#it's kind of funny bc that chapter should have been a clear sign of how he series was going to end & | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

emotionalcello-makefanfics · 3 years

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Chapters: 2/? Fandom: Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics), Red Robin (Comics), Batman - All Media Types Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Tim Drake/Jason Todd Characters: Tim Drake, Jason Todd, Tamara Fox, Some OC for cuteness Additional Tags: Angst, Fluff and Angst, Sickfic, Tim Drake is Not Robin, Tim Drake is Not Red Robin, Jason Todd is Red Hood, Tim Drake Needs a Hug, Jason Todd Needs A Hug, Crying, so much crying, Love Confessions, Cheesy, God it's so cheesy, Cringe, So sweet so cheesy so angsty that you'll cringe, Tim Drake-centric, some Jason POV tho, A wild X-men appereance, I know they're not the same universe but I'm running out of character and running out of creativity, So yeah X-men characters and vaugly their mansion/orphanage too, Bruce Wayne Bashing, Some things that I don't put down bcs it'll be a spoiler, Smoking, Implied/Referenced Sex, POV from a cat????, The Clichést Cliché that ever Cliché, Cliche Summary:

They meet again on a rooftop after ten years. They're different now, and things are not the same. It's all too late. Chapter 1 sneakpeek

“Don’t jump.”

Sighing exasperatedly, Tim puts down his cigarette-clutching fingers and drags his eyes to the source of the voice. His gelled-back hair loses its hold and a strand of ear-length bangs falls to his vision.

Sadly, without seeing him and just from the voice, Tim knows exactly who this person is. One of the Bat franchise, and it just had to be the Red Hood variation, fucking great. Out of all time, it has to be tonight. The world is playing a joke on him.

Tim is sitting hunched on the rooftop’s edge, wishing he’d have some peace and quiet for once, and of course one of these pestering bats just has to bug him at the worst time. Yet, it’s actually pretty rare for Red Hood to patrol Gotham lately, and Tim curses up a storm in his mind. Out of all the days, it just has to be fucking tonight.

No, Tim is not having it.

“This man has too much to do tomorrow to jump.” Tim looks away, getting a light from his suit.

One hand lighting another one of his death stick, and the other unbuttoning his suit and loosens his tie. After a puff and two, Tim drags in and keeps the smoke in, letting his nerves uncoil. Seems like it doesn’t work that well when the big bad shadow of a vigilante doesn’t move from the corner of his eyes.

“I’m not jumping, go away, I can’t deal with you tonight,” Tim says as he sighs the smoke away to the red polluted sky, thinking the man must be deaf or just not convinced. Maybe the latter, the bats are famous for their tact after all. People say they’re purely human. Seeing Red hood’s physique, maybe this one becomes meta-human at some point.

Tim looks the other way so the vigilante is completely out of his vision, to make a point that he’s not having this conversation. He looks to the city, engulfed by the red sky. It’s bright since this building is at the heart of the city, where the higher caste of Gothamites live and prosper. You can see the border around the bright side of the city where the lights stop dead and darkness begins. The poor side of the city. The gap is ghastly, it’s what makes Gotham what it is.

Tim is not surprised but highly disappointed when he hears shuffling instead, and when he looks at where the tall brick wall of a man, he already sits down next to him. Red Hood keeps a respectable distance though, at least he has that much of a tact.

Red Hood hooks his fingers inside his helmet, does some finger shimmy, and the red shiny mask helmet is off. His face is still covered by a domino mask, his hair looks damp, and his gloved hands rake his jet black hair back. Curls bounce to his forehead, sighing a fog, the only indication that the weather is reaching the end of the year. In turn, Tim felt his cleanly shaved nape chilled.

From inside the leather jacket, the vigilante digs to look for something, and that’s when Tim realized he’s been looking at the cuts on Red Hood’s exposed forearms from the folded sleeves. Very thick and muscled forearms. This guy either lifts all day or a meta-human, not that Tim cares anymore.

“Got a light?” Red says, plush lips smirking.

Tim sighs, guess he has company today. He digs into his suit and throws him his lighter. The masked man inspects it and Tim rolls his eyes. The lighter is a metal one that you flip, and on it engraved ‘From my heart with love, that this one lasts longer, Tam.’

“A sweetheart of yours?” Says the man, the second sentence he speaks, and Tim doesn’t recognize the voice. Deep, gravely, the typical voice of someone that smokes.

Red Hood extends his hand to give back the lighter to Tim instead of throwing it, must’ve thought it’s special.

“Kind of,” Tim says, receiving the lighter.

Red Hood drags in, keeps the smoke in, “Why kind of?” and sighs.

“Never established the relationship.”

“Commitment issues?”

Tim quirks an eyebrow at the man, sitting just as hunched as him. There’s a pillar beside Tim, and he lays his back there, thinking whether or not he should engage in this conversation. Eh, why not right? It’s not like it’s confidential information, and Tim is just so tired of caring about social politics.

“I was too late,” Tim says. It’s not as painful to say now, but lately, Tim has been numb. He’s been numb for years. Tim’s gay, or so he thought. When he began to really love her, she’s gone from him.

“Girl got another guy?” Red Hood teases.

“Girl got dead,” Tim deadpans. The smile dropped from the vigilante’s mouth, and if only he can see his eyes, panic would look funny on the all-powerful Bat. But, no, Tim can see his tell by the tapping hands.

“Ah fuck, sorry.”

Tim chuckles at the spectacle of an awkward vigilante. Maybe this night won’t be so bad after all.

“Relax, I’m not too sad about it now, it was years ago.”

It’s hard to predict Red’s expression with that domino mask that takes his cheekbones and half his forehead, but Tim’s pretty sure the twist on that mouth means his opinion of Tim isn’t good. Well, not that Tim cares.

“How did she die?”

“Wrong place, wrong time,” Tim put the filter on his lips and drags in as deep as he can. Too deep, and Tim coughs hard, once and twice that his vision blurs. Her face comes to vision, the morbidity of her expression tips Tim’s nerves off balance. Tim quickly takes another deep drag, “She was in the Joker’s way.”

At the name, Red Hood snaps his face at Tim. Slowly, languidly, Tim looks back. The vigilante clenched jaw and balled fists look like he’s about to kill somebody. Tim knows that a few years ago Red Hood kidnapped Joker, didn’t kill him, and just vanished before popping up again to have a vendetta against Batman. What a load of drama those bunch.

This also means that Tim knows exactly who this person is. Suddenly the voice registers, the familiar jaw, the soft fucking tone.

He blames it on the nicotine that his heart is calmer than he’d like, his mind still not on overdrive, still plagued with Tam’s face as she died in front of him. He’d breathe smoke instead of oxygen if he could. God he wished he’d breathe smoke from now on. Why does it have to be today? One grace from the universe is that Tim -for some reason- feels amused instead of dread.

“You look like you’re about to kill somebody, Red,” Tim says, can’t help the ease and sass in his voice. Tim lays back hunched, crosses his legs. “I thought you let go of your vendetta against the Joker.”

“Where do you hear that bullshit?” Redhood snaps and Tim can’t help but let go another chuckle.

“People talk, words get around,” Tim says.

“Then they’re far off the truth,” Red hisses before dragging in his cig.

“Yet the Joker still roams.”

“Ain’t my call.”

“Is it the big bat daddy calls?”

Red Hood splutters at the name and Tim smirks evilly at the reaction. “Ew, don’t call him that!”

“I can call that higher-than-thou furry hero wannabe anything I want,” Tim spits bitterly, looking out to the city. Sometimes when he’s really lucky, he’ll catch one of the bats twirling in the sky, and now one of ‘em is sitting beside him, but sadly it’s not the most shocking knowledge he has today. “One of these days it’s going to be my turn.”

“What?”

“Dying in the collision of mad men’s evil master plan you refuse to get rid of.”

“Ck, I don’t like what you’re insinuating.”

“Sorry then, I don’t mean to insinuate anything. This is me telling you loud and clear that you’re all cowards for not killing these maniacs that kill us like ants when you have the power to stop them.” Tim’s voice is even and chill, it did not raise a tone, but it reduces the bulk of a man beside him to still. “Some of us rooted for you when you caught the Joker, and your reputation gives us high hopes that it’ll be the last of him. Then he showed up again.” Tim feels the lighter in his pocket burn, “Then Tam died.”

Tim pumps his lung full of smokes, keeping it in there so that the clawing gloom will die before it takes roots.

“I almost did kill him, Batman stopped me,” the gravel voice says lowly.

Tim feels himself stiffens, now that’s something he doesn’t know. His eyes scan the hunched vigilante, trying to find any sign of a lie, there’s none.

“Shit,” Tim curses, sighing up smoke and quickly takes a deep drag in. “Fuck Batman.”

For the first time, Tim hears Red chuckle, “Yeah, fuck him.”

“Still your family though, right?” Tim says, earning what he thinks is a glare, who would fucking know with that mask. “Why else would you stay in his line?”

Red Hood looks away, not answering.

“Guess I understand. Proving something to someone.”

Red scoffs, “Would you?”

“You know who I am.”

“Yeah, not your story.”

Tim scoffs at the obvious lie, “Look it up. I have better things to do than telling you my backstory that’s a google search away.”

Tim Drake. Son of the CEOs of Drake Industries. Running smoothly since ever he becomes the COO. Yada yada, young and successful, yada yada, has the reputation to chew out the reporters and a resting bitch face, all that shit. Tim doesn’t have the best bedside manners, but when it comes to business, Tim gets things done, and his business partners know to swallow their pride for a potential too stupid to missed just because Tim has fangs.

“I dunno, you’re pretty mysterious in the eye of the media,” Red says.

“Because they’re nosy pricks and not worth my time when they’re asking me about rumors of my flings.”

“They’re not true?”

“What the fuck are you? Does TMZ sent you?”

“Good point, never mind.”

They let the quiet settle in, and Tim isn’t too bothered by the company so much. The red amber eats to his filter. Tim puts out the light and puts the bud back inside the pack while he gets another one. He looks down at his light, which reminded him of Tam. Damn, she was such a good assistant, she’s also his best friend but a damn better assistant. Tim doesn’t let himself think about it.

He lights another, and puffs.

“Shouldn’t you be patroling?” Tim says before he can stop himself.

“Nah, not here to patrol, just some errands.”

“Don’t mind me. I’m not jumping.”

“No, I know that,” Red says, tone softer that Tim narrows his eyes at him.

“Lonely?” Tim teases, putting the filter in his lips while locking eyes to the pair of white lenses.

Red shrugs, “Just wanna kill time with someone that doesn’t wear one of these,” he says, tapping to his domino mask.

Tim hums imagining himself with his family, “Yeah, me too, I’d take a vigilante franchise over family dinner anytime.”

“Aww,” Red surprisingly coos, making Tim flustered.

