KB's Bridgeport-y Junk!

[KB]

Okay, edited because I needed to put my other Bridgeport tomfoolery somewhere and decided to lump this all together. Here be my prose and artsies!

[KB]

Okay, so here's what I do when I'm bored and don't want to do homework. I need to spend my time wisely but gaaaawwww humanities reading is so not as interesting as writing monster storiessss.

She has some serious PTSD issues. Geez, suck it up Chloe; things could be so much worse.

Also, I had no idea where I was going with this, and I'll probably keep it going, but I didn't initially intend it to feature the Stanton brothers so predominantly. Gah, mush.

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Her head was pounding in rhythm with the flickering sound of the shoddy fluorescent lights. Her eyes felt bruised and, rather than open them, her brows drew down so that her eyes were clenched shut even more in an attempt to relieve the pressure.

"Chloe."

The back of her head was stinging, and she was pretty sure the thick substance dripping steadily down her back was connected to that stinging.

"Chloe, look at me."

She didn't want to. The man addressing her, the one with the youthful but rough male voice that was full of irritation, heaved a sigh before he continued; this time it was from farther away.

"You know what? Fine; don't look." He returned to stand in front of her, his talons hooking into her mouth and prying her jaws apart. She didn't struggle. "But I just want you to know."

The nerves of her largest fang, the one on the left side, tingled uncomfortably as pliers clamped onto it. Her eyes snapped open, blinded by the sickly yellow light, and she began struggling. One of the man's knees pressed against her chest, helping to press her more firmly against the concrete wall.

"This wasn't what I wanted, either."

Chloe gasped, pain causing her entire mouth to throb. She sat up, the crown of her head brushing the underside of a dark oak deck. Her talons went to her face, claws brushing the jagged scars that marred her lips. She opened her mouth slightly, one finger brushing the section of gums that should've still held teeth.

A breath she hadn't known she'd been holding in suddenly rushed out. It had been a month and she was still having nightmares. She rubbed the bridge of her muzzle, slouching forward and feeling extremely tired. This same flashback greeted her time and time again, every time she closed her eyes. Even after the other bruises and cuts had faded, she still had to deal with the dreams and the unabating pain in her mouth. She was sure it was all in her head.

After a moment the gremlin felt around for her glasses, finding them and cleaning them with the hem of her shirt. She then slid the thick black frames onto her snout and glanced up, her large ears flicking upwards and bending at odd angles as they pushed against the deck's flooring. It was dewy and gray outside; the hazy twilight hour that signalled an oncoming sunrise. Chloe's form condensed, becoming small enough that she could walk out from under the deck without having to stoop. Once out, she glanced around cautiously to confirm that she was alone before her form grew to a height of around five and a half feet.

She curled up on the cushioned lounged chairs for a while, utilizing as much of this quiet time in which most everyone else was still asleep to its fullest. She rarely had the opportunity to just relax anymore; always small, always running and hiding, always foraging for scraps. Chloe missed being still and being normal.

The sun was well above the tree line when her eyes fluttered open, snapping wide as she realized she'd fallen asleep. Across from her, a man occupied another lounge chair; he wore khaki slacks and a crisp white dress shirt under a deep blue sweater. Chloe noted the light blue argyle pattern sewn into it, only visible after you stared for a while.

"I didn't want to wake you," he began, and Chloe's peachy-pink gaze drifted up to study his red irises. He had a tone in his voice. Amusement? Softness? She didn't bother thinking about it.

"You don't have to sleep out here on a lounge chair, you know."

"I didn't."

"You didn't?"

"No."

A silver brow raised in question.

"I slept under the deck."

Paste laughed. He was teasing her moreso than reprimanding, but she felt bad anyway. She shouldn't have told him, but of course she seemed compelled to have people feel sorry for her.

"I have a guest room, Chloe, and you know you're more than welcome to it."

I didn't want anything bad to happen. You've seen what I can do; you want your house burnt down or something?

She refrained from saying that. Instead, her shoulders rose and fell. "I kinda like staying outdoors. After so long it kind of grows on you."

She smiled, and Paste tried to ignore the gaps in her teeth. It was a sensitive subject, and Chloe never wanted to talk about it. He'd didn't blame her. She refused to admit it, but he knew what had happened. And he hoped that Liam was counting his lucky stars that he had disappeared from Bridgeport. Paste wasn't certain what exactly would happen were he to run into Chloe's brother again.

Way to Hulk out, bro; I didn't think you had it in you. Cut's laughter drifted through his brother's mind, and Paste wasn't sure whether he should smile or be disgruntled. He settled for merely ignoring the comment altogether.

