Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Taylor numbly tried to make sense of things as she examined the thing in the hospital window, a numb, pervading sense of disbelieving shock turning her brain to soup.

Bland, mushy, tasteless soup, with only insinuations of something solid in the murk.

What the hell happened? It was all so foggy.

She got… shoved to the ground, then tied up in the mud, out back of Winslow. With her own jacket?

Then…

Ah. A bucket of rotten, fermented pig guts got dumped on her face, with all the… juices that entailed.

Where the hell did Sophia even get that…

Oh, and the people. The trio brought some of their flunkies together to laugh at her.

The laughter , the bone-deep scrape of humiliation, the memory of it, burned into her mind with such vile ferocity that her vision wavered and swam.

She couldn’t remember, ever in her life, so fervently wishing that she could disappear, escape, from anything and anyone.

Pushing the thoughts away, she tried to focus again.

Right, anyway. Then…?

Then she had slammed the back of her own head into the edge of the curb with such force that she threw up, trying to free herself.

Or maybe that was just the pig guts. 

Regardless, right after that, she fell unconscious. There was a vague memory of some bizarre dream, but she couldn’t remember anything about it in particular. 

The slime, iron in her mouth -

Alright.

No, actually, it wasn’t alright, but that’s what happened, she noted with only a mild note of mania, as she slowly moved her head to the left, and the reflection followed.

Haha. Ha.

Why wouldn’t it stop following her movements?

Stop. Stop, -!

The thing in the window was mimicking her. Iridescent, pitch black scales twisted as she moved. 

It was pissing her off.

It mimicked her too well. Its haunting green eyes, split horizontally by a lighter shade of green turning into a darker shade, then split again vertically by a twitching, slitted pupil, refused to stray from her own gaze.

Its eyes almost looked like a crosshair, if she unfocused her gaze a little. Was that normal?

… Blinking felt weird. Why was... Was she concussed? She couldn't blink.

She tried to extend an arm to yank the curtain closed. Nothing happened.

She…

She could smell too much. It was hard to focus.

The entire building smelled like sickness, disinfectant, and birthday cake.

She could also hear too much.

Like the PRT agents outside the door, gossiping about… something to do with a Ward. And a new parahuman.

…

Wait a second…

The pitch black snake in the reflection paused. Its eyes widened, fractionally, as much as they could. The other clue was its slit pupils thinning into a razor-sharp line and its jaw dropping open at the same time as she did the same, staring with horror- into…

Her own eyes?

Oh.

She was the new parahuman.

She had powers.

That was…

Good? Maybe?

Oh. Oh!

Fuck, so she wasn’t going crazy! Goddamn it! Why the hell did she turn into a snake?! How was that in any way useful?!

The following thirty seconds were a frenzy of her whipping around the empty hospital bed, her new body moving with a disturbingly familiar grace and movements she’d never done before, her belly undulating and body bracing against anything with a grip to zip her around the bed’s edges as she looked around in a blind panic, wondering what the hell to do.  

The room was empty, her gown was empty in the bed, and she was still a snake. She couldn’t even talk.

What would come next?

They mentioned a Ward. She didn’t want to be a Ward. She didn’t want to go back to Winslow. She didn’t even want to go home.

Her dad would be so goddamn worried in that annoying way where he would pester and push her to share her humiliation with him, while simultaneously trying to walk on eggshells around her and not leaving it the fuck alone while also being powerless to actually fix anything, making the whole thing completely pointless in the end, forcing her to relive it and share it just to satisfy some dumb paternal instinct in his head that had to know.

It wasn’t his fault, and she couldn’t be too mad at him, yes, but it was still infuriating.

“We should let Panacea see the girl first. It would be borderline unethical to attempt a pitch to the Wards while she is still under duress and unsure of her environment. We don’t even know her name yet, it’s been an hour.” A masculine voice rumbled lowly, just outside the door, and she strained her ears to hear more.

Shit, she certainly wasn’t meeting any heroes like this! She couldn’t even talk!

Naturally, she freaked out, and stretched herself over to the window, clumsily rubbing her belly all over it to try and gain an anchor point of friction while her tail flailed around until it wrapped around the window handle.

Then with strength that shocked her, she twisted the handle and slid the window open until it slammed open the wall with a giant thud. 

She leaned forwards, ready to leap to freedo…

That was a long way down.

Right. Brockton General was eight stories tall. And of course, they put her on the top floor.

While the idea of splatting on the pavement like a long pancake right in front of the main entrance and imagining people’s reactions to it was kinda funny for some reason, she still wanted to live. Maybe. Mostly.

Escape plan ditched, she whirled around, debating the merits of pretending to be a stuffed toy and hoping they fell for it.

Or pretending she jumped out the window, then hiding in the room until she could slip away? Oooh, good plan. They already knew she was a parahuman, it’s not like they’d assume she was dead or anything, just a runaway.

She quickly wrapped the tip of her tail around the empty hospital gown, then wriggled around until it was hanging out of the window.

Then she let go, and wondered what to do now that she staged her own… escape?

‘Stuffed toy’ plan was p-

The door unlocked and began to swing open so quickly that she froze in panic.

Then something in her seemed to respond to the familiar, overwhelming desire to hide, and a strange sense of separation enveloped her as she stood there like a dumb fucking idiot, her snake body splayed out half over the bed and half over and out of the window, her head raised about two feet up like a periscope to dumbly stare at the heroes as they swung the door open.

For a moment, silence reigned as Panacea walked in, closed the door behind her, and paused, staring slightly to the left of her.

Then she stared at the open window, brows furrowing.

“... Wait, why the fuck did I come in here?” Panacea mumbled, scratching her head, confused.

Huh?

Before she could wonder about why Panacea seemed to give no fucks about the four foot long, wrist-thick -assuming it was a rather skinny wrist- snake on an empty hospital bed, the superheroine shrugged, turned to lock the door, then in four short, aggressive strides, walked over to the bed.

Before Taylor could have her heart attack in peace, the healer mutely turned, and sat on the bed.

Taylor shifted her midsection out of the way so the healer wouldn’t squish her, staring dumbly up at the cape as the teen stared out of the window, fishing out a pack of cigarettes from her robes with no regard for her.

What on earth was happening…?

“Dipshits can’t even get a room number right…” Panacea grumbled. 

… That was not what she expected Panacea to say about fellow heroes. Huh.

Was… did Panacea not see her, somehow? She hadn't even glanced at her.

Despite the trembling fear, she managed to slowly raise her tail, and put it in front of the healer’s face as she lit her cigarette.

Like, directly in front of her eyes.

Then she wiggled it around like worm bait.

Part of her expected Panacea to bite her tail, for some reason. Was that weird?

That was weird.

Panacea casually went to push it aside with her hand, but Taylor was fast enough to jerk her tail away, certain that now, the healer would turn and… and uhm… and, do something?

… Wait, why was she hiding, again? What next? She had no plan here. She just knew she didn’t wanna go back to her normal life. Not right now. Also, snakes were scary. She’d freak everyone the fuck out if they saw her.

Regardless of her flailing panic, nothing happened. Panacea just sucked in some of her cancer stick and stared out the window.

God, cigarette smell was atrocious, with her new sense of smell.

So Panacea… could see her? Or no? Maybe she just didn't care?

This was so confusing.

Panacea casually leaned back and extended a hand to either side of her to support herself.

Unfortunately, that meant her pinkie brushed up against Taylor’s side before she could move.

Taylor did the natural thing, and sat perfectly still, hoping that the healer didn’t notice, again.

Her hopes were dashed when Panacea’s head jerked to the right so fast that her cigarette flicked out of her mouth and flew off somewhere to their left, her gaze lowering to meet hers.

For a moment, they both stared at each other, wide-eyed, probably equally terrified of each other, maybe. 

Then Taylor made a run for it, turning and tensing up to try and jump for freedom, readying herself for a dizzying charge, a daring escape from the clutches of- the government, or something, a prison escape where she’d heroically run the hell away.

Instead she made it about half a foot before a surprisingly strong hand clamped down around the very upper part of her neck, squishing her cheeks forward as her muscles all decided to go completely limp. 

She might have made a sound vaguely like a balloon suddenly deflating, but she couldn’t be sure.

Her panicking confusion was interrupted by said hero straightening back up from where she’d half- vaulted off the bed to grab her, then shifting to sit cross legged as she brought her forward, face to face.

She felt like a wet towel, being all limp while being dragged around by her neck.

So rude.

Her neck fit strangely well into Panacea’s hand. It actually felt kinda nice.

That was a weird thought. Shut up, brain.

Panacea stared at her, completely befuddled, her entire expression a canvas of sputtering disbelief.

“... What the fuck are you?” Panacea managed, after a few seconds, her tone full of almost offended bafflement.

A slinky, what do you think?!

Unfortunately, her genius sarcasm was unheard and unappreciated.

She couldn’t glare because she couldn't blink, but the slight few muscles above her eyes managed a slight, tiny narrowing.

Panacea rubbed at her temples, staring at her like a… a… something confusing. Sue her, she couldn’t think, she was panicking! Why couldn’t she move?!

“How did I not…” Panacea started, glancing back and forth from her, to the window, then back to her. “How the hell’d you climb up here?” The girl whispered to herself, clearly not expecting a reply.

Wait, climb?

Oh. Uh… That was good, probably. Would probably ensure that Panacea didn’t connect the dots quite yet. Because this was goddamn embarrassing.

Unfortunately, that’s about where Panacea stopped speaking out loud, because nobody normal talks to a fucking reptile. Probably.

Which meant she had no idea what the healer was thinking as the seconds ticked by.

After a few more seconds, the healer decided to gather the rest of her up on her lap as she sat cross-legged in her new position, bundling her limp body into the bowl of her legs. The grip on her neck shifted.

A minute passed like this. Two.

Slowly, she relaxed.

Only then did Panacea let go of her neck, and slowly, she turned to side-eye the healer, confused on what to do as she rested on her lap.

Chiefly, she wanted to run.

Tempting as it was to run away from home or something, she’d probably rather be with her dad than with a complete goddamn stranger.

Even if she was in good hands. I mean, Panacea was Panacea. A hero, a good person, erm, probably, one that was her own age, and was most importantly, not a Ward. Fuck high school bullshit. Never again.

Panacea sighed, just as her vision was unfocusing and sleepiness was starting to overtake her, waking her up.

“Goddamn it, I don’t even want a pet… Whatever the fuck you are. I gotta read up on reptiles now.” Panacea mumbled.

Any relaxation she had vanished as she jerked awake, raising her head and rearing back in offence.

Panacea leaned her head back, eyes squinted in caution.

“If you bite me I’m selling you to a zoo.” The healer mumbled warningly.

… She took it back, Panacea was cruel.

As the healer gathered her up in her arms and got up from the bed, she just kind of gave up, because what the hell else was she supposed to do?

As they neared the door, she pulled in the… weird field around her, inside her. Or, closer, to her? Or just- dimmed its effectiveness?

Panacea would probably notice if nobody asked about the thick, jet black snake in her arms as she went… wherever.

She was getting increasingly nervous.

“Weirdly tame, aren’t you?” Panacea asked her, obviously not expecting a response as she took the stairs up to the roof. “Probably an escaped pet. Exotic, pretty. Your owner probably was rich as hell. Exotics are rich people shit. Medhall CEO? Not too far from here.” The healer hummed to herself, speculating.

Panacea thought she was pretty? Or at least the snake body was. That was... huh.

An employee passed them, but aside from a quick, dismissive glance at her, he didn’t seem to care, to her surprise.

For once, she liked her power. Or this aspect of it, at least. A dial was much more useful than a switch.

The roof opened, and she largely just went with the flow, because what the hell else was she supposed to do?

She didn’t even know where this hospital was. Getting home from here would be impossible even if she escaped. She’d probably get run over by a car or used as a lasso by a junkie on the way there.

Panacea called someone, asking for a pickup.

Ten minutes later, as Taylor had finished coiling herself into a tight, comfy bun in the healer’s arms, enjoying the mid-day view of the Bay from up here, a white-gold streak shot at them, then stopped instantly on a dime, floating over the railing with a concerned expression.

“Ames, what’s up?”

Her first thought was how Glory Girl was… erm… wow. Uh… whoa.

Wait, Ames? She remembered the last name for New Wave, Dallon. Ames Dallon? Amy Dallon!

Pleased to remember Panacea’s actual name, she almost missed the incredulous glance that Amy shot her as she raised her to Glory Girl like an offering, a wordless ‘whaddya think is up?’

Glory Girl stared at her, unconcerned, and Taylor panicked, pulling her power in until it was barely active.

Slowly, the blonde’s eyes widened, blinking.

“I- oh. Sorry, I guess I was- tired? Uh. Why do you have a snake?” Glory Girl asked, floating a half foot back as intrigue crossed her face.

“This is Coil. I have decided to make him my minion and become a supervillain.” Amy deadpanned.

Glory Girl snorted out a startled laugh, swaying in the air. Amy snickered a bit.

“Okay, but, seriously. Uh. I just- found her wandering around the hospital. Pretty sure it’s an escaped pet or something, it’s way too tame not to be. And I mean… who else could keep this thing? I can at least be its vet as well as keeper, until we find who lost her and get rid of her.” Amy reasoned.

Get rid of her? Fuck you, if you're kidnapping me at least try and keep me!

Glory Girl paused, hesitant.

“I mean… it’s kinda… cool? Can’t believe you’re just- holding it like that.” Glory Girl tried, expression twisted in a grimace of distaste. “And uh, if it’s temporary and all that, she might let you? How much care do snakes need? You know how she feels about dogs.”

Amy blinked down at her.

“I have no fucking clue.”

… Well, her day was off to a stellar start.

After some bickering and strategizing, it was decided that they would kidnap Taylor.

She wasn’t nearly as against it as she was when she realized she was about to fly in the arms of a healer who was in the arms of a known to be reckless teenage superhero.

As a snake.

Amy yelped when she tried to run for it, before with the valiant effort of both her and her sister, they recaptured her.

With a grumpy hiss directed at no one, she resigned to her fate and wrapped tight around Amy's forearms.

Halfway through the flight Amy started complaining about her arms turning blue, from how tight she was coiled.

Serves her right.

Taylor hated flying. That feeling of being untethered to anything solid was the goddamn worst.

At least Amy could tell she hated it, because she attempted to murmur assurances to her as she pet along her back. It helped, a tiny bit.

Introductions to Carol Dallon came mere minutes later and were predictably short, since she seemed more of a drill sergeant than a normal parent.

With a strategic application of her ignore-me-power, she managed to hit the sweet spot of complete apathy necessary for Carol to glance at her, think about it for half a second, before grunting out a ‘do as you wish’ before she left for a night time patrol.

The two teens stood there flabbergasted for a few seconds, before shrugging in bafflement.

Amy scrambled to find somewhere to put her in, before deciding that her new pet would reside in a gigantic storage tub that smelled like burnt plastic and play-doh.

It was also way too small for her because she was anywhere from four to five feet of scaled muscle and the whole thing was barely three feet long and two across.

She tried to run for it again.

She failed, despite her valiant struggles. Amy was surprisingly tenacious.

Amy panted like a dying hyena as she finally slammed the lid down and put a pile of books on top, staring at her through the transparent plastic, brow dripping sweat as she leaned against the wall the crate was sitting against.

“You are… a very smart reptile. Why the hell am I struggling against a burnt noodle? I need to hit the gym.” The healer wheezed.

Taylor settled down, absolutely exhausted and stiff and slow.

She’d escape later. It was too damn cold outside as night time crept up.

Her uncomfortable, uneasy sleep was interrupted by a towel being draped over her, before the bin snapped shut again. While startling, she felt much better with something covering her like that. And the darker it was, the easier she could sleep.

An hour or two later, it was interrupted again, but this time by a radiant heater being placed to the right side of her little prison.

Grudgingly, she shuffled over to the right, and hissed in contentment. It was on low heat, but enough to warm her bones at least, as the minutes ticked by.

Warmth felt so good. It was like her entire body and mind sped up, came alive. No wonder she liked being held by Amy so much, during the short ride up the stairs.

Five minutes later, a bowl full of water dropped into the corner. 

Taylor drank it dry.

Drinking as a snake was pretty neat. Like sipping through a straw the length of her body.

She fell asleep again before she realized it, and woke up to the shrill sound of an alarm clock, disoriented.

It was by far the most confusing five seconds of her life before she remembered what happened yesterday.

And the alarm clock was still beeping.

Amy Dallon barely stirred. 

She occupied herself with wondering how she managed to sleep for what must have been like, twelve hours straight.

Twenty seconds in, she was starting to consider the ethics of murder before she just gave up and decided to go and turn it off herself.

No time to escape like when your captor's asleep, right?

Chapter Text

Escape was not quite as easy as expected, but Amy made an error in containing her.

The books on the lid.

She put them on the front, and slightly to the right.

The lid also flexed. A lot. It was pretty flimsy.

Additionally, the books slid around as she prodded and pushed.

So, she put her head against the corner of where the books weighed down the transparent plastic, and pushed up, denting the plastic outwards enough for the books to slide, a couple millimeters at a time, to the right.

About three minutes of doing this, and the books were basically on the edge of the lid now, caught on the handleholds that clipped onto the bin to close it.

Pushing upwards with her head on the left side, the lid popped open with a pathetically weak click, unable to bear her godly might.

She didn’t fully open it, just enough to squeeze her head through in what she assumed was a rather comical display of her scales squishing and pulling back as she wiggled through the gap. Kind of like a cat trying to shove its head through the squeeze of a catnip jar.

… Odd mental image to conjure. She never even had a cat.

Eventually, freedom.

Now to turn off that goddamn alarm clock! Who the hell can sleep through that?!

Also, the room stank of messy teenager, so as she carefully slithered up to Amy’s headboard to reach the alarm clock on the other side of the bed, she took a second to reach to the side wall, and pull the window open, wobbling precariously on her perch as her tail tip struggled with the task.

The room, now slowly filling with the glorious smog piss shit and salt stained air so unique to Brockton, she swung her tail down to stop that shrill weapon of psychological torture with far more force than necessary .

In her defense, it was a genuine accident she would attribute to not knowing her body all that well yet. And the two were pretty much right next to each other, on the same height.

So, as her tail slid off the big button in a messy swipe that threw it off her nightstand but somehow didn’t turn it off , she entirely and accidentally whip-slapped Panacea’s face, and who could blame her, your honor? She didn’t even mean to.

She almost even felt bad for the split microsecond she had to process it before she realized that the slick wood of the headboard was too slippery to warrant such jerky movement, and like someone trying to grip a wet bar of soap, her attempt to grab on better merely threw her off like she was on a pogo stick.

She landed belly down on Amy’s face as the girl made sleepy, panicked half-cries like sputtering yelps of aimless alarm, her panicked reptilian flailing only managing to make her roll onto the girl’s chest, where she turned over onto her belly to stare at Amy, who immediately shrieked like a banshee, grabbed her by the tail, then yeeted her straight out of the fucking window.

As the world spun closer and closer, she managed to curl up into a ball before she fell onto the thick lush grass of the Dallon driveway with a muted thump and wheeze, curling up in pain on the cold, cold grass.

Ow. Owwww. Fuck, that hurt!

She grit her t- her gums together, tail twitching.

I will not kill Panacea. I will not kill Panacea. I will not kill Panacea. I will not kill Panacea. I will not k-!

Amy clutched at her racing heart, breathing hard and fast as she blinked up at the ceiling.

Five seconds later, realization bloomed, and she froze.

“Oh no.”

She sprinted out of her room like Hookwolf was a foot behind her, a high-pitched mantra of “ Shitshitshitshitshitshits-” trailing out of her lips as she almost tumbled to the floor on the last steps of her stairs, slid sideways for a foot as she turned to the hall while flailing her arms to keep her balance, then finally sprinted down the hallway to the door, jerking the handle down and pushing, practically tackling the door.

She bounced off of it with a thud, shoulder aching, before remembering that it swung inwards, then yanking it open, only for the door to remain closed and her body to be jerked forward from the unexpected resistance, smacking her head on the eyehole.

Fuck, ow!

A split second of bafflement followed before fury came because fucking Carol refused to let the front door remain unlocked for even ten seconds even if people were coming and going out of the house and everyone was inside, so she dashed back to the keybox, yanking the keys out and hastily unlocking the door.

“Amy?! What’s-” Vicky started from far behind her, and she ignored her as she finally threw the door open and sprinted outside, wide eyes jerking around everywhere to locate that fucking menace of a reptile.

How the fuck did it even get out!?

It wasn’t hard to find, thankfully. Pitch black scales like that, against sunny grass, was basically impossible to miss.

And it wasn’t moving.

“ Fuckfuckfuck-” She hissed, running barefoot onto the grass, almost slipping on the morning dew that clung to it like a film of water as she slowed to a stop, dropping to her knees to examine it as it curled tighter into a ball.

The snake immediately jerked its head to her, and before she could be relieved that she hadn’t hurt it that much, it hissed at her like a deflating air compressor with its mouth wide open, raising a tail to thump it onto the ground in some kind of intimidation display, most likely.

Okay, it was pissed at her. Fair enough, she just slung it out of the window like a fucking lasso.

It couldn’t understand her, she knew, but still.

“Okay, fair enough, but you slapped me awake, then fell on me! You scared the fuck out of me! I panicked! Don’t do that!” She whisper-shouted, scolding it with an accusatory finger.

The insolent thing stared at her, slowly closing its mouth, before huffing and trying to slither away with a bizarrely sassy-feeling flick of its tail.

To its credit, this time when she grabbed it, instead of flailing around and trying to wriggle out of her grasp, it just wrapped its tail around the base of one of the bushes, giving her an empty stare with a smug flick of its tongue.

She tugged.

Nothing.

She tugged harder, leaning all the way back, making bizarre grunting noises as her feet slid on the grass and she tried to backpedal.

Vicky went to the door, concerned and really confused.

Her expression blanked as she slowly blinked at the sight of Amy, red-faced with effort, barefoot in her pajamas, her new snake pet wrapped around one arm for the most part, except its tail which refused to let go of one of their bushes while her sister tried to pull it off.

All the while, it chuffed in a weird beat that almost sounded like a chuckle.

“You motherf… odamn… smug…” Amy growled under her breath as her feet slid around the grass.

Vicky closed the door, thanked the gods above and below that their mom went on a Saturday ‘social event’, and took a few steps back so that Amy wouldn’t hear her.

Then she burst out laughing.

Chapter Text

Amy stared at the window, brows furrowing.

That window was closed when she fell asleep.

It was cold as fuck outside, there is no way she’d just leave it open like that. None. Absolutely not happening. Especially so, because they never opened their windows all the way like that.

Security risk, according to Carol. Why allow an easy entry into the house? If the windows were cracked in that top-to-bottom way instead, nobody could squeeze in, and they could aerate the rooms just fine.

Regardless of that paranoid bullshit, they followed it. Somewhat. When Carol was in a mood, maybe.

Which meant… what, exactly? It’s not like the snake opened it.

She shook her head.

Whatever.

She probably opened it on autopilot after going to the bathroom in the middle of the night or somethin’.

Now… what to do with this smug little shit.

She glared at the snake in her hands.

It stared back at her ire with a bored, mindless flick of its tongue, like it hadn’t been such a stubborn little shit that Vicky had been forced to come help her unwind its tail from around their hedge bush before the neighbours started noticing them being weird on the lawn.

“I really should just sell you to some exotics collector asshole. Who probably has specimens in glass jars around his office and an evil cat to stroke.”

The snake couldn’t understand her.

Even so, it was almost suspicious that that is when it decided to dig the end of its sharp tail right into the junction of her elbow to shift its body, radiating smugness as she hissed in surprised pain.

This thing had way too much personality.

She had a long weekend ahead of her…

She huffed, and straightened.

It was a lot easier to put a snake in a box in theory than it was in practice. Mostly because when she grabbed it, it held onto her.

And it wouldn’t let go whenever she tried to get it into its temporary enclosure. It’s not like she could scrape it off like a leech. Despite wanting to.

She gave up, and sat on her bed, staring down at the snake.

“What, are you just gonna be handcuffs for me all day? Get off.”

To her surprise, it did just that without further resistance.

Amy blinked at its back as it leisurely slithered down her legs, over to her desk, climbing up her chair.

Did it just… hate its enclosure or something? The fuck was she supposed to do about that? It wasn't like anyone sold snake boxes or something.

This was growing to be such a damn annoyance.

She spent the next several hours watching Youtube videos about how to care for snakes. Most of them were in foreign languages, and auto-translate sucked.

The snake, naturally, decided to curl up on the edge of the desk with her, silently judging her the entire time.

Some part of her mind noted that it was looking at the screen a little too attentively, when pictures of snake species came up.

But, there was no way. It was probably confused about the flat, moving box. She doubted it actually realized those were snakes.

It was kinda starting to grow on her. Not quite cute, but... endearing.

She went to grab her coffee mug, only to feel scales, her power flaring out to show what looked like a completely normal snake. Except the color.

Turning her head, she stared at the snake, curled around her steaming hot mug like a roll of chain.

She poked it.

“Let go.”

It only tightened its grip on the coffee, chin resting on the little handle like a smug, cozy little scarf. It turned its head slightly, to stare at her.

A slow ‘blelelele’ flick of its tongue, almost mocking.

She poked it again.

It used the tip of its tail to gently wave her fingers away.

She groaned in frustration.

“Asshole!”

“I don’t even know what you eat.”

It turned its attention from the screen to her.

Something in her brain wiggled at the action. It was just- odd.

She had seen so many videos about snakes today.

None of them moved like this one. They were more like… half-present automatons, all instinct and little brain. There wasn’t so much present attention in the way they looked at things. Their eyes all just kinda slid over things, basically glazed over.

This gal looked at everything with her full attention, oddly intense and aware. Odd.

Thoughts for later. She could compare easier when she found more members of its little group. Maybe her genus type was just smarter. Like cobras were considered smarter snakes than garters.

“Fish? Frogs? Chickens? Rats? Hot dogs? Souls? What do you want? How the hell do I feed you?” She asked.

It tilted its head, clearly listening.

“Oh my god, why do you look like you understand me? Stop that.” She snapped.

The snake flicked its tongue, and did nothing more.

She wasn’t expecting an answer, but it was… kinda nice, to talk at something. Even better that it couldn’t understand her, couldn’t give a shit, but still paid attention. Made her feel heard without being heard. 

… It definitely didn’t understand her. She was just creeped out because the snake was creepy.

At this rate, Carol would throw her in a straightjacket. She was having a week.

A mouse showed on the video, and the snake’s gaze flicked to the screen, staring intently.

She frowned.

“Dude I am not buying you mice to eat. It’s chicken or hot dogs, deal with it.”

It let out a long breath, almost like a sigh , the back of her mind noted.

No. That was stupid. She was being stupid. It was a perfectly normal snake. Her power agreed. Even if it was a little too strong for its size.

She got back to watching the video.

Huh. Turns out, her new nemesis slash pet was a Boa Constrictor Imperator. And she had some growing to do, apparently, because average length of these snakes was about six to seven feet.

“…Okay, that’s a badass name.” She admitted.

The snake preened like a cat for some reason, raising its head in a haughty periscope, and she barely resisted the urge to roll up a newspaper and smack it upside the head for being so weird.

She gave a long, long look at the snake, whose entire head was in her fucking glass of water. Drinking. And blowing bubbles out of its nose like a ten year old.

It paused, like a kid caught with its hand in the cookie jar.

Cracking her fingers, she searched up ‘how to painlessly kill a snake’.

It side-eyed the screen for a bit, before pulling out of her glass, now half-empty, and retreating. Dripping water all over the side of her desk.

Another tick to something in the back of her subconscious, a little fragment of note, still unconnected to anything else. If she was more focused, she might have started getting concerned.

Instead, she was a bit busy trying to get her eye to stop twitching.

She was trying to do homework.

Trying was the imperative word, because of course, snake. Snake on her books. Nosing through her bag. Scattering her pencils and prodding at her elbows as it, for some ungodly fucking reason, tried to get a decent look at what she was doing, like the world’s most annoying, persistent toddler.

She had never heard of a clingy snake before in her life, but holy fuck!

It even kept crawling onto the books and staring down at the paper like it could understand jack shit of what it was looking at rather than just crumpling the goddamn pages like a little asshole.

Eventually, she gave up trying to shove it off, and used its coils as pen holders, for however long it stood still before moving again.

As the minutes ticked by, it moved from being on her books, to being on her arms, then deciding it disliked the constant moving and just moving to wrap around her neck like a scarf, chin resting on its own spine, just under her chin.

She was kind of wary and stiff for the first few minutes, because the neck was a sensitive area, and this thing was stupid strong for how medium-sized it was, but… it didn’t really do anything. For how huffy and puffy and annoying it was, still, incredibly tame for a snake.

It… felt pretty nice, honestly. Every movement was like a massaging caress, the scales were smooth and just perfectly ridged to add some friction and texture… it was a whole tactile experience.

That and her stiff neck loved it when the snake shifted around, trying to get comfy. Free massage.

She double checked. Triple checked.

Her whole goddamn room was in lockdown. She even dug out some old baby locks from the basement to lock up some of the drawers with somewhat important shit in them, just so the snake wouldn’t get to them in case it somehow got out.

She was dead sure that there was no way for the little menace to escape. She even caved, and used her power just to put it back in its damn enclosure, now with baby locks all over it.

Then, she finally went down for lunch. It was a whole thing on the weekends. Family ate together. Bleh. She hated it.

A supremely uncomfortable half hour of Carol basically trying to do a weekly debrief of their week ensued, a miserable slog of being reminded of her every responsibility and duty just to ensure she had no escape from her life, even on a weekend.

God, Carol was… all she allowed herself to think was that wow, resentment really festers into hatred when you can’t fucking communicate with the person. Because Carol was never wrong and her actions were all totally reasonable and justified and yet she still drilled into her for getting the snake as if Amy had made some mistake.

It was only Carol’s pride that made it impossible for the woman to back out now, because she’d given her the green light yesterday, even if distracted, and Carol was too proud to admit she made a mistake and demand she put that thing in a rescue center like she obviously wanted. So she was now trying to make it Amy’s fault, somehow.

Infuriating.

So, cue an entire half hour of trying to explain to Carol why a snake was the perfect pet for them, assuming they didn’t find the owner, which they probably would.

Amy wasn’t sure why she was even getting so invested, but fuck it. She was curious, snakes were cool, she had no real friends to spend time with so she might as well get a nonhuman friend, the thing was weirdly animated and had a lot of personality, and… she never had a pet before.

Cats were too messy, dogs too needy and dangerous, and anything else too exotic to afford. So Carol never let them have any.

Now, here was the perfect pet, for Carol’s bitch tastes.

It barely needed any time or attention, according to her research. Feed it twice a month, give it water once a week, and just leave it in some large, pretty enclosure and let it sit there. It would be perfectly content.

Well, usually. The little black demon upstairs was an exception, but that wasn’t something she needed to advertise to Carol.

Eventually she was released from her hell, and she finally made it back to her room, mood ruined.

Opening the door, she stared at the wide open window.

Just about to get on the window sill, the snake was still as stone.

It took more than a few seconds for her brain to process and accept the absolute fucking joke her life had become.

“Dude. Again?” She sighed, tiredly. 

So it did open the window before!

Honestly, she was fucking impressed. For a snake, that’s like… genius. Actually genius.

It didn’t move.

“I can see you. Stop being a suicidal asshole and just go back in the box.” She scolded it, frowning.

It almost seemed to think for a second, before choosing the sweet embrace of death, the stupid motherfucker.

She rushed in, tripping over books and bags and clothes and random junk, and snatched it out of the air mid-leap, a long hiss of annoyance escaping it as she clutched it to her chest, slammed the window shut, then raised it up and glared at it.

It stared back, unapologetic and unbothered.

She sighed, too exhausted and in too much of a shitty mood to care, moving it over her head and draping it over her shoulders, already going for her desk.

“I should just let you get run over by some hick in a truck, that’ll teach you.” She mumbled under her breath.

It curled around her neck, and although she squirmed at the strange, unfamiliar sensation, it still felt nice, so she allowed it. At least it made the little shit stop moving for a while.

It wasn’t until several hours later that she realized; she had locks on the bin. On the outside of the box.

How the fuck did it get out then?

While the snake was occupied with trying to knock over everything that wasn’t bolted down on her bookcase, she ignored the chaos of books and pens tumbling to the floor with a sense of soul-deep defeat, and instead she examined the bin.

Hmmmm.

One side of the locks was way too close to the heater, and the baby locks there were only glued on the top, not the sides. The double sided tape probably softened enough for it to brute force its way out.

… Shit, did she almost cook it alive? Why was the heater so goddamn close to the bin?

She stared at the track marks in the carpet, and shook her head.

No, the snake was smart, but it wasn’t that smart. That’d be fucking crazy. How would it even get the bin to move that way? Slamming its head into the side? Snakes didn’t do that.

Another viciously loud thump filled the house as another thick biology book hit the floor, and she cringed.

As if misery summoned her, Carol yanked the door open, and paused in surprise for a moment.

“Why is your room such a mess?”

She deflated.

“Snake did it.”

“It has no arms.”

“Exactly. No self control.” She nodded, as if that made perfect sense.

A beat of silence.

“Just clean it up.”

The door closed.

She glared up at the snake, whose head was peeking over a book to stare at her.

Slowly, almost deliberately, its tail nudged a book over, until it too tumbled to the floor, slowly flicking its tongue at her.

She glared harder.

Taylor was… honestly having fun, now that she had a full day and some change to get used to this new state of being.

The world was such a new and exciting place, with such a shift in perspective. Every random shirt and cabinet was a comfy nook and cranny to be explored, every bookshelf a fun little jungle gym, every smell and sensation so very new. Everything previously small and mundane was now a looming titan to be conquered, every closet a grand tower.

It felt like she was rediscovering the whimsy of childhood, or something equally magical. She never thought she’d get that again.

Or she was just going insane, but either way, it was kind of fun.

Being an absolutely uncaring menace was incredibly freeing.

She was annoyed at Panacea, so she decided to just kinda do whatever she felt like until she could escape, but it was also fun to prank her, or mess with her in harmless ways. Genuine childish games, not cruel ones.

Like hiding in Amy’s book bag, then popping her head out when the girl was about to reach in.

The startled cry she got out of Amy for doing that was incredibly funny. Her half-hearted glare warmed the soul.

Or just- being a brat in general, whenever the healer tried to restrict her freedom. Like knocking things over. Or unplugging things with her tail to annoy the healer.

Some inner part of her was worried that this was how people like the Trio started, that she was genuinely making Amy’s day worse in a far more visceral way than she intended, so she was very careful to make sure she was actually just being a slight nuisance at worst, rather than an actual bully.

The mere thought made her ill. Never.

She watched very intently to make sure Amy didn’t actually get angry angry, or sad, or anything like that.

Sure, her newfound… sense of adventure loved a few childish hijinks, but she had first-hand experience of where such mentality could lead, so she tread with relative caution.

Additionally, Amy glaring at her and grumbling was a far cry better than what she was usually like, in terms of mood, as she learned over the day with the Dallons.

Yes, despite all odds, Amy seemed happier when annoyed and bemused, because if she wasn’t that, she was quietly depressed and angry, staring at her homework with a sense of bitter resentment, or listening to incredibly sad music that only seemed to make her mood drop further.

She hadn’t expected Panacea to be so… normal. So real. Flawed.

There was some kind of dissonance between her image of the Bay’s greatest hero, contrasted with the bitter teenager she got to know over the day.

If she got a little too mopey, Taylor caved, and started to annoy her a bit. A distraction.

The healer apparently liked it when she wrapped around her neck, and Taylor liked it too. Necks were very warm. And Amy smelled surprisingly nice and almost… sterile, for how messy her room was. It was a good place to nap.

She… didn’t really want to leave, she realized, by the time dinner time came, and Amy came up with a chicken drumstick for her, eating on her computer while Taylor struggled to figure out how eating as a snake worked in her little bin, now without a lid. Amy had finally given up.

Her main problem with just… staying here, was her dad.

She wasn’t trying to escape because she wanted to go home. No, she was… actually enjoying her time with Amy far, far more than she had expected. It was nice, calm. No stakes, no pressure. She was just a snake, to the healer. All responsibility seemed to strip off of her with that realization, because what would Amy do? Punish a snake? She could just turn on her weird ‘forget-me-field’ and leave.

She felt free.

But she also vanished from the hospital, and her dad likely knew she was a parahuman, as did the PRT.

And most importantly, he was probably worried sick.

Problem was, she still couldn’t get home. She still didn’t know jack shit about where she was or how to get home. It was also incredibly dangerous.

People probably didn’t realize this, but the world got a whole, whole lot scarier when you were just a noodle with a head. Limbs were great, and she had none.

So, her plan to escape during Saturday night was aborted, and she brainstormed a way to tell her dad she was fine without putting her life in danger to go home.

Night time was pretty relaxing. Good for thought.

Amy put on a movie on the computer, pirated. The horror. To think that all along, Amy was amongst the worst, those who sailed the seven seas. Truly, one could trust nobody.

To her surprise, it was a movie called Fight Club. Probably from Aleph.

It was… much, much more thought provoking than the name made her expect.

“Wish I could do that sometimes, you know?” Amy whispered, leaned as far back as her chair would allow, gently scratching her sides with her nails. “Make up an alter ego, just… go. Let loose. Punch some assholes.”

She turned, staring with intrigue at Amy.

Her kidnapper was apparently much more complicated than she had first assumed.

Huh… interesting.

She felt pretty lazy, honestly. Eating probably made her a little lethargic.

It had been a very, very strange experience, eating. Almost viscerally uncomfortable, but familiar? Odd.

Eventually, it was time to sleep, and Amy left to clean her teeth, so Taylor eyed her box, then looked at Amy’s bed, and made a choice.

Two minutes later, a distinctly unamused healer poked her side.

“No. You’re not sleeping on my bed. Go away.”

She burrowed in between the pillows, as fast as she could.

Within moments, she was inside Amy’s defenses, unable to be removed.

The teen groaned, long and frustrated.

“Fuck, fine. Just don’t shit on me or my bed. At least you’ll wake me up if you try to run again.” Amy breathed out, rubbing at her eyes.

She peeked her head out from between the pillows as Amy eyed her, rolled her eyes, then dove onto the bed back first, immediately pulling up a blanket and settling in.

Oooh, blanket. That and Amy’s body heat had to be toasty.

She slithered out from between the pillows with some struggle, slithering beside Amy’s head as she gave her a wary, uncomfortable look, an inch from her face.

Wandering down the teen’s collarbone, she shifted and curled up on Amy’s chest like a weighted blanket, covering half her torso as she wriggled around and got comfy.

Amy slowly relaxed, pulling the blanket over her, just enough to shield her from the moonlight.

Taylor slept like a baby. The darkness, the warmth, the gentle rise and fall of Amy’s chest… it was just too damn comfortable. 

This wasn't so bad, really.

Chapter Text

“Amy.”

Her hand clenched on the spoon.

“Yes?”

“Yes what?” Carol asked, cold.

She grit her teeth, already regretting this. She had no idea how Victoria just… rolled with it.

“Yes ma'am?” She grit out, stabbing at her soggy cereal.

“Your grades in History, Math, and Literature have dropped below an A again. Improve them. It’s unbecoming of a hero to slack in her studies. We are supposed to be examples.” Carol stated, cutting into her bacon and eggs.

She had a million things to say to that, most of it much too aggressive.

Vicky eyed them with a pinched expression, but said nothing. At least she could see the friction there.

This… damn tired, old argument again.

“Carol-” She started, then bit her tongue at the sharp look she got.

Carol didn’t want her calling her by her name.

Not because of the obvious implications, no. Because it might become a habit, and she could slip up in public. Bad for PR, to not present a perfect family.

“Mom. I’m Panacea, nobody could possibly give a d-”

“We are not having this argument again.” Carol said, voice firm and quick like the crack of a whip. “You will fix your grades by the end of the next semester. That’s final.”

She inhaled, deep, exhaled.

What a pointless, stupid fucking waste of time.

Yeah, she knew it was such a teenager thing to fucking complain about, but she wasn’t a normal teenager, she was THE healer in the United States. It was absolutely meaningless to get an education or a job. She probably wouldn’t live past thirty anyway.

Besides, every hour she wasted in school was another dozen people she didn’t get to heal. Or another hour she could be using to do something much more productive, enjoyable, and engaging than school. Like watching paint dry. Or doing jumping jacks on top of legos. Or hooking up car batteries to her nipples then canonballing into the pool.

She wasn’t sure why she was this hung up on this one specific thing, but it drove her nuts. Genuinely furious. Seven to nine hours of her day, gone on meaningless bullshit that made her miserable. At least let her be miserable while doing shit with meaning, like healing people. 

“Anything else?” She let out in a hoarse, apathetic whisper.

“Yes. Watch your tone when you speak to me.” Carol said, simply.

She wasn’t hungry anymore.

She pushed her breakfast away, and made to get up.

“Sit down and finish your food. Do you expect us to throw it away? There are others who cannot even afford to eat.” Carol snapped, an unspoken ‘ you spoiled brat ’ hanging in the air.

She slowly sat back down, biting her tongue. More guilt-tripping bullshit, more… more…

Fuck, she hated Vicky for dragging her to the table, in this moment.

She hated Carol even more, and much more permanently. 

As she stared down at her cereal, a moving shadow on the table made her pause, and side-eye…

A glass of milk, slowly sliding on the table. On its own.

She paused, blinking in incredulity.

Yeah, it was just… sliding out of its position, catching and lightly spinning, like something was pulling it. Or shoving it.

What the f-

Carol went to grab her glass on autopilot, only for her forearm to smack into it since it was so much closer than it should be.

She didn’t quite get to see how it happened, or how the hell the glass managed to spin and bounce that way, but the moment ended up in Carol absolutely splattered with milk, everywhere from her stomach to her face and hair. The glass shattered on the floor a moment after.

There was muted, shocked silence for a moment as Carol’s face morphed into a mix of utter bafflement, rage, and embarrassment.

Then-

“Snnrrrrk-” She started, her hands flying to her mouth to contain her strangled laughter to little success, ducking her face and shoving for forehead into to the table as she helplessly let out muffled laughter behind her palms, and it just kept going until she was red in the face and wheezing, the knowledge that she had to contain her laughter only making her laugh harder.

A shaky, slow exhale came from Carol as she excused herself.

Vicky couldn’t help but join in on her mirth, even if she only snickered and giggled rather than the teary, choking gasps of laughter that left Amy.

Amy opened the door to her bedroom, only to jerk her eyes up as a long something whipped around above her.

Amy stared up at the dark shape swinging from the fan with confusion until she realized what it was and felt her brain go numb.

It was her snake. And it was currently wrapped around one of the blades of her ceiling fan by its tail, the rest of its body swinging wild and free as the fan whined and complained about the weight, spinning along at full speed, her snake’s head barely missing the walls as it spun like a top.

Amy reached over to the lightswitch, and turned off the fan.

As it wound down, the snake coiled its body up on the blade, staring down at her as it slowly spun to a stop.

Then it impatiently tapped one of the fan blades next to it with its tail, its eyes flicking from the switch, then to her.

Amy… flicked the switch back on again, eyes blank and empty.

The snake let out a hissy chuffing noise as it hung its body down. The fan slowly gained speed. The snake kept swinging.

Amy closed the door, and went back downstairs to stare out of a window for a few minutes, eyes glazed over.

Then she put on cartoons and tried to forget about it.

As they hung out in the living room, more strange things kept happening.

A cabinet door opened on its own as they stared at it from the living room couch.

The fridge cracked open, they closed it. Then it opened again. And their last hot dog was missing from the fridge. Amy wanted to eat that later. Fuck. Did Mark come into the kitchen or something? He could walk like a ghost sometimes.

Then, an entire fucking loaf of bread got launched into the living room as something fell over in the kitchen and that is when Vicky got really suspicious and started flying around the house, swiping her hands at nothing.

Amy side-eyed her, then the bread that innocently sat on the corner of the carpet. There were crumbs fucking everywhere.

“I’m not cleaning that up.” She declared.

Vicky growled, then turned to inspect the kitchen, and her eyes widened.

“Amy, one of our knives is missing. Call Master Stranger protocol?” Victoria snapped, all confusion gone as she flew to her side in an instant, hovering over her protectively.

Amy, naturally, paled, getting up and eyeing every corner of the living room like it contained an invisible assassin there to gut them like fish.

After a few tense seconds, a fake potted plant toppled over onto the floor in their direction, making both of them jump, then stare at the black mass it revealed, looking like a deer caught in the headlights as it side-eyed them, perfectly still.

Vicky stared.

“Is that your snake?”

Amy, rather than answering, glared at it, relieved and simultaneously pissed.

Then the light hit something as it shifted its head, and she paused.

“ What is in your mouth?” She demanded, mildly shocked at how much she sounded like Carol.

The snake turned to give her an innocent look, contrasted by the giant fucking kitchen knife in its jaws, comically large compared to its tiny little head, its gummy mouth and needle-like teeth clamped tightly onto the plastic handle.

“A knife!” Victoria gasped, disbelieving.

After a moment passed of her trying to understand the sheer absurdity of this bullshit, she startled.

“Shit, she’s gonna scratch the fuck out of everything. Carol’s going to skin me. ” She realized with a manic sound of panic like a keen, pulling at her hair, before determination filled her. “Catch the beast!” She barked, breaking out into a run.

The snake jerked, and with shocking speed, dove under the couch with a speedy wriggle-run sort of movement.

The next three minutes were a blur.

All she was certain of, was that at the end of it, two of their three couches were flipped, the carpet was bunched up in the corner, she was covered in sweat, there were couch pillows everywhere, the coffee table was half inside the empty fireplace, the bread loaf had gotten crunched and now there were even more crumbs everywhere, and somehow, by some absolute miracle, there was not a single scratch on any of their very expensive couches.

She liked those damn couches. They were comfy.

Holding the snake up by its lower half as its head dangled at eye level, she gave it a scathing glare.

“You. You little… How. How did you even get out of my room? You fucking goblin. ” She growled, shaking it a little.

It stared at her, and wiggled its tail, the innocent stare it held being entirely ruined by the fucking twelve inch kitchen knife it was still holding onto.

What the fuck was that even supposed to mean in snake speak?!

“Give me the knife.” She snapped, putting an empty hand under its jaws, unwilling to touch the blade while the little demon was holding the handle in its mouth.

Frankly, she was planning on using her power to slacken its jaws and let the knife drop. She wasn’t actually expecting it to do anything. It was a damn snake. She just talked to it because she was a lonely weirdo and it was kinda funny to talk to the thing like a dog.

Then the snake actually let go of the handle, letting it drop into her palm, slick with spit as her fingers snapped shut around it, before giving her a quick, innocent tongue flick, like it hadn’t just trashed their entire house.

She stared at the knife, and the timing of it threw her off for a second, before she brushed it aside. It probably dropped the knife ‘cuz its jaws got tired or something like that. Whatever. It couldn’t understand her.

Shaking her head, she rubbed at her forehead with a groan.

Then she snapped her head up, furious.

“Wait, did you eat the last fucking hot dog?!”

A slow, entirely too smug tongue flick.

Eye twitching, she stomped up to her room, ready to finally make those “Lost Pet Found, please call this number if it’s yours” posters she had been procrastinating on.

Then she actually got up there, opened her email, and bit her lip, staring at the absolute little bastard that was now gently crawling over her arm to wrap around her neck like a scarf.

Her fingers tapped the desk for a few minutes, before she shook her head.

It could wait for Monday, right?

It was official.

Her snake was a narcissistic ipad baby.

She blankly stared at her pet as it watched the wildlife documentary on her computer screen, enraptured with watching snakes do whatever they did in the wild.

She paused the video by tapping the spacebar, just to test something.

The snake languidly extended its head forward, staring down at the keyboard like a great machine would contemplate an impossible equation, millions, trillion of calculations firing off in miliseconds as its mental might sought a solution, green eyes illuminated with divine intelligence-

Then it dropped the flat top of its head into the keyboard with a limp thud, headbutting the keys.

Seeing that did nothing, it turned, and repeated then process, before dragging its forehead around the keys until by pure luck, the video continued playing, and it proudly curled back up around her neck, content.

“What the fuck. ” She breathed out.

The snake let out a short, huffy hiss, like it was telling her to be quiet, and she rubbed at her face for a minute or two, internally screaming the whole time.

She curled up in bed, warily eyeing her snake as it… turned the heater on.

It used its tail to turn the heater on, then curled up in front of it to sleep in the middle of the floor.  

She continued staring for another ten minutes, wondering what the fuck was going on, wondering how plausible it was that the snake learned how the device worked after seeing her turn it on twice.

A dog certainly wouldn’t get it that fast. So it was smarter than that…

How smart, some small part of her whispered, and another part of her didn’t wanna know.

Eventually, she shook her head, and turned around to fall asleep.

She’d figure it out later. It could wait till Monday.

Taylor was currently trying to navigate a computer as a snake while Amy slept.

The logistics were horrendous.

It was mostly consisting of her periscoping over the keyboard, then using her tail tip to gingerly, quietly, tap at the keys, one at a time.

The reason she was doing this was simple.

Amy had a computer.

It occurred to her, sometime today, that her dad had a computer too.

And the easiest way for two computers to communicate, was emails.

Thus, here she was, two in the morning, trying to very quietly make a throwaway email account to send her dad an email saying, essentially, ‘ hey dad this is proof im me anyway I’m with a friend and I will pop back up eventually, currently just getting my shit together but I’m alright and safe, sorry, talk later, love u ’. 

It took the better part of an entire goddamn hour, but she sent it.

Then she quickly logged out of her email, and rushed to close the computer as fast as possible, slithering back to Amy as she flicked the heater off.

It was… kind of strange, sleeping with another person, now that she was actually thinking about it. Maybe it was due to the lingering reminder of humanity in her brain, but it felt a little different now.

It was nice. She had missed it, since Emma decided to be a bitch.

Amy was currently sleeping on her side with her hands curled up in front of her.

It was… weirdly adorable. The grumpy teenager, usually waffling between sadness, boredom, and annoyance, had an expression of absolute calm on her face, her soft breaths rhythmic and deep. She looked like some kind of cute animal, tucked in and napping with its chin just under the rim of its blanket.

And she had so many freckles.

She slowly crawled her entire length up to the edge of the bed as she silently stared at Amy like she was seeing her for the first time, idly wondering why she was so fixated on the girl all of a sudden.

Amy really was quite… striking? Memorable? Pleasing to the eye?

L-like, objectively. In a ‘oh I just noticed’ kind of way, and none other.

Eventually she shrugged, and began to slither into the space between Amy’s stomach and the blanket and holy shit it was so warm and soft she felt herself melt like a marshmallow.

At some point as she tried to get comfy, grabby, sleepy arms decided to grab at her coils with a sleepy mumble, pawing Taylor’s mass up to the girl’s chest where they attempted to hold her like a plushie, away from the depths of the blanket she had initially chosen.

After a brief hesitation, she mentally shrugged and went along with it, curling tight inside Amy’s arms, then tucking her head under Amy’s palm to shield from any errant sunlight to come.

She was out like a light once more.

Fortunately, she would later learn that Mondays were indeed, cursed. 

Chapter Text

Mondays were cursed.

Amy woke up with a snake in her arms.

And no, that wasn’t why Mondays were cursed, actually.

She wouldn’t admit it if asked, but waking up with her weird ass pet in her arms was really nice. Sure, there were many, many problems with this absolute chaos demon in her bed, but the one thing she could appreciate was that despite its Evil nature, the Creature was weirdly cuddly, and had a lot of personality.

Not good personality, but damn, it had it.

Snakes being cuddly was, according to the internet, such an impossible consideration that nobody ever even discussed it or asked. Hers just liked her that much. Or something. Which was weird considering how much she hissed at Amy. Or was in general, a brat.

Regardless, she went to the bathroom like a normal person, got ready for school, then somehow, some way, she fucking forgot about the snake entirely before grabbing her bag and leaving for school.

That led to her first period going normally for all of five seconds before she opened her bag, and something whipped out at her face, making her let out a short, startled cry as well as almost jumping a solid couple inches above her seat from how hard her muscles snapped to attention.

The blur snuck back into the bag, and let out an innocent tongue flick.

A mixture of indignation, embarrassment, and anger rose up in her as she stared at her stupid fucking pet. How did it even get in there?!

“Miss Dallon? Everything alright?” The teacher asked, and she raised her head to see the entire class staring at her.

She was about to say that nothing was wrong, before stopping herself, because…

Because hold on.

She was fucking Panacea.

And her urge to hide the snake was… normal, she supposed, but it wasn’t like she was keeping it a secret. Who gives a shit if people thought she was weird for having a pet snake, it wasn’t like she was ever going to be able to make genuine friendships. Powers, Vicky, and people’s shitty nature forbid it.

It would also be much easier to get excused without getting an absence in her record, if she just spoke the truth.

So, she did, glancing down at the little dumbass before hurriedly zipping her bag shut. 

“My pet snuck into my bag.” She rushed out, nervously, and now everyone was intently curious.

Her history teacher raised his brows.

“You- there’s an animal in there.” He half-asked, pointing at her bag.

She nodded, ducking her head in embarrassment.

“C-can I uh, be excused so I can take it home?” She asked, then paused. “Without an absence mark.”

Her history teacher smiled, amused.

“Afraid not. I am literally, legally, not allowed to cover for you unless it’s a medical emergency. Can you wait for the lunch break or have someone come pick it up?”

“No. Would it become a medical emergency if I started headbutting the wall?” She shot back, annoyed, then flushed red as half the class burst out into laughter.

It wasn’t that funny.

“What is even in there?” Someone piped up.

“How the hell did you not notice?”

“It’s a fuckin’ cat, what else would it be?”

“Dog wouldn’t fit.”

She grit her teeth.

“It’s a snake. Can I take it home or not? It’s not exactly safe for it to be here!” She shot back, to the class as well as her teacher.

Oh great, now everyone was talking, voices raised in fear, excitement, bafflement.

And so many questions.

She felt herself deflating.

God, it was just a stupid fucking animal. Why was everyone this worked up over it?

“Quiet! Miss Dallon, is it poisonous?” The teacher asked, voice all severe and serious.

Venomous, she almost corrected, but bit her tongue.

“Oh yeah, this will straight up kill you. Extremely lethal.” She lied, deadpan.

If anyone said she lied, she’d say it was sarcasm.

Everyone gasped in fright.

The peanut gallery continued its questions and gasps and cries of disbelief. She largely ignored them.

She was busy eyeing the increasingly sweaty teacher, tugging her turtleneck up almost to her chin as she tried to will into existence an excuse to get the fuck out of here.

“Okay, that’s- we can write up that you had a fever or something.” The teacher shuddered. “Please take that home.”

Falsifying documents? Heroic, in her opinion. Fuck bureaucracy.

“Thank you. Bye.” She mumbled, suppressing a grin, resisting the urge to add a smug ‘losers’ to the end of that sentence.

She probably should have gone outside and ran straight home.

Problem was, fuck that. She was lazy and she was not walking for twenty minutes with her backpack on her just to put the little shit back in her room. Especially in goddamn Brockton. In the damp, shitty cold weather.

So, she waited in the cafeteria for Vicky’s class to be over. Air taxi express.

What a joy, to be allowed to do fuck all. Hell, she even snuck into the cafeteria and used the coffee machine in the back, since everyone else was busy in the kitchen.

Eventually, the bell rang, and she flagged Vicky down as soon as her class door opened, her sister giving her a confused, startled look before separating from her friend group, wandering over to her.

“Were you waiting outside for me?”

She nodded, lifting her backpack.

“The Creature decided to sneak into my bag somehow. I gotta take her… ba-ck…” She trailed off, voice cracking into a horrified squeak as her eyes flicked down to the backpack, and lingered on the zipper. The open zipper. The open zipper that she had closed.

Victoria yanked the backpack and tore it open, peering down into it before giving her a wide-eyed ‘oh fuck’ stare.

Amy covered her face, trying not to panic.

From somewhere in the school bathrooms, a shrill scream of genuine terror echoed out into the tables, making every head turn and every step pause.

Amy screamed into her hands, a guttural roar of exasperation.

Then she turned and sprinted towards the commotion as Vicky zipped past her.

The PA system fizzed to life as Amy moaned in indeterminate dismay, head in her hands.

Here it was. The condemnation of Amy Dallon, to be broadcast to the whole school. The-

The… speakers let out a fizzy, tinny hiss. Then…

The Mission Impossible theme started playing.

Vicky tried to comfort her as she let out another groan and curled in tighter.

Who the fuck hijacked the PA system at a time like this? The school was about to be evacuated at this rate if she didn’t fess up to lying about her snake having venom! This was such a fucking disaster!

It was probably Dennis. Fuck him.

After a few more seconds of moping, she got up and raced to the principal’s office to explain that no, nobody was in actual danger, her snake was just an escape artist!

Taylor was curled up tight in the PA box, basking in the chaos.

Nobody could find her.

She is invisible. She is power!

Gosh, this was so fun! It was like playing hide and seek, times a hundred.

She was starting to love being a snake. Limbs were so overrated.

Amy would have been a lot more worried about her snake if she wasn’t constantly running into evidence that the little shit was fine, and still around the school.

Evidence like people in Biology class swearing up and down that there was a new snake in the class terrarium and one of them kept tapping the glass and staring at them. And that the new snake stole someone’s Snicker bar, ate it, and disappeared.

That class would never be the same again.

She really hoped that one was a rumour, but she wouldn’t put it past her goddamn… fucking… grrraaah!

Another piece of evidence was that in the course of a couple hours, there was now a rumour that a magical snake haunted the girl’s bathrooms, and could grant wishes.

Amy thought it was a joke that nobody believed in until she went to pee after a long couple hours of looking around with some of the teachers, and there was a fucking pile of offerings in one of the sinks, including hairbrushes, lipstick bars, soggy Cheetos, letters with snake doodles on them, and a half-drank soda can.

Her snake had a cult following.

Amy briefly considered the pros and cons of slamming her head into a wall until her life started making sense again.

Taylor was sitting in the base of the vending machine over the power supply, where it was warm and toasty, stealing chips bags and hoarding them like a mighty dragon, taking great pleasure in swapping people’s items with equally priced but wrong ones right as they dropped down the front.

You wanted cheese puffs? Too bad! Oregano chips!

MUahahahaha!

A food fight broke out in the cafeteria. 

Taylor was never caught. Only legends remained.

Amy, after three hours of trying to suss out where the Creature vanished off to, was eventually pulled aside by a teacher and told she had detention. For the next week.

Which meant Carol would probably ground her… somehow. It’s not like she had anything joyful in her life to get rid of.

It was hard to get genuine clues about where her damn snake was when there were so many wild rumours growing around the school.

Like how The Snake apparently painted stars on lockers with lipstick if it liked them. How she got inside them, nobody knew.

Or how someone spiked the cafeteria food with way too much hot sauce, and of course, at least two random ass people said it was a snake that did it. Without mentioning the equally random food fight brawl that absolutely ruined half the courtyard and had the principal come out to give them a stern talking to with a megaphone.

Just… so much shit in one day should be illegal.

At some point, Amy was forced to give up and wallow in a muted, chaotic sense of worry, even as she got dragged to classes after so much searching.

Worry for herself, mostly, but also the snake. Snakes couldn’t survive in an urban environment, and if her admittely far too intelligent snake couldn’t find its way back to her, the thing would probably fucking die in a week. 

The constant reminders that her asshole of a pet was free weren't helping.

For example, someone kept writing ‘GET NOODLED’ on the classroom boards, apparently. Probably a fucking cultist. Because her snake had those now, if any of them were being serious rather than rolling with the joke.

Amy’s PED class didn’t go to plan either.

Balls kept being thrown into the court out of nowhere.

Her coach was so deathly afraid of snakes he was prowling around the edges of the room with a broom held in front of him like a spear, jabbing and jumping at shadows.

And all of Amy’s opponents kept mysteriously tripping. She won every game.

Something fucky was up, but Amy couldn’t quite put her finger on it. There was too much chaos for a single day. This wasn’t possible.

And then detention came, and in between dreadfully staring at her homework then back up at the board, she raised her head, and… the board was wiped clean, only the words ‘FREE HER!!!’ written on the board in jagged, chalk lines.

Her classmates in detention, all combatants of The Great Food Fight, were equally confused.

Amy gave up, and started slowly banging her head on the desk, ignoring the teacher.

Who- what- how- graaah!

“Nice scarf.” One of the kids from detention noted as she passed her, giving her a nod of respect and mild confusion.

“What?” She asked, pausing. The girl and her way too tight leggings, holy fuck, sashayed out of sight, ignoring her completely.

She raised a hand to her neck to adjust her turtleneck, confused, only for her power to flare to life to show a snake with too many goddamn cheetos in its stomach.

Slowly blinking, she turned her head to one of the hall mirrors.

Yep. That was her snake. Curled around her neck and shoulders, the turtleneck preventing all skin contact. It gave the mirror an unconcerned tongue flick, curling tighter.

Oh, that’s why her neck had been feeling so nice the last minute or two.

She gaped in bafflement for a couple seconds, until a lazy shift reminded her of today.

“I’m…” She started, growling, her chest conflicted with both intense relief and scalding hot annoyance for the amount of trouble she was in. “You…” She tried again, then deflated. “How the fuck are you so sneaky?!” She exploded, ignoring the concerned, confused looks everyone leaving detention gave her.

Whatever, fuck em! Could they not see the goddamn snake around her?!

Apparently not, because all of the goddamn morons just thought was ranting and raving at her scarf or something!

The ride home with Carol was, oddly enough, the worst part of the day. At least school was interesting today, regardless of how horrifically chaotic it had been. Vicky wouldn’t sit around two hours of detention for her, so she got treated to a half hour ride of Carol laying into her about dangers and lawsuits and reputations and fucking… irresponsibility, and how she should get rid of the snake already. 

God, fuck off. It was a disaster but it wasn't that bad. Her snake got back to her, somehow, so her main worry about leaving it out of her sight was gone. She wasn't going to think too hard about how, but her snake could find it's way back to her, and that was a massive weight off her shoulders.

And Carol would not shut the hell up!!

Maybe Amy just felt particularly stubborn today, but out of sheer spite, she committed to something she would probably regret.

Rebellion.

Fuck Carol. She’d do whatever the fuck she felt like, and cry about the consequences later, probably. 

She wanted to wring her snake's neck, yes, but she was not getting rid of it unless someone came up to her with proof of ownership!

And that protectiveness had nothing to do with how the snake would coil up around her neck and hiss under its breath at Carol whenever the woman would raise her voice at her, her sides deflating and vibrating against Amy’s throat, seemingly intensely disliking Carol.

It might be an infuriating little bastard, but at least it was supportive. She felt a sense of kinship with it, as she listened to it hiss. 

Yeah buddy, tell her!

She tried not to think too hard about what happened today, or how it found her again, or any of the numerous impossible logistics of a snake deciding to eat fucking Cheetos, because the mere questions gave her a migraine if she thought too hard about it. 

All she cared about was that school was not boring today, somehow, her snake was safe, and she was only grounded for a month. 

No computer. Oh noooo…

Carol literally could not come up with any other punishment because Amy didn't do anything she liked anyway, usually. 

Suck it. She was too boring to punish.

She flopped onto her bed, groaned, and then Vicky burst into her room like a wrecking ball.

“Oh, you did find it!” Vicky said, relieved.

She grunted, staring up at the ceiling with a blank gaze.

“Sorta. More like it found me. Like a scaly fucking… dog or something.” She quietly grumbled.

A scaled nose bumped her cheek, and she sighed, extending a finger to scratch her snake's head as it leaned into the touch like some scaly worm cat.

Fucking weirdo.

Vicky's expression twisted in doubt.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean it literally snuck into my class and wrapped around me while I was distracted. It probably followed my scent or something.”

Vicky sat down on her desk chair, brows furrowed.

“Huh. Guess it doesn't wanna escape anymore? Nice.”

Then they broke off that topic to talk about more mundane crap.

Like trying to convince Amy into another double date.

She largely managed to stall it off, but that wouldn't last forever. 

Eventually, Vicky walked out, and Amy tried and failed to keep her eyes up because Vicky in tight little dolphin shorts was fucking torturously distracting.

As the door shut, she groaned in misery.

“Why can't I just be normal and not wanna fuck my sister?” She mumbled under her breath, more of a whine really, hands over her face.

She felt something looking at her, and peeked through her fingers to see her snake perched a foot above her head, staring down at her. 

It kept staring.

Maybe she was anthropomorphising it too much, but she couldn't help but feel immensely judged. 

She scoffed. “What, you think I chose this? Fuck off. It's not like I'm gonna do anything about it.”

The snake gave a slow tongue flick, almost hesitant, before curling back up against her throat, nosing at her jaw. 

Its breaths tickled.

The rest of the day wasn't much better.

Like when she tried to go to the bathroom, only to find it locked.

Then she returned five minutes later, after hearing a flush. So the door swung open, and… her snake peeked its head out from the bottom of the doorframe, saw her, and they stared at each other for a couple seconds. 

Then with utmost nonchalance, her snake slithered back to her room.

Amy’s thought process could be summarized as “ ?????????????????!” for the next solid ten seconds before she gave up and pushed it out of her mind with supreme effort.

Her snake was normal, because she was not dealing with that bullshit. Everything was fine and normal because it just was. 

Then, lunch time, because she hadn't eaten jack shit all day. Thankfully, she could eat in her room. Carol might have felt gracious that day. 

Nothing was happening until she glanced at her desk mirror, and paused, intrigued.

Her snake was staring at a biology book on her bed, just behind her.

And it was doing a passable impression of reading, moving its head and eyes at a normal pace across the page. 

Then it used the tip of its tail to flip a page, and Amy tried to gasp through her food, resulting in her choking and coughing a lung out as her food tried to become lung fluid.

After she was done gasping, she stared at her snake with slightly manic eyes as it innocently slithered up her desk, then nosed at her glass of water, eyes flicking to her as if asking permission.

She numbly tipped the glass, and watched it drink. 

The way it drank was… weirdly cute. It was like it just sucked in water through the tip of its mouth, like drinking from a straw. She could see its face muscles and neck moving in slow, soft gulps.

It slithered off into her closet, and she stared after it. 

Normal snake. She had a normal snake. Her name was Amy Dallon and her snake was Normal. 

She drank whatever water was left in her cup in a single swig, and dove into her homework with alien ferocity.

Then, sundown came. She came back to her room with a fresh coffee ready to enjoy a comfy evening, opened the door, and stared at her snake as it shuffled around on her bed.

It was playing a mobile game on her phone with its snout. It was fucking winning . 

It noticed her, and stopped moving like someone hit its pause button.

She closed the door, calmly. Stared at empty air for three seconds. Then she slammed the door open, wide eyed and breathing hard. 

Her snake was studying the ceiling with intense focus, nonchalantly wiggling the tip of its tail, her phone laying next to it, screen black.

She stomped over, and opened it.

Still locked. She swiped to the apps. Nothing was open.

She dropped it to the bed, then collapsed into her chair and put her mug on the desk before hiding her face in her hands, mind studiously empty. 

It was fine. Everything was fine. Just stress induced hallucinations. 

Her snake was normal, and she would fucking prove it.

She left the house to go to a pet shop, and returned with a live mouse an hour later, in a little tub. 

Then she carried a weirdly unresisting Creature into the unused enclosure bin, and scooped the mouse up, dumping it in front of the snake.

She stared at the snake, trying to will it to do snake stuff. Kill the mouse, constrict it, eat it.

Instead, the snake glanced at the mouse sniffing around it's body with vague, recoiling discomfort before staring up at her like “why do you do this to me, mother?”

Amy grabbed a pillow, stuffed her face into it, and screamed. 

Chapter Text

Taylor was not expecting Amy to blurt out such… bizarre things.

For example, Amy wanting to bone her sister was such a sudden thing to blurt out that Taylor briefly wondered if she misheard.

How the hell was she supposed to react to that? It was bizarre, it was creepy, it was gross.

Then Amy succinctly said something that made her pause and think.

‘I didn’t choose this, and I’m not going to do anything about it.’

In a way, it was the perfect defense, because who the hell would choose to feel that way? And if Amy didn’t do anything weird to Victoria, then… what would she actually be guilty of? It’s not like people decided what to feel. It was how they acted and reacted, that mattered.

It was, oddly enough, reminding her of a philosophical debate she had stumbled on, talking about people with sadistic tendencies.

Was someone a bad person for wanting to hurt people? Most people would say yes. But what if said person didn’t act on those desires? Just grit their teeth and went on with their life?

Basically, is someone what their thoughts indicate, or is someone to be judged on what their actions show? It was a mix of the both of course, but said mix was far more favourable towards their actions than odd feelings and desires.

Considering the many times Taylor had, in the depths of humiliated fury, held some incredibly dark and concerning thoughts, she could hardly judge her too much.

She had, after all, once caught herself fantasizing about some villain invading Winslow and miraculously only killing the people who were actively bullying her, in horrific manners.

Were she to air that out to anyone, they’d think she was psychotic.

They wouldn’t know or care about the context of where she was when she had that fleeting thought, the mental headspace. 

The humiliation of being curled up at the bottom of a school bathroom, the times when the words would cut too deep and nothing in the future looked like something to look forward to and the empty void of air just past the railings tugged at her eyes like a poisonously sweet fruit, whispering ‘what if you just…’ into her ears.

She was very familiar with dark thoughts and feelings that she ignored.

So, it didn’t take too long for her to take what she’d learned… and just accept it.

Oh, she would be keeping an eye on the healer, just to make sure she didn’t do anything… weird, to Victoria.

But that was all. The girl didn’t deserve her scorn or disgust or judgement. Hell, she was freeloading in her house, half-pretending to be a snake. Taylor really had no grounds to be judgemental here.

She was being a pranking menace and loving it, she was not going to act like some paragon of virtue.

A lot of that charitable sentiment was strained when Amy put her back in the bin with a live mouse and just stared at her with a weirdly intense, expectant gaze.

She was not killing a mouse. She didn’t have the heart, damn it. Even if some weird part of her brain smelled the gross rat scent and thought ‘ooo food!!!!’.

Then Amy screamed into a pillow, and she began to get a little confused and concerned.

At least she took the mouse away.

After her little screaming session, she took the mouse back, got a refund, and decided to confront the… everything.

Thus, she picked up the snake, plopped down its unresisting mass onto her desk, where it stared at her determined face, tilting its head in curiosity.

No matter how hard she tried, she could not ignore this, not anymore.

So she took a deep breath, and touched the snake’s tail tip with her finger.

The tip curled around her finger in reaction, and the action made her feel weirdly enough like she was holding hands with it, bringing a tiny twitch into her lips that vanished as she remembered her suspicions.

God, she felt sick just thinking about it. What if she had been cuddling with some middle aged pedophile woman with powers or something for the past two days? She’d never go outside ever again.

Please be wrong please be wrong please be wrong please-

Swallowing, she took a deep breath.

“First of all, my power lets me know when you’re lying. So don’t lie.” She half-lied. Because she had no fucking idea how snakes could lie or what that looked like. She had practiced on people damn it! Yes, all biology was similar, so it wasn’t like it was impossible for her, but this was a bit unfamiliar to her.

The snake just stared, lightly squeezing her finger. 

She was kind of panicking now. She wasn’t sure why.

“If- if you understand me, what I’m saying, uh, I- k-knock something over.” She finished, lamely, somewhere between panic and feeling silly. Because really, she might just be overreacting. It could all be a strange series of events that means nothing and-

Then she watched in growing horror , as the not-snake, very slowly and deliberately, let go of her finger, then tipped over an empty plastic cup on her desk, staring her right in the eye the entire time.

She leapt back, pointing a finger at it, breathing fast and hard as the cup clattered and rolled on the desk.

“NO. No! YOU DID NOT JUST UNDERSTAND-! YOU-!” She sputtered, wide eyed.

The snake somehow managed to look fucking smug.

Like ‘ damn straight I’m smart, suck it’ kind of smug.

She made a strangled noise in her throat, then sat back down and grabbed its tail.

“Are you a Changer?” She blurted out, wary, ready to end its heartbeat the moment it did something a little too fast.

Please, please, please-

The empty look she got was… what the snake always looked like, but a little more.

“Shake your head in a yes or no, damnit.” She growled, glaring at it. Him? Her? Fuck!

They- it just tilted its head in obvious confusion.

Then it occurred to her that it might not know PRT classifications because why the fuck would it?

“Changers are… capes, parahumans! Can you shapeshift back and forth into human form and this? This snake form?” She asked, straight up, as focused as the question could get and with no room for them to act confused. “Uh, move your head up and down for yes, side to side for no.” She added, with the vain, tiny chance that this was somehow possible and still an animal of some kind.

To her considerable shock, it moved its head side to side in a clumsy, swaying movement, and Amy didn’t detect a lie. Not even the slightest hint of one.

"Uh... lie to me. Is the sky blue?" She asked, and after a moment of confusion, the snake slowly shook its head in a negative.

Okay, that was a lie, and Amy could tell. So... her power would work here.

Then again, its biology was impossible. This kind of intelligence could not happen with a brain the size of a literal pea, like this. It wasn’t how biology worked. Impossible. What did that mean though?

It meant powers were involved somehow, but… if it’s an actual snake, and not a Changer, how would…

A dawning realization chilled her bones as she stared at her snake, her actual, real snake, with a faint shudder.

Someone created it. Her. Whatever.

The realization left her chest tight yet light with a mixture of relief and all-consuming dread.

It all made sense, all of a sudden. A million little puzzle pieces slide together to form a picture that is both relieving yet grim, not for the snake, but for Amy.

The story isn’t hard to follow, with that hint.

Somewhere out there, there was a biotinker. They took an animal, gave it intelligence, messed around with its melanin genes to make it look darker, then because the damn thing was too intelligent and a literally perfect escape artist, it escapes, and ends up in the streets of Brockton Bay.

From there, the sequence of events is obvious. Painfully so.

It’s lost, afraid, and then all of a sudden, this smart little bastard smells or detects something familiar. A biotinker’s lab shared a lot with a hospital room. It might have smelled the antiseptic, maybe it was the screaming and the blood, maybe it was the clicking of surgical tools. Whatever it was, it decided to scale up eight goddamn stories to find a single open window, just to get to it, and maybe find some kind of safety. Maybe it half-expected to find its master.

God, it even explained how inordinately terrified the snake was when she first grabbed it, compared to just a minute later when it realized she meant it no harm. Whoever its creator was had probably made it extremely tame on purpose, which also explained why it hadn’t even once tried to bite her no matter how afraid it was. Or how numerous its teeth were.

The Creature was lost and afraid in a vast world, sought some measure of safety, and stumbled onto Amy. Because of course.

Where its grubby little gremlin personality came from, she wasn’t sure and didn’t care.

It made sense now. She got it. Her pet was, despite it all, an animal. Just one so goddamn intelligent it was practically a... a crow, or a parrot.

Or a human child, maybe?

Fuck.

Then she realized something.

She couldn’t even report this. If she just came up to the PRT with a coincidentally intelligent snake, not only would the heartless government ghouls immediately dissect her Creature, they’d probably assume she did it by mistake while trying to figure out how to affect brains or something, and that she was experimenting to Master people to become Nilbog and Heartbreaker’s inbred child, and then Carol would agree and Amy would commit suicide via six gunshots to the back of the head, as far as the coroner was concerned.

Shit. She was stuck with this thing. Forever.

She collapsed onto her desk, head in her hands, breathing hard and fast.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” She hissed.

Something touched her cheek, and she flinched, meeting wide, calm green eyes, barely an inch from her eye.

She should probably be more wary of the fucking lab rat biotinker Creature on her desk, but as it tilted its head and decided to push its head up against her cheek in a clumsy, cat-like nuzzle, she couldn’t help but think that…

Maybe being stuck with it wasn’t that bad.

It was a lot more permanent than she expected this to be, and it was a lot more dangerous now to have this thing outside of anything but a blackbox, but… it’s not like she could contain it.

Then she paused, because… it had stopped trying to escape, now that she thought about it. Hell, it went an entire school day doing god knows what, and then it just… returned to her.

It could also understand her. To some extent. She wasn’t too sure on the level of intelligence, but it could understand words.

It was strange, because intelligence was such an inherently human thing that she couldn’t help but humanize the thing, even as she sighed and scratched its neck with a fingernail, accepting its affection.

“This only makes you more evil, you know? You’re smart enough to know you’re being a little shit.” She noted, side-eyeing the Creature as it rubbed its squishy, muscled cheek against hers.

The Creature paused to smugly flick its tongue at her, tickling her eyelashes with it, before wiggling its tail tip on the desk.

Was the tail wiggle… a sign of amusement?

“Fucking rascal.” She grumbled as she gathered it up, letting it slowly arrange and shift its coils along her body until it was wrapped around her neck and shoulders in a loose embrace.

“You better not run away for real, because the first fed to get his hands on you will put your organs in a glass jar, I’d bet my life on it.” She warned, turning around to finally start her homework for the day.

A hissy huff was her reply, whatever that meant.

Amy was Fucking Bored.

“Wanna play a board game or some shit?” She asked the ceiling, splayed out on the floor.

A goofy looking worm made of scales rose in her peripheral vision, before it clumsily bobbed its head up, then down.

Amy watched the Jenga tower with a twitching eyebrow as The Creature once again used its incredibly prehensile and controlled tail tip to wiggle another block out of what looked like a tower of wooden blocks so full of holes it could be swiss cheese.

“You little fucking cheater…” She hissed.

With a flick of its tail, one of the jenga blocks bonked Amy on the head, and as she flinched away from the harmless hit, she could practically hear the ‘ sore loser’ implied as the snake wiggled its tail.

She spritzed the snake with water in retaliation, taking great joy in the annoyed way it recoiled.

Finally, she had found its weakness.

The Creature didn’t like water on its head, for some reason.

Amy finally had countermeasures.

Then a pillow was thrown at her face, her surprised squawk muffled by the feathers in her mouth as she bit through the flimsy cloth by accident.

That was how Victoria found her in the bathroom, spitting feathers out into the sink and washing her mouth out with one hand while she forced the Creature’s coils under the cold sink water as a punishment with her other, silently wrestling the grumbly demon as it squirmed its backside away from the water and tried to rip their faucet out with its struggles, refusing to let go.

Before she could explain anything to Vicky, her traitorous sister shook her head with baffled exasperation, and retreated.

“Ames! It’s your turn to do chores today!” Victoria hollered from down the hall.

Amy wanted to snap something back, but contained herself to an annoyed grumble as she got up, moving to grab the Creature from where it was nosing through Amy’s books.

Some part of her was banging its head against a wall at the absurdity of how the hell did a snake learn to read?!, but she was too numb to absurd bullshit to care anymore.

Aside from a slight hiss, it didn’t fight her.

That was until she pushed a duster into its curled up tail, and smirked at the uncomprehending stare it gave her.

“I’m gonna do the dishes, you dust the shelves.”

Naturally, it tried to flee.

She leapt after it, used to this song and dance by now.

“No you don’t, you sneaky little freeloader! Now that I know you’re smart, you’re paying rent!” She roared, valiantly struggling to untangle her arms from where the Creature had tied her into handcuffs. 

Turns out, they should not do chores. They should not be allowed near chores.

In the end, the Creature won. Amy couldn’t exactly do much if it just decided not to pick up the duster. Or if it used itself as handcuffs to pin Amy’s arms to each other.

It did both.

Still, it did do some minor stuff, after she gave up with a huff.

It shoved chairs back where they should be, picked up random bits and pieces with its tail and dumped them into the trash, and smugly watched her struggle from a shelf like the little bastard it was.

Mark eventually wandered in, and stared at the snake for a very, very long time.

“Is that… real?” He asked, pointing a finger at her snake.

“Uhm… no?” She said, for some fucking reason, probably because she was not wanting to explain why and how she had a pet snake all of a sudden. He probably didn’t care anyway. 

To the Creature’s credit, the snake pulled off a good impression of decoration, even striking up a regal pose on its shelf as Mark glanced at Amy, then back to it.

He rubbed at his eyes, squinted at it, then shook his head.

“I… Okay? Don’t let me keep ya.” He mumbled, and walked off.

Amy nodded, and kept at it.

The Creature stared at the long sock like it was going to eat it.

“Just put your ass in here and wiggle around to wipe the floor, it cannot be that difficult!” She snapped.

The Creature hissed, grumpy, but slowly slithered into the sock head first. A minute later, a head crawled out.

Amy put a rubber band on the top of the sock, which was somewhere around the middle length of her snake, and pumped her fist.

Then it slithered around, and it worked. A tiny bit. Kind of. If you squinted.

...It was actually very unhelpful.

“God, my genius is… almost frightening, sometimes.” She declared, chest puffed out.

A ball of paper bounced off her forehead, and she flicked a glare at her sassy little bastard.

Their vacuum cleaner was incredibly strong.

This was usually not a problem.

It became a problem that day, because the Creature decided to knock one of the couch pillows onto the floor in the middle of trying to puff it out, and her vacuum cleaner snatched it up before she could register it.

Then the couch cushion exploded, covering the living room with white, soft fuzz.  

The living room they’d just cleaned.

She and the Creature both slowly turned to glare at each other. Not that the snake could glare, but she could feel that its gaze was a glare. She just knew it.

In a huff, the snake decided to do the upper floor while Amy stared in despair at the mess downstairs.

Amy eventually went to check up on it, having given up on the lower floor.

And then slipped on the very wet floor.

And then crashed through their incredibly cheap bathroom door, because Vicky kept breaking them and it got expensive to buy good ones.

As she lay there in the cardboard rubble of the door, head propped up on the edge of the toilet, the sound of creaking wheels approached.

Her snake rolled into the entranceway, perched like a judgemental cat on Victoria’s old skateboard, its tail wrapped around a plunger that it stuck to the floor to stop.

They stared at each other for a moment, before the snake pushed onwards and twisted the plunger off, leaving her, eyes not moving an inch from her own until the wall cut their staring contest off.

Creak, creak, the wheels went, rolling away.

Amy stared at the ceiling with dead eyes.

Amy still stared at the ceiling with dead eyes, but now she was on the living room floor. A slight upgrade.

There was fluff everywhere.

The Creature had somehow managed to squeeze one of the… floor soap bottles, whatever they were called, so hard that it had exploded in the corner, leaving a foamy grenade mess in the middle of the hallway and half inside the kitchen.

If the splatter wasn’t so destructive, she would have been impressed.

There were still bubbles on everything. Including the snake. And her. And the air, floating through the sunlight. That was kinda pretty, at least.

There were still bits of broken cardboard on her. Now soggy.

The broken door remained upstairs. She’d given up.

The house was infinitely worse than before.

She blindly grabbed for another cold pizza slice, bringing it to her mouth, sprawled out on the floor, tempted to attempt to make a bubble angel on the floor before madness consumed her.

As she lay on the floor, her snake eyed the window just beside her with a faintly speculative air, probably considering running away again.

Same, buddy.

At least the snake stuck by her side as they waited for doom.

As if summoned, the door clicked open.

In the last moments where Amy mentally prepared to die, she wondered what her final words would be, for only a moment, before they came to her in a flash of divine wisdom.

“Nailed it.”

Chapter Text

After wrecking the house, she was on paper-thin ice and super-duper grounded, even if Carol still hadn’t found a way to punish her, so she grumbled and growled and scowled and glared at the table during dinner, but endured the dread with some manner of grace.

Vicky dragged her to the living room before she could escape to her bed, now sparkling clean after she spent another two whole goddamn hours cleaning it, and put on a movie as Amy suppressed her irritation at being denied a miserable moping session in her blissfully silent room.

Half an hour into the shitty action flick, Vicky started needling her about the double date and Amy briefly fantasized about jamming one of Mark’s grenades into her own mouth and imagining her head popping like a ripe tomato.

Ahh, the bliss of oblivion… sleep, but infinite.

Her thousand yard stare probably clued Vicky in to how interesting Amy found the idea of another double date, prompting her dastardly, beautiful, annoyingly distracting sister to become a war criminal, in Amy’s opinion.

How? Simple. Psychological warfare was against the Geneva Convention. And Vicky pouting and pretty much giving her puppy dog eyes was psychological warfare, fuck you, UN.

Thus, war criminal. Your honor, send her to Gary. A fate worse than death.

Vicky had a lot of good points. She recited most of them.

Amy had a lot of great comebacks. She only thought of them, keeping her frustrated silence.

“C’mooooon, Amyyyyyyy!” Victoria whined, again, tugging at her sleeve, purposefully being annoying.

Amy was not blushing at the whiny, needy sound, shut up shut up shut up-

The image of her snake’s stupid, judgemental, flat stare popped into her mind like a haunting geist refusing to exit her skull, and she scowled harder.

“You need to meet more people!”

Why?

“He’s your type… you know, wiry, twink kinda pretty guy, tall-”

That’s literally all a lie. I only said that’s my type because that one androgynous dude you brought last time confused my brain enough while flirting to fluster me and you noticed, somehow. And I don’t even care if someone is tall I just want them to loom over me like you do with your stupid flight.

“And while he can be pretty serious, he’s got a playful side!”

… Cool, I guess? Still a dude. And not you.  

She silently sighed through her nostrils, staring at the screen ahead, stubbornly saying nothing.

Unfortunately, she knew better than to assume Vicky would give up. She’d only do that for a month, then decide her sister was too mopey and needed someone to cheer her up, and then she’d go on the quest to saddle Amy off to someone else.

… Could Vicky really not see how this all felt like she was trying to get rid of Amy?

Like, it made sense. Vicky wanted to spend less time with her, and more time with fucking Dean. Or literally anyone that was more fun than her, like any one of her literally dozen close friends. Each and every one of them ten times more fun to be around and more interesting and adventurous.

Alone time with her sister was practically impossible these days. Ever since a year and a half ago. Since she met Dean, really.

Even when Amy wanted to just hang out with her, Vicky would come up with some excuse why Amy should come with her to her friend’s or the Wards’ table. Or why it had to be a group outing at the mall. Or why it had to be a double date. Or why yes, they could go get ice cream, but they’d stop by a friend’s house for an hour. Which turned into three hours. And then the ice cream store was closed.

Or why Vicky would constantly arrange to go to events she knew damn well Amy would hate going to whenever there was free time for them to do something together, and try her damndest to needle her into coming, knowing it won’t work. Maybe on some subconscious level, it was even intentional. Vicky could get her fun time with actual fun people, and not be mean to her sister in any intentioned way by genuinely trying to get Amy to come with.

And even… even now, she was about to enjoy a movie with her sister, but Vicky had to try to shove her off again. Or try to get there.

Vicky was practically, albeit unintentionally, hopefully, poking her with a pointy stick telling her “ hey get your own social circle already and stop bothering me to do things with just us”.

And okay, fine, Vicky was social.

But was Amy really so shit that Vicky couldn’t stand to hang out with her for a couple hours, just once a week, maybe? If that? 

This wasn't even about her stupid crush, she missed her goddamn sister.

It just… felt like Vicky was socially aware enough to not exclude Amy and hurt her, but not enjoying Amy’s company enough to ever make room for her only, just dragging her around like some leaden weight while she went on to live her life and fill her time with all her friends and fucking Dean , shoving Amy into it all like an afterthought she couldn’t get rid of.

Dean got alone time with Vicky.

Amy didn’t, not anymore.

Or so it felt. Amy was well aware she could be entirely wrong.

Self-hatred was a bitch and maybe she was just being overly self-centered. Vicky might not even think about these things and just be trying to make room and time for all the people in her social circle. Even more likely than Amy’s harebrained bullshit, yes.

Even so, still, it just felt that way. And Amy couldn’t choose what to feel, unfortunately.

“Even if you don't click, maybe you can figure something out about what kind of guy you're really into. And, free lunch!”

Vicky was still needling her.

Maybe it was just… everything of today. She felt emotionally exhausted beyond belief. She learned her snake was a biotinkered pet of some unknown cape, then the house got trashed by a series of unfortunate bullshit, then Carol came home, and she couldn’t even blame the snake because that heartless bitch would probably throw it into the street if she put enough blame on it…

It was all a bit much, and this little problem with Vicky that has been needling her for a year and change…

Her eyes watered, just a little, and in an emotional moment she just knew she would regret, she replied, with a voice that was both bitter and way too snappy.

“Fuck, fine, I’ll go!”

Then she got up before Vicky could recover from her apparent surprise at her heated tone, still blinking at her with wide baby blues, and stormed upstairs.

At least there was one damn creature in this world that wanted her goddamn company.

That’s unfair and you know it. You’re just an insecure, jealous bitch. Go apologize to Vicky later.

…Yeah. She would.

Not now though. She was still hurt and pissed.

Taylor heard the door open, glanced up to confirm it was Amy, then went back to reading.

A moment later, she was roughly yanked off the desk, and despite her annoyed hiss, the healer just scooped up her flailing tail, gathered her up in her arms, and flopped into bed.

Goddamn it, what now!? She was just getting to the good part!

With a huffy hiss, she squirmed and twisted around in Amy’s grip.

She didn’t exactly mind the warmth, but Amy was weirdly uncaring about randomly hugging and cuddling another person. 

Like, nothing changed between them since she basically came clean. What the hell. She had expected a lot more awkward distance after Amy learned she was a human.

Maybe because she was still stuck as a snake, it hadn’t sunken in yet?

Whatever. Taylor didn’t care much either. It was warm and soft and nice and it felt so good to touch and be touched by another person and she was definitely not touch starved shut up.

A sniffle made her pause in her escape attempt, then more gently squeeze through Amy’s arms as she clumsily yanked the blanket up.

Raising her head a bit once able to, she stared down at Amy. A silently crying Amy with dead eyes that bore into hers.

She felt a vague sense of panic.

There had been a bit of a… rough scolding from Carol, the bitch , but that was hours ago. So it was something recent.

Her stomach dropped.

Fuck, did she make her cry, somehow!? She never meant to do that!

What was it? She hadn’t even done anything mischievous today, she was on her best behaviour because Amy just learned that she was an actual person and she wanted to give it a couple days for it to sink in before she started having her fun again.

Yes, they still ruined the entire house, but it wasn’t on purpose! Amy did it just as much as she did!

“Hey. Do- do you like me?” Amy whispered, voice soft and curious.

She stared, quietly baffled.

The hell did that come from?

…Did she?

Amy was… grumbly, and hissy, and straight up rude and insensitive and bitter… but she was also responsible. Relatively sensible. She was way funnier than she gave herself credit for. She was a hard worker, she was resilient. She was absurdly patient and very good at self-control. She sacrificed a lot of her time to help people when she technically didn’t really have to.

And none of that actually mattered, because that wasn’t what Amy asked.

Did she like Amy, the person, however little she knew her?

She stared at the healer, and her main worry was about how to make her feel better. To make her do that funny little glare where she thought she looked furious but just kind of looked like a grumpy cat who didn’t want to admit that she was at the very least, mildly bemused. She didn’t really think about going anywhere else, or hanging out with anyone else, and if she had even more free time and friends, she’d probably still try and spend it with Amy first.

The girl just matched her newfound careless energy so well. She couldn’t even explain it. 

Besides, it wasn’t like anyone else wanted Taylor around. Even her human self. Amy was probably the only person who fought to keep her close even when she pulled away, even when she was an active menace to society, even if she mostly did it because Amy thought she was a dumb snake and would die outside.

Amy knew better now, and she still held her close. Almost uncomfortably close, but whatever.

…Yeah, this wasn’t the hardest question, honestly.

She nodded, quick and sharp, flicking her tongue in a slow, lazy arc.

A tiny twitch raised the corner of Amy’s lip.

Taylor shuddered as a finger gently rubbed up and down her long, long throat.

That felt weird. Good weird. But weird.

She squirmed away, then headbutted her hand, unsure of how to comfort her.

That seemed to be enough, as Amy started scritching the top of her head and ooooh that felt nice.

“You’re alright too, I guess.” Amy mumbled. “For some kind of lab rat.”

She nodded along to whatever it was Amy was saying, mostly focusing on the scratches under her chin that just felt so nice what the hell!

Then the words registered, a couple seconds later, and she paused, turning to side-eye Amy.

She was mildly distracted by the slightly fond, slightly happy half-lidded look in her probably-friend’s teary eyes, glittering like little stars from all the reflections of her desk lamp on the other end of the room, the tiny, sincere little smile on her face that was weirdly… cute, almost, from above.

Her pale skin only contrasted the speckling of freckles that dominated her face. Strands of messy auburn-brown hair played across her face like little runs of paint on a drawing, somehow only adding to its imperfect charm.

…Huh. Apparently she found freckles cute.

Now she just had to find a boy with freckles who liked snakes. And figure out how to turn back.

... She should probably stop staring at Amy so intensely.

No, hold on, she had to focus.

…Lab rat? Something about a lab rat? Was that a joke or…?

Amy started massaging the balls of jaw muscle on either side of her head, and wow. She hadn’t realized how tense those muscles were.

She should probably… ask what that was… about… and… and uhm…

Amy did something where she hooked her nails and raked them down her almost flat, rippling back, and her thoughts fled as her pupils dilated with a squirm of pleasure, her head emptying to focus on the bliss as she arched her back into the touch.

The healer was definitely cheating with her power somehow, there was no way this was supposed to feel so nice exactly where she wanted it.

“Hell no. Let go.” She deadpanned.

The insolent Creature, vile and wretched, stared at her without an ounce of care, flicking its tongue.

She scowled.

“Why the fuck do you want to go with me to the hospital? Are you stupid?”

The sharp end of a tail dug into her elbow, and she squirmed, hissing in pain as she tried to wring her arms free of the Creature-handcuffs.

“I am not taking you to the hospital! Knowing you, you will somehow find a way to burn the whole fuckin’ place down.” She insisted, glaring at the icon of mischief and evil revelry in her arms.

… She had to stop reading those shitty ass fantasy books, they were infecting her vocabulary.

The snake pointed its tail tip at its own face, then leaned back and tilted its head as if to say ‘ who, me? No, I’d never!’.

“Yeah right, you shitty little goblin.” She grumbled, and tried to slip her cuffs again, the snake’s coils tightening to the point of it hurting a little, before she relaxed, and gave up.

Fine.

She went to use her power-

And paused.

… The snake was intelligent. Enough to at least be at the level of a young child or more.

So… by pure logic… it would be unethical to just use her power on it, right?

Shit. Goddamn it.

“I… if I bring you, you have to promise me you will not make a complete mess of things.”

The Creature nodded glibly, without hesitation.

Fuck.

“Goddamn it, fine.”

Taylor lied as naturally as she breathed.

The kids in the pediatric ward… surprisingly enough, liked the snake.

She had expected a lot more shrieking, and there was some of that.

Then the Creature started doing some kind of interpretive wriggle dance on one of the tables, and the kids suddenly loved it, bopping along to some unheard beat and giggling like the demonic little shits they were.

Even the older ones, around her own age, seemed incredulous and curious in equal measure.

There was a sizable crowd that was practically glued to the walls in a mixture of shock, disgust, and fear, but it was… bizarrely small. She thought more people hated snakes. Huh.

…Amy fucking hated children. They were mean as fuck and you couldn’t even be mad at them because they were too goddamn stupid to realize they were being awful little shits.

Amy mostly tried not to panic as she thought about whispers of a dancing snake getting out and about, rushing through healing people to the best of her ability to get going faster.

Some toddler tried to grab the Creature, prompting it to dodge and…

And uhm.

What was she looking for, again?

Blinking, she focused back on healing.

Then, about ten seconds later, she remembered to ask where the hell her snake was, and she turned to find the rolling table her snake occupied…

Only to find it gone. Some random nurse had grabbed the table and rushed out the door just moments ago without checking the lower compartment where her useless ass reptile was sitting to hide from the toddler.

“... I’m so done with this shit.” She breathed out, deadpan.

She knew it. Even when it wasn’t its fault, the Creature attracted nothing but chaos.

For once, instead of chasing it… she just kept working.

The thing found her in a school, how hard would it be to find its way back to her in a hospital?

Worst case scenario, she would follow the screaming.

In one of the storage rooms below, a nurse opened a drawer and blinked.

Where the hell did all the vitamins go?

A doctor in the pediatric wing went to grab his stethoscope, only to find it gone.

Confused, he turned around for his little reflex hammer, a tiny thing only meant to be used on knees to check reflex functions.

It was gone too.

Confused, he put the meeting on hold to grab new ones.

A patient in the ER, still woozy from anesthesia, watched a snake crawl across his windowsill, holding a rattling pillow case in the tip of its tail, dangling off to the side like a sack of spoils.

This was one trippy ass nightmare.

It saw him watching and paused, before turning, putting the bag on the edge of his bed, before fishing out a… little bottle of pills?

Oh shit.

“R’those… phainhillers?” He slurred.

He could use some of that.

The snake seemed to pause, then nod enthusiastically.

Taylor lied as naturally as she breathed.

“Gimme some. You wan’ a… smoke?” He wheezed, reaching to his nightstand for his wallet, and fishing out a pack of Lucky Strikes, red.

The snake nodded, tossing the pill tab onto his chest.

He weakly tossed the cigarette case, and the snake caught it with its tail, before curiously prodding it open and fishing out a cigarette to sniff it, quick tongue flicks moving as it reeled back.

“Wan’ a light?” He asked, guessing the problem.

The snake stared, completely still, before nodding and extending its tail towards him, a single cigarette held on the end.

With a bit of groaning and shuffling, he fished the lighter out of his fanny pack on the nightstand, and with a shaking hand, he lit it.

The snake slowly opened its seemingly toothless mouth, before putting the butt of the cigarette into the side of its snout, the stick half-hanging off the side, slowly smoking.

They stared at each other as the cigarette bobbed up and down with the shifts of its jaws, but never flared.

Apparently, it couldn’t smoke.

Damn shame.

“Can’t puff a fat cloud, huh? Unlucky. Still, tight as fuck, dawg.” He croaked. “Smoking snake. Straight gas, my G. Need to get you a hat. Or a crown.”

He extended a hand for a fist bump.

A tail tapped his fist, then the snake crawled off into the vents, carrying its bounty with it.

The bag caught on the lip.

Faint hissing and clanging sounds echoed down the vent as the bag jerked and pulled.

Panels and vent grates clattered to the floor as if in the middle of an earthquake as the snake finally squeezed the bag into the vent.

Hell yeah. Vandalism.

He took a couple of the painkillers, then stared at the ceiling, a sense of unreality surrounding him. 

“Tight shit.” He slurred at the pink ball floating over the side of his bed, the words ‘best wishes’ stuck onto it.

The doctors kept shooting him odd looks whenever he asked around about that sick ass worm ripping back some fat darts. Or- failing at them?

Meh, whatever.

A minute later, the fire alarm started blaring.

The snake tumbled out of the vent in a panic to bounce on the empty bed to his side, before hurriedly jamming the end of the cigarette against the wall with its tail, head whipping back and forth for witnesses.

He numbly stared at it.

“‘Sup brah. Cn’you turn thah oph?” He mumbled, then closed his eyes for a nap.

The snake did indeed turn it off mere seconds later. Somehow.

Sick.

On the third floor, a shell-shocked, limping man walked into the crowded hallway of waiting people, taking back his spot.

Someone asked him what was wrong. He looked pale.

He blinked at them, before raising a hand with a couple pills in it.

“I just traded cigarettes for painkillers in the bathroom.” He mumbled, still appearing lost.

A grumpy old man raised a brow at him.

“No shit? Which one? With who?” He rasped, getting up from his seat with a grimace and a groan.

“Uh. Staff bathroom. It’s unlocked. It… I traded painkillers for cigarettes with a snake in the bathroom. It was smoking a blunt.” The man repeated, seemingly to himself, still blinking in bafflement.

A goth girl with her hand in cast gave him a bored look.

“Dude, how fucking high are you ?” She questioned.

He didn’t reply, blinking at the pills in his hand.

The old man simply walked past him to said bathroom.

A minute later, the door slammed open, the old man’s eyes wide and fervent.

“Holy shit, you will not believe this. ” The old man rasped, raising an entire bottle of painkillers.

A nurse opened a drawer in the storage department.

She stared in incomprehension at the black reptile in the drawer where the IV bags were supposed to be, curled tight like a possessive dragon over a giant pile of cigarettes, dollar bills, and various coupons. A stethoscope sat on its head like a crown, while a pointed knee reflex hammer stood upright, the tip of its tail resting on the top end like it was holding onto a cane.

An unlit, slightly ragged cigarette hung limp from the side of its snout, bobbing up with the shifts of its jaws.

The nurse blinked, once twice, eyes wide and baffled.

The snake raised its snout imperiously into the air like a displeased monarch, tapping the butt of the hammer on the drawer.

Then what she was looking at finally registered as reality and she shrieked, slamming the drawer shut as she turned and rushed out of the room.

Five minutes of babbling at a security guard later, they opened the drawer to find… nothing. Just a single cigarette and a quarter.

(NOT NECESSARILY CANON OMAKE START )


Dr. Hastings stood with his team in a side room, furiously pondering over the possible diagnoses of a problematic patient.

A coffee cup sat in his free hand. Another coffee cup sat in his other free hand. A cigarette hung out of his right nostril as he furiously mumbled through the cut straw of an IV bag, chewing on it, scrunching his face to smoke out of the nostril while inhaling his coffee.

Tossing a cup into the bin, he scowled as it bounced off the top, filled to the brim.

Stupid interns. Can’t even empty out his coffee bin.

His crocs squealed against the cheap linoleum flooring, ranting under his breath about the goddamn time vortexes that sat inside his computer in the breakroom.

Nobody believed him! The dates didn’t just change like that! It was time travel!

How did time travel change diseases? This had to be the problem…

He walked in tight circles, furiously pacing, his coat wearing its marks of pride, stains of mysterious origin which tried to grab his attention like unruly children. He ignored them.

His enslaved subjects- unpaid interns, he corrected, all stared at him with mixtures of baffled awe and admiration and concern, no doubt concerned he would usurp the place of the hospital director at the rate of his expanding genius.

In the corner of his vision, a chair danced a jig, its legs tap-tap-tap dancing, somehow emitting a cheery tune not unlike the jingle of an ice cream truck.

“Get that chair under control! This is serious business!” He barked, through the straw. The actual noise that came out probably sounded somewhat accurate, because the interns all glanced between the chair and him.

A list stood on the whiteboard, eyes jerking furiously between the options.

“What about the lack of white blood cells? Could be Lupus-” A thin femoidal-type slave suggested.

“IT’S NEVER LUPUS!” He barked, furious. They never learned!

Shit. The straw was gone.

He turned back to the board, opening a bottle of the pills in his pocket and randomly throwing a few into his mouth.

He was only awake for sixty seven hours. This was nothing. He would find it!

A long black tail holding a single pen at the end of it somehow, extended out of the cabinet to the left, and seemingly tapped at the board at random.

Trying to write something?

No, it was obviously a hidden signal. It was trying to write next to one of the options. That was probably the option it wanted to signal.

His interns startled, reeling in fear of the unknown. Cowards! Idiots all!

He instead studied the board, and gasped. Of course…

“Of course. Of course!” He howled, surging forward to throw the drawer open, grabbing the startled snake and raising it to his eye level. “YOU! Wriggly intern! How did you know?! Who trained you?!” He demanded, shaking it like a maraca.

The snake flicked its tongue, with a hurried air, reeling back.

Hurried. Why hurried?

Was there something to-

Shit, surgery. Were they late?! Idiots!

Of course it was Lupus! This intern must have caught his bluff!

“You’re late for surgery! Goddamn interns! Get your scrubs on, new girl!” He barked, and tossed his new intern into the arms of one of his male s- interns, who gave a girly shriek, but caught her.

He stormed out of the room, mind whirling.

Taylor ended up in scrubs, sitting on a rolling stool, watching an actual surgery. From the side, at least. She thankfully couldn’t see much.

Said scrub was a towel haphazardly wrapped around her throat, by one of the braver… nurses? She didn’t know hospital jobs.

She stared numbly at the doctor and his bizarrely steady hands as he ranted and raved about the french spies in the gutters while sawing into a person.

She…

How the hell did she even get here? She was just trying to prank them by writing ‘get noodled’ on the board and forgot to turn her power on.

“SCALPEL, SMALL BLACK ONE!” The doctor shrieked, and she jerked, extending a tail to grab and give him the scalpel. He grabbed it, and dove back to the table.

The other doctors were too busy staring at her in baffled disbelief.

… She could just leave.

But…

She was oddly invested in the madness, at this point.

Dr. Hastings watched his newest intern like a one-eyed hawk, intense and twitching.

Why one-eyed, one might ask?

His other eye was just twitching too violently to be useful right now, it worked fine though.

He had no more surgeries today. Just caffeine nerves.

He adjusted the coffee IV in his right arm under his coat, twitching a nod to himself as he evaluated the intern’s performance.

The scaled slave consistently picked up the right clipboard.

It also pressed elevator buttons correctly.

Then while signing a prescription to himself for more opiates, it solved a candy-jar riddle he left out for the not-yet-grown future unpaid interns that sometimes came to his office.

The conclusion…

“YOU PASS THE TURING TEST, INTERN!” He barked in righteous excited fervor, sending the whole elevator to startle and inch away from him, no doubt in awe of his new slave’s ability to do what none of them could do.

He was excited. He was burning!

The snake intern looked at him, and nodded.

Then it clicked the right button on the elevator, again.

GODS ABOVE!

“You are by far my most promising intern! All you idiots! Learn from its example and in a thousand years you might be picked for this damn hospital!” He declared, whirling around at his team who were all huddled up against the wall, staring at the intern in fear, his sudden turn flicking the cigarette in his nose to the side, gone.

That’s right! Fear it! It will take your jobs, and it doesn’t even have hands! Morons, all of them!

The snake snuck a cigarette out of his pocket and put it into his nose.

“Scaled one! You’re promoted to doctor!” He decided, and marched out of the elevator as it opened.

A second later, he turned back and walked back to the elevator. Wrong floor.

“Slim one! As my most promising intern, I will allow you to witness my revolutionary personal projects!” The doctor boomed, fire in his eyes as he turned down the stairs, tripped, and tumbled down a flight of stairs while she slithered after him.

Taylor bemusedly followed as he stood back up like nothing happened, and marched down into the basement.

As he hurriedly turned on the power to the abandoned basement side rooms by jamming a screwdriver into the wall and ignoring the sparks that spit out of the wires, the lights turned on, and he explained his inventions.

First, was a prototype coffee IV system. He was testing it right now on himself.

She was thoroughly impressed. A true inventor.

The second was a repurposed vending machine he was tinkering with to turn into a snack cannon that could be used to shoot food straight into people’s mouth, saving up many countless man-hours and useless chewing. She didn't question how many broken teeth that would cause, nodding along.

Then he insisted on tying band-aids to rubber bands pulled by a little whirring motor to show his patented study of ‘quantum tunneling band-aids’ that would allow him to throw band-aids at people with three hundred and six percent efficiency of time.

To his credit, they did stick to the band-aid wall.

Then, while she was poking around, she accidentally triggered a prototype and got shot across the hallway riding a hospital bed tray like a surfboard, straight out the door, and into an occupied hallway where several nurses stared at the tray that slowly ground to a stop.

Taylor panted, adrenaline fading as her heart slowed.

That was…

So fucking fun!

She grabbed the tray with her tail and raced back to the machine, turning her power on to make people ignore her.

The hospital was haunted.

Goddamn ghosts!

Dr. Hastings always knew it, in his infinite genius, but now, the spirits were angry! They kept firing off his machines, flipping over beakers, tripping him! The lights flickered more than usual, too!

It had to stop. He refused to provide free healthcare to spirits! Goddamn freeloaders would steal his ideas!

So, he made a jagged pentagram on the floor for communion with an old crayon he forgot to eat, and beseeched the spirits for peace, throwing a metric fuckton of snacks from the vending machines into the circle, making vaguely latin-sounding noises that were probably completely correct.

One by one, the snacks vanished.

By the end of the next ten minutes, the ghosts haunting the hospital left him alone, and he considered it a successful peace treaty.

Now, back to work!

“Black one! There you are!” The odd doctor exclaimed, then snatched her off the table where she was watching one of the TV’s in the break room, eating gummy worms.

Idly listening, she was tasked to liberate actual good coffee from the administrative wing. 

Oh. Yeah, that’d be easy.

Thus, Taylor’s new job was being an invisible coffee courier. Like Robinhood, she liberated entire pots of high quality coffee and snuck it mostly to Dr. Hastings but occasionally the break rooms when he was too busy arguing with the malfunctioning TV screens to take it from her.

Hell, she even found Amy, at one point. Asleep.

Naturally, she brought her coffee.

Amy woke up from a nap to find herself covered in stolen coffee cups. Most of them still warm.

Which explained why she was so warm while napping. Coffee blanket.

She knew they were stolen because the coffee didn’t taste like burnt mud when she automatically grabbed one and took a sip.

Blearily blinking, she eyed her snake, in the middle of sneaking another cup onto the pile.

“Oh. So we’re criminals now.” She mumbled, half-asleep.

The Creature nodded, before pausing to fish something out of the giant bulging sack it dragged around, only to place a victory donut on her hood like a sticky crown, followed by a smug tongue flick. 

Amy sighed, and decided to enjoy the coffee before she got inevitably arrested.

Of course, the snake vanished again.

Little bastard, she thought, fondly, trying to muster up some actual anger and failing. Too tired. It was so damn late.

“It’s night shift, Slim Jim!” He declared, and the intern nodded.

“The idiots at admin would have me go home! Murderous lechers. It’s all that hand sanitizer they’re getting high off of, withholding it from hard working doctors like me ! We must build a giant secret research base! Right in this hospital! I will stop when I’m dead! Follow me! We need pillows and hospital gowns, stat!” He barked, marching through the halls, crocs squeaking all the while, intern hanging off his neck with sage wisdom.

He stopped by an admin office to hastily give her a name tag that he pinned onto the makeshift medical scrub she currently wore, which was a thick napkin. It simply read ‘Slim Jim’.

Turns out that the 'research base' was just a gigantic pillow fort in an unused corridor in the back.

The patients of the next wing kept sneaking in to play cards and trade more things with her, while in the corner, the deranged Doctor constructed… something.

Honestly, she’d rather not know.

Meanwhile, in the corner, Dr. Hastings finished setting up his makeshift coffee purifier, resisting an evil cackle that bubbled up his throat, reedy, patchy white hair wriggling across his scalp with excitement. Or there was a draft somewhere.

Regardless, no longer shall he need the Slim Jim for high quality coffee! All was in order now. He would make his own coffee distillery. The lab beakers probably didn’t even have that much mercury residue in them to matter.

Seventy hours without sleep.

When admin finally arrived, he, with great pleasure, handed them a clipboard that said, "You can't enter without clearance."

Suck it, bureaucrats!

Then he got tased in the ass by a security guard.


(NOT NECESSARILY CANON OMAKE END )

Amy reflected on The Creature’s visit to the hospital.

On one hand, the hospital was now falling apart.

Two fire alarms got rang and cancelled, there were rumours of a mass hallucinogenic agent causing people to think they were bartering with a black sock in the bathrooms, storage rooms were ransacked and in disarray, and administration was foaming at the mouth with rage about all the stolen coffee, which... Amy had drank a lot of. Her snake kept sneaking cups to her.

... That was actually pretty thoughtful and touching, now that she thought about it. She'd get The Creature a nice chicken leg for that.

Oh, and there were multiple doctors being tested for drug use after they all swore up and down that the resident madman of the hospital put a snake in scrubs and made it assist him during a surgery. She was pretty sure that one was just a rumour. One could never tell with The Creature.

On the other hand, morale had never been higher. The rumours of a gang of mafia snakes trading meds for cigarettes were growing wild enough to have people laughing, the kids had fun while the snake dancing lasted and there was now apparently a pillow fort in the back labs that had turned into a communal tent for people to play poker in and hotbox. She wasn't sure the snake had anything to do with that, honestly, but still.

Her snake even had... fans. The kids liked it.

That was… yeah. It was. Sure was.

God, she'd have to bring her again, wouldn't she?

She shuddered in horror.

A light rattle reminded her of the fact that her snake had somehow acquired a giant pillow case full of cigarettes and candy to gift her, for all the stress and trouble.

She grudgingly accepted it as she hailed a cab to go back home, snake still on her neck.

“...You’re gonna ruin my life one day, you useless reptile.” She grumbled under her breath, suppressing a smile.

… At least she had enough cigarettes to last her till the end of the year now.

Oh, and she owed Vicky an apology. Great.

Problem for tomorrow.

Chapter Text

Amy was halfway to her home in the cab, robes firmly planted deep within her backpack, Creature firmly wrapped around her neck and pretending gamely to be a scarf, when she remembered a little something called money.

Perhaps woken up by her pounding pulse against its ribs, The Creature stirred.

The next minute was a panicking session of her ripping open every pocket and seam and zipper she had to find her wallet.

The moment she accepted that yes, she was in fact, a complete fucking dumbass and forgot her wallet at home, it was oddly relieving. It wasn’t like there was an option two anymore. Whatever happened, happened.

At least she was pretty close to home.

With a sigh, she deflated, and leaned forward to tap the driver’s seat.

“Hey, uh. Sorry, genuinely, but I forgot my wallet at home. Do you think you could stop where I tell you and wait like, five minutes for me to come back with actual money?” She asked, feeling a bit bad for making his life harder.

It took three seconds for the car to slow to a stop, in the middle of the road, making all sorts of alarm bells ring in her head as the driver punched it into neutral, movements short and shappy with anger.

The Creature tensed around her throat, a flicking tongue tickling the side of her neck as it peeked out from under her mop of hair.

“Out.” He grunted. “You think I was born yesterday? You ain’t even the twentieth little shit to try this.” He croaked, not out of aggression, but because his voice had the rasp of a chain smoking alcoholic.

She flushed with anger, gritting her teeth.

The Creature used its tail to grab her shaking fist, and gently tugged it away from the back of the driver’s seat, where she had planted it.

She glanced to the side, meeting brilliant green-brown eyes, flat with warning and scolding her wordlessly, orange lines glittering off the scaled edges of its snout where the street lights flit through the crusty windows of the cab.

It pointedly glanced at the door, and did a funny little side-jerk of its head.

Just get out.

After another second of breathing hard in indignation, she grit her teeth, yanked the door open, and followed the admittedly sound advice, dragging her backpack and bag of hospital spoils with her, butt-checking the door shut behind her as she fumed and walked off to the sidewalk of whatever nameless fucking street she was on.

It was half an hour past her curfew. She just knew her phone would be screaming nonstop if not for her having yanked the battery out halfway into her shift.

She stood under the street light for a few moments, collecting herself, putting her backpack on, side-eyeing up and down the street.

Fucking great.

Fucking amazing!

Fucking asshole! Couldn't wait five minutes! Calling her a thief!

With a wordless shout, she turned and kicked a trash can, and found that it bolted onto the street, hissing in pain as she hobbled back a step on one foot.

Feeling movement around her neck, she looked down and watched her snake extend its tail, grab a can of soda lying around the base, crunch it into a ball, then hiss loudly and pitch it against the trashcan like a very ineffective rock.

She turned her head to the side, blinking at her snake, who was staring at her with a vaguely expectant, proud look, snout upturned.

Like a… puppy, expecting praise for a good job.

She blinked, slowly.

The snake stared back, almost puffing its chest out. Or… throat?

“Are you… trying to be supportive?” She asked, incredulous.

The snake gave a sharp nod.

She let out an undignified snort, covering her mouth as she devolved into piggish giggles, until she was leaning on a creaking, flickering steel lamp, letting out wheezing sounds one couldn’t quite call laughter.

After recovering from her laughing fit a bit, she took stock of where she was.

She recognized it.

Purgatory.

In less dramatic words, she was on the main street that led to the copy-pasted suburbia her family lived in, but not quite in said suburbia.

There were layers to the Bay, one realized, if they paid attention.

From the oil rig, and up from it, it was; sea, boardwalk, businesses along said boardwalk and the few wide, bright, well-kept roads of the city. Past it, a bit deeper in, were towering apartment buildings and a couple relatively puny skyscrapers, for those with the money and hunger for viewing the sea, or the PRT’s oil rig.

Hm, well. It wasn’t exorbitantly expensive before The Day of The Golden Dawn, when Scion, the lazy ass loser, finally got bored of saving cats from trees and decided to kill the Endbringers with Eidolon before both of them vanished, likely killed in the deed.

Back then, having a sea-adjascent property was gambling on Leviathan deciding not to drop by for a visit.

After that though? She heard the prices doubled in just three years, because Carol would rather talk about property prices and her investments growing than literally anything fucking interesting.

Past those apartment buildings, was where she was. The Purgatorial land where wealth and businesses both had no reason to exist, thus leading it to be a vaguely chaotic sprawl of well-kept streets and alleys and squat little apartment buildings flanked by neat little greenery and less view-worthy businesses like bars, movie theaters, nightclubs and the like. She could even hear the distant thrum of techno music if she really strained her ears.

It looked almost European, honestly. Brockton was older than one might think.

Objectively, a pretty decent part of the city to be out in, after dark.

‘Pretty decent’ in Brockton Bay meant only a ten percent chance of getting shanked in an alley for a piece of gum, rather than a sixty percent chance.

Still abysmally dogshit by normal people and cities’ standards.

She warred against herself for a few minutes, mulling it over.

It wouldn’t be too hard to walk home. It would only take half an hour. 

She realized, the more she thought about it… she just didn’t want to go home.

Sighing, she stared ahead at the street, and felt vaguely like crying out of sheer frustration. She didn’t want to go home, at all. What the fuck else was she supposed to do though?

In the car while Carol was scolding her, she had resolved herself to… some kind of rebellion.

Maybe this was it, pathetic as it was.

Wow, look at you Amy, such a rebel, staying out past your bedtime. Next decade you might use a cuss word!

So mindlessly, she walked.

“We’re not going home for a bit.” She mumbled, fishing out a cigarette and lighting it as she trudged onwards. “It’s just… I don’t want to get chewed out again. I don’t want to apologize to Vicky for being snappy with her. I don’t want to… I don’t want to go back to… all of it. I guess. I kinda wish I could just… hide somewhere, forget all of it. Act like I'm nobody. You know what I mean?” She whispered, defeated.

The Creature shifted, nodding. It wasn’t even lying, somehow. How odd.

Then it rubbed its face against her cheek. She should be more grossed out about it, but she just couldn’t muster the will, instead reaching up to scratch under its chin just the way the little bugger liked it.

Mostly, she just felt… heard, when she was with her odd pet. It was a very… new sensation.

The snake already knew her darkest secret, what was a bit more ranting? What did it matter? It listened to her. It understood, or at least it thought it did. It tried to comfort her. It wouldn’t share her secrets with anyone, it couldn’t.

… Could it write? Something to test later.

Regardless, she doubted it gave a shit. What was incest to a reptile? A Tuesday.

As she passed another crosswalk, a sudden flood of light and life brought her out of her moping, prompting her to look up at a 24/7 chicken stand open on the side of the main road, complete with even a little seating area in front of it in the form of flimsy crates and tables taking over the sidewalk.

She walked up to the counter, reading the menu boards stuck to the side of the canteen van.

God, that smelled nice.

She let the snake extend off of her neck and crawl up onto the counter, too busy checking out the menu to care.

… Pretty good prices. If she had fucking money.

Well… she was Panacea.

Normally, she’d balk at using her power for something so insignificant and petty.

Normally, she also wouldn’t be out at this hour. Or be dodging her family this hard.

It was oddly… adventurous. She didn’t see the city much during night time. Almost ever, really. Maybe from the windows of the hospital.

Regardless, she was breaking from the usual routine anyway. The ball of chaos she called The Creature broke her routine, and honestly, she wanted to keep the ball rolling. This was the most interesting and memorable week she’d had in years.

Might as well offer healing for a fucking ten piece of chicken and fries. Why not.

Fuck it. Her new motto. For tonight at least.

…The dude who owned the stand really could not give less of a damn about the large black snake pressing the flat top of its head against the glass and eyeing his hotdogs like gold bars on his counter. He looked too tired to give a shit.

Same, dude.

Eventually, he finished an order, handed it off to some gruff, greasy biker dude next to her, and turned to her.

“What do you want?” He asked, voice flat, his entire posture drooping with exhaustion.

“Food. Can I pay in healing? I’m Panacea. And I forgot my wallet.” She said, with the same tired, simple tone as him.

Kindred souls, almost.

He glanced at The Creature, who was trying to use its tail to sneak a fry out of the bin, and calmly grabbed the tail with his tongs, raising it and throwing it back out of his side of the counter, ignoring the snake’s startled hiss.

She side-eyed her pet with a narrowed gaze.

“Behave.” She grumbled.

The Creature shifted under one of the heat lamps keeping the fries warm, sitting on the edge of the metal tray, not touching any actual fries, and settled down, basking in the searing heat. 

At least it listened. Sorta.

“... Name's Rick. Fix everything that hurts and my exhaustion, and you can buy whatever you want.” Rick said, gruff voice almost challenging in its tone.

Was he doubting who she was?

She extended her hand.

He took her hand, two pairs of dead eyes meeting in the middle.

Within five seconds, his half-lidded eyes were wide with wonder and elation.

She took her hand back.

“... Goddamn, I haven’t felt this good in decades. Feel like I’m twenty again.” He rasped, amazed, salt and pepper beard shifting as he chewed on his cigarette. “Whatever you want, it’s free. For now and whenever you come back.”

She nodded, fighting off a yawn.

“You got coffee?” She sighed with a cloud of cigarette smoke pouring out of her nostrils.

“I’m fucking dogshit at makin’ it, but I got it.” He replied, honest to a fault.

“One coffee, black, and a medium menu of chicken wings and fries.” She ordered.

Taptaptaptap tap tap came from her right side, and she turned to see her snake urgently tapping the menu board with its tail, staring into her soul.

She stared at what the tail was tapping.

“... And a hot dog?”

Tap tap tap tap.

“Four. Four hot dogs.” She corrected.

The Creature nodded, wiggling its tail with contentment before it began to slither across the counter, extending its neck off of the flat wooden surface to climb back on its favourite perch, her neck, its snout pushing against her throat, then dragging its cool lips against her neck as it wrapped around her shoulders to loop over and over, her Creature scarf getting thicker with each coil.

Still a very weird sensation.

The man eyed her snake with a vague puzzlement, before making a ‘not getting paid enough to give a shit’ expression and turning to complete her order.

The other guy, some heavyset dude in his twenties waiting to order, looked like he wanted to talk to her, but also didn’t want to get near the snake.

That was a perk she hadn’t expected. The Creature was a perfect people-deterrent. When people realized it wasn’t some boogie scarf, at least.

She grabbed the lower half of her snake off the counter because it was taking too long, and stepped off to the side to sit on one of the flimsy chairs and tables lit only by the shitty canteen lights, relaxing as her snake finally settled in.

Little bugs flit in and out of the rays of light above. Cigarette smoke, hers and the owners’, mixed with the scent of frying chicken and fries and spices.

Frigid air, tinged with sea salt and brine, brushed through her hair in a strangely calming breeze.

On the little tables around her, a curious mix of humanity whispered and conversed and laughed. A young couple, stinking of booze, likely coming here after spending their night in a club somewhere. A gruff biker dude using his Harley as a seat, easily into his fifties, tearing into his sandwich while talking to some twenty year old lookin’ dude doing the same as he was, sitting on his beat up scooter, delivery boxes strapped all over the thing, talking about work things while he picked at his fries and idly chatted with the old-timer.

She idly listened to his crazy ass story about having to hold on to a railing for dear life after an elevator’s rotted out floor fell out while he was in it, going up to the fourth floor.

God, that sounded awful.

Being a delivery guy? On late night shift? In Brockton?

The guy had more balls than any hero she knew, honestly. Or just hated living.

To her left, three dudes sat around a little table covered in shitty beers and chicken wings, likely coworkers of some place or another, judging by the uniforms. They were the loudest of the bunch, laughing and spitting out funny words in foreign languages as they ribbed and pushed each other around. 

Their language sounded like… Polish? Huh. How'd they get here? What was Poland like? How did they like Brockton? She itched to ask, but didn’t really feel like talking to anyone.

It was a strange realization to have, that all of these people were people and each led their own life, just as unique and interesting and troubling as hers. Maybe more so, maybe less so, but they were all here, just like her.

She blended into the chaotic little crowd of humanity, and for once, it felt nice.

The company of her useless reptile even made it distinctly pleasant, she realized as she scratched at rippling scales, trying to ignore the itchy feeling of breaths against her jaw.

While this peaceful little moment helped somewhat, she was still worked up. Pissed and wired. From both earlier today and that bitchass cab driver.

And she had a great listener, right here.

So when her food was ready, she just… started venting, in her little corner table, uncaring of the fact it might look like she was ranting to herself. She scarfed down a small mountain of fries between grumbling endlessly about how stupid this all was, how it felt like she was trading her life for that of others, how she doubted she’d live much longer yet still wasted every second of every day, talking low enough that people couldn’t hear, but the snake could.

How she knew that she wanted to live her life and not waste her time, but didn't know what living was. She didn't know how to have fun or make memories. This little excursion was the closest she’d gotten to it in years.

The snake kept stealing her fries while she poured her heart out, because of course it would, opportunistic little shit. 

She acted like she didn’t notice it steal a chicken bone or two whenever she tilted her head even a little bit to look at the people around, watching cars and people and motorcycles come and go, a slow crawl of change.

At one point it tried to steal a chicken leg, and Amy tried to be annoyed, she really did, but all she felt was a distinct feeling of fond amusement as she threatened to steal its hot dogs and The Creature recoiled as if struck, leaving her food alone.

Greedy fucking goblin, she thought fondly.

Eventually, she wandered off again. 

Not before asking the Harley rider how old one had to be to ride a motorcycle, a flit of curiosity.

Apparently, Amy could legally drive one. Sixteen was the right age. Just had to get a licence. 

Huh… huuuuuuuuuuuuh…

She kind of wanted to try it, actually. It would give her some measure of independence. Just the idea of it made her brighten up.

It really was stupid, and reckless. Both the idea to get a motorcycle and what she was currently doing, walking around. 

But she liked the idea of both of the things, so she didn’t care.

She just wandered until she found an abandoned pile of junk behind a strip mall. Likely to be picked up by tomorrow.

… That armchair looked pretty comfy, honestly. And clean. Torn a bit, but clean. Probably from a display shop.

She sat down, and stared up at the faint few stars that shone through the light pollution.

Two minutes later, her snake popped up in her vision, looking far too smugly pleased with itself as it plopped a cracked, plastic tiara onto her head.

She snorted with laughter.

As if the sound summoned it, a racoon approached from one of the trash piles, to her surprise, hesitant and simpering, like a dog asking for food.

The snake adopted a haughty pose, snout upturned as it primly coiled itself up on her right chair arm, waving the raccoon forth with its tail, which the animal didn’t seem to understand.

Amy paused, bewildered about why the snake knew enough about royalty to be trying to make a joke about it.

But she didn’t care too much, honestly, so she went along with it, lips twitching.

She turned her nose up, gesturing forward with grace.

“You may now address The Queen of Angst and Burnout.” She declared imperiously at the raccoon, who ignored her magnanimousness to sniff around. It probably smelled the chicken they ate.

Thus, Amy the First held court.

The joke stopped being funny about five seconds in, so she fished a single fry out of her pocket, where she suspected the snake had attempted to stash some of its loot for later and failed, and tossed it to her new subject as tribute to make it go away.

The raccoon was not impressed.

“What, fries not good enough for you? Scram, peasant!” She barked, lips pulled into an unwilling grin. 

The raccoon stared.

Her loyal attendant hissed, loud and sharp.

The raccoon scampered off quickly. 

“Court adjourned.” She dryly declared, shoving her hands in her hoodie pockets as she got up with a groan, Creature coiling up her arm, then wandered off again, kicking at random bits of trash as she mindlessly enjoyed the quiet.

The city was never this quiet, this empty. It was such a bizarre sight to her. Eerie but beautiful in a way.  Like an alien mirror world. 

“Am I going crazy?”

The Creature nodded.

“Shit.”

There was a closed off street here, surprisingly. Poles and chains and pylons and everything in place needed to make sure no dumbass drove through it.

It was surprisingly in good shape. Almost finished.

She wasn’t sure what possessed her, but a certain lack of fucks to give and a sense of adventurous ‘ fuck it’ guided her to sit down in the middle of the street, lay on her back splayed out like a starfish, and idly sit in the dark, unlit street, emptying her mind.

Fuck this hoodie anyway. And fuck these jeans.

“... I could fall asleep here.” She noted quietly, genuinely tempted.

The Creature unwound from her neck, curling up into a ball next to her head.

She turned her head to it, their noses touching.

It flicked its tongue, and she scrunched her nose.

“Tickles. Stop.”

It smugly flicked its tongue again.

She rolled her eyes, smiling.

She sat against an old, busted up bus stop when a strange, dreamlike clarity seemed to wash over her, and she finally realized what she wanted, for once in her life. Something about the irregularity of today snapped her out of her funk enough to reach the realization, even if she wasn’t sure why or how. It just was.

“I think… I’m tired.” She whispered.

Her eyes burned. It was probably three or four in the morning by then. Or maybe she was being dramatic. Couldn’t be sure.

“Mentally.” She clarified, and The Creature unwound from her neck to extend its own, until it was holding its head a foot away from hers, intently listening, meeting her eyes with calm placidness.

That’s all she wanted. Someone to listen and not judge her.

So she kept talking.

“Tired of fighting for everything.” She continued, averting her gaze from the intense green of The Creature. “Of trying to get Carol to love me. It’s never enough. The grades aren’t enough, the people I save aren’t enough. I fought to get her to love me for years and it only sunk in like… a couple months ago that it will never work. I will never be good enough for her.” She whispered, feeling like a weight was being lifted off of her eternally drooping shoulders as she talked.

It felt so good, to just admit that. To say it out loud, to make it real.

It felt so good to confide in someone, even if that someone was a something.

“I’m tired of being the dependable little sister. Always there when Vicky fucks up to fix her mistakes, fix the injuries, apologize for her behaviour, all the while I’m still… always the second option. No matter how good I try to be to her. I’d give her the world if she asked, I used to think I’d die for her but... Why can’t she listen to what I want for once. I don’t ask much of her. She will never love me as much as I love her, regardless of what kind of love it is, and all I ask is some of her time, but it’s like pulling teeth. Even if I wasn’t sick in the head, I’d still feel like this. I’m tired of fighting for scraps of her time and attention.” She admitted, voice steadying with… not resentment. She could never muster that for Vicky.

Annoyance. A little bitterness, perhaps.

That… did not feel so good to admit. It just hurt. It hurt in a way nothing else could easily heal, only numb until the scar faded. 

“I could heal from dawn to dusk and it still wouldn’t be enough. Nothing I do is enough, for anyone to be satisfied, to love me, to… to just put me first. I’m just… there.” She breathed out, blinking tears out of her eyes to salvage some scrap of her pride.

“Why do other people do nothing and people s-still… still love them? Is that too much to ask for? Why can’t I have that? I don't even want to be a hero, or Panacea. I’d throw this power away in a heartbeat if I could. There are infinitely better, less selfish people for this power to go to. Why me? I want to sleep and drink coffee and read crappy books and be loved anyway.” She whispered, voice cracking once in a distinctly embarrassing way that had her cringing.

A strange, pointy, dragging sensation on her hand startled her, and she blinked down at it, until she realized what she was watching.

Her snake had stolen one of her markers from her bag, and was… drawing a heart on her hand.

She let it finish.

The snake looked up from its work, then tapped the heart, itself, then her, tail tip wriggling to catch the street light with iridescent scales.

A small smile split her face, embarrassingly warbly chuckles leaving her as she raised her hand, gently rubbing along the ribs of the Creature around her neck.

“You? We’ve known each other for five days. I don't know if I should buy that. St- you’re such a fucking sap. How can you even be a sap?” She huffed, trying to dispel the mushy atmosphere.

The warmth in her chest felt… nice.

It wasn’t a human, so it wasn’t quite what she wanted or expected, but she supposed she did have The Creature. It probably wouldn’t care who she healed or what she did in school. It wouldn’t care about her little incest crush. It wouldn’t care if Amy was boring to hang out with, or if Victoria was prettier and brighter than her.

It still liked her, for some inexplicable reason.

“All of a sudden I’m really glad you’re gonna live for so long.” She murmured, smiling.

The snake tilted its head, genuinely puzzled.

She just shrugged, smiling.

… She really should get home. She was too tired, too wrung out, too cold. 

So with a great, heaving sigh, she got up, and began the long walk home.

Of course, because nothing could go smoothly for once, that’s when she began to hear a very curious series of sounds, growing more distinct the further along she walked.

The sound of shuffling clothes, muffled pleas and grunts and high-pitched denials.

Her steps slowed, eyes widening as she began to look around.

Just alleys. Where the fuck was that coming from?

Her snake, as if reading her mind, tapped her shoulder, then pointed with its tail.

Amy stood in place, heart hammering.

What the fuck were those sounds? Were people just shagging in an alley or was something more… sinister happening?

She really, really, should just call Victoria and call the night a wash. She was already probably going to get screamed at for yanking her phone battery out, the only way to disable the trackers on it.

It would be deserved when it inevitably came. What she was doing, wandering around fucking Brockton alone late at night was beyond fucking stupid and reckless, she knew that.

But she had no friend’s houses to escape to, no partner, not like Victoria when she was in one of her moods every other week. Amy had no such retreats. What else was she supposed to do to get away from it all?

Fuck, she really-

A loud hiss, and more insistent tapping, her snake’s head popping up into her vision from under her chin to show off its gums, jerking its head towards the alley it was pointing her towards.

Ah fuck. Did she call Vicky or try to… deal with it alone?

… Vicky would take way too long, fuck! It would be at least five or ten minutes till her sister got here.

She bit her lip, then gave in.

Fine.

As per her new motto; fuck it. Right?

It wasn’t like she was defenceless.

Pulling her hood up, she jogged up, and the closer she got the more it sounded like… a struggle.

Then she rounded the corner, and stood like a deer in the headlights at the sight, feeling her snake rapidly shift to wrap around her right arm.

Two people, obviously dressed up for clubbing, were jerkily moving against each other in said alley.

The petite woman kept trying to move her head away, only for the dude’s meaty paw to pull her back into his slobbering, drunk kisses, her squished cheeks muffling her cries for him to stop, her jerky shoves and escape attempts completely ignored by the man’s hulking mass. 

It took a moment for her to realize she was watching what could only be described as rape, even if it hadn’t quite gotten to the worst part yet.

Maybe it started out consensual since the matching black club-type clothes indicated they knew each other, but… now it wasn’t.

A rush of revulsion almost made her gag, but she choked it down, and she finally took action.

“H-hey.” She squeaked out, barely audible, voice cracking.

With a full-body cringe, she tried to forget the sound.

She cleared her throat, stomping forward