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blueberrysnake · 1 year

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Grian in a coma what will he do

Summary: Scar took one look at a Grian that was basically in a coma and said: Hippity Hoppity, you are my property. Here's the story.

Inspired by: @transcarcinization

Set in Limited life, Session 3.

Chapter 1/1

On ao3 if you prefer: https://archiveofourown.org/works/46382284

Word count: 1389

"I'm going to the bread bridge, Mom!" Scar called out to Cleo, a smile audible in his voice.

Cleo would ask why the man wanted to go to their enemies' base, but she had a feeling she already knew the answer. She had a feeling it had to do with what Jimmy had posted in the world chat just a few minutes prior.

SolidarityGaming: Hey guys, Grian isn't feeling so well so he's going to be asleep this session, so don't have any code emergencies or anything. He's currently out cold.

"Okay, be safe, yeah?" Cleo responded, debating on whether or not she should warn the bad boys of Scar's plan. She decided against it because she wanted to see how it would play out.

Not twenty minutes later, though, she saw Scar running towards their base, or rather, rowing a boat into it. In the back of the boat was a llama, with a very unconscious Grian laying on it. She elected to go down and help the man get into the base with the animal.

"Thanks, this is harder than it looks," Scar said, wiping a bead of sweat off of his forehead.

"No problem now we have to get him into a secure room that the other Bad Boys can't get into."

They decided to just put him in a small cave underground. There's no use trying to make the place a sleeping man is in look good if he's not waking up anytime soon.

"So, when is he supposed to wake up, Scar?" Cleo asked once Grian was secure in his hidey-hole.

"Oh, I asked Jimmy that, and he said Grian is basically in a coma! Isn't that cool?" Scar said, clearly pleased with himself for being able to kidnap an unconscious man.

"SCAR! THAT'S NOT GOOD!" He needs medical treatment if he's in a coma from an illness!" Cleo exclaimed, suddenly very worried about the ill man they trapped in a bunker.

"Well- It's not like anyone here has the technology or spare resources for treatment," Scar explained, looking away from the angry woman. "And it's not like he's so sick he'll die! He's only got a low fever for an avian!"

"What do you mean? If he's passed out, he's clearly very ill!"

"Oh, you see, Mom, Grian is an avian hybrid, and avians deal with sicknesses differently. They almost always pass out when they get sick, and they are very warm-blooded hybrids. Therefore, their temperature is also normally high enough that what would be concerning for a human is normal or even too cold for an avian sometimes!" Scar explained as well as he could, trying to calm Cleo down.

He didn't want Cleo mad and didn't plan to give Grian back to the bad boys. It would not be funny to give Grian back to his group. He needed to see the look on the others' faces when they realized that Scar had Grian-napped the man they were supposed to be bodyguarding!

"Uh- Scar, the bad boys are here!" Cleo said, breaking the man out of his thoughts.

"SCATTER!"

As it turns out, Cleo did not hear the bad boys, and she instead heard Bdubs approaching the group's base. Scar worried that Bdubs would immediately type in chat that Grian was missing, and also found inside the rock base.

"Scar, what is that noise?" Bdubs asked, referring to the faint sound of snoring from below where the man was standing.

"What do you mean, Bdubs? I don't hear anything!" Scar replied, a bit more on edge than he was usually.

"There's a quiet sound of like, I don't know, snoring?" Bdubs pulled out his pickaxe, "I think it's coming from below us."

"I think you're paranoid, Bdubs, and I will not let you turn the rock upside down in search of a nonexistent threat!" Exclaimed the businessman, jumping in front of the path of the other man's pickaxe.

"WOAH- Scar! Be careful!" Bdubs had to stop his swing to protect Scar, nicking him. "You could've- you really don't hear anything?" Confused and concerned, Bdubs took a moment to listen again, and it was still there!

"I don't. I think that this whole thing-" Scar motioned to the air around the two for added effect, "is taking its toll on you. Maybe you need a rest."

Feeling very much embarrassed and his resolve utterly defeated, Bdubs decided to go find a bed to lie down in. Clearly, the man was simply too tired to think straight.

Meanwhile, Scar was shocked that he got Bdubs to not be suspicious of Grian’s loud snoring. That man either is very sick or needs to see a doctor after all this is over.

Scar decided to go check on the poor comatose man, pulling out his pickaxe to mine down to where he had Grian trapped. He blocked off the hole as he went, not wanting anyone to trip and fall.

When Scar got down to Grian, he could tell the man was still out like a light. Reaching into his inventory, Scar grabbed his thermometer and stuck it in Grian’s mouth.

He waited for a while, before hearing the familiar quiet beep-beep that signified that the temperature was ready to be checked. It was 105° Fahrenheit. Great, Grian had said in the past that his normal body temperature was about 40° Celsius.

The only problem was, Scar didn't know how to convert Fahrenheit to Celcius, and vice versa. So, he had to find someone who did know-how, to make sure that Grian was okay.

Scar pulled out the world chat on his comm, and typed out a message.

GoodTimeWithScar: Hey anyone knows what 40 Celcius is in Fahrenheit?

SolidarityGaming: It's about 104, I think?

SolidarityGaming: Why?

GoodTimeWithScar: Just curious, thanks!

SolidarityGaming: No problem!

"okay, little birdie, it looks like you only have a low fever, then. That's good." Scar said, in a baby voice while talking to the unconscious man.

Then, Scar noticed a lot of pinging coming from his comm, the type that was notified when a message has been sent by someone.

Smallishbeans: Hey btw Jim have you seen Grian?

SolidarityGaming: WHat? He's missing?

Smallishbeans: I guess, yeah.

Smallishbeans: Hey has anyone seen a short man in a bad boy tm leather jacket?

ZombieCleo: He's over at the rock. Scar took him.

SolidarityGaming: I swear. We're on our way.

Scar sighed. He expected his psudo mom to betray him, but so easily and quickly? He was just about to try to move Grian to a new spot when he heard commotion from above that sounded suspiciously like the bad boys, minus Grian.

"WHERE IS HE?" He heard Jimmy ask, pretty frantic.

"Down there. Just mine down," Cleo responded, sounding apologetic. "I'm sorry. I thought you guys knew Scar took him."

"It's okay, we just need to get him to our base. We promised we'd protect him." Joel responded.

Then, Scar heard digging down towards him. He paniked, and drew his sword as a block of the ceiling got mined up and two men fell out of the hole.

"Scar, we need him back." Jimmy stated, eyes narrow. Both bad boys noticed how Scar had his sword out, and readied their own weapons.

"Why have you taken him in the first place?" Joel asked, clearly confused with the situation.

"Well- I don't know? For fun?" Scar answered. As he did, he noticed Jimmy trying to edge towards Grian. Scar raised his sword to a fighting stance and pointed the tip of it at Jimmy.

"WOAH- Scar, calm down! I need to get him to take care of him!" Jimmy exclaimed, raising his hands and jumping when he noticed he'd been threatened.

With all his attention on Jimmy, Scar didn't notice when Joel grabbed the llama and boat and booked it out of the two block wide entrance to the hidey hole.

It wasn't until Joel was out of the hole that Scar actually realized what had happened. He made an aborted move to chase Joel, and that's when Jimmy made his move to get away.

"RUN JIMMY!" Joel screamed once Grian was a safe-ish distance away, and Scar decided to give up. It was fun while it lasted, keeping a monopoly on all the Grians the sever had to offer, but nothing lasts forever.

#grian #limited life #scar #jimmy #solidarity gaming #goodtimeswithscar #sorry this is not in my schedule I needed to get this out #fanfic #blue-actually-writing #zombiecleo #cleo #bdubs #bdubbleo #sick fic #I tried

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blue-eyed-bloodstains · 1 year

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Tell me about the first five photos you have on your phone or camera. in my phone gallery, the first two are selfies. one is a close up, one’s a mirror shot. the third is of our cat and our guinea pig who passed back in September that we had since 2018 both lying next to one another on my fiance’s lap. the fourth is of just our cat on his lap. the fifth is of the same guinea pig wrapped up in a ‘hidey hole’ in the blanket on the couch.

Have you got any half or step siblings? a stepsister by marriage, and she’s the sister I never had!

Have you ever known someone online and then met them in person? If so, which website did you meet on? I’ve met several people online, two of which I consider sisters who I met in late 2007 and early 2008 respectively. I met the first one from 07 who’s name is Allie, my nickname for her is Bee, and she’s British and lives in the UK. December 2012 she got to go with her class in uni on a school trip to NY and I made damn sure I got there from NJ to finally meet her face to face. best three days of my life, despite hellish circumstances during and revolving around the trip...definitely worth it. I can’t wait to see her again hopefully in the near future since it’s been over a decade since (OMFG THAT LONG?!...)

oh and we met through roleplaying sites for the show Instant Star which was made by the producers and creators of Degrassi.

When was the last time you were sick and what illness did you have? I’m ALWAYS fuckin sick cause of my Cyclic Vomiting Syndrome...

Do you know anyone with a serious anger management problem? ha try my entire family on mom’s side, Mom being the WORST.

What color is your wallet? it’s black, gold zipper and it’s an Eevee wallet so it’s got a big pic of Eevee on it with symbols spread out in the background

Have you seen all the Lord of the Rings movies? many many times over!

Do you have an unhealthy obsession with colored furry throw pillows that are different shapes and sizes? no

Have you ever had to call the cops on someone else before? I don’t believe I ever did personally, but god knows all my life the cops have been called on us cause of the constant domestic violence with my mom and dad, and then later on because of my mom and me....

Don’t you hate it when people suddenly love a celebrity when they die? I mean I don’t take it personally but with anyone, not just celebrity but especially any human being especially those closest to you, it’s fucked up when they make such a scene after the fact rather than while they were still alive. it seems shallow as fuck and fucked up.

What was the last cocktail you drank? Jack and Coke and dear fucking god do I neeeeeeeeeed some right now!

Are you good at keeping running counts and tallies in your head? to an extent but my mind constantly runs so much and adding in my anxiety and short term memory issues...not very well or long

Are there any foods you hate the smell of but like the taste, or vice versa? hmm not sure really

Do you have a dishwasher? no and it sucks not having one

Do you make to-do lists? no

What pet names do you use for your friends/loved ones? I call everyone hun, guy or girl. obviously babe, baby for my fiance. and my two close girlfriends who I consider sisters, I call one Suga and the other Bee. we also call each other nob too. inside jokes over the years that stuck lol

What pet names do you like to be called? babe, baby, girl (in affectionate way)

Have you ever developed your own film? no

What breed was the last dog you saw? I saw a few out with their owners yesterday on the drive to and from the cancer institute...umm I can’t really remember what kinds, but I could swear one looked like a border collie :P

What’s your favorite thing to do at the end of the day? relax as much as possible, distract with tv, scrolling through my phone, cuddle with the cat

Do you have a hard time letting things go? yeah

When did you last feel fear? last week cause I slipped and it was obvious from how I was talking on the phone with mom, so needless to say I was terrified she’d text my fiance about it..

What last made you smile? phone call a little while ago with results from an ultrasound I had yesterday on my neck for an upcoming surgery, which were negative for any spreads

Have you ever walked through a sunflower field? yeah when I was very little, Mimi loved sunflowers and I have pictures of us standing in front of one...I don’t remember it though sadly

Are you a fan of Taylor Swift? What’s your favorite song from her? yeah, I’ve got several faves

What’s something great that has happened to you recently? finding out that my fiance saved up/set aside $3,000 so I can finally pay off all my fines from my DUI last year and revoke my probation so it’s finally over...such a fucking unbearable weight and stress for over a year now, is finally almost done and I’ll be free of it hanging over us...

