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starlessea · 3 years

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𝙎𝙩𝙚𝙥 𝙤𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙂𝙖𝙨 - Chapter 1. Is It A Bird?

A/N Make sure you read the prologue before, or this chapter might not make sense!

Series Masterlist: Step on the Gas

Summary: A dishonourable discharge from the military results in you being hauled off to live with your grandparents in the boonies, otherwise known as the middle of nowhere Georgia. After running over a nail on the road, and pushing your grandpa's vintage Camaro to the nearest auto-shop, you meet Daryl Dixon - the local mechanic. At some point, the world ends, but that stubborn man never gives you a chance to slow down. His smile gives you whiplash, but he still insists that you to step on the gas.

Words: 4869

Chapter Warnings: Language, Injury

You watched the bird fly from behind the clear glass, level with the top floors of the office building.

You followed it the best you could, walking the stretch of the room alongside it. The window was long and wide, filling the wall entirely. This whole section of the building was made of glass, and stood tall against the skyline — so that you could often see the flocks of birds that flew by.

Though, it wasn’t as tall as the ones closer to the inner city.

No, this was more of a dwarfed skyscraper.

You reached the end of the office, and placed your hands up against the cool glass as the bird continued onwards — leaving you behind. Below, the street seemed desolate, just as the sky now did. There wasn’t a single soul lurking down there — but you didn’t trust your eyes in the slightest. Especially not here.

You needed a better view. You needed a bird’s-eye view.

The fire escape steps were rickety, and metal flakes crumbled beneath your feet. They had rusted from the rain, and you tried not to think about how precariously they squeaked as you made your ascent to the roof. You’d done it before, but every time felt worse than the last.

You just couldn’t shake the feeling that they’d cave beneath you — and laugh their squeaky laughs as they sent you plummeting to the ground.

You reached the top, and felt the breeze on your cheek as you scaled the roof courtyard. Up here, everything seemed untouched. It always had done. This high up, people would look like mere ants — harmless, and far enough away that it didn’t matter if they weren’t.

The wind blew, and you stared out towards the building parallel to the corporate one you were currently standing on. It had been a hotel once. But now its roof held something far more valuable than deckchairs and a cocktail bar.

There she was, you smiled, and what a beauty indeed.

It was an army helicopter, sat perfectly still against the horizon — like a bird nesting. It was a camo green, but it didn’t camouflage against the greyish sky in the slightest. Though, it did seem like it belonged there; it was a hawk after all.

A Sikorsky Hawk, to be more specific.

You’d never flown her type before, but she’d been there ever since you first took refuge in the building, like an abandoned bird in an abandoned city. The army had been the first to flee, after all — or the first to die. Either way, the hawk had sat alone for nearly two months, teasing you.

You should have just stayed in Georgia.

It was only meant to be a weekend trip, but somehow you’d gotten stranded in Atlanta during the end of the world. You would have cursed your luck, but then again you were lucky enough to get stuck on the outskirts — only narrowly missing the bombs as they reigned down upon the city.

It was like a meteor shower. Except, instead of falling stars, it had been napalm.

You could remember it perfectly. First the power had gone out, then the water mains dried up, and finally the food whittled down to nothing. You’d hopped from building to building until you came across this corporate graveyard — which had enough supplies to keep you alive for a few weeks. But you should have just left Atlanta whilst you had the chance.

This tower had lulled you in with the promise of safety, but had kept you trapped there ever since.

Walking closer to the roof’s edge, you glanced along the building in the distance. You’d checked it a dozen times now — mapping out all of its exits to try and find a way inside. You had to be prepared. After all, it wasn’t like you could just wait until you got there. Your boot hit the fencing, and you felt the urge to peer over the railing at the alley below.

Don’t look down, you told yourself — but you always did.

A narrow sidestreet separated the office block from the hotel. There was a fence at one end, secured with a thick padlock, whilst the other was open. That would have been fine on its own; except, the biters had all stumbled into the alley as though it were a cattle cage — and couldn’t figure out how to leave once they were there.

Dumb fucks, you thought, watching them pile up against the gate as though it were a concert barrier.

Almost every day, you’d come to see that helicopter — separated by a channel of the undead, their heads bobbing like ripples on the surface of water — and every day you’d turn around and head back down the fire escape.

Your stomach gurgled, and you let out a sigh. The stale lunchroom cereal had recently run empty. You felt for your pistol in your back pocket — the one you’d managed to get a hold of during the initial outbreak.

Six bullets, you counted, before slipping it back into your jeans.

You smiled at the irony.

“Six!” you yelled at the man, placing your card face-up on the bar. “It’s my lucky number.”

Dixon knocked back his whiskey and grimaced as it went down. Joe’s was practically empty by now, but the man lingered about like the aftertaste of your drink — waiting for your shift to end.

“An’ why’s that?” he asked, not looking up from his own hand.

You smiled — the alcohol making you loose-lipped.

“It was your closing time. Six in the evening,” you explained, waiting for him to lay his last card. “But you still fixed up the Camaro anyway.”

Your fingertips rested along the hem of the jacket, feeling the worn leather. The air was stiflingly warm, but you kept it on. After all, it still smelled faintly of the man who’d given it to you.

Like whiskey and gasoline.

Atlanta had gone still and quiet, leaving you to your thoughts as you stood on that rooftop — trying to be brave. Military training was meant to beat that into a person, but maybe you’d gone soft since then. After all, you always preferred to stay above the action than be in the midst of it.

Six bullets, a Hawk, and a cattle grid filled with biters.

You laughed. Everything interesting always seemed to happen on a Tuesday.

Glancing over your shoulder at the bird once more, you tried to ignore the way your stomach dropped and your palms sweat. It was probably from the heat, you tried to tell yourself, but you knew better than that.

“I guess today’s the day,” you said, to no one in particular.

Then, you began to descend that rickety fire escape once again — because what goes up must always come down.

What you hadn’t realised, is that the same could be said for that Sikorsky Hawk, which spat you out of the sky like you didn’t deserve to be there.

When you finally came back around — after drifting in and out of consciousness for what felt like much too long — all you could smell was burning rubber.

That’s not good, you thought, as you blinked your eyes open.

Black smoke hung thick in the air, melding with the orange flames that flickered in the distance and caught the trees.

Those damn trees.

You hissed curses through your teeth as the pain finally kicked into gear — albeit a bit delayed. In your haziness, you’d barely realised how precarious your situation was. Like a puppet on a string, you dangled from the branches of a tall, leafless tree — caught by your parachute wires.

Your breaths were shallow and strained, and you slowly lifted a hand — the one not tangled in the cords — to feel your stomach.

Blood.

It was shrapnel from the crash. It stung like a bitch, and would probably need stitches. Well, it would if you could get down in the first place.

You glanced up at your other arm, eyes stinging from the brightness of the sky.

That doesn’t look right either, you grimaced.

It had gotten caught during the fall, and had twisted at an unnatural angle which only made you wince as you tried to free it. Like a marionette, if you plucked those wires ever so slightly, your whole body flailed.

The radios whirred below you, letting out a continuous note of high-pitched static as they caught alight. It reminded you of the screeching of wheels as they spun over tarmac — or something like that.

But, then you saw a man.

And the man saw you.

At first, you barely recognised him without his oil-stained work clothes — wrench in hand. But at the same time, he seemed to blend in perfectly with this new world. He had a crossbow slung over his back, and a rope of limp squirrels looped around his shoulder. A natural born hunter, indeed.

With numb toes, and blood rushing to your head, you called out to him hoarsely — hoping that he’d spot you perched among the trees.

“Dixon,” you spoke, and winced straight after.

Your voice didn’t even sound like your own.

Still, the man whipped around, and stared straight through you as though he were looking at a ghost.

“How’s it hanging?” you teased, and recognition flashed on his face.

It had taken him a while to cut you down, untwisting your limbs delicately from the cables. But once you were free, he carried you in his arms — like some trophy game from his hunting trip.

Then, he noticed the wound.

The mechanic looked down at you helplessly. He still hadn’t said a single word, but his eyes told you everything you needed to know. They rested on your hands — which were pressed down firmly to stop the bleeding — before trailing back up to your face.

He looked older than you remembered, and more hardened. And he didn’t view you with the same shy curiosity as before — you had noticed.

No. This was sadness.

You brought a hand up from your stomach and touched it to his cheek. He flinched at the contact, but didn’t pull away.

You could swear he even leaned into it.

His mousy stubble tickled your palm, and only then did you realise the bloody fingerprints you’d left behind on his skin. You let your head flop against the man’s chest, your ear pressed to his pounding heartbeat.

“Today really isn’t my day,” you murmured there, and he started walking.

You watched the sky the whole way back.

It looked so different from the sky in Atlanta. There were no hulking skyscrapers blocking it, nor fast food billboards that had begun to peel away. And there were far more birds flying by — the real kind, not any Sikorsky Hawks.

Dixon remained completely silent, except for when he’d occasionally remind you to keep pressure on that wound. He moved quickly, but he seemed lost in thought — lacking the usual bite you remembered.

He also seemed to have lost his words, you thought.

But then you reached a clearing.

You could hear the commotion before you saw it; there was some rustling behind the trees, accompanied by dry shouts and the clanging of metal. You glanced up at the man carrying you for answers, but he didn’t once look down.

Daryl stepped out into the open air, and squinted from the sunlight. You did the same, turning your head into his chest for some cover from it.

“Ya can drop yer weapons,” you heard him say.

Well, more like felt — since the vibrations rumbled against your cheek.

“Unless yer plannin’ on offing me with tha’ shovel,” he snapped.

There he was, you smiled, that was the Dixon you recognised.

You could feel his heart thumping as he spoke, and you had to coax yourself away to take a look at the scene for yourself.

A group of people holding spades, a bashed-in biter, and a mauled deer.

You laughed. Fucking Tuesdays.

Except, the laugh trailed off into a wheeze as the pain started up, and the blood poured.

Daryl quickly kicked into gear with urgency, and brushed off the group as they tried to ask their questions. “Someone best go get Merle off his lazy ass,” he yelled, “tell him his favourite helicopter pilot jus’ crash landed ‘ere.”

Your head snapped up at his words.

Merle Dixon, too? You weren’t sure you could handle them both.

Except, nobody moved to go and retrieve the older brother. Instead, a small asian man stepped forward — removing his baseball cap and wringing it in his hands.

“I can’t believe it,” he announced, eyes locked on you, “helicopter boy was telling the truth!”

You squinted at his words, trying to make sense of them amidst the heatstroke and blood loss.

But, you didn’t have to try for long. A second man stepped out from behind the frontline of people, also parting with his obnoxiously large hat as he did so. Except, this was no baseball cap; this was a damn country midwestern cowboy hat.

The badge in the centre of it caught the light and beamed it back directly into your eyes, making you cower away. The man shucked his hands into his pockets, and only then did you catch sight of him fully — clad in his King County Sheriff’s Department uniform .

Great, you sighed, letting your head flop back over Daryl’s arm. A fucking cop.

Dixon’s jaw clenched, too. You saw it above you — tensing.

“You come from Atlanta?” the officer questioned, “earlier today?”

That caught your attention. He’d been in Atlanta, too?

You definitely hadn’t seen any survivors on the flight over. But then again, it would’ve been nearly impossible to distinguish the dead from the living at that altitude. You swallowed thickly, and nodded.

“What happened to you?” he pressed.

The group’s chatter had died to a silence, and even Daryl seemed to await your answer.

“Engine failed,” you croaked, parched from a lack of water. “Couldn’t control the descent so I had to jump,” you cursed the last part, “too many trees.”

Then, you pinched Daryl’s arm lightly — feeling woozy from the sun. He nodded, and wordlessly stepped over the rotting corpse near his boot.

“You two know each other?” a voice interrupted, “and you just happened to find her?”

You didn’t like this man’s eyes; you hadn’t since you’d first caught a glimpse of them. He had dark, bouffant hair that seemed far too prim for the end of the world, and was wearing light cargo pants.

Then you noticed the dog tags hanging from his neck, and the combat boots which matched what you knew to be police-issued training gear.

Seriously, you thought, another one?

Daryl didn’t seem particularly fond of the guy, either, because he narrowed his eyes at him in the same way he did the biter at his feet. He looked as though he was considering ignoring him completely. And you couldn’t blame him.

It wasn’t like you were bleeding out, or anything.

“Was trackin’ tha’ deer,” he responded, toeing the dead animal with his boot. “Seen the bird go down an’ followed it.”

Daryl readjusted his grip on you, and you groaned from his heavy-handedness. But you didn’t miss his guilty expression.

After all, he probably tried to be gentle.

“An’ there she was, jus’ swingin’ from tha' tree like a big ol' piñata,” he finished — that southern drawl thick on his tongue.

You watched the other man’s jaw shift as though he were chewing on a bee, and spit at the ground like it had stung his mouth.

“You’re telling me that she crashed a damn helicopter in our backyard?” he barked, narrowing in on you with those sharp, dark eyes. “Drawing walkers from all over?”

Daryl shifted where he stood, making the leather of your jacket squeak as it rubbed together. You were beginning to feel like tinfoil in a microwave — cooking slowly in the sun as you waited for the men to finish brooding.

“Ya hear ‘nything?” the mechanic asked of the group, who turned away from his intense gaze one-by-one. “Din’t think so,” he spat, and you could practically hear his thoughts.

What a bunch of cowards.

“Was in the bow of the woods,” Daryl went on, eyeing the dark-haired man where he stood. “Land dips in at either side, like a noise tunnel.”

He paused, his eyes briefly flicking up to the sky as though seeing the scene once more.

“Only ones hearin’ it were the ones a’ready there.”

Daryl juggled you in his arms again, probably aching from the long trek, and seemed antsy to finally escape those heavy stares. But then, the man shook his head — as though remembering something.

“Now where’s my damn brother?” he growled.

And everyone’s eyes fell straight to the ground, like birds swooping down from the sky.

It would be an understatement to say that Daryl Dixon had exploded at the news.

He went nuclear.

If you hadn’t been in his arms at the time, you were certain that someone would’ve been on the receiving end of Daryl’s right hook. You’d seen it before, after all. That man wasn’t exactly one to pull his punches.

But, luckily, you had been there — crumpled in on yourself as the white hot pain also reached nuclear levels.

And so, you were ushered into a small, greyish tent that smelled faintly of oil and gasoline — and the unfortunate alcoholic stench of Merle Dixon — and stripped out of your jacket by a woman who tried her best to quell the bleeding.

But even then, you could still hear the storm raging outside the thin canvas material — the storm that went by the name of Dixon. He’d never shown that sort of temper around you before, so it came as a shock to see it brewing for yourself.

Yells competed with each other outside the tent walls, as a woman with short, greyish hair politely tended to your wounds — pretending she couldn’t hear anything at all.

But, you heard it and bolted upright, straight as an arrow.

Merle Dixon had been chained to a roof like a dog in Atlanta.

What fucking irony.

The smoking ban had loomed over rural Georgia for a while now, but it fell on the deaf ears of the regulars. They still smoked their thickly rolled cigars, and cheap cartons of cigarettes — clogging up the bar and your lungs every time you took a breath.

Dixon sat on the stool, watching as you wiped down the chestnut oak covered in sticky beer rings, and pulled new drinks for the impatient men twice your age. He was mulling over a particularly hard whiskey that day, but wouldn’t tell you the reason behind it.

So, you continued with your rounds until another man approached you, and took the only free seat beside the mechanic.

Big mistake, you smirked, and awaited his reaction.

Daryl Dixon shared barspace with no one - hence, the free seats on an otherwise crowded Friday night. Except, he did nothing but shoot the stranger a side-eyed glance, before returning to his whiskey that needed a top-up on ice.

The newcomer let his eyes slide down over you, in that sleazy way you’d become familiar with by now. He ran his tongue along the front of his teeth and tilted his head back in an exaggerated display of bravado.

And you snorted; you just couldn’t help it.

He scowled at you in response, as his gaze rested on the bare skin of your neck.

“Military dog,” he spat, despite your lack of tags, “where's yer collar?"

Beside him, the mechanic’s jaw clenched as he looked up from the ice melting in his glass.

You laughed. “Howdy, redneck, where’s your cousin?”

And Daryl choked on that same ice.

Surprisingly, the bitterness all but faded away from the unknown man’s face — as he seemed to take your comment in jest. He smirked, and wacked Daryl on the back forcefully as he hacked up his whiskey — yelling something about it being too damn expensive to go shooting out all over the bar.

You couldn’t understand the situation. You’d never seen Daryl act like that with anyone at Joe’s — let alone this particular breed of asshole.

“Feisty, jus’ how I like ‘em,” the stranger quipped back, sending a wink at you that lingered on your skin.

You pulled a face, and went back to wiping down the bar — careful not to lean over too much.

“Knock it off, Merle would’ya?” Daryl shot back, his voice rising in pitch over the name.

The other man — Merle — grinned, before clapping Daryl over the back once more. “No promises, lil’ brother,” he teased.

Then, he knocked back a drink you were certain he must’ve snuck in — because you sure as hell hadn’t poured it for him — and disappeared into the sea of drunkards playing pool and throwing darts haphazardly.

You froze, glancing over to the mechanic.

“That’s your brother? I’m so sorry-”

“Don’ worry ‘bout it,” he interrupted, before finishing his whiskey and handing you the empty glass. “Asshole deserved it.”

Back then, you saw no resemblance between Daryl and Merle Dixon — but, families always had a strange hold over a person. After all, that was the reason why you’d gotten shipped off to Georgia in the first place; your parents had swept you under the rug like a bad kept secret — simply to try and keep up appearances.

You’d followed your brother into the military, only for it to spit you back out and leave a bad taste in everyone’s mouths afterwards.

The tent door unzipped, and flapped as it caught the evening breeze.

Daryl entered like a hurricane, startling the woman — Carol — as she tended to you. He was followed by an entourage of curious faces who watched as he toed his boots off, and kicked them to the side.

“All of ya best get out,” he grumbled, as he peeled off his leather vest and set it down next to you — his eyes focused on your white shirt that had since been dyed red.

The group seemed to register his words, but no one made the move to leave.

The man let out a frustrated grunt, before fumbling with the small first-aid box near your feet. “Need to give ‘er stitches, an’ I ain’t need no one breathin’ down my neck,” he said, scowling down at the supplies.

You swallowed thickly, that didn’t sound very convincing.

A blonde woman near the tent entrance seemed to think the same, because she chirped up.

“You know how to do that?” she questioned — braver than any of the men who stood in stunned silence.

Daryl’s jaw set. “Y’ain’t believe me?” he bit back. “Think ‘m only good for spittin’ on the ground an’ feedin’ ya damn squirrels?”

The same woman recoiled at his words, and you sighed.

Always had a bark much worse than his bite, that one.

But then the man reached over for the hem of your shirt and you just froze — before slapping his hand away. He also recoiled with the same, exaggerated movements, and scowled at you as though your touch had burnt him.

You wanted to trust him, but part of you just couldn’t.

Daryl must’ve caught the look in your eyes — and recognised it for himself — because he sighed and shook his head, and glanced over at the women nearby.

“Anyone else know how to give stitches ‘round ‘ere?” he demanded, but the majority shook their heads.

All except one.

“I think I-” Carol piped up, before a burly man shot her a look so boldly threatening that it even made you flinch.

The woman paused over her words, before eventually shaking her head.

“I don’t. I’m sorry,” she mumbled, timidly, before that same man slipped his hand in hers and pulled her away.

You recognised that look, too.

And so the rest of the stragglers disappeared from the tent one-by-one, until only you and Daryl remained — deadlocked.

“C’mon, Camaro, quit yer bitchin’,” he coaxed, his voice more soft now that it was just the two of you. “Unless ya wanna bleed out o’er my tent.”

He had the needle and thread all prepared between his fingers, waiting for your permission.

You sighed. “You used to be a lot nicer, you know that?” you remarked, thinking back to the Dixon who shyly smoked cigarettes on that cliff’s edge, watching you like you were brighter than the stars.

You had noticed.

Then, you lifted up your shirt with your trembling hand, as he pressed onto your skin with his steady one.

And so Daryl gave you stitches — filling you up on Merle’s stash of whiskey to dull the pain — and muttering how, despite his work not being pretty, it’d be functional. You didn’t question how he’d come to learn how to sew butterfly stitches in the first place, thinking it best not to ask, nor did you comment on how gentle he wiped away the blood.

Always a man of his word, Daryl Dixon’s stitches were definitely not pretty.

But, to you, they looked like constellations.

He’d made it clear how lucky you’d been that it was only a surface injury; if it were anything deeper, he wouldn’t have been able to patch you up. It was probably thanks to that thick jacket that you’d managed to walk away from the crash mostly unscathed.

You’d seen him eyeing it occasionally as he worked, glancing over at the bloody leather that stained his tent floor.

Like hell would you be giving it back.

After that, he’d also managed to sneak Carol back inside — away from who you could only guess to be her husband. She’d told you that your arm wasn’t broken, but in fact dislocated, and helped set it back into place as your eyes stung with salt tears.

But you couldn’t complain.

After all, they’d tried to put you back together like humpty dumpty after your crash — albeit with staples and scotch tape.

Though, as soon as you were out of the woods and in the clear, Daryl pulled his boots back on and collected his things impatiently — not even sparing you a second glance.

“Where are you going?” you asked quietly, afraid of the answer.

Your words left your mouth a bit slurred from the medical-whiskey concoction, but he only pretended not to hear them.

You asked again, until he finally responded. “‘M goin’ to get my damn brother back, where’d ya think?” he answered, frustration laced in his voice.

He stuffed a few things into his rucksack, before slinging it over his shoulder.

“Careful, Dixon,” you cautioned, “you have a habit of finding yourself in a mess when you let your temper get the best of you.”

The man scoffed, and made a point of looking you up and down — calling you hypocritical with his eyes alone.

“Don’ act like ya know me tha’ well,” he growled, startling you with his tone.

But, you couldn’t blame him for his words.

After all, you’d spent more time apart than you had together.

The man sighed. “Gotta go get Merle,” he reasoned, more carefully this time.

He flickered open the tent, and let in the sky. It was not yet black, but a burnt orange, as though preparing to be set alight with stars. It reminded you of those evenings you’d get to close up early, and walk past a certain auto-shop that still had its amber lights turned on, and its door wide open.

And the former mechanic started walking away, leaving you behind out on the sidewalk.

“Daryl-” you called after him.

The word spilled from your mouth like beer overflowing from a glass — pouring over before you could stop it.

He glanced back immediately.

You never called him that.

Even though you knew his name from other people’s tongues, he’d always been Dixon — ever since the moment you read it on his shoddy name-tag. Not once during the month you’d spent with him had you called him Daryl.

Not until now.

“It’s getting dark out,” you whispered, even though the sky was still clearly orange.

You swallowed the dryness from your throat — and with it, your pride.

“Please stay? Until morning?”

Dixon looked back at you, swaddled in one of his clean shirts that he’d buttoned up himself — making you look so small.

And he sighed. He always was the worst liar of them all.

“Jus’ ‘til mornin’,” he repeated, trudging back to that grey tent.

Then, he took a seat beside you, his knees knocking against yours. But you tried to fight against your smile, and racing heart that pounded deep in your chest.

Because what goes up must always come down.

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A/N Boom. The series has officially been kicked off. Did you like seeing the parallels between Daryl’s POV in the prologue and the reader’s? I really hope you all enjoyed it - please let me know what you think :)

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hyuneytoast · 3 years

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Closer than danger || L.MH

✦Genre - Zombie Apocalypse AU, Lee Minho x Reader (ft. Seungmin), Angst, hint of fluff

✦Warnings - Blood, minor injuries, violence, swearing, weapons

✦Word count - 2.9k

✦Disclaimer! All writings are pure fiction and for entertainment purposes only. They are not meant to portray any members or situations in real life.

“Ok, recap,” Minho gravels out of the cold air, grabbing attention from Seungmin and you.

Knives are firmly in all three of your grips as eyes and ears are on high alert, feet steadily walking across the cracked, empty roads. Another familiar sight of an abandoned town that makes your heart flip with uneasiness. Buildings on each side of the road are dark inside, windows shattered, walls decorated with splatters of blood and desperate handprints. A light grey haze is settled in the far ends of the road along with wrecked vehicles. The town cries itself in tears of a cold bitter air and a helpless invasion of destruction. Damn the dead that roams, taking over each life in this cursed world.

“I’ll be at the corner pharmacy while you two are at the convenient store. We'll meet up at the fountain in the center. Guns are to be used if pocket knives are unmatched only, just as usual. Got it?”

You firmly nod while Seungmin mumbles a confirmation, before departing from the blond male. You stop when a hand grabs yours from behind.

“Be safe, ok, love?” Minho squeezes your hand, placing a kiss on your forehead.

“Of course, and you too. Please,” You stare at his eyes that are evident in pure worry, like always when you two split up, before sliding out of his hold and returning alongside Seungmin who doesn’t stop to wait for you.

Your heart shatters the more seconds you see his saddened look. Leaving Minho during a supply run is a situation that you can’t help but internally tremble at, no matter how many times it has already happened. It’s an apocalypse for god’s sake, anything can happen whether you expect it or not. You glimpse over your shoulder to see Minho continue his way to the pharmacy, the last building on the street.

You whip your head when you feel a weight on your shoulder from Seungmin’s hand as he speaks nonchalantly, “Hey, Minho will be fine as always. The sooner we get this done, the sooner we’ll all be out. Now come on.”

Small cracks are heard when you pass through the entrance from the pieces of broken glass. The cloud-filtered sunlight provides a faint glow in the store, but leaving the back walls still in shadows. No groans, no uninvited footsteps, no presence of a zombie so far. So the two of you take that as a cue to continue. It’s at times like these where you feel your mind go absolute static, lungs feeling like they Shan’t to breathe properly as much as they ache to. The sound of your pounding heart echoes through your ears and your nose reeks at the smell of various things rotting. What makes you jumpy is the fact that anything can pop out of thin air. The shelves on the aisles aren’t full, few things left for grabs. Either previous survivors stopped by or the rest is on the floor, definitely inedible. Cracked cans, crushed bottles, and random flaps of cardboard you assume were once boxes of some crackers.

“Y/N, over here!” You hear a sharp whisper from Seungmin on the aisle across, which you cautiously follow. You immediately join when you see him eagerly snatching off bottles of water from the shelf, placing it in the backpack.

After clearing out the bits on the shelf, you two take a scan around for anything more. A few expired protein bars here and there along with limbs behind the cashier counter which you nearly throw up at the sick sight.

Your body is still tense, anxiety through the roof. You snap your head in the direction behind you when a moderately loud ping! and curse is heard. Seungmin’s bag ran into the corner of a shelf of what seems to be once an aisle of wine. Bodies freezing out of pure shock, the glass rolling a mere centimeter before coming in contact with the empty air that drags it down to the tiles. The shattering sound echoes from the building causing you two to visibly gulp, Seungmin gritting his teeth and eyes squeezing shut. You dash towards the male, latching on his arm and pulling him behind the counter; Trying your best to ignore the half person company lying on the floor near you.

They’ve already come, and it’s unsure of how much due to your hidings below the counter, but the several sluggish moans and swift footsteps barge in. Their snarls and short screams confirm they’re on high alert of what’s to be going on within the store.

Collecting the minimalist of your thoughts and breaths, you raise your head just enough to peek over, noticing the zombies are distributed in the aisles, their backs turned from your direction and door. You tug at Seungmin, notifying him to follow, before getting on your feet; knees bent to keep low, but feet making long strides towards the exit. You bite your bottom lip rather firmly, eventually tasting the metallic blood.

Crack!

You look down at the damned loud glass shard you stepped upon, now split into two.

“Fucking hell,” You mutter as high-pitched, raging screams penetrates from behind, nearly making you want to cover your ears. Instead, your hands grab out your pocket knife and turn around, but you knew neither you and Seungmin weren’t going to make it out like this. Not with a pocket knife, and certainly not with the mere dozen zombies dashing your way.

