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lpwrites · 3 years

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Scott McCall Appreciation Week - Day 4

Rafael McCall entered his ex-wife’s home with little expectations. He’d have a chat with Scott, have some dinner, and go home.

Therefore, when he stepped through the threshold to see a veritable army of people in the kitchen, he had to stop and do a double-take.

Derek Hale, whose file had spent quite some time on his desk, sat on the floor, back against the entryway to the kitchen. Beside him was a bucket of potatoes, which he was peeling, clearly trying to keep the skin in one long curl. He had succeeded a few times, and had piled the coiled skins in front of him. Peeled potatoes were deposited in a large pot on his other side, where a girl with short brown hair proceeded to chop them into smaller pieces.

At the dinner table, Lydia Martin sat with a blonde girl, the two working in tandem to roll balls of dough, pressing them using the cast iron metal press he was sure Melissa’s mother had left them ages ago. They had clearly fallen into a good rhythm, if the stack of tortillas in front of them was any indication.

On the other side of the table, Allison Argent and Kira Yukimura sniffled miserably, chopping onions and jalapenos and tomatoes. Kira’s eye makeup had run, leaving long streaks of black down her cheeks, but she seemed determined to finish the job before taking care of the problem. Allison didn’t seem to fare any better, though she kept using the back of her hands to try and wipe the worst of it away.

“Whoa, hey, hey! Stop touching your face, you heathen!” Stiles called, using the large chef knife he had in his hands to point at Allison. Pieces of lettuce stuck to the blade, shaking off with every gesture. The tall boy beside Stiles seemed unamused, moving his head out of the way as he continued to chop at the edge of the kitchen’s counter.

“Who gave Stiles a knife?” The girl closest to Derek snorted, tossing chunks of potato into the pot.

“Who do you think?” The boy at Stiles’ station sighed, shooting the blonde girl at the table a fond smile when she threw her head back and laughed.

A pair of twins sat on the counter, shoulder to shoulder in order to fit. They each held a handful of phones, and seemed to be switching between them at random.

“Two minutes,” one called vaguely in the direction of the stove, swinging his legs and thumping against the cabinet in emphasis.

“Oh, thank God,” Isaac Lahey murmured from the stove-top. He stirred the contents of his pot halfheartedly, tapping the spoon against the edge, watching the bright red contents drip back into the pot. Scott, on his other side, flipped tortillas with a barely concealed wince, but nudged Isaac cajolingly.

“We’re almost done?” He offered, and Isaac sighed but nodded with a smile.

“Scott…!” Kira groaned, stepping away from her cutting board with her hands up in surrender. “I’m done… I think? I can’t see.”

Scott weaved his way through the kitchen, scooping up a dishrag from one of the twins as he walked past them. “Hey, let me see.” He wiped Kira’s face gently while she held her hands up and away, steering her to the sink once he was finished. “You did awesome!”

She cheered listlessly, standing shoulder to shoulder with Malia Tate while she scrubbed her hands clean, dropping her head onto her shoulder. Malia grumbled, but headbutted her affectionately.

“Me too, please.” Allison sniffed at the table, sliding all of the onions she and Kira had chopped into a large bowl.

“There’s some waters in the fridge for you girls,” Scott said, wiping Allison’s face clean with a tenderness Rafael had never seen on his son. Allison smiled gratefully, sniffing as she too joined Kira at the sink.

“So we’re done, right?” Kira walked back to the table and slapped a lid offered to her by Malia on the pico de gallo, stacking their cutting boards and knives at the edge of the table.

“No more onions,” Allison agreed, handing Kira a bottle of water. “I’m going to stink for a week.”

“You’re all done,” Scott confirmed, dropping a kiss on both of their heads, making his way back to the stove-top. He stopped by the blonde girl, who easily deposited a stack of tortillas in his hands, and continued to his assigned job, cooked tortillas resting on a large plate at his side.

“Onions mean you don’t have to do dishes, though,” Lydia pointed out, pulling the bowl full of dough closer to inspect, eyeing the stack of tortillas she and the blonde girl were working on, deliberating on whether they had enough.

“I don’t think Malia would let us if we tried,” Allison joked, smiling as Malia swooped in. She took the stack of dirty dishes Kira had collected, returning to the sick with a bounce in her step, washing them with a vigor unexpected in a teenager.

“Timer,” one of the twins droned, and the other pushed a button on the phone in front of them.

Isaac dropped his spoon like he’d been scalded, turning to Scott and sniffling almost as bad as the girls. “I’m dying.”

“You’re not dying,” Scott said, fondly exasperated. He dropped tortillas onto the griddle, glancing around the room. “Swap with Stiles? And take a break if you need it.”

“Yes!” Stiles dropped his knife with a clatter, bits of lettuce flying as he and Isaac switched positions. “Finally! Save me from lettuce hell.”

“You wanted to do it, Stiles.” The teens laughed, smaller conversations filling the room as they relaxed. The smell of onion and garlic were almost overpowering, but they seemed to be having fun.

Once in a while there would be a question, or something would arise, and like clockwork they would turn to Scott. Scott, who Rafael remembered as a shy little kid, whose tennis coach would insist Rafael needed to help him be more assertive, directing a pack of teens like he’d been doing it his whole life. Even the twins, huge hulking guys -- seriously, they didn’t even look like high schoolers -- deferred to Scott, doing what he asked without complaint.

Occasionally, one of the kids he didn’t know would glance at each other, or sneak a look at Derek, like they were expecting him to challenge Scott, but he seemed more than happy letting a teenager take the lead. It was strange, for several reasons, and Rafael was going to figure it out one way or another.

“What is going on here?” he finally asked, stepping fully into the room.

Instantly the air stilled as several teenagers whipped around to glare at him. A few of them seemed to puff up, metaphorical hackles raised at the intrusion. Derek Hale shot him a particularly unimpressed look, which was slightly more irritating than it should have been.

The silence stretched for a beat before Scott cleared his throat. “Dad?”

The twins and the brown-haired girl by Derek seemed to settle down at that, settling back in their seats, but the others, particularly Isaac, Allison, and Stiles -- of course -- seemed one wrong move away from launching themselves at Rafael. Stiles always looked like that though, so he wasn’t concerned. “Hey, Scott. What are you kids doing?”

Scott looked around, as if barely realizing the menagerie of kids he had crammed into their kitchen. “It’s family taco night?”

“Okay…?” They had family taco nights, back when Rafael wasn’t working long hours and drinking like a fish, but Scott had been young, and enjoyed having dinner together where he could hear all about Rafael’s day at work, and Melissa’s adventures at the hospital. “I didn’t know you still did that.”

“We picked it up again recently.” There was an undercurrent of bitterness in the way he said it, even though he looked at his friends with nothing but fondness. “So…”

“We’re waiting for Mrs.McCall to come home,” the blonde girl added, setting another perfectly round tortilla out in front of her, apparently unconcerned at the intrusion.

“Right.” Rafael eyed the food in various stages of preparedness. “That’s...quite a bit of food for just you and Melissa, Scott.”

The beat of silence stretched longer, every teen turning to look at Scott in askance. Scott, for his part, just looks confused. “No? It’s for all of us.”

“It’s family taco night.” Rafael stressed, eyeing the room. Derek, closest to him, snorted.

“Yeah?” Bemused, Scott looked around again, clearly unable to see the problem.

Rafael raised an eyebrow, staring at the gathered teens. “For family taco night.”

Stiles stepped up, moving in front of Scott and crossing his arms, a shield, however ineffectual it might be. “He said what he said.”

“Last I checked, Stiles, you’re not part of this family.” Rafael saw the flinch, but Stiles didn’t break eye contact, watching as angry red splotches bloomed across his cheeks.

“Excuse you--?” He began, puffing himself up. Malia, still hovering, audibly hissed, and a few of the other kids shifted uncomfortably. Derek Hale snorted under his breath, standing from his position at the door. He didn’t loom, necessarily, but it was clear that Rafael wouldn’t be able to get closer if he didn’t allow it. Or rather, if Scott didn’t allow it.