Would you ever paint your bedroom bright blue? not bright but my bedroom at my dad and stepmom’s house I had painted a slate blue shade so it’s kinda on the semi darker side..kinda grayish blue similar to Tumblr homepage but lighter

What’s your favorite way to eat rice? with a fork, and with soy and duck sauce. I can’t use chopsticks to save my life lol

What’s something that has really impacted your life? so many things that I really can’t get into right now...

What did you last have as a snack? David brand pumpkin seeds with the shell (the same brand that makes the best sunflower seeds)

Do you like lima beans? they’re okay

How many bottles do you see from where you’re sitting? a few, wish they were alcohol

Do you ever do these surveys with your SO? no

Do you have a waste basket in your car? currently don’t have a car, but usually do a trash bag hooked around the stick shift, fiance does the same thing but he rarely uses it XD he just tosses stuff in the back or on the passenger side floor where I sit when I’m in it with him

What’s the last wild animal you have seen? birds around our house, and yesterday on the way to the cancer institute we saw a wild turkey along the side of the road :D we get those from time to time around here given all the land and farms

Something you were surprised to learn about your parent’s childhood? just how much partying and drugs they really did compared to the lighter version of honesty I got from them all my life...explained sooooooo much of my very young years (baby-7 years old)

Have you ever told a friend you thought their parent was hot? not to their face...XD

Have you ever destroyed another person’s belongings out of anger? no I grew up with shit being busted and thrown and used as a weapon even, I could never do that ever...

Which painkiller do you use? usually Ibuprofen/Excedrin. I have a prescription for Fioricet which is as needed for severe migraines, which I’ve had all my life genetically from my grandfather on mom’s side but the last several years I’ve weirdly been okay so yeah just over the counter mostly

Would you like to be part of a wedding party? I’ve been a guest to a few, but yeah to actually be like say a bridesmaid would be cool...although I’m waiting on my own wedding right now

Have you ever thrown anything up to hang on the power/phone lines? no

Something you taught yourself how to do? tie my hair in a ponytail and never looked back, write songs, some “feminine” needs...

What is the last song you listened to in a car? we weren’t playing any music yesterday, so I guess the radio station my last Uber had on which was on March 28th

Do you currently feel calm? yeah I’m okay right now

If applicable, what’s your favorite sports team? GB Packers, NY Giants, NY Jets

When did you last sign your signature? about an hour or so ago for a specialty med that was dropped off at my door. I had to sign the receipt to send back to them for no copay, that I received it, and to sign up for text message notifications regarding getting refills and shipping

What cover do you think is better than the original song? definitely Sound of Silence that Disturbed does. David Dreyman’s voice is so fucking perfect for that song, and I love the spin on it that they did. so haunting and beautiful and emotional.

Who is the last person that gave you butterflies? my fiance every day

Are you planning on kissing anyone tomorrow evening? yeah my fiance

Have you ever told a guy you were a lesbian to get him to leave you alone? no

If you have a favorite television show, who’s your favorite character? impossible considering there’s so many shoes, let alone characters

#survey #bored #random #about me

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austencollins · 1 year

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cat's been sick -- probably lymphoma, but the immediate issue is loss of appetite (& decline that goes with that) -- and it is so unbelievably frustrating to be unable to do anything for him. Like I know I'm not good at dealing with terminal illness in general, but at least people can understand what's happening and communicate what they want done for them. Pets can't do that. They can't understand why I'm forcing them to eat a pill, or why I keep bothering them with food when they don't feel well, or why they keep getting dragged out to the vets. They can't communicate whether all these vet trips are worth it to them.

Feels weird to be posting about this, since I largely don't post anything personal; but otoh it feels incredibly weird to just. Like. Sit and deal with this in silence. Not that I don't have people irl, but it just feels incredibly hard to reach out to any of them just to basically perform my own grief at them. And he's not even dead! or like the vet explicitly told me not to hope for any change! It just feels like nothing's working or going to work. i just keep going back to the vet and I don't even feel like I know when to call and say yeah nothing's working. Even when I research treatment and ask myself if I should've done this or that earlier I don't have any clarity. And it just feels like I want to talk to someone because I want someone to explain what's happening and how to fix it (which of course no one can do) or at least reassure me that this isn't my fault & I didn't make things worse for my cat, but nobody can do that either because I do recognize this is not a logical feeling!!

It just sucks so much. I haven't even had him for over a year. My mom keeps telling me that at least this means my aunt (who I inherited my cat from) didn't have to see him like this, and that does make me feel a bit better -- but on the other hand it sucks! It absolutely sucks!! He's such a good cat and he seemed totally healthy a month or so ago, and now he's in pain and unhappy and I don't know what to do for him.

Wish I didn't have to go into the office tomorrow. He spends a lot of the time sleeping in various hidey holes so it's not like I've always got my eye on him when I'm at home, but I like being able to go check on him whenever I feel like it. Also he keeps climbing into the tub now to rest, and I'm really worried he'll get in when I'm not there and not be able to get himself out.

#personal venting stuff #oh and then on top of my cat being sick my friend is once again worrying she'll have to re-home her cat #who I took care of for most of the pandemic bc she was living with her parents & her mom hates her cat #and like. Everytime she does this it stresses me out.#Largely bc she usually does this when she's stressing out about everything & assumes she can't take care of her cat bc he hates being alone #Which at least is not the reasoning this time. But like... Ok so I could lose my cat *and* this cat I took care of for over 2 years??#Idk I need to stop blogging in the tags bc TBQH the only reason posting about my actual life doesn't give me hives #Is because I tell myself nobody reads my posts #anyway life is good in general but this particular situation really sucks and shouldn't happen

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nyxicnymph · 2 years

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Camilo's Mistaken Memory

(This is formatted on mobile don't @ me I don't have the space to get on my laptop)

Bruno Madrigal nodded his head along to the tune that his beloved family was singing. Even if they were telling little Mirabel mistaken memories and tales, the beat was good, and little Dolores was really good at singing. He'd known that she could hear him for years, of course, and he appreciated that she wasn't doing him dirty like his beloved sister, but she was rather vague at times. Then Camilo took over the song and Bruno paused, halfway back into the walls. "Seven foot frame, rats along his back! When he calls your name, it all fades to black! He sees your dreams and feasts on your screams, hey!" Bruno snorted. Where did he get these ideas? They'd only met once, and that was an accident. Bruno paused as he remembered the meeting in it's entirety.

It was over ten years ago. Bruno had thought that everyone was finally asleep, and had left the walls to sneak some food out of the kitchen. Some of the rats had come along with him, clinging to various parts of his shabby wardrobe. Bruno had just grabbed a quesadilla when a small gasp brought his heart to a stop. He spun around in fear, looking for the source of the sound. Slowly, he looked down, and saw his nephew, Camilo. The little one was obviously terrified at seeing a stranger standing in the kitchen of the unbroachable Casita, so Bruno tried to calm him down. "Hola, Camilo," Bruno whispered. The small child swayed, his eyes rolled back into his head, and he collapsed. "Oh, Díos mio," Bruno swore, catching Camilo before he hit his head. Ideally, if Bruno hadn't cared so much, he would have left the kitchen and returned to the walls then, leaving Camilo to think it was just a bad dream. Speaking of dreams, Camilo was one of those sleep talkers, and apparently his current, fear induced dream was of a large rat chasing him through a broken Casita. Bruno sighed, and squatted down next to the young boy. If he remembered correctly, Camilo had recently gotten his gift, which meant that he had his own bedroom now. He didn't want to leave the young boy in the kitchen, so he stuffed his ill-gotten gains into his poncho, and carefully lifted the boy up. "Casita," Bruno whispered, looking around. "Where is his room?" Casita rearranged the tiles on the floor to give Bruno a guide. Bruno whispered his thanks, and started following the line in the tiles. He reached the door to Camilo's room and found himself with a dilemma. If Casita couldn't do much of anything in his room, than it probably couldn't help him out by opening this door. Bruno sighed, and shifted Camilo to one arm, nice and gentle. He reached for the doorknob, pausing to shift the boy higher up so he wouldn't fall, then hastily opened the door. He found himself in a large room, with not much decoration aside from drawings and pictures of different people, and a full length mirror by the door. He walked towards the center of the room, and found a decent sized bed. He put Camilo down, and pulled the covers over him, then sighed in relief. Hopefully the boy would pass this event off as a weird dream. He looked back at the boy to see him staring back, eyes wide. Bruno panicked as he started to open his mouth to scream. "Hey, hey, hey, it's all good, little Camilo! It's just Tío Bruno! No giant rat to chase you here!" Camilo did not look relieved, but even more terrified. He opened his mouth again, and let out a shriek. Bruno jumped and started running to the door. He didn't know if Pepa, or anyone else, could hear Camilo's yelling, but he didn't want to be around to find out. "Well, now that I've got my food, I'm going to go now! Bye!" Bruno ran through the house, Casita helping him get back to his hidey hole, just before Pepa and Felix burst out of their room to comfort Camilo. Bruno stifled a sob as he sunk into his chair with his quesadilla. Even the youngest members of his family feared him. Of course they did. How could they not, with Pepa and Mama having such strong feelings about him? Bruno held himself tight as the night wore on, bringing him closet to sleep. Bruno gazed around at the construction project. It was weird being with his family again, but he was enjoying it. Still, he wanted to apologize for a bunch of things. He'd already made up with his sisters, but he wanted to speak with Camilo next. He approached the teenager nervously, and cleared his throat. Camilo turned around with a grin. "Oh! Tío Bruno!" Camilo said loudly. "It's weird actually interacting with you." Bruno sighed. "I figured as much. I need to ask you something, Camilo." Camilo crossed his arms. "Is this about the time I found you in the kitchen when I was five and the song verse I wrote about it last week?" Bruno rubbed the back of his neck. "Maybe." "Don't worry about it, Tío. I was five. And pequeño brained. Clearly that isn't who you are, or who you were. Also I was

definitely not supposed to be in the kitchen so..." Camilo shrugged. "Don't worry about it." Bruno smiled in the relief of closure. "Gracias, Camilo. You should meet Hernando." Mirabel's eyes went wide behind Camilo's back and she covered the grin on her face with her hand. She then walked up. "Oh, yes, he should!" Camilo looked between them. "Who's Hernando?" "I'm Hernando, and I'm scared of nothing!" Bruno said suddenly, hood over his face. He pushed it back as he and Mirabel doubled over in laughter, while Camilo looked between them in confusion. "Weirdos." Bruno wiped a happy tear from his eye as he stood up in the warm sunshine. Everything was going to be okay.

#nyx writes stuff #encanto #bruno madrigal #camilo madrigal #mirabel madrigal #this is about Camilo's verse in We don't talk about Bruno

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delimeful · 3 years

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you cant go back (2)

warnings: fear, miscommunication, guilt, mentions of theoretical gore/injury, dehumanization, referring to a person as 'it', general angst

For the fourth day in a row, Lady Macbeth had spurned him.

Roman frowned, pulling the strap of his messenger bag over his head and tossing it over the back of a kitchen chair.

Lady was old, smug, and occasionally very cranky, but she wasn’t deaf like Ophelia-- she always came prancing over once she heard his keys rattling in the lock, delighted at the opportunity to smear cat hair all over his pants and get her claws stuck in his shoelaces.

Yet here he stood, catless.

For the past few days, too, she hadn’t been in the house at all when he got home. He’d been downright worried that first day, uneasy until she strolled back in at dusk.