"Well, now that I've caught you before you can run away, how about some breakfast?" Paste stood, offering the gremlin his hand. "Cut should be down any moment, and I rather doubt he'd mind someone joining him this morning."

"You're not staying?" Chloe asked before she even thought to refuse the offer. She noted the slip up, but reluctantly let it go. She hadn't eaten in a while, and Cuttagon's cooking was just too tempting to pass up right now. She'd eat quickly, she compromised, then hit the road before any damage could be done.

Paste grinned as she took his hand but shook his head, pulling her to her feet and leading her through the sliding glass door to his kitchen. "I'd love to, but duty calls; it seems like its not a normal day in Bridgeport if someone isnt on the brink of wrongful imprisonment."

He went so far as to get her seated on a stool at the island that apparently doubled as a bar. "Now," he said with a finality that was echoed by the click of the sliding glass closing. "I'm going to go get Cut and start getting ready."

Paste turned in the exiting archway, holding up a finger before hesitating. He wondered if the statement was really necessary, but knowing Chloe he felt it was better safe than sorry. "Just don't... Don't go anywhere, okay?"

Chloe's cheeks flushed a deep teal color. She nodded, looking either embarrassed or bashful, and a hand absently plucked one of her ears down, fussing with it nervously. "Okay," she agreed.

When another smile broke across his face and he disappeared into an unseen part of the Stanton household, Chloe looked down at the bunched-up tip of her ear, running a thumb over the ribbing on the inside. She didn't know why he insisted on being nice to her.

Scratch that; you know why, she corrected herself, and leaned her elbow against the marble countertop. She felt silly. Really silly. Why insult his intelligence? He knew better; she was a scaly blue train wreck with big teeth. Hell, she was a monster, and the bad luck was a cherry on top.

As Paste made his way up the staircase leading to his room Cut echoed Chloe's question. I don't turn down a chance to flex my cooking muscles, but I also don't think you're that bad of a cook, and I'm not the one she wants to be having breakfast with. What gives?

"I don't know," Paste said aloud, his voice echoing in the quiet of his bedroom. "I don't think she'd benefit from me as much. She doesn't seem inclined to talk to me, about anything."

I don't know about that, bro; she's not jittery like she was before. Remember? She's warmed up to you a lot.

"Not really. I mean, I guess, but she doesn't trust me. She's at least talked to some of the others she knows."

Maybe she doesn't want you to worry?

Paste didn't want to admit it; he felt like not knowing was worrying him more, and he'd already told Chloe he didn't mind-

Trust me. I have some kind of idea on what I'm talking about. Just give her time.

"Fine," Paste sighed, reluctantly conceding. "But in the meantime, could you..?"

"Sure thing, bro," Cut said aloud as the twins switched from one form to the other.

By the time the broad-shouldered, taller brother entered the kitchen, clad in jeans and a t-shirt stating that 'vinyl is forever,' he was met by a miserable Chloe slumping over her crossed arms and looking as if the countertop had been calling her names for the past couple of minutes. "Hey now," he said in a tone of mock disapproval. "My culinary skills aren't that bad, are they?"

Chloe seemed to shrink some at his unexpected appearance, or rather she did literally grow smaller. "I, uh.. No." She smiled weakly. "Of course not; it was delicious last time, and I know it'll be good this time, too."

"Then why the glum face?" Cut asked as he extracted ingredients from the fridge and pantry. Soon the smell of breakfast foods wafted through the house, although the aroma was lost to his guest. "I hate to see someone looking that disheartened without me wanting to help."

Chloe shrugged, rubbing her bare arms and feeling the tiny snags of her scales catching on her fingers. "It's nothing, really." She'd rather practice not looking mopey rather than complain.

"I call BS on that one," was all he said, but let it go. He was halfway through cooking and filling both of their plates when she spoke again.

"Alright..."

I didn't think she'd say anything, Paste's voice commented to his brother. Cut tended to agree; the girl was kind of tight-lipped, even if she did have a terrible poker face. Still, she seemed to be forcing herself to make an effort. When he glanced back at her Chloe was staring hard at her hands, her brow furrowed. Cut discreetly turned away when she looked up.

"It's just kinda... A drag, you know? Being-" She gestured at herself even though her company wasn't looking. "Like this. Looking like this, causing all these problems. I can't figure out why you and your brother are so nice. I've wrecked how many rooms in your house?"