“They’re more family than you have been.” Scott said evenly over Stiles’ blustering, pulling Stiles back with a frown and waving a hand at the others to relax. Amazingly, the others did, gravitating towards Scott for orders.

The urge to pull the parent card was strong, but Rafael was certain it wouldn’t go over well. Instead, he raised his hands, palms up, hoping to defuse the situation for a second.

“So…” Scott cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. “We’re having family taco night, and uh...friends of family taco night.”

“Allies of family taco night on a probationary period,” Stiles waved at the twins, who shot him equally unimpressed looks.

“Just call it what it is,” the one on the left said.

“It’s pack night.” The other finished, shrugging casually.

Something about the way they said it ran with an undercurrent of something, an insinuation that Rafael wasn’t privy to, a secret carried by half a class of high schoolers. And all of it, somehow, revolving around Scott.

Even as he watched, Isaac and the other teen by him left their stations, almost hovering but not quite, near the other side of the entrance to the kitchen, mirroring Derek and the brown-haired girl. Malia abandoned any pretense of washing dishes, standing right behind Allison and Lydia while the blonde and Kira flanked them. The twins were standing, having slid off the counter in sync, waiting.

“Guys, it’s fine,” Scott murmured, and the tension diffused like the air let out of a balloon. “We just have dinner every once in a while with everyone, it’s fine.”

“Well...I guess can’t argue with that.” Rafael rolled his sleeves up, glancing at the teens. “What do you need help with?”

“You could start by leaving?” Stiles suggested. A couple of the teens snorted, but said nothing. Still waiting for Scott’s call.

“Actually…” Scott glanced around the kitchen, seeming to do a mental count. “We could use some help with the grill outside?”

They groaned in tandem, Stiles rolling his eyes and gesturing wildly at Allison and Lydia like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. The girls snorted, and the blonde shook her head with a sigh.

“I thought Derek was going to grill.” Allison said, scooting her chair closer to Kira.

“No, we couldn’t figure out how the thing worked, remember?” The blonde said, stretching her arms over her head, pressing her flour-coated hands into Isaac and the other boy’s shirts.

“I still think we should just buy a new one.” Derek muttered, deliberately stepping out of the way as Rafael walked into the kitchen proper.

“Derek, you are not buying a new grill, and you’re not gonna buy one for yourself and then gift it to us,” Scott said in a tone that heavily implied it was a common argument they had.

Derek rolled his eyes, clearly exasperated. “Well, it’s getting late, and we’re still not done here.”

A few of the kids nodded, and there were whines and complaints about being hungry and wanting to eat already, familiar in a way Rafael hadn’t heard in a very long time. (Not since Scott was a kid, and he grew out of that fast.)

“Which is why,” Scott raised his voice over the bubbling of conversation starting to pick up. They fell silent as if he’d shouted. “Which is why my dad’s gonna help us out, right? Just show me how to work it, I can handle the rest.”

“I don’t have to leave right away.” Rafael picked his way across the kitchen, nodding at the teens he wasn’t familiar with. “Maybe I’ll stay for a taco or two.”

“We’ll see.” Scott sighed, stepping away from the stove-top. “Cora, could you take over for me, please? And uh… Boyd, if you and Stiles wanna go pick up anything we might still need? My wallet’s on the counter over there.”

“I’m driving!” Stiles scrambled around the kitchen, snatching his keys and Scott’s wallet from the counter. Boyd, apparently, followed after him with an eye roll, long-suffering as he tagged the girl, Cora, taking Scott’s place.

“Actually!” Scott stopped, glancing around the room again. “Erica, can you please go with them and make sure they don’t get into trouble?”

“Sure, Scott, I’d love to help them get into trouble,” the blonde said with a grin, laughing at the look Scott gave her. Shaking his head, Scott picked his way across the kitchen, pushing the doors to the backyard open.

“Quite the pack you’ve got here, Scott,” Rafael said, trailing after his son as they wandered into the cool afternoon. The old grill that used to sit against the back wall of the yard had been dragged over and evidently fussed with before the kids had given up, leaving it abandoned in the middle of the porch.

Scott shrugged, but smiled, glancing over his shoulder back into the kitchen. “Yeah... They’re something, but they’re mine.”

He said it like it actually meant something, like the little group of misfits inside was more than just a bunch of friends -- and some young adults -- that had apparently found their way to Scott. It rankled, the tenderness he seemed to have for them, but Rafael wasn’t stupid enough to expect that level of devotion from his son after so much time apart.

They stood in silence, listening to the telltale rumble of Stiles’ jeep as it peeled away from the curb, laughter starting to trickle outside from within the kitchen. Scott sighed after a moment and rolled his sleeves up, flicking the porch light on before facing the grill.

“Did you come here for something or...?” He asked at length, sounding casually curious, the way one would ask a stranger to make idle chitchat.

“I wanted to see if you wanted to get dinner with me,” Rafael admitted, glancing back at the kitchen. Malia had her face pressed to the door, watching them until she realized she’d been caught, jumping and scrambling away back towards the group.

Scott hid a snort with a cough pretty well, flipping the lid of the grill open with a clang. “Yeah uh... Ever since Cora and Erica and Boyd came back we’ve been trying to make time for dinner nights to catch up and make sure everyone’s doing okay. A couple of weeks ago we had dinner with Kira’s parents? Her dad made us bulgogi. And the time before that Derek tried to make butter chicken.”

“And your mom’s fine with that? The...” Rafael jerked his head towards the kitchen, and rolled his eyes when a disapproving sound reached them.

Scott shrugged, obviously trying to hide a smile as he patted the grill. “Not at first? But they’re my friends. We’ve been through a lot together.”

“Including Derek and the bodybuilders sitting on the counter?” Rafael rolled his sleeves up, waving Scott out of the way as he inspected the grill. It was an old piece of junk, but it should still serve it’s purpose once they gave it a wipe down.

“They’re trying. The twins, I mean.” Scott used his sleeve to wipe some of the dust off the grill, scrunching his face. “We’re working on it.”

“I know there’s something you’re not telling me.” Rafael watched Scott glance up, and if he didn’t know any better, he’d say the porch light reflected in his eyes. Then Scott tilted his head and smiled, soft and a little sad.

“Yeah, well...” He shrugged. “Maybe there’ll be a time when you get to join in too.”

It was as much a rejection as it was an invitation; a clear ‘you’re not in with the group, you don’t get to know, but you could, some day’. “If I work on it?”

“Yeah.” And this time, Scott’s smile is a little more sincere. “If you work on it.”

#teen wolf #scott mccall #mccall pack #twfics #rafael mccall #scottmccallweek #i didn't mean to skip day 3 but its been hard #idk if rafa counts as an outsider but ITS DONE #edit 7.14 - added more and wrapped up what i meant to say this time!

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babeyvenus · 3 years

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The Wolf Among Us

Bigby x OC

Summary: Sonya Blaze, A.K.A. Hell Rider, is a half fable, half mundy girl who comes to Fabletown to learn more about her side of the folktales. She works alongside Sheriff Bigby Wolf as his newest partner and together they strive to find out who's behind the unexpected murders in Fabletown.

TW: Mentions of death, gore/blood, alcohol, smoking, drugs, sex implications, suicide, guns and ofc language.

A/N: just a little filler for now.

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Chapter 19: Off Day

As they arrived, Bigby looked around, taking in the new sights. He hadn't been on this side of New York, considering he never bothered to interact with the mundane side of the city.

Sonya parked and took off her helmet, sighing as she looked up at her previous home. "Home sweet home...", she muttered as Bigby got off and dug into his pocket. "You need some time with that?", she asked teasingly.

He gave her an unamused look and lit his Huff n' Puff. He took a long drag, enough for big puffs of smoke to exit his nose before he drops the cigarette and smushes it under his foot. "Let's go.", Sonya says and leads him up to the house.

She pulled out the keys and opened the door, looking around to see a living room and smiled widely. "Pico!" She grins at the sight of a light orange fluff whose head pops up in attention.

Bigby looked over her shoulder to see a Shiba inu running toward her. Sonya kneels down and picks the excited dog up, whining and barking happily.

She set her bag on the couch and sat on the floor with the dog, Bigby followed behind and stood awkwardly in the middle of the living room. "You can sit down, y'know...", she says, making him scratch his head and sit down next to her on the couch.