They had an expansive backyard that their younger cats took delight in frolicking in, but their second-oldest cat was a rare visitor to the outdoors. Lady was first and foremost a homebody, and she preferred a warm body to sit on. Their squishy heat-generating human bodies were the only reason she hadn’t assassinated them all in their sleep by now, according to--

Roman cut the thought off sharply, feeling familiar grief pit up in his throat. He shook his head, the motion harsh enough to make his neck twinge. There was no time for standing about and pondering! He had a cat to locate!

A determined jut to his chin, he grabbed what supplies he would need for this perilous journey-- cat treats, a catnip toy, even a tempting cardboard box-- and strode confidently out the backdoor.

For the next half-hour, he wandered around the acres of their property, greeting each of the goats and chickens by name as he checked all the most common cat hidey-holes.

He’d almost given up by the time he stumbled across the old barn, pant legs covered in burrs and the beginnings of a sunburn across the back of his neck. Whatever delightful cat secrets Lady was so busy with, surely he could discover them when it wasn’t the middle of summer.

Just before he could turn around, though, he noticed that one of the doors was just slightly ajar.

Roman felt his brow gradually scrunch up the longer he stared at it. It had been locked up after the last of the old supplies had been moved from it, hadn’t it? The last big storm had proved it wasn’t weather-worthy, his dad had plans to take it apart for timber, ones that had seemingly been forgotten after… afterwards.

Petty inconveniences of getting there forgotten, Roman crept closer on light feet, grip tight on the catnip mouse in his hand. The wind died down at an eerily perfect moment, and he strained to hear beyond those old wooden walls.

Not everything is a grand conspiracy, a voice in his head reminded him, sounding suspiciously similar to Specs, it could simply be someone without housing that took the opportunity for shelter provided by the abandoned barn.

Roman sidled halfway through the ajar door, and froze at the sight of an upright humanoid figure only a few meters away. Something about it wasn't right, instantly putting him on edge. He kept staring, waiting for his eyes to adjust.

(“I’m telling you, these lights were strange even by my standards! Almost… alien.” An unsettling grin that was a beat late.)

The figure’s head was dropped forward, but he could tell even from this distance that it wasn’t human, with shiny purple-grey segmented skin and legs with knees facing the wrong way. It had spiky shoulder joints, but its arms seemed to be tucked behind it.

(Roman had shoved him off the couch, sour about being taken in by one of his tales, and he hadn’t brought it up again.)

Most alarming of all, there were four long, spindly limbs stretched out into the air behind it, seemingly spawning from its back. The legs were spider-like in nature, but shiny instead of hairy, and each one ended in a sharp point. As he watched, he could see the limbs shifting slowly, pairs of them lifting and falling in odd synchrony with the creature’s slow breathing.

(Roman had been freaked out, and his brother had dropped the subject. He should’ve asked, he should have known something was wrong--)

“Miaow.” A plaintive voice called, nearly startling Roman out of his skin.

He tore his gaze away from the (alien) mystery intruder, and felt his jaw drop as he took in Lady Macbeth’s current position. Loafing on the feet of an insidious intruder?!

For shame, he mouthed silently at her.

Lady blinked slowly and continued to purr, unbothered by his accusatory stare. One of those spider limbs shifted again, making Roman swallow nervously. He really didn’t want to see what sort of automatic reaction an extraterrestrial’s stabby-arms would have to finding a cat in its space.

He waved the catnip mouse enticingly. Lady gave him the bland look of a cat who had preferred those expensive feather toys for as long as he had known her. Roman resisted the urge to facepalm.

The insanely dangerous method it was, then.

Putting all his sneaking skills to use, he sidled further into the barn, dropping into a crouch and beginning to creep across the dirt floor as slowly as possible. Each step was carefully placed, almost entirely silent, and whenever those freaky appendages twitched, he froze in place for a full thirty seconds.

The alien’s head remained lax (asleep?) as he drew closer, but Lady refused to entertain his desperate motions for her to leave her ill-chosen bed. At this rate, he’d have to pick her up off of it, and hope that she didn’t complain too much on the way out.

He shifted his weight forwards, and suddenly all four of the arms were still, almost taut in the air. Only a couple feet away, the alien’s head bobbed slightly. His time was up.

Clenching his teeth, Roman made a gamble.

He tossed the little mouse toy directly at the space above the alien’s head and dove for Lady.

There was a whistle, like a whip or an arrow sliding through the air, and Roman made the mistake of glancing up as soon as he had his hands securely around Lady’s body.

All four of the spider limbs had jabbed into the same point, skewering the toy from several different angles. The alien was certainly awake now, and it had four times as many eyes as any one person could reasonably need. Between one heartbeat and the next, those huge dark irises went from staring at the poor mutilated toy to staring at Roman.

Terror shot through him and he gave up on subtlety, throwing himself back as hard as he could and hoping that he made it out of range.

He landed on his back with a whomp that knocked the wind out of him, and flinched as that terrifying whistling sound split the air again, ending in a muted thump. He was so wired with adrenaline that he couldn’t tell if he’d been hit or not. Locked in his arms, Lady writhed and complained loudly.

“Not going anywhere,” Roman wheezed, “you little fiend, con-- consorting with the enemy.”

There were several more whistle-thumps, which was either very good or very bad for him. He rolled to his side, pushing himself up on an elbow and taking stock of himself, braced for the worst.

The alien was still standing there against the central support beam of the barn. Half a foot from Roman’s leg, it's very sharp extra arms had left holes pierced in the hard-packed dirt of the barn’s floor.

“But no holes in me,” Roman cheered weakly, and then shifted Lady to the crook of one arm and flipped the alien off. “Nice try, Space Invader.”

The alien made a deep clicking rumble, but stopped trying to impale him. Instead, it moved to hold all those limbs high up in the air menacingly, ready to stab down at any point. The remains of the toy mouse sat near its feet, cotton innards spilling everywhere like a grim warning.

Roman got to his own feet, wincing at the feeling of Lady’s claws poking into his ribs as she attempted to kick her way to freedom. He took a moment to stare once he was back upright.

The alien’s skin plates had gone completely pitch-black, only the slightest hints of purple between the plates to prove that there’d ever been any color to it at all. Roman was abruptly glad that he hadn’t encountered it in the dark of night.

Its eyes were just as dark, with only the slightest difference in shades of black to indicate the difference between iris and sclera. Despite his artistic eye for color differences, even Roman couldn’t tell where its pupils were. If it even had pupils.

It also was still stuck in one place, despite its legs seeming totally operational. Roman slowly shuffled to the side of it, making sure to keep a few good steps clear of stabbing range, and found that it did in fact have normal arms and hands.

Well. Mostly normal. There were five fingers, but they were all way too long and ended in thick, claw-like points. He thought they also maybe had one or two too many joints.

More to the point, the alien couldn’t do anything with these arms because they were bound together at the wrists and tied tightly to the central support beam of the barn. It was stuck there, and going by the aggressive rumbling it was doing, it knew it.

Roman pulled out his phone and managed to take a shaky video of the alien, circling around it to both get a better angle and prompt it to threateningly twitch those back limbs some more. He knew his sci fi tropes, including the one where the alien mysteriously disappears the moment the plucky protagonist tries to tell anyone about the danger. He wasn’t going to be called crazy again.

Once he was content with the amount of evidence he had, he made the trek back to the house at a near-sprint, the cat in his arms protesting all the way. He burst through the back door, letting the screen fall shut behind him, and finally allowed Lady to walk on the power of her own four paws. She beelined for the screen door, stood up on her hind legs, and rattled it expectantly.

“Absolutely not,” Roman told her firmly, nudging her away. “I don’t know what it is with you and courting death via Xenomorph, but you are henceforth banned from the outdoors.”

If angry little kitty looks could kill, Roman would be as dead as King Duncan.

Shaking his head, he went over to the ancient landline phone in their kitchen, lifted the phone from its cradle, and paused.

Who was he going to call?

He’d had some half-conceived notion of calling his parents, or that infuriating police officer, or even just 911. What would he even say? ‘Hello operator, my emergency is that I have an alien in my barn, I promise this isn’t a prank’? Even the dial tone wouldn’t believe that.

And what if they did get someone out here to verify that there was a real alien? There was little doubt in his mind that law enforcement and then the government would quickly step in, whisking the evil version of E.T. away into some distant Area 51 lab. Roman would never see it-- or get any answers from it-- ever again.

He hung the phone up with a solid click, and turned to face the kitchen.

If he was going to interrogate a hostile alien, he needed to arm himself.

---

Shockingly, when he returned to the barn, the alien was still there.

He had crept up quietly again, hoping to catch it unawares, but this time it had been staring unerringly at him from the moment he peeked through the door, those smaller, rounder eyes wide open under its main ones.

He pushed the door open further with a dramatic flourish, pretending like he hadn’t been sneaking at all.

“Alien scourge,” Roman greeted, wincing at the crack in his voice. He cleared his throat, ignoring the way the alien’s dark gaze sent chills down his spine. “I don’t know how you ended up here, but I do know that you’re going to give me the information that I need.”

He pointed the end of his weapon of choice for emphasis, and the alien recoiled with a hiss, quickly jabbing out at it with those back arms.

Just as he’d hoped, however, putting vegetable oil on the already-slick plastic handle of the kitchen broom had made it basically impossible for those single-pronged limbs to stab or grab it. He grinned triumphantly, poking the alien with the end of it. The playing field had officially been evened.

“Now, unless you want me to introduce you to the Earth concept of piñatas, you better tell me what you’re here for.”

The alien was entirely silent, watching him with those shiny, pitch-black eyes. Behind it, its spider arms were vibrating with tension, probably in preparation to stab out the moment he slipped up.

“I’m serious,” Roman warned, poking it a little harder and getting exactly nothing for his efforts, not even a glare. “I know what I saw that night, and there’s no way it’s a coincidence that now you’re here. It was an abduction."

He paused for effect, and the alien let out a series of clicks and low, warped sounds that sounded like meaningless nonsense.

"I don't speak alien." Roman frowned. "Tell me what happened. Why were you-- or, your-- your brethren or your shipmates or whatever, why were they taking people? Where did they take them?”

The alien made what sounded like the same exact series of noises. Roman groaned in frustration.

“In-- In English! You understand what I’m saying, don’t you? If aliens are real and have the technology to infiltrate Earth without being detected, they have to have some way of communicating! An insta-translator or telepathy or math nonsense or something!” He threw his arms out in frustration, making the alien twitch.

He paced back and forth for a moment, before coming to a stop in front of the alien again and leveling it with an accusatory stare. “You’re faking it. I don’t believe that you can’t understand me.”

The alien just kept staring at him, flat plates where its mouth should have been, not a single expression visible on its face. It was about as convinced by Roman’s argument as everyone else in his life, which was to say, not at all. He felt a surge of white-hot anger, and levered the broom at its neck threateningly.

“Tell me, right now!” he demanded, stinging tears building up at the corner of his eyes. “Tell me where my brother is!”

He shoved the broom further forwards, and the alien snapped its limbs forwards and knocked it away, startling him into stumbling back. It hissed at him again, stabbing at the ground like a warning. He scowled, swiping at his face with a sleeve, and swung the broom handle at it sharply.

The swing went wide, more than a foot from touching any of it, but the alien showed the closest thing to emotion he’d seen so far, half of its eyes flinching closed in anticipation. Roman felt a sickening twist in his gut, some odd mix of guilt, anger, and vindication, and he turned away sharply.

Not for the first time, he wished he’d been the one that had been taken.