Bang!

Seungmin starts shooting, having you whip out your gun too. Your sweaty hands try to remain a tight grip after each shot, but aiming is made difficult with each fast target while you’re also moving back to the exit yourself. After each round, only three were down. You can almost hear the distant upcoming screams from outside the building too. With a glimpse behind, you notice more joining, having Seungmin and you have no choice but to redirect yourselves toward the corner of the store. One zombie comes a couple feet away from Seungmin, but you’re swift to react, aiming for the head that sends the wretched grey creature flying back. And you hear it. That click that is never good news.

“Fuck, I’m out!” Seungmin spams the trigger, but nothing.

Seungmin is an unpredictable man, you’ve noticed over the months with him. Everything happens within his head and less than half is interpreted. But this… You wouldn’t have figured. Seungmin looks at you with desperate eyes, but the gaze is torn when he grabs your arm and you’re thrown down into the corner. You’re unable to process as everything is happening way too fast, the sights before you only a blur. A hoard of literal death has their attention on your vulnerability, Seungmin vanishes from sight out the door, and your mind seems like it’s spinning as you’re left on the floor to fend for yourself. Your breathing grows heavy and panicked, hands trembling on the trigger as you aim for one of the zombies’ heads. That was your last bullet… A string of curse words is all you manage to get out between short, constant breaths and hot tears spilling. A hand brings out the knife in your pocket, slicing through the air as you can only hope it’d be somewhat useful against the limbs reaching towards you.

Bang!

Followed by another, and then another. The unexpected constant shooting has you jump, hurdling yourself within the corner even more. You watch each zombie as their attention is set towards the exit instead of you, before they are sent limp to the floor with straining screams. You look up, expecting Seungmin to return, but you’re met with the blond male you’d thought you’d never see again, Minho. Silence settling upon is interrupted by both your heavy breathings, adding to the fearful tension. Minho checks his surroundings before lunging himself towards you, a big thud from the harsh impact as his knees hit the floor.

“M-Minho, you-” You can only manage whimpering before the male’s arms are thrown around you, holding you like a shelter.

“Fuck, Y/N, you’re okay, right? God, please tell me they didn’t touch you, please” He pleads while catching his breath, and as you shake your head, you hear him let out a shaky huff of relief. “Holy shit, thank goodness, fucking thank god,” He repeats like a mantra, gently rocking you back in forth, comforting both you and him. You don’t know the details of what the hell just happened, but you’re shook. Your face is wet from tears as you’re still shaking in Minho's embrace, adrenaline still rushing through your blood. Him, on the other hand, has his mind running hysterically about the chaos he walked upon and how things might’ve ended if he didn’t arrive the time he did.

There then is a scream, quite far away and faint, but it’s more than a good warning telling you to flee. “We have to go quickly, baby,” He urges, voice still coated in fear; that fear of how you’re on the edge of staying beside him. Minho hoists you up to your feet, giving you a squeeze on your side. “You sure you’re not hurt? I found extra medical supplies at the pharmacy.”

“Nothing major, promise.” You give an assuring smile, but the edges of your lips are still crumpled down.

“Ok if- Shit, where’s Seungmin?” You see how the male looks everywhere, a face of horror, if more possible, as his hand is securely around yours.

“Minho…” How would you say this? ‘Cause you certainly can’t fully process the betrayal still till this moment yourself, but that certainly won’t help the man beside you who is only assuming the worst. “He ran…” You speak warily before pressing your lips into a line. You almost flinch at the immediate change of look on Minho’s face. His eyes grow dark and eyebrows furrow as he looks at you. It was all the more intimidating, something you’ve never seen on him, not this bad at least.

“What the hell do you mean? Ran?!”

Another scream from afar, you two really need to leave. “Exactly what I mean. H-he pushed me and then took off! I figured he went to bring you to help or something, especially because we were out of ammo and-” Your voice rushing after each word, breaths picking up again due to confusion and uneasiness.

“Hey, hey, calm down. Let’s save the rest for later, ok? We really have to go, Y/N.” Calmness yet efficiency is the best choice of reaction if you two want to live, but you don’t miss the rage Minho has ablaze in him. Face still wears the growing feelings of hatred and disbelief, his teeth grinding against each other.

Minho takes your gun before reloading it with an extra pack of ammo from inside his bag. He hands it back to you in one hand while securely intertwining with the other. The two of you cautiously head out into the open streets, diving into the small spaces saved between each building for cover. A few zombies whose silhouettes you make out in the grey, but no sign of Seungmin.

Minho doesn’t let go of your hand the entire way, waiting until the apartment, that the initial three of you scouted a while back, has its roof over you. The apartment is quite bare under thin dust, but what’s to be expected from one in an apocalypse. Not as empty as thought though as eyes are set on the familiar figure, or rather a familiar someone. Seungmin stares back with an unreadable look from the wooden table, hand movements paused from sorting out the packed goods from the hectic supply run.

Before anyone can make a comment or take another uneasy breath, Minho strides over to the guilty male and grabs him by the collar, harshly pinning him against the wall.

“Seungmin Kim, you fucking bastard!!” It’s a visible sight of the redness on Minho’s skin, veins popping out his neck as he yells in a deep voice. Your man is pissed as hell. His piercing look doesn’t leave Seungmin’s, who is remaining motionless, but with such a gaze set on him Minho doesn’t miss the evident fear and guilt. “You fucking laid your hands on Y/N for your own safety, for your own damn sake!” He growls, pulling Seungmin away from the wall before slamming him against it again, having him wince along with the burn of Minho’s fingers digging into his shoulders “They almost died because you!”

You let in a sharp gasp as you watch the scene unfold only more, Minho raising his fist and striking it against the other’s face. The unrelenting impact echoes in the apartment, Seungmin letting his head hang low as a red mark is formed from the hit.

“It’s a damn apocalypse, Lee. You can’t possibly think that if one goes down, we all fucking do!” Seungmin spits between gritted teeth.

The blond male scoffs, “Oh yeah? Well, look what you did-” A punch “Look where it got you now.” Another strike.

“Dammit!” Seungmin snaps, tearing off Minho’s grasp and having his fist fire back.

You can’t take it anymore, anxious by the sight. This certainly isn’t going to go anywhere. “Stop!” You call out, rushing towards the brawling men. Blood drips down from Seungmin’s nose and the big cut on Minho’s lip. Both have faces dusted in bruises along with their frustration, knuckles purple. “Minho, stop! Please!” You pull his arm as it’s raised in mid-air, pulling him away from Seungmin whose fist comes near the startled you.

Minho feels his heart drop as he catches the sight of you, brows knitted in worry and tears pricking at the edge of your eyes. He’s seen too much today, but he can’t get past the fact that Seungmin, whom he trusted enough to have as an ally, had intentions of saving himself over you. Damn it, he just can’t! The love of his life, nearly gone just like that; All because of the culprit who stands in front of him at this very moment. Minho tries to get one more hit, nearly lunging at Seungmin, but he pulls out a pocket knife and points it at the two of you in defense. Minho quickly reacts by pulling you behind him, shielding you with his arm. His other hand reaches to pull out his loaded gun towards Seungmin, his hand shaking, you notice. Seungmin’s eyes keep switching between Minho and you, a determined gaze and threatening hands.

“Don’t you. Fucking. Dare. Move an inch with your bullshit and a bullet goes through that damn head of yours.”

“Unbelievable, you’re a complete maniac, Minho!” The blade in his hands still doesn't retreat.

“Minho…” You plead in a whisper, placing your hands on his arm and having him step back.

He lets out a frustrated sigh. “Just get the hell out, and don’t you ever touch what’s mine again.”

Everyone’s still for a moment before Seungmin takes the knife and stabs the table as he gives in. “At least I can get further than the two of you and your soft hearts,” He mutters bitterly, gathering his supplies in his bag and slinging it over his shoulder. He approaches the apartment’s door, Minho lowering the gun the further he walks.

“Keep on running away, you asshole, it’s what you do best,” Minho lightly cackles, knowing just how to get even more on the other male’s nerves. It has him clench his fists, bruised knuckles turning white, before walking out to slam the door behind which has you both flinch. Minho locks the door, peering out from behind the curtain making sure Seungmin is long gone in the distance before anything else.

“I swear to god, if he-”

“Shhh, no more,” You demand, pushing him towards the edge of the couch to sit on, holding an aid kit for his face speckled in wounds. He winces at the cold contact of a cloth you dab on his cheek. All the pain is quick to subside though when he peers at your face that’s only a small distance away as you hover above. If only he could get lost in admiring every feature of yours like this everyday. Your eyes are deep of care and concern, focusing on cleaning him up.

"Reminds me of our late high school years, don't you think, angel?" He murmurs. "Always getting into fights, but then you'd come along and fix me up."

"Even in an apocalypse, some things always stay the same," You chuckle, a soft smile that reminisces those untouched moments.

What did he ever do to deserve you in a fucked up world like this, Minho wonders to himself as he wraps his arms loosely around your waist. He also wonders if he went overboard back there, recalling your fretted state. “I’m sorry, Y/N…I lost my mind, but I still shouldn’t have reacted like that. Did I... scare you?”

Your fingers gently glide over his skin, applying antibiotic ointment. “Mm… yeah, but more because I didn’t want you getting any more hurt. It’s okay though, I understand. I’m more than thankful for your protection.”

“Thank you.”

You avert your eyes towards his for a moment. “No, thank you, Min. Thank you for being there for me.”

And with that, you plant your lips on his, a feeling that makes Minho helplessly smile, and one that makes all burdening feelings dissipate. Or, at least for now.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: SKZ Materialist*.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

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townofcrosshollow · 3 years

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In honor of 500 followers (thank you!), here is the first in a series of short stories I’ll be releasing over the next few months. This one has a lot of lore in it, and I’m excited to finally officially start sharing it with you. Hope you enjoy it, let me know what you think :)

Word Count: 1.2k

Genre: Murder mystery, noir, horror

Content Warnings: Death, blood

Synopsis: Antoine Reiner is still a new deputy at the Gunnison County Sheriff’s Office in the late 1980s when he becomes embroiled in a serial murder case that puts Crosshollow, CO on the map.

That day would come to loom large in Antoine’s memory. It was the start of a new chapter in his life, and far from a good one. Before it happened, however, it seemed like just another night shift early on a September morning. His tan ‘81 Chevy Impala, stamped with the seven-pointed star of the Gunnison County Sheriff’s Office, was idling off the side of Main Street. It was getting up there in years- not that the department had the funds to replace them. The patter of rain on its roof was almost drowned out by the tinny country tune playing over the car’s radio. At his side, his own portable radio occasionally filled the car’s interior with static and idle chatter. If there was one thing he enjoyed about working night shifts patrolling up in the mountains of Nowhere, USA, it was that nothing ever happened- every night up here was as boring as the last.

Glancing at the dashboard, he took note of the time- almost 2AM. The Last Stop was closing soon, and that meant that both the least interesting part of the night and his last chance to get a bite to eat were drawing near. His headlights flashed to life and he pulled out into the road.

At this time of night, a town like Crosshollow was always dead. The false-front businesses along Main Street were lined up like tombstones, their windows dark and their front doors locked. Many of them were constructions from the 50s and 60s, eschewing modern styles to recreate the nostalgic look of the Old West. They were imitations of imitations of success. The ancient concrete road, with its potholes forming puddles of the rain, betrayed the truth about this backwater town.

A shining beacon of fluorescent light signalled the only gas station still open at this time of night. Across from it sat a nondescript brick building, sticking out like a sore thumb among the false idols of the Old West. It made no attempt to look old fashioned, a squat construction with big glass windows looking in on the bar and grill. Inside the crowd was nearly dead, but folks were still here- each sitting far apart on the bar or at their own tables alone, staring at the TV screens or the bottoms of their glasses. There were at least enough people to fill the small front parking lot.

Putting his signal on despite the absence of cars on this darkened street, Antoine turned in to the lot, continuing along the side of the building. The back lot was much larger- originally just for staff, with an addition they made at least decade ago when the population started to outpace their capacity. With that unplanned expansion came an eerie atmosphere, however. Sandwiched between a building on one side and the wooded area of a small park behind it, and without any windows looking out onto it, the area was bathed in darkness as soon as the sun set.

He pulled into a space in an empty corner of the poorly lit lot, putting the Impala into park and taking the keys out of the ignition. The country tune playing over the tinny radio shut off mid-word alongside the engine and plunged him into a gloomy silence. Only the patter of rain on the roof remained. Opening the door, he stepped out into the dreary morning. His nicely shined shoes found themselves landing straight into a puddle of muddy water, splashing the bottoms of his uniform trousers. He cursed to himself as he tried to shake off some of the water.

As he walked across the parking lot towards the dry respite of the bar, something caught Antoine’s eye and his heart skipped a beat. Three cars were lined up near the back entrance, presumably belonging to the remaining employees at the establishment. Slumped up against the back bumper of a Cutlass Ciera was a figure just clear enough in the darkness to be identified as a young woman, drenched in rain.

Approaching, his heart was beating fast in his chest. Antoine had no idea what he had stumbled upon, only that it couldn’t be good. As he fumbled for the flashlight on his belt he called over, “Ma’am, are you okay?” He was hoping that perhaps she had just had a seizure of some kind and had fallen, though deep down he knew that wasn’t right. Finally, he got his flashlight out and flicked it on, flashing the beam towards the unresponsive woman.

The first thing he made out once she was illuminated was the blood. A sizable brown-red stain covered the front of her white shirt, with some matting the bleached blonde hair that had fallen to partially cover her face. Her body was positioned as if she had been propped up here, with her legs splayed out in an unnatural way and rain-diluted blood streaked across the concrete in front of her. Her uniform clung to her body, a sign that she had been lying in the rain for a while. One of her pumps had partly fallen off her heel, as if dragged unceremoniously across the concrete. The smell of iron filled the air.

For a moment, Antoine stood there in the rain, uncertain what to do next. Thoughts raced through his head. Was this really happening? Here, of all places? Then, something snapped him back to reality- the sound of the radio at his waist, some distant static as one of his coworkers reported a traffic violation. His hand went to his side, fumbling to unhook the radio from its place on his belt. Holding it up and pressing down the button to speak, he hesitated briefly, unable to find the words to say. He had barely been in the department a few months- what was the procedure for this even supposed to be? Finally, with a crack in his voice he muttered, “Somebody call the sheriff. I think there’s been a murder. Behind the Last Stop.”

He let his hand fall to his side. Voices were calling back over the radio, clearly in a panic over this revelation, but Antoine couldn’t think about that now. Everything was running in slow motion. He had to be sure that she was dead- perhaps he had found her just in time, and he could do something to save her. He stepped through a puddle of rainwater mingling with blood and knelt down by the woman’s side, reaching out to her neck to feel her pulse.

As he made contact with her skin, the woman’s head fell to one side, and her wet hair shifted to reveal unblinking dark eyes with a white haze obscuring them. Her mouth was just slightly open, and dried blood covered her lips and chin. Her pulse was absent, and the skin of her neck wasn’t quite cold to the touch but was noticeably cooler than was natural. Antoine stumbled back from the body, his uniform becoming even more soaked by the rain on the ground, and scrambled to his feet.

He stood before the body in a daze, the voices over the radio blending into a staticky blur as sirens approached. Drenched by the puddles, he retreated to the dry cabin of his car, climbing into the driver’s seat and instinctively turning the keys. As the engine blared to life so did the radio, filling his ears with the distant sound of a country song. Antoine sat there in silence and stared back at the body in the rain- the first victim of the Slasher.

#crosshollow #ch-slasher #ch:reiner #short story #writing #writeblr #horror #mystery

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grantiskeith · 3 years

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Baby Wolf Cub (Davidxreader) Part 2

I don't know about anyone else, but this stopped being about ASMR a long time ago. Redacted's storytelling ability and world-building skills are fantastic. I would 100% read a book if he wrote one.

Here is part 2 of the first fic I have ever written.

Words: 1.8k

Warnings: dad vibes, blood, gunshot

"Hello?" I picked up my ringing phone "what! Who is this!" David picked his head off the floor, ears perking up. The little pup yawned and stretched against David's fur.

"Where? Tonight?" Click. 11:14 pm. David shifted back into his human self which prompted the sleeping cub into a sleeping baby with its butt in the air. "What's going on?"

I dialed another number without answering him."Milo, hey I need you to come over. It's an emergency. No, no one's hurt but we need your help. Yeah, thanks"

Click. "They followed me from Chicago, they want the kid back." I walked to the little one one and bent over to pick him up. David stuck his hand out in front of mine.

"Don't touch him, let him sleep. Shifting takes magic and doing it as often as he is would be exhausting for a full grown adult. He'll figure it out, but he needs sleep. Now what the hell are you talking about? Who called? Stop! don't put your jacket on"

"I don't know who, all I know is that there's a lead on the corner of South and Maple and I'm going to figure out what's going on." I did put my jacket down but only to grab a light blanket off the couch and draped it over the baby's legs.

"Angel, that's too dangerous, they could be vampires or murderers or..."

"They're most likely kidnappers, which is why we need to stop them"

"Listen to yourself! You're not Sherlock Holmes, you're not Batman"

Angel put his hands on my shoulders and looked into my eyes, "you're just a fragile human and you need to stay here and be safe."

"It's not your job to protect me"

"Actually it is. As soon as you became my mate you became part of the pack. As the Alpha and your mate it is my duty to take care of you" he backed up from me and rubbed his hands over his face. "I love you Angel! I would give my life for you without question"

"I would never ask you to!" I said that a little louder than I should and the baby turned over before it started crying. I went over to pick him up but David got to him first and subtly bounced him on his hip.

"Why are you putting something so special to me in harm's way? You are a fucking danger to yourself and the more you get involved in these messes the more likely you are to put me and my pack in the line of fucking fire. There are things about the magic world that you don't understand and there are more threats than you can see. Let's ignore that call and just take this trouble maker to the department."

I put my head down to the floor. It was late and I was tired. Almost a half tempting offer. But there was a mystery to be solved here and possibly a larger crime.

"Sitting in bed and watching tv does not help anyone," I told him. "I am the mate of one of the most influential wolf pack's alpha. You know I'm tough or else you know I wouldn't last long. I was made of something durable and built for being more than a fucking house wife!"

David put the baby on the couch and laid the blanket out next to him. Carefully, he wrapped the little one up into a burrito and scooped him up to cradle him.

"Before you go and get your life sucked out by a damn shade or something. Throw a cup of milk in the microwave for a few seconds" David said, sitting down on the couch.

"Uh sure" I said. "I am not a complete dumbass, I know I shouldn't go alone. If you won't come and back me up then I will ask Milo." I handed him a lukewarm glass. "How did you get so good with infants anyway?"

Silence from David. I hate it when he just shuts down. He propped the baby up against his chest and titled the cup up until the little one could drink.

"Instinct, basic life skills, common fucking sense. All things you don't possess, clearly" he put the cup down on the table. And took a deep breath. "My dad… he would make me help out new moms in the pack. He used to say I needed to spend time with women since my mom wasn't around. It was a way of helping the pack feel more like a family"

I sat down next to him. Coat on, shoes on, ready to jump out the door.

"Angel, I have lost so damn much. Just from life already being as fucking dangerous as it is. If something happened to you... I just... I don't know what I would do... I fucking..."

I cut him off, "I know. I love you too. Unmistakable fact of life. I love you."

A knock at the door, "hey guys it's me." I got up and opened it to Milo's anxious face, "What's wrong, that's the emer.. Holy shit! is that yours" Milo stared in disbelief.

"Yes, it is, in the 48 hours I was gone I went and had a werewolf baby and now you're the designated sitter so we can go make another one" I was monotone in my sarcasm. I stepped out the door, "you coming Davey?"

David carefully slipped the baby into Milo's arms, "support the head and neck here," I heard him say. "Yeah, remember when we used to do this with Ginny's baby a few years back?"

He grabbed his jacket off the back of a chair and followed me "of course I'm coming you dumbass." He yelled down the hall at me, "Oh Milo, if he starts whimpering just shift and lay with him, he's docile. There's warm milk on the table and more in the fridge if he's crying. He didn't mind the couch but feel free to lay him on the bed"

"Let's go!" I yelled to David down the hallway.

"What the fuck is going on" was the last thing I heard Milo say before David shut the door.

South and Maple was a quiet intersection, although most are at the ungodly hour of 2am. Surrounded by three or four story buildings with alleyways and parked cars. There was no shortage of places to hide or spy down on the intersection. David and I stepped onto an alley between two buildings to discuss a plan. Unfortunately we didn't get the time.

"Where is he?"

We both turned to a tall lanky woman at the end of the alley. She was dressed in a pantsuit, real realtor vibes. Two men ran around the corner and took their place behind her. David growled but I put my hand out in front of him, "hold back" I whispered.

"Who are you and what do you want? Where are the parents?" I yelled down the alley.

"Where? Honey probably at the bottom of the the lake considering the rocks tied to their ankles"

David started growling again but I told him again to wait. This conversation was not violent yet.

"You stole that baby!" I accused

"Baby?" She laughed, "that was not a baby, what you have hidden somewhere is a freak circus animal that many are willing to pay hundreds of thousands of dollars for."

"You bitch!" I yelled

"I have bids lined up" the men besides her both shifted in werewolves which prompted David to do the same. The sudden magic and chaos of growling and barking filled the air. David was significantly larger than the other two but he was outnumbered. There was a mix of growling, barking, and biting. I was bewildered that I didn't even hear the shot. The lady whistled and both the other wolves ran to join her. They walked around the corner.

David shook himself off and ran to follow. Water fell down the side of my leg. Water? I looked up trying to find a leaking gutter or rain. No rain. I looked down and saw a red stain on the side of my shirt growing. I balled up a chunk of shirt and held it against my side.

"Davey'' my voice cracked. "Davey!" I couldn't get it to be as loud as I needed. My left ear started ringing loudly. My head was full of sawdust and my vision became the static of an old tv. I felt a hand over my own behind me. Fuck, Davey. Where did he come from?

"Can you ..." was all I heard before I felt my knees give out. David picked me up bridal style and ran to the end of the alleyway. I heard the car door open and the next thing I saw was the ceiling over the back seat. David climbed in the back with me and shut and locked the door.

"Just.. drive" fuck, talking hurt.

"Classic triage Angel, stabilize then transport." He tried to move my hand away from the wet spot I was holding.

"It doesn't hurt that bad! Just drive" I was using whatever I had left to keep him away.

"That's cause you're going into shock" he grabbed my denim jacket from the front seat, "hey, Angel look at me. I'm going to lift your hand up just for a second and put your jacket under it ok?"

I winced and nodded. It actually didn't hurt that bad. I couldn't feel anything and everything had a vague cold numbness. He drapped his leather jacket over my shoulders.

I took a deep and painful breath. I closed my eyes for a moment but then I felt David snapping his hand over my face. When did he get in the front seat? When did he start driving.

"Hey! Keep your eyes open"

"I'm fine, I'm ok. I just blinked"

"You're pale. Are you nauseous?" David put his eyes back on the road, "if we go back to the apartment they'll follow us and find the kid" he said, "but if we go to a human hospital they'll ask too many questions. So we're going to.. Hey Angel! Open your eyes and keep holding that jacket down. We're going to Milo's mother's place. She'll be ready for us. Angel! Are you listening to me? Asher and Milo have the baby. Christan is leading the pack to hunt down that woman."

I was barely making out the words. Davey was the alpha for a reason, that's the only thing I understood. Cool under pressure, rallying the troops, delegating orders. I nodded, at least I think I did. "I love you" were the words that I tried to get out of my mouth. I felt the engine of the car rev louder.

#redacted asmr #redacted David #redacted asmr david #redacted david x reader

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maddiwrites · 3 years

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Secrets of the Shore (Chapter 22)

Pairing: JJ x OC

Summary: This is just my rewrite of the show Outer Banks with my own twist by adding another main character which also happens to be John B’s twin sister.

Note: Happy Sunday (: Only two more chapters left and I’m sad about it.

Word Count: 6.8k

Chapter 21 Masterlist

My friends drag each other to Heyward's shed where he stores all his useless junk he'll probably never touch again. I always said Pope's dad was a borderline hoarder. But the clutter does nothing to distract me from what's happening to my brother.

I pace back and forth with my hands interlocked on the top of my head. As I move back and forth, my friends keep their eyes trained on me as if I might sprint back to the airstrip.

No one says anything. The four of us are try to defuse the ticking time bomb thats about to blow in all of our heads without actually losing our minds.

I freeze when I hear the familiar hum of a plane fly overhead. I feel my throat tighten and my face heat with frustration. And just like that, Ward Cameron wins again.

"There goes the gold," Pope says and throws his hat across the room.

"Shit!" JJ kicks the closest thing to him which happens to be a three legged wooden table.

"Fuck!" Pope picks up a metal trash bin and throws it across the room, just like his hat.

"Pope!" Kie yells.

"God damn it!" He continues to throw anything he can find. His bomb exploded and he's destroying anything in his path. "Shit! Fuck!" He finds a wooden baseball bat in the heap of the clutter and hits whatever he can find. Glass tables, wooden chairs, more trash bins. I'm almost mesmerized by his movements because I have never seen this side of Pope before. "Shit! Damn it!"

"Pope!" Kie's trying to clam him down while JJ and I just watch with open mouths and raised brows. However, Pope just ignores her and continues to yell and break shit. "Pope!" I can imagine the release Pope must be feeling from this. All my life, I've never seen him act like this. He's usually so composed, always the one to keep us from doing shit like this. I don't know how to react now that roles are reversed. "Pope!"

Pope eventually falls with exhaustion against the arm of a musty green couch and pants to catch his breath.

"Yeah, dude," JJ says slowly. He puts his hand on Pope's shoulder and squeezes. "I was wondering when this was gonna happen. Here you go, chief." JJ holds out his dab pen for Pope to take. Pope looks at it and for the first time, he actually considers it. "A little weed never hurt no one."

"JJ," Kie says, disapproving.

"Relax, Kie."

"You know he doesn't smoke."

Pope ignores both of them and takes the pen from JJ and inhales a large hit. As if this kid couldn't shock me more today.

"Well, maybe not until today."

"Pope."

"Yeah, what is that gonna help?" Pope says. "I lost my scholarship. Walked out in the middle of the interview. Every -" Pope inhales sharply and shakes his head. "It's gone. It's not gonna happen."

"You did that for us?" Kie asks.

"No, not for us. For nothing."

I never thought of silence as being physically heavy, but right now, I feel like I'm being weighed down by a thick fog that I can't swim out of. Pope's right. Despite everything we did right this summer to get something we all deserve, we ended up with nothing except for more problems.

"I'm here for you, Pope," JJ says. "Welcome to my world, okay?"

Kie looks at me for some kind of assistance, but I have nothing to offer. She sighs and looks back at the boys. "JJ -"

"What, Kie? He's right. It doesn't matter anymore."

"You don't have to do that," Kie tells Pope and motions to the weed.

"What do you care?" Pope snaps.

Before this can get any worse, I turn at the sound of footsteps approaching us. My jaw physically hits the ground, at least that's what it feels like, when I see John B.

His eyes are facing forward and his clothes are covered in blood. He looks like he's in some kind of state of shock and I am terrified to find out why.

But my sisterly instincts kick in first. I'm running to him before the others even see him and my hands are pulling his shirt up to make sure the blood isn't his. John B reacts as if I'm not even there and stares ahead.

"John B what happened?" My voice shakes as my eyes scan his body. There's not a even a scratch on him, but I almost wish there was. Because this means the blood belongs to someone else, and I don't want to think that my brother is the reason for it.

"Dude! Dude, you good?" JJ runs up behind me and looks over John B's body with big eyes.

"Oh, my God! John B!"

"Is this yours?"

"Whose blood is that?"

I cup John B's face in my hands and make him look at me. When his eyes finally find mine, I ask, "What happened?"