A plate with bacon, eggs, hashbrowns, and fresh tomatoes was placed in front of her. Cut turned off the stove and pulled a stool around to sit opposite her with his own food. He nodded solemnly as she began cutting into her food with the edge of her fork. "I can see how that could get you down, I guess. At least the bad luck part." He bit into a strip of bacon before pointing at her with the remaining section. "You might not be able to stroll into the local gas station without surprising anyone, I guess, but you're not bad off. I know about these things."

He sounded like an authority on all things monster-y. Chloe smiled in spite of herself, but wouldn't express any of her other discrepancies concerning her looks. She'd never even had girl talk with a girl, so she was not about to give it a try with Paste's brother of all people. Plus, he was human. How well could he grasp how it felt to look like a giant reptile-thing?

"That aside," she mumbled around a tomato, "I still destroy things. I'm dangerous; I can't even control when, how, and to whom these things happen. Like a time bomb."

Her ears bobbed as she shook her head. "I know the whole 'it's not your fault' and 'you can't help it' deal, but it's what I am. I'm supposed to be bad luck. That kind of thing can make anyone gloomy, let me tell you."

She pushed her eggs around some before spearing a few lumps and eating them. The pair finished their breakfasts in silence, and Cut picked up their plates to rinse them off. After he finished, he came to stand in front of her and the bar.

"I know you're not exactly human, but you're still a person. You have a choice to be whatever you want to be, and where there's a will, there's a way. Sometimes those ways are just hard to find. But they're gonna be a whole lot harder if you're not even looking."

The gremlin blinked up at him, initially thinking him crazy. He smiled while she was busy being bewildered, then announced that he had to go do some things around the house. Chloe was still brooding over what Cut had said when his brother made his way into the kitchen moments later.

"You okay?" He asked as he entered, adjusting the collar of his suit and trying to look rushed despite wanting to continue the conversation between Chloe and Cut and reassure her about everything.

Chloe glanced at him, her expression conflicted for a moment before a rare, warm smile bloomed across her scarred countenance.

"Yeah," she replied. "I think I just had one of the most important pep talks of my life." Her gaze shifted to the backyard.

Somehow, today suddenly felt different.

Paste watched her curiously as she stood, looking purposeful, and started to head out of the back door. She paused as if she'd forgotten something, dashed back to Paste's side, and, her cheeks getting all teal again, gave him a peck on the cheek. His eyes widened.

"Tell your brother I said thank you, please!" She called before disappearing into the backyard and the surrounding tree line.

Oooooo, said Cut in the most juvenile manner possible, and Paste's surprise gave way to exasperation. "Shut up," he said aloud, half-heartedly.

[KB]

I done drew some stuffs. Crappy iPhone photos but stuffs nonetheless!
Are they too huge? I could link them if they are.

i635.photobucket.com/albums/uu73/anitriks/image-4.jpg

A tiny Angel, being mopey. I glimpse mention of a hair change, so the character sheet I glanced at is inaccurate I presume. Ah well, there can be more. :3

And the Malcom beside her. I apologize. Man oh man, that didn't work out.
I'm gonna start the Malcom x Angel fanclub, btw.

i635.photobucket.com/albums/uu73/anitriks/image-3.jpg

Okay, better Malcom. Anyone realized I suck at profiles? Anyone? Yeah. I think he looks a little meatier, but I like his moustache! And yes, that is a My Little Cthulhu; how astute of you to realize!

Also, Monty! He done gauged his ears.

i635.photobucket.com/albums/uu73/anitriks/image-2.jpg

The one that started the Bridgeport binge: Zelia. Being elegantly sad-looking. Or trashy. She can go either way. I'm excited to make her life miserable play her some more!



Arrerrrrrrhjdifbfjfif I feel like I'm coming down with something. I think the blackberries I ate weren't good anymore. :/

[Clairice-Sarah]

Fanclubyesyesyesyes. I missed you and your arts and your writing so hard. WELCOME BACK.

I know it's on her twitter page and I thought I put it on her profile, but here's the link to her new 'do: i10.photobucket.com/albums/a145/Ikaaro/angelnewhair.png

[KB]

Believe me, I missed it too; I've been so busyyyy.

Ohgod I just finished reading the Angel/Malcom stuff and I died, I mean I literally died. Like someone shot crack into my eyes and rubbed it in with lead-based paint. Freakin' janitor? What? I think I love you two.

Aww, her hair is cute. I'mma do her up something special. You pro'lly did put it in there; I just didn't check. Shame on me. :x

I'm trying to come up with a monumental screw up for Monty to have to work out next. Then Zelia. Then I take over the world.

[scribblerrigby]

Malcolm would have that on a shirt.

But, AWWW, Chloe story. Aww...I liked it! I want to play with you, tooo...I miss your characters!