Remus wouldn’t care if the stupid cops didn’t listen to him, if their parents didn’t believe him, if the whole town thought he was insane. He would know how to convince an alien to talk, would threaten to-- to crush its extra eyes or cut off limbs or do something Roman was too squeamish to even think up.

If it was Remus, it wouldn’t matter if he didn’t know what to do. He’d at least do something.

He wouldn’t be going through the motions of life like everything was the same.

Pretending had always been Roman’s specialty, after all.

Roman cast a furious glare over his shoulder at the alien, resentful that it was still staring at him even as he was in the middle of a breakdown, and tossed the broom into the corner.

“I’ll be back tomorrow,” he said, swallowing back the thickness in his voice, “and every day after that until you tell me.”

Threat delivered, he stormed out of the barn and slammed the doors shut behind him.

#sanders sides #humans are space orcs #ts roman #ts virgil #space au #humans are deathworlders #ycgb #you cant go back #my writing #writing #sanders sides fic #alien virgil

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daaziscoolbesties · 3 years

Text

minecraft endermen are really weird. theyre unnatural and make me feel off.

when i was a small child like seven years ago i would always play minecraft on creative mode and i made an ugly ass enderman "farm" made out of bricks. i had an enderman spawn egg and id just spam it and the enderman couldnt get out (so i thought). anyways having them in this enclosure was probably so i could feel "powerful" over them because to date theyre still the only mob in minecraft that makes me anxious. even above skeletons(which i used to have a horrible fear of (the real life ones not mc ones)) and spiders (which i still have a horrible fear of (again the real life ones not mc)). anyways the endermen just ended up completely teleporting out of the farm and i checked on my world the next day and they were all gone and i didnt appreciate it (this was the same world where my brother blew up my pets but thats a different story).

anyways back to endermen. besides the fact that i just didnt like dying and i did like building ugly structures, one of the main reasons i didnt play survival much for a while, or if i did id put it on peaceful, was because of the enderman. every time i passed one my heart would drop and if i happened to look it in the eye on accident my throat would feel like its closing up and idk why. if it sounds like im bullshitting you or not remembering correctly i swear im not because it still happens actually.

i play survival a ton more now simply because i enjoy it more, it feels like theres actually a goal to achieve, but i never really make efforts toward said goal(ya know, beating the dragon). none of my worlds are really created with the intention of beating the dragon, and therefore i dont have to worry about endermen. if i happen to be outside my house and theres one there, no worries i just wait for it to go away. it may spook me for a sec but im fine.

but recently me and my sister started a world with the sole purpose of beating the dragon. we may have cheated a little (like putting on keep inventory cause honestly we both suck at pvp and have died so many times) but its okay cause thats it. we still have to fight endermen to get pearls for the end portal. and so we were hanging out in the nether and made a little two block tall hidey hole and id stand by the front and taunt endermen to get them to come close so i could kill them without them being able to get to me and it worked really well actually. except for the fact that to get them to come near i had to get them to aggro onto me and to do that i have to look them in the eye and you know where this is going. and so i was like "it has been so long since i looked an enderman in the eye surely i cant still be scared of them" and i turn to my sister like "<sister> you stay in the hole ill get us some pearls"

so i go out and taunt the dudes and guess what bitch got the pit in their stomach from these fuckers!! thats right bestie and my throat started to close up and i started talking to my sister again but i could tell me voice was off from it and i dont know why it happens but it pisses me off. like theyre not even scary looking theyre just a bit odd. and i continue to do this and kill the endermen and it just. doesnt. stop. my throat keeps closing up and im not "in pain" or anything just inconvenienced like what the fuck dude its a bunch of fucking pixels. i dont know its weird.

and now this part is gonna sound super fuckin stupid but ever since i started watching dsmp i immediately got attached to ranboo (cc! and c!) and knowing that c!ranboo was half enderman made me really think "hm endermen arent that bad. granted i havent interacted with one in a while but still not that bad. perhaps my favorite hostile mob" because you know people get attached to characters and think dumb things. and then again ranboo's character straight up existing and also this one specific headcanon i saw that was like "endermen use telepathy to talk so when a player looks at them all their thoughts get projected into them and it hurts their brain :((" makes me feel kinda bad for aggro-ing them and killing them again even though its literally just some pixels dude. my brain is not kind to me about this stuff and its really dumb.

i dont know what about the endermen staring back at me sets off the sort of fight-or-flight that makes me unable to breathe for a second but its something. its not the fact that their jaws basically unhinge when theyre mad because the throat closing up sensation happens before that. it happens when i look at an enderman and it looks back up at me and holds my gaze. i dont know. i dont know why im worked up(even slightly) over a video game. theyre still my favorite hostile mob i think (not just because of ranboo honestly the other hostile mobs just kinda suck).

and also i like the idea of how humanoid they are. not human. humanoid. they have the basic aspects of a minecraft human- square, head, torso, legs, arms, eyes. most mc skins dont even have mouths anyways just eyes. but the endermen have these features differently than us. their eyes are unnatural, legs and arms too long, body all one color, one that can blend in, and you can only see its purple eyes staring you down from a distance. theyre basically just cryptids.

despite skeletons and even zombies looking closer to the player than the endermen, they still seem the most human-like of all of the mobs. they arent aggressive unless provoked. they dont like eye contact(socially awkward). they like picking up stuff and moving it around. theyre curious (i cant explain this one they just are, okay?). even the sounds they make are just phrases like "hey" "hello" "whats up" distorted and in reverse.

i want to know more about them.

i want to know where they came from.

why theyre found in every dimension.

why they sound like us.

i want explanations, i want to know why they scare us.

i want to know if they know.

if they know that we're like them in some way.

that some of us dont mean harm, but for others thats all they want to do to the endermen.

i saw a post once that said "what taught humans to be wary of things that look human, but arent?" i believe the phenomenon is called uncanny valley. what if in the minecraft universe, the thing that taught us that was endermen. or rather, the thing that taught the endermen that was us? because again, the endermen pose no threat to us unless theyre provoked. by one of us. the endermen try to communicate with us- "⊑⟒⊬" "⍙⊑⏃⏁⌇ ⎍⌿?"- but we kill them without reason. thats why they dont like eye contact, its been ingrained in them through evolution that eye contact with a human/player will end in death, and they dont want it to be theirs, so they attack first.

we- or rather, the first minecrafters, maybe (in the lore(?)) people before the game, taught the endermen to fear us. i mean we literally kill them, use their remains to enter their home dimension, and then kill their leader/mother. they do their best to stop us, but we can respawn and they cant. and then, some people even go as far as to make farms, having them all spawn in one place, crowded, cant teleport out- their only defense mechanism gone- and then are slaughtered for their pearls. and due to the mass of these farms there will be chests upon chests full of pearls that no one's using, i saw someone the other day ask what people do with them and someone straight up said they just burn them like god what a waste.

"but izzy, players make mob farms all the time and not just for endermen!!!1!!11! why are the endermen ones so bad why are you only talking about those1!1!1!!!1" 1) because i can, 2) this is an endermen-themed post, and 3) i dont like the other mobs. and of course im not actually mad at the players who like beating the game and making endermen farms and such, i mean thats what it is its all just a game just a bunch of code, 0's and 1's, so why does it matter why bother writing a whole post on it?

because when you look paste the game, when you read in between those ones and zeroes and discover this non-intentional lore, it can make things so much more,, interesting. this is fanfic material. hell, its probably fanart material too. its all for the content to see what the community can create i guess. or maybe i just really like talking about endermen and this has been on my mind for two days now and once i started typing i couldnt stop.

but yeah, thats my final thoughts.

we, humans, experience uncanny valley about the endermen.

but the endermen experience uncanny valley about the players.

#time is empty and thoughts are yes #long post #endermen #minecraft enderman #minecraft #minecraft lore #lore #tw video game death #not really sure if i need to put that since a lot of stuff in minecraft is killing stuff but might as well stay on the safe side with it #god this might be even longer than my other post #at least i formatted it this time #sorta #this post went from endermen make me feel weird to oOoOo psychology at 3 am with no proof real quick #and gonna be honest thats not at all what i had planned but its okay

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ragingbookdragon · 3 years

Text

Ill Tidings From Down Below

Night Culture AU One-Shot

Word Count: 1.3K Warnings: Explicit Language

Author's Note: I am back once again with a fic based on this piece by @bunnvoid! This time it's one with Hal and Kyle's Night Culture forms in which they're "Wraiths"! I hope you enjoy the piece and do expect a possible sequel when Bunn and I converse more over what the other characters look like and such! -Thorne

**********************************************************************

“That’s a wyvern,” he said dumbly, gazing at the large dragon currently stretching out its wings in the sun. “It’s as big as my home in New Guard.”

The royal flyer descended from the deep blue silk saddle, landing just a few feet from Kyle. “She,” he corrected. “Nezyphis is a she.” He accentuated his point by scratching a section of smooth looking scales behind her head, cooing, “Aren’t you a pretty girl, Nezyphis? Who’s a pretty girl?”

A noise rumbled through the air from the dragon’s chest, something akin to a purr and she fell flat onto her stomach, digging her chin into the dirt.

“She’s a giant dragon,” he repeated dumbly, this time catching the golden symbols lining the harness she wore; recognition bled across his face, and he remarked, “I didn’t know you were apart of the Royal Flyers, Hal.” Kyle’s lips pulled in a satisfied way as he muttered to himself, “But that does also explain why your head is shoved so far up your ass as it is. Only members of the Kings Forces act like that.”

If Hal had heard him, he didn’t speak on it as he explained, “My father was one when I was a child. I followed in his footsteps.” Hal exhaled as he leant back against the wyvern. “Besides, I only boast about it when I know there’s no one around who can connect me to the Wraiths.” He looked at Kyle. “You don’t usually come along this side of the land. Something up?”

Kyle nodded. “Bruce is calling for the members to meetup at the sanctuary. All of us.”

“Why’s that? Is there new force he’s detected in his hidey-hole?”

“I’m not entirely sure myself,” he answered. “I haven’t been out of New Guard in a few weeks, but…he seemed concerned.”

Hal snorted and Kyle swore the wyvern did too. “As if the man could ever feel something like concern. You honestly expect me to believe Spooky is spooked?”

“Hal, I’m being serious. Even Jason called on me and told me that Bruce is trying to find out where that occult magician Constantine is so he can recruit him as well.”

The flyer’s face pinched. “I don’t like that guy. He’s trouble.”

“Regardless,” Kyle waved off. “Bruce is calling us all to the sanctuary.”

Nezyphis suddenly stood on her hind legs, stepping in front of both men, and growled loudly. They both shot each other looks of suspicion then a swirling evergreen cloud enveloped them both, settling moments later to leave behind ghost-like wispy trails of smoke along their faces, arms, and legs, almost as if their entire bodies were made of the substance; humans taking on the forms of spectres.

“I don’t know what she’s growling at,” Hal murmured, voice cold and low like the hiss of death. “I don’t sense anything in the immediate area.”

“I do,” Kyle replied, his voice only an octave higher than Hal’s, but just as frigid. “And it’s evil. I can feel it slithering like the serpents in the Wayward Lands.”

“I hate that place.”

“Only because you’re intimately familiar with it.”

Hal shot him a glare. “As familiar as one can be when you’ve died.” He drew a hand along Nezyphis’ side. “Take to the skies,” he said. “You will have a better view from the air.”

She obeyed, massive wings generating gusts of wind strong enough to kick up the dirt and rocks around them as she lifted herself into the sky above.

Hal stared at the tree line, flying next to Kyle. “It’s coming from there.”

The painter looked at him. “Shall we flip a coin to see who goes in first?”