Before he can answer, cop cars with their sirens on pass us on the road behind us. John B grabs me by the arm and shoves us all back into the shed and we duck behind a wooden slack.

"Shit," Pope curses as his chest moves up and down heavily.

When the coast is clear, John B tells us what happened. Sheriff Peterkin showed up. At first Ward thought she was going to arrest John B for breaking into the airstrip and almost causing a catastrophic accident, but she was there to arrest Ward. Of course Ward wasn't going to go down without a fight and before Peterkin could react, she was shot in the chest. By none other than Rafe Cameron.

"Rafe shot Sheriff Peterkin?" I ask in disbelief.

I always thought Rafe was a lot of things, but I never had cop killer written down on my list. However, I do know that Rafe is the kind of kid who would do absolutely anything to impress his dad. He's been fighting for his attention since he was a tween. Maybe in his own sick way, he thought killing Peterkin was saving his dad.

John B nods. He tells us Peterkin told him to run. And as much as he didn't want to, he was better off with us than dead. Sarah even told him to go as she protected him with her own body while he ran away. Rafe tried to shoot him too but couldn't get his aim down as he sprinted through the woods to get to us.

"What?" I feel my blood turn ice cold when I think about Rafe trying to kill my brother. The one family member I have left. "Why would Rafe want to kill you too?"

John B shrugs. "Because I saw the whole thing."

"So did his sister," I say. "Do you think Sarah is okay?"

"Rafe wouldn't hurt her."

I scoff. "Yeah right."

Now I know that Rafe is pretty much capable of anything worthy to an eternity in hell. I don't think anyone is safe in his company. Not even Sarah. Maybe Ward.

"Kie, can you give me a ride somewhere?" John B asks.

We sneak through the back roads to get to Kie's house. When we get in her car, John B directs her to the police station. By the time we get there, the sun is completely set, blanketing the town in an eery indigo color.

Everything seems so silent to me now. The hum of Kie's radio, the shuffling of leaves brushing against each other, the bickering between my friends and brother. There's a ringing in my ear that won't go away until my hands are wrapped around Rafe's neck.

I feel like my brain as been replaced by a dark cloud. No ideas, no thoughts, no plans can make me feel any better or lighter. It's like an invisible hand has reached down my throat and twisted my heart right out of my chest.

Peterkin was the one and only person that actually helped John B and I. She kept DCS off our backs for as long as she could, she never rubbed it mine or John B's face that the whole island thought we were delusional when we said our dad was coming back, and she was even going to arrest Ward Cameron for my father's murder.

She didn't deserve to die. Although I wasn't the one who pulled the trigger, I can't help but think that her death is somehow my fault. It was my family she was protecting. She was doing her job, but she could have easily written my dad's death off as an accident like every other cop on this island.

"John B, what are we doing at the police station?" JJ asks when Kie parks the car right outside of the front entrance.

"Somebody's gotta tell them what happened." John B's voice is filled with sadness and guilt. I wish I could pull all this weight off his shoulders and add it to mine. He use to be so optimistic - always the one to cheer me up. Now that it's the other way around, I'm dumbfounded on what to do.

Pope takes another hit of JJ's juul and ends up coughing most of the hit up.

"Oh," JJ says from his seat behind Pope and pats his shoulder twice. "Easy there, chief. Damn."

I ignore the fact that Pope sounds like he's hacking up a lung and turn to look at my brother.

"Are you sure?" I ask him.

"All right. I'm just gonna be real with you right now," JJ says to my brother. "You might end up in the lion's den, but you don't go there on purpose. It's fundamental. Just like my old man always told me, you should never ever trust cops, no matter what the circumstance is."

I scoff at the idea of taking advice from JJ's dad.

"Your old man's an abusive liar," Kie says, looking through the rearview mirror with a scowl on her face.

"I agree with JJ," Pope says. "Fuck the police."

Kie turns to look at him. "You going dark side now?"

"When's the last time the police helped us?" Pope says.

"Peterkin looked out for me, all right?" John B says loud enough to grab everyone's attention. "Tried to, at least." He looks at me. "They need to know."

John B steps out of the car with his head hanging low on his shoulders. I bite down on my bottom lip, contemplating what our next move should be. All I know is that I can't let him do this by himself.

"Wait, John B!" I jump out of the car and follow him to the front door. "You're not going to do this alone."

I wait for John B to argue with me but he doesn't. Instead, he nods his head and leads me into the police station, a place I've been in a couple times by force. Never by choice.

There's a woman at the front desk who looks exhausted and busy. I can hear the mumbling of her radio on her desk and the static after each statement. I'm pretty sure I hear Peterkin's name but I don't know if it's my own head repeating her name over and over again.

"Um...excuse me, ma'am," John B says.

The woman barely looks up from her desk and writes something down on her pad of paper in front of her. "This is not a good time, kid." Had she just taken the time to look up, she would see the guy standing in front of her is covered in blood. Maybe then, she would be more worried. Instead, she focuses on her radio. "Adam, advise if you need air tran."

I open my mouth to give this woman a piece of my mind, but John B cuts me off. His voice soft and broken. "I know who shot the Sheriff."

I force myself to look up at him. He looks like he's trying his best to keep himself composed when all I know he wants to do is collapse on the nearest chair and just...breathe.

The woman freezes and finally takes in John B's appearance. She studies the stain on his shirt and the sweat on his skin, the hollowness behind his eyes and his shaky hands.

"You stay put," She says as she backs away. "I'll get a deputy."

I look around the station and feel an uneasy swirling motion in my stomach. It's unsettling. Like JJ's words are getting in my head. Maybe coming to the cops wasn't such a good idea.

My head snaps towards the radio when it statics to life again. "Central, three Vick. We have a suspect in our 31. John Routledge."

My blood runs cold and my eyes flash up to meet John B's. He's staring down at the radio like it's an actual person and he's frozen in shock.

Another woman's voice comes up on the radio. "Copy that. All units, be on the lookout for John B Routledge."

"Sixteen year old white male. Six foot. Last seen wearing board shorts, a 'Bad Brains' T shirt, and a faded red hoodie."

"Copy that."

My hands grab John B's to drag him out of here. My head scrambles to come up with our best plan, but I know staying here isn't it. Ward somehow managed to spin this around on my brother. I shouldn't be shocked, but I keep managing to be knocked out with more surprises right when I think things couldn't get any worse.

Just as I'm about to pull John B out of there, two cops come out from the back and stare at the two of us with big eyes. A man and woman dressed in their faded brown deputy uniforms. My eyes trail down to their hands that are both steady on the gun in their holster, ready to aim if they need to.

"Just...breathe. All right?" The woman cops holds out her hand as if to tell John B to stay calm.

The other officer nods. "John B. Do what she says."

"Look, I didn't...I didn't do it, okay?" John B tries to explain but his voice his shaky and lacks any sort of confidence.

"Dont...move."

"Go..." My voice is barely a hushed whisper but my tug on his arm is strong. "Go, go, go. Run!"

John B and I sprint out of the station before any officers can guard the door. I can barely hear them yelling after us through the drumming in my ears.

"Kie! Start the car!" John B yells as we basically body slam ourselves into her car. "Start the car, Kie!"

I basically rip the back door open and stumble into JJ's lap after tripping on my own feet. Everyone's yelling. The people in the car. The people running out of the police station.

"What? John B!" Kie yells as her hands shake. She tries putting the keys back into the ignition but her hands are trembling too much.

"The cops!"

"Shit!" JJ curses and looks over my shoulder at the cops who are sprinting towards us.

"Go!" John B yells at her. She turns the key but of course the car decides not to start. "Kie, drive! Go!"

"Go Kie!" Now I'm yelling at her.

"Stop the car!" One of the cops yell with her gun raised at the back window.

"I'm going! I'm sorry!" Kie says as anxiety cripples through her.

"Right now!" The woman cop from inside approaches the car. She tries to open it but the door is locked.

"What did you do?" Kie yells at us.

Kie moves the vehicle slowly out of the parking lot, but the woman is relentless. She runs with us side by side and hooks her fingers around the door handle.

"Open it!" JJ yells at John B.

John B opens the door to knock the cop off the car. The tactic works and she rolls on the ground. Only now we'll probably be written up for assault too.

I fall back into my seat and pant for breath. My head falls back against the cushioned seat and my eyes close. Okay, okay, think, Marleigh. Think.

Ward killed my dad. Ward stole my gold. Rafe killed Peterkin. And somehow, my brother is the one being framed for murder. Make it all make sense.

I hate them. The Camerons. Kooks. All entitled, greedy sons of bitches who don't know how to handle rejection or the word 'no.' They think all their meals should be served on a silver platter and kids like us are born for the sole purpose to serve them. They deserve to rot. They deserve to feel all the pain we do.

And yet, they don't. And they never will because that's the life we live. A life where people like Ward and Rafe Cameron can get a way with murder because no one would blink twice at their lame excuse of a story.

A lie.

It all boils down to money. Money we almost had right in our pockets. But now it's gone as is pretty much everything else in my life. My house. My dad. Maybe now my brother.

JJ laces his fingers with mine and gives my hand a gentle squeeze. I keep my eyes closed but let my head fall on his shoulder. I focus on his touch. How his thumb delicately rubs against my skin in a light up and down motion. How his lips are able to make my heart flutter when they kiss the top of my head. How his soft whispers, telling me everything is going to be okay, are sweet enough to make me melt into a buttery mess.

Maybe not everything's gone. I still have JJ. The constant in my life. The one who can always make me feel better even in the shittiest of situations. My sun on my darkest nights. My sight into the future when I can't even think of tomorrow.

I don't let JJ go. Even when Kie parks the car back at Heyward's shed under an open roof. We have literally nowhere else to go. The cops will undoubtedly check all of our homes, including Kie's. The Chateau is definitely surrounded by cops, waiting for John B and I to make the dumb move of going back there. And Tannyhill isn't an option anymore.

The sun is already poking out behind the trees as morning approaches. My body aches from sleeping in this cramped car, but I try to ignore the pain and focus on the fact that we're all still together. For now.

The five of us sit in silence. Some of us try to wrap our heads around what just happened and try to come up with another plan. The rest of us, like me, are so tired, they can't even remember what their middle name is.

The only noise in the car comes from Kie's radio. "...should be functional within twenty four hours." Meanwhile, another cop car with loud sirens pass us on the road without sparing this car a second glance. "And still, no arrest in the shooting death of Sheriff Susan Peterkin. The state police have issued a statement regarding a local person of interest, a juvenile from -"

Kie switches the radio off and glances back at John B and I. My brother has his seat reclined all the way back and is staring up the at the ceiling of the car. JJ has moved so his back is against the car door with one leg bent at the back of the seat and the other one on the floor. I sit between his legs and play with the necklace he gave me a couple days ago. Crazy enough, it feels like years since he gifted me this.

"Let's game this out," JJ is the first to speak. He looks at Kie and Pope in the front seat. "Maybe you guys can help, being the smart ones and all, but..." He sighs. "...who are the cops going to believe? Ward Cameron or us? So the accuser is a big shot developer, kind of lord of the island, got the governor on speed dial kind of person, and the accused...is John B, who is...pretty much a homeless sixteen year old boy at the moment."

"Thanks." John B deadpans.

"Okay, man. Yucatan, all right? I'm saying that's the only option." John B gives him a look to stop talking but of course JJ doesn't take the hint. "What other options do you have?"

"Enough with the Mexico bullshit," Kie says.

"Sarah will bail me out," John B says a lot more confidently than I feel about the situation.

"She did witness the whole thing," Kie says.

"Thank you."

"You really think she's going to pick you over her own family?" I can't help the attitude that drips off my tongue with each word. Sarah's a nice girl and I really liked her. But Rafe and Ward are her family. "No offense, but you've really only known each other for a few weeks."

"Not happening, bro. Okay?" JJ says, agreeing with me. "We gotta get you off the island."

"The ferry," Pope speaks up for the first time all morning. "It's the only way."

"Exit stage left while you still can. Before the entire island is on lockdown."

"Guys, just get down," Kie slumps further into her seat as another round of sirens pass us.

"Sarah's not a Pogue, John B," Pope says. He has a point. Sarah hasn't been friends with all of us for that long. I almost wouldn't even blame her if she took her family's side.

"Yeah. You can't stay here, man," JJ says, tightening his hold on me.

Another moment of silence passes through us and I wonder if JJ's right. Adrenaline on the island is at an all time high. No cop, no lawyer, no person is going to believe John B over Ward. Not without evidence. We need time to clear John B's name. So maybe getting him off the island would be best. Even if it's just temporary.

~ ~ ~

When Kie parks in front of the ferry, Pope hops out to buy the tickets and Kie moves to the passenger seat. I offered to go with him but JJ told me that was a bad idea because I would get recognized as John B's sister.

So here I am, useless and laying down as flat as I can next to John B to avoid being seen through the windows.

I look at John B. His eyes are closed and his chest moves heavily up and down. His fingers flex and clench into fists every couple of seconds. I wonder if his fractured hand is starting to hurt him.

"The first thing we're doing when we get off this stupid island is buying you a new outfit," I say. I cringe in disgust when I look at Peterkin's blood stain on his clothes. Another reminder that she's dead.

I look up to the front seat window when Pope comes back to the car. He's mumbling to himself and I think he has something in his hand.

"Okay. All right, no."

"Pope, can you act normal?" Kie says through clenched teeth and unlocks the door for Pope to get in.

"Okay, um...okay, so, bad news. The ferry's closed, and there is this."

Kie takes a piece of paper from his hand and looks at it. Her eyes close for half a second and she shakes her head. "Shit."

"What is that? What is this?" John B asks.

JJ snags the paper out of Kie's hand and looks at it. "Well, John B, uh...this is a good framer of you." He turns the paper over and shows my brother and I a picture of John B on a 'WANTED' sign with a cash reward of $25,000.

"Okay, so the whole island's looking for John B right now," Pope says.

"That's a lot of money," I can't help but laugh. "Gotta say, John B. Didn't think you would be worth that much. Hell, maybe I'll turn you in."

"Congratulations John B, you're famous," JJ says.

John B slaps the outside of my thigh with the back of his hand. I scoff and slap him back, which causes a strings of slaps and hits, though mostly playful, and some a little harder.

"Stop. Guys, stop!" Kie says loudly. JJ pulls my hands away from my brother and folds them in my lap. He gives me a warning look, like a teacher would their student, and it makes me want to laugh about how bizarre this whole thing is. "We got to get to the HMS. We need small, no running lights -"

"It's at the Chateau, Kie," John B says.

"And I wonder if the cops got the entire place taken out," JJ says sarcastically. "Let me think. Oh, yeah. No. they definitely have that place locked down."

"Let me think. Just give me a second," John B says frustratingly.

"JJ," Pope says.

"What?" He looks up.

"Does your dad still have the boat? The cigarette boat, the Phantom. The one he used to race."

I look up at JJ, but I can't read his emotions. He keeps his face unfazed. "Maybe."

"You could get right up the coast, no problem. Okay, look - "

"It won't be easy, Pope."

"The surf's running from three to four."

"I don't know where the keys are."

"Well, find them."

"I'm thinking," JJ snaps.

"Why is nobody moving forward?" Pope yells at the car in front of us and bangs the palm of his hand on the steering wheel.

I rub my fingers in a circular motion on my temples and close my eyes again. Words are being spat at about a million miles per hour. It's hard to keep up and my blood vessels twist with anxiety.

"Can you relax?" Kie hisses. "JJ, how much weed did you give him?"

"Guys," John B says. "Your car's on the poster."

Pope ignores everyone and hits his fist against the horn of the car. "Can we move it?"

"Pope!"

I'm going to puke.

"Come on!"

"Don't honk the horn!" Kie says, hitting Pope's arms away from the wheel.

"It's that guy. Right there!" I hear a voice outside our window say. The voice sounds young. Kid-like.

"Shit," John B tries pushing himself further into his seat. I didn't even realize he sat up in the first place.

"We got a snitch. Pope, turn the car on," JJ says, sitting up in his seat and leaning forward to hit Pope on the shoulder.

"We get $25,000 if we find him!" The kid says.

"Hey! He's right there!" Another voice. Manly. Great, we're drawing a crowd.

"Hey! We gotta go!" Kie yells.

"Pope, go!" I yell.

"Turn the car on!" JJ yells.

We're all yelling and I think my eardrums might burst.

"I found him first!" The kid says to the man.

"Hell you did, you little bastard!"

"Pope, turn the frickin' car on!" JJ yells.

The crowd starts growing around the car. John B turns into my side and pulls his hood up over his head.

"I am trying!" Pope yells back at us.

"Turn the car on!"

"Go, go, go!"

Pope jerks the car forward and hits the car in front of us. I jolt forward in the middle seat and stop myself from going through the windshield by pressing my two arms on the front two seats.

I hear the crowd gasp and move backwards to avoid the nutso in the front seat. Now that I think about it, who let Pope drive in the first place?

"Pope! Jeez!" JJ curses.

"Dude, back up!" Kie yells.

Pope puts the car in reverse and steps on the gas, but hits another car in the process.

"Hey!"

"The other way!"

JJ pats Pope's shoulder again. "It's okay! Pope, just go!"

Pope hits the corner of Kie's front bumper against the car in front of us again but continues to step on the gas until we're completely out of our spot.

"What are you doing?" Kie yells at him.

"We'll bump out!"

"Watch out!" I yell when I spot a couple of people crossing the street before Pope can kill them.

"Whoa! Whoa! Watch out!" Pope yells and swings his hands in front of him to motion for the people to jump out of the way. "Watch out!" My back hits the back of my seat, hard. Pope has the audacity to laugh. Head back and all. "Oh my god."

"Pope!" Kie yells. "What the fuck?"

"I'm living my best life right now," Pope says through laughter.

Kie slumps in her seat. "My mom's gonna kill me."

"I should be the last to say this, but you are not okay to drive," JJ says. I turn to glare at him and he puts his hands up in the air to surrender. He looks back out to the road and yells, "Stop!"

Pope stomps on the brakes and sends us skidding to a stop. JJ's arm whips out to the right to stop me from flying forward.

We're gonna die.

Pope looks over his shoulder at my brother. "John B, get out."

"What?" I glare.

"He's right," JJ says and my head snaps to him. He ignores me. "We'll draw the cops, you run."

"Shit," John B curses and unbuckles himself.

"I'll get the rig, and I'll meet you in the dump tomorrow, okay? Three o'clock, okay?"

"Wait, I'm coming with you," I say, but John B shakes his head.

"No. You stay here. Stay with them."

"I'm not leaving you!" I fight back and look at him like he has two heads. He must think I'm crazy if he thinks I'm going to let him run away by himself.

"JJ -" John B looks at him.

"On it. Go!" JJ's hands wrap around my waist, forcing me to stay in the car. I try prying his fingers off of me, but he's a lot stronger than I am. John B starts running off. "Three tomorrow at the dump!" When John B disappears behind the tree, JJ finally lets me go. I turn around and shove him back by his chest and slide over to the seat that John B was just in. JJ sighs and looks forward again. "Come on, go, go, go!"

Pope steps on the gas again and veers forward.

I look out the window and ignore the queasiness that has fully taken over my stomach. I know John B and JJ were right to keep me in the car. I would only slow John B down and get myself in trouble and therefore, be completely useless in helping my brother. But I can't shake the feeling that I'm abandoning him.

~ ~ ~

Pope, for some reason, is still driving. I don't know where he's going but it seems like we're on our way to Figure Eight. Pope turns on the radio, blasting one of North Carolina's hip hop stations.

JJ leans forward in the middle seat and pushes his head between Kie and Pope. He's managing to laugh like we're on some joy ride on Memorial Day weekend. "Pope, you clocked that car, man. Like that was so bad!" JJ shakes his head. "I'm just glad I'm not driving now."

" Pull over." Kie tells Pope. "JJ, it's not funny. He shouldn't be driving."

JJ grimaces. "Mama's mad."

Pope pulls the car over and switches seats with Kie. A delirious grin stays on the high boy's lips as he settles in the passenger seat.

"What are you -"

"Where are we going?" I ask Kie as she makes a familiar right turn.

"The last place they're gonna look." Kie says.

~ ~ ~

By the time Kie pulls up to Tannyhill, the sun has disappeared into the horizon and the pit of my stomach is the size of a category five hurricane. I can't remember the last time I ate or drank anything and the pounding in my head feels like a hundred bullets are penetrating my skull.

Kie's brilliant idea is to somehow get to Sarah and convince her to go to the police to confess what actually happened.

"Perfectly focused," Pope says to himself, which makes me glare at him. Pope is anything but focused.

"You sure this is a good idea?" JJ says.

"She's the only one who can clear John B," Kie says.

"Last place they'll look because of how stupid it is."

Kie ignores JJ and gets out of the car with Pope following right behind her. When I open the door, JJ pulls me back and closes the door again.

I look at him. My first reaction is to be concerned. Something in JJ's expression makes me fold. For a second I forget the mess we're in and I get lost in his blue eyes. It's just me and JJ and the world outside of this car no longer exists.

His warm hand wraps around my smaller one and he pulls me closer into him. His other hand cups my face, right underneath my jaw. My face feels like it's physically sparkling with the touch of his breath and forget butterflies - there is a zoo in the pit of my stomach. I glide into JJ like magnet.

His lips press into mine and I cave in. I pull him close enough to where I'm straddling him. Time stops as does my breathing. My fingers run through his blonde hair, tugging on the ends. He stifles back a moan and my face flushes pink.

I pull back for breath and rest my forehead against his. I don't know how many more times we're going to get to do that. And it hurts me thinking it might come to an end.

"I'm sorry," I say.

JJ ignores me. "When we get to Yucatan, we're getting a bungalow. We're going to live in bathing suits and get drunk off of pina coladas every day. Skinny dipping is going to be our main source of exercise - well, other than the hot dangerous sex we're gonna have every night. I'm never going to leave your side and I'm going to keep you safe until the day we die. In a few years, we'll get married. You're gonna wear that dress you wore to Midsummers and we're gonna have beautiful beach babies who will go on to win surfing championships by the time they're ten because they're going to be prodigies. Our prodigies. And John B is going to be there with us. Because he's not going to jail for a crime he didn't commit. Okay?"

I don't even realize tears are streaming down my face until he's wiping his thumb against my wet cheek.

"Promise?" My voice cracks and I really wish it didn't. But that's the life I want. That's the life I need. I don't care if it's in Yucatan or in the middle of a deserted island. I just need my boys, Kie, and Pope.

JJ kisses my left cheek. Then my right and my nose. "I promise."

"I love you, J."

"And I love you. Everything is going to be okay. I'm going to make sure you're okay."

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Okay."

JJ laughs. "Okay."

As much as I don't want to leave him, as much as I'd rather stay here with JJ and forget about all our problems, I know I can't. Because Kie is probably freaking out, waiting for me. Because John B is on the run somewhere and I need to do something, anything to help him.

"I should probably..."

JJ rolls his eyes playfully. "Yeah I know. Be quick. Okay?"

I nod and jump out of the car before my head or my heart can make me do otherwise. I push my legs, that feel like rubber, over the stone wall that lines the Cameron's property.

I stop in my tracks when I hear Pope and Kie in some kind of intense conversation...well as intense as Pope can handle right now. I think he's still super high.

"Pope! Pope! Pope! Sh!" Kie says in a hushed tone.

"Hey, I'm trying to tell you, I love you."

Oh shit. I look at the stone wall I just jumped over and consider jumping back over it to avoid eavesdropping on this conversation.

"First of all, I need you to be quiet," Kie says.

"Okay, yeah. Quiet, I mean -"

"No. Stop talking, like, now." Kie says. This time, Pope doesn't speak. "Second of all...thank you for saying that."

I can't help but physically cringe at that statement. Because I know what's coming next.

"Okay," Pope chuckles.

"Now, that's very sweet, but it's - look it's not gonna happen."

"Okay, well, why not?"

This is like a car wreck you can't look away from. I had a feeling Pope was in love with Kie for years now. But he never acted on it. Didn't even flirt with her the way JJ did before we were together. A part of me always hoped he did. Because I wanted to see how Kie would react. I think the two of them would be really cute together. Kie could teach Pope to take more risks and Pope could give her a beautiful life that didn't require her working for her parents forever. They compliment each other. Always have.

"Because Pogues can't mack on other Pogues."

Pope scoffs. "That rule doesn't make sense, and nobody follows it. I mean look at JJ and Marleigh -"

"Look, I - I want something different."

"Okay, I-"

"I - I wanna go to Antartica, and I wanna ride camels..."

"I want to do those things with you."

"No. Pope, it's not gonna work."

"I want to be that person!"

"No. It's not gonna happen," Kie shakes her head. God, this is brutal. I can't wait to tell JJ. "Do you understand what I'm saying? Like..." Kie sighs. "Look, I know that that's really hard to hear right now, but we don't have time for this, and this is a really bad place to do it." She pauses and Pope doesn't respond. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah..." He says, but his voice has completely changed. It's dark and cold and doesn't match my Pope's personality.

"Are you ready for the plan, or..."

"Yeah."

"Okay..." Kie says and this is when I decide to make my entrance. I can't help with the situation at hand but at least I can cause a distraction.

So I cough. "Sorry for the hold up. JJ and I were just fighting over who has to be look out. So..." I force myself to look between Pope and Kie as if I didn't just witness their whole conversation. I try not to focus on the tear streak down Pope's cheek and look at Kie. "Ready?"

Kie nods and leads us towards the Cameron's. A house I almost called my home.

Kie is in charge of getting to Sarah Cameron by her bedroom window while I stay with Pope and create a distraction. We decided it was best if one of us stayed with Pope so I offered myself, considering what I just watched.

Pope still seems to be upset. He's not exactly being quiet trying to stay hidden like we should be.

"Gotta stick to the plan," Pope mumbles to himself and plays with the grill. I find the closest pillow on their patio set and place it on top of it. "I like camels. I like Antartica."

"Pope..." I say softly. The last thing I want is to piss him off more but he's making me nervous.

He ignores me. "What's wrong with that plan?" He bends down and picks up a rubber duck in a paramedic costume and looks at it thoughtfully. "Same." I don't know exactly what that means but he throws the duck into the grill and finds the lighter fluid. When he saturates the pillow...and duck, he turns the grill on. The fluid quickly ignites and flames shoot out from the grill. Pope's head is close enough to the fire that his hat catches on fire. "Shit!"

"Holy shit," I throw my arm at his head and knock the hat off of him. I stomp on it until the flame dies under my sneakers and pull him behind the closest tree that can hide us both.

Less than a minute later, I hear two pairs of footsteps come out. I recognize Ward's voice as he curses at the destructed grill until he stops and mutters the name "Sarah" under his breath and makes a beeline back in side.

Taglist: @notyourcupofteax @acvross-the-universe @jjmaybankzz @moniamaybank @realistic-breadstick @urbinoutfiters @jeeperky @brebear121 @x-lulu @freddymaybank @jjpouggues @lemur46 @is-it-really-a-secret @kkmikayla @folkloverr @alexa-playafricabytoto @jjxrudy @migilini @stellarskys @rochyu @itsagurl @dazzlingnights

#jj maybank fic #outer banks rewrite #jj x oc

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anthropwashere · 4 years

Text

deadfic: Bang Babies got nothin’ on the Ghost Kid

More deadfic for @goodintentionswipfest! There was a post circulating on here once upon a time riffing on how OP Danny is compared to regular superheroes, so here’s about 4k of a Static Shock/Danny Phantom crossover that didn’t end up going anywhere.

The first time they see him, he’s just a black and white streak that nearly knocks them both out of the sky.

“Who—what was that?” Static gapes once he’s regained his balance. Green data splashes across Gear’s visor, obscuring his own incredulous expression.

“No idea, but they just clocked 154 miles per hour.”

“Well the speed limit here is only 45. Wanna pull ‘em over?”

Gear snorts. “If we can catch ‘em, sure.”