“Don’t get it twisted, my family sets a pretty low bar for good company.”

“I can say the same, Timmy.”

Tim flinches, “I didn’t say you can call me Timmy.”

“What about friends then?” Red follows up, ignoring him.

“Joker killed my only best friend. Oh god, stop making that face, everyone I know got someone they know killed by the Joker, or Bane, or.... shit just those freaks.”

“Doesn’t make me feel better.”

“I don’t care what you feel.”

“I’m wounded,” Red says in that joking ‘boo-hoo’ voice but it was the last thing to snap Tim’s patience completely. He hates this casual conversation as if nothing happened.

“I’m not jumping, and I know you’re not here just to talk to some random civilian. You know who I am, so say what you wanna say and go,” Tim inhales deeply after the low-toned rant, only to be met with another silence.

They stay quiet for a few whiles again. Smoking the tension away. After Tim’s cig burns halfway, his nerves calmed down. Then he realizes that Red is looking at him. Staring.

“What?” Tim says, sighing smoke.

“Would you kill Joker if you could?”

“In a heartbeat.”

“Killing someone isn’t as easy as it sounds, especially if you did it before.”

“You underestimate my anger then.”

Red Hood goes still for what Tim is insinuating. His phone vibrates in his pocket. Tim gets it and his new assistant reminds him of a flight in an hour and he needs to be ready in half. Tim puts out his cig and pockets it.

As he stands up, he looks down at Red Hood, really looks at him. It reminded Tim of the time has passed. It’s been so long.

“Nothing to say?” Tim asks, he has an underlying tone of ‘last chance.’

“Thanks for the light.”

Tim clenches his jaw and breaths slowly. What did he expect? “You caught me at a bad time but it’s good to meet you again, Jason.”

When Tim walks away, his elbow is grabbed and he’s spun to face Jason in all his bulk. Looming over him with his height.

“You know who I am?” Red says with a threat in his voice that makes Tim wants to laugh.

“Are you really that surprised? Or did you forget me when you fucking died?” Tim smiles bitterly.

Moments passed, eyes on each other, chest to chest. The last time he sees Jason, Tim was staring at these white lenses too, and Jason was still as tall as him. At this close, Tim sees tiny tears that heal pale than the rest of his tan skin, bulked up body looming over him that used to be similar to his. For anyone, Tim had two best friends, Robin and Jason Wayne-Todd, he had known the two are the same. Seems like Jason doesn’t.

Doesn’t matter now. Everything said and done. Too late.

“Say your goodbyes now,” Tim says, because why else would his childhood friend pops back again after a decade of not saying anything after he returned to life. Tim doesn’t realize it’ll hurt this bad though. Missing Tam doesn’t hurt this bad.

Perhaps it was because the scar never healed right, but he still thinks of Jason like a big chunk of him that’s been torn away forcefully, even now.

“I’m sorry,” Jason finally says, low and guilty, as he should be, but it irks Tim to no end.

“I lost you, and when you’re back you didn’t tell me,” Tim says, his voice cracks and he curses it to hell. Red Hood’s been around for years, and Jason never came to Tim to say he’s alive. “If you have nothing else to say, let go of me.”

“I didn’t know that you knew.”

“What?”

“I didn’t know you know I was Robin... Did you know... everyone?”

Tim rolls his eyes, “Yes.” Gloved hands still on his elbow, and white lenses not letting him go. The non-challant face he wears slips off as if oil just slicked between the mask and his skin. His heart picks up a beat. There are layers between their skin, Jason’s thick gloves and Tim’s three-piece suit, but it feels warmer. Burning.

“Damn,” Jason curses under his breath.

It’s just a little thing, but Jason’s silence following that is a nother prick to Tim’s skin.

“Is that all?” Tim dismissed, pulling his arm away, but Jason only holds tighter.

“I didn’t know, okay?” Jason pushes, “And you’re a civilian, you’re not supposed to know Jason Todd is back to the land of the living.”

“A civilian,” Tim mutters under his breath. That’s all he is to Jason? All this time. His chest hurts, Tim knows this is because of Jason’s words instead of anything else. “Get away from me.”

“I’ll see you again,” Jason says before letting go.

Before Tim can say don’t bother, the man puts on his red helmet and grapples away. For a moment Tim can see the shadow of red yellow green flying away.

#jaytim #jaytim fanfic #jaytim fanfiction #tim drake fanfiction #jason todd fanfiction #Tim drake fanfic #Jason todd fanfic #Back on that dc angst train baby #emocel's

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 4 years

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Humans are Weird, “M-Flu.”

Here is a little fluff for you all bc today I am also posting another chapter.

Sorry about the wait but I decided to take a bit of a hiatus over Thanksgiving, but now I am back :)

It was early December, or so the humans said. Krill had never really understood the human’s need to split up time like that. The Vrul did, of course, keep track of their planet’s revolution around their star but that was simply numerically based rather than starting the count over every month like the humans did.

It had been a bit busier than usual which was rather odd. You would think, on a spaceship, that illnesses would be relatively common due to the closed in area with a bunch of people side by side, and that it would not be affected by the time of year like it was on earth. However, he supposed that allowing the humans leave planetside so close to their sickest season was probably the reason.

Still blew his mind to consider that humans had a time of year where epidemics and pandemics were more common. So common, in fact, that the humans just accepted getting sick as a fact of life, and often continued to go to work and be around other people during that time. Of course, this behavior used to be worse, but even with the widespread use of surgical masks during sickness, things still continued to spread.

He found himself, pleased, once again that he was incapable of catching human illnesses, though he did his best to stay away from plant life on other planets seeing as you never knew what he could catch from other species of plant, to which he was more similar than he was to animals like the humans or the Drev.

He reached upwards and plucked a clipboard from one of the nurses before turning towards the door and scuttling out.. He needed to go speak with the commander about the increased rate of infectivity aboard the ship. He was under the impression it would be best to begin a quarantine on some of the more sick patients. Yes it was true that the average human would not be taken out by the flu, but by his calculations it greatly decreased productivity.

Better to keep humans healthy and lose a few people than it was to allow everyone to only work at half capacity.

He greeted members of the crew as he floated the stairs and onto the bridge stepping through the door and approaching the captain’s chair… a chair which was empty…. That was strange? This was around the time the commander went over ship diagnostics. He did this every morning and despite being a very impulsive man who wasn’t prone to keeping schedule, this was a part of his day he didn’t tend to change.

Krill spun in a wide circle looking around trying to find the man as if he expected to see him hanging from the ceiling, though, now that he thought about it. He totally expected to see something like that.

There was a clatter on the stairs behind him, and he turned to find Sunny stepping into the room.

She looked around in equal confusion to him.

“Good morning.” She said in the traditional human greeting, “Have you seen Adam?”

Krill shook his head, another human gesture, “I was just about to ask you the same thing.” He held up the clipboard he was holding , “I came to speak to him about medical protocol aboard the ship.

Sunny hummed, “Well, I came to him about, this.” SHe turned and pointed downwards just in time for Krill to see three of the spiderlings clambering their way up the steps mewling and growling angrily on their way after Sunny. Krill inflated his helium sack and hovered out of reach of the spiderlings, who honestly scared the hell out of him, especially Glados.

Sunny stuck out a foot trying to hold the aforementioned monster at bay, but all three of them continued to squeal and chirp.

“That’s strange.” Krill began, they never left Adam’s side if they could help it, and Glados didn’t particularly like sunny all that much, so none of this made particular sense. Hal, the smallest of the spiderlings chirped the little vocal folds at the back of it’s throat oscillating and vibrating. It was an ALMOST human sound but as if heard from a distorted speaker.

It was actually kind of freaky.

“Where is Conn, maybe he’d know what’s going on.”

“Speak of the devil, and the devil shall appear.” The electronic voice responded from behind them. From the other end of the room, Conn floated forward, his solar ribbons billowing out behind him in long undulating tendrils. Lights on the signing gloves lit up as he made the human language gestures which were then converted into words by way of a speaker, “They are very unhappy…. Worried even.”

Sunny shifted nervously, “What do you mean.”

“I’m not entirely sure. Their language is very rudimentary you see. Their language centers are not completely developed enough for me to read their minds. I can only sense feelings only to a certain degree.” He paused, “It is a smell, a bad smell a dangerous smell.” He tilted his head to the side.

Sunny glanced towards Krill, “Gas leak?”

Conn shook his head, “No….. it seems….. Biological if that makes any sense to you, not that I entirely understand what that means.”

“Latrine backup.” Sunny commented wryly unable to help herself.

Krill glared at her, “very helpful of you, Sunny. Glad to see you humor has evolved to be so refined.”

“Glad to see you even knew that was intended as a joke.”

The Spiderlings squealed again just as the sound of shuffling footsteps, and something dragging across the ground reached their ears.

Thud, thud, thud onto the metal catwalk.

Together, the two of them turned just in time to see the commander haul himself onto the bridge. Or at least, it looked like something that should have been the commander. His face was flushed bright red especially around the cheeks and neck. His eyes were red and puffy with dark circles under them. His hair was matted with sweat. He was wrapped in a large blanket like a cape which dragged on the ground behind him.

He hadn’t changed from his sweatpants.

And he was shivering violently despite both a long sleeve shirt, a hoodie, and the blanket.

He looked like a zombie.

Krill and Sunny watched as he oozed past like some sort of zombie hybrid slug and slumped into the captain’s chair. His sniffled a bit before erupting into a violent coughing fit. The sound was wet and rattling, a clear sign of chest congestion.

Waffles, the dog, followed at his feet with clear concern in her large brown eyes.

The human snuffled again.

He turned to look at them from the depths of his hoodie and blanket cloak, “I think I’m dying.” he said sounding rather resigned to that fact.

Sunny looked nervous and went to step forward, but Kril held her off, “Wait there, and keep the spiderlings away.” he moved forward floating to the human’s head height. Even without his thermal vision he could feel the heat radiating from the human’s body, but still he switched receptors for a proper look.

One hundred and four degrees by the human’s reckoning.

“Sick for sure commander. Sunny head down to the medical bay and order that quarantine protocol. I was going to ask the commander about it, but he hardly seems capable of giving orders at the moment. Have his second take over and then get someone to babysit the spiderlings. Take them to Ramirez and Maverick, they get along well enough.

“Quarantine.” The commander muttered.

“Yes commander, we have alien lifeforms aboard the ship, and no way to know how the illness will affect them. Furthermore we want to make sure no one else catches it.”

“I think I am dying.” The man repeated absently groaning quietly as his shivering grew worse.

“Don’t say that commander, you’re making me nervous. Save the announcements of death till after our tests.”

“Such a Diva.” Sunny commented trying to be funny though she sounded more concerned.

“Go on.” Krill ordered, and she did as told, scooping up the mewling spiderlings and walking from the room. Krill got the commander back to his feet and heard the sniffling coughing humans down the hallway. He was hunched over like some sort of invalid and moved more slowly than Krill, who was arguably the slowest being on the ship.