[Clairice-Sarah]

=D Angel and Fin are so dysfunctional AND IT'S SO EXCITING. Also, just wait for where that thread is going ;D

Laurel can't wait to hang out with Monty. Just saying.

[KB]

You tell me one the he wouldn't have on a shirt, eh? I mean really.
I wish to play with you guys, too! Insert me bobbing up and down excitedly here. :3

Man, I'm eager to see what crazy tricks youse guys have up your sleeves. And I dunno how Laurel will feel about Monty after his shenanigans. D:

[KB]

Zelia is just a big, tall glass of depressing, ain't she? She should find a hobby, like fighting crime. Or crocheting. That's a time killer.

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"We need to talk," Zelia said abruptly, shifting gears in the derelict Crown Victoria. A few weeks ago she'd actually managed to spray paint - shoddily, mind you - TAXI across the sides in shaky black letters, followed by her cell phone number over the rear tires. It didn't seem professional in the least, but it helped; she'd doubled her business with those additions, and she didn't ask for much nor discriminate on who her fares were.

About? Inquired the lazy, uninterested voice that seemed to always be floating around in her head.

"Your feedings," the girl replied almost timidly. A shaky hand brushed some of her bushy, curly hair behind one ear. 

She'd thought that having been cursed with an unborn vampire meant that she didn't age either, but lines of stress and worry still manage to creep into her face and around her eyes. As well, little curls had begun graying here and there. She didn't feel old, and she supposed if she was being generous she didn't really look old either; Zelia simply looked stressed out.

Maybe the tale about children turning their mothers' hair gray was true. Why wasn't she completely gray or white by now, then?

Her son, Tobias, ignored her trivial musings; his mother always seemed to let her mind wander to stupid things as of late. Instead, he shifted within her womb and she imagined an amused grin when he chose to reply.

And what about them? I hope you're not going to make a plea for me to settle for those disgusting things your little friend makes. I barely tolerate your infatuation with the girl as it is. Count yourself lucky I allow you this much. His laughter caused her to wince before he added, Unless you'd like me to remind you of the alternatives?

Zelia's eyes bugged, but she forced herself to take a calming breath. She shook her head, glancing out over the port as it flashed between buildings.

"No," she said, sounding defeated. "You know I don't want that."

She could feel his smug satisfaction turn quickly to irritation as she inhaled to add a 'but.'

No. No but's. Need I remind you who's in charge here?

Her hands froze at the wheel and she gasped, watching helplessly as the car began drifting into the oncoming lane. She regained control and swerved out of the way of a minivan whose horn blared offensively in her ear as it passed.

I can make or break you, darling mother. His voice sounded malicious, and her eyes welled with tears from the near-collision and the black weight of hopelessness that he cast on her heart. I think sometimes you forget how this works: I call the shots. I am the priority. You are the vehicle. You are my minion and my servant. Your needs are my concern only when I am feeling particularly indulgent.

She felt sick, and said as much as she pulled into a gas station and jerked open the car door. Her breakfast was soon splattered all over the pavement.

Tobias laughed. His mother was informed that she was disgusting. She concurred.

Zelia was disgusted by what she'd become. She was revolted by how her life had turned out, but more so by how she'd handled everything.

She wondered idly if it wasn't worth another shot trying to rid herself of her parasitic offspring. He answered her question by having her smack her face into the steering wheel.

She grabbed a tissue from the box under her seat to dab at the blood, then spit out a tooth and smiled at a possible fare. He smiled back, if not a bit awkwardly. They negotiated price, and she went back to work.

Hopefully the day would be a busy one.

[KB]

These little stories just get me more into and updated with the characters, trying to feel them out and see what to do with them. So far, I can only think of story fodder; nothing I think would be interesting for another party to also take part in. My plots are woefully uninteresting, haha.

So here's Percy: rootin', tootin' little werecat with a wrench thrown in her day-to-day.

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Percy was a creature of habit. She couldn't help it; after so long of needing to be in control, it was hard to let go. Having a routine made her life more predictable.

Every morning consisted of breakfast - cereal, oatmeal, cold meat, or leftovers - and two hours of running. Her route took her from her apartment in Bayview, down a few blocks to the college's campus, and farther into the neighborhoods of Bridgeport. A shower, a change of attire, and the next eight hours were spent cutting and slicing meats.

The only deviations came every Thursday and three days before, after, and during the full moon. Thursdays meant a day of not cooking her meats when she ate, and spending her meal times at home. The full moon days were always taken off, a ritual of preparation and a hike into the solitary places of the woods to be alone, to endure, and to feed.

So it was a little surprising when Percy wasn't given her time off.

