radruby


a good buddy

Just a little detail worth pointing out: All forms of blood are inferior to living human blood for a vampire.  Benny hasn’t had living human blood in a LONG time.  He just bit into a living being but didn’t properly feed, and his adrenaline and bloodlust are jacked.  He’s accountable to no one down here, they don’t get out unless he shows them how, and Sammy boy here - this giant throbbing bundle of human blood - seriously fucked his life, his hometown, his only friend, and damned near got him and his kin killed.  And Benny doesn’t just restrain himself from attacking, which would have been impressive enough.  

His fangs retract.  

Good buddy indeed.

Wolf Hairs in my Cappuccino

Wolf Hairs in my Cappucino

Dedicated to: MindMyChaos…


Year 2016, Kate Argent has killed off all of the werewolves of beacon Hills, all of the Argent family, and the werewolves families. She got Sheriff too. The only survivors are Stiles Stilinski, and Lydia Martin. Neither know the other is alive. Stiles left Beacon Hills to go study forensics at a college near the Redwood Forest in California, using all the inheritance money from his father’s death. Lydia Martin has not been found.

STILES
    It was a cold fall morning in Humboldt County California. It was just that time of morning when the local college kids gathered at local cafes and coffee shops to attempt to get something flowing through thier exhausted, sluggish viens.
At the RedWoods Java Hut it was mostly filled with hipsters, gathered in thier own pack near the door, holding fancy versions of hot chocolate with a -ino or -atte added to give it a boost of hipster flair.
The tall, lanky boy in the red hoodie pushed through the door, his head down as he navigated around the hipsters, trying not to catch any attention or make eye contact. His face was cold, and his slightly pointed nose was bright red from being outside way too long during is walk to the coffee shop.
He quickly made a sweep of the coffee shop, trying to seek validation that his sense of fear was problematic, it wasn’t real, there was no threat. He stared face to face, all human…right?
Stiles brought a shaky hand from his lint filled pocket and wiped his nose and scratched his eyebrow. It was safe. He was safe. No werewolves, no Kanimas, no Nogitsunes, no hunters, nobody was dying, nobody was going to kill him. He let out a shaky sigh of pretend relief.
"Hey, are you going to order or not?" a voice buzzed into his conciousness from behind. He realized he’d been standing at the front of the line for possibly four or five minutes now. Embarassment flushed his already redened face.
"Yeah…ahh…" He gazed at the menu above. No caffiene, I don’t need caffiene. He read all of the names of the drinks. Being at a university in the redwoods meant everything had the word ‘red,’ in it. Always bringing him back to red eyes, red blood, red cop car lights, Lydia’s red lipstick, all the red.
"I will have a large hot chocolate, extra marshmellows, and… yeah extra extra marshmellows. Please." He finally said. Stiles loved marshmellows. He gave a nod and walked away to stand solitude in a corner and hope to disappear into the walls until he could get his drink and find a corner to set up his laptop at. The thought of all the red wouldn’t leave his mind now. As if it had opened the gate to the memories and the feelings. With the fear came all of the sadness and grief. He had lost everyone to that monster. Kate Argent. Hot tears welled in his eyes, and he looked down quickly, hoping to avoid anybody saying anything. Lines of tears ran down his pale face, he tried to pull back the sadness and keep it inside. He couldn’t lose it, not again. He had to be strong, he had to Avenge his friends, his father, his love, who he never even had told he loved. Searing rage shook from his chest, and he felt acid course through his viens as the burning wrath he felt toward Kate Argent arouse. He looked up into the room, glaring at those around him, his knuckles white as he held his fists closed tight to avoid letting it all go.
"Hot Chocolate, extra extra marshmellows." The barista said as she scooted Stiles’ drink toward him. He looked up at her with a wet face from tears but a look of determined hate in his eyes. "Thanks," he muttered, he reached forward and took the drink. The confused barista stared as the tall, lanky boy in the red hoodie yet again, practically ran out of the shop.
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Beacon Hills