“Come on, Commander.”

“I don’t think I can make it.” The human sniffled piteously.

“Well you better because no one is going to carry you, now come on.” contrary to the human’s earlier statement, they made it to the medical bay in one peace. By Krill’s orders the rest of the medical team was ready with the protocol all wearing masks, gloves and surgical glasses. Perhaps they saw the entire thing as overkill, but he didn’t want anyone else getting sick.

They sat the human down on one of the medical beds, and Krill proceeded to learn that their Commander was quite pathetic when he was sick. This coming from a human who would run into dangerous situations skipping and singing show tunes now whimpered complaints and begged for medicine.

Halfway through their examination, another human came walking onto the bridge.

Narobi from down in engineering. She stood straight and tall but Krill immediately noticed her elevated body temperature. Her dark skin made the ravaging heat less obvious, but her reddened eyes and the beads of sweat collecting on her forehead was enough. Though comparatively he wouldn't have been able to tell something was wrong otherwise. She was dressed in her engineering jumpsuit, and was rather well put together.

Krill glanced between her and the commander who lay mewling on the bed like an overly vocal puddle.

She smiled wryly, “I see I am not the only one then?” her voice was scratchy and somewhat congested. She was forced to clear her throat at least once the deep rattling in her chest also present.

“Krill walked over to her.”

“Symptoms.”

She took a polite seat on the edge of one of the beds, “Fever, chills, aches, cough, nausea, dizziness..”

Krill glanced over at the commander again, who had his single eye trained on them and had suddenly stopped complaining.

He smiled inwardly,. Narobi was looking at him too with a raised eyebrow, “Good morning commander.”

He sat up slowly stifling a cough, “Good morning, Narobi.” he tried to stifle a shiver.

A wry smile, “Don’t let me interrupt commander. It was a stirring performance, I am close to tears.” Krill wasn’t exactly the best with detecting sarcasm made worse by the fact that her face did not change once while she said that sentence, so he couldn't be entirely sure if she was being facetious or not.

He began to cough again, “I Wasn't acting.” he grumbled defensively looking at her with a serious expression. That didn’t last long however as he was overcome with a violent bout of shivering and a cough eventually leaning back eyes watering form violent outburst one hand on his chest, “Never mind, this is bullshit. Go on just sit there and be a badass, I'll just be over here dying and looking pathetic.”

“Man flu?” She wondered wryly

“You know what,-” Cough, “I will have you know that that is totally a real thing, and I will not be shamed for it.”

Krill turned from his work, “Actually, according to our tests. Both of you have the flu. The same strain probably got it at the same time. We will have to monitor the rest of the crew to make sure it does not spread further than the two of you before determining how dangerous it will be to other species especially the Drev. IN the interest of keeping the rest of the crew healthy for the time being, both of you will be isolated and monitored here.”

“Don’t you think that is going a bit overboard?” Narobi wondered

The commander moaned.

“Actually, I think you humans don’t take illness seriously enough. Just because something is normal, doesn’t mean it's acceptable, and letting people suffer by themselves or allowing them to contaminate other people isn’t acceptable in my hospital.”

There was no arguing with the little doctor as he ordered the humans moved into the clear plastic contamination chamber and ordered to change. Both now wearing light blue scrubs they were ordered into bed, which of course the commander whined that he was still cold and had to be brought a stack of blankets with the great inner eye rolling of Krill, who, had learned from dr Katie, that they were not likely to die from such an illness, so he didn’t have to be THAT worried. Though he was still a little worried, and quickly moved to disguise his concern with a businesslike manner.

When Sunny came to visit that night she was distrubed by what she saw. She had never actually seen a sick human before, which was a wonder considering how long she had been on the ship. The powerful creatures she had come to know as indomitable were curled up in the darkness in isolation. Both of them were shivering between painful coughing fits. Their skin was pale and both were drenched in sweat.

The commander had, over the course of the last few hours slid down from the bed with all the pillows and blankets he had acquired and made some sort of delirious makeshift nest for himself on the floor the pillows being the base and the blankets wrapped around him like a human filled burrito only his mouth and nose being entirely visible. The other human was curled up on her side head resting on one arm.

She sighed quietly.

At her feet the dog whimpered as she looked through the clear plastic drape.

Sunny looked towards Krill with worry, “Are ... are they ok?”

Krill walked to stand next to Sunny, “It looks ugly, but Dr. Katie tells me that thousands of humans get it every year and survive without medical intervention, so they should be ok.”

Sunny glanced towards the containment opening.

“IS it contagious.”

He glanced over at her and then sighed realizing what she planned on doing, “With this strain, only for humans.” With their unspoken agreement made, she stepped forward and unzipped the outer layer whistling for the dog who jumped in after her. She close it off and then opened the door into the other room closing it behind her.

The interior was hot and muggy, and there was a strange smell on the air.

IF sunny knew one thing about humans, it was how social they were. If that was the case, it just seemed wrong to her to leave them suffering alone in the dark. She was about to head towards the commander when the other human curled up and shivering caught her eye. With a call she motioned the dog over patting the bed next to the human. The dog, seeming happy enough to help jumped up next to the human and lay down immediately.

Sunny was pleased at the smile smile she received from, closed-eyes human who reached out a hand and began stroking the dog’s velvety ears. The dog scooted closer curled up against the human’s stomach. The human wrapped an arm around the dog, and maybe it was just Sunny’s imagination, but thought the human’s shivering died somewhat.

Pleased that one of the humans was taken care of, she walked over to where Adam was curled up on the floor shivering and coughing. He sighed in an agonistic sort of way. She grabbed a cup from the side table and filled it with water returning to the human.

She knelt next to him and prodded him through the blankets, “Adam.”

The human shifted sitting up from inside his cocoon.

She had noticed that habit some humans had, especially him. Upset, in pain, sick, they liked to make nests for themselves out of anything comfortable and fluffy in the immediate area. He looked at her with bleary eyes shivering, “Sunny..?” His skin was cold and clammy, and she could see the wet patches from sweat on his chest and stomach. He would be losing water quickly like that.

She handed him the water, “Drink, or Krill is going to get an IV on you instead.” The human grumbled but complied.

He finished the water but was hit with another racking cough that had him doubled over. Sunny sat back in worried confusion. The human sat up snuffling and groaned, “my back.” He muttered, “hurts so bad, but it’s so cold.”

Sunny held out a hand to feel the heat radiating from the human’s skin.

She wasn’t entirely convinced about the cold thing, but took him at his word piling his blankets back on top of him.

She stood and returned to the other human urging a cup of water into her hand before returning to Adam, who had burrowed himself away like some kind of slimy lizard. She took a seat next to him learning against the wall and nodded to Krill who watched her from the outside. He would have been able to come in too, but he was dealing with other patients at the moment.

She leaned back against the wall dozing a bit woken at some point in the darkness as something moved close to her crawling up to rest itself on her legs. She looked down to find the pile of blankets and pillows shifted next to her human pressed up against her. She pulled the blankets back curiously only to find the human looking worse than ever.

His eye had a strange glassy quality, he had stopped shivering but for a subdued tremor. The eye closed and he slumped against the ground half asleep or nearly dead she wouldn't have been able to tell accept for the back and forth movement of his head as he began to dream.

He moaned in pain or fear she still wasn’t sure..

She grabbed the human with her lower arms and adjusted his blankets with the others letting him rest in her lap hoping whatever he was dreaming about would subside before it woke him up. It scared her to watch as the virus ravaged through the human’s body. He thrashed in his sleep disquieted waking up only to fall asleep again in the same cycle. His breathing was raspy and labored. HIs body quaked with the cold one moment, and then he was pushing the blankets away for the extreme heat in the next moment. The coughing was the worst, beginning with full body spasms and ending with the human hunched over in agony at the end the shivering causing the already aching muscles even greater pain worsened by coughing. Sunny tried to help tried to get the two humans as much water as she could.

On the other side of the room, the dog licked the human’s arm in sympathy as she shivered. She had to leave in the morning to get her duties finished decontaminated before leaving, and came back later that evening when the dog was getting up from Adam to move back to the other human.

Sunny looked at Krill for an update.

He shook his head, “They woke up, but they didn’t eat. Been resting pretty uneasily, Commander says he keeps having nightmares. Narobi reports her dreams aren't exactly pleasant either. Dog seems to help, she's been keeping them good company.”

Sunny nodded, “It looks so…. Painful.”

“You have anything like it on your planet?” He wondered.

“Rot lung I guess, but its slower, sort of a lifelong thing…. I suppose you can also get infections caused by wounds, and there are a few others, but nothing like this.”

He nodded, “We can get skin rot pretty easily, but we have dealt with it. The blight is pretty bad and can leave you deformed…. I just can’t believe they find something like this normal.”

“I’m gonna head back in, seems kind of wrong to keep the humans isolated.”

Krill didn’t argue letting her return to check on the far human first. Setting up some more water, stroking the dog’s ears and then returning to Adam. He was asleep as of just then half in and half out of his blankets like he couldn’t decide whether he was warm or cold. She wrapped him back up, and he absently curled up against her in his sleep. His hand rested against the floor leaving a humid mark behind it once she tucked it back in his blankets.

The worst of the symptoms lasted for three days with the humans only getting up to drink some water and go to the bathroom.

By the fourth morning Sunny was sitting in her usual spot as the human shifted and sat up.

He touched a hand to his forehead, and turning to look at him she found the redness gone from his face from the fever that had been raging past two days.

He glanced over at her looking a bit surprised, “Shit…. I thought I dreamed you being here the whole time.”

“No, I determined it was improper to leave humans isolated.”

He coughed lightly and winced, “Sure you did….” He either winked at her or just blinked, with only one eye she had trouble telling, “keeping acting like this and people are going to start thinking you like me.”

She snorted and pushed him over with one hand, “Go back to sleep you big idiot.”

He didn’t sit back up,”Mmmm probably a good idea. I feel like I got hit by a truck.”

“You look like you got hit by a truck.”

He rolled over trying to make himself comfortable, “Rude.”

She leaned her head back against the wall, “What…. Did that feel like? I have never seen anything like it before…. It scared me.”

The human snorted then coughed again, “Depends on what you’re asking about. Your throat hurts like your esophagus is lined in sandpaper, your face hurts because of the pressure in your nose from the swelling and all the gunk in your sinuses. Your entire body just aches made worse by the shivering which makes those muscles hurt more. Then the coughing comes in, and that just adds to the issue and it hurts your throat. Your chest is congested so it's hard to breathe, and it hurts. Generally your head hurts too, and your fever is so high it's just hard to think. When you sleep it isnt well and the dreams are weird as shit. At the worst of it, you're not even sure if you are awake or not….. Short answer is it sucks.”