But whoever or whatever it was is long gone. After a week with no other sightings of ‘Flash Noir’ as they call the stranger, they let it go. Whatever it is will turn up, or it won’t. So long as no one’s getting hurt by it, it’s not really their problem, right?

The second time they see him is a week after that, and he’s hovering over the school roof just… watching. Other people see him too, and they all point and stare at the figure all in stark black and white, a teenage boy from the waist up and a ribbon of black from the waist down.

Virgil and Richie share a mutual look of relief. They’d started to think they’d imagined him, never mind what Backpack had recorded. But when they look up at the roof again the kid is gone.

The third time they see him, he’s just a black speck barely glimpsed in the streaky post-rain evening sky. They only realize it’s him—and that he’s there at all—because Backpack catches him on the edge of its radar. He’s too high up, way too high up. The air’s just too thin for normal people—or normal bang babies, for what that’s worth. They try to get as close as they can anyway, but he blinks out of existence long before they can make out any details.

The fourth time they see him, he’s got a minivan and a corolla balanced in each hand like gravity’s got better things to do than pay him any mind. He’s holding them by the bumpers. Gear promptly loses his mind trying to figure out the physics behind such a feat, so it’s only Static that sees the guy toss a grin their way as he sets the two vehicles down on a stretch of road aways away from the car accident he’d apparently saved them from joining.

The strange kid waves at the families he’d saved, then takes off before Static and Gear can get near him. Backpack helpfully informs Gear that this mysterious guy encroaching on their hero turf clocked 60 miles in two seconds flat.

The fifth time they see him, he’s waiting for them in the junkyard looking infuriatingly smug. Static and Gear gape, then jump for him. It’s been starting to feel like chasing a mirage, but this time the guy stays put.

“Relax,” he tells them with a laugh and a lazy grin. “I’m not a bad guy.”

This close they can see he’s not any older than they are. He’d look like any normal kid, except for the glowing green eyes and shock of white hair fluttering in a breeze that isn’t there.

“Then why are you stalkin’ us?” Static challenges.

“I wouldn’t say ‘stalk,’” the guy replies, defensive. “I’ve just never seen any other superheroes before. I was curious, that’s all.”

“I guess you don’t watch the news much,” Gear says, unimpressed. “You can go a day without hearing about a super making headlines somewhere.”

The kid’s grin turns uneasy. “I’m, uh, not actually from around here. Superheroes are a bit thin on the ground, where I’m from.”

“And where’s that, the North Pole?” Static asks.

The kid rolls his eyes. “Through an interdimensional rift in space four blocks from here. Hang a right past the Lovecraft reference and straight on ‘til morning.”

Static and Gear share an exasperated look.

“Look, kid,” Gear begins heatedly, only to be cut off.

“Oh no, no fair. You guys look like you’re still in high school too, so cut it out with the ‘kid’ stuff. The name is Phantom.”

Gear huffs. “Fine, Phantom. Point is we appreciate the help. You’re doing good work. But the superhero thing’s dangerous. You can’t just, y’know, jump into it.”

As if the two of them hadn’t done just that. But, y’know. It felt right to warn the guy, at least.

“It’s not a matter of ‘if’ you’ll get hurt if you stick with it,” Static adds. “And, okay, you might be new in town, so maybe you don’t know, but the two of us have got Dakota covered just fine.”

Phantom rolls his eyes, bouncing into the air. Gravity really doesn’t pay him any mind at all. How does he fly? Telekinesis? He does it like he’s so used to it the switch from standing to hovering is as natural as breathing. “Trust me, this city’s a walk in the park compared to what I deal with. Forgive me for seeing a chance to lend a hand to a couple of kids who clearly needed the help.”

“Now wait a minute—”

He drifts higher. “Oh, and by the way, there’s a guy calling himself Hotstreak waiting for you on ice by the community center. You’re welcome.”

“Wait—!”

But he blinks out of sight just like his name would suggest he could. There’s a pause as they both stare stupidly at thin air, then Gear swears. “‘On ice?’ Don’t tell me he’s got ice powers too.”

Phantom does, in fact, have ice powers too. Talk about overkill.

The sixth time Phantom makes an appearance, Virgil Hawkins is eating dinner with his dad and sister. He happens to glance out the window only to see a pair of neon green eyes staring back at him. Virgil drops his glass, yelping when milk splashes his mostly empty plate and spills into his lap.

“What’s the matter with you?” His sister asks.

“Uh. I—nothing! Nothing at all! I just—remembered that I, uh. Book report! I left my book report at Richie’s and I need to go get it!”

“Can’t it wait until school tomorrow?” His dad asks.

“No—no, it can’t, because I, uh, I still need to type it up and—and it’s due first period!”

He runs out of the kitchen and out the front door before either of them can yell at him to clean up the mess he’d made. He stands on the stoop, panting and trying not to panic, and Phantom swoops into view upside down with that smug grin on his face again.

“Well hey there, sparky,” he says.

Virgil thinks he maybe has a heart attack, a little bit, before he finds the strength to speak. “You’ve gotta be kidding me!” He yells in a furious stage whisper, grabbing the kid out of the air to drag him closer. “The first rule of superheroes is minding the secret identity thing, especially around family, and you just blew that right out of the water!”

Virgil’s hand goes briefly numb and Phantom slips out of his grasp. “I wouldn’t say ‘just,’” he replies, looking guilty.

Virgil’s gonna strangle him, he really is. “How long have you known who I am?”

“Wwwwwell, a couple weeks back I saw local heroes Static and Gear walk into an abandoned gas station and two normal teenagers walk out. I don’t know your real names and I didn’t know you lived here, I swear. I was just flying by and recognized your hair out of the corner of my eye. I swear,” he repeats hastily at Virgil’s murderous expression.

Virgil counts to five, then back down again, and is still just as pissed. “Fine. Okay. C’mon.”

He starts walking towards Richie’s house, because no way is he doing this on his own. Behind him Phantom asks, “Uh, where are you going?”

“We are going to R—Gear’s place. The three of us are gonna sort this out, and don’t you even think of pulling another one of your disappearing acts to get out of it!”

Phantom scoffs. “Oh yeah, because I’m so inconspicuous otherwise. Here, hold still.” He grabs Virgil’s shoulder and a chill washes over him. He startles, trying to pull away, but Phantom may as well have steel rebar for bones. Virgil looks down and yelps even louder than when he’d spilled milk all over himself; the ground has fallen away without even a rusty, trusty trash can lid underfoot. And speaking of feet, where are his feet?

“Augh, what? Whoa, no, let me go!”

“Quit squirming.”

Oh, no. He’s not getting the evil grunt orders fifty feet in the air. He grabs the hand he can’t see and sends a warning bolt. Phantom grunts, twitching.

“Augh, easy sparky! Which way is Gear’s house?”

“How is this less inconspicuous you maniac? Put me down—and don’t drop me!”

“Oh, for—you’re invisible right now.” He looks up and there’s nobody above him, but he can hear Phantom all the same. “I pulled a disappearing act and brought you along. Seriously, man, I know I’ve been goofing off and setting you on edge, but I really didn’t mean to spy. You wanna talk to Gear about the blown cover thing—I really don’t know your names still, by the way—and I wanna come to an agreement.”

Virgil sighs. These bang babies all gotta stop being so crazy. But hey, at least this one doesn’t seem like he’s about to rob any banks. “Hang a right at this light.”

It is officially too weird to watch your own body reappear before your own eyes. Virgil shudders.

“First time with invisibility?” Phantom waggles his eyebrows. “How do you feel?”

“...Tingly. Warn me before you do that again, alright?”

“You just gave me blanket permission to do it again basically whenever, you realize that, right?”

“Wh—I did not!”

Phantom rolls his eyes and phases through the roof. Seriously, there’s got to be a limit to how many spooky ooky poltergeist powers a guy can have, right? A moment later Virgil hears Richie yowling, and Phantom reappears with Richie in tow. He sets Richie down, gentle as you please, then promptly explodes.

Virgil recoils, blinking white light out of his vision. When he can see clearly again, Phantom is gone and there’s a regular teenager standing in his place, black-haired and fresh out of glowing green eyes. One forearm is bandaged from wrist to elbow.

“Wh-what?” Richie asks for the both of them.

The kid smiles, waving his uninjured hand. “Danny Fenton. It’s nice to see you without the visor.”

Turns out, Danny wasn’t kidding about being from a different dimension. He shows them the door he pops in and out of and everything. It’s an emergency exit of an old theater downtown, perfectly normal to Virgil’s eyes. Richie opens it. Rusty hinges squeal and Virgil can glimpse the vague suggestion of chairs in the dark.

“It only works if you’re focusing on the Ghost Zone,” Danny says.

“The what now?”

Richie shakes his head. “Oh no, no way. Please don’t tell me I’m talking to a dead guy.”

Danny laughs. “Nah, I’m basically as normal as either of you when I’m like this.”

Considering Virgil can do exactly as much damage as he can wearing his superhero gear, that’s not exactly comforting.

Danny nudges Richie aside, shuts the door and opens it up again. Just like that the theater’s interior is gone. There’s a hole in the world instead, bleeding radioactive green into the alleyway. There are hundreds—no, thousands—of violet doors floating in a green void that twists in dizzying shapes before his eyes. There’s no ground, no sky, it goes on forever in all directions.

“That—” Richie swallows. “That’s where you’re from?”

Danny shuts the door. Virgil tries to ignore the relief that makes jelly out of his knees, but dang, that really needed a better warning. “No, of course not. I’m from Earth, same as you. Just a, well, a slightly different one, I guess. A parallel one. That place is where ghosts come from. I only ended up here by mistake.”

“Take a left at the Lovecraft reference?” Virgil asks, rubbing his eyes.

“Ha, pretty much. I was trying to escape the Lovecraft reference. That’s, uh, not what it’s name probably is? My friend Sam called it that and I can’t understand it, so, that’s kind of stuck. It’s got enough teeth to deserve being called ‘Lovecraft reference,’ anyway.”

“Sam?” Richie asks. “Is that someone else, uh, on your team?”

“It’s not really a team. She doesn’t have super powers or anything, if that’s what you mean.”

“That’s right, you said superheroes are thin on the ground where you’re from,” Virgil says. “So I guess it’s just you dealing with the big and toothy?”

“Basically, yeah. Not a lot of opportunity to do what I did to get my powers.”

“What’d you—”

Danny holds up both hands. “Nope, nuh-uh. You’ve got your secrets, I’ve got mine.”

The seventh time they see Phantom, they finally see him in proper action. Ebon’s gang has struck a bank—Virgil’s big mouth and bad luck strikes a home run, as usual—and by the time Static and Gear arrive on the scene they’ve stolen a truck and are two blocks from the bank. Talon is flying overhead, keeping an eye out for cops or goody-good superheroes, while the rest of the gang’s inside.

They don’t stop to see who’s hurt. They’d passed an ambulance on the way, and it’s not like either of them are good for more than getting the injured to emergency care. They take chase, and the armored truck doesn’t make it another block before Gear’s knocked Talon out of the sky and Static has netted the truck in a web of electricity. It’s heavy though, too heavy for him to do more than keep its tires squealing in place and hoping Gear can gimmick up something to slow it down a little more. Ebon’s smart though. He’s not gonna pick a fight here, and Static will burn himself out long before the tires do.

“Gear!” He yells desperately.

“Working on it!”

But it’s Phantom that swoops in from nowhere, soaring down in front of the truck. He, impossibly, lifts the wheels off the street one-handed. It’s enough help to let Static focus his attention on popping the wheels off before releasing his net. He sinks to his knees, disc wobbling dangerously beneath him, catching his breath.

“I—hate—armored trucks,” he wheezes.

“Static!” Phantom calls out, startled, which means breaktime is over. He stretches his hand out and ties Shiv up with a nearby stop sign before he gets to his feet again. Phantom’s rushed off to help Gear with Talon who’s back in the air, which just leaves Ebon to Static.

Ebon slides out of the truck, an inky, glowering smear. “Who’s the new guy?”

“Friend from out of town. Why, you feelin’ like we’re not bondin’ like we used to?”

Ebon doesn’t reply, just slaps Static away. The air gets knocked out of him and he lands in a sprawl halfway down the street. Before he can recover he hears Talon scream. He slams his hands to his ears reflexively, but luckily she wasn’t aiming at him. Not so luckily, Gear and Phantom hit asphalt a few yards away.

“You okay?” Static calls out.

“I hate when she does that,” Gear complains too loudly, shaking his head like a dog and looking nauseous. Yeah, Static hates it too. He’d take getting slapped around by Ebon over having his hearing scrambled any day.

Phantom springs up quicker than either of them, grinning madly. “She wants a screaming match, huh?”

Gear looks as aggrieved as Static feels. “Do not tell me you can do that too.”

Phantom’s grin widens, eyes blazing, as Talon rejoins Ebon and Shiv at the armored truck. Shiv must’ve cut himself free of the stop sign at some point. Static makes a mental note to use two stop signs next time. The three of them are hauling bags out of the back, clearly planning on Ebon’s easy getaway trick to get at least some of the cash they’d stolen.

Static gets to his feet, zapping his disc underfoot again as he considers a half dozen strategies to take them out and not liking any of them. Ebon’s always been too slippery; it’s likely he’ll get away no matter what—

A hand claps down on his shoulder.

“Stay behind me,” Phantom says.

“What are you—”

But there’s no time to finish asking what because Phantom takes a deep breath and wails. There’s waves of concentric neon green energy bursting from his mouth, radiating out and down to Ebon’s gang. The armored car, down two tires, goes shrieking and sparking down the street. Two parked cars follow after, their windows shattering, their frames buckling. Ebon, Talon, and Shiv don’t even have time to grab at their ears; they go down like bowling pins, and don’t get up again.

The click of Phantom’s teeth when he finally stops wailing seems awfully loud. Static feels like he just walked out of a concert he’d been too near the speakers at for; his ears are ringing, his hands and feet are tingling, and his chest hurts vaguely. He swallows, looks back at Gear who’s just shaking his head a little. He looks at Phantom; the kid’s got beads of green on his forehead and he’s breathing hard.

“Sorry,” his voice cracks a little, “That one’s kinda hard to put a lid on.”

After sorting out things with the police—which Phantom vanished for, literally—they invite him back to the gas station for what is, in essence, dinner and an interrogation. Richie declares he’s had enough surprises and Virgil agrees. So they stop to grab a couple of pizzas and manhandle Danny to the gas station. Danny lets himself be manhandled with no shortage of eye rolling.

“Sit,” Richie orders, shoving a paper plate laden with three slices of pepperoni into Danny’s hands. “Explain.”

Danny sits obediently, raising his eyebrows like he’s trying not to grin. “Uh, explain what?”

“You! Your ridiculous collection of powers, where you come from, why you’re not strutting around your weird parallel Earth or whatever as Grand High Emperor of—of everything!”

Danny can’t help the grin. Virgil’s hiding one behind a can of soda too though, so he can’t judge. “Grand High—what? Do you have one of those here?”

“Danny.”

“C’mon. We agreed on no details, didn’t we? This wouldn’t even be a conversation we’d have if you were the ones coming to my city.”

“We agreed to that when it seemed like you were just another souped up Bang Baby,” Virgil cuts in, “but this is getting ridiculous. I’m not sure I like the idea of Superman’s ghost charging through Dakota any time he feels like it, especially since supers tend to bring their problems along with ‘em.”

“If you want me gone, I’ll leave. I was just trying to give you guys a hand when things were slow in Am—my city.”

“We never asked your overpowered butt for help in the first place!” Richie snaps.

Danny opens his mouth to snap something back but his phone goes off instead. He glares at them both as he pulls it out of his jeans pocket, flipping it open. His eyes widen at whatever the text reads, he fires off a quick reply, then drops his uneaten pizza on the table. “Look, here I am, going. All right?”

“Trouble in paradise?” Virgil quips.

Danny ignores it, but stops halfway to the door to look back over his shoulder. His eyes are bright green, which Virgil’s learning means more trouble than it’s worth. “You know what? How about you come visit Amity Park with me?”

The Ghost Zone is just as dizzying as Static thought it would be, and in no time at all he’s hopelessly lost and he has a monster of a headache. It’s like he’d put his face right up against a neon sign no matter where he looks; just bright green smears and the odd clutter of purple doors. “Man, you sure you’re not lost?”

Phantom throws a grin over his shoulder. “Relax, I’ve done this plenty of times.”

“Is it even safe for, uh, regular people to be here?” Richie asks nervously. “I’m getting some bizarre readings here that Backpack can’t make heads or tails of. I feel like I should have nabbed a HAZMAT suit too.”

“My parents and friends have been in and out of the Ghost Zone dozens of times, and they’re totally fine.”

“Radiation poisoning can take decades to affect people,” Gear points out.

“Eh, so maybe they’ll glow in the dark or something twenty years from now. Ectology is kind of in its infancy. Anyway, we’re here.”

There’s a circular hole of swirling green, lighter than the fog around them and suspended in a solid looking riveted steel frame. Phantom holds up one hand to stop them, sticking his head through. “We’re good,” he says when he’s popped back out. “C’mon.”

Gear and Static share one last nervous look before following after.

They find themselves in some kind of high-tech basement done all out in sleek chrome, like a mad scientist’s lab out of a Saturday morning cartoon. There are beakers and flasks bubbling with syrupy neon green stuff, barrels with CAUTION stamped on the sides, and the kind of tables that wouldn’t look out of place in a flashy investigation show morgue. Static breaks out in goosebumps and can’t even pretend to play it off on it being a little chilly in here.

“My parents built the Ghost Portal,” Phantom says, pointing back at the circle of green light still swirling behind them. “But I’m the one who made it work.”

Seeing the Portal on this side makes Gear’s breath hitch, and Static breathes out a stunned, “Whoa.” It’s an octagon framed by fat black and yellow caution stripes, easily fifteen feet in diameter. The Portal itself is identical to how it appeared on the Ghost Zone’s side, a constant dizzying swirl of toxic greens staining the enormous lab like some kind of mutant aquarium.

“Is this thing open all the time?” Gear stutters. “How is your family not dead? Heck, the whole city? This thing’s pouring out energy on a—I need to invent a new scale to quantify these readings just so I can make sense of them!”

Phantom laughs, grabbing a chrome cylinder glittering with green designs. “Don’t worry about it, seriously. My mom would know if it was, like, properly dangerous. Now c’mon, I want you to meet a regular of mine.”

Two more teenagers are waiting for them outside an evacuated post office. The girl, white with a distinctly Goth taste in clothes, gives Phantom a look that plainly states she thinks he’s nuts. “You didn’t mention you’d be bringing them through,” she says flatly.

The guy, black with thick-rimmed glasses and dressed like he can’t decide if he’s going for ‘frequents Starbucks’ or ‘military surplus’, rolls his eyes and waves. “Hi, I’m Tucker. That’s Sam. Don’t mind her, she’s just pissed the Box Ghost got the jump on her.”

“The one time I leave the house without a Thermos,” she huffs, crossing her arms.

“Sorry about the wait.” Phantom says. “Guys, this is Static and Gear.”

“Charmed,” Static says automatically. Gear just grunts.

“Don’t need three guesses to guess who,” Tucker grins. “We can catch up later. You wanna do the honors, Danny?”

“Nah.” Phantom looks at Static and Gear, looking worryingly pleased. “I helped you out with the, what’s it, Ebon and Friends. Why don’t you take a crack at one of mine?”

#danny phantom #static shock #my writing #deadfic

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strangerays · 3 years

Text

Nothing in Particular Update #3

About seven months and I finished the first draft at 93k!

I always imagined how it would feel to finish a first draft (I’ve been writing novels “seriously” since about 2017) and now that I’ve finally done it, I can say it’s a better feeling than I imagined! Telling my friends and family (and even my doctor, who was really quite excited about it) was an amazing amazing thing. I’m generally pretty nervous to tell people about my work, but I had a really positive reaction. Honestly all of it has me on a creative high (not sure I’m coming down from that any time soon lol).

I’m going back for my last year of school in two days, which means I’m not going to have as much time as I did to write all summer. This is okay, because I’m actually going to take an entire month off of writing! I’m really burnt out - don’t want to start editing a story that’s so near to me if I don’t feel ready. I’ll talk more about editing when the time comes!

In a lot of ways, I found that my life mimicked my art. I think for a lot of people, it tends to be the other way around, but this story did a lot to heal me.

Going to hop right into excerpts now! I’m not going to explain much this far into the story because I would like to try to publish this story (FAR in the future) so I apologize for that! Also, I stopped naming most of the chapters until I go back and edit because there are just SO MANY and I didn’t have the time to stop and think of cool names. Anyways... enjoy!!

(Here is the link to the original masterpost!)

text: Rays of gold curled to the ground, primordial and shy as the fire reeds on the cusps of shallow pool around the bay outside of Mothouse combed them to fine sparkles. I remembered the way Lonan kneeled on the edges of this pool. He never dove in – just blinked slowly as he watched crabs and minnows chase each other in a swirl of sand. I could not resist the water. I’d made it a part of me. My hair was longer then; down to my elbows, fading from dark red to orange and white, soaked always. Lonan let me borrow his shirts when I forgot to bring my own. They hung from my waist, too big for me, and I was warm even as the breeze rocked us inside.

text: The sky was never blue in Point Blink. At least, I couldn’t remember the last time the clouds hadn’t given way to a dark gray mist. Jude was here. I was out of place. I was floating – watching slender, underfed pines wave in the breeze behind houses on the water before they disappeared underneath furls of cloud. Bursts of warm light shone in windows on the bay, like hungry eyes watching for a storm. A group of kids our age chaffed on a rocky expanse, their heads popping over pockets of darkness when they laughed. Froths of cloud stretched across the sky, moving the ground with it. Long stretches of trees and islands far on the other side of our small pocket of ocean looked more like large freight ships. Lights glittered and beamed on the roads and highways that belonged to the city. Pink was starting to show over the horizon. Lonan was on the other side. Somewhere.

text:

Jude sucked her lips in and flopped onto her stomach so she could see the blue below her feet. Her dark curls draped over her ears and hid her nose.

“I can’t see the bottom of the ocean.” She cupped her fingers with the other hand. “See where the water fades to white and back again? The endless tide. Why do people say the ocean is blue?”

I leaned forward. She was right. Blue ocean climbed up the side of the cliffs and turned the rocks a dark gray; ate the erosion as if from a plate. I’d never had the ocean explained to me that way before.

“I think I like it that way,” I said.

I wasn’t sure I wanted to know what was at the bottom of Point Blink.

text:

She smiled weakly. “It’s okay. This is just guesswork. Patchwork.”

I wanted to apologize again, but I had a strong guess that it might make her annoyed with me. “It’s kind of like… I’m just waiting for the next bad thing to happen.”

She wrinkled her nose and eyebrows, scrunched up her little face. “That’s dumb.”

“I think it’s a smart way to live.” Sometimes it felt like worry was the only thing that kept me alive. It wasn’t dumb at all.

“You’re going to be fine though. We’re going to be fine. If something bad happens, we’ll deal with it. Don’t let it eat you.”

There was wisdom in what this seventeen-year-old girl on my bed had offered me. I caught it like a gold coin. Before I could reply with anything, she launched into another question. I didn’t want to think much about change anyways.

text:

“Oh. Wow. That’s like, next year.” I sort of laughed.

“A year can be a long time,” Lonan said with a wince. “What do you think?”

I sighed through my nose and leaned back with him. The sun was going down. Sometimes, my life felt less like a golden hourglass and more like a stopwatch with a broken face.

“For once, I think I agree with your mom.”

Lonan just stared at me, with something like awe.

“I think you should do what you want,” I said.

“Ray,” Lonan started.

“No,” I interrupted him. “It’s not about me. She’s stopped you from doing anything and everything you’ve wanted to for the last four years, so when you go to college, you’ve got to separate yourself from this place.” I pointed to him. “You’re allowed to do this.”

text:

Maybe I was just being strange. Lonan was my best friend. It didn’t help that there was a little bit of him in everything – the tide pools, the echo of shells, my broken camera.

Soon, we stood in the center of the field. A breeze whispered through the cattails, fanning against our knees. Ellis loped behind me as I stepped in and out of tire tracks under the cloudless sun. She wasn’t much different than Jude. Her footsteps crunched excitedly behind mine, excited at the prospect of an unprecedented adventure. I’d missed those.

Lonan said he didn’t like to walk in fields because the wind tricked him into thinking that someone was behind him. Every brisk of his heel was a trick of the mind. Sometimes I felt the same way, like I might be haunted.

text:

The ageless water begged me closer, frizzed my hair and swathed my arms in a sweet, familiar scent. I remembered galloping down to the shore with a childhood friend in one May. Soft piano accompanied croaky lyrics from someone’s radio when we fell chest-first into the water. Static erupted in my head. There had been nothing new for me in Point Blink for so long that I’d forgotten what it was like to float. Grass turned into pebbles, and I heard Ellis’ footsteps soften to the beat of the sand. Our eyes crumbled the shells that walled the long expanse of dark sand where waves rolled in. We leaned over like two swans, crunching shells beneath our feet, displaying shells to one another, naming the ones we recognized, and when I looked out at the horizon, I saw blue.

Red plastic cups, cigarettes, and even some broken glass stuck out through the sand as we made our way further down the shoreline, as if someone had thrown a party. My brow furrowed. Maybe this part of the beach wasn’t so abandoned after all.

Between the spit of the waves and dry sand lay some sort of book. Sand trickled out of the pages and onto my shoes when I swept it out of line of an oncoming wave. Ellis was beside me in moments. Shells tolled under her shoes.

*Warning for mention of blood (fake blood and fake knife!!) this takes place on Halloween haha*

text:

Jude held the container in her palm, kneeled down so we were shoulder to shoulder. Her eyes fixed on the knife in my neck, mine on her hands, then her focused expression. Her fingers tipped my chin up, cold on my skin. I tried not to move. Suddenly, I wasn’t thinking about Dad, or Raven, or Lonan. I only let Jude in – this girl who had come out of nowhere and wrecked me, saved me. And she didn’t know any of that. I didn’t owe anything to her, but I needed her. She kept us afloat when I couldn’t even keep myself above water. Her fingers painted blood over the center of my throat, our breath quiet on each other’s cheeks. She held my shoulder as she set back.

“Absolutely feral,” she said.

text:

“Point Blink is all I have. It’s where I am, what I am.” My throat was tight. “It’s all I’ve known. I am happy with my life. And I’m sorry, but I’m not willing to throw all of that away so we can dig up answers. I want to stay.”

Jude sat there for a moment. I think Florian and Ellis had turned to look at us, because when we went silent, I could no longer heat their hushed whispers, only the sound of water as it rose and rose and rose. I wondered if it would rain.

Jude sat up on her hands, then her knees, then she stood over me.

“Is that what you honestly believe?”

Tears bubbled in her eyes. Blood streaked down her cheeks. I’d been so focused on not crying, I had missed when she started to.

“Point Blink is just the same as anywhere,” she said. The words sat somewhere above her inside her chest, weak and frail, as though they’d been realized a long time ago.

I’d stared into her eyes until they disappeared. She grabbed onto a branch above her and quietly swung herself around a corner. Her footsteps echoed until they dissolved into waves and birds and frogs and left me in the dark.

#10

*Warning for strong language!*

text:

“Why didn’t you tell me how you’d been feeling?” he asked after a few moments of silence. It was beginning to stretch uncomfortably.

“I know I don’t deserve to know,” he added, “but you’ve always put me first.”

I picked at the wood that peeled from the fence.

“I just want you to be okay,” Lonan croaked. “Please tell me what to do.”

Even when we were together, we still worried about each other. It wasn’t always that way. Maybe that was my fault. I didn’t want to think about it.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” I mumbled into the crisp, red air. “To be fair, I didn’t know it like I know now for a long time. I think sometimes I got the same way as a kid. Now I have a name for it, and I still don’t know if it feels right.” I sighed. “I guess… I guess I just thought that was how things were supposed to be. I thought I was only the humming low and the high.”

“Of course that’s not how you’re fucking supposed to be.”