Pico looks over at Bigby and growls lowly. Bigby frowns. "Easy, boy.", Sonya warns. Bigby snapped his attention to her. "I hope you're not talking to me."

Sonya chuckles and shakes her head as she pets Pico. He looks up to hear something walking downstairs and runs over to the sound.

They looked up to see a shorter woman who sleepily walked down the stairs and looked at them in surprise. She looked like Sonya, or rather a slightly older version of her. Her skin was a bit darker than Sonya's, her eyes almost a dark honey color. They seemed to light up when they caught onto Sonya's smile.

"Hi, ma.", Sonya greets, getting up. The older woman rushed to her daughter, bringing her in a tight hug. Sonya hugs her back, swaying back and forth before her mom cups her face to examine her. "Where have you been? You're a mess!"

She glanced at Bigby. "Who's he?" Sonya looked at Bigby with a smile before looking back at her mom. "Mama, you remember the place Dad kept talking about?", she asked. Her mom nodded. "Well, this is Bigby Wolf. He's practically the protector of Fabletown. and he's my... boss."

Bigby stood to shake her hand. "It's nice to meet you." Her mom smiled. "You too, I'm Theresa. I hope she hasn't been giving you any trouble."

He rubbed behind his neck. "It's actually the opposite…" Sonya rolled her eyes. "We've been through a lot."

Theresa frowns at her. "Is that why you couldn't update me on anything?" Sonya nods. She glances at Bigby, "Can I tell her?" Bigby thought for a moment before sighing. "I don't see why not. She already knows about us."

"You can tell me after we do something with this head of yours. I can't believe you let it get this bad!", Theresa complained, giving Sonya's arm a slap. Sonya frowns. "I haven't exactly had time to groom myself, Ma."

Bigby waited as Sonya was pulled away to get her hair washed. He looked at the dog who stared back at him. Be rolled his eyes but raised an eyebrow as the dog walked over to him and sat by his feet.

Bigby looked to his left to see a photo set on top of a lamp table beside the couch. He examined it to see a younger version of Sonya, Theresa and a man and a baby he didn't know. He assumed the man had to be her dad. "She looks so happy...", he muttered.

His attention snapped to his right as he saw Sonya walk out of the kitchen with a towel draped over head. She pulled the towel off to reveal her shorter, wet, coiled hair, some curls stuck to her face, some dripped onto the towel.

She gave him a sleepy look as he looked back at her in curiosity. "Did you cut it?", he asked. She looked at him with confused eyes and shook her head. "Of course not. Water just makes my hair shorter.", she says, picking Pico up and sat down by Bigby's feet. She pulled Pico into her lap and rubbed his back and his head.

Theresa comes into the living room with a small container of grease and a blow-dryer. Sonya glanced at Bigby. "If you can't take the noise, you might wanna cover your ears."

Theresa looks at him. "You have sensitive ears?", she asked. "You could say that.", he replies. "You still haven't caught onto what fable he is, Ma?", Sonya asks.

Theresa thought about it for a moment, and shook her head. "I'm not sure." Sonya chuckles. "It's in his name."

Theresa looks at Bigby for a moment before her eyes widen in realization. "You're the big bad wolf??"

He nodded, rubbing behind his neck again. "I wouldn't have thought so. I thought you would've looked a little more... hairy.", she says. "And maybe a little meaner."

He smiled awkwardly. "Yeah...I'm trying my best not to be as monstrous as I was before."

"They made him sheriff but still treat him like trash.", Sonya deadpans. Theresa frowns, while she starts to apply the grease to her daughter's head. "Sometimes people don't wanna see the change in someone because they're so stuck in the past. The best thing you can do is move on.", Theresa says.

Sonya nods in agreement. "I gave up trying to be everyone's friend. Realized not everyone deserved my kindness and just stuck with whoever accepted me for who I was rather than someone I wasn't."

Bigby took in their words and frowned a bit. He hated that they were right. He did care about what other fables thought of him, simply because he was trying to change.

It didn't help much that they kept bringing up his past in the Homelands. It wasn't fair. But he supposed he didn't deserve a better life like everyone else. No one else went around eating pigs and grandmas.

Sonya noticed his silence and tapped his foot in reassurance. RIght after, Theresa started blowing out Sonya’s hair, the sound making Pico rush up and run to his bed and Bigby wince a bit before he started to get used to it.

Moments later, Sonya started to fall asleep and Bigby took note of that. He didn’t understand how she could fall asleep with something so loud in her ears. “I don’t know what you guys went through, but y’all must’ve been working hard.”, Theresa says.

“We did solve two murders…”, he says, making her turn to him in shock. “What happened?”, she asked. He explained what happened, gently informing her about her daughter being targeted as she silently listened and did her daughter’s hair.

“She protected me… a lot more than I can say anyone has done… She’s got guts.”, he says. Theresa finally finishes, now aware of Sonya’s soft snores. “She gets her impulsiveness from her daddy. I think that’s why she got her powers. She just accepted without thinking. Expected me to just be okay with that.”

Bigby glanced at Sonya’s sleeping state. “When she rushed in to save me...she told me she panicked. She didn’t have to, but she did. I’m grateful.”

Theresa gave him a smile. “She does that a lot. Always has to play the hero. I kinda expected that out of her brother but I think he admires her for that. He didn’t get to know his dad very much… so she stepped in.”

‘That’s why she said that about T.J….’, he thought. “I think she did a good job.”, he says. Theresa appreciated him. “Me too. She took on the role all by herself. She knew nothing about being a boy, but helped him whenever I couldn’t. Sometimes I hated it and I felt helpless that she seemed so independent at such a young age.”, she frowned softly. “It hurt. Made me feel like I wasn’t doing a good job as a mother. But she always reminded me that it wasn’t my fault.”

“She does her best at everything. She can be lazy but if its something really important, especially as important as what y’all went through, she won’t stop. She’ll overwork herself until she passes out.”, she says, looking at him. He nods. “I kept telling her she could take a break. She only took a nap when we were almost close to finishing up, we just got some food last night too.”, he confessed.

Theresa sighed. “I hate that she does that. She’s gonna die quicker if she doesn’t take better care of herself.”, she says, fluffing Sonya's hair. She smiles. “She hasn't been taking care of her hair, but it got longer…”, she mutters.

She frowns again. “She’s probably gonna be out for a while.”, she turns to him. “If you can get her up to her room, that’d be helpful. I’ll cook y’all some food while y’all are here.”, she smiles. “I haven’t had to cook that much in a while.”

He nods as Theresa gets up to go wash her hands and starts on food.

Bigby leans down a bit to gently shake Sonya awake. She mumbles, frowning in her sleep and relaxes her face. He shakes her again, getting no response. He sighs and picks her up, with Pico following behind him as he carries her up the stairs and is met with a divided hallway.

There was one room on the left of the hallway that had easy access to the stairs, and another door to the farther part of the hallway.

He went to the right side of the hallway and noticed a hanging nametag on a door that had Sonya's name and he walked up to it.

He entered the room, his nose being hit with her potent scent. He was almost sure if she went missing, he could find her.

He looked around her room to see a XL twin bed covered in black and gray sheets. She had a purple rug under her bed that seemed untouched and fluffed. An empty desk with just a monitor on top and a black desk chair, and a purple dresser that blocked her window and seemed to be a bit dusty.

He saw a full body mirror that had small polaroids taped onto it, and his curiosity spiked. He looked around at some posters she had on the walls, snorting at some of them before he gently laid her down. Pico struggles to get into her bed before he finally does and snuggles up to her.

Bigby smiled a bit and continued to look around her room and sits down in the chair. He squeaked a bit from under his weight as he leaned back a bit. It was a lot more comfortable than his rustic, ratty chair back in his office. He almost considered taking it.

He closed his eyes for a moment before sighing and getting up to leave her room. He walked back down the stairs and into the kitchen where he smelled seasoned meat. He looked over at Theresa as she smiles at him. "She still asleep?"

