candles. Even the haunting sitar echoed as if distant. Maybe more time was needed to let the effects of the drug become noticeable. She kept her eyes resolutely sealed shut and tried to picture in her mind an image of the Unshriven. The bared tusks glinted a dull eggshell white over black fur, as dark as driving on the interstate out of the valley at night. The image quickly faded. A memory, that was all. She couldn’t actually find her target by wishing hard enough.

A blur danced at the edge of her vision, in the black space behind her eyelids. Her blood ran cold. The Unshriven was there, lingering like a bad penny in the corner of her eye. But that was ridiculous. It couldn’t be as simple as this. It was all psychedelic hokum. A drawing on the floor, some candles and low lighting, a few words of guidance. Surely she wasn’t that suggestible?

She peeked her eyelids open and gasped in rapidly surmounting horror. The walls of the room were melting away like paint dribbling off a canvas, like wax on a candle. Of Mabel there was no sign. Pressure built behind her eyes and she was unable to prevent herself falling backwards into the newly formed expanse of emptiness.

In a free fall, air rushed past her. Fragments of Mabel’s shrine went flying by, shattered glass fragments, torn threads, and broken planks of wood spinning into the abyss. Pacifica flailed out for any kind of support. She only succeeded in sending herself spinning.

Abruptly she came to a halt, suspended horizontally. She blinked and tried to understand what she was seeing. No matter how disorientated she told herself it was her own brain that was the cause, random synapses firing under the delirious effects of a potent chemical. Unless she’d already entered the so-called ‘other side’ of Gravity Falls.

Gradually the darkness resolved beneath her. She began to glide downwards, no longer in deleterious descent. Stretched out in front of her eyes was a round, grey basin. The scale put her off at first. Everything was rendered in miniature, as if viewed through a microscope. Recognition sparked in her mind when she saw a pair of dramatically split rocky outcroppings. The view was in fact her home - the valley of Gravity Falls, lit in a harsh contrasting monochrome.

She strained to make out details. The mountains around the town and the dome-shaped hill of Crash Site Omega were visible, as vast defining parts of the landscape, but the rest was a bleached blur that made her eyes water. It was like peering through the static fuzz of a television, trying to comprehend the image of a low resolution black & white video. No, not quite monochrome, she realised. The landscape below was lit up in contrast to the endless galaxy-filled sky above. She was seeing through a form of night vision.

Propelled downwards at high speed, her body swept over the treetops. She moved in graceful arcs, her motion that of a bird of prey. She stared down at the osprey amulet but saw only a pair of feathery wings on either side of her body. Part of herself accepted the transformation. If becoming an osprey was a requirement to traverse the spirit realm then who was she to argue?

Swooping past the outskirts where Mabel and Zera’s abode was found, she traced an invisible ley line through the woods. In this perception there were no modern structures, merely half-formed echoes. The town high-street was an assemblage of foundations etched in swirling purple contours. Singular eye-bats drifted in flocks, observing all that transpired.

Pacifica landed on an outcrop of bare granite, her body seamlessly returning to her basic human form, flaws and all. She tried to take a closer look around but her vision was swamped with distracting shimmers. A spotlight trained on her face would be less blinding. Stumbling forwards she left the site of the town behind almost too swiftly. Space was compressed as she was shuttled along a conveyor belt across the divots and hillocks of the valley bottom.

Dizzy, she fell against the trunk of a tree. The wood snapped and collapsed. The pallid grey bark made Pacifica throw up her palms. It was diseased, near dead. The bark oozed sickly globs of congealed fluid. Pacifica watched in stunned bewilderment as the putrescent sap drifted up into the air. The texture was akin to blood, but paler, a mix of scarlet and pink. The globules vanished up into the spiral of stars suspended in the firmament.

Pacifica’s urge to flee became overwhelming again. That was when she really became frightened. The Unshriven was right in front of her, breath hot in her face. It was even more pungent than when she’d come close to the ape in the flesh. The odour was that of repression, of paper and leather left so long that it rotted into mulch, of sticky sweat clinging to skin during every vulnerable moment, and everything that signalled death. The creature reared up on its stubby legs and roared. The skin below its neck started melting away, rolling off the torso like cooking meat, exposing bone and sinew. It had found a way to become even more abhorrent.

Pacifica’s grasp on the situation deteriorated to the point she felt faint. Her legs gave out from beneath her and she tumbled to the cold and sterile earth. Her back impacted on a soft bed of grass. She blinked twice. Bemused and pleasantly surprised to see no sign of the Unshriven, she rose unsteadily. A meadow of gently swaying tall grass, lit golden by a half-set sun, surrounded her. In one direction were vast cliffs towering over an ocean of raging tides. In the other, a castle delicately perched atop a conical mountain peak. Pacifica was at peace here in the warm breeze. She screwed her eyes shut and remembered.