“I’m sorry….. You humans really got dealt a shit hand…. I never thought it would be so….”

“Easy to take out a human?”

“Yeah…”

“Id say a lot of the stuff we evolved to survive also made our lives shit….. The fever comes to kill off the virus or bacteria or whatever, but it can also cause brain damage if it goes to high, which is kind of a bummer, plus it feels terrible.”

She patted his shoulder in sympathy.

He curled up and sighed, no longer shivering and promptly fell back asleep.

By the fifth day, the humans were sitting up and eating and even walking around a little. Day six they were declared no longer contagious but ordered to wear surgical masks. Still they were left weak achy and commander vir spent much of the time sleeping curled up in another makeshift nest, this time in his own rooms.

The other human approached sunny upon leaving grabbing her by the arm to stop her before, “Thank you, Sunny…. I know you were really there for the commander, but I appreciate you thinking of me.”

Sunny tilted her head in surprise confused that the human would thank her for something so minor, by the time sunny had thought of anything to say, the other human was already gone.

She thought she now understood why ril was always so worried about his humans.

Humans getting sick was actually kind of scary.

She didn’t like it

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ama1gamates · 4 years

Text

theory:deltarune is one of gaster’s experiments

apologizing ahead of time if this is written in a disorganized manner, also the fact that i veer off topic a couple times to just talk about ways the games are related. its very difficult to organize my thoughts when there is so much to consider despite the fact that this is like my fourth time rewriting this (woops)

theory: deltarune is one of gaster’s experiments. like the entire thing is an experiment.

if you’ve never heard who gaster is in relation to undertale, you should probably look into that first because that’s what this entire thing is about. tldr; he was the royal scientist before alphys, fell into his own experiment and “died” or disappeared. he is presumaby sans’s and papyrus’s father or a part of the family (assuming that w.d. stands for wingdings going along with the whole “named after the font they talk in” thing, especially considering the fact that the journal 17 hidden room is written in wingdings). although we don’t exactly know when gaster is in the timeline of the backstory, we can assume he was hired as the royal scientist to figure out how to get them out of the underground. we can probably assume that he worked with determination, considering that the one time he is visible in the game he appears kind of drippy, like the fact that that’s exactly why amalgamates even happened in true lab. also, the determination extraction machine - was gaster’s. there are blueprints in sans’s workshop, written in a code that frisk cant understand, as well as a broken machine covered by a sheet; we’re assuming that’s an old determination machine and sans translated the blueprints for alphys (she even says in a journal entry “i used the blueprints”). if the “creation” gaster fell in wasn’t the core, it might have been this, because once again he appears all melty like the amalgamates or undyne when she dies. gaster’s appearances in undertale kind of seem like random easter eggs about a character from the past, but i’m not convinced it’s unimportant; in both deltarune and undertale you cannot name your character gaster, it just restarts the game.

now onto why i think deltarune is an experiment: when you download the game onto your computer, the file saves as “SURVEY_PROGRAM.exe” which actually scared me a little bc i was scared i just downloaded a virus, plus the fact that the license agreement when i was installing it said “YOU AGREE TO EVERYTHING THAT HAPPENS FROM NOW ON” or something like that. terrifying! and once you open the game it does survey you, asking you to create a vessel and name it as well as yourself, unlike undertale where you only name the first fallen human, chara. plus there is someone that talks you through the whole intro asking you these things, which seems very separate from the narrator of everything else that happens in the game. and i think that this is how gaster was experimenting with human souls; when you die and when you save, the game doesn’t focus on determination like undertale does. (the flipside of this is alphys experimenting how to break the barrier with monster souls and determination).

MY BIGGEST REASON WHY I THINK THIS THOUGH: journal entry 17 from gaster. the entire thing is talking about a darkness growing stronger and cutting deeper, saying “i think this next experiment is going to be very very interesting.” THE ENTIRE PLOT OF DELTARUNE CHAPTER ONE IS RESTORING BALANCE TO THE WORLD BECAUSE OF A FOUNTAIN OF DARKNESS MAKING THE DARK WORLD GROW STRONGER.

it’s also just very Funny(tm) to me that undertale has the surface and the underworld, and that deltarune has the light world and the dark world. there’s just! a very specific! kind of parallel there! like someone might have based it off of the concept of having a surface world and a world underneath!

one other fun thing: clam girl, a rare-appearance npc, talks about her neighbor “suzy” and how the protag should meet her. and once you talk to her, if you go to sans’s workshop, one of the drawers contains a poorly drawn photo of three smiling people the protag doesn’t recognize that says “don’t forget”. but only if you talk to clam girl! also goner clam girl, an even rarer npc, says that u never met suzy but the time to do so is “fast approaching.” i just think it’s interesting ;)))

about kris: i’m thinking that the soul kris out at the end is the player’s? maybe that’s a common theory, idk it probably is. like gaster just chose a human on the lightener world and said “here you go! here’s a soul! have fun being my experiment!” and this soul has more determination than kris; i saw this pointed out in a video, but the first time you play the game and you get to the first save point, you literally overwrite a save file under the name “kris.” in undertale, only the person with the most determination has the ability to save, which is why the only time flowey could save is when he had six human souls in his control, so we can assume the player has more determination than kris. also the fact that kris literally doesn’t emote at ALL the entire game, to me that makes it rlly clear that the soul they rip out is Not Good.

of course i don’t have all the answers! and this isn’t without holes, because yeah our information about gaster is limited and we only have one chapter of deltarune. something i realized today though: in undertale when you read the signs in waterfall, the last one mentions an angel who has seen the surface, presumaby asriel, come will back to free them all (which does happen in true pacifist!) the only other time an angel is mentioned in undertale is when you talk to gerson about the delta rune emblem; apparently the other bleaker take on the angel is an angel of death who’s a harbinger of destruction. SO ITS REAL INTERESTING I THINK that in the deltarune prophecy, it mentions that when the trio restores balance, they will “banish the angel’s heaven?” and somehow even after we closed the fountain (which btw i’m not convinced it worked) we don’t know what that means or what it’s referring to. but if we’re going off of the thought that undertale’s “angel” is asriel...... we bring in the theories about ralsei and asriel having something to do with each other, considering their names being anagrams and looking somewhat similar. also the fact that theyre probably related and asriel will make an appearance in the game in the future makes me nervous about that. THIS COULD BE A THING! WHO KNOWS. just wanted to point it out as well even though i don’t think it has anything to do with gaster.

ANYWAYS THIS IS A MESS but those are my thoughts on the ways that undertale and deltarune are related!!! and if anyone wants to add their thoughts feel free, i’m open to discussion

#undertale #deltarune #god damn #gaster #w.d. gaster #kris deltarune #asriel dreemurr #ralsei #delta rune #i tried proofreading and god my adhd brain says NO READ. ONLY WRITE #so i apologize if i messed something up lol

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feistypaants-archived · 4 years

Text

Between The Pipes [Chapter 21]

Rating: M Words: 1946 Pairing: Kristanna Summary: When a new owner takes over the Arendelle Ice Breakers, Kristoff isn’t sure about his future with the team. That is, until a PR nightmare throws the newest member of the media team, who also just so happens to be the daughter of the new owner, right into his arms. Kristoff and Anna can’t even stand the interviews they have to do together… how on earth are they going to fix this mess? Hockey!AU.

[Chapter Index]

Where To Read: [AO3]

Notes: This chapter is smut, mostly. There are some feelings at the end, though :^)

Also didn’t really read over this bc I’m sick of looking @ it lmao !! Sorry for any mistakes.

Enjoy!

Anna never said she had self control. So when Kristoff asked if she wanted to take one or both cars back to his house, she pretty immediately suggested they drive together in his truck.

She waited patiently while he showered and gathered up his gear before emerging from the locker room, hair still damp and cheeks flushed, and she waited patiently while he gathered up his things and spoke with Mattias about the next game. But her patience was wearing thin as he fumbled for his keys in his duffel as she bounced on her toes, absolutely ready to be in the truck.

“And men say women have bags too large,” Anna snickered as she pulled a hair tie off of her wrist and spun it between her fingers for a moment. “Why would you put your keys in there?”

“You wanna drive?” He mumbled, placing his bag on top of the hood as he dug deeper, frustration clearly etching into his features. He didn’t notice Anna pull the band between her teeth before gathering her hair up into a large messy bun on top of her head.

“No,” she hummed, tying it off, and dropping her hands back behind her, clasping them together as innocently as she could.

“Then stop — a-ha! found them!” He pulled them out of the back triumphantly, a grin wide on his face. But he paused for a second, tilting his head slightly to the side. “You put your hair up.”

Scrunching her lips to the side, Anna averted her gaze for just a moment. “I did.”

“Looks nice.” Then he shrugged and unlocked the truck, smiling as Anna scrambled into it while he threw his equipment into the bed.

She took a quick moment to undo the top few buttons of her blouse, pinch at her lips before running her tongue over them, hoping to make her mouth look more plush, and then sat up straight as Kristoff opened his door and climbed in, narrowing his eyes at her suspiciously. “... You’re up to something, aren’t you?”

Anna pulled her bottom lip up between her teeth and smiled, rolling her eyes. “Of course not.” But then she leaned across the seats, sliding her fingers through his hair and kissed him, deep and slow, tongue teasing him as he reached out to touch her. His hands were eager, one resting on her neck as the other reached to touch at the swell of her breast, newly exposed by her lowered neckline, and Anna sighed with content as he let out a small moan when she pulled away.

Her mouth found his throat, pressing two hot kisses against it before she dropped her hand to his thigh, fingertips brushing against his hardening cock. Anna lifted up slightly, her lips feather light against his as she whispered “Just drive.”

The height of his truck gave her confidence, knowing that it was unlikely anyone would see them. She leaned back as Kristoff started the truck, smirking at the sight of his shorts tenting in his lap. She turned herself to a more comfortable position in the truck, leaned forward, and started rubbing him through the fabric.

A happy sigh escaped her lips as she pulled the waistband over him, revealing exactly what she had been looking for. “God, I’m so lucky you have this,” she laughed, tongue darting out over her lips before she reached out to stroke him once, slowly, agonizingly slowly. “Best dick I’ve ever sucked.”

“Jesus Christ, Anna…” his voice was tense and she glanced up to see his jaw working and his knuckles white from his grip on the steering wheel. “Please.”

Well, since he said please…

Her soft tongue teased him, a small circle around the tip as she savored the taste of him. Then a bigger one, a long lick up the entire length of him, and then she lowered herself slowly, her lips circling the girth of him as she took as much of him as she could. A string of curses were whispered above her head, as his right hand dug fingers into her scalp.

Anna wanted this to last, wanted to make sure he was practically begging for release by the time they got to his house, and wanted him to be more satisfied than ever. So she took her time, teasing, bobbing slowly, lifting her mouth off of him and giving gentle strokes with her fingers. The drive to his house wasn’t long, but the grip of his hand in her hair tightening told her he was sick of her teasing.