He nodded. "Is it okay if I step out for a bit?" She nodded, saving her hand in his dismissal. He left the kitchen and left the house to pull out a Huff 'n Puff, lighting it immediately. He took a long drag of the cigarette, sighing out softly and letting out a large puff of smoke.

As he leaned against a lamp post, he almost contemplated his own mother. Theresa seemed so kind, it almost made him wary of her regardless of her knowing about fables. But her daughter's a half fable and the way she talks about her and treated him more like a person rather than a monster…

He considered letting his guard down, just a bit. He finished the cigarette, stomping it out before he walked back inside. The smell of the previous meat entered his nose dully. It smelled good, though.

He walked back into the kitchen, peeking his head around the corner and saw Theresa loading barbeque brisket into a bun. His stomach rumbled loudly, making Theresa jump a bit as she turned to him, placing a hand on her chest as she laughed.

"You scared the shit out of me.", she says, gathering her composure. "Was that your stomach?"

He nodded, scratching behind his head in slight embarrassment. "Well, luckily for you, the food's finished.", she says, smiling.

She handed him a plate and had him sit down at a table. He softly blew onto the food before taking a bite. When he took the first bite, he nearly gulped the rest, making Theresa grin. "Glad to know it was good.", she says.

She took his plate before handing him another one and smiled at Sonya walking into the kitchen, yawning. "That was quick.", Theresa says.

Sonya grumbles. "Pico wouldn't stop kicking me." She saw Bigby eating and smiled. "Finally got you some food, huh?"

She walked over to get herself some food and hummed in delight once she took a bite. After they'd finished eating, they talked for a while until noon arrived.

Sonya and Bigby stood up. "We gotta go before the princess bites our heads off for being gone too long.", Sonya says, rolling her eyes and giving her mom a hug. "Try to keep in touch, please.", Theresa says. Sonya nods and leads Bigby to the door. Sonya exits just in time to see school buses dropping off kids.

Bigby starts to follow her but is stopped by Theresa. "Please look after her.", she asks. Bigby gives her a reassuring nod before leaving. He closed the door and looked to see Sonya hugging a boy about the same height as her.

He walked over to them, catching the boy's attention. The boy frowns a bit. "Who's he?" Bigby almost snorted in amusement at his attempt at being intimidating.

Sonya turns to Bigby, “This is my brother, Eric. Eric, this is Bigby, my boss.” Eric looks Bigby up and down. “He better be.” Bigby raises an eyebrow with a soft chuckle. Sonya gives Eric’s arm a slap. “Cut it out.”

Sonya sighs, looking at Bigby. “Let’s go.” He nods, following her to her bike. She starts it up and looks at her little brother. “Stay out of trouble.”, she says, making him nod before she rides off with Bigby.

The Woodlands

She parks outside the gate, letting him off. He looks at her in confusion. “You’re not coming?” She shook her head. “Nope.” He crosses his arms. “Why not?”, he asks. “Ask your Deputy Mayor.”, she says, bluntly before driving off, leaving him in confusion.

“What does Snow have to do with…”, he muttered before walking into the apartments and made his way to the Business office, seeing the previous line had been gone. He walked into the Business Office and walked up to Snow.

“Mr. Wolf, what’s wrong?”, Snow asked. “Sonya’s not coming into work. I’d say that’d be fine, considering the circumstance, but somehow you have something to do with why she isn’t coming into work.”, Bigby says, making her pause. He raised an eyebrow. “Why is that?”, he asked.

She smoothed her hair, taking a curled strand of hair behind her hair. “Well, the case is done. I told her she can take some time off until there’s a new case.” Bigby’s eyes narrowed a bit before he nodded. “I guess that’ll be for a while… I suppose that’s fine.”, he says, and shakes his head at Bufkin drinking a tall bottle of wine.

“Do you ever get tired of drinking a whole bottle?”, Bigby asks. Bufkin drunkardly smiles. “Nope!” Bigby sighs a huff through his nose before walking to the mirror. “Hey, mirror.”

The green face appears, looking at the man stoically. “Hello, Bigby.” Bigby scratches at his stubble. “I gotta know where Sonya’s going. Can you show me her?”

The Mirror hums. “You know our rule.” Bigby rolls his eyes. “We ate, talked and parted ways, now can you, please, show me Sonya Blaze?”, he rhymed.

The mirror shows Sonya entering an electronic store he’s never seen. Bigby frowns, looking closely at the store name. “Best buy…?”, he mutters. “Where’s this at?”

The mirror hums, coming back. “5th avenue.” Bigby sighs. “Okay.”, he says and walks away. He walked out of the Business Office to walk into his own, and closed the door. He walked over to his desk, plopping down in his chair and grumbles at the paperwork that waited for his return.

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funkin-merc · 3 years

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@songlost

Sad eyes and pitied looks. Distant figures darkened his bedroom doorway. Unspoken words hung in the air like flies. He wished he could swat them away. They didn't know how to help. Pico couldn't fault them for that. He didn't either.

It had been a while since the fabricated obituary posted. Pico was ‘dead’. Darnell and Nene texted or called nearly everyday, hoping he'd answer and tell them it was a sick prank. It wasn't. He couldn't let them know. This was all for them. Mercs didn't have friends. Especially when they were as rotten as him.

Pico refused to get out of bed right after. Only moving when he had to. No appetite. Ignoring his (found family) crew when they came to check on him. He waited for the moment where he’d magically stop feeling so he could move on with the next chapter or his life. It was either that or atrophy away.

"Pico. Ya gotta get up and do something. Anything. You won't get outta this funk until you get outta bed." Concern raised from the edge of his room.

A middle-finger raised sky-high was his answer. Enough to get them to leave. He laid there, coiled in his plaid cocoon, ready to stay until his metamorphosis into the carefree, stone cold killer he knew he was. Heavy lungs filled with a relucant intake of oxygen. When would the callouses cover his heart? Any minute now. C'mon. Please.

Tired eyes peeked out from his blankets. The world felt as if it'd come to an end but ... nothing outwardly changed, it was his same old room. Untouched. Memories ghosted every corner like LCD burn-in. His gaze settled on the console only a few steps away. You can't move on until you let yourself. Maybe he needed to distract his brain until he forgot how to ache.

Pico stretched out to turn it on. Just a little further. Fingers grazed the plastic case, centimeters away from the power button. Gravity took the opportunity to grab his shoulders and yank.

THUMP

Ugh. The ginger sat up, frustrated, and struggled to get out of the blanket he’d accepted as the mummification wraps for his soon to be tomb. Unfortunate that Egyptians believed the soul resided in the heart and didn’t remove it. He wanted it gone. His brain and other organs had definitely been pulled and jarred. His skull felt empty and he felt hollow inside. The only thing reminding him he was even alive was the dull, repetitive throb in his chest.

Once free, he switched the console on, snatched the controller, and fell back against the frame of his bed with a huff.

Wait a fucking second. Pixelated cherry blossoms greeted his scowl. This wasnt — Nene. She did this. That thought surged a sibling-esque annoyance before melting into sad remembrance. Well, there was no changing the game now. It was a stupid reason, he wasnt bound to it, but it was something Nene had done. That comforted a little. Like she wasn’t gone of his own choice.

She swapped his go-to FPS for some game he bought from a bargain bin. Pico sat on the title screen for a while, mindlessly watching the looping Sakura petals dance in artificial wind and drown him in pastels. It reminded him of her. With a sigh, he pressed A and started a new game.

[ ENTER NAME. ]

A small smirk. The first thing closest to a smile on his face in a long time.

> NARUTO SEPHIROTH

A strong, cultural Japanese name for this anime-esque game. Yep, he’s really feeling like a true protagonist now

[ ARE YOU SURE? ]

> YES

#🔫 ic.#senpai (songlost)#(i need a tag for them…)

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chrisfields55 · 7 years

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#tarfree #vapingworks #nevergiveup #tootlyfe #vapebekasi #handcheck #eliquid #coil #rx300 #vapeworld #vapefamily #vapefamous #vapetricks #vapesociety #vapestagram #vapedaily #vapeporn #vapenation #vapelifestyle #vapelove #vapeon #vapehooligans #mizone #pico #vaporessorevenger #duakelinci #xiaomi #redmi #samsung #vapeonvapestrong

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ucflibrary · 5 years

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November in the United States is Native American Heritage Month, also referred to as American Indian and Alaska Native Heritage Month. It celebrates the rich history and diversity of America’s native peoples and educates the public about historical and current challenges they face. Native American Heritage Month was first declared by presidential proclamation in 1990 which urged the United States to learn more about their first nations.