I coughed on a laugh, wiped away a new set of tears. On the rare occasion that Lonan did swear, he sounded much like he was doing it for the first time.

I hadn’t fully realized what I’d said before Lonan’s hand was around my arm. He pulled me close to his chest. I felt smaller than him; warm and safe. I exhaled and sunk into him, didn’t allow anything else in. I’d almost forgotten what that felt like.

“You’re funny and smart and better than a lot of people.”

And... that wraps up all of my excerpts for the time being! I really enjoyed writing the last four chapters of this book. Of course they aren’t perfect. A lot of the book needs improvement. There are entire characters who are flat and plot lines I just forgot about! Come October, I plan to get back into my edits/rewrite the story.

Really quick before I finish writing this:

I just wanted to thank everyone who read about my story and showed genuine interest in the characters. Had I not received all of this love from people in real life and online, I might never have finished this draft at all. When I started this story, my mental health was really quite bad. (I’m doing a whole lot better these days!!) I guess you could say the idea started as more of a journal entry. All of these characters are like little parts of me coming together to help the main character, and I think there’s something really special about that.

Thank you so much! Good luck on all your creative endeavors! It pays off in the end, I promise :)

tag list (ask to be +/-); @wannabeauthorzofija @a-completely-normal-writer @baguettethebooklover @corkytheguar @writeherewaiting @cryptid-s-wips @kingsinking @author-a-holmes

#my little note at the end says it all haha #thank you so so much for reading!#I still can't believe I finished this book on five hours of sleep

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siimjaeyun · 3 years

Text

Chapter 8: Family Troubles

Synopsis: When two beasts appear in Seoul, destroying buildings and businesses, it might just teach your mystery-solving group a thing or two about relationships, both friendly and family ones.

Series Masterlist

-------

“I must say Mayor Lee, it was a great idea to open a Tiki Place here in Seoul.” Chief Kim commented while sipping on the drink held in his hand.

“Anything for Seoul, and I also applaud you for keeping Seoul criminal free.”

The two men brought their glasses together in a celebratory manner; they sat back comfortably in their seats as they applauded the singer who was on stage performing.

“Thank you everyone for coming tonight, I hope you all had fun.” The female singer bowed down slightly, and a shriek escaped from the guests. She turned and met a giant furry body. The green giant hurled a table to the roof of the restaurant, and proceeded to destroy the surrounding places like the tables and stage.

“Just wonderful.”

-------

“Uh...did I do something wrong?” Heeseung peered through the mirror at the friends who were caught up in avoiding each other's glares.

“Jungwon is upset because Sunoo and Niki went to see a movie without him. Then, Jay and y/n got into a fight last night.” Sunghoon summarized it lighty and yes he was right.

Let’s start with the younger trio shall we. Niki, who had recently moved and joined their friend group, had been warmly welcomed by the duo Sunoo and Jungwon, two tight knit members who were pulled into mysteries by their older friends in middle school. It just so happened that Niki who was the youngest, became so loved by both Jungwon and Sunoo, as well as everyone else. Jungwon was just upset that they couldn’t hang out the three of them instead of choosing partners in their new friend trio.

Now as for you and Jay, that's a lot messier. It all started with your parents coming into the living room and telling Jay that he was prohibited from solving mysteries which to him was unfair considering his twin sister, aka you, were allowed to. Which ended in a battle of jealousy and reliving past trauma.

“Well, maybe a mystery will cheer us up. There was an attack at the Tiki restaurant last night.” Heeseung pulled over, and parked the van near the now shredded sight. An awkward pause settled in and it remained when Sunghoon, Jake, and Heeseung were left staring at their other five friends who kept looking at each other.

Eventually, they got off the van as well. They split, searching for clues and witnessing a man in a blue suit who appeared to be the owner of the construction place.

“Been earning good money I tell you. Sham’s Construction is gonna have to thank these beasts.” The man cackled and introduced himself as Mr.Sham to you.

“At least we know someone is happy.” You whispered sarcastically into Jake’s ear. You went off with Jake, and kept taking photographs of the site, trying to find inconsistencies.

“Chief Kim, do you know what happened?”

“This green giant, who I have decided to call a Humungonaut, came and destroyed the place. You should have seen the damn beast. Powerful.”

“At least there’s only one of them.” Ah, yes, bad luck was definitely in your favor today, seeing as a red colored beast surged from the hair salon on the other block. It picked up a car and flinged it towards the site of rubble from the Tiki place.

“Nice going Jay.”

“Me? Please, save your breath will you sissy.”

“Oh, I’m sorry I didn’t know I wasn’t worthy of being in the same area of the great mighty Jay Park.”

“That’s enough of the both of you.” Sunghoon gave you two a stern look before forcing you into the opposite directions.

“We need to focus on the task here. Be mindful of others guys.” Sunoo tried convincing his friends before Jungwon came up with his own thoughts.

“Now you want to be mindful of others? Must have been good thinking considering you didn’t bother to invite me to your little hangout huh!” Now it was the trio’s turn to start bickering which led to Heeseung dragging them down to his home.

-------

“We need an intervention. We’re not gonna get anywhere if they keep fighting.” Jake sat on the chair with his head resting on the table, before an idea came into his head.

“How about we do an intervention?”

“Like therapy?” The ring of the doorbell intervened in their conversation and Heeseung happily opened the door for Chief Kim who appeared alongside materials for a BBQ.

“I knew we’d need help so I called Chief Kim.”

Clearly, Heeseung was not accurate in seeking the help of Chief Kim, seeing as his only response and solution to your friend issues was, “Maybe you should leave town and go your own ways.”

“The problem here is Sunoo! How dare you hang out with Niki without me!?”

“Because you don’t like horror movies!”

“The real problem here is spelled J-A-Y P-A-R-K who clearly doesn’t believe in his sister!”

“Not everything is about you y/n!”

Another fight broke out in their session which left Heeseung to drop a giant box onto the table to cut their unfriendly conversation.

“How about we use this pent up anger on I don’t know catching two monsters,” he opened the box and gave each member a suit, “this is our new uniform. Hurry before I grab each of you by the ear.”

All of you looked at the uniforms, a dissatisfaction growing on your faces. The white tracksuits were clearly not what you imagined to be Heeseung’s quick solution to your problems .

You arrived at another place that had been attacked, and while all of you appreciated and loved Heeseung with your full hearts, you weren’t a fan of the uniforms. In fact, the moment the team arrived, you all lowered your heads while you investigated the scene.

“Tsk, look who’s here.” Sunghoon nudged you with his elbow and you looked at Mr.Sham who arrived with a giant truck carrying away the rubble that remained.

------

Two signs hung on the side of the road: Bobby Minner Insurance, and right next to it Robby Minner Insurance.

“Is trespassing a construction site really the only answer?” Heeseung ignored Sunoo’s worries and used his bolt cutters to lift the lock up.

“Hurry before we get caught.” All of you split into teams, different ones of course. Your petty fights resulted in avoiding each other at all costs.

Without a warning, one of the beasts appeared once more and Mr.Sham was seen running away from his office building as he managed to escape the explosives that were set from afar.

All of you made your walks in a zigzag pattern, and crashed onto the side of the road with Mr.Sham falling afterwards with you.

“Guess Mr.Sham isn’t the humungonaut.” Jay let out an awkward chuckle before Mr.Sham turned his head to glare at him, but later joined in witnessing how his business had been consumed in flames.

-------

“Looking for insurance? Well, Bobby Minner is the best place to be..” The ad played in the background before a defeated sigh left the mouth of the teen’s in the van.

“This leaves us back at zero.” They crossed their arms and bolted up when the radio began to play a static sound and a voice was heard on the radio.

“Why..hello Mystery Co…” It was JK.

“Since you guys seem to have some hard time figuring this out, let me give you a riddle. Open your ears, and you’ll head the answer. Open your eyes, and pay attention to the signs. The solution will be ensured. Later kids.”

The static once more took over, and the original sound of the radio played again, “Robby Minner’s insurance is the way to go.”

“You know, it would be nice if he just told us the clues straightforwardly.” Niki commented as he rested his head on the seat.

-------

“Dad, come on, this humungonaut is a threat.” Heeseung argued with his father and Chief Kim, who honestly speaking, could care less about his worries.

“We will do something. Chief.” Chief Kim strolled over to the center of the room, setting up his presentation with a portrait.

“Your solution is a bowl of salad?” Sunoo asked sarcastically while staring at the misdrawn image in front of him.

“No! We’re planning to host a humungonaut event: people pay to see them destroy things. Perfect business.”

Clearly, the money and tourism seemed to be the priority.

“This is the best idea, people pay money to see the monster get caught in our trap.” A shocked expression fell upon Heeseung’s face before he slammed his hands on his father’s desk.

“A trap! You’re building a trap without me!? My own father!?” He slightly quivered his lips before hanging his head low as he exited the room. Poor boy had just been heartbroken.

“You’ll get over it,” Mayor Lee stopped mid-way as he finally took in the uniforms on your bodies, “Are you guys going to a costume party?”

Just when it was time for you to leave, all of you responded with a hard “no,” not bothering to explain that it was Heeseung’s idea too.

“That sucks, because you look ridiculous.”

-------

“They’re so stupid, they’re clearly amateurs.” Jake and Sunghoon turned their heads from the computer screen and looked at their oldest friend who was busy using his binoculars to observe the traps set in the stadium.

“GO RED!” “GO GREEN!” In the meantime, Jungwon and Sunoo began swinging at each other with their foam fingers, hurting their other friend Niki in the process.

“Anyway, what have you managed to find?” Both you and Jay looked at the duo who seemed puzzled at the sight and map on their screen.

“Hmm...there’s no clear pattern, but they only attack certain sites and businesses. This humungonaut really is confusing.” Jake responded, slightly leaning towards you.

“It’s even more confusing than JK’s riddles.” Jungwon commented, which left Jake to enter into an aha moment.

“You’re a genius Jungwon. Come on, the humungonaut won’t be here.” Jake took your hand and helped you out of the seats as the other followed behind, leading you to the final destination for these humungonauts.

-------

“Got the plan? When the humungonauts appear, you use the pulley to get them, got it?” The younger trio nodded their heads and took their positions.

It wasn’t long before the humungonauts appeared at the boat warehouse: a place where Jake had led all of you as well.

When the two beats caught sight of each other, they immediately grabbed each other by the necks. Their large size caused the floor under you to shake violently, and they broke through a couple boats before finally rolling into the small pool of water inside a building.

“Pull!” The net pulled them upward and the two beats collapsed tiredly onto each other in the buddle of the net.

“It worked?” Sunghoon was surprised that his trap worked so efficiently the first time given their long history.

“Good thing those tickets were non-refundable.” Mayor Lee and Chief Kim came walking towards them and were startled by the beasts.

“Your trap actually worked?”

“Hey, don’t act too surprised.” Heeseung crossed his arms and saw as Jake pulled a staircase towards the two giants.

“Hello creatures, I would like to welcome you to our humble earth planet.” Chief Kim began his long-winded speech before Jake finally managed to reach the top.

“Sorry to disappoint Chief Kim, but these are no monsters at all. It’s Robby and Bobby Minner.” He pulled on the masks and the Minner twins were right underneath.

“But how did you know Jake?”

“Remember JK’s riddle, I just had to place these businesses under each of their insurances.” The rest of you looked confused, and settled your sights on the brothers who were peaking through the mesh.

“That’s right. Our rivalry began since our circus days as strong men. We were always a duo, but one day he just left the team and joined a rival circus. Who would have known we would join the insurance business? We used the costumes to destroy each other’s business and get revenge.” Robby Minner gave a pause before his brother looked at him, “and we would have would have gotten away with it too, if it wasn’t for my meddling brother!” The twins yelled the phrase at the same time before fighting with each other again. Chief Kim and others had arrived to take them away.

“Guys, that was great team work!” Heeseung exclaimed happily before you all looked at each other.

“Sunoo, we’re sorry we didn’t invite you. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

“I’m sorry too.” Sunoo and Jungwon joined each other into a hug before welcoming Niki to join.

You sighed and looked at Jay.

“I’m sorry for hurting you. Seeing those twins really made me think that I don’t want to hate or resent you in a few years. Sometimes I get jealous of how perfect you are, but it doesn’t give me a right to be mean with you.”

“No, I’m also sorry. Truth is, I’m jealous that mom and dad give you so much freedom, and you still do well in school. I guess the stress got to me, and I’m sorry for putting you in a situation like that.” Now it was your turn to give Jay a hug.

“I’m so glad this is settled, see? All we need is our strong bond.” Heeseung smiled warmly at his friends before Sunghoon lifted one of his eyebrows.

“Does this mean we also don’t need uniforms?”

“I guess not.” Heeseung did not even complete his sentence before seeing as his friends took off the tracksuits and tossed them into the van.

“We love you Heeseung, but maybe we should just keep the name of Mystery Co.” You comforted him and all of you took a seat by the deck. The stars glistened in the dark, and it left you to enjoy the peaceful moment with the people you loved the most.

--------

Next- Chapter 9: Vampires and Prison Visits

Tag List: @softkons @nikisboxysmile

(send an ask to join the taglist!)

#enhypen #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #heeseung #heeseung imagines #jake imagines #jungwon #niki #sunghoon #jay #enhypen jake #enhypen jay

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spinda-draws · 3 years

Text

Digit-Glitched (1/3)

Synopsis: While Dr. Marbles is away, Digit starts to glitch. When things get more serious, the cybersquad is called on to help. Unfortunately, the only one who can perform repairs is... Hacker.

A/n: This is a story that’s already on FF. net but I thought I’d post it here too because I have a tendency to spontaneously delete the stories on that account. the ending to this one is a little anti climatic, but I hope you like it anyways.

"Looks like your cooling system is in tip-top shape, Motherboard!" Digit cried, excitedly circling the lobby of Control Central. Whether it was a healthy concern for her wellbeing or the result of a paralyzing anxiety, their daily inspections always gave Digit the jitters. Ever since Hacker had infected her with the virus, Digit had been on top of tune ups and meticulously kept track of her numbers. He landed underneath the giant monitor and picked up a pencil.

"Your cyroxide pressure is 120 over 80," he said, jointing the number down in a notepad the way Doc had taught him. It had been months since he'd seen or heard from Motherboard's head technician who had left him to hold down the fort while he traveled to the far reaches of the cyberuniverse, looking for a new way to cure Motherboard now that the encryptor chip was gone for good. Before he'd left, he'd instructed Digit on all the basics of Motherboard's day to day maintenance. It used to be there was a small team of technicians that would come fill in when things got busy or the Doc was needed elsewhere, but those days were long gone, and only a very select few were even allowed to step foot in Control Central.

"Time to close the hatch." The cyboid hopped over to the exposed machines and picked up the lid. He pointed his beak at one of the bolts, but instead of a screwdriver, it transformed into drill. "Yoiks!" He leapt, quickly pointing his spinning beak away before it damaged any of Motherboard's circuits. He held it in his wing until it stopped moving, then tried to force it manually.

"Digit? Are you... alright?"

"Never been better!" the cyboid cried as his peak turned into a fork. "That's not it..."

The leader of cyberspace eyed him with maternal affection broken by periodic bouts of static. She'd had always had a soft spot for the little cyboid, and their friendship had only grown now that they just had each other for company. She was protective of him, as much as she could be having no physical body. "I'll send... a message... for Dr. Marbles to return... as soon as possible."

"What? I'm fine. See?" Digit said, showing off his disfigured appendage. He seemed to realize his act was unconvincing and continued trying to twist it back into shape. "There's no reason to get the Doc all worked up over me." The sound of Motherboard's message sent alert told him she'd disregarded his protests.

He furrowed his brow, embarrassed to have caused the trouble. When the Doc had left, Digit had promised himself to do everything perfectly so the technician could focus on his mission. Now he'd have to put things on hold. "I guess we gotta look out for each other now that it's just us, eh?" he chuckled. Despite his reluctance, Digit's beak had been acting up more than usual lately. Maybe it wouldn't be a terrible idea to have the Doc look it over.

It wasn't as if he thought lowly of himself, far from it in fact. But he was an honest boid who could acknowledge he was far from a perfect piece of hardware. The borg who had created him had been far from perfect too. A younger Hacker who had been sloppy with his work at the best of times according to Dr. Marbles. And it didn't seemed like he'd changed much with age. The Doc had made some attempt to improve Digit's functions over the years, but the changes he was able to make were limited without complete systems knowledge. That knowledge unfortunately existed only with Hacker.

"Thanks, Motherb-b-ba, M-motherboard," the cyboid stuttered without seeming to register it. There was a pause as Motherboard's concern heightened. She watched as Digit look at the cooling unit and set the lid back down. "120 over 80. Looking good as usual."

"Are you... sure you're feeling alright?"

"Never better," the boid said as he went to jot down the number again. He stared at the notebook and his brow knotted in confusion. "That can't be right." He stared at the note he'd made earlier, trying to put the pieces together before Motherboard interrupted him.

"Digit. I think it would be best... if you powered down... until Dr. Marbles returns."

Digit shuffled his wings together nervously, shutting the notebook. "No. I'm okay, really," he tried to assure her. Anything but having to shut down. What if something happened to Motherboard while he was in stasis? "Maybe I'll just go sit for a while." He adjusted his hat, trying to appear dignified as possible. "Tomorrow I'll be as good as new!"

II.

Jackie gave the pyramid shaped container a pat. Though she recognized him by his chest hatch, was hard to think of the inanimate box on the ground as the lovable cyboid when the rest of his usual features weren't present. Motherboard had summoned the three of them shortly after Digit went into stasis. It was the first time she'd done so in the evening hours, catching Jackie just as she'd finished doing the dishes. Though a bit sleepy, she was more than happy to be there for a friend in need. A glance at her two companions told her they were finding it all as hard to swallow as she was. Digit's head, legs, wings and even the propeller on his tail had withdrawn, leaving behind the chest compartment which only held what one would expect to find in a toolbox. Inez was sat beside her while Matt was leaning against one of the machines.

"If we waited for Dr. Marbles to get back, would he be able to fix him?" he asked.

"Might be... too late..." Motherboard replied, through a static cloud. "Malfunction... not normal." The three kids glanced at each other, each engaged in their own nervous quirks. Inez adjusting her glasses, Matt playing with his yo-yo and Jackie rubbing her nails to avoid biting them. She felt Inez's hand quickly brush against her's as she reached for Digit, stroking him gently with her fingers as if petting a cat.

"What do you mean, Mother B?" Jackie said, breaking the silence.

"Data decay... data decaying fast. If not fixed soon... damage will be great."

"But that means he'll lose his memories. Forget you, forget all of us!" she cried, becoming animated. "Forget how to be... Digit!"

"There has to be something we can do," Inez said, her arms folded fearfully over her chest. "Isn't there another technician or mechanic in Cyberspace who will know how to fix him?"

"Digit can only be fixed... the one who... created him."

"You don't mean," Matt shuddered.

"Hacker."

Jackie felt a hardened pit forming in her throat. She swallowed but it wouldn't go away. Hacker? He was their only hope of curing Digit? If Hacker ever got his hands on Digit— She stopped herself from verbalizing the thought, even inside her own head. Digit had told them his history with Hacker and how the villain still seemed to actively resent being betrayed.

"No way. If Hacker does anything it'll be make things worse," Matt declared. "I wouldn't trust him in a million years."

"We should bring him to Coop," Inez suggested. "Didn't he and Hacker used to work together? He has to know something about Digit's systems. Right, Motherboard?"

"Worth... a try." They could see she had been as reluctant about going to her old enemy for help as the rest of them. The suggestion seemed to cause her to ponder.

"Good idea, Inez," Matt nodded. "We can take the coupe." He put away his yo-yo and got down on his knees. Jackie rushed to help him and the two heaved Digit up into their arms. "Never realized he was so heavy," Matt chuckled, balancing the boid on one knee. They carried Digit into the hangar and set him down in the backseat. Jackie got in to drive while Inez clutched Digit in her lap, putting the seatbelt around both of them.

"Portal us through to Radopolis, Motherboard."

III.

Seeing Radopolis in the dark was a whole new experience and Jackie wished she had more time to enjoy it. Even at night the Radsters didn't seem to rest from their board tricks and parties, and the colorful lights they used to pave their roads gave the site an energizing glow.

Luckily Coop was home when they knocked on his door. He emerge in his pajamas with a cup of coffee in one hand. "Cybersquad. What can I do for Motherboard tonight?" Before anyone could reply, he spotted Digit in Matt's arms and opened the door wider for them to come in.

Matt set Digit down on the kitchen table and dropped into a chair, his arms aching from the weight. The three of them took turns catching the mechanic up as Coop gave Digit the once over. Jackie felt herself tense up again as Coop listened to their story and at the end shook his head.

"That doesn't sound good. If his data is decaying you won't have more than twelve hours before his drives are irreparably damaged." He picked Digit up and tucked him under one arm. "Come with me." He led the trio into the garage attached to the house and set Digit down in a machine that shone a blue light over him. "We use this to do diagnostics," he explained, watching the monitor closely.

A green bar appeared on the screen and dropped from 99% to 98% after a few seconds. Coop flipped through several screens of data his eyes darting back and forth like a ping pong ball. "I can't read any of this." He hung his head and let out a bitter defeated chuckle. "Hacker must have use his own programing language to script this. He always tried to be pointlessly flashy with his work. Usually it just annoyed anyone who tried to work with him. It must have taken Dr. Marbles months to decipher enough to make upgrades."

"There'll be time for nostalgia later," Matt said. "Do you think you could fix him?"

Coop shook his head. "It wouldn't be possible unless I had the manual for his script." He turned back to the monitor and tapped a few buttons. "But I can store some of his more recent memories into a backup file. That should at least buy you a little time to find Dr. Marbles." He handed Inez a miniature floppy.

"A week?" she asked, gingerly pocketing the disk.

"A few hours at best."

"No, no, no! There has to be someone else who can fix him," Jackie cried. "Otherwise... otherwise..."

"We're going to have to ask..."

"Hacker," Matt spat.

"We need to start thinking of a plan," Inez said, pulling up a sandbag and using it to get into a headstand. "We can't waste any more time trying to find people who might not be able to help. There has to be a way to get Hacker to fix Digit without putting any of us or Motherboard in danger." Jackie started pacing while Matt just watched the two of them, his mouth agape.

"Guys. You're not seriously thinking about asking Hacker? Hacker! How many times has he double crossed us already?"

Jackie pursed her lips. They could all remember when they had been more naïve about Hacker's lack of principles and had helped him out of jail in Sensible Flats in exchange for the cure to Motherboard's virus. The "cure" had barely lasted 24 hours before failing, leaving Motherboard no better off than before. But their closest call had been when he'd come directly to Control Central on one of the few days visitors were still allowed and nearly destroyed Motherboard with a mutant robot frog.

"We're not talking about trusting him, Matt," Inez said. "We'll need to take every precaution. Making sure he doesn't try anything funny, and doesn't try to pull a fast one on us or Motherboard."

"How are we going to do that?" Matt folded his arms, still too angered by the idea to think properly. Even the idea of having to ask Hacker for help made him clench his jaw tight.

As the trio fell deep into thought, Coop glanced between them with a little glint in his eye. "Luckily for you guys, I happen to know a weakness of our mutual acquaintance." He burst into laughter, licking his lips in anticipation. "You're going to love this."

IV.

"I think it's stuck," Inez hissed, her eyes wild and panic stricken.

"Keep pulling. Before he wakes up!" Jackie urged, running over to help her. They'd set up a rope and spool in the garden of Control Central and had succeeded in getting it to do several turns around the mechanism. But now it seemed what the hook had taut against was too heavy. "We just need to get him through the portal. Matt, go through to the other side and push, but be careful!"

"Got it!" Matt cried, running through the portal. A moment later, the foot end of a king sized bed came through the portal into the garden. Jackie dropped the rope and started pulling at the footboard itself.

"Just a little more!" Jackie fought back the urge to scream with delight as Matt came back through with the front of the bed. "Quick. We gotta get out before he wakes up." She shoved her friends out the greenhouse's sliding doors before quickly locking down the glass dome. The trio crowded around the security feed, hearts racing but none quite sure exactly what to do next.

"I can't believe we did that! I can't wait to see his face when he realizes where he is," Matt snorted. "Should we tell him over the speaker? Can either of you do an Ivanka impersonation?"

"Matt," Inez cried, though she was holding back her own laughter. "Digit needs us. We have to focus."

"Okay guys, huddle." Jackie put her arms around her friend's shoulders as they all fought their little smirks.

They had actually done it. Kidnapped Hacker. Coop's idea had been absolutely brilliant and it had made all of them, especially Matt, look up to him more than they already did. From the security feed, they could see the borg snoring away in bed. He was obviously not a light sleeper after all the noise they'd made getting him here.

"We're all going to have to play nice, like it or not," Jackie continued. "Digit's safety and Mother B's matter most here so we don't want to tempt him to try something behind our backs."

Matt and Inez nodded. "I shut the vents so a long as the garden door stays shut the whole time, he'll never get to Motherboard," the bespectacled girl added.

"If we get done before morning, Buzz and Delete won't even realize their boss is gone so we don't have to worry about a surprise visit from the Wrecker," Matt finished. "We got this, Jax."

Their bonding moment was interrupted by a sound from the garden. Turning to the security cameras they could see Hacker yelling obscenities and shaking his fist at the camera. "You impudent Earth-brats dare to kidnap THE HACKER?! Just wait till I get my hands on you, I'll make you rue the day our paths ever crossed!"

"Maybe we should wait for him to calm down first," Inez suggested. "On the other hand, that might be never."

"Come on," Jackie said, taking her friend by the arm. "Stay close to each other, and remember to stand your ground."

The three friends each got on one side of toolbox-Digit and lifted, entering back through the sliding doors with as much stoicism they could muster. They were far from an imposing force, but either was their adversary at the moment. Though the expression he wore was one of murderous rage, any fear he might have provoked was dampened by the sight of him in mauve footie pajamas.

"We have a proposal for you, Hacker." Matt was the first to speak as they set the inactive cyboid down in front of him. Jackie made sure to block Digit with her foot, stopping the cyber-villain from getting to him without passing her first. Hacker's anger seemed to subside when he recognized his creation sat lifelessly on the floor. It was replaced quickly however with a self-satisfied sneer comparable only to the face of a weasel.

"It's THE Hacker to you irksome earth-brats. Did that supercilious cyberturkey finally kick the can?" he laughed. "I hope you're not looking for my sympathy. About time, I'd say."

It took every bit of self control in Jackie's body not to give the cyborg a hard kick in the shins. Hacker was already the lowest of the low in her books, but it still baffled her how the person who created Digit could think to talk like that. The only thing that forced her to restrain herself was the need for the cyborg's cooperation.

"His data is decaying and you're going to fix him," she interjected, jabbing her finger at him as she spoke. "All the doors are locked. We've got you trapped. If Digit isn't fixed, you're not leaving."

"WHAT?!" Hacker smacked her hand away and clenched his hands into fists. "You think you can give me orders? If his data's decaying, he'll be nothing by a hunk of metal in a few hours."

"And so will you without a recharge." Inez had delivered their trump card. She watched the villain's face fall as the realization of his predicament dawned on him. His mouth hung agape as he stared at his adolescent rivals. Jackie smiled.

"So what's it going to be, Hacker?"

#my writing #cyberchase

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primatechnosynthpop · 3 years

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Oh yeah just remembered several weeks ago I jotted this down in the notes app on my phone. Not really developed enough to warrant posting on any fanfiction websites or whatever but I guess I may as well share it here

The old manor across the street from the arcade has been haunted for decades. The groundskeeper knows this all too well, for reasons he prefers not to share, especially because nobody ever listens when he tells them. But he really did try to warn those kids.

The morning after three young men waltzed into the manor against his warnings, two of those young men ran out, screaming at the top of their lungs. Cooper couldn't say he didn't feel bad. But he had tried to warn them, and what did they do? Just went right on in anyway.