"What do you mean you can't do it?"

Her boss, a large man with patchy baldness and skin tags, shrugged his massive shoulders and hacked off a shoulder of pork. "I mean I can't do it, Perc." He was the only person she'd ever heard shorten a nickname. "Ricky's had his knee surgery scheduled since last month, an' I was gonna take care o' things on my own 'cause I know you got that huntin' trip you do. But you's already said it's only huntin', and it's my little girl gettin' married. You can move it back, can't cha?"

She gaped. The butchery showroom's sales ruckus was muffled by thick brick walls and glass. The back room's only sounds were the hacking of Boss's cleaver and the pounding of Percy's heart.

"Y-yeah. Yeah. Sure. For your girlie's wedding, mate? No problem." Her reply had started out choked, but became flowing and convincing as she continued. The jovial grin and congratulations that followed completely concealed the terror she was experiencing inside.

Shit, shit, shit! How could he do this to her? He knew she always took that hunting trip. Every month. Always. Those were the only days she ever took off. Ever.

But this is his girl's wedding. All he knows is that you go up to the woods;  the woods'll be there next week. No big deal, right

Oh god, how was she going to do this?

Okay. Calm down, Percy told herself as she left the meat shop that evening. She'd been feeling ill after that conversation, and she'd expected it to subside eventually. It hadn't. You can do it. It's only the evenings. You can be out of there before moon-rise, no sweat.

Then where would she go? She lived in an apartment complex with paper-thin walls and way too many potential victims. Percy hadn't made connections; she had no clue where to go on such short notice.

The meat locker? No; she doubted she could get out when changed, let alone once she was human again. Her stomach turned over, made her queasy.

She had two days to figure this out. Talk about short notice.

After an afternoon meal and a lot of water divided between her plants and her own anxious sipping, Percy exited her shabby apartment once more. She'd have to find or rent a place, she'd concluded. If any place in Bridgeport could have what she was looking for, it would be the industrial district. Big, thick-walled factories that would more than likely be empty at night. No one to hear any unusual roars and The banging of something heavy against the walls.

The girl headed in that general direction, her hands in the pockets of a pair of dark grey corduroy overalls; a violently orange shirt with Ren and Stimpy blazoned across her chest making her look like a rebellious youth with a chip on her shoulder. A big, furry, monster-y chip. She passed bustling shops and quite a few other pedestrians before the crowds thinned and the inviting buildings gave way to larger businesses and huge chain-link fences.

The girl's expression grew darker, and her shoulders pushed more and more up as she hunched, irate for the first time in nearly three years. She wasn't going to find anything.

Woah, woah, woah, Negative Nel, she actually halted her stride, surprised at herself. You're a bloody Kelly, man; a little hiccup can't seriously be this bad. Percy scrubbed her face with her hands. It had to be the looming moon; she wasn't this edgy otherwise. She would be fine. She still had options. No worries. Get it together.

This became a mantra as she tralled the buildings for sale, calling numbers and getting quotes. She couldn't afford any of them. They wouldn't even rent for that short of a time.

Alright. It's fine. It'll be just peachy. Completely okay. Yeah. Percy made a beeline for the nearest alcoholic beverage distributor.

[scribblerrigby]

AAAAHHH! Leave us hanging, why don't ya'!

(I don't know, KB - unless you have an idea of where you're going with this one, it does have other-party potential, I think...Maybe)

[KB]

I post 'em before I lose 'em (and I want to transfer them to the fancy shmancy notebook when it arrives. )! These are written with any sort of continuation in mind.

I've no idea where to go, although I think I could pull out a solution or wreak havoc on Percy if need be. Would be a good excuse to find some people who understand her plight, though?

[KB]

Okay, so I decided to (for the time being; maybe I'll overhaul?) remove Percy. I wasn't feeling her, and figured I can handle the characters I have until I come up with a really nice reason to have her. Or an idea similar to her. I wanted to flesh her out more, but inspiration did not strike and I wasn't satisfied. Eh.

INSTEAD. I draw'd something. I got my tablet loaded on my new 'puter, and while I have no PSE and I blow at drawing 'cause I'm so out of practice, I made something.


Fancy thumbnail! It's not done, obviously. I think they look wonky. I dunno.

[scribblerrigby]

Ahahaha, I love Laurel's expression, and the awkward and tastefully-placed Monty. XD

Well, I hope Percy comes back in some form in the future! I liked her, though I understand where you're coming from.

[KB]

Wat. I coulda done did swore I replied. D:

Monty's all about taste. ;]

I'll be fiddling with her eventually! This board needs moar were-things! :3