Join the UCF Libraries as we celebrate diverse voices and subjects with these suggestions. Click on the Keep Reading link below to see the full list, descriptions, and catalog links for the featured Native American Heritage titles suggested by UCF Library employees. These 16 books plus many more are also on display on the 2nd (main) floor of the John C. Hitt Library next to the bank of two elevators.

An American Sunrise by Joy Harjo In the early 1800s, the Mvskoke people were forcibly removed from their original lands east of the Mississippi to Indian Territory, which is now part of Oklahoma. Two hundred years later, Joy Harjo returns to her family’s lands and opens a dialogue with history. In An American Sunrise, Harjo finds blessings in the abundance of her homeland and confronts the site where her people, and other indigenous families, essentially disappeared. From her memory of her mother’s death, to her beginnings in the native rights movement, to the fresh road with her beloved, Harjo’s personal life intertwines with tribal histories to create a space for renewed beginnings. Her poems sing of beauty and survival, illuminating a spirituality that connects her to her ancestors and thrums with the quiet anger of living in the ruins of injustice. Suggested by Sara Duff, Acquisitions & Collections

Bird Songs Don't Lie: writings from the rez by Gordon Lee Johnson In this deeply moving collection of short stories and essays, Gordon Lee Johnson (Cupeño/Cahuilla) cements his voice not only as a wry commentator on American Indian reservation life but also as a master of fiction writing. In Johnson's stories, all of which are set on the fictional San Ignacio reservation in Southern California, we meet unforgettable characters like Plato Pena, the Stanford-bound geek who reads Kahlil Gibran during intertribal softball games; hardboiled investigator Roddy Foo; and Etta, whose motto is “early to bed, early to rise, work like hell, and advertise,” as they face down circumstances by turns ordinary and devastating. From the noir-tinged mystery of “Unholy Wine” to the gripping intensity of “Tukwut,” Johnson effortlessly switches genre, perspective, and tense, vividly evoking people and places that are fictional but profoundly true to life. Suggested by Megan Haught, Research & Information Services/Teaching & Engagement

Coming Down from Above: prophecy, resistance, and renewal in Native American religions by Lee Irwin An introduction to an important strand within the rich tapestry of Native religions, this shows the remarkable responsiveness of those beliefs to historical events. It is an unprecedented, encyclopedic sourcebook for anyone interested in the roots of Native theology. From the highly assimilated ideas of the Puget Sound Shakers to such resistance movements as that of the Shawnee Prophet, Irwin tells how the integration of non-Native beliefs with prophetic teachings gave rise to diverse ethnotheologies with unique features. He surveys the beliefs and practices of the nation to which each prophet belonged, then describes his or her life and teachings, the codification of those teachings, and the impact they had on both the community and the history of Native religions. Key hard-to-find primary texts are included in an appendix. Suggested by Sandy Avila, Research & Information Services

Fools Crow by Thomas E. Mails; assisted by Dallas Chief Eagle Set in Montana shortly after the Civil War, this novel tells of White Man's Dog (later known as Fools Crow so called after he killed the chief of the Crows during a raid), a young Blackfeet Indian on the verge of manhood, and his band, known as the Lone Eaters. The invasion of white society threatens to change their traditional way of life, and they must choose to fight or assimilate. Suggested by Mary Lee Gladding, Circulation

Four Souls: a novel by Louise Erdrich After taking her mother’s name, Four Souls, for strength, the strange and compelling Fleur Pillager walks from her Ojibwe reservation to the cities of Minneapolis and Saint Paul. She is seeking restitution from and revenge on the lumber baron who has stripped her tribe’s land. But revenge is never simple, and her intentions are complicated by her dangerous compassion for the man who wronged her. Suggested by Jada Reyes, UCF Libraries Student Ambassador

House Made of Dawn by N. Scott Momaday He was a young American Indian named Abel, and he lived in two worlds. One was that of his father, wedding him to the rhythm of the seasons, the harsh beauty of the land, the ecstasy of the drug called peyote. The other was the world of the twentieth century, goading him into a compulsive cycle of sexual exploits, dissipation, and disgust. Home from a foreign war, he was a man being torn apart, a man descending into hell. Suggested by Mary Lee Gladding, Circulation

Keepers of the Morning Star: an anthology of native women's theater edited by Jaye T. Darby and Stephanie Fitzgerald This is the first major anthology of Native women's contemporary theater bringing together works from established and new playwrights. This collection, representing a rich diversity of Native communities, showcases the exciting range of Native women's theater today from the dynamic fusion of storytelling, ceremony, music and dance to the bold experimentation of poetic stream of consciousness and Native agitprop. Suggested by Rich Gause, Research & Information Services

Native Southerners: indigenous history from origins to removal by Gregory D. Smithers Long before the indigenous people of southeastern North America first encountered Europeans and Africans, they established communities with clear social and political hierarchies and rich cultural traditions. Award-winning historian Gregory D. Smithers brings this world to life in Native Southerners, a sweeping narrative of American Indian history in the Southeast from the time before European colonialism to the Trail of Tears and beyond. Suggested by Megan Haught, Research & Information Services/Teaching & Engagement

Nature Poem by Tommy Pico This work follows Teebs―a young, queer, American Indian (or NDN) poet―who can’t bring himself to write a nature poem. For the reservation-born, urban-dwelling hipster, the exercise feels stereotypical, reductive, and boring. He hates nature. He prefers city lights to the night sky. He’d slap a tree across the face. He’d rather write a mountain of hashtag punchlines about death and give head in a pizza-parlor bathroom; he’d rather write odes to Aretha Franklin and Hole. While he’s adamant―bratty, even―about his distaste for the word “natural,” over the course of the book we see him confronting the assimilationist, historical, colonial-white ideas that collude NDN people with nature. The closer his people were identified with the “natural world,” he figures, the easier it was to mow them down like the underbrush. But Teebs gradually learns how to interpret constellations through his own lens, along with human nature, sexuality, language, music, and Twitter. Even while he reckons with manifest destiny and genocide and centuries of disenfranchisement, he learns how to have faith in his own voice. Suggested by Sara Duff, Acquisitions & Collections

On the Rez by Ian Frazier This is a sharp, unflinching account of the modern-day American Indian experience, especially that of the Oglala Sioux, who now live on the Pine Ridge Indian Reservation in the plains and badlands of the American West. Crazy Horse, perhaps the greatest Indian war leader of the 1800s, and Black Elk, the holy man whose teachings achieved worldwide renown, were Oglala; in these typically perceptive pages, Frazier seeks out their descendants on Pine Ridge―a/k/a "the rez"―which is one of the poorest places in America today. Suggested by Larry Cooperman, Research & Information Services

Shapes of Native Nonfiction by Elissa Washuta Just as a basket's purpose determines its materials, weave, and shape, so too is the purpose of the essay related to its material, weave, and shape. Editors Elissa Washuta and Theresa Warburton ground this anthology of essays by Native writers in the formal art of basket weaving. Using weaving techniques such as coiling and plaiting as organizing themes, the editors have curated an exciting collection of imaginative, world-making lyric essays by twenty-seven contemporary Native writers from tribal nations across Turtle Island into a well-crafted basket. Suggested by Sara Duff, Acquisitions & Collections

Surviving Genocide: native nations and the United States from the American Revolution to bleeding Kansas by Jeffrey Ostler An authoritative contribution to the history of the United States’ violent path toward building a continental empire, this ambitious and well-researched book deepens our understanding of the seizure of Indigenous lands, including the use of treaties to create the appearance of Native consent to dispossession. Ostler also documents the resilience of Native people, showing how they survived genocide by creating alliances, defending their towns, and rebuilding their communities. Suggested by Megan Haught, Research & Information Services/Teaching & Engagement

The Man to Send Rain Clouds: contemporary stories by American Indians edited by Kenneth Rosen Over a two-year period, Kenneth Rosen traveled from town to town, pueblo to pueblo, to uncover the stories contained in this volume. All reveal the preoccupations of contemporary American Indians. Not surprisingly, many of the stories are infused with the bitterness of a people and a culture long repressed. Several deal with violence and the effort to escape from the pervasive, and so often destructive, white influence and system. In most, the enduring strength of the Indian past is very much in evidence, evoked as a kind of counterpoint to the repression and aimlessness that have marked, and still mark today, the lives of so many American Indians. Suggested by Rich Gause, Research & Information Services

The Marrow Thieves by Cherie Dimaline

Humanity has nearly destroyed its world through global warming, but now an even greater evil lurks. The indigenous people of North America are being hunted and harvested for their bone marrow, which carries the key to recovering something the rest of the population has lost: the ability to dream. In this dark world, Frenchie and his companions struggle to survive as they make their way up north to the old lands. For now, survival means staying hidden … but what they don’t know is that one of them holds the secret to defeating the marrow thieves.