“You go first.”

“What! Why me!”

“Because I have seniority and I said so.” He nodded towards the trees. “Go, I’m right behind you.”

Kyle all but hissed at him as he stalked to the forested area, then he paused and looked back at Hal. “If I get eaten because of you, I’m going to kill you.”

“Uh huh,” Hal mocked. “I’ll be sure to send your patron your regards.”

The two walked into the forest, white eyes cautious and waiting for anything, though the further they went, the darker it got, as if the trees were finding a way to block out the sun. In mere minutes they had reached the heart of the forest, a giant clearing surrounded by a circle of trees, though the canopy blocked the light of the sun above them.

“I don’t like this,” Kyle mumbled. “I feel like I’m being watched.”

“Don’t be such a scared child,” Hal chastised. “We’ll be fine—we’ve faced worse and come out unscathed.”

The younger man stilled, resting his hand back across Hal’s chest. “Do you hear that?”

“Hear what?” he strained to listen. “I don’t hear anything.”

“Exactly,” Kyle remarked, turning to him. “It’s too quiet.” They both started looking around. “Where is the wildlife? The birds and deer? There’s nothing around. It’s like—”

“Like everything has died,” Hal interrupted, nodding at the center tree and Kyle’s eyes went wide when he gazed at it.

The blackened char of the giant Blightwood tree gave off the scent of rotting flesh, causing both men to turn away, holding their hands to their faces. The ground all around the tree was covered in an oozing black liquid enveloping everything in its path.

“I’ve seen necromancy before,” Hal started. “But nothing quite like this.” He shook his head, taking a step back. “This is greater and far darker than anything I’ve ever encountered.”

Kyle nodded, stomach churning with every waft of the smell up his nose. “This must be what Bruce was worried about. But…is this an extension of the other phenomena? Or is this a new one cropping up?”

Hal shook his head. “I don’t know, but we need to leave and report this to Bruce and the others at the sanctuary.” He looked to the sky, what little of it he could, and his eyes widened. “Kyle,” he breathed. “It’s sundown.”

The painter’s head cocked up, jaw going slack. “That’s impossible…it was only eleven when we entered.” He reached into his chest, hand disappearing only to come out a moment later with a brass pocket watch. “My God,” he whispered. “We’ve spent eight hours in here. But how? It’s only felt like minutes?”

“The dark magic here must be distorting reality as we know it.” He urged Kyle to turn back. “We have to get out of here. Now, lest the others send someone to find us and experience the same.”

“This isn’t good, Hal. Something is seriously wrong with this forest. And not in the good way.”

“Save it for Bruce and the others.”

By the time they exited the forest, the sky was a deep mahogany, signaling the start of sunrise, and Hal raised his fingers to his lips, whistling sharply. The cry of the wyvern sounded above them, like she’d been circling the forest all day and night and into the early morning, then she landed.

Hal climbed into the saddle, holding his hand out to Kyle. “Come on.” Tugging the other man behind him, he dug his heels into her sides. “Go Nezyphis. To the sanctuary.”

The wyvern ascended into the dark sky and Kyle lifted his hand. “Guy and John have both tried to contact us during the hours. The forest must’ve distorted the signals of our rings as well.”

“We’ll be at the sanctuary soon enough to explain.”

Kyle frowned as the land passed by beneath them, the wind whipping across their faces. “Something tells me this is only going to get worse, Hal.”

The flyer’s expression darkened as he leant the wyvern in the direction of the sanctuary. “You and me both, Kyle…you and me both.”

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crypticalwitch · 4 years

Text

Afterparty (Part 2

Part 1/Part 2

Crossposted again, but this time with Bury Me Face down by Grandson, check it out if you want to hear it. so yeah. enjoy some battles.

Warnings- Fighting, Bloody, injuries, some potty language.

Grian’s axe clangned against the bone scythe, Grimdog’s dark eyes staring into Grian's soul. Which was technically just him since, Vex. Grimdog pulled the axe away, before twirling the weapon in his hand and slamming it into the side of grian’s head.

The world spun as flew through the vex flew into the pavement. Grian could feel the reapers presence staring down at him. Grian slipped into the ground as Grim brought the scythe down hard where his head was a moment ago.

Grian rose behind the reaper, leaping into the air, axe aimed right at the reapers head. Grim noticed, but didn’t have time to move out of the way, taking the axe right in the shoulder. The reaper stumbled back, Blackish blood staining the ground,

“From the rubble, what do I see?” Grian threw his arms out as he sang, twirling the axe,“There's a whole damn army thinkin' that they're gonna harm me!”

“Now is not the time for music Warmblood.” Grimdog sneered.

“Pfft!” Grian smirked, “My blood hasn’t been warm since everything fell apart!”

Grian dashed at the reaper, axe in hand. Grim lifted the scythe, but grian anticipated it, ducking beneath the bone blade and burying the axe into the reapers shin.

Grim hissed, before making a quick change to the scythe’s trajectory, twisting it to slam hard into the Vex. Grian was unable to dodge, and ended up slamming into one of the buildings near an alleyway.

Grian stole a glance to the side, learning that both ren and Scar were a hell of a lot closer than he thought. Grian shook his head, shethe the axe, and summoned the familiar iron sword to his hand, before pushing off the wall, blade held aloft.

The hollow crack of bone and metal echoed through the area. Grains sword met the reapers arm, its blackish blood dripping down to the earth and down the blade to its hilt.

Grim swung the Scythe into grains side, throwing him to the side. The feeling of pavement tearing through his sweater and skin filled Grains arm, tears stinging at the corner of his eyes as he stood.

Grian drew his axe, staring daggers at the reaper. The Reaper was bloody and Grian was bruised. But the battle wasn't finished yet.

Grim dashed forward, bringing his axe down hard into the Grims side. A burst of blood clouded Grian vision, a flash of pain running through his leg held his focus. Grian slid across the ground, leaving a trial of blueish purple blood. He wiped the blood off his face and smiled.

“Why wont you just DIE?” grim snarled, yellowed fangs bared.

“My friends explicitly told me to have a good day, and that would pretty much ruin it!” Grain’s snarky grin melted to a more somber one, “they were your friends once too Grimdog.”

Grim stiffened, dropping his scythe to the ground, before lunging at the VEx.

Grian lept to the side. Grim slid to the side on all fours, before leaping at Grian again. Grian sidestepped the reaper, before shoving him into a nearby building.

“I won't go quietly,” Grim snarled beneath his breath.

The reaper melted into the building, forming into a shadow. Grian fell forward, feet stuttering to catch him.

Grian whirled around, to find the reaper materializing in front of Ren and Scars hidey hole, ala Reaper overwatch.

Ren stared up at the reaper. His heart was loud in his chest, and his lungs tightened up.

Scar began pulling ren deeper into the alley, but his feet struggled to move, as if the Reaper held him in place just by staring into him.

The Reaper charged. Time seemed to slow as the force of the ghostly hit shoved Scar to the ground.

It was like someone ran Ren through with an icicle. A numb sort of cold that crept its way through his very core and body, but what really occupied Rens thoughts was the feeling of loss that picked at his eyes and heart.

What did he lose.

He lost something, but what?

He knew this reaper. But from where?

They had to be connected somehow.

HERMITCRAFT.

The memories flooded Rens mind as he connected the dots. And suddenly, time seemed to resume. He shuffled his feet and kept hunched over as Grimdog reformed on the other side of the alley.

Ren felt himself growl as Grim laughed. He rose, barely registering Grian showing up in the alley and turned to his Dead self.

“Grimdog…” Ren said, sneering.

Grimdog froze for a moment before smiling “Ren…”

“Leave.”

“I dont think I will!”

“Ill Get Renbob.”

“What?”

“Renbob.” Ren snarled “I'll get him. I don't know HOW but I will figure it out.”

Grim looked around. He had Ren, threatening to bring in Renbob, a force of life, he had grian, holding an Axe with a very Vexish grin, and he had Scar, with some kind of magical spell that looked like fire prepared and probably aimed at his face. “....okay..”

Slowly the reaper figure disappeared, fading from his point floating above the earth to somewhere else.

Ren turned to face the other hermits, Scar dismissing the spell, and Grian deVexing slightly, his skin tone turning back to a more human color, and his eyes regaining their pupils.

“Ya know dudes,” Ren smiled, “You really should tell the others about you guys dating,”

“REN!” Grian lept into Rens arms, who happily hugged the Vex back.

#bloody code au #Grian #Rendog #Grimdog #GoodTimesWithScar #hermitship tw #hermitshipping

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magpiemorality · 4 years

Text

Of Princes and the Pure Of Heart

Fantasy AU. Prince!Kid!Roman & Woodsman!Adult!Virgil.

Part 1/3.

3750 words. Who wants some sweet family Sides being all found family vibes and making the hurt better again?? Anybody? Just me then!

Sometimes family is a loner in the woods; the young prince he rescues from near death; and a soppy dog.

Warnings: off-screen violence, death mention, near death experiences, angst, swearing.

AO3

***

Roman ran through the trees, breath ragged and hot in his throat, making his chest ache as he wheezed and kept going. His legs shook under him but he couldn’t stop he mustn’t stop he had to get away get away to safety-

It felt like he’d been running for hours by now, and he wasn’t even sure he was being chased anymore because he couldn’t hear anything over his gasping breaths and the rushing of his heartbeat pumping in his ears. The snow made it hard to move as he got further and further through the forest, but the way it fell hid his tracks so he couldn’t be ungrateful. It cooled his panic-hot body and cushioned his fall when he slipped over time and time again, but it also made him stand out like a sore thumb in his bright regalia, and highlighted the drop of red from his split lip in a way that made him feel ill and dizzy and captivated all at once, like he was looking at a rose bush in full bloom as he fell towards the thorns that awaited.

Time dragged on, the sounds all faded behind a rising static whine in his head that he was sure wasn’t actually there. And then, just as his legs crumbled for the last time, he saw it; through the trees there was a neatly stacked wood pile.

Someone had to be living nearby!

With all the energy and air he had left, Roman started to cry out, unable to get up or move beyond a very slow crawl towards the wood. He started to shiver after barely a minute, clothes soaking through and chilling him to the bone, but still he kept up his desperate, piercing call of “help!“

Closer and closer to the wood pile he got, until he was almost close enough to touch it. His cries had dwindled down to a thin, reedy wail, and the world around him seemed to be growing darker, darker…

And as his vision finally faded to black and his voice gave out with a feeble croak, Roman thought he imagined the sound of a dog barking. ***

Virgil wasn’t expecting to find a boy out in the snow, half frozen and unresponsive. Virgil wasn’t expecting to find anyone at all but he had, so now he had to just deal with it.

"Well pooch, guess we’ve got ourselves a foundling, eh?” He said to the dog sniffing at the boy’s hair, voice gruff from lack of use. There was no time to waste, not with the way the boy’s nose and lips were turning white and starting to tinge with blue, so he hefted him quickly up over his shoulder and made for the house.

The boy didn’t stir when he got him inside and laid him gently on the bed, and Virgil inwardly steeled himself for the worst. There were some things there was no coming back from, he knew, and the boy looked pretty badly off. But then the dog whined by his side, leaning forwards to snuffle over that pale face, and turned her big brown doe eyes on him as if pleading for him to help. “Fuck it,” he muttered, hurrying to stoke the fire up and silently offering an apology to the poor kid before dispensing with his wet clothes with a few careful cuts from his hunting knife. He grabbed as many blankets as he could to add to the ones on his bed- not that there were many left not already on it, this time of year- and stripped down to his thermals. It wasn’t quite skin to skin but it would do- if the boy was going to live then this ought to be more than enough.