Later the following day, once the kids have long since left the vicinity, he takes a look around the manor to clean up whatever remains the ghoul may have left behind from its latest victim. Sure enough, it doesn't take long for him to find a body: eyes torn out; skewered by tentacles in several places; innards partially consumed. Scattered next to the corpse are several of Cooper's belongings. Seems like this guy had been trying to steal... maybe planning to commit identity theft? Well, whatever his motivations were, it's too late to ask him now. Cooper bags the body, drags it outside, and gets to burying it.

A couple hours later, the two kids who got away show back up. They look real skittish, especially the skinny one with the glasses, but they manage to stammer through an inquiry as to whether their friend "made it out okay". They refer to him by name, and say a whole bunch of stuff about who they are and what they were doing there the night before, but it all kind of goes in one ear and out the other-- in part because the two young guys talk over each other a bit, and in part because, hell, it's not like it matters. Cooper, no longer able to muster much sympathy after learning these punks tried to steal from him, leads them over to the newest "grave" on the property, hands them a shovel, and tells them to start digging.

As he's walking away, he overhears one of them saying to the other, "is he saying Kevin escaped using a secret network of underground tunnels?" The other guy offers an equally chipper comment in return. He can't tell whether they're deep in the denial stage of grief, or just complete idiots. Either way, they aren't looking so chipper when they trudge off his property about half an hour later. Cooper watches them from the window and thinks, good riddance. Hopefully they'll spread the word around, and people will actually listen for once, and stop walking into their deaths in this house.

It isn't until several days later, when Cooper is out mowing the lawn, that he notices a change in the air. By now, he's so used to sudden chills running through his body and the like that he barely registers it at all. But this is a new sensation. It's more like getting zapped or burnt. He looks behind him, and rather than the ghoul's familiar skeletal grin, sees the translucent but well-defined and largely humanoid figure of a man standing there and glaring at him with eyes that are big patches of static.

Well, that's a new one. But after living with one malevolent spirit for nearly forty years, Cooper isn't gonna be too freaked out by the appearance of another. Hell, this isn't even the first time this has happened recently. Other ghosts, ghouls, and spirits come and go from this place all the time. Why, just a few weeks ago the temperamental spirit of some real nasty-looking guy about this punk's age wandered through the property before settling down at the arcade across the road. So he just shrugs and goes back to his groundskeeper duties.

This new ghost proves not to be much of a threat. It seems to do a lot of macho posturing without ever really attacking Cooper like it means it. Most of the time, it's out of sight and out of mind, to the point where Cooper keeps assuming it's moved on after going a day or two without seeing it, only to be mildly surprised when he sees it again, rattling the doors of his old pickup truck or going through his gardening tools or just generally wandering around and groaning to itself.

He can always tell when the two spirits run into each other, because what follows is a cacophony of moaning and screaming that can be heard from any corner of the house. It's nothing he hasn't heard a million times before, but it's so loud and incessant that it keeps him up at night, like a dog barking or a car alarm going off outside. The ghoul never did get along very well with its victims' spirits. It starts getting annoying after a while.

Eventually, Cooper starts looking for a way to put this young ghost's soul at ease just so it'll stop making a racket. The next time he catches it rifling through his gardening supplies, he doesn't stop it or shoo it away. He lets it grab his hoe and his spare shovel, and then, out of mild curiosity and the lack of anything better to do, tags along from a safe distance to see what it does with them.

As it turns out, this ghost has lofty ambitions.

It tracks down the ghoul that killed it and thrusts the blade of the hoe into it, over and over. The ghoul lashes its tentacles, but each time it touches the other ghost it recoils as though from an electric shock. Watching this, Cooper almost feels sorry for the old ghoul. It's been in charge here for so long, but (perhaps by pure luck) this newcomer seems to have figured out its one weakness. As the one-sided battle progresses, the ghoul's tentacles are lopped off one by one, eventually leaving it defenseless. From there, it doesn't take long until it's completely pulverized. You can't kill a supernatural being with an ordinary weapon, from what Cooper knows, but you sure can destroy it. And sometimes being destroyed is worse than being killed.

Oh, but the ghoul will reassemble itself in time, once it recovers enough energy. Again, it's not like this is the first time any of this has happened. This other ghost doesn't have to know that, though-- let it think that its unfinished business is now finished, so it can go away. It turns and walks outside, and Cooper runs to the window to watch it leave.

But it doesn't leave.

In fact, it wanders across the property, shovel in hand, to the patch of upturned soil where Cooper buried the body. He realizes what it's trying to do as it starts digging, and despite everything, he almost starts feeling bad for it again. He goes outside and watches it dig for a while before speaking up.

"That won't work. There's nothing there." The ghost turns to stare at him with those big patches of static where its eyes should be, and Cooper crosses his arms. "Your little friends came by and dug up your body. It's gone now."

The ghost emits a reproachful moan. It drops the shovel and stomps on the ground. Then, with a shake of its head that sends little sparks of energy flying off it like water droplets off a wet dog when it shakes itself, it turns and shuffles away.

Cooper never sees that particular ghost again, and never thinks much of it again, either. There are always new supernatural happenings to be dealt with in this house. No need to get hung up on one guy in particular just because he was a would-be thief or died young or tried to fight the ghoul. He wasn't the first to fit any of those descriptors, and he wouldn't be the last.

It's not until many years later that he sees those three young men again, traipsing down the sidewalk toward the arcade across the road. So many people are coming and going to and from the arcade that day that he barely even notices. By the time it sinks in that it's definitely the same guys, and definitely all three of them, the arcade doors have already closed behind them and he can't look again to double-check. But Cooper knows what he saw, or thinks he does. He never finds out how or why, and frankly, he doesn't care. Whatever happened with that guy in the plaid shirt, it didn't break the cycle of paranormal events on Cooper's property.

Only... after that busy day at the arcade, new ghosts stop showing up, even when people visit his manor and meet their ends. And then one day, people stop meeting their end there altogether. He wakes up one day, almost another full year after the fact, and realizes that he hasn't seen the ghoul in months.

It's like there was some kind of portal open all this time, and now for whatever reason it's closed-- maybe whoever was keeping it open is gone now? Whatever. Cooper has no way of knowing, and he doesn't really care to find out. The point is, it seems like this property is all his now. It's almost lonely, in an odd way, without any spirits wandering around. Gradually, people stop dropping by so often. He should be glad to finally be left alone, but...

Ah, forget about it. Whatever happened with those kids, he still doesn't care, and he's sure as hell not gonna seek them out to express his gratitude to them for seemingly indirectly exorcising his house. He's an old man, after all, without many years left in him. And whatever years remain of his life, he intends to spend them continuing to work as a groundskeeper.

#this is kinda... not cerebral per se but it sorta relies upon some implied bits of lore that aren't explicitly suggested by the text itself #hey did you know that i write stuff sometimes?

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cecilspeaks · 4 years

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168 - Secret Blotter

Life is 10 per cent what happens to you And 90 per cent false memories of what you think happened to you. Welcome to Night Vale.

In an effort to bring more transparency to the Sheriff’s Secret Police, a chronicle of one night’s dispatches will be released to the public. This action comes at the behest of the City Council, who voted unanimously on a resolution to ban plastic bags.

Now, OK, while those two things may not seem related, Sheriff Sam misunderstood the vote as a rallying cry against tyrannical surveillance and a personal threat, involving being thrown to the pit of vipers behind the bowling alley. Sheriff Sam, who has a paralyzing fear of vipers, proposed a compromise in which Secret Police dispatches would be temporarily divulged, so the public can get a better idea of what agency does and how tax dollars are being spent. A plan which was readily accepted by the Council, though they continued to roll their eyes and gnash their teeth and chant softly: [creepy voice] “Viper pit! Viper pit! Blessed be the viper pit!” Which is just how they express a “yay” vote on procedural issues.

As a result, Night Vale has its first ever police blotter. Let’s dig in. 9 o’clock PM. Missing person reported inside the Ralphs. Night manager on duty says employee went to stock some cases of Lime-A-Ritas in the new walk-in beer cave and never came out. Reporting officer thoroughly checked beer cave and confirmed it was deserted. Three cases of the beverage were left haphazardly in the middle of the floor, and a loading dolly had tipped over onto its side. Manager states employee originally brought in four cases. Manager added one missing case of Lime-A-Ritas to the report. When asked if this kind of thing has happened before, manager changed subject and asked if officer would like to look at some of the children’s drawing contest submissions. Officer was amenable to this request.

9:16 PM. Noise complaint. Dog barking in an unknown language annoying residents. Dirty white fur, human face. Gone when officer arrived on scene.

9:25 PM. Two underage residents attempted to sneak into an R-rated movie by pretending to be one tall person in a trench coat. When confronted by officer, they turned into a swarm of flies and dispersed.

10:01 PM. Noise complaint. A sound resembling television static was being emitted from a shower drain out in the Hefty Sycamore trailer park. When recorded and played backwards, it turned out to be a broadcast from a 1952 episode of the game show “Beat the Clock”, where contestants competed to see how many pieces they could smash a clock into. A plumber was called.

10:15 PM. A resident of Desert Creek searched for “easy tortellini recipes”, but none of them were easy enough. It was so late already, and they needed to get to bed soon, but they were also very hungry and needed to eat dinner first. They wanted something quick, but they also wanted a real dinner, not a false dinner like… cereal? They became hyperaware that the more they deliberated on what to make, the longer it was all taking. And factoring in the decision-making time on top of the meal prep time was becoming additionally stressful in relation to the desire to get to bed soon.

11:30 PM. A Coyote Corner’s swimming pool filled with blood and began swirling furiously in a counter-clockwise direction. Home owner appeared distressed. Officer advised home owner to drain pool.

11:31 PM. Multiple residents awoke in a cold sweat from the same dream. It wasn’t necessarily a nightmare, but it was definitely not pleasant. The only thing they could recall afterwards was that it was showing, and that there was a tree with seven limbs.

12:00 AM. Witches.

2:00 AM. That time of night when everything starts getting hazy. Were you headed to a crime? Checking a surveillance station? Listening to a wiretap? Going home? Returning to headquarters? Signalling an invisible helicopter? Sometimes you lose track. An old local legend comes into your mind, and you try to recall the details. It’s been so long since you heard it. You watch the headlights bounce along the dirt road ahead, and your eyes begin to play tricks on you, sensing movement in the dark margins where the light doesn’t penetrate. You turn off the lights and slow the vehicle. They weren’t tricks after all. There is movement here, a dark writhing mass entering the roadway. You are forced to stop the car. Eyes flesh open in the dark. Many sets of eyes. This isn’t part of a half-remembered legend. This is something very, very real.

More of the blotter soon. But first, let’s have a look at traffic. You’re hunting in a pack near the Old Highway. The smell of blood is in the air. Headlights bounce over the rise and your stomachs rumble. The moon flees behind the clouds and you fan out, along both sides of the road, moving parallel to it like a lazy river. The car approaches and slows. It shuts off its headlights, as you knew it would. Some of you push ahead to the car, blocking its path. Others move to the rear and others remain at the sides boxing it in. You converge, surrounding it more tightly the door opens, then closes again, the fleshy creature inside cursing softly. You hear a crackle of radio static, but you know it is inconsequential to you. You consume the metal shell first. There are explosions of air and the hiss of leaking fluids. Then the glass, crunchy and cool in your collective gullet. And finally, the screaming delicacy in the center, the cloth-wrapped package of meat and bone. There are other things afterward, less enjoyable, but consumable nonetheless. Papers and electronics, and the pleather, and cold French fries in the back. Nothing must remain. By the time the moon emerges from the clouds, the old highway will be deserted once more. This has been traffic.

And now a word from our sponsors. Today’s show is brought to you by TickTock. The only app that tells you exactly how long you have left to live. The sleek countdown display synchs easily with all of your devices, so that you can check your mortality at a glance. The premium edition provides additional details, such as manner and location of death, and updates to the minute, as you make different choices throughout your day. You’ll find yourself asking questions like, why did returning a library book just subtract 4 years from my life? How did leaving late for work change my final outcome from drowning in gulch to birds of prey? Why does it say “tomorrow” all of a sudden? [panicking] It must be some kind of glitch, right? OK, OK, I’ve updated the app but it still hasn’t changed. It still says “tomorrow”. I just got checked out by a doctor and they said I’m in great shape, I’m staying home from work, I’m not answering the door, I’ve closed the blinds and I’m sitting on the couch, surrounded by pillows, not moving, not even blinking, I’ve done everything dammit, EVERYTHING!!! WHY DOES IT STILL SAY “TOMORROW”???!! Tick tock. Tick tock. Tick tock. This has been a word from our sponsors.

Back to the Sheriff’s Secret Police blotter. 2:30 AM. Responded to an officer distress call on the Old Highway. No sign of officer or vehicle found. Must have been a false alarm.

3:15 AM. Nude man ranting in middle of old highway, carrying a case of alcoholic beverages. Identified as the night shift stocker at the Ralphs. Claims he entered the walk-in refrigerator at work, reached up to place the case of beverages on the shelf, and abruptly found himself in a network of ice caves. He eventually climbed up a snowy mountain where he met a robed figure he refers to as “The Oracle”. “The Oracle” foretold of a hungry darkness with a thousand eyes and urged that the portal must be cloooosed. The Ralphs employee also reported that “The Oracle” had slurred speech and seemed unsteady on its feet, and may have been inebriated. After this exchange, he then found himself standing in the Sand Wastes nude. He does not know where his clothes are. Officer escorted man back to the Ralphs to finish out his shift.

3:35 AM. Domestic disturbance. “He won’t stop practicing the flute!” a Cactus Bloom resident reported, indicating his dopplegänger who stood in the corner of the bedroom, staring unblinkingly at the wall and playing the same halting scale on a wooden flute. Officer advised resident to take a melatonin and try to get some sleep. “If he doesn’t stop, I can’t be held responsible!” the sleep-deprived resident threatened. “Sounds fair,” the officer agreed and left the premises.

4:00 AM. An alarm clock went off in Old Town. A woman attempted to get out of bed, but her cat walked sleepily onto her person and began purring, preventing her from rising. Her cat is elderly and the woman knows its number of purrs are finite and must be honored. Eventually, she put on coffee and took a shower. She used Herbal Solution shampoo for a lifelong dandruff condition, though she has not seen any improvement after years of using the products. She continues using it, because she likes the way it smells. It smells medicinal, like it’s helping, and it does tingle, like the label promises. The tingle means it’s working, the label says. So it must be working.

And now a break form the police blotter for some sports news. Night Vale High School – go Scorpions! – has added a concession stand to be used during sporting events. The parent-teacher association proudly unveiled the new stand at last week’s baseball game, dedicating the plywood structure to the memory of favorite AP auto shop teacher, Nick Teller. Teller reacted with confusion at this news, as he is still alive. “Oh, of co-, no, of course you are,” the PTA responded awkwardly, “but we just wanted to honor – your memory, as in what a great memory you have. You-you know how you’re really good at remembering stuff? We just wanted to, yeah uh, honor that,” the PTA went on, seemingly unable to stop explaining themselves, whilst standing in front of the dedication plaque, which featured several doves, a Celtic cross, and an image of clasped hands. Teller admitted he does have an excellent memory and is very honored. The following concessions are available at the Teller memorial stand: Special allowances, the granting of rights, the acceptance of certain things as truth, the yielding of certain other things as untruth. Also, RC Cola and popcorn.

Oh, which reminds me, we actually have another word from our sponsor, Royal Crown Cola. Invented by Ferdinand the 1st, king of Naples, who built a museum of mummies inside his palace to house the bodies of his slain enemies. “I am parched from building this museum of mummies,” he famously said, and the rest is history. RC Cola – the drink of ruthless monarchs.

In local news, I have the results of the Ralphs drawing contest. Local school children were encouraged to submit a drawing to the store this week, depicting their favorite Ralphs product. I’ll start with the runners up. The third place drawing comes to us from Ella Snider, a student from Night Vale Elementary, and it shows a large black scribbled mass with a lot of eyes on it, with the Ralphs building on fire in the background. Very creative, Ella!

The second place drawing comes from Jace McCoy, also from Night Vale Elementary, and this one also shows a black mass with many eyes and a big bright red splatter of blood across the page. Nice use of color, Jace!

And the grand price winner comes to us from Heather (Fathusam) [0:16:52] of Daggers Plunge Charter School. Her drawing features a beautiful black mass with lots of lovely eyes, and it’s holding a box of store brand frozen pizza rolls. Congratulations, Heather!

Back to the blotter. 4:01 AM. Distress call from the Ralphs. Upon arrival, officer was pulled into the manager’s office. The employee from the earlier incident was also present, huddled under a desk. Manager frantically indicated the surveillance window that looks out into the store, which he normally uses to spy on shoppers and report on what they are wearing for his Customer Fashion newsletter. Shelves of products were being knocked over and consumed by a vast dark nothingness. The back of the store then burst into flames. The manager implored the officer to quote, “Do something, please, or we’ll all be killed!” Officer used the intercom system to tell the nothingness to vacate the store immediately, and advised it of trespass and vandalism laws. The nothingness took the form of many dark shapes with many eyes. A tank of fresh seafood exploded and numerous shellfish were damaged. Officer advised the shapes that they were all under arrest. “Stop talking to it!” the manager cried and knocked the intercom mic out of the officer’s hand. Approximately 1000 eyes turned to look at the office window. Interesting. Well.

Let’s have a look at that weather.

[“Best Friends” by Curtains: https://curtains.bandcamp.com/]

4:35 AM. Situation escalated at the Ralphs. Officer, manager and employee embraced one another under the office desk amid the shattered glass of the surveillance window. The building trembled around them, products flew through the air, half the inventory was sucked into oblivion, and a great fire blazed, spreading to the bakery section. After doing an estimated 200,000 dollars worth of damage, the darkness and its many eyes entered the beer cave and did not come back out. Officer investigated the beer cave and found it to be empty. “You have to shut down the cave!” the Ralphs employee implored the manager. “That’s its doorway to our world!” The manager hedged and responded that a big heat wave was coming and if they hoped to recoup any of their losses, keeping the beer cave open was going to be instrumental to the store’s survival. “People will spend big on frosty cold beverages,” the manager responded. “Not to mention they’re gonna like standing around in there for a nice cool-down.” The employee wrapped his robe tightly around himself. Oh, the manager had lent him the robe, one of the many fashion items the manager kept in his collection, since the employee still didn’t know where his clothes had gone. “OK,” the employee said. He picked up a Lime-A-Rita and guzzled it down in one continuous gulp. Then he said, his voice already a little slurred: “I’ll have to try to shhhhtop it myself.” He ran into the beer cave and promptly vanished.

5:40 AM. Tree with seven limbs seen growing out of a hole in the vacant lot out back of the Ralphs. Snow observed on the branches, which melted off quickly as the sun rose.

5:45 AM. Real pretty sunrise.

Well, that concludes our Secret Police blotter. I dunno about the rest of you, but I personally feel a lot more safe and secure getting a closer look at what our Secret Police do. On behalf of Night Vale Community Radio, thank you for your service. I’m sure we will all rest a lot easier knowing that our fate is in your hands. Our sleeping bodies are under your watchful eye, and our every thought and action is being monitored for the greater good. As Secret Police mascot Barks Ennui always says: Stay tuned, stay, vigilant, report your neighbors. Woof. Woof.

Good night, Night Vale, Good night.

Today’s proverb: Six out of seven dentists have no idea where that seventh one disappeared to. Honest, they all have rock solid alibis and that blood could have belonged to anyone.

#welcome to night vale #wtnv #wtnv transcripts #episode 168 #secret blotter

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mail-me-a-snail · 4 years

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Sobriety

Chase Brody has been doing everything to combat his alcoholism; going to AA, therapy, being social, exercising...and yet it still isn’t enough. One afternoon, a year after his divorce, Jackie drives him home. tw: alcoholism, panic attacks, car accident ment, suicide ment.

"So, how was it?"

Chase shrugs, both to slide his backpack off and to answer. He puts the bag in the backseat, then twists back around to buckle himself in. Jackie, mask off and in a plain red hoodie and worn jeans, as opposed to his jumpsuit, sits in the driver's seat, fingers drumming against the wheel in sync with whatever metal is playing on the stereo, Chase doesn't know—he's too tired to go through the challenge of deciphering the lyrics. The chaotic banging of drums and rippling guitar riffs about sum up the state his head's at.

"It was fine," he says coolly, "I guess. Todd brought his guitar this time." Todd—Todd Danvers—being the head of the group. Great guy, might've made it as a part of the church ensemble, if he hadn't drunken so much wine like every meal was communion. Washed his face in the tub of holy water they have at the door, that's what Todd had told them all, that first day, when Chase was still having the shakes.

"What'd he sing?" Jackie glances over at him as he twists the key in the ignition. The car hums to life, and they pull out of the center's parking lot with a low rumble.

"Pretty cover of What Have They Done To You Know. Daniel Knox? Funny, you wouldn't think a guy like him would be into that kind of indie music."

Jackie laughs, though it's not as bubbly as Chase thought it would be. It's more like an exhale Jackie leans into.

There's no conversation that follows, so the clicking turn signal, honking cars passing by, and radio fill the silence. He's gotten better at his anxiety with cars. Chase picks at the neon bandages on his fingers—the story is that he tried rather unsuccessfully to build a shelf—nails, all that, you know—but that's not what happened.

Promise a man, a very wasted, high off his rocker man, a few hundred bucks and he just might cut his whole hand off for you. He'll play the knife game like a roulette wheel, spinning and spinning, until he hits the jackpot, or until he has no fingers.

Nicks for nickels, that's what his buddies down at the bar say. Nicks for nickels. Money isn't easy to come by lately and he doesn't want to have to depend on Jackie's or his brothers' help for the rest of his life. It isn't fair.

So, he works, doing odds and ends and stupid dares, because the companies in the city aren't hot on having a recovering alcoholic under their brand. We'll call you back. Your resume looks great, Mr. Brody, you'll be at the top of our list. You'll be a fine employee.

Ha. Right. Three weeks later? Not a single call, nor email. Nicks for nickels again those nights that followed.

"Where's your mind at, Chase?" Jackie says amiably, once they're on the long stretch of road heading towards the house. "What're you thinking about?"

"My shelf," Chase answers, trying his best to sound mournful, stretching his bandaged fingers out in front of him, "Hurt like a son of a bitch to put it together."

Jackie's mouth presses down into a flat line. He says nothing for a few moments. He changes the station. Something light and electric plays.

“You know, you could've called me," Jackie says eventually, when they've hit the chorus. "I'm a champ at furniture building. You should see Henrik's desk now; beautiful, if I do say so myself."

He may sound proud, but he's still frowning.

Chase picks at the hem of his ratty grey hoodie; he doesn't even remember where he got it.

"I handled Patricia myself," he shrugs.

"Patricia—the shelf has a name now?" That gets a laugh out of the hero, and Chase smiles a bit. Jackie's laugh had always been infectious. "Well, you did a fine job, in any case."

"You're right, though: I'm not as good as you and JJ at that furniture stuff," Chase admits, and cuts Jackie off before he can protest. "No, no, it's true. I've always been the tech guy."

"'suppose so," Jackie amends. He pauses, turns the radio down, then asks hesitantly, "Chase, how'd you hurt your hands?"

The lie comes instantly. "I told you, Jackie—Patricia fought me tooth and nails!"

"No, Chase, that's not what happened." Jackie's voice is firm, if not stern. It's a scolding tone of voice that only Henrik uses with Chase, so it makes him look away in guilt. "Please. Tell me what's really going on. If—If someone's hurting you, or something, I'll—"

"—No, Jackie, it's not like that! I..." Chase rises on the defense.

"Then, what is it, Chase?"

"It's none of your damn business!" He can't stop his voice from raising. He's quick to anger these days—an after affect of the drinking.

"I'm your brother!" He's still looking at the road. His grip is tight on the steering wheel. "Of course it's my damn fucking business! I'm worried about you Chase, and—"

"I don't need you to look after me!"

"Then, who will, Chase? Henrik? Marvin? Jamie? Fucking Robbie? If I don't look after you, you'll...you'll hurt yourself again and I can't let that happen!"

"I can handle myself."

"Clearly, you can't."

"Oh, because I'm a screw-up, is that it? I'm a nobody who isn't good at anything, who almost killed himself—"

"Stop it."

"—is that it, Jackie? Is it because I'm a suicidal disaster?"

"You know what?" Jackie punctuates, "Maybe that is it." Maybe you are a fucking screw-up."

The anger and disappointment in his voice is so raw it silences. He knows that this is just a row, but it still terrifies him, the way Jackie sounds so much like...Anti.

Blood rushes through his eardrums and it feels like he's about to burst. His heart runs a hundred miles a second and it hurts. He can feel his pulse behind his eyes, in his fingertips, in his mouth. Jackie disappears from his view as the edges of his version grow black.

He can't breathe.

Is this what a heart attack is?

The world shifting in and out of focus, like a bad camera, and the road disappearing, like the headlights were never there, like he isn't in a car again, barrelling down a street he can barely see, with the kids in the back, and God, Stacy, I know, okay? I know! Please, don't yell—please don't yell at me! I'm trying not to drink anymore—N-No, I'm not drunk— in the front seat, and his hands are gripping the steering wheel tight, and he is, in fact, drunk, so the world is swimming around him and, CHASE—!

The windshield shatters into a million pieces.

It happens so slowly Chase can touch the glass as it flies past him. He's in the driver's seat now. He looks to his right, and Stacy is there, beautiful Stacy, her face smacking into the dashboard. He looks down at himself. He's uninjured. He's wearing a ratty grey hoodie, red Converse, blue jeans. In his reflection in the rear view mirror, his brown hair has green strokes; he had done a poor dyeing job.

Chase closes his eyes.

"What is real?" His therapist's voice comes back to him, clinical and calm. In this moment, in this panic—ask yourself, "What is real and what isn't?"

He opens his eyes.

Real: He is uninjured.

Not real: Stacy and the kids are here at this moment.

“R-Real," he whispers, "I am in a car. Not real: it's S-Stacy's car." He looks around to the backseat, but can't bear to look at the kids. He keeps his gaze on the floor. "Real: m-my backpack is on the seat. Not r-real: the kids are here."

He dares to look up. His backpack is there, black and canvas, with multiple patches. It's half open. Inside are comic books and his laptop. He twists back around, staring head-on at the blank, empty road, like someone forgot to continue building the rest of the world. Either that or there is no world outside of this one car crash.

A car crash that happened all of two years ago. He's surprised that his other regular nightmare isn't here.

One night in March (it was now September), he had gotten a visit from their eldest brother. Chase had been drunk at the time, swearing and bawling, so when Anti showed up...Chase did the stupid thing: he took a swing at the demon, thinking he was going to take something else away from him. Of course, he didn't like that.

A scar, eight or nine inches deep, on his abdomen twitches. He puts a hand to it. That had been the night he swore off drinking, for good.

"Lots of good it did you."

Chase jumps, and screams when he catches two empty black pits staring at him intently from the rear view mirror. That voice. Speak of the damn devil and he shall appear.

"Y-You're not real," he says, voice cracking out of pure terror, "You a-aren't real!"

:Oh, I'm very real, Chase," Anti appears beside him in the passenger seat, clipping through Stacy, who's blood drips in slow motion. He is just as demonic as Chase remembers him; black, empty eyes that dripped like ink down his pale cheeks, all black attire, his Converse up on the dashboard, and the grossly shiny red gash across his neck. He almost looks like Jack, in a way.

"N-Not real, not real—"

"Say it all you want, Brody, but I am real. I've come to finish the job."

"W-What?"

"Hold still."

A hand closed around his neck, pushing him back, his head smacking into the car door. He cries out, arms lashing wildly and legs thrashing, but Anti isn't deterred. The knife glints above his head. The shards of glass reflect upon it, making it shimmer in all sorts of colors. The radio goes wild; static, static static, filling the world, making Chase's ears ring with its volume.