Suggested by Mary Lee Gladding, Circulation

Thunder in the Mountains: Chief Joseph, Oliver Otis Howard, and the Nez Perce War by Daniel J. Sharfstein Recreating the Nez Perce War through the voices of its survivors, Daniel J. Sharfstein’s visionary history of the West casts Howard’s turn away from civil rights alongside the nation’s rejection of racial equality and embrace of empire. The conflict becomes a pivotal struggle over who gets to claim the American dream: a battle of ideas about the meaning of freedom and equality, the mechanics of American power, and the limits of what the government can and should do for its people. The war that Howard and Joseph fought is one that Americans continue to fight today. Suggested by Sandy Avila, Research & Information Services

Where the Dead Sit Talking by Brandon Hobson With his single mother in jail, Sequoyah, a fifteen-year-old Cherokee boy, is placed in foster care with the Troutt family. Literally and figuratively scarred by his mother’s years of substance abuse, Sequoyah keeps mostly to himself, living with his emotions pressed deep below the surface. At least until he meets seventeen-year-old Rosemary, a troubled artist who also lives with the family. Sequoyah and Rosemary bond over their shared Native American background and tumultuous paths through the foster care system, but as Sequoyah’s feelings toward Rosemary deepen, the precariousness of their lives and the scars of their pasts threaten to undo them both. Suggested by Rich Gause, Research & Information Services

#featured bookshelf #ucflibrary #native americans #native american heritage month #booklr #reading #tbr

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masquerade-story · 3 years

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Chapter 3 - Changes

Rayne pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to suppress the headache lingering behind her eyes. Being awoken by Crystal having one of the worst seizures she'd had in years was stressful enough, but the strange unexplainable nonsense going on was a whole new level of headache.

"Who can I even blame for this?" Rayne muttered, rebelliously stabbing at the cheesy eggs and chorizo frying in the skillet. "Grey wanted us to stay in a haunted house and picked this one, but the rest of us agreed to it, and it's not like Grey could have possibly even suspected ridiculousness like this to happen! I thought there'd be some weird cult kidnapping shenanigans going on so I slept on the bed near the door to catch intruders and instead of shifty robed intruders we get an impenetrable fog and an enormous snakey voidbeast that definitely doesn't exist anywhere on Earth!"

"Do you have any idea what Crystal was talking about?" Lillian asked, flipping over a tortilla on the griddle. "She was more incoherent than usual, but it seemed like she knew what it was."

"She was having a damned seizure, I bet she barely even knew who we were!" Rayne snapped, then sighed with sagging shoulders. "Sorry, Lils. I just... I don't like not knowing what's going on. I know she said she felt like things were going to change, but this... This is a bit too much change, isn't it?!"

"None of us are good with big changes," Lillian nodded her agreement, completely unbothered by the brief outburst, much to Rayne's relief. Being mean to Lillian felt like being mean to a starved, abandoned puppy in the rain. "We got popular pretty fast, and we all panicked, remember? We were scared by so much attention. You and Grey handled the public relations for a bit since you have retail experience and excellent poker faces. Me and Crystal had to hide behind you and breathe into little paper bags."

"It wasn't that bad."

"It was absolutely that bad. Our first video addressing all our new fans? It's hilarious, we look so nervous and panicked. Crystal was frozen and pale, and I was shaking so bad my face was blurred! And it got us even more fans somehow?"

"Pity, probably."

"Probably. That spooked us even more though! We wanted to make music and we wanted people to like it, but I don't think any of us were ready for the amount of attention we got. It took ages to adjust!"

"Yeah, but Lils... That's all... That's different. It's just... That's normal life stuff, you know? We got lucky, but it happens. People get lucky like that sometimes. People go viral every day for different things. But this?" Rayne turned, gesturing with her spatula in the vague direction of the nearest curtained window.

Before they started cooking, Lillian went around shutting the curtains for every window in the house, just in case. She glanced over her shoulder nervously in the direction Rayne was gesturing, then turned her attention back to assembling scrambled cheesy eggs, hash browns, chorizo, black olives, grilled onions, mango salsa and sour cream into delicious burritos she tossed back into the pan to grill shut, then topped with fresh pico de gallo once they were back on a plate. Lillian was the only one who knew the perfect balance between a fully stuffed burrito bursting at the seams, and a burrito that could still be closed and eaten with some semblance of civility.

"Life is stranger than fiction," Lillian muttered, deftly flipping three burritos into the greased pan. "People always say that, don't they?"

"Yeah well, we've reached downright fantasy at this point. I signed up for a haunted house, not whatever this shit is!"

"Maybe this is just what happens to people who go missing in haunted houses?"

"I-" Rayne opened her mouth to protest, then closed it again when she couldn't think of a counter argument. She heaved a sigh, turning off the stove burner once the last of the chorizo and eggs were finished cooking. "You're right. We should just wait for Crystal to hopefully explain something, then we can figure out the rest together. One step at a time, like always."

Rayne refused to think about anything in particular while she wrapped up a plate of burritos in foil, setting it aside in the stove for Crystal to eat once she woke up. Grey made his way downstairs shortly after everything was finished cooking, snagging a plate for himself and choosing to eat on the porch, staring intently out at the creepy fog. Lillian went out to keep him company, but Rayne chose to eat quietly in the dining room, staring at the pretty floral design around the outer edge of the plate.

Every time her thoughts dragged in the wrong direction, she forced herself to think about song lyrics, or melody composition, or clicked out different metronome timings with her tongue against her teeth.

Worrying and freaking out wouldn't help anyone, so why wouldn't her hands stop shaking?

Though she took her time eating, Crystal still hadn't descended the stairs by the time Rayne finished breakfast and washed her plate. She tossed dirtied cookware into the sink for Grey to wash later, then hurried up the stairs to check on her sister.

To her surprise, Crystal was sitting up in bed, staring out the window with a vacant expression. Winding tear tracks left shimmering lines on her pale face, causing Rayne's heart to skip a beat.

"Coco? Are you okay?" Rayne asked softly, sitting on the edge of the bed. Her sister took a moment to acknowledge her presence, turning her head with slow, hesitant movements as though doing so was a tremendous effort in itself.

"I... I'll be okay. We'll... be okay. But..." Crystal's voice trembled, a hoarse whisper that caught in her throat. She bit her lip, then forced a pained a smile. "Can you... Bring my food?"

Rayne waited a moment more, but Crystal didn't seem ready to explain. So she sighed, nodded, and went back downstairs to fetch her sister's plate from the oven, and poured her a cup of juice in case she needed a drink.

Crystal always ate slowly after a seizure, and sometimes made faces like the food was unfamiliar in taste or texture, even if it was something she'd eaten dozens of times before. She'd take a bite, wrinkle her nose, look momentarily confused, and spend about thirty seconds slowly chewing one mouthful.

Once she finally finished eating, Crystal slowly slid out of bed, and shuffled downstairs while leaning on the arm Rayne offered for support. Grey and Lillian were still outside, empty plates on their laps, shivering in their pajamas yet unwilling to look away from the fog, and the strange creature diving within it.