“On the bed, pooch,” he clicked his fingers, bundling the ice-cold body into the nest with him and curling around the boy as tightly and completely as he could. It didn’t feel like enough, even with the weight and warmth of the dog on the other side to help out, so he sighed again and pulled his shirt over the kid’s head, tucking him close to his chest and rubbing his back gently to try and massage some life back into his bloodstream.

It was hard not to shiver with the frozen skin against his own, the ends of his snow-wet hair tickling his neck as they melted. At least the boy was breathing, and still limp and alive rather than stiff and dead. There was still hope.

Hope that took a real boost when only an hour later the boy started to wheeze softly, body easing out into a more restful unconsciousness that signified to a relieved Virgil that, although danger was undeniably still present, the threat of losing the boy to the cold had just lessened enough for him to relax. He dozed off soon after, lulled by the warmth and the oddly comforting weight of the body in his arms, wheezing steadily and softly on over the crackle of the fire. ***

It was growing dark when he woke, alerted by the shifting of the boy in his arms. Virgil looked down to see the boy staring up at him warily from his warm hidey-hole under Virgil’s shirt, eyes still a little foggy but focusing well enough.

The woodsman gave him a small nod and very deliberately didn’t move, letting the boy gather awareness and work out how he was going to react.

Not at all, it turned out, as the dark eyes blinked once, twice, heavily drooping until he was right back to sleeping. Virgil adjusted his grip a bit and settled in for a long wait, congratulating himself on a job well done. ***

When the boy next came round Virgil was mid-yawn. He felt him stiffen and start to tremble, not terribly surprised by the distress the boy felt on waking up in a stranger’s bed being rather firmly cuddled. It was enough to distress any right-thinking folk, really.

“Take a few breaths now, kid. You’re safe here, I don’t intend to harm you. There’d be no sense in saving your life just to undo all that hard work now, would there?” Virgil said in what he hoped was a low, comforting voice. “You’re in my house, how you got here is something I’d sore like to know, but you just concentrate on warming yourself up and feeling better now, y'hear me? Rest."

Apparently it was the right thing to say, because the boy relaxed against him and actually pressed closer in response. He did jump when the dog huffed behind him, but with a quiet word from Virgil explaining what it was he settled again.

***

The third time the boy woke up he seemed to be almost right as rain. He yawned and stretched, allowing Virgil to move a bit himself at last. It was mid-morning the day after he’d found him, and there was no sign of the lifelessness from the day before, nor the haze in his eyes. He still didn’t say a word or smile as he stared up at Virgil, but all things considered it was a resounding success.

The dog barked softly from the main room and they both looked over to see her sat in the doorway looking pitiful. The sight made the boy huff softly through his nose, a sound that was almost amusement. Virgil ruffled his hair carefully. "You gonna be okay here if I go feed her?” He asked, keeping his voice quiet and his tone calm so as not to spook the boy. He got a slow nod in reply and helped the boy untangle himself from his shirt, showing him a pile of clothes on the chair he could choose from to wear if he needed to- long sleeve shirts and sweaters and some thermal leggings and socks. He diverted that way himself to pull on an extra layer before braving the cold of the rest of the house.

The dog pranced around him as the food was being sorted, wolfing it down as soon as the bowl hit the floor. Virgil felt a tiny bit guilty because he hadn’t been able to feed her the night before, so he tossed her a bone as a treat to gnaw on while he went to sort out the fire. It was good to move around again, and his hand brushed the wood of the fireplace in apology for letting the cold seep into the bones of the house overnight. It would take a little while to heat everything up again, and it didn’t do anything any good to be changing temperature too much.

A creak from the direction of the bedroom had Virgil looking up in surprise. The boy stood there, braced heavily on the door frame, wrapped in a satisfactory amount of layers and trying to stay up on unsteady feet. Virgil clicked his tongue, holding back the scolding he wanted to give the boy for pushing himself too far too soon in favour of just getting up and helping him back to the bed, pushing him down with a firm hand. “Just you stay there now, kid. There’s no sense making yourself worse now you’re starting to feel better. No way you get through this without getting ill somehow, so we’re gonna try and make it as easy on you as we can, alright?"

The boy nodded, casting his eyes down. Virgil thought at first it was shame but the stubborn pout of his lips marked it as petulance instead, and he chuckled at the sight. "Yeah, yeah, I know. Big mean old Virgil, making you stay still and bored, right? You’ll thank me later, kid, trust me.” The woodsman stood up, stretching his back. His stomach rumbled abruptly, and he glanced at the boy at the reminder that yeah, food was a thing. “You eat soup? What am I saying, ‘course you eat soup. We’ll have some of what I’ve got leftover in the pot, should warm you up a bit more. Get some nourishment back in you to fight the chills."

Virgil took stock of the situation as he stood by the stove and waited for the soup to heat up. The boy had been very well dressed, and was in great health- near freezing to death aside. He wasn’t saying a damn word, which kinda sucked because Virgil hadn’t spoken this much in years, mostly by choice, and his throat was already beginning to hurt. Still, it did feel good to have someone in the house and Virgil was reminded how much he not-so-secretly enjoyed caring for others. Usually the dog was enough, but with the boy he suddenly felt warm and fuzzy in a much bigger way.

The boy, he was pleased to note, was sat up but bundled under the covers when he got back to the bedroom, and the dog was lying on the bed beside him enjoying some tentative pets. Both of them perked up when Virgil appeared with the food, and he snorted as he clicked the dog back onto the floor so he could sit with the boy and eat. There was a bowl of soup with some chunks of hearty bread, a few good bits of cheese and a cup of hot apple juice that he placed carefully on the table beside the bed.

It was interesting to see that the boy- rightfully and smartly- watched Virgil until he’d taken his first spoonful, before testing the flavour carefully and then digging in ravenously, finishing half the soup and bread in a truly stunningly short time while Virgil plodded along and kept a careful eye on him. He slowed down but kept nibbling, and finished every crumb and drop he’d been given before taking hold of the hot juice, cupping the mug in his hands close to his chest and breathing in the hot steam.

Quiet fell in the house, interrupted only by the occasional soft pops and crackles of the fire, and the sounds of three different sets of breathing. Virgil was loathe to push the boy into giving answers, and wasn’t entirely sure he wanted or needed them yet either, so he just silently took the bowls and went to wash up. The boy was dozing again when he returned to the bedroom, curled half sat up against the pillows, and the damn dog was back up on the bed sprawled out against his front, but Virgil didn’t have the heart to disturb them.

He went to collect bring more firewood in from the side of the house instead, and made himself comfortable on the couch for a bit, doing some woodcarving while he had the time.

The peace was shattered by the sound of movement outside, and Virgil crossed to look out the window. There were figures flitting through the trees, getting gradually closer. He heard the boy gasp in the bedroom and hurried in to him, catching him by the shoulders. "Tell me quickly, yes or no. Were you being followed?” The boy nodded quickly. Shit. “Do you want to go with them?” The boy shook his head emphatically. Double shit. Virgil raked a hand through his hair. “Okay last question. Do they want to hurt you?” The boy hesitated, eyes shining, and then he nodded one last time. Upgrade that shit to a full on fuck.

Flying into action, Virgil pressed a finger to his lips and waved for the boy to hide, and was pleased to see him quickly slip off the bed and underneath it out of sight as he himself hurried out into the main room to the window to keep an eye on the goings on outside. The noise outside resolved itself into shouts and the jangling of horse tack, and several men wearing black cloaks and scowls appeared from the trees and came toward the house.

Virgil cast a glance around and whistled for the dog, pleased to note it wasn’t possible to see there had been a second human inside recently. The two of them- no doubt three with the boy under the bed- flinched when there was a knock at the door, and a too-pleasant voice floated through.

“Hello? I’m with the Royal Guard, we’re looking for a… missing person. Can you open the door?” They called. Virgil steeled himself with a breath and grabbed the dog by the scruff, inwardly proud of how she growled as he opened the door to face the intruder.

“What do you want all the way out here?” Virgil asked before the man could say anything else. “Don’t even know about no royals. I keep an eye on my business and the world keeps away. S'how we like it."

The man’s expression was already starting to pinch. Good, Virgil thought. Go away. "Sorry to interrupt, unfortunately there’s been a disaster. The family were on holiday nearby and were attacked, we believe on the road before they arrived. We’re looking for their son, the Prince Roman. Have you seen-”

“Haven’t seen hair nor hide of nobody in weeks. It’s winter- people don’t pass this way, ‘less you count the wolves."

"Right, well.” The guard cleared his throat and attempted to keep his smile fixed. “There’s a reward, see, because we-”

“Reward?” Virgil made a show of squinting at him in interest. “A reward you say?"

"Yes and-”

“Damn, I’ll start lookin’ round a bit more in that case then, eh. Make a quick bit'a cash. Say, you need him alive?” The guard gave him a look of distaste, but he carried on. “Only, anyone running around out here in weather like this is only gonna last so long. Wanna know if it’s worth bringing you a body or not, see."

They stared at each other, and the guard finally gave up. "Yes, sure. Bring the body- we do need to know he’s been found. Well, thank you anyway. We shall keep on with our search."

Virgil nodded. "Best hurry back down the pass though, snowfall’s coming in soon. You’ll get trapped up here with nought but old me if you’re not careful,” he warned, satisfied to see the guard glance nervously at the sky.

“Very well. Good day,” he grimaced, hurrying back to his horse. Virgil watched them go, eyes narrowing as he counted them. He heard a movement in the bedroom but didn’t turn to look until they’d disappeared into the trees. He frowned and counted again, closing the door, and as he passed the bedroom he made sure to give a tiny shake of his head and click for the dog to stay by the door, hoping that would be enough.

For a solid five minutes Virgil puttered around, not doing much and definitely not talking to the boy, before at last there was a whisper of sound and another figure sped away from the house and off into the woods to follow their companions. “Sly bastards. You can come out now, get back into bed alright?” He called, setting the kettle on. He brought another mug of hot juice for the boy and sat on the bed while he sipped at it, big wary eyes watching him carefully. They sat in silence for a while, just looking at each other, before Virgil had to speak. “So you’re the Prince, huh?"

"A."

”… What?“ Virgil was doubly confused- firstly because the boy had just spoken, and secondly because what he’d said didn’t make much sense. ”'A’? A what?“

“A prince. Not the Prince,” came the whisper, and oh, yeah that would make sense. Virgil sucked in air through his teeth and leaned back.

“I see. But you are Prince Roman then, yeah?” The boy nodded. Guess that fuck was still firmly in effect then. ***

Roman was still not entirely sure how much he could trust this strange, gruff man. He looked nice enough, and he’d both saved and protected Roman in the last twenty-four hours, but since he knew Roman was a prince he’d been acting weird.

Roman was pretty sure the man was called Virgil, but there was some kind of comfort in not speaking, so he hadn’t managed to confirm that yet and was just resigned to sticking to thinking of him that way until given alternative proof. As if summoned Virgil poked his head into the bedroom again to check on him, and Roman scowled at him from where he was curled up, stroking the dog absently. Virgil disappeared again quickly, and Roman sighed. This wouldn’t do- who knew how long he’d have to stay here until he could get somewhere safer?

With a squaring of his shoulders Roman made his decision, and scrambled clumsily out of the bed and over to the door. He took a moment there to catch his breath, still weak from the fatigue and- damn the man for being right- impending sickness. Virgil noticed him almost immediately but Roman lifted a hand before the woodsman could scold him for being up. He struggled over to the couch Virgil was sat on and flopped down with an exhausted but satisfied huff, closing his eyes for a moment.