“We — we’re…” his speech was broken as she sucked him, sliding up and down the length of him with ease. “A...almost there, Anna…”

Perfect.

She sped up her ministrations, hollowing her cheeks as she slid up to his head, teasing with her tongue at the slit of him, running the flat side of it back down his length as she worked her way downwards.

“Fuck, Jesus…”

That was a good sign, and she sound of him pulling off the road, pressing a clicker to open what sounded like gates, before stopping the car and squeezing his fingers tightly against his skull was even better.

“We’re here... I’m—”

He groaned when she nodded, sucking hard and faster, one hand embracing the bit of him she couldn’t reach with her lips as her other cupped his sac, playing gently with his sensitive skin. And then his fingers were drumming hard against the steering wheel, his hips thrusting slightly up into her mouth, and he tried so hard to give her the option of not taking his release on her tongue, but Anna stayed where she was, encouraging as ever.

And he came, his hot cum spilling over her tongue, Anna swallowing it with as much enthusiasm as she had during everything. She sucked him through his orgasm, cleaning off any remainder of mess left on his skin. And when she rose back up, wiping off the tiny bit of him she felt on the corner of her lips, Kristoff reached across the truck, practically pulling her into his lap as he kissed her, hard and wild, breathless as ever.

“What was that for?” He was panting, breathless and flushed as he pulled back and let his eyes dance across her face.

Anna smiled, running a palm down his now scratchy cheek. “It was… an appetizer.”

He groaned and laughed, his head dropping back against the headrest behind him. “Well… then you’ll have to be dessert.”

—

“So,” Anna hummed, leaning over the table and reaching for his hand. “You’re talented, funny, hot, kind, great with kids, fucking amazing at sex, and you can cook?” She rolled her eyes and propped her chin in her hand. “What can’t you do?”

Kristoff’s cheeks flushed but he laughed her off, letting go of her hand as he moved to clear off the table. “Ah, don’t think too highly of me, seriously.”

She leaned back in her chair with a grin. “Why not? You’re the whole package. What a shame you’re not willing to settle down.”

The way his back tensed told her she had said the wrong thing and she stood quickly. “No, I, um.” Anna fumbled to grab the rest of the dishes and came up beside him at the sink. “I didn’t mean… I just… you really are an ideal guy, Kris.” And she would give anything for him to settle down with her... “But I… I’m not saying —“

He sighed and reached over to grab the glasses from her hands. “I know…”

Anna bit at her lip before wrapping her arms around his bicep and rubbing a gentle hand against his shirt. “Do… you want to watch something?” She grinned up at him and shrugged. “Or … not watch something.”

His laughter eased her worries, and he touched gently at her hand on his arm. “Anna… are you sure you’re still…” he paused, turned to face her, and placed his hands on her shoulders. “You’re still okay with this, right? This arrangement? Because if you’re not —“

“I am!” Her cheeks darkened as she answered far too quickly. “I am. Are you?”

“Yes.”

She threw her arms around his neck and pulled him down to her, sliding her lips over his. “Good,” she mumbled, giggling when his arms circled around her waist and lifted her up onto the counter, settling her knees on either side of his hips.

His mouth trailed across her skin, settling for far too little time behind her ear before he found her throat, kissing and sucking at the fragile skin there. Anna could feel the mark he was leaving, knew he was being too rough on her, but didn’t care in the slightest as his hands trailed down her waist, her hips, her thighs, sneaking up under the hem of her skirt. When his fingers reached her center, brushing lightly over her damp panties, Anna sighed.

Kristoff only smirked as he got down on his knees. He kissed his way up her thighs, now bruising intentionally as she swung her legs over his shoulders, using his body as leverage to push her bottom off the countertop when he moved to pull her panties down. “Should we… go to the bedroom?”

He shook his head, nipping the skin right beside her core. “I prefer to eat in the kitchen.”

Then he dove in, feasting on her as if he had been starving.

Anna saw stars for the first time in her life.

—

They sat together on his couch, Anna curled up against his side as he ran his thumb gently up and down her shoulder. After bringing her to her climax twice with his mouth, all she had wanted to do was relax and rest for a little while. Kristoff had smiled and said of course, wiping at the remnants of her on his chin, before kissing her softly and carrying her to the other room.

An hour was spent watching whatever he happened to flip to, as they both wound down from their busy day. But it was getting late, and Anna really didn’t feel like driving home, and she let herself dare to wonder if…

“It’s getting late,” she hummed, turning her head on his shoulder to look up at his face. “So…”

He smiled, nodding. “You want me to drive you home or back to the rink to get your car?”

Oh.

She tried to ignore the ache in her chest. He had never stayed at her apartment, and she shouldn’t have been surprised at this response, but she still lost her breath for just a moment. Anna had almost thought that he was inviting her to his home for a reason. But she had to remind herself that… it really wasn’t real, then.

She had said she was still all right with this arrangement. And she was…

Mostly.

“Oh. I guess…” she sat up, letting go of him, and moved to stand. “I guess I need my car. So…”

“Yeah,” he stood as well, heading to the doorway to grab his shoes. “No problem.”

“I just need to pee, first.” He nodded and went to the kitchen to start on some dishes as she headed back to the bathroom. She wasn’t going to cry about this. She definitely wasn’t.

And when she braced her hands on the bathroom sink and stared at herself in the mirror, willing the tiny shine of tears in her eyes to go away, she almost made it happen.

She knew what she signed up for, and she knew that she could handle it.

But one moment of weakness was okay, right?

#btpfic #feistypantswrites

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your-iron-lung · 5 years

Text

No Shade in the Shadow of the Cross 10

aka ‘The House That Dripped Blood’; available to read on AO3 HERE

Story Synopsis: Some weird low-key occult parties start popping up that Steve can’t in good conscience ignore and takes it upon himself to investigate. Billy gets caught up in the consequences of his meddling, and isn’t it funny? For all the strange things the Upside Down has thrown his way, it’s werewolves that Steve has trouble accepting exist.

Chapter Word Count: 7927

Pairings: Eventual Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington

Genre: Supernatural/Drama/Horror-ish

Previous Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9

Next Chapter: 11

Notes: if you follow me you may have noticed i havent posted in a while- this is bc i spend all my time playing ffxiv instead of setting aside determined amounts of time to spend on writing/drawing and i have a bunch of artist alleys coming up that im ill prepared for and im terrible at budgeting UH YEP bad excuse but WHAT CAN YA DO here we are

(ive also set up a ko-fi account if you want to give drop me some tippy tips if u enjoy the word things i do) ((no pressure tho))

"Bigfoot."

Hopper leaned back in his chair; let it creak and groan under his weight until he knew it was at its limit, and then pushed it a little more. He studied the no-nonsense expression on the hunter before him, and intrinsically knew that the man was speaking truth.

"Bigfoot," the old man said again, speaking a little sterner than he had before once he recognized Hopper's amiable expression of disbelief. "I seen't him out in the woods just the other day."

The aging man had lumbered into the police station almost immediately after Hopper came in, bundled in some worn hunting gear that looked almost as old as he was. The deputies had offered to speak with him after hearing his initial claim, but they'd been refused when Callahan couldn't stop smirking. The old hunter had insisted on speaking with Hopper, who leaned forward now, taking the stress off of his chair to take a sip of the coffee Florence had brought in for him. He didn't look at the old man as he drank.

"So let me get this straight," Hopper began, setting his coffee aside to rub at his forehead, "you came in first thing in the morning worried about a missing friend of yours, but now you're telling me you're worried about Bigfoot."

"You know me, Jim," the hunter said, a slight hint of pleading desperation edging out of his voice. "You know I ain't some crazy old coot. I ain't seen Lamm in a long while, and yessir I'm worried 'bout him, but when I went out to his cabin to check on him I seen it: I seen Bigfoot!"

As incredulous as the claim was, Hopper believed him- not about it being Bigfoot, exactly, but he believed that the man had seen something out there in the woods, and it had the possibility of being that something he'd spent the last two weeks fruitlessly searching for.

Regardless, he didn't want to let the old hunter know he was taking him seriously. The last thing he needed was for his community to think he believed in this sort of nonsense, but people in town were going missing, and people he knew were getting hurt: if his only lead should turn up in the form of an old man believing he'd caught sight of an urban legend, then so be it. He'd follow it through, but he'd be subtle about it.

"You sure it wasn't just a trick of the light or something, Wes? You know your eyes aren't what they used to be," Hopper remarked casually, softening his voice to let him down easy. "And this isn't the first time Lamm's gone missing; you know he's one of those types of shut ins. Remember those weeks he was gone hunting 'vampires'? He's the kind of guy who lives in his own head more than he lives out here, he'll turn up again on his own time."

The hunter's lips twitched into a frown. "Alright, maybe Lamm is a little off kilter," he relented, averting his eyes for a second, "and maybe it weren't Bigfoot, but the tracks it left were huge 'n mighty, by God, and I ain't seen nothin' else like it before. If it weren't Bigfoot, then at the very least it had big feet, Jim, and I ain't never seen feet quite like 'em."

Interest piqued, Hopper became more attentive. "How's that?"

"Well, they was stretched out lookin', for one." The hunter paused, tilting his head slightly as he tried to recall the details of what he'd seen out in the woods. He held his hands up, spaced apart in an approximation of how long the prints he'd found had been. "Human lookin', almost, which is what had me thinkin' it coulda been Bigfoot. They weren't the tracks of somethin' native 'round here, and I only caught but the barest glimpse of it, but it was tall, Jim; taller'n you or I."

That sounded right; the prints he'd found and unsuccessfully tracked were, as the hunter said, 'huge 'n mighty' and matched the description of what he'd just been told. It didn't take an expert's opinion (though he had consulted one) to discern that the markings just weren't natural. Hopper set his mug of coffee aside and pulled out a notepad from one of his desk drawers. He uncapped a pen and held it to the page for a moment before writing down a few preliminary notes for himself on the top line.

The hunter cocked his head and leaned forward to look at what he was writing and said, "That don't look official."

"Because it's not; this one's just gonna be between us, alright?" Hopper said, looking up to meet Wesley's blue, watery eyes. He held the stare long enough to get his point across, waiting for a sign of affirmation before looking back to the notepad and pressing the tip of the pen to the paper. "Tell me where and when exactly you saw this 'Bigfoot' of yours."

The day was cold and grey at its start, with harsh, biting winds ushering in thick clouds that blocked out any hope of the sun ever making an appearance. Steve eyed the sky apprehensively as he made his way back to his car, wary of the way the clouds looked as though they might start dropping hail on him at a moment's notice. Billy feigned disinterest as Steve opened the rear passenger door and leaned in to shove the box of things he'd bought at the Hunting & Camping store into the backseat. Even with his vision obscured in part by the sunglasses he'd elected to wear, he didn't miss the strong look of annoyance that graced Steve's features when he came around to the driver's seat and entered the car with a pout.