"D-Don't do this, please, God, fuck, don't—What do you want from me?!"

Anti smiles. His eyes turn grey-blue, white scleroses. His gash disappears.

He's a perfect reflection of Jack.

"Sobriety," he says, in Jack's achingly calm, innocent voice, "Is that too much to ask, Chase?"

"Fuck, no, no, please—!"

The knife comes down into his heart.

"Chase?"

Anti's...Jack's voice echoes in his ears. It sounds so far away.

Not real: Jack talking to him.

"Chase?"

Real: he's about to die.

"—CHASE!"

He jolts awake, panting for air like he had been drowning. His face, neck, and shirt are certainly wet; he's sweating bullets. His hands are shaking something awful. Chase swings his gaze around, trying to take in everything at once.

"No, Chase, please—l-look, look at me!" Hands touch his cheeks gently and he flinches. They return, directing his eyes forward. Jack...no, not Jack—the hair is a neon green...Jackie. Jackie looks at him in worry, blue-grey eyes looking over him. His touch is warm. His hands are shaking. He's got tears in his eyes, but his breaths are controlled. That's the Jackie he knows—never truly removing the mask.

"J...Jackie?" His heartbeat is still thumping wildly, but it's slowing down, as he can feel it in his jaw. His brain feels like molasses. "I don't...what..."

"I pulled over," Jackie drops his hands, but holds Chase's in both. "I didn't mean to call you that, I'm sorry!"

Chase blinks slowly. He looks out the windshield, unbroken, rain dropping in fat splats, the window wipers working overtime—when the hell had it started raining?—and they are pulled over. They're in front of a house he recognizes as being part of the neighborhood. They're not too far from home. The sun is setting, but the sky is too grey to tell where. The clouds are dark and stormy. People rush by the car and into their homes, some with umbrellas, others caught without.

"N-No, Jackie, it's...it's my fault. I shouldn't have yelled at you." His words come back to him and they fill him with shame.

"I shouldn't have gone off on you like that, either. I didn't...you're not a screw-up."

"I am." He shakes his head, tears blotting his eyes, drops falling onto his pants. He hiccups. "I'm s-such a fucking m-mess, Jackie."

The seatbelt unclips beside him and warm arms envelope him. He lets Jackie hug him, unclipping his own seatbelt. They stay there for a moment. Two.

Chase comes clean.

Nicks for nickels. The bar. His "friends."

Most importantly of all, the drinks. You don't go to a bar and not have a drink. He doesn't drink until he's blackout drunk anymore, but he drinks enough to be numb. He's relapsed. He was only able to slip in AA the following day after a strong shot of vodka and some breath mints. The whole session, he had been hammered by a hangover.

Jackie listens silently, but the weight of his disappointment bears down on Chase's shoulders like an anvil.

"Chase..." He starts, but the other shakes his head frantically.

“I know."

"You're not supposed to drink anymore."

"I know."

"I'll... I'll talk to Todd tomorrow, your therapist, too. They have to know about this."

"N-No, Jackie, I have to tell them myself." Having their disappointment on his mind would destroy him, but he needs just a little bit of control of what's happening. "But promise me one thing?"

"Anything."

Chase bites his lip.

"Don't t-tell the others." Jackie opens his mouth to protest. "No, Jackie, y-you have to promise me this. Not Henrik, Marvin, or any of the others...I don't want them to know about this. I don't w-want them to think I'm weaker than they already think I am. And I know they do. I know all of you do. And y-you're all right."

"You are not weak."

"I relapsed." Chase rubs his face with his palms. "It hasn't even been six months."

"Chase," Jackie says firmly, "Look at me."

When he does, hesitantly, the hero takes a breath.

"Chase Brody Mcloughlin, you are the strongest person I know," he starts, "because despite all you've been through, you are still here. You are still living and breathing and I know it hurts, but you are so incredibly brave for surviving. I am proud of you, even if you've relapsed. This road you're driving down, it's not an easy path. I don't have to tell you that for you to know. There'll be bumps and detours but...I'll always be here for you. We'll always be here. Anytime you need us. I'll help you get back on the road. I promise."

That is why Jackie is Chase's hero. Despite everything, anger and pain and injustice...he still manages to be kind.

Chase nearly starts bawling. He bites down on his knuckles and just nods. He can't say much, so Jackie turns the engine on.

"Let's go home."

They park near the sidewalk. The rain has lightened to a drizzle. The clouds are clearing. The stars are coming out. The lawn is wet with dew. The lights in the living room are on.

Chase feels sick looking at the house. His eyes and nose are stuffy and red and he has a headache coming on. He can't hide the fact that he's been crying. Years of dealing with Anti has trained his brothers to notice the smallest of details.

"Chase," Jackie murmurs, "if...if you are serious about being able to handle yourself, I...well, it was supposed to be a surprise, but there's this apartment in the city that I've saved. I haven't spent anything on it, but...if you want, I can help you get it. Contribute a little. The rest can be up to you. I'll help you get a job, even."

Chase looks at him, unsure. "Really?"

“Yeah. I know you've spent most of your life away from us and it's a bit of a shock to be caged in with us again, so..."

He loves them, but the house is stuffy. He misses his old apartment, but he had missed his brothers, too.

"Thanks, Jackie," he says, "I'll...I'll have to think about it."

"Okay. Take your time."

At dinner, no one suspects a thing.

Jamie fills him in on Robbie's garden—it's going smoothly, with beautiful, flowering succulents. For a zombie, it's no surprise he has a green thumb, he jokes, and Chase laughs.

Marvin teaches him a card trick, much to Henrik's disdain; no magic at the dinner table, he scolds them like a mother hen.

Jackie watches him from across the table. He can feel his gaze boring into his skull.

The dining room is warm and full of life. Chase isn't completely involved mentally, but he's enjoying the sounds of dinnerware and conversation. He's not sure what they're having for dinner, either, but it's good. He just feels so out of it because of the emotional roller-coaster that was today.

The prospect of having a new apartment and a stable job...it terrified him, because what would happen if he relapsed again?

He tries to still his hands when he drinks water.

"Goodnight, Chase," Jackie kisses the top of his head, then goes to the doorway of his room.

“Goodnight. Thanks, Jackie. For today."

Jackie smiles and says nothing. He shuts his door.

Chase goes into his room and closes the door behind him. The bed is messy, but he doesn't care. He slides right into it, tossing his phone onto the desk, and closing his eyes.

He feels the small grooves of scars along his fingers—he had finally taken off the bandages. More scars, more tallies. One on his abdomen, a few on his wrists...a bullet scar on his scalp. He doesn’t even have the gun anymore. Jackie had surrendered it to the police. He still feels the ghost sensation of cool metal on his palm.

He sits up and crosses the hall, knocking softly on Jackie's door.

"Come in," the hero's voice floats from behind it. He opens the door.

Jackie is lying on his bed in his somehow neat room, with a shelf full of comic books arranged by series and brand. His hoodie is slung over the back of his desk chair. He looks up from his phone when Chase stands in the doorway.

"What's up, Chase?" He asks, eyebrows raised.

Chase shuffles his feet.

"Can I...can I bunk with you tonight? It's just that I, I can't stop thinking about it all, and I'm...I'm scared."

"It's no problem, buddy," Jackie's expression softens, and he moves over, patting the space beside him. "Come 'ere."

Chase settles in, hesitantly, putting his head on Jackie's chest. He can hear the hero's heartbeat and breath. It's a comforting sound.

"Thank you," Chase whispers.

"Anything for my little brother," Jackie smiles. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

He's terrified of building a new life for himself because if he relapses it will all come crashing down again. He doesn't know if he can handle that.

But he has to try.

As much as it hurts, he has to. If not for himself, for Henrik, Marvin, Jamie, Robbie...and Jackie.

For Jack.

It's what he would've wanted.

And that’s what makes his relapse so crushing.

#writersofjack #jacksepticeye #antisepticeye #chase brody #jackieboy man #jbm #fanfiction #fanfic #suicide ment #alcoholism tw #mine #my writing #this one was a DOOOOZIE

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negandarylsatisfaction · 4 years

Text

[PRE-APOCALYPSE: Dominique finds out she is pregnant by her boyfriend, Negan. Only to find him in bed with another woman. She takes off not knowing the world will end as she knows it. Negan stubbornly wants to protect her no matter how angry she is.]

Drama

Negan and Dominique. PART ONE.

Part one.

It was early in the afternoon and you were at work already hiding in the bathroom. Except today it was for a valid reason, you had just found out you were pregnant. Barely able to stop smiling with excitement staring down at the stick you were so eager to call Negan. Negan was your boyfriend of a year, things had been a little bumpy throughout your relationship but these past five months were nothing but peace. He had even spoken to you about finally moving in with him especially since you lived on the other side of town.

The two of you had spoken about having a baby in the future but you never expected it to be so soon.

After speaking to your boss and asking to leave early due to a family emergency you got in your car and decided to show up and surprise Negan face to face at home. He usually worked night shifts and you knew he’d be home today. This was something that couldn’t wait and you wouldn’t dare waste to speak about through text. Excitedly you blasted some music in the car singing loudly as you drove down to Negans apartment. Things were finally starting to feel just right for you.

Pulling up in front of his apartment you walked up the steps as you dug in your purse looking for the spare keys he gave you for whenever you came over. Humming to yourself you opened the door to a quiet living room and figured Negan was still asleep. He never expected you during these hours of the day you knew he would be surprised. What you didn’t know was the surprise that would be waiting for you.

Slowly opening his bedroom door with a smile, your world came crashing down at the sight before you. There was a naked blonde woman under the covers next to your boyfriend, Negan. You gasped in a state of shock not being able to move, neither of them had heard you. Looking down at the floor you saw the woman’s bra and underwear, your heart sunk into your stomach. You soon heard a low groan as Negan turned around in bed and slowly opened up his eyes at the sight of you standing at his bedroom door.

“Dominique.” He whispered as he quickly realized you were staring at him with a woman in bed with him. Without saying a word you shut the door and began to rush out of his apartment.

“Dominique wait!” Negan shot up from the bed as the unknown woman began to wake up.

“Get out of here. Now.” He told the woman as he threw on a white T-shirt and buttoned his jeans. As he made it out of his room he caught you walking out the door and made you turn to him.

“Dominique wait-“

“You filthy piece of shit!” You screamed as you pulled your arm back.

“Listen to me-“ he struggled to speak seeing the pain in your eyes.

“No. I’m done listening to a word you say. I should’ve known..I should’ve known.” A knot began to build in your throat as you tried your best not to let yourself cry in front of him.

“I only came here to surprise you with something I thought would be good...” You reached into your purse for your pregnancy test and threw it at his chest.

“Congratulations you dirtbag, you’re going to be a father.” You quickly turned away from him as you began to choke on your words. Running out back to your car you left him standing in disbelief. Negan froze staring down at the pregnancy test feeling the guilt begin to grow in his chest.

“Holy shit.” He whispered before running out after you.

“Dominique!” He yelled grabbing hold of your car door before you could close it.

“Leave me alone!” You screamed attempting to push him away but he stood his ground.

“How long have you been pregnant?”

“I don’t fucking know, it doesn’t matter, just leave me alone!” You yelled slamming your steering wheel.

“You need to relax. I’m not fucking letting you drive like this.”

You immediately broke out into laughter.

“Relax?!” You stepped out of your car as he backed up and looked straight into his eyes before laying a hard smack across his face. Of course, the smack barely making him move an inch from here he was, he stared down at you in silence.

“Stay away from me.” You whispered coldly before getting back into your car, slamming your door and driving off as fast you could.

“Dominique!” He yelled and began cursing at himself before noticing his neighbor was watching him.

“What the fuck are you looking at?!” He growled as the woman stepped out of his apartment. He turned his back to her as she walked out with her head down.

Negan walked back inside and immediately grabbed his phone trying to call you but of course all you did was send it to voicemail.

“Baby, please answer the phone. Please hear me out.” Negan left you four voicemails hoping you’d respond as he sighed throwing himself back on the couch. Turning on the tv to distract his mind for a bit he noticed something very strange going on in the news.

“What the fuck..” he whispered as he turned up the volume. A news reporter was in the middle of her broadcast explaining that a virus had been exposed to a small part of the city. It was in the town you lived in.

Negan sat up watching the chaos unfold behind the news reporter when a man suddenly grabbed her and bit half her face off.

“What the fuck!” Negan stood up watching as the camera dropped and more people were attacked. What really caught his eye was what seemed to be a human on the floor crawling towards the camera. The man was making a gurgling noise, half his face was on the floor, it was nothing he had ever seen before.

“What the fuck is that..” Negan whispered moving closer to the television before soon the screen went blank. Not hearing anything outside the only thing Negan could think of was that this was happening on your side of town. Quickly he grabbed his leather jacket and his car keys and jumped in his car racing to where he knew you would be going.

Turning on the radio Negan could hear people in panic talking about this sudden virus beginning to spread. Static began to take over as he attempted to switch channels but lost all signal. No sign of chaos on his side of town his goal was to bring you back. Grabbing his phone again he called you once more only to get your voicemail.

“God dammit baby, pick up the fucking phone, I don’t know whats happening but it’s not safe where you’re at. I’m on my way to you now.” He threw his phone on the passenger seat and continued to speed down the road.

Crying as you drove back home you could feel your phone continue to vibrate on your lap. The same stupid picture of you and Negan popping up on your home screen, it took everything in you to not throw that phone out of the damn window. Being so lost in your pain you failed to notice the traffic building up around you. You failed to notice the strange things starting to occur around you. You didn’t notice a thing until you saw a woman covered in blood running past your car.

“What the hell..” you whispered looking out the window. People were running in circles around you, some chasing others, you had no idea what was happening. A man banged into the front of your car as he chased after another man, blood was soon all over the streets, you gasped at the terror building up around you.

Looking down at your phone you saw a text from Negan, the last person you wanted to hear from but his message caught your attention.

“Somethings happening..I’m coming to get you.” You frowned staring down at the text when he began to call again. Shaking in confusion, mascara running down your cheeks you picked up his phone call and hesitantly spoke.

“H-hello.” You continued to watch the chaos around you grow.

“Where are you?!”

“What’s happening?” You whispered as you watched in horror a man bite into a woman’s shoulder. In that moment any anger or sadness you felt was taken over with fear.

“Where are you, Dominique?”

“I’m in the car, I’m close to the house-“

“Stay in the car, don’t fucking get out of it. Lock your doors-“ you screamed at a sudden woman running into your window.

“What is it? What happened?” Negan stepped on the gas driving as fast as he could.

“There’s a woman, a woman in my window I think she’s injured-“

“Don’t fucking open the door. Stay in that car you hear me?”

“I can’t move, there’s cars and people all around me I’m stuck, what the hell is happening?”

“I don’t know baby, I’m coming to get you. I’m gonna be right there.”

“Oh my god.” You gasped as you saw people being torn limb by limb.

“Negan what the hell, I’ve never seen anything like this-“ your words suddenly cut off with the sound of a loud crash making Negans heart stop.

“Dominique!” He yelled as he heard you scream, glass breaking and suddenly the call was lost.

“Mother fucker!” He slammed the steering wheel and continued to drive.

A truck had slammed into the side of your car making your car flip twice and leaving you upside down. Fortunately, you were conscious with only a few cuts and scrapes on you. It was miracle you were even conscious. Looking out the window you could see your house just down the block. Finding your phone completely crushed you were left with no choice but to just pull yourself out of the car. Moaning in pain you leaned on tiny shards of glass cutting your hands struggling to drag your body out of the car window. Easily getting yourself to your feet you were careful with the people around you. Running down the block in pain you grabbed your keys out of your pocket, relieved to have grabbed them and quickly let yourself in your home. Locking the door as fast as you could you ran to each window closing all the blinds and leaving the lights off. Rushing to the sink you winced as you let water run down the cuts on your hands slowly pulling out some of the pieces of glass.

“Fuck-“ you whispered in pain. As angry as you felt you couldn’t help but hope Negan would soon be at your door.

Negan slowed down once he got close to your house, slowly observing everything around him, fear grew in him still unaware of your condition. That’s when he froze at the sight of your destroyed vehicle.

“No..” he whispered before stepping out of his car not paying attention to anything around him and ran to where he thought you were. People continued to run circles around him as he dodged everyone coming his way.

Distracted with only focusing on getting to you, Negan zoned out on everything else around him. Crouching down he noticed nobody was in the car, he looked around and soon noticed a trail of blood leading into the direction of your home. He didn’t know whether to feel a sense of relief or not. Without hesitation Negan ran to your home and immediately started slamming his hands on the door.

“Dominique it’s me! Please tell me you’re fucking in there.” You jumped looking over at the door and ran to open it. Struggling not to hurt your hands more than they were you unlocked the door and let him in. Negan instantly let out a sigh of relief before letting himself in and shutting the door behind him.

“Jesus fucking Christ.” He whispered grabbing your face noticing each and every scratch and cut on it.

“I’m fine-“ ignoring your words he grabbed your wrists looking down at your cut up hands. Shaking his head he looked up into your eyes wondering how the hell you made it out alive after how the car looked. His eyes couldn’t help but fall to your stomach. He didn’t have to say a word for you to know what he was thinking.

“I’m fine.” You whispered once more honestly not sure if you were just too shaken up to feel anything or if everything was truly ok. Turning away in silence you walked back to the sink and continued to clean out your cuts. It was almost as if even through all the fear you were feeling you came into the realization again at what had just happened between the two of you.

“Dominique...I-“

“Don’t talk to me right now about this.” You responded in a soft tone with your back still to him. Negan groaned not agreeing with what you wanted but what was he to say.

“Let’s get you back to my place. You can come back here when all this shit is over.” Negan spoke as he took a peep out the window not knowing when any of this would even be over.

“Your place?” You chuckled as you finished cleaning up your hand.

“Where your whore stayed? I don’t think so, I’ll stay at a hotel.” It seemed the fear in you didn’t completely make you forget the rage you felt towards Negan either.

“Don’t start.” Negan spoke low with his back to you, he knew you had every reason to be upset but he wouldn’t dare let you stay without him.

“Don’t start? I have every reason to start and say whatever the hell I want, I don’t care what’s going on right now. Whatever it is, it’s only in my side of town, I don’t have to stay with you.”

Negan turned with deep furrowed brows as he slowly made his way to you.

“And what exactly do you think you’re going to do, sweetheart? Carry my child and take off to some cheap motel?”

Your heart once again sunk all over at his words, the reminder of being pregnant.

Being pregnant with Negans child.

“It’s none of your business-“

“Like hell its none of my fucking business!” His voice unexpectedly louder than he meant it to be towards you. Staring at your back he could see your shoulders tense up at the way he spoke, he looked down with a sigh.

“Look, you came here to make sure I was ok and I appreciate that but...-“

“But what?” He spoke low looking up in your direction, you still couldn’t bare the sight of him. He knew and feared the words that would come out of your mouth.

“I may be carrying your child but..we are no longer together-“

“Don’t say that.”

“What? Did you think we’d somehow act like nothing and continue our relationship after what I saw this morning?” You turned with tears filled in your eyes.

“I’m done. This baby doesn’t stop me from being done with you, I am done.” Your heart hurt as you spoke your truth but you should’ve known Negan would be a persistent man.

“You can be done with me all you want, baby. I’m not letting you out of my sight again, not until this whole shit clears up.”

“What whole shit? You don’t even know what it is!”

“Exactly.” He turned around again taking a look out the window, chaos still on the streets.

“I’m going to pack my stuff then I’m staying at the Royal Inn in the city.” You turned and made your way up the stairs to your bedroom.

“Yeah and how you gonna get there? Walking?” Negan yelled up to your room as you rolled your eyes. There was no way you’d stay with this man, you could take care of yourself just fine.

Coming down the stairs you were shocked to find Negan packing a bag of his own, a shopping bag he must’ve found laying around on the couch.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m packing you some snacks.”

“You don’t need to, I’ll probably be back by tomorrow.”

Negan didn’t want to worry you, but he doubted you’d be able to come back to this side of town any time soon.

“You feel ok?” He asked you as you walked into the kitchen.

“I’m fine, Negan.” He sensed the annoyance in your tone and crossed his arms.

“Excuse me for worrying princess, have you seen your god damn car outside?”

“Yeah well, I’m fine. So drop it.”

You always were a stubborn woman but this anger you had inside you, made you all the more stubborn.

“Lets go.” You went to grab your gym back that you packed but Negan was a second too fast for you and took a hold of it before turning to the door.

“Stay behind me.”

“Mhm.” You responded low as Negan opened up the door and led the way to his car. The area had cleared up a bit. He cleared a path for you and made sure you were settled in the car before quickly making his way around.

Without saying a word Negan started the car and began to drive but he drove in the opposite direction of where you asked him to take you.

“Negan?”

“Hm.”

“This isn’t-“ you turned looking out your window.

“This isn’t the way to the Royal Inn.”

Negan let out a snort making you turn his way.

“Is that where you think you’re going, doll?”

“Negan I told you to take me there.”

“And I told you no.” He responded in a cocky manner with a hint of a smirk on his lips. You could never win with this man.

“You’re in for a treat if you just think I’m going to be doing whatever you say.” You mumbled making him chuckle. He didn’t have much to say to that. All he knew was that he was discovering a piece of himself he had never knew existed before. He had always been protective of you, Negan was always protective of those he cared for. But in his forty plus years of living he had never felt this sudden fear deep within him. The woman he loved was now pregnant and she was pissed at him. Hell, he didn’t blame her but he’d be damned if he thought he would let that get in the way of making sure her and his unborn were safe.

The car was filled with silence for a while as Negan drove. The closer the two of you got to his side of town the quieter it got. You looked out the window zoning out when the sudden feel of Negans hand gently placed on your stomach made you gasp. You looked over at him as he continued to drive, eyes on the road like if he wasn’t doing a thing.

“Stop.” You whispered.

You couldn’t take it.

The happiness was ripped out of you this morning, as much as you wanted a baby the pain of how quickly everything flipped this morning was too much to bare.

“I said stop.” You whispered as Negan pulled over right in front of his apartment before he slowly turned your way.

“Why?” He whispered leaning his face close to yours.

“Whether you like it or not that’s my kid in there.”

“Stop.” You shoved his hand away and opened the car door stepping out. You wanted so badly to be angry that this was his child but truth be told, you weren’t.

“Listen, you can’t act like nothing forever.” His eyes met yours over the roof of the car.

Ignoring his statement you walked towards his door waiting for him to reach your side and unlock the door. Not saying a word you walked inside and sat on the couch. Negan right away went to the back of the house as you lay back feeling yourself grow tired. When was the last time you took a nap during the day like this? You couldn’t remember.

The silence was soon interrupted with Negan walking back from his bedroom with a rifle in hand.

“Why the hell did you bring that out?” You shot up as he lay it on the dining room table.

“Precautions.” He muttered low, the last thing he wanted to do was scare you. But, on the drive home he noticed his phone was disconnected, certain places were closed. On his side of the road their happen to be a store with a sign telling customers to take whatever they needed. He looked over at you and he wasn’t sure what was going through your mind, he wasn’t sure if you were realizing anything around you at all.

“Precautions for what?” You almost laughed as you picked up the rifle when Negan quickly grabbed it from you.

“Don’t touch it.”

You frowned, his tone as if you were a careless woman who didn’t know how to handle a gun.

Truthfully, you didn’t know how to handle a rifle but still.

“Just don’t want you to hurt yourself, baby.” He grabbed the gun and walked towards the kitchen. He seemed tense, more than he was before, something was off.

“Well I’m gonna head to the store, do you want something?”

“Like hell you are!” Negan yelled from the kitchen making you sigh as you made your way to him.

“What the hell has gotten into you? Suddenly you find out I’m pregnant and I can’t breathe for myself? The deli is right on the corner of this block, don’t be ridiculous.” You grabbed the keys off the counter before suddenly feeling Negans tight grasp on your arm forcing you to turn around.

“Drop. The. Keys.” He spoke low staring directly into your eyes.

“You’re being ridiculous. If this is about what is going on where I live, that’s an hour away. We are fine here.”

“I’m not asking you, sweetheart. I’m telling you.” You rolled your eyes before shoving the keys to his chest.

“You want food? I’ve got enough.” He turned and opened the fridge pulling out containers, pizza, all kinds of frozen foods. It’s what he lived off of.

“There. Now stop being a pain in the fucking ass.” Negan left the kitchen and headed back to his bedroom with keys in hand. He didn’t know what he was going to do yet but he knew he had to think fast. The two of you had to get the hell out of there.

You crossed your arms and chuckled clearly in irritation. This man was something else.

Who the hell did he think he was?

Frozen foods?

You threw everything back in the fridge and looked down the hall to see his back to the door busy looking for something in his drawer. He took his keys but you didn’t need those damn keys anyways. Very quietly you made your way to the door and without Negan suspecting a thing, you made your way outside.

“Well it’s awfully quiet out here.” You whispered to yourself as you looked around realizing there was no one in sight in a usual busy street. Walking down the deli you noticed the usual old man behind the counter was not there. The register was open, you frowned looking around the store and noticed a few things on the floor.

“Mr.Boswell?” You yelled out when the lights suddenly flickered.

What the hell was going on?

Negan came back out the room with a box of bullets and a pistol. He knew he would have to teach you how to shoot, at what..he had no idea.

He lay back on the couch with a sigh placing the bullets on the small coffee table as he looked down at his pistol.

“Found something for you, baby.” He chuckled looking at the gun already picturing how it would be to teach you to shoot. Raising his eyebrows he almost became aroused at the thought of you with a gun.

“Dominique get over here, I wanna see something.” He chuckled before realizing how quiet it was.

“Dominique?” He quickly stood up walking towards the kitchen to find, you were gone.

“This fucking little-“

Negan cut himself off as he raced towards the door. Fear grew in him at the thought of you outside by yourself with something he really didn’t know much about around you. What if you were hurt already? It hadn’t been that long, had it? Why the hell did you have to be so damn rebellious? This wasn’t the time for it.

#jeffrey dean morgan #negan #the walking dead fan fictions #negan twd #negan x of #negan x reader #negan imagines

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bakutae · 4 years

Text

haikyuu headcanons #4

today's menu:

a shot of bokuto kotaro, drip of sugawara koushi and a glass nishinoya yuu

scenario:

losing their child in the supermarket

author's note:

i had a lot of fun writing this~

bokuto kotaro

honestly speaking, are we even surprised that he forgot about his kid?

if you are then hi there, you must be new to the haikyuu fandom

leaving bokuto and his kid alone in the supermarket was one of the worst things you could ever do

but you had no choice; or rather, they had no choice

bokuto wanted to go to the supermarket to get some ingredients for the surprise anniversary dinner for the two of you and he didn't want to leave your two year old kid alone at home

you just so happened out with friends during the day and could not take care of her (it's gonna be a girl that's going to be spoiled rotten by bokuto)

so the two of them went, using the public bus and he almost lost her, since he almost forgot to pick her up when they left the bus stop at their stop

it was only until an elderly woman asked him if that was his child, and only then did he realise that he actually had a daughter and was there with her

oh my god bokuto i swear-

he felt so guilty when he saw his daughter on the bus seat, with her brown eyes that she got from kotaro staring at him, with a hint of confusion in her eyes

"babyy i'm so sorry for leaving youu! daddy will never ever forget about you again okay?" he'll tell her, pouting

and literally fifteen minutes later he lost her again

he was so excited and was so absorbed in looking at the cuts of meat that he, once again, completely forgot about the existence of his daughter

spent a good amount of time choosing between sirloin and ribeye and kept asking the staff what the difference was when he was interrupted by the intercom in the supermarket

"attention please, we have a lost child at cashier number one, i repeat, cashier number one. she's wearing a pink dress with a ribbon on the top left, and has both...black and white hair?"

bokuto heard it, but decided that it had nothing to do with him and ignored it

"she appears to have...brown eyes *distant crying sounds* and oh my- please don't pull at my hair! *static noises*"

"pfft, what a feisty kiddo." bokuto mutters to himself, while listening intently to the butcher, eyes fixated of both cuts of meat

"*weird muffled sounds* waa! daddy!! *thumping sounds on mic*"

when he heard the kid's voice, bokuto jumped and hastily looked behind him

his daughter was gone

looks at the butcher, a horrified expression on his face

"i-is that my daughter..?"

to which the butcher is confused and replies with "i...don't know sir. is she?"