Just a moment…

When he woke from his unexpected doze disorientated, wondering what that nice feeling was and why he was waking up at all, there was a strange sound, that slowly resolved itself into- humming. Virgil was humming, and also stroking his hair, and it felt really nice and gentle and it reminded him of his father and-

“Oh, kid, it’s okay,” Virgil soothed, brushing his thumb under Roman’s eyes to wipe away the tears there. “It’s been a bit of a wild day or so for you, hasn’t it?” His voice was just so full of sympathy that Roman couldn’t stop himself from letting out a soft sob, opening his eyes to look at Virgil miserably, silently begging for something, anything, to make him feel better.

Thankfully Virgil seemed to understand, and he was swept up into strong arms and carried to the bedroom to the sound of Virgil’s constant stream of reassurances.

The bed was just as warm as ever when they got in, and Roman shamelessly stuck to Virgil’s side as the man got comfortable, snuffing the candles out and hugging Roman tightly while he cried.

“You let that out, kid. There’s no hurt in tears, not with what I’m willing to bet you’ve been through. Bet you’re missing your family huh?” He waited and Roman nodded with a morose sniff, burying his face in Virgil’s shirt and probably soaking it through, but the woodsman didn’t complain and only held him tighter. “Yeah, I get that. I wasn’t always the person living in this house either. I was once a, too. But that was long ago now.

"It’s not so bad, once you get used to it. It’s safe, and it’s peaceful, but it can be sad too. You’ll be sad for a while actually, kid, I’m sorry. But one day that’ll pass too and you’ll breathe easier again. I’ll keep you safe and warm while until you’re through with that bit, if you want to stay with me?

If you say no that’s okay too, remember. You might have to just stay until the snow melts on the passes though- it’s a bit too late to make the trip to the towns. I don’t know how you made it up here at all, but maybe one day you can tell me that story. If you stay.” Virgil groaned under his breath, probably worrying about his rambling incoherence, but Roman found himself hanging onto every word, clinging to them like little delicate spiderweb lifelines.

What else could he do? He had no family left, as far as he knew. He couldn’t run away because there was nowhere to go to that would be any safer than here. It would be just as risky going to a random village, except that at least here he had fairly good evidence that Virgil wasn’t going to hurt him or give him up for money. What else could a boy, a very recognisable Prince like Roman, do but stay safe where he was?

“Roman?” Virgil nudged him, feeling around Roman’s shoulders until he found his head and cupped the back of it with his warm, work-rough hand. Roman, still hiccuping with the tail end of tears, flung his arms around the man in the dark, squeezing him tight. “Woah, hey there. Is that a yes?”

“Yes,” Roman whispered. “I’d like to stay."

#writepie #ts roman #ts virgil #ts sanders sides #ts writing #ts sanders sides aus #ts sanders sides fic #sanders sides #prince roman #princey sanders #fantasy au #another one of those stories that just popped out fully formed #tw death #tw violence #tw angst #tw near death #roman sanders #virgil sanders

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thatdarncatchronicles · 4 years

Text

That Darn Cat | Issue No. 4 | Jericho

Warnings | Snek (if you have a phobia, maybe skip this chapter?)

Ratings | K+

Genres | Friendship, Snark, Action, Suspense

Guest Stars | Edna (OC), Anaconda Man (OC)

Word Count | 1.5K

Summary: Selina provides unwanted backup when Jim makes the ill-advised, if extremely predictable, decision to hunt down the Anaconda Man all on his lonesome. Cue snek, sarcasm, and stubbornness from both parties.

Selina darted back against the alley wall as Jim Gordon climbed from his vehicle and stepped out into the light rain. He’d parked a couple blocks away from the projects. Smart.

To her surprise, he turned and began walking towards her. She dashed behind a dumpster barely in time to conceal herself before he entered the alley, but he didn't seem to be aware of her presence. Huh. Apparently she wasn't the only one with a working knowledge of Gotham's secret shortcuts. When Jim reached the end of the alley and turned the corner, Selina left the shadows of the dumpster and crept after him. The rational part of her brain whispered that it was just as dumb for her to follow Jim as he tracked a serial killer as it was for him to go after said serial killer alone. She ignored it. About half a block away from the killer's hideout, she closed the distance between them and fell into step beside him. "How ya doin, Detective?" Jim startled for the second time that night. "Selina! What are you doing here??" "Ideally? Keeping you from getting yourself killed." "You shouldn't be here." "Neither should you."

He shook his head in exasperation. "I'm not taking you in there with me." "Nope. I'm going in there with you." "No. No, you go home, Selina." She crossed her arms and planted her feet. "Fine." He raised his hands. "Fine. We'll both go home." Selina snorted. "Yeah, right. You'd drop me off at my place and come right back here. Besides. You got the tip from me." "Selina—" "How bout I shout "police" at the top of my lungs? Then he'll run off, find a new hidey-hole, and you can have fun tracking him down again while his little pet swallows folks like they’re rats." Jim rubbed his eyes. "I can't let you go in there. What if he's armed?" "You mean with more than a giant snake?" "What if he's got a gun?" "How about this—I'll take cover as soon as we're inside, and I'll only come out if you need me to smack him over the head with a booze bottle." Jim was shaking his head again. "You know I'm good in a fight. Come on, Gordon. He killed my cat." Jim sighed. "There's nothing I can say to make you stay back, is there?" "Nope!" She patted him on the back. "C'mon, Detective. It'll be fun!" She started down the alley, leaving Jim no choice but to follow. The apartment complex was eerily still and silent where it loomed over them, casting them in shadow. They stood looking up at it for a moment before Selina crept forward. "I saw the snake go in through a basement window." Jim grabbed her arm. "Selina—" "Don't even start, Gordon." Then she was making her way around the building, searching for a way in. They found a cellar door around the back, one of its doors torn away to reveal a cement staircase that gave in to black shadows after three and a half steps. Jim drew his gun and pulled out his flashlight before turning back to Selina. "You keep your promise. You find cover, and you do not come out unless I call you." Selina nodded. She would keep her word. He eyed her suspiciously until she rolled her eyes and whispered back, "I'll do what I said I’d do." Jim turned away reluctantly, switching on his flashlight and bracing it across his raised gun. Then he descended the stairs and was swallowed in blackness. Selina waited until he was far enough away with the flashlight for her own descent to be obscured, and then she planted a hand on the concrete and sprang into the shadows to the left of the steps. There was an alcove beneath the stairs, and she crept into it, listening intently and watching Jim's silhouette against the beam of his flashlight. She suddenly became aware of how afraid she was—adrenaline was surging through her, and she could hear her heartbeat pounding in her ears. Surely even Jim could hear that racket. She took a deep breath, then another. Better. But what if they could hear her breathing?? Then something cool and smooth and very much alive slid over her hand where it was braced on the ground, and her heart seemed to stop altogether. The snake was heavy, and Selina felt something sick in her stomach when its shape abruptly changed against her from smooth and sleek to a series of large, distended bulges. She clenched her jaw and tried not to think about what—who?—the bulges had once been. Not daring to move her hand or call out, she squeezed her eyes closed as the cool scales eased over her hand for what felt like an eternity. Eventually the body thinned into a tail, and then, with a final flick, it was gone. Selina heaved a silent sob of relief, but her elation was short lived.

The snake had slithered into the pool of light from the open doorway, and it was making a beeline for Jim. Selina's heart leapt into her throat as she tried to think of a way to warn the detective without endangering him. The snake was moving faster, now. Jim, still oblivious, took slow, careful steps forward, the beam from his flashlight sweeping to and fro as he searched for evidence of what was right behind him. Wanting nothing more than to scream in frustration and fear, Selina balled her hands into fists against the cold floor. And froze. Her left hand had closed around something small and hard.

A nail. She could work with that. Leaning further from her alcove, she tossed the bit of metal away from her and prayed it would be enough.

It was. The nail made a few tiny clinkclinkclinks against the concrete, and Jim whirled around, backpedaling when he caught sight of the creature now a scant yard from his feet. He shot it. Selina startled violently at the sudden sound and flash of light. The snake writhed and twitched, still advancing, but Jim stepped on its head, all his weight focused on the foot that trapped the creature. She heard a crunch, and Jim stepped back, shoulders slumping, head turning towards her hideout. The shadow came out of nowhere. Selina didn't even have time to call out a warning before the man slammed into Jim, knocking him to the ground and screaming something about Edna. The gun clattered across the floor. Selina was on her feet before she knew she was moving, swiping a pipe from the ground as she ran. She leapt over the still-twitching corpse of Edna and swung with all her might at Jim’s attacker. Her blow struck true against his shoulders, and he fell. Darting around to go for his head, she swung again, but he wrapped his arms around her ankles and she crashed to the ground. She was obliged to discard pipe in favor of defending her eyes as her attacker clawed at her face, still shrieking the name of his dead pet at the top of his lungs. Then Jim dove at him and they rolled a few feet away. There was a brief scuffle, but Jim fought his way on top and pounded the man's face until he went still. He sat there for a moment, panting, before turning the man over and pulling out his cuffs. He looked over to where Selina was picking herself up. “You okay?" "Yeah, I'm—I'm fine. I'm good." She took a deep breath and clenched her fists to squeeze away the trembling.

“I told you not to come out unless I called you.” Jim’s gentle voice didn’t match the reproach in his words as he clicked the cuffs closed and got to his feet.

“Like you were gonna call me. Besides, I said I would keep my word. I didn’t say anything about yours.”

Jim opened his mouth to speak, but a movement behind him snagged her eye and she cut him off. "Jim!" The perp had scrambled to his feet and was barreling towards one of the iron supports, slamming into it full tilt. Dust showered down on them, and before either Jim or Selina could react, he was running again, straight at another brace. This time, chunks of plaster came down. Time slowed as the old building groaned above them and Jim turned towards her with wide eyes. "Run." She did. She saw the killer make it through the cellar door and felt Jim hot on her heels as the rumbling intensified. Then there came the shrieking of metal and Selina was knocked to the ground for the second time as Jim braced himself over her.

The last thing she heard was Jim's pained grunt as a sudden weight took the air from her lungs and the building came down on top of them. A/N: To be continued...

Previous chapters linked below! Thank you for reading, hooman. You is kind. You is smart. You is beautiful. I love you!

Make sure to follow @thatdarncatchronicles and #thatdarncat (no spaces!) to never miss an installment! :)

Issue No. 3 | An Unexpected Party:

https://thatdarncatchronicles.tumblr.com/post/621198286498512896/that-darn-cat-issue-no-3-an-unexpected-party

Issue No. 2 | A Hint of Pesto Aioli:

https://thatdarncatchronicles.tumblr.com/post/620559916396052480/that-darn-cat-issue-no-2-a-hint-of-pesto?is_related_post=1

Issue No. 1 | Of Spaghetti and Sneezes:

https://thatdarncatchronicles.tumblr.com/post/620372790294528001/that-darn-cat-issue-no-1-of-spaghetti-and?is_related_post=1

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fanfictrashdump · 4 years

Text

Queening a Pawn, 4

Last of the night.

TW: Small (barely worth the warning) mention of suicidal ideation, drug effects.

Summary: During the Time Heist, Loki stole the Tesseract and escaped. He did not expect, however, to be pulled through a Time Loop that delivered him to a Midgard more than a decade older, wiser, and bitterer. Having just lived through his unsuccessful attack in New York, Loki must learn to live in Midgard after the defeat of Thanos (post-Endgame). The question is, who is Loki without a quest for a throne or total domination?