"That guy give you a hard time or something?" Billy asked as Steve buckled in and put the BMW into reverse, turning in his seat to hastily jerk the car out of the parking lot. "Why do you look like someone shit in your cereal?"

Steve clicked his tongue. "He just kept asking what a 'kid like me' needed with a bunch of chains and rope and shit. My god, he just would not let it go, like he thought I was trying to build my own sex dungeon or something. Fucking annoying."

"You mean that's not what we're doing?" Billy asked, grinning a bit at the way Steve's face pinched up in disgust. "What'd you say?"

"I told him the truth; said it was to tie up a werewolf. 'It's a full moon tonight, y'know? Gotta tie 'em down or they go all crazy on you', I said to him, and you know what he said to me then?" Steve asked, speeding out of the little downtown shopping area Hawkins played host to and sounding every bit as gossipy as Carol did when she caught wind of a scandal.

"How the fuck would I?" Billy drawled, turning away from the conversation to watch the scenery pass by disinterestedly.

"He said, 'Damn fool kids will never learn'," Steve said, ignoring him. "'Damn fool kids will never learn', like, what the hell does that mean?"

Billy shrugged. "Who knows? As long as he accepted daddy's plastic then what does it matter?"

Steve clicked his tongue again in annoyance and rolled his eyes. "Fuck you."

Feeling the beginnings of a headache coming on, Billy declined to retort. They rode on in silence, the chains in the box Steve had bought clinking together softly in the backseat before the radio was finally turned on to mask the sound.

Regardless of whether or not Steve actually believed something was going to happen to Billy that night, he couldn't deny that the whole day leading up to that evening just felt… off. From meeting up with Billy earlier that afternoon to go by the camping store, to grabbing lunch together before heading over to the Henderson's house, it all felt wrong.

It was something Steve had difficulty pinpointing the origins of, but as they began work on clearing out enough space in the cellar for Billy to do whatever it was he thought he was going to do, he soon came to realize that the feeling of wrongness seemed to stem from Billy himself.

Few words could better describe Billy than 'annoying' or 'smart-mouthed', but he'd been uncharacteristically tight-lipped all day. He'd become a remarkably dull version of himself, and Steve wasn't sure quite how to handle that.

Usually one to argue and bite back at everything Steve said, when he'd begun dishing out instructions on how best to clear out some floor space in the cellar, Billy hadn't talked back to him a single time; merely lit a cigarette and blinked at him slowly, silently acknowledging what had been asked of him before getting on with it.

It was unsettling. Steve could almost say that he hated how submissive Billy was because of how used he'd gotten to the back-talk and smart-ass remarks Billy usually had ready for him, and though, yes, there were times he had wished for this kind of attitude from him, the silence and absolute subordination coupled with all of the other behavioral changes Billy was exhibiting were enough to set Steve on edge.

Billy kept tonguing the gaps in his teeth where they'd fallen out over the course of the week, and he never seemed to realize he wasn't alone. Sometimes he'd jump at the sound of Steve's voice, or shake his head and crease his brow in confusion when he turned around to see Steve moving stuff somewhere behind him, but arguably the worst part of it all was that he stank.

He'd tried to mask it with an overabundance of cologne that had nearly suffocated Steve when they began working in closer quarters, but buried beneath that was a hint of something that smelled awfully rotten. If he had to, Steve could liken it to the stench of the monster they'd encountered in the woods, but he chose not to, instead chalking it up to a severe case of nervous b.o. or something. The implications that the scents could be related bothered him too deeply to believe, and even then he wasn't sure he really wanted to know what the source of the smell was.

The stench of decay emanating from Billy's person was worrisome enough on its own, but with so much to do in order to get ready before sunset, Steve had a hard time figuring out where to primarily apply his focus: there were simply too many things going on for him to worry about one thing more than another.

The giant hole in the wall that Dart made to tunnel out of the cellar was his immediate concern, but Dustin had done a good job of hiding it from his mother by placing a tall shelf in front of it, essentially blocking it off. That didn't mean it wasn't entirely inaccessible, but Steve wasn't sure what more he could do about it. In all honesty, he'd forgotten about it until he'd tried to move the shelf aside and then found himself peeking into the eerie tunnel. He'd knocked over several things in his haste to put the shelf back in place, but Billy hadn't seemed to notice it, and if he didn't, maybe he wouldn't think to use it if- or when- he lost himself to whatever supernatural effects he was experiencing.

"Big if, though," Steve muttered aloud to himself. Turning away from the shelf, he looked over to where Billy was inspecting some old power tools, turning a nail gun over in his hands before setting it back in the box he'd pulled it out of. "So, are we good or what? This baby-proofed enough for you?" Steve asked, startling Billy out of whatever ruminations he'd been lost to.

Billy looked at Steve blankly, face impassive and emotionless. He frowned, and then looked around himself as though he'd forgotten where he was. When he spoke, his voice was monotone and devoid of his usual arrogance as he said, "I don't know, Harrington; is it?"

"You tell me, man, this was your idea." Steve watched as Billy returned his focus on the box of tools he'd originally been rummaging through. Picking up a hammer, Billy balanced its weight in his hands before gripping the handle tightly. Steve distrusted the look in Billy's eye as he held it. "What are you, a child? Quit rifling through their shit, put it back," he said.

Billy didn't reply or even acknowledge that he'd heard him. Ignoring Steve's demand, he stepped up to the abandoned work bench to splay his left hand out over the wood and lifted the ballpeen up.

"What the fuck are you doing? Put it down," Steve said again, his voice rising slightly in pitch when he understood what Billy was doing. He started towards him in an effort to stop him, but halted when the hammer was brought crashing down.

It missed his hand, but the force of the impact splintered the wooden table's surface. Steve gaped as Billy turned around, a cocky little smile turning up his lips.

"Someone could get hurt real bad down here if they weren't careful, huh, Harrington?" he said, a fierceness that Steve hated to admit he'd missed charging his voice. "But we've been real careful cleaning this shithole out, haven't we, pally?"

"You sick piece of shit, give me that," Steve snapped, snatching the hammer away from Billy's pliant grip. "Fuck you, Hargrove; you could've just said you wanted to move this shit out of here."

"Had you pegged as being more of a visual learner," Billy sneered as Steve threw the hammer back into the box of tools. "Your concern was touching, though, really."

"You're the one who came asking me for help, fuckface. Begged me, almost, if I'm remembering right. 'Oh, Steve, help me, I'm so scared of fake movie monsters!'"

Steve hadn't meant to rise to the taunt, but Billy's insufferable attitude had him stooping to his level as he hoisted the hefty box of tools in his arms and lugged them over to the stairway. Billy laughed dryly at Steve's mocking tone.

"We both wish that fucking thing had been fake," he said as Steve placed the box on the ground at the foot of the stairs beside the box of supplies he'd bought earlier. They were both quiet for a moment, their attempt at a conversation dying as quickly as it had been brought on.

"Only one thing left to do then," Steve said morosely.

Billy blinked and turned to face the stairway, eyes rising slowly up to where the cellar doors were propped open wide. Steve felt the guilt of having to lock him in prematurely and had to remind himself that he wanted to be locked in.

"Better hop to it then, Harrington," Billy said lowly, lips curling back into a familiar grin, but without all his teeth in place to flesh it out, Steve found the display to be more unsettling than annoying. "Let's get this sex dungeon set up."

Steve grimaced. "Not even in your wildest dreams, Hargrove."

"Nothing's off the table in my dreams, pretty boy." Billy breathed out a small laugh at the disgusted look on Steve's face, but the grin he'd been displaying slowly fell away. "Is it getting dark yet?"

"Uh, kind of, but the sun hasn't set yet," Steve replied, stepping up into the stairwell to check the status of the sky. It was as dull and grey as it had been all day, the overcast weather acting as a harbinger for the snowfall the local meteorologist had foretold was coming. "If you took off those fucking sunglasses you'd be able to tell."

"These are for your benefit as much as mine," Billy snapped, frowning suddenly.

"Yeah, okay, whatever that means," Steve said dismissively as he began to fish out the cords of rope from the box, letting them spool out onto the ground before gathering them into his hands. "How do you uh, how do you want to do this?"

"Aw, is this kitten's first time tying someone up?" Billy purred, not moving from where he stood in the middle of the cellar, directly under the light. "Who knew 'King' Steve's favourite flavor was vanilla."

Steve rolled his eyes as he brought the ropes over, wrinkling his nose at the mixed smell of rot and cologne that got stronger with proximity. "I've dated girls kinkier than you'd know what to do with," he retorted as he gestured for Billy to hold out his hands.

"Oh please," Billy said with a snort, "there are no kinky girls in Hawkins or I would've found them by now."

"You're obviously not looking hard enough," Steve muttered in response, gesturing again for Billy to hold out his hands.

Shrugging out of his leather jacket and tossing it over the work table he'd splintered, Billy held his hands up obediently and watched stoically as Steve wound the rope around his wrists, binding his hands together roughly.

"What's should our safe word be?" Billy teased, smirking as Steve wound another, longer length of rope over the original knot.

"There is no safe word because this isn't a sex thing!" Steve insisted angrily.

Flustered, he sighed irritably as he wound the long part of the rope around Billy's waist, hating how close he had to get in order to make sure the rope was tight enough, though Billy seemed to be enjoying how close he'd gotten. He kept shifting his weight around, trying, it seemed, to get Steve into a more compromising position. Annoyed, but determined to finish, Steve did his best to ignore Billy's constant movement and the disgusting, rotten musk that was wafting off of his person to finish tying him up.

"Why do you fucking stink so goddamn badly?" Steve finally asked with a scowl, repressing the urge to gag as he tied the ropes off into a clumsy knot. He stumbled away from Billy, reaching up to pinch his nostrils shut so he wouldn't have to smell the rot anymore, but the rancid scent seemed to have lodged itself deep into his nose. "You smell like a dead Calvin Klein model or something, holy shit, did you use a whole fucking bottle?"

The amusement Billy had held while taunting Steve left his face. His smirk shrunk into an awkward grimace as he looked away in embarrassment.

"I don't know, alright?" he admitted bitterly. "It doesn't matter how much I bathe, and between that and my eyes I have no idea what the fuck's going on with me."

"What about your eyes?" Steve asked hesitantly, unsure if he really wanted to know the reasoning behind why Billy had insisted on wearing sunglasses all day.

Billy faltered for a moment, hesitating briefly before reaching up and plucking the sunglasses off his face. With both hands bound together, he awkwardly folded the legs against the lenses and tucked them into the collar of his button up. He turned his gaze to Steve, who couldn't help but suck in a slight breath of surprise.