"shit."

and he drops everything and leaves for cashier number one while almost tripping over himself smh bokuto are you the baby or is your daughter the baby

sugawara koushi

let's be real, he'll never lose his kid at the supermarket

he's way to father material to even do that

but because he's father material, he will lose his children at the supermarket because he has... too many kids

alright let's say you popped out five kids within the span of three years; one oldest boy, one pair of twins, both girls and another pair of twins, one boy one girl

you and him hadn't actually planned to produce that many offspring in that short period of time but you two were in a blissful family and wouldn't trade it for the world

okay so, the oldest was six, first pair of twins were five and the second pair were four; basically a nightmare to take care of in the mornings

but somehow, he does it? cause he's THAT sugawara koushi if you get the reference you're a real one

okay so, you were trying to make dinner, when you realise that you ran out of ingredients to feed your big family and asked sugawara to help you get them at the supermarket

at first, it started with the oldest boy wanting to follow him, to which he said yes to

but soon, every single one of the children wanted to tag along with him

he found it too difficult to say no since he didn't want to see any creases on their faces so he reluctantly agreed

you knew how fatherly he was anyways so you didn't object and sent him off at the door

it was quite the journey though, the both pair of twins kept chasing each other in the streets and almost gave sugawara a heart attack when they ran out to the roads

luckily, there were no cars around

he really let his emotions get to him and lectured the four young ones in a harsh tone on how important road safety was and how they only had one life and they should be careful

if it were you lecturing them, the kids literally would not care

but since it was their precious father doing so, they decided to be obedient and walked like a normal human being while the oldest one is just there oops

honestly, sugawara would have had it handled before they reached the supermarket so it would be all good in the end :)

nishinoya yuu

he was out with his son to the supermarket because he was asking for some power rangers special chocolate bar that all his friends in kindergarten had so he wanted one too

noya, who loves his son to bits, agreed to buying him a couple bars to bring to school throughout the next few weeks and thus goes to the supermarket with him alone

you wanted to come, however, you were suddenly down with a cold and couldn't join the both of them

when he reached the supermarket, his son immediately goes in a frenzy at the thought if the chocolate bars and runs away

and soon enough, could no longer be seen

he panics

he starts to panic because he's afraid of what would happen if he doesn't find him (i feel like his kid would be a boy that will be a splitting image of him) and would be really scared of your reaction towards it

so when that happens, the first thing that comes to his mind is to panic-call you

he really didn't want to disturb you when you were sick but to him, that was the best option available

"u-uh, y/n? i lost our baby."

"what? *cough* oh my, yuu, maybe going to the cashier would help? they can make an announcement after all."

you knew better than to lash out on him so you decided that giving him advice on how to tackle the situation would be better

"thank you so much, i love you. sorry for calling you while you're sick!"

he ends the call and scurries along to the cashier where the announcement machine thing was

"h-hi there. i-i'm..."

before he could finish his sentence, the lady working at the cashier asked him

"hi there, little one. are you looking for your parents?"

nishinoya: 0-0

he was about to get annoyed when he reminded himself what he was there for and shook his head briefly

"no, i'm not. i'm actually looking for my child? he's a boy, around six years old, wait no he's six years old this year. has black hair and brown eyes, is wearing a tayo the little bus shirt with snoopy pants. could you make an announcement for him? thank you."

the lady was shocked, needless to say

"ah...right. i'm sorry! i thought you were-"

"it's fine, just please hurry page for my kid thanks"

so after she paged for him, he was waiting there, pacing back and forth, worried sick as he shoots longing looks towards the shelves, hoping that some kind soul would bring his son back to him

with you still in his mind, he'll send you a quick text on how he already paged for y'all's son and was now waiting for his return

soon enough, he heard someone scream 'daddy!' really loudly while making a beeline for him

he felt as if a huge weight had been lifted off his shoulders and sighed with relief when he saw the familar silhouette of his son

he'll bow and thank the cashier before running to the kid

"where did you run off to? i was so worried!"

"to the choco bar area daddy! that's why we came here right?"

nishinoya has never felt more dumb in his entire life

tag list: @sugacookiies @shiggywiggy @sushij1ma @leoamber66 @keiyoomi

message/send an ask to be in my tag list!

#haikyuu #haikyuu headcanons #bokuto kotaro #nishinoya yuu #sugawara koushi #bokuto kotaro x reader #bokuto kotaro headcanons #haikyuu!!#nishinoya yuu x reader #hq headcanons #haikyuu!! headcanons #haikyuu bokuto #sugawara koushi x reader #haikyuu sugawara #haikyuu nishinoya #nishinoya yuu headcanons #sugawara koushi headcanons

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lirusstories · 4 years

Text

Run Boy Run- Chapter One: A Safe Place

(Word Count: 5,301)

A/N: FUCKIN FINALLY

Anti got into another fight with Jackie today. It wasn’t his fault, he didn’t mean to hurt Chase. The dad just snuck up on him and he just glitched. It wasn’t like Anti knew he wasn’t a threat, he had no idea Chase was even there! He just glitched and accidentally burned him. It wasn’t even that bad, Marvin fixed him up pretty quickly anyway. But apparently that wasn’t good enough for Jackie, he still yelled at Anti and thankfully only managed to get a single shove in before JJ jumped between them. Anti took that distraction to quickly slip from the kitchen and run up to his room, grab the hoodie he nicked from Marvin’s room a while back, it used to be a cloak until he put it on.

It has a glamour on it that works best when the hood is up, but thankfully when it’s down he can just pass for a cosplayer. Anyway, Anti threw on the hoodie, grabbed his phone and quickly glitched out as fast as he could through his laptop, which is how he is here now. He’s been going here for the past few weeks after finding it by accident. Well more like he was drawn to it and after a really bad fight with Jackie he finally decided to see the place he was drawn to. It’s night time here when it’s day time over in Brighton though, so right now the place is lit with fairy lights.

It’s a walkway that leads to a small park, with the only thing being a double swing set, a small pond full of fish that glows, he doesn't know how or why but they do. The swing set is in a sand pit that is surrounded by always perfect green grass which in turn, both the walk down to it and the little park itself is surrounded by trees which is where the fairy lights above are connected to and the pathway is just soft grass that was slightly worn from people walking from.

Speaking of, that was where he appeared. Like always, his bare feet land on the soft grass like every night for the past few weeks. He wore shoes at first, but it just made everything uncomfortable and disconnected. More than the constant feeling of being watched was, it was uncomfortable and almost threatening the first night, but it quickly changed to one of curiosity, before the feeling only happened when Anti arrived and right before he left. But right now all the eyes seem to be watching curiously.

‘I wonder why.’

Anti shrugs it off, putting on some music on my phone, putting the headphones in his ears before walking down the path. He ignores the feeling of being watched although he is a bit nervous as to why they are before he decides to focus on the mere feeling of comfort this place brought. He gets to the area with the swings sets and pond and begins to walk over but freezes seeing something sitting on one of the swings that was wrapped in cloth. From where he stood he can smell warm chocolate chip cookies.

His stomach growls, reminding him that he hasn't eaten in almost a day. He walks over seeing a note on it. Picking it up and his stomach drops a little reading it.

To the man who visits my swings every night, I made you some cookies. Hope they taste good!:)

Confused and Anti looks back down at the, apparently, cookie filled bundle of cloth and quickly opens it. The smell is absolutely divine, like walking into your house after a stressful day and seeing a batch of freshly baked cookies waiting on the table for you, made by someone you love. He quickly picks up the bundle sitting down and sets it on his lap as he sits down, nearly ripping out the headphones when they get in the way and shoving them into the pocket of the sweatshirt with his phone.

He grabs one, bringing it up to his mouth and immediately takes a bite and proceeds to moan in delight.

‘This is the best cookie I've ever had, and it’s still warm.’ He doesn't even register that the person who left them might still be around. I probably eat around four of them when the breeze grows noticeable, picking up excited whispers. I look around slightly confused, knowing the whispers are coming from. They didn’t feel bad or anything, if anything it felt almost comforting.

‘Christ, how fucked up to I have to be to find strange whispers coming from a dark forest comforting.’

He quickly wipes his mouth of any melted chocolate and crumbs with his sleeve and stops slightly as he faintly hears the sound of someone walking barefoot on grass. Straining his ears, he tries to hear where they’re coming from over the whispers before they suddenly stop.

“Hello.” A feminine voice speaks from behind him.

Anti jumps slightly, nearly knocking the cookies off his lap and snaps his head towards the voice. He freezes seeing the woman behind it. First thing first, she was tall, six foot at least. She has natural tan skin and long, and he means long, it looks like it would be at her heels if it wasn’t braided, golden blonde hair that has what looks like actual gold highlights. A soft and comforting face that he can’t help but find familiar, Midnight Blue eyes that shine with mystery and a small amused but kind smile.

“I see you got the cookies.” She cocks her head to the side slightly as Anti’s face flushes red at the realization that he probably stared at her for a full minute. She giggles slightly walking to the second swing and he can’t help but follow her with his eyes, trying to find out why she seems so familiar.

“Who are you?” He blurts out as she sits down. She looks surprised for a second before her face falls back into the kind but amused smile.

“My name is Liru, I own this place.” She answers patiently, like she expects him to interrogate her or something. He quickly looks down at his lap feeling her eyes on the side of his head.

“I hope you like the cookies.” Anti nods a bit, not wanting to look at her, not only embarrassed from getting caught but also from nerves, worried that she might try and hurt him or at the very least yell, like a normal person would.

“What's your name?” He freezes slightly but refuses to answer, not wanting to risk the glamour breaking. He quickly stands up and sets the cookies down on the swing before saying,

“S-sorry for intruding, I’ll leave now.” He fights back any glitches and quickly goes to walk down the path before she stops him.

“You don’t have to leave sweetie, anyone who comes to a little swing set at night, six miles from the nearest road and maybe twenty or so from the nearest town, every-night for the past few weeks is clearly needing to get away from something.” He freezes, wondering A. where the fuck he is and B. why the hell she’s letting him stay when he’s been trespassing. Jackie would have beat the shit out of him if he caught Anti going into his room let alone his property, and especially every night for the past four weeks.

He looks at her, confusion painted over his face while she just smiles sweetly before seeming to think for a minute.

“Actually, how about you come with me.” She says in a light tone, standing back up with a bounce. Anti jerks back in surprise, feeling more confused than anything.

“W-what?” He asks when he finally finds his voice, his heart racing in his chest as he suddenly feels rather shy. She smiles kindly walking over to him.

“I have plenty of warm food waiting at home and you obviously don’t want to go back to wherever it is you came from.” His heart jumps to his throat just as his stomach growls causing any denial and declination to die. She just gives him a kind look, her features soft with a small smile and slightly raised eyebrows.

“Come with me.” She pushes a warm bundle into his hands and he instinctively takes it, looking down he sees it’s the bundle of cookies.

‘When did she grab these?’ as far as he knows she hadn’t even reached over to grab them. She begins to walk down the path and after looking after her for a few seconds, debating, he quickly follows after her. He hears a small sound of satisfaction from her that he might not have picked up if he didn’t have enhanced hearing.

Looking over her form, he notes that she isn’t wearing shoes but she is wearing black shorts with little white stars all over them and a black sweatshirt that he noticed hung off her shoulders and a little white outline of planets on it. He also noticed the way her hair is braided is like she had to have someone else braid it. His heart jumps to my throat at the thought of some else being there.

‘I mean I shouldn’t even be going with her but there's just something… familiar, about her.’ He tries not to stir in the feeling, it reminds him too much of his bro-... the others. He decides to break the quiet, beginning to become irritated at the static in his head getting louder the static sound like someone telling him to leave.

“So do you live with anyone?” He tries to keep his voice even but when she looks back at him slightly he can feel my mouth go dry. She smiles softly which relaxes him a little bit before she looks back ahead.

“Nope, just me.” He tilts his head slightly a bit at that but doesn't press further. They walk in silence for a few more minutes before a rather large manor comes into view. It seemed to be made out of just wood, stone, the occasional metal and the glass in the windows. Not to mention the giant ass garden that was full of plants and flowers that Anti couldn’t tell you what they were for the life of him.

She giggles and he quickly snaps his attention to her, noticing she was a bit further away but turned to him.

“Come on, if you want I can show you the garden another time. For now dinner.” She states with a wave of the hand to follow her before she turns back towards the manor and continues walking. He looks back at the garden, her offer ringing in my head.

‘I might take her up on that offer.’ He’s always loved plants and animals and the thought of learning about more excites me a little.

Anti quickly shakes himself out of his thoughts and quickly jogs after her until he’s a few feet behind her, not wanting to get too close and make her uncomfortable. He looks around noticing that there were lighting bugs fluttering around the flowers that lead up the walkway to the door and the feeling of familiarity only seems to increase. She opens the door and steps aside and the smell of roasted meat and potatoes and cookies fills the air. His face turns a fiery red as his stomach growls and even more so when she chuckles.

“Come on in. And if you want you can take off your sweatshirt if you want, it’s kinda warm in here.” He walks into the house just shaking his head a little and notices that the inside is light rather dimly.

“How come it’s so… dim?” He asks as she closes the door behind him.

“I’m not a fan of bright lights at night, hurts my eyes and irritates the cats.” He perked up a bit at that.

“You have cats?” Anti can’t help the excitement from creeping into his voice as he looks at her. She just smiles fondly, walking down the hallway, Anti close behind, before responding.

“Yup. Two, A black and white Norwegian forest cat named Izzabella and a white ragdoll named Marvin.” He stumbles over his feet a bit, slapping a hand to his mouth trying and failing to hold back laughter. She stops turning to him with an eyebrow raised.

“Something funny?” He quickly stops, cheeks heating up in embarrassment.

“O-oh, uh n-no, it’s just uh, you see, one of my b-brother’s names is Marvin, a-and he’s known to a-act like a-a cat.” Marvin’s disgusted face flashes his mind from the time he tried to remind him that we’re brothers or, well, supposed to be.

She relaxes again before turning around and saying in a sweet high-pitched voice,

“Babies!” which is quickly followed by the sound of two tinkling bells, one moving erratically and approaching quickly while the other soft and approaching at a normal speed, for a cat at least. Within seconds he sees a white blur launch itself at her which she catches readily as it begins letting out loud purrs. He looks at it a bit surprised with what it just did but melts a little seeing how small it was.

It was extremely fluffy and white and had it’s head buried under her chin and had it’s paws on either side of her neck as if trying to hug her. She giggles petting it’s back while it proceeds to purr louder at the affection.

“This little guy is Marvin, the cat obviously.” He goes to say something but freezes when something rubs up against his legs. Looking down quickly he can see a fluffy black and white cat with stunning green eyes and a gold ring around them looking up at him purring loudly. He looks at the cat confused and also rather joyful but he tries not to touch it. He doesn’t want to scare it off.

“That’s Izzabella. She wants you to pet her ya know?” He snaps his attention to her and sees her watching him with a smile with her tongue poking through her side teeth and the white cat watching me with curious green eyes with a golden ring around it’s pupils. The cat below him lets out a squeaky meow before pawing at his leg. He looks down at it and after a few seconds he leans over and lets her stiff his hand before she begins rubbing against his palm.

Anti melts at the sight and begins to pet the cat's head a bit cautiously, still worried he might scare her. Liru makes a sound of approval as she sets the white cat down with a small smile on her face, glad that two of her familiars seem to have warmed up to the almost familiar stranger so quickly.

“Come, while the food is still warm.” The green haired man looks up at her just as she begins to walk down the hallway. He quickly scratches behind Izzabella’s ear before getting up and quickly following after her down the hallway.

‘She has a lot of interesting things.’ He thinks as they pass by a painting of a large and unnerving familiar castle surrounded in what looks like miles of some type of garden. She takes him to a large living room connected to a dining room that looks like that could fit all of the septics, and then some. And it looks like the comfiest place he’s ever seen and all the seats look soft enough to fall asleep on and the lighting is nice with fairy lights lining the ceiling. Looking at the rather big T.V. he can see a YouTube video paused, it looks like some Steven Universe song.

Anti watches as she goes over to a remote sitting on a coffee table and unpauses the song.

“I hope you don’t mind the music. It’s a bit difficult for me to do much without it.” She informs him as the familiar sound of “It’s Over, Isn’t It” begins to play.

“I don’t mind. I’m usually the same way anyway.” She smiles as she sets the remote down and walks over and he barely notices how her hand seemed to twitch towards her stomach area. She leads him over to a decent sized round wooden table, probably big enough to fit six or so people around it.

“Sit in any spot you like…” She pauses as she begins to walk to the kitchen but stops in the doorway.

“I just realized that I never got your name.” She turns to Anti with an almost sheepish smile. He look at her a bit confused, remembering that she did ask him-

‘Oh. I forgot to tell her.’ His face begins to turn red with embarrassment before answering,

“I-It’s Anti- I mean!” FUCK! She cuts him off with a small laugh before he can scramble to find a fake name.

“It’s alright sweetie, if that's your preferred name then you don’t have to tell me any other.” She has a soft smile as she looks at him and his heart jumps to his throat at the familiar nickname. She turns and walks into the kitchen while he sits at a random spot at the table while trying to figure out why she just seems so familiar. Putting his head in his arms on the table, he listens to the sound of her moving around the kitchen and putting stuff on plates, noticing that she's just barely singing a song different than to the one that was playing.

He doubts he would have even heard it if he was human. Closing his eyes and trying to focus on the lyrics but the only thing he can pick up is, “And disappear in the trees.”

Something flashes through his mind, someone with blonde hair like the sun and kind blue eyes singing down to… him? For some reason they look like Liru but with what are most likely multiple soul-marks on her face. His throat closes up as I recognize Marvin’s on her forehead the same place as it is on JJ and Jackie’s on her right cheek beneath her eye, covering most of the scar that went up her cheek from under her jaw. Anti knows that one is Jackie’s because it’s on the back of JJ’s left hand and for some reason, he doesn’t know why, told him.

He can see her mouth moving and focusing, he can faintly hear her singing. Thinking it’s the same one that Liru was singing if the tune was anything to go by.

“Tomorrow is another day

And you won't have to hide away.”

She brings up his(?) hand to her mouth as he realizes that their fingers are intertwined, and presses a few kisses to his(?) knuckles before setting their hands down on his(?) stomach. And for some reason, instead of feeling flustered or disturbed like he knows he should when someone he doesn’t know does something like that, he just feels content.

“You’ll be a man, boy!

But for now it’s time to run, it’s time to run!”

She looks like she’s going to keep singing but he’s suddenly yanked from… whatever that was by the sound of loud and malicious, distorted hissing in his ear. Anti jumps opening his eyes and jerking back in his chair just as the door to the kitchen opens and Liru walks out with a plate of food for him and a glass of water. She stops seeing his distress as the two cats rub against her leg before looking at the startled and disturbed man.

“Is everything okay honey?” She walks over quickly and sets his food and water on the table in front of him, looking down at him concerned. She goes to put a hand on his shoulder before stopping herself and putting it back at her side. Anti nods a bit shakily before forcing himself to calm down somewhat.

“I-I’m fįņe.” His voice almost glitches when he sits normally, clearing his throat trying to pass it off as a voice crack.

“You sure?”

“Yeah.” He says, voice clearer this time as he nods his head. “I’m fine, just thought I heard something. She looks at him still worried as the cats sit at either side of him and watch him.

“Well, if you're sure.” She smiles a little again but also becomes a bit more concerned when his stomach growls again. When's the last time he ate?

“Well help yourself, don’t be afraid to ask for seconds, I made plenty of food. And,” she looks at the cats who are purring up at him with their best kitten faces, “Don’t give them anything, they’ve already had their share.”

He nods rather eagerly, almost causing his hood to fall as she turns and walks back into the kitchen to grab her own food as Anti happily and hungerly digs in. She comes back about a minute later with her food and some water and sits across from him, noting with a light frown on how he’s wolfing down his food. She puts on a smile as he looks up at her and she resists the urge to peek through the scarily familiar magic surrounding him, hiding his identity.

“Well I'm glad you like it honey.” He ducks his head a little hiding an embarrassed blush.

“By the way about your name,” He tenses just as he goes to take another bite. “It’s from that Jacksepticeye guy, right?” He relaxes a little, taking the help with the lie as he nods shyly.

“Um, yeah, yeah. Do you watch him?”

“From time to time. It’s nice to hear a familiar voice every now and again.” He looks at her a bit confused and the sound of Jack laughing fills his head along with the image of what has to be him sitting on the woman's lap while she has a happy grin on her face flashes through his mind before fading within seconds.

“Do you know him?” She fumbles a little with her fork as she realizes what she said and quickly responds,

“No, but my kids would watch him a lot.” His head snaps up to her shocked. She has kids?!

“You have kids?!” he exclaims in shock, she cannot be older than twenty-three. She pauses for a second before nodding and eating a bite of her food.

“I have five, but only two of them are biological.” Anti had nearly choked at that.

“How old are they?” He asks his voice filled with disbelief and shock. She gives him a slightly strained smile. It always hurts to talk about them when they’re so far away.

“Would you believe me if I told you my eldest is nineteen and youngest seventeen?”

“No.” Is his deadpan answer. She laughs a little at that despite the absence of them literally pulling her soul taut.

“Well they are, adopted though the oldest is twenty-one.” He just looks her over confused, not really believing that.

“How old are you?” She raises an eyebrow at him and he can suddenly see how she is a mom.

“It’s quite rude to ask a woman her age ya know?” In reality she doesn’t mind but she can’t think of a plausible age off the top of her head without it seeming weird. She’s actually 2,449 but, it’s not like she could tell him that. He looks down at his now empty plate sheepishly at that. She just chuckles softly as she eats a bit more.

“Would you like some more?” She asks after a few minutes of silence. He jumps at the sudden sound of her voice and quickly looks up at her. She hides a frown, hopping that he was just startled and not scared.

“O-oh um… sure.” She smiles and gets up and goes and grabs his plate and glass and goes back into the kitchen. She comes back a minute later and sets his food and drink in front of him before going back to her spot and continuing to eat. Anti quickly begins eating his food but at a slower rate as he tries to think about the fact that he should head back soon, and also ignore the cats who were giving him kitten eyes that reminded him a bit of JJ.

Once they were both done eating Anti lets out a loud yawn that he quickly tries to stifle. Liru smiles softly and collects the plates and glasses while saying,

“You’re more than welcome to stay the night if you wish.” He looks at her, more confused than when she offered him dinner as she walks back into the kitchen.

‘Why is she being so nice to me?’ As far as he knows people who’ve just met him seem to either loathe him or they’re afraid of him, well, minus JJ and Robbie but doc thinks it’s some form Stockholm syndrome with JJ, but he knows for a fact that's not true. JJ is the only reason Anti is the way he is now, no longer stitched together like patch work to whatever was using him. And Robbie… Robbie’s the newest member of the family, shocked the hell out of everyone when Chase of all people came back with the lilac “zombie” only he’s not a zombie. They don’t really know what he is but he always seems to gravitate towards Jack, JJ or Anti for whatever reason.

And for some reason he always seems to know when the voice and static start becoming too loud for him to ignore and try and control him again. He always finds him with JJ who at this point no longer needs any convincing to follow him to Anti when he approaches him. Anti snaps back to reality when Liru comes through the kitchen door and both cats get up and bolt over to the couches and hop onto their favorite cushions. She smiles at them before turning her attention to Anti.

“Would you like to stay tonight? I have a few guest bedrooms or if you want you can sleep on the couch.” She says giving him a look that feels like home. He barely thinks before he’s nodding.

“Y-Yeah, yeah… I’d like that.” She smiles happily at the answer, she doesn’t know why but she knows she can trust him not to do anything bad.

“Great! Would you like to sleep in one of the guest rooms or one of the couches?”

“The couch is fine.” He smiles a bit sheepishly up at her, “I don’t want to intrude more than I already have.”

“Oh honey you aren’t intruding at all! But if that's what you want I won't argue with it. Just go and choose which one you want to sleep on and I’ll go get you some blankets and pillows.” She gives him one last smile before quickly making her way through the living room and the hallway and disappearing upstairs.

Anti gets up and pushes his chair in before going over to the couch looking them over before sitting on the softest looking one and practically melting into the cushions. He knows that he should head home, that he really should sleep at a strangers house, especially when they aren’t an ego or anything like that. But he’s just so tired and comfortable that he never wants to leave. He closes his eyes listening to the song that just begins playing as Liru comes back with a few blankets and pillows.

“Alright then, here you are.” She goes and sets the pile next to him so he can set up his area however he likes. He sits up looking at them before looking up at her.

“Thank you.” He says in a quiet voice and he looks at the t.v. thats playing the song and she looks as well with a small smile and sings along with the last of Rose’s part.

“I like the way… Human beings play.”

Anti quickly snaps his attention to her, rather shocked that she’s singing along.

“And I like playing along,

Oh- oo, oh oh, woh oh.”

She looks at him and giggles seeing the look on his face. He looks away, his face turning a deep red.

“Goodnight honey, sleep well. You can watch anything you’d like or listen to anything, just turn it off if you leave before I’m up okay?” He nods in agreement and she makes a small sound of satisfaction before going back upstairs, Izzy getting up and quickly following after her while Marvin the Cat stays behind.

Anti gets up and makes his little makeshift bed, deciding to let the music play to help him sleep. As soon as he’s under the blankets the white cat hops up and lays on his chest and begins to purr. He smiles a little at the cat and reaches up letting it sniff his hand before it rubs its face into his hand. He pets the cat becoming rather tired from the purring that made him feel safe and if he didn’t know any better he’d think the scar was beginning to fade just by the feel of it.

“Ya know,” He says quietly to the cat who looks at him while he scratches under its chin, “You’re a lot nicer than my brother Marvin, you even seem like you care.”

The cat looks at him with a confused look and for a second Anti almost thinks he can understand him.

“Your owner is really nice too. I think that's the first meal that hasn’t been brought to me by JJ or hexed by Marvin. The human obviously,” He pets the cat's head who just stares at him with an almost worried look. “You’re too cute for that anyway.”

He smiles as he looks up at the ceiling, setting his hand on his stomach and the cat rubs its head against his chin as it sprawls out over him. He smiles a little hoping the blonde wouldn’t mind him coming back as he closes eyes and quickly falls asleep.

Meanwhile Liru is crawling into bed in an pink satin shirt that used to belong to her Fajrokraĉulo before he died. She takes a shaky breath as she covers herself staring at the ceiling through the dark while Izzy sleeps at the foot of her bed. She normally tries to stay up for at least a couple hours after dinner but the more she’s away from any of her soul-mates the more drained she gets. But it’s not like she’s gonna tell them that. They don’t need to worry about that.

She closes her eyes, rolling over laying there for a few minutes until she feels the spot next to her dip. She opens her eyes almost immediately at the familiar soul and damn near cries at the sight of her youngest son sitting on his knees next to her in pajamas and his oversized purple and black patch work jacket.

She moves the covers out of the way and he, just as quickly, crawls next to her and curls into her when she covers them both back up. She pulls him close before he latches to her burying his face into her shirt.

“I miss them.” Comes his muffled whispers.

“I miss them too sweetie.” She whispers into his brown and purple hair. They lay like this for a few minutes, both of them beginning to doze off.

“G’night Mama, I love you.”

“I love you too, my little Nimbus Cloud. Goodnight.” With that, he dozed off. She watches him for a few seconds before closing her eyes, thinking about what's left of her family and the stranger sleeping on her couch.

Translation:

Fajrokraĉulo = Firecracker