Loki x OC

"Delilah, you have a visitor." FRIDAY echoed overhead, making the only occupant in the room start from her slumber.

Lilah groaned in bed, turning her back to the door and burrowing deeper into the bedsheets. "Nope."

"They're kind of insisting, Del."

"What time is it, FRI?" Delilah wiped at her eyes, whining pitifully into the darkness that surrounded her.

"It is three forty three in the morning. The temperature outside is twelve degrees and internal temperature is sixty seven degrees, Fahrenheit. Do you want to know the weather?"

Delilah growled. "Just tell me who's at the door, FRIDAY!"

"Rock of Ages is–"

"For fuck's sake, Loki," she grumbled. "Let him in and just… he'll figure it out."

The door slammed open a second later and heavy footfalls followed. "Lilah! Deh-LI-lah! Where's your hidey-hole –hahahahaha, hole… Delilah?" Just as she sat up in bed and contemplated going to her living room, her bedroom door swung open. "Hey, pocket pixie. Are you awake?" He was whispering with all the grace of a rambunctious three year-old.

"Lord above, Loki, what is going on?" She growled, as he suddenly flipped the light switch and turned the dimmers up to an almost sun-like glow. She shielded her eyes against the light as Loki nosed around her room. "Are you drunk?"

He paid no mind to her queries. "You said we were friendly, but Thor told me you were my only friend because no one wanted to work with me after the… you know… the genocide," he added another whisper.

"You had other friends, Lo." Delilah peeked with one eye to watch the pacing demigod. He looked probably worse than she did right now. His hair was disheveled and his button-up had become crumpled and had, at some point, been taken off, as it was currently mis-buttoned.

"No! I had colleagues with which I shared mutual tolerance." He pouted severely, staring blankly at a corkboard full of pictures before letting out an insane cackle. "You're making funny faces in this photograph." His hand reached out to touch a rabbit plushie on the table below. "Oh, this is so soft."

"Oh, fuck. You're tripping balls." Delilah gently herded him away from the stuffed animal, dumping him into an armchair in the corner of her bedroom. "Loki, what did you take?"

Loki smiled and patted her hair down from the bedheaded mess it was in. "Dinner with you and some more beer with Thor." His smile faltered and his hands fell to hers. "You should have stayed. We had a bad talk." Loki's eyes shimmered with tears that were gone as soon as they appeared. "Your eyes are so green."

Lilah chuckled, despite herself. "So are yours, buddy. Or they would be if your pupils weren't blown as hell." She tilted his chin to focus him back on her. "What else did you have?"

"I had a headache, afterwards. I walked around to find something to get rid of it and the nicest agent gave me some pills." He turned his face and placed a kiss on her bare wrist before cackling again. "I feel great now."

"Alright, then. That's good, bud." Lilah puffed out her cheeks and pondered. She had not had the privilege of dealing with someone who was this sort of high before. After all, stoners were a lot more chill than this. Though, mercifully, Loki was entertaining himself by wrapping his fingers in locks of her hair until they became a curl. "Hey, FRI. Awkward question, how can I tell what kind of drugs someone is on?"

"Any answers to that will have to be on record, Delilah."

"OK. How do I know whether someone's heart will give out and die?" She asked through gritted teeth.

"If they are awake and alert, there is little risk of overdose." Delilah breathed, wincing when he tugged on her hair just a little too hard. "Loki's vital signs are within normal range, if that Is what's worrying you."

There was silver lining in this hazy cloud, after all. "Thanks, FRI. Could you–"

"Completely off the record. Keep subject hydrated until they come down."

The tears were back, and this time they had run down the sharp planes of his cheekbones, unhindered. "Will do, FRIDAY. Thanks." Sighing, she brushed away at the trails on his cheeks using the hem of her oversized sleep shirt. "Hey." His lip quivered at her soft tone. "What's wrong, buddy?"

"My mother is dead."

Lilah winced at the pain in his tone. "I know, Lo. I'm really sorry."

"I am adopted, a monster, a genocidal prick, my mind was controlled, and now my mother is dead. Must I be a walking curse? An omen of ill will?" His voice was shaky, same as the hands in her hair and clasped in her own. Delilah felt awkward. He was never a touchy-feely kind of guy, but it seemed that being high out of his mind and without his magic left him vulnerable.

"You are Loki and you are whatever you want to be, all the time. Today is no different."

He scoffed, his eyes hardening and his jaw tight. "Dead sounds like a pretty good option, at the moment," he muttered.

The snap of her hand on his cheek broke the undisturbed silence of the night. He had yelped, releasing his hold on her hair to soothe the digits-shaped mark. For a moment Lilah was glad he was out of it, or he would have definitely injured her without a second thought in a fit of rage. Instead, his lower lip quivered more, tears flowing freely.

"That's my friend you're talking about. You don't say shit like that, got it?" Face to face, they were mirror images of each other, tears forming salty trails down both of their cheeks before Delilah hastily wiped her face, palm still stinging. "I'm gonna get you some water."

When she returned with two large glasses of water, Loki was still rubbing his cheek, though now it was simultaneous with doing the same to the armchair. "So soft," he kept mumbling, over and over.

"God, you're high as a kite." He looked up with bright, glazed eyes, looking conflicted as to which hand he wanted to unoccupy for the task and not making any headway. "I'm not going to hold the cup for you, Loki."

"But it's so soft! I can't let go now! What if it changes?" He cried, his brow furrowed in concern.

Delilah swallowed the retort bubbling in her throat. "If I'm ever this high, you better take care of me, Lo." The glass tilted towards his lips and he greedily drank the liquid down, some dribbling out the sides and down his chin to land on his shirt. He didn't seem to care, as he finished the first glass and quickly asked for the second, drinking with as much fervor as before.

"You're a pretty Midgardian, Delilah." His hand had migrated from his cheek to his hair, and through the still-flowing tears, he let out a peal of laughter. "Delilah cut my hair and now I'm weak, just like… er… What's-his-face!"

"Samson–"

"Samson!" Loki giggled, though his smile turned back into a frown a second later. "Samson was liked, though. He was a hero. I'm a no-gooder. I deserve to be weak. All Samson did was love!"

"OK. You're clearly spiraling. How about we get you in bed, buddy?" With a few tugs, she managed to get Loki on his feet and travel the short distance to her bed. He instantly reached for the teal fleece blanket she had been snuggled under before her slumber was rudely interrupted. "Sleep it off, OK?"

"Don't leave!" He called just as she was about to flip the lights off and crash on the couch. "My skin is ants and I don't want to be lonely in case they eat me."

"You skin is… ants?" He nodded frantically. Her hesitation only bought her an exaggerated pout that made her feel guilty. Groaning, she flipped the switch off and slipped into bed beside him. His left hand drew large circles onto the fleece blanket, but his right burrowed under her sleepshirt and made tidy circles on her stomach. "That is… an HR complaint. For sure."

"So warm. And soft."

"Loki, you need to be quiet and sleep now," she whispered, ignoring the flutter of his fingers over her skin. To his credit, he tried to still himself beside her, though his body was still practically vibrating. It was going to be a long night.

...

"This is your wake-up call, Delilah," FRIDAY announced, just as the sun was streaming in through the windows of her bedroom.

"FRIDAY, tell Sam I am going to be late and cancel my eight am, please. Wake me in another hour," she growled, pulling her blanket closer. Except her blanket was not a blanket, it was a white Oxford button-up shirt and its owner was plastered against her back, snoring.

"Should I tell Thor his brother is here?"

Delilah pressed her eyes tight, trying to pretend that the world outside was non-existent. "Take a wild guess, FRI."

"Thor is looking for him."

"He's indisposed." Loki whimpered in his sleep and tightened his grip around her stomach. "And crushing me."

"Thor is asking for GPS tracking."

"For fuck's sake, just tell him that Loki will meet him in a half hour in the canteen, OK?" Loki started at her half-yelled response, clutching his head immediately after at the sudden jolt. "Lights on at ten percent, please."

"No," a voice hissed darkly into her ear, sending a shiver down her spine. "Leave me in the dark to rot." His face hid itself into the crook of her neck and groaned miserably.

She patted his hand, trying to squirm out of his steel grasp. "Loki, I need to pee." With another groan, his fingers reluctantly left the comfortable heat of her stomach and he faced the dim lighting overhead.

"My face hurts," he grumbled, rubbing the cheek she remembered plainly striking the night before. "Oh, Hel. My head." Without so much as a backwards glance, she scurried off to the washroom, taking her sweet time brushing her teeth and washing her face, hoping against all hope that the Asgardian left on his own. Delilah was never one for awkward conversations, and she was more than certain that this would be the awkward chat to end all awkward chats.

When she re-emerged, he was sitting at the edge of the bed, head hung between his shoulders in a pitiful stance. He had, fortunately, managed to sling his shirt back on, though it hung open over his frame. "You still breathing there, bud?" Loki barely nodded. Her traitorous legs moved on their own accord, stopping only when she reached him. Unsure on a course of action, she waited quietly for him to acknowledge her.

Loki's eyes swept slowly from the ground, up her form until they reached her own. There was the slightest shadow of lavender dusted on his cheek that made her stomach churn. "Do you always attend strange men who call in the night in your underthings?"

Delilah frowned, glancing down at herself. Her sleepshirt was several sizes too large, and covered her thighs, but she had definitely not had the opportunity to put on shorts before letting Loki in. "In my defense, it was three in the morning when you barged into my bedroom and I, frankly, had more important things to worry about." He dropped his head again, without so much as a snarky comment, which was more worrying than not. "Your brother is looking for you."

"I heard." He whispered.

"Do you need help getting back?" Her tone matched his. She assumed it was for the benefit of his head.

There was a long stretch of silence and Lilah wondered whether or not he had even heard her. "I don't know why I came to you." The sentence held no malice or mocking, just an expression of confusion to a question she had not even asked.

"I don't mind, actually." She carded her fingers through the gnarly mess of her hair, wincing when her fingers met the occasional knot. "Hey, Loki?"

"Yes?"

Now came the awkward part. "If you were to see the agent that gave you the pills, would you recognize them?" This drew his attention back to her face. His brow furrowed as he gave her the slightest of nods. "Good… because I am going to need to fire them."

Loki's eyes drew closed with a sigh. "Don't make yourself enemies for my stupidity. I should have just come to you last night."

"I'm required to, by law." She raised her hand to halt his protest. "Someone deliberately drugged you and they may not stop at doing it to you out of spite. You were buzzed, but some human might die."

Her hand patted his cheek on its descent, and she was startled when his own grasped it as she pulled away. A ghost of a smirk was forming onto his lips, the dark circles under his eyes making him look manic. "Why does my face hurt?" Loki held her fingers in almost the exact place the had made contact during the night.

"I was trying to slap some common sense into you. It didn't work. Your skull is too thick," she replied, deadpan. "Can I get some clothes on, now?" With a half grin, he released her hand. "Thank you. Do you need help getting back to your room?" He shook his head in the negative. "Want me to grab you on my way to the cafeteria?" He nodded, but didn't move. "Cool. Can you get the fuck out now, or…?"

With a chuckle, Loki stood, making his frame as large as possible and forcing her to take a step back. When Lilah didn't make a surprised expression, he held her gaze in an irritatingly intense lock, but she seemed to not even blink at the challenge. After another moment, he stepped away, skirting around her, not even bothering to listen in to the muttered cursing she was doing as he left her abode.

#fanfic #fanfiction #marvel #mcu #mcu fanfiction #loki x oc #loki x ofc #Loki #loki fanfic

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