This was Dimension 52. A realm so distant from her own that it hardly felt real at all, even when she’d visited in-person. That trip hadn’t been long after her body had been irrevocably altered, purged of all scars and skin marks. It was where she’d had her first realisation that life would never go back to the way it had been before. This was the world on which Leah had been conceived.

For the first time a frenzied panic overcame Pacifica. Leah was conceived in another dimension. The simple fact now terrified her. She’d never even thought about it, about what it meant for a child to develop inside her across multiple universes, where the laws of physics were malleable. There was every chance that she’d suffered acute radiation poisoning from all their hops between dimensions. What could that do to a growing embryo? For all she knew it had caused irreversible birth defects for her child.

That didn’t make sense. Leah was perfect. Her new reproductive system was freshly minted after all, and six months had shown her no indications of illness or disorder from her baby. Unless it was a fragile window of normality before the horrors came crashing down.

The light of Dimension 52’s sun winked out. Gusts of wind blew against Pacifica’s exposed arms and grass tickled her ankles, though these sensations soon disappeared as well. She shielded her eyes when a single harsh light burst into existence above her. The intensity made her stumble. She knew this place too. Not here. Anywhere but here.

Crumpling against asphalt, a great weight held her down. Spitting rain and tears obscured her sight but she couldn’t mistake the light pouring from the open window. The house she’d shared with Mason in Jersey had never been inviting. Now she dreaded the very sight of it. This was her lowest moment, when she’d convinced herself that even the ones she loved most didn’t want to be around her. When her infertility had finally become impossible to ignore and utter despair felt like the only path available.

“No, please,” she whimpered, her throat ragged. Through the haze in her mind she tried to focus on her happiest memories. Surely that would work to keep herself anchored. She pictured squid whales dancing through an ocean in the sky. Her first kiss, music thudding through her entire body, her heart beating even stronger. The gift of a yellow sweater, specially re-knitted just for her. She tried hardest to imagine her daughters wrapped in her arms. Her two baby girls were like smoke, intangible and gone from her embrace.

Her stomach gurgled uncontrollably. A yawning dread opened up before Pacifca. She knew it was about to get worse. Contractions wracked her lower body, sending spasms through her legs. Her hand gripped against her shirt and failed to stem the awful churning inside. She could feel movement below the skin of her belly as it flexed and gurgled. Fleshy lumps pressed out from within. Pacifica laid back, screaming through the unimaginable pain.

A gaping hole tore asunder between her legs. Muscles painfully forced a living creature out of her womb. It slopped on the ground, coated in internal fluids and blood, tied to her by a pale umbilical cord. Pacifica’s daughter stared up at her with bloodshot, unblinking eyes. Her daughter had no skin. Pacifica decided that screaming again was besides the point. She curled up in the foetal position, as helpless as her child.

She was paralysed in the rain, pathetic and helpless. The light in the house was switched off. Not even Mason would come from her this time. She was an infertile wreck, unfit for motherhood, let alone heroics. Everything her parents had said about her was right.

A light pierced the edge of her vision. Above her Corduroy’s judging face leered. Which Corduroy it was, the father she’d pledged to help or the daughter she’d failed to save, didn’t matter. The gaze penetrated her useless body all the same.

“Get up.” Pacifica raised her head at the voice, barely daring to believe it. “Get. Up. Pacifica.” She groped in the air for a supportive hand, dropping it down again as she was overcome with fatigue.

“I can’t… why do you think I can do this?”

“Because, whether Northwest, or Pines, or something else, you are a warrior. You struck out from your parents, your wealth, your legacy. The only person who can define who you are is staring at you in the mirror.” Corduroy offered a helping hand. “So. Get up.”

Surging with a burst of energy, Pacifica accepted the outstretched hand and climbed out of the puddle of despair. She shuddered, finding herself alone again. No helping hand, no nightmarish homunculus of her daughter. Her surroundings had been replaced by the lifeless woods once more.

She wasn’t infertile. Quite the opposite. Pacifica wasn’t sure which alternative made her more uncomfortable at the moment. She didn’t want to be reduced to this, to sinew and bone and organic processes deep inside. But then, what was this drug trip if not another physical process?

Striving for something inside herself she didn’t fully understand, Pacifica took the first step forwards, stumbling towards salvation.

#gravity falls #gravity falls fanfic #pacifica northwest #mabel pines #tw drugs

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