His eyes were so bloodshot they looked ready to start bleeding straight out of the sockets. There were hardly any whites left in the sclera to be seen as Billy winked at him, looking immensely uncomfortable at the way Steve was gaping openly at him.

"Do they- hurt? Or whatever?" Steve asked, unconsciously taking a few steps forward to get a better look. In the dim lighting of the basement, even the blues of Billy's eyes looked reddish.

"What's it to you if they do?" Billy snapped, suddenly irritable. He squared his jaw and looked away, unable to face the amount of concern Steve was showing him.

The worry Steve felt for the both of them in that moment grew stronger as he backed off, letting the matter of the changes in Billy's physicality drop, despite how alarming they were. "If I don't hear anything an hour after the sun goes down, I'll let you out," Steve said abruptly as he walked backwards towards the stairwell, grasping for the hand rail behind him blindly, unsure why he was so reluctant now to let Billy out of his sight. It was what they'd agreed upon earlier, and he said it meaning for it to sound reassuring, but the way Billy's lips twitched made it apparent he didn't interpret it that way.

Billy didn't respond.

"Well, uh, I guess that's it then," Steve said as he bent down, placing his box of chains atop the box of tools Billy had been messing around with before lifting them up together to carry them up and out of their man-made dungeon.

The cellar doors shrieked loudly as they were closed, a high pitched agony that erupted when the metal grinded against itself uncooperatively. Steve didn't mind that so much as he hated the sound the chains made as he wove them through the door handles, reminding him of what he was doing and who he was imprisoning as the steel rattled sharply against the doors. He winced at the commotion, but continued to loop them through the small door handles until no more could be fit between them. He tested their sturdiness by attempting to pull them open, and to his pleasure, they remained shut. The doors were secured; the cellar, as far as he was concerned, was now a suitable prison. All that was left of him now was to play the role of the jailor appropriately.

He stared down at his handiwork for a moment before the cold, blowing winds prompted him to seek shelter. Already a few snowflakes were fluttering out of the sky, flying into his cheeks as he turned away, re-gathering the box of tools in his arms and headed for the door Dustin promised he'd leave a key for.

Searching under the backdoor mat, Steve found the promised key, and true to the rest of Dustin's word, the entire home was empty, save for the cat that chirped a greeting for him from atop the kitchen counter. With a deep intake of breath Steve glanced at his watch, stepped inside, and shut the door behind him, wondering if he really was prepared for the worst. In the trunk of his car his bat waited for him, ready to be put to use just in case shit really did hit the fan, but he found himself questioning if he'd really be able to use it; bludgeoning monsters to death was one thing, but turning it on a boy he knew was only a monster figuratively was something else entirely.

For both his and Billy's sakes, he hoped it wouldn't come to that.

Shrugging out of his thick coat, Steve set it down beside him as he took a seat on the Henderson's couch. He glanced at his watch again, dismayed by the fact that time wasn't progressing as fast as he wished it was and sat in anxious worry about what the rest of the night might have in store.

But at least he was comfortable and warm.

The cellar was not.

It wasn't the cold that Billy minded, so much as it was the anticipation: when would the transformation start? Exactly at sundown? A little before? A little after? Would he actually end up transforming? And why the fuck did the word 'transform' make him so damn uncomfortable? The unknown factors surrounding his circumstances were almost worse than any of the physical symptoms he'd been experiencing as of late, and he'd been experiencing a lot.

Anxiety wasn't something Billy had a lot of experience with, but it was the only thing he could think of that explained why his heart had been beating oddly all day. It was running at a notably higher rate, as though he'd been playing basketball or working out extraneously, and brought on palpitations he wasn't used to dealing with at the elevated speed.

In short he felt terrible. His whole body ached like it was going through puberty again. Both his arms and legs were sore in ways that mimicked the aches that came with growing pains when he'd had them, but he couldn't understand why he would begin to hurt in that way again. He hadn't had the energy to work out in two days despite eating practically anything he could get his hands on, so the soreness in his limbs was unwarranted. Either his body was preparing itself for the coming night, or he was having an incredibly drawn-out heart attack.

Standing at the foot of the stairwell, Billy felt the cold permeating in through the closed opening and moved away to find a better spot to wait. He wanted rub his arms to bring some warmth into them, but couldn't with the way they were bound. Already the ropes were beginning to dig into his wrists, rubbing uncomfortably against his skin as he realized he wasn't actually that cold anyway, despite the frigid weather; his body temperature had been on a steady incline leading up to now, leaving him with a rosy complexion and a near constant fever, the long-term effects of which left him feeling severely disoriented.

He could barely remember meeting up at Steve's house only a few hours ago to carpool to his kid friend's house, riding with the windows down in spite of the severe wind-chill as they went into town to get lunch and buy rope. Even though they'd ridden together, he couldn't remember now if they'd actually talked about anything or not. All he could remember were the low tones of the radio and the resonating throbs of the wind as it swooped in through the open windows, rushing to fill the audial space between them. It was as though his mind had been steeped in a fog, and he couldn't accurately think through it: everything was clouded over, incomprehensible, like waking up the morning after a bender and being unable to remember everything he'd done the night before, but knowing all the same that he'd taken part in some memorable shit.

Would there be pain, he wondered, and would it come on as suddenly as it had to the character in the movie he'd made Steve watch? Even though 'American Werewolf' was just a movie, stories like that had to spawn from some sort of truth, didn't they?

The dim little lightbulb that hung overhead flickered briefly, drawing Billy's attention to it as he took a seat at the work table's bench, wishing his eyes weren't a dry and sore as they were.

Coming from above, he could hear the muffled sounds of a TV show permeating through the cellar's ceiling. He couldn't help but think ill of Steve in that moment, but if their situations had been reversed, he probably would have been doing the same thing; he couldn't fault Harrington for finding a way to pass the time, though he wished he had something similar to do for himself. There was nothing interesting to hold his attention, and time passed at a dreadfully slow rate.

Stretching out on the bench, he laid himself down slowly, mindful of which parts of his back hurt the most, and gazed up at the cement overhead disinterestedly. He listened to the muffled sounds of the distant television, trying to conjure an image in his mind that corresponded with what little dialogue he could hear, but the rapid beating of his heart overpowered the noises coming from the TV. He closed his eyes and focused on his breathing in an attempt to lower his heart rate, but it just kept going, pounding in a determined rhythm that seemed to be quickening with each passing minute. A bead of sweat trickled down from his scalp and over his ear as he wondered if the tingling he felt in the tips of his fingers was because of the cold or from the ropes being tied too tight.

He flexed his fingers, opening and closing his hands into a fist to try and bring sensation back into his fingertips, but to no avail. They remained numb, and the cause of which eluded him.

Frowning, Billy stiffly sat up and began to pinch at his skin, belatedly realizing that the numbness was spreading slowly down the lengths of his fingers, a sensation that sent a chill running down the length of his spine.

"Oh," he said. "Oh shit."

The pain, when he finally did begin to feel it, started in his feet. There were still thirty minutes before the sun went down.

Billy licked his lips nervously as he tried to get his boots off, his numb fingers and bound hands fumbling uselessly with the laces as the pain centralized in his toes and grew in sudden intensity. He was no stranger to pain, but this was unlike anything he'd ever felt before: it was sharp and stabbing, with each throb of pain stemming from the bones in his toes, as though they were growing more pointed in an attempt to pierce their way through his skin as they elongated. He could feel them cracking; each joint slowly popping free of itself as the bones began to push themselves forward.

"Oh, shit," he repeated, and could hear the muffled sounds of a laugh track from whatever sitcom Steve had turned on upstairs roaring in delight as he struggled to finally pull his boots off.

The stabbing sensation didn't relent, even once his shoes lay discarded by his feet. He peeled away his socks with shaking hands and stared down at his toes.

They'd turned a bright, beet red and were bulging like they might burst apart, his skin bubbling up around toenails that were already starting to peel off. He couldn't help the whimper as he tentatively felt them, a pain like touching a freshly popped, skinless blister causing him to draw his fingers back.

It was real. It was happening.

Sweating freely now, he reached away from his feet to brush his dampened hair away from his forehead as sweat rolled down the sides of his face. He paused when he felt his hair pull free from his scalp, clinging to the back of his hand stubbornly. Billy stared at the loose, curly strands with a horrified expression and reached up with a shaking hand to grab more. When he pulled, a handful of his hair came away easily, eliciting another whimper from deep within his throat. Disgusted and frightened, he threw his hair away to the floor.

Breathing quickly, he hastily rubbed his hands free of the loose strands in a panic and tried to calm himself. His whole body trembled as he breathed in deeply through his nose, wondering if he should try to call out to Steve to alert him that the worst case scenario was indeed unfolding. Another laugh track from upstairs came through the ceiling as he felt a sharp, sudden stab of pain in his ribs, prompting him to gasp loudly and curl forward over himself. He could actually feel some part of his ribcage shifting inside his torso as he tucked his arms in to his sides. Any lingering thoughts of trying to remain calm left him as he transitioned from panic to full on fear.

He stood up not knowing what he was going to do, but regretted it instantly: as soon as he put weight on his foot, his ankle collapsed in on itself and brought him to the floor. A shout almost came out with his fall, but he managed to internalize the pain as he was used to doing and grit his teeth as his foot essentially broke itself in half.

The central part of his foot that arched snapped without warning. Billy swore loudly and reached for his foot instinctively, wanting to hold the break in place, but he couldn't bear the agony that came with the contact. Warm tears leaked from his eyes, and when his other lateral arch also split in half, he couldn't help but cry out.

From up above, the noises coming from the television ceased. Steve must have heard him and was listening for him now, trying to gauge whether or not he should intervene. Billy clenched his jaw tighter, determined to keep quiet, but gasped loudly when two of his molars gave out under the pressure, snapping to the side and coming loose of his gumline. The copper taste of blood filled his mouth as he spat the teeth out, shuddering uncontrollably when he felt the vertebrae in his spine begin to pop, one by one, pushing up against his skin that was quickly beginning to feel too tight.

Huffing in great breaths of air, he panted heavily as the bones of his tones finally pierced through his skin, causing most of the flesh surrounding them to burst open like little balloons. Blood splattered across the floor in gruesome, miniature arcs and Billy finally, finally became undone. He shrieked, unable to keep silent any longer as new appendages could be seen inside the flayed bits of bloody skin, slowly growing outward, already a part of him.

Warm tears of pain streaked down his face in thick lines as the skin of his feet continued to be ripped apart, making way for more muscle, new flesh. He wiped at his eyes helplessly and thought he could hear Steve's voice distantly calling out his name, asking if everything was alright.

He blinked, his vision blurred by the tears that would not clear away as he pulled himself over to the stairway.