"It helps if you don't look directly at it," Grey mumbled as the screen door creaked open, squinting his eyes. "If you try to focus on it, the headache comes back."

Rayne tapped his shoulder to pull his attention away, gesturing back to the house. "C'mon, if we're all gonna sit out here, we should have some blankets."

"Yeah, okay."

They fetched some quilts from the linen closet, brand new blankets provided by the realtor that still smelled like detergent. Everyone bundled up, sinking comfortably into the patio chairs, sitting so close together that all their knees touched.

"How are you feeling?" Lillian asked Crystal, finally tearing her gaze away from the fog for a moment.

"I'm okay," Crystal whispered, staring down at her knees. "I just... We never got to go to the Grand Canyon, you know? We never got to go visit our hometown again. We never got to tour Europe."

"It's not too late to do those things," Rayne pointed out, pulling the blanket close around her shoulders. "Once we sort whatever this is-"

Crystal was shaking her head, and Rayne's voice trailed off when she saw tears welling up in her sister's oddly bright blue eyes.

Grey, Lillian, and Rayne all felt an odd sinking feeling in their chest. They exchanged concerned glances, but no one could find the voice to ask the question weighing on their hearts.

Luckily, she didn't make them wait long. Crystal looked up suddenly, exhaled a shaky breath, and extended one hand from the blanket to point toward the fog. "It's finished."

The sinuous unknowable creature in the fog twitched its many fins and tendrils, bringing all its coils together into one big Gordian knot of inconceivable nonsense. Then the whole thing surged, diving into...

The air?

The ground?

Space?

A point beyond the fog, vanishing into nothingness. Once the last trailing tendril was out of sight, the fog began to gather as well, rushing around the house to follow after the strange creature. Waves of mist, undulating and twisting into deceptively solid-looking shapes that twisted and churned around the house and its property, colors appearing between gaps in the waves filled with shapes and blurry figures that took one's breath away to stare at for too long.

"There's no earthly way of knowing, which direction we are going," Crystal sang softly, as colors and lights flashed through the mist in strange, pulsing patterns.

"There's no knowing where we're rowing, or which way the river's flowing," Grey continued, half-singing and half-laughing incredulously at the whole situation.

"Is it raining? Is it snowing? Is a hurricane a-blowing?" Rayne picked up while an odd shiver traced down her spine.

"More than a speck of light is showing though," Lillian muttered, ending their Willy Wonka reference before it went too far. "So is the danger growing or not?"

"Yes and no," Crystal whispered, pulling her blanket up over her head as a makeshift hood.

After more than half an hour, the last of the fog and lights and strange shapes finally surged forward to disappear into the same mysterious point of space as the unknowable creature.

With their view of the surroundings beyond the property fence no longer obscured, Grey, Lillian, and Rayne all turned as one to stare wordlessly at Crystal, who had a sad, wry smile on her face. As they struggled to find words, a single snowflake drifted down and landed gently on the tip of Rayne's nose.

Grey sneezed, disturbing a flurry of flakes that threatened to land upon his shoulders, and the rest took it as a signal to run inside as fast as their suddenly cold bare feet could carry them.

-----

"What is that?" Rayne asked, pointing toward the largest front-facing living room window which was rapidly being covered by a thick layer of frost.

Crystal, wedged on a sofa seat between Grey and Lillian, stared up at her sister with innocent puppy-dog eyes. "A window? Or the window seat?"

"Don't sass me, young lady!" Rayne groaned, dramatically sweeping back the curtains and gesturing toward the window again. "I meant on the other side! Beyond the fence! What is that nonsense?!"

"Ahaha..." Crystal laughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of her neck. Grey grabbed her arm and pinned it to her side, while Lillian did the same with the other arm.

"No avoiding us, this time! I knew things were getting weird but that's beyond weird, Crystal!" Grey's voice cracked mid-sentence, echoing the panic building in everyone's hearts.

"I only know a little, really!" Crystal muttered, carefully avoiding their heated gazes. "Not much more than you all probably guessed. I know why I had the seizure, and kinda what that creature was doing, though not what it exactly was cuz I don't think it even has a name as we conceive of them..."

"How about you start with what you do know," Lillian said, pointing toward the window to echo Rayne's earlier gesture.

"Like what in the world is THAT!?" Rayne gazed past the frosted glass and rubbed her upper arms, the chill in her body having nothing to do with the sudden drop in temperature, or the snow falling to gently coat their property in a blanket of soft white powder.

Just a day before, they'd hiked through a lovely, dense, deciduous forest thick with life. But what waited on the other side of the fence once the fog cleared was certainly not green North American woodland in the midst of summer. Snow fell gently from the skies, large snowflakes working to bury everything beneath a blanket of white, and the trees...

The trees beyond the property fence were massive, gargantuan even - the smallest had trunks that looked to be at least thirty feet in diameter, labyrinthine crowns of branches reaching toward the snowing clouds, dripping with icicles where foliage was absent. Crystal and Rayne were from the western coast of the US, where they spent plenty of time among redwood trees as children, yet the trees outside were much taller and wider than they'd ever seen.

For the trees still clinging to their foliage despite the bitter cold outside, the leaves visible were dusky shades of blue and purple instead of familiar greens. A roughshod dirt path led away from the forest down a field of gently rolling hills, toward a port town nestled in the basin of a small valley surrounded by mountains on one side and a frigid steely gray ocean on the other, which they could see clearly from the living room thanks to their new location.

Their house and its property looked exactly the same, but it was all situated halfway toward the top of a rocky mountain wedged between the end of the mountain range and the lengthy shoreline. On the section of beach closest to their forest, large white creatures that resembled giant plesiosaurs were laying on rocky outcroppings, heedless of the icy waves splashing their enormous bodies.

A wide stream broken only by a single cobbled bridge was visible from the front porch, winding through the trees and presumably turning into the wide river that eventually bisected the distant town before escaping into a natural harbor. Several ships dotted the horizon, white sails like puffy clouds against the cloudy sky, bobbing to and fro in the choppy waves.

It was definitely not the view they enjoyed before going to bed the night before. The trees alone were alarming, but the creatures on the beach in the distance were what Rayne had pointed one shaky finger at.

"Where the hell are we?" Rayne hissed, but Grey just laughed, a hint of hysteria in his voice.

"Another world, obviously!"

"No shit?!"

"What, you think there's any beaches on Earth that just have plesiosaurs vibing on an arctic beach?" Grey turned to Crystal and waggled his eyebrows to distract from the trembling of his shoulders. "It's another world, right? We're not on Earth, right?"

Crystal laughed, nervously twisting her fingers together. "Aha, yeah, well... You're right. It's not the arctic though, it's just early winter..."

"Can you explain a bit more than that?" Rayne asked, struggling to keep her voice calm while her sister hesitantly nodded.

"Okay, it's just... It's kind of an out there explanation?"

"This is kind of an out there situation, so..."

"That's fair, but... My seizure, see, was... I was having... I got a bunch of information. Just, like, downloaded into my brain I guess, and it's still taking me awhile to sort through some of it."

"And you're sure this information you... Received... Is legit?"

"Sure as I can be about anything right now."

"Valid."

"Bear with me, alright?" Crystal glanced around, waiting for everyone to nod before continuing. "Okay, so... I need you guys to imagine a field of flowers."

"What?" Rayne said, turning away from the window to arch an incredulous eyebrow.

"I said to bear with me! Imagine a field of flowers, and it's the most perfect field for flowers that you can think of. Rich, fertile soil. A clear babbling brook nearby. Warm weather, but not too hot. Lots of butterflies and bees. And little creatures that maybe sometimes nibble a few flowers, but also clear out all the harmful weeds. It's basically flower paradise."

"Alright..."

"Now imagine a huge breeze sweeps through the field, and carries a bunch of seeds far away. They're taken out of the paradise, but manage to set root somewhere really nice. But then once they're grown, then their own seeds are taken by the wind again. Over and over, further and further from that beautiful field... Until one generation ends up on the edge of a desert."

"A desert?"