    The Hale House stood in burnt pieces strongly, just as it had since the first attack of evil on the family. The night in Beacon Hills was icy cold, with a gust that seemed to wrap around and try to crumble in frozen pieces anything it touched.
Lydia stood, bare foot and in nothing but a ripped night shirt staring at the house. She could hear it. The voices, they were screaming, they were begging, they were in pain. She could feel thier fear and desperation. She knew logically they weren’t there. But she knew she couldn’t do nothing either.
She took shaky steps with her cut up feet toward the house. She could hear it all getting louder and louder. The closer she got, the less sense things made. The house had gotten smaller as she approached, it was supposed to get bigger. That wasn’t physiologcially right. She kept going though, following the screams. She stopped when she realized it wasn’t the Hale house she was at anymore. Before her was the large roots of the Nematon.
"Lydia, Scream!" She heard the druid, Jennifer Blake scream at her. She clapped her hands over her ears, knowing that one wasn’t real. That was her fears coming back to visit her. She took this logic and uncovered her ears to listen for the screams she wanted. The screams of her friends, thier family, of the Hales, Peter and Derek. All of whom this new creature version of Kate Argent had killed a couple years back.
"LYDIA!" Peter. She could tell that was Peter. Peter had gotten her to bring him back in the past. However that was with an Alpha, right now, she didn’t have an alpha.
"I…." She stammered, where should she talk to? Where are they? She knew that the reminants of thier bodies were not here, but this is where thier screams led. "I am here. What do I do?" She got down on her hands and put her ear to the cold strong Nematon. She yelped a scream when a hand pushed from the earth and grabbed her by the wrist. She stayed frozen, staring at her wrist. Nothing had actually happend. That wasn’t real. She sighed it away and put her ear back to the stump. "I’m listening." She presisted.
"You need to get Kate Argent. She’s the Alpha." It was Derek’s voice, broken up a little and hard to hear, but she could tell that was Derek’s plea. Then, Derek added something that Lydia didn’t expect to hear. "Where is Stiles?" Derek’s voice had a tone of hopelessness when he asked, a sense of mourn and hurt. He wanted Stiles to be looking for him. That wasn’t possible to Stiles though, Lydia wanted to explain, because to Stiles everyone was just dead. He didn’t hear the dead like Lydia did. So Stiles had been able to learn that they were in fact dead, but could be brought back somehow. For right now, they all were trapped in the hell of purgatory.
"Me!? Get Kate Argent, she’s… A werelepard!" Lydia almost shrieked. She wasn’t Allison, she didn’t know how to shoot guns and bows with arrows. She wore heels and lipstick. She could investigate and use inteligence, but she didn’t have that skill! Fear and frusteration rose in her.
"Yes Lydia, and You are a Banshee." A actual human real voice said from behind her. Lydia froze and jolted around. Standing above her was Deaton, the Supervet.
"Here Lydia, I brought you these." He gently handed her a pair of thick wool boot socks, sweatpants, and a big thick coat, tucked in the pockes were also wool mittens. Lydia took them timidly, she wasn’t used to this. She realized then that she’d been in such a state of mind with the screams she had wondered through the woods again in the cold with practically nothing. Her feet were bleeding, and she had cuts on her arms and legs. She was turning blue from being so cold. She pulled on the clothes quickly and realized just how grateful she was in that moment that somebody cared. She looked at Deaton confused, and gave a small smile. He nodded and said, "Let’s go, my truck is over here. We should get you home, and I want to help. But you need to rest and we will talk about it tomorrow, Prada has an appointment at noon, after we will get coffee. I know how you can get your alpha and we can bring back everybody, but I’m going to need your help as a Banshee. We will do this together, as a team."
Lydia stared at him, taken aback. She nodded and accepted it. She was so warm in his truck, it was like he was treating her how she wished her father would. Never had he come to find her in the woods, to see if she was okay. Her parents never even noticed she would leave or come home half naked. She swallowed back the pain of longing for her parents attention, and tried to take graditiude in Deaton’s kindness. She thought about thier new mission, they were going to be a team.
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TO BE CONTINUED…