Shaking wildly all over, Billy stretched out on the floor, realizing belatedly that the waistband of his jeans was growing tighter and tighter. Hissing sharply, he cursed himself for not having the foresight to undress himself as he hastily tried to undo his belt. A pain similar to the initial agony he'd felt in his toes was beginning to manifest itself in his fingers as both of his hands slowly began to turn red, swelling up under the bonds of the rope as he fumbled with the buckle, desperately trying to get it to come free.

"Fuck!" he shouted in frustration, his clothing growing ever tighter as his body continued to bloat. He felt like he was being pinched in half with his belt acting as an unneeded tourniquet. "Fuck! Fuck!"

"Hey! Talk to me Hargrove, what's going on?"

Steve's worried voice trilled down through the cellar doors as he continued vocalizing his frustrations. Billy felt an organ in his abdomen shift out of place before popping, prompting him to groan and curl in on himself before he threw up. His couldn't undo his belt as his vision began to darken.

"Hargrove!" Steve shouted, banging a fist against the steel door. "What the hell's going on? Talk to me!"

"Fuck you!" Billy screamed, unable to articulate anything else as he tried to rub the blackness out of his eyes, but the more he pressed his fingers to them, they more they began to hurt.

A pressure was building up behind them the more he rubbed, and as it increased, his vision grew ever darker. He kept blinking, over and over, feeling his eyes bulge out of their sockets and against his eyelids, trying now to keep his eyeballs in place. He was hyperventilating when he finally went blind, the pressure behind his eyes becoming intolerable eyes before it finally came too much, and his eyes popped free.

He felt them slide out onto over his checks and onto the floor, the slimy, blood-slick nerves leaving tracks of blood on his face as he became totally and completely blind.

"No," he whispered to himself, retching again on the floor as he scrambled across the cement, trying to find the stairs, unable to see. "No, no! This isn't real!"

Beyond the cellar doors, Steve had his ear pressed against the slight crack between the panels, desperately trying to understand what was going on. He wasn't sure what to make of the noises he was hearing, unable to determine if Billy was just trying to mess with him or if he was in actual distress.

"Hargrove," he said impatiently, turning his head to try and peak in through the crack to get a glimpse of what was going on, "you gotta start talking to me, man; what the hell's going on down there?"

"I'm fucking blind," he heard Billy shout, his voice rife with fear. "I can't see anything!"

His voice was shaking as he spoke, and Steve knew then that whatever was happening was legitimate; Billy wasn't one to openly show weakness.

"Okay, stay calm," Steve stammered, but he wasn't sure if that was actually sound advice or not. "It's- it's going to be okay, okay?"

Billy howled, and Steve understood that the pain that carried with his voice must have been terrible to get him to shriek like that. He licked his lips anxiously, not knowing what support he could possibly offer him. He continuously opened and shut his mouth, words of encouragement dying on his tongue before he could manage to speak them.

And then, all at once, the cacophony of agony ceased.

Steve couldn't hear anything over the rapid sound of his breathing for a moment before he finally spoke: "Hargrove? Is… are you okay?"

"Hurts." Billy's voice, quiet, strained, and barely audible over the sounds of things (flesh, fabric) slowly tearing, sounded disconcertingly like he was speaking with a throat full of water. It was gargling and grotesque; completely unlike the smooth, honeyed voice he'd become known for.

"Okay, what, uh, what… what hurts?" Steve whispered in response, fear quieting his previously urgent tone.

"Everything."

"Shit," Steve said to himself, backing away from the cellar door panels as the sounds of something large and heavy being knocked over made him jump. "Just, uh, stay calm," he said, though he wasn't sure if he was saying it to himself or Billy. From down below, he heard Billy groan loudly before going silent again.

Steve's heart was pounding as he hesitated, unsure of what to do. All the details of Billy's haphazardly concocted plan fled his mind as he tried to think back on what they'd agreed to do if something ended up happening, and his first instinct was to open the doors to go down and check on him. He looked at the chains wrapped tightly around the door handles and bit his lip before crouching down and pressing his eye to the crack.

The overhead light wasn't bright enough to reveal much, but at the base of the stairwell there was a small circle of illumination. Steve squinted, ignoring the cold of the steel as he pressed his face against the door, trying to see all that he could.

Blood stains. Torn bits of… something he couldn't quite make out. Dark masses on the stairwell; lots of evidence that pointed towards Billy transforming, but no trace of Billy himself.

"Hargrove," Steve whispered, and then shook his head to clear himself of his cowardice. "Hargrove," he said again, louder and with more emphasis, "dude, you have to talk me through what's happening down there."

He waited, unconsciously holding his breath as he waited for a reply. It was steadily growing darker as the sun slowly sank, making it all the harder to see into the cellar from the tiny slit. Frowning and unable to see anything, Steve turned his head and pressed his ear against the door. From somewhere in the depths of the cellar he could hear something breathing heavily. It was moving, too; he could hear something shuffling, moving around the floor space cautiously.

When he turned his head again to see through the crack, he caught a glimpse of... something large and hulking cross under the light, tall enough to set the lightbulb swinging. He couldn't help but suck in a sharp breath of air, his lungs and throat burning with the sting of the cold weather. The thing- whatever Billy had become- halted just outside the rim of light. Entranced, Steve found he couldn't move as it emitted a low, threatening growl that sounded more like a man impersonating a dog than an actual beast.

From his limited viewpoint, he couldn't see the way the muscles in its legs were tightening, or how it had begun to crouch; he didn't have time to react as it sprang forward, jumping up the stairs in a single leap to ram itself against the doors.

The chains held the doors shut, but the sudden impact smashed the metal against Steve's nose and soon all he could smell was blood as it drained out of his nostrils. He fell backwards, holding his nose as the Billy-creature growled again. Horrified, Steve could only sit in the snow and watch as the doors lurched forward when Billy rammed against them again, trying to escape. The second impact loosened the restraints, and all Steve could do in that moment was watch as they rattled uselessly in place, beginning to slip through the handles as they hadn't been properly locked into place.

Cursing to himself, staggered to his feet and rushed to grab the chains, but as Billy threw his body against the doors again it soon became obvious that even if the doors stayed shut, they were about to pop free of their hinges entirely. Blood dripped down over his lips and onto the metal panels as he tried to think of what he could possibly do to counteract the damage Billy had done. In an act of desperation, he threw himself against the steel and hoped that his added bodyweight would be enough to keep them in place.

If it managed to do anything, he couldn't tell. Almost immediately Billy was throwing himself against the doors again, nearly bucking Steve off.

"Stop!" Steve cried out, grasping for the chains to hold them in place. His fingers scrabbled against the cold steel links even as Billy let out another deep, throaty growl. With the doors as loose as they were, Steve was almost certain the doors wouldn't survive another body-slam. "Give it up, Hargrove!" Steve said again, desperately. "Just- fuck, Billy, stop!"

He braced himself for another impact, but it never came. Eyes closed in anticipation, Steve blinked them open and exhaled shakily, his fingers trembling as he let the chains go. Crystalized air puffed out in front of his face over and over as he rolled off the doors and stood up unsteadily, trying to wipe away the blood that had already frozen over and turned to crust on his upper lip. Somehow, miraculously, his pleading had worked, but before he could take comfort in that fact, other disturbing sounds began to creep back up to him from down below.

Things were being tossed around; the metallic clang of old paint cans being bounced off the floors and walls mixed with the hoarse, angry vocalizations of the creature Billy had become made his blood run colder than the air currently was. The noises Billy was making were at once both animalistic and human, deep and throaty and more akin to the bellows of a moose than a man or wolf.

Steve stood in front of the cellar doors not knowing what to do. Already their plan was falling apart, and he was quickly becoming aware of how vastly unprepared he was to handle the situation. He wanted the security of the bat in his trunk, but didn't trust himself to leave the doors unattended for the length of time it would take him to run back inside and grab his keys to get it, but he felt so weak without it.

Another loud, crashing noise came from within and Steve stilled, listening intently. Faintly, he could hear Billy snuffling about, and after the sun finally completely descended, all was quiet. His nose was throbbing as he stood attentively, but when nothing more could be heard, his stomach sank.

With trembling hands and his mind screaming at him to stop, he knelt by the doors and slowly unwound the chains from the handles. The fact that he couldn't hear anything coming from within didn't sit well with him; he had to make sure Billy was still down there.

He tried to shift the chains as quietly as possible, but with how nervous he was, he had a hard time keeping his hands steady. They rattled noisily against the door, grating on his already frazzled nerves as they slid free. Heart pounding madly, Steve carefully pulled the doors open and took the first step down into the cellar.

It was silent. He couldn't hear anything as he hesitantly took a second step, mentally berating himself over and over for being stupid enough to walk defenseless into the lion's mouth. He had no idea what Billy was capable of now, or if he'd even recognize him enough to (hopefully) have enough sense to not harm him. The lightbulb that dangled freely from the ceiling was swaying, throwing its light around erratically, showing him glimpses of the gore that lined the steps.

Eyes wide, Steve gagged at the sight of the flayed strips of bloodied skin that were splattered near everywhere. He had to avert his eyes as he took another step, making slow progress as he was careful not to step in any of the mess. At the bottom of the stairs he warily peered around the walls, hoping he'd only stuck his head into the lion's mouth figuratively. To his immediate relief, but long-term dismay, there was no trace of Billy to be seen in the space of the cellar.

Exhaling deeply, Steve tried to even out his breathing as he came to stand in the middle of the room, looking around to assess the damage. As the swinging lightbulb steadied, he turned towards where the shelf that was hiding the tunnel had been and found it on the ground, knocked to its side and several feet away from where it had originally been positioned. His shoulders drooped at the realization of Billy's escape.

He went and stood before the opening of the tunnel and felt all hope of remedying the situation vanish. A numbness overtook him as he recognized his responsibilities of keeping Billy captive had changed; he was the only one who knew about Billy's circumstances, and he was the only one who could do anything about it now. Distantly, and much further away then he would've liked, he could hear the muted, labored sounds of Billy's breathing as he escaped confinement through the underground system.

The burden of his responsibilities threatened to overwhelm him in that instant, but instead of letting himself be overtaken by despair, Steve took a deep, steadying breath and rolled his shoulders back. He hesitated for only a minute before he took charge and ran in after him, disregarding his urgent need to turn back and get his bat out of the car. There was no time, he thought; no time to get a weapon, no time to get a flashlight. If Billy was now as the werewolf in the woods was, then he was capable of speeds greater than Steve could muster, and every second mattered. If he lost his trail now, then it would be lost to him entirely. There was no time; he had to go now or he wouldn't go at all.

Alone and unarmed Steve ran, chasing after Billy into the dark, cold tunnel, hoping he would be able to catch him in time, and dreading the repercussions that would come if he couldn't.

#harringrove #harringrove fic #billy hargrove/steve harrington #billy/steve #steve harrington #billy hargrove #werewolf!billy #slow burn #long fic #stranger things #stranger things fic

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