"The edge of one. Where the soil is semi-arid, the sun is harsh, and even the wind is hot and unforgiving. Rain rarely falls, but somehow these seeds still manage to survive. They plant their roots deep and they endure. It's nowhere close to their ideal environment, but it's all they've ever known. And then one day someone comes along and digs up a few of the plants from the edge of the desert, and takes them to be replanted where the rain is gentle and the soil is rich. It's not the meadow paradise of their ancestors, but it's infinitely better than anything those flowers had ever known."

"So we're the flowers?" Lillian muttered, tapping her chin, and Crystal nodded.

"Yeah. Our ancestors at some point migrated through the Veil to-"

"The what?"

"The Veil. Endless worlds beyond worlds, separated by this thing, this being or deity or construct called the Veil, which I... I don't really understand it, I just know it's important and kinda weird. It keeps the... Worlds? Universes? Planes? All safely separated and compartmentalized. Connected, yet disconnected at the same time."

"Ah, kind of like the Veil in folklore. Avalon, Tir Na nÓg, or Tartarus! Places next to our reality, yet a different space all its own!" Grey muttered excitedly, his eyes sparkling.

"Yeah, exactly."

"Our ancestors moved through this Veil a bunch of times and ended up on Earth?" Rayne scoffed, but considering everything that'd happened that morning, she wasn't ready to entirely laugh it off. "We're aliens? Or fairies? For real?"

"Yes? No. I mean, they were aliens when they moved to Earth? But we were born there so we're Earth native and not aliens. We're still human though, not fairies as we understand them, but... I mean, what we understand humans to be are already pretty weird creatures... Earth humans are very different from humans in other worlds, I think? That's the impression I got from my... Ugh, visions." Crystal cringed, as though the very word felt embarrassing to say aloud. She was always uncomfortable with her ability, since she often questioned her own sanity and the validity of what she saw, so admitting they were genuine supernatural visions with definitive language was something she usually avoided.

Seeing her sister openly acknowledge her own visions made Rayne furrow her brow, but she didn't point it out, and instead voiced a question. "And that creature thing is the one that replanted us... Wherever we are, now?"

"Mmm... Sorta. It lured us to the house because it was a thin point in the Veil, and we just happened to be extra susceptible to its call because of our bloodlines. It was a subconscious pull, the interest we all had in the house, and the... The desire to stay awhile."

"And why did it do that?"

"To eat our bonds."

Rayne grimaced. "Our... What?"

"That... Creature. The Eater. It doesn't eat physical matter, so we weren't in real danger. It eats things that would be intangible from our perspective, and its favorite are bonds. Our ties to Earth. Our connection to that reality, that plane of existence. We, uh... Even if we found a way to cross the Veil again, we... We can never go back to Earth." Crystal braced herself as the other three sharply inhaled through their teeth. Lillian stifled a brief sob, pressing her fingers to her lips, while Grey clenched his hands into fists and pressed them firmly into his shaking knees.

"We can't go home?" Grey whispered. "Like... Ever? For sure?"

Crystal's slow, affirming nod made tears spring to Lillian's eyes, and she covered her face with her hands. "Oh no... Oh no!"

Rayne swore softly under her breath. The weight in her chest had yet to settle. She thought of her boyfriend back home, their slightly rocky but precious relationship, and could tell by the look on his ashen face that Grey was remembering his own lover.

Lillian, meanwhile, clutched one of the sofa's throw pillows to her chest and continued to sob quietly. "Mom... Dad...! They'll be so worried!"

"No, they won't."

The soft whisper had everyone turn to Crystal again, but she avoided their gazes while her own swam behind a curtain of tears. "Crystal," Rayne said, intending to speak softly, only to wince when her sister's name rolled off her tongue like a curse.

"They," Crystal began, wringing her hands together until her knuckles were stark white. "They... Won't remember us. None of them. I told you, our... Our bonds were eaten."

"It ate... Their memories of us!?" Grey snapped, raising his voice for the second time that day. Crystal flinched, but nodded.

Rayne let out a shaky breath, covering her eyes with one hand. "Thank God."

"What!?" Grey snapped, jumping to his feet. "How could you-"

"Thank God!" Lillian echoed, her voice muffled from behind the throw pillow. Grey turned on her, but she kept going. "Thank God they won't realize we're missing. Thank God they won't worry about us, spending the rest of their life wondering where we... Thank goodness!"

Grey visibly deflated, falling back onto the sofa with a soft grunt. "Oh. Yeah, that's... Yeah."

"I'm sorry," Crystal said, tears rolling down her cheeks. She flinched again when Grey draped his arm over her shoulders, and Lillian reached over to hold her hand. "I'm so sorry, I..."

"It's not your fault!" Rayne said, flopping down in the nearest armchair and kicking up the foot rest.

"It might as well be! I could tell change was coming, that it was something weird and something big, and I just..."

"You told us, and we all stayed at the house anyway thanks to... What, the Eater's call? It's not like any of us could see this coming, you know? Going to another world..." Rayne trailed off, her furrowed brow once more raising until her eyebrows threatened to disappear into her hairline. "Wait, if we're in another world... Why does the electricity work?"

Grey and Lillian both froze, then slowly turned their face to look up at the living room light, gently illuminating the room with its glow. Then they all turned to look at Crystal, who rubbed her cheek against Grey's shoulder to wipe off tears since her own nightgown was sleeveless.

"It's an echo."

"Gonna have to give us more than that, Coco."

"The house. It's an echo of the house on Earth. Like a... A metaphysical reflection. The light works because it worked on Earth. The hot tap will make hot water because it's supposed to. The stove will work because it's supposed to. And because it's an echo... Anything viewed as damage will be restored overnight. New plants will grow, we can bring stuff in or add on to the house. But the base line condition will always remain the same."

"No leaky roof? Ever?!" Grey said with more enthusiasm than Rayne could muster for the situation, and Crystal nodded.

"Toilet won't stay clogged more than a day. Nothing will stain. And..." Crystal began, then paused with a strange expression on her face.

"What?" Grey said, leaning against her side. "And what?"

"The food and blankets and toilet paper, everything that was within the fence the instant we opened the front door. It counts as part of the property, so its loss counts as damage. If you want, you can check the fridge. Everything we used for the barbecue last night is back."

"Thank you dear God in Heaven for this bounteous gift of eternal butt paper and free testosterone refills." Grey whispered, holding his hands together in a praying gesture and glancing toward the ceiling while the others laughed. "Wait... Does that mean our phones will never break? All the stuff we carried in our backpacks and the handcart?"

"Yeah. They're part of the house so they'll physically reset every night but it allows for certain conditional changes based on an item's function... We can write on paper in the books or notebooks and it won't be undone overnight, leftovers in a dish won't vanish, stuff like that. So like, new photos can be saved."

"What good does that do?" Lillian grumbled. "Not like we can use them for calling anyone."

"Joke's on you Lils, I've got music and games and books on mine!"

"Mine too."

"Same here. Movies too."

Lillian gaped at everyone, then threw her hands in the air. "I mean, yeah! I do too! But that's not-"

"We gotta be happy for the little things right now Lils," Grey said, flapping the hand still draped around Crystal's shoulders to pat his twin's arm. "Small victories."

"Is there anything else?" Rayne asked reluctantly, almost afraid of hearing the answer. And seeing the look on Crystal's face, she knew she was right to be concerned. "Alright, spill it."

"Um, well... Our powers are real."

"I beg your pardon?"

"They're real." Crystal smiled wryly, knocking her knuckles against the side of her head. "I know we all love and believe in supernatural stuff, but we also sometimes question whether it's really real or us just seeing what we wanna see in a bunch of interconnected coincidences, you know? Or if it's mental illness manifesting in one way or another, you all know my... My feelings on that one, particularly. But uh... No, they're real. My... My visions are real. The way I... Know things is real. And...

"We're not in the metaphysical desert of Earth anymore. This world has the equivalent of decent soil, clean water, favorable weather." Crystal held out her hands, her smile slowly growing into a more genuine grin. "Our powers manifested without any resources to feed them, in an environment almost perfected to suppress supernatural abilities, but this world is different, closer to our ideal environment. How much stronger do you think we'll get now?"

#writing #chapter #original #original story #masquerade #fantasy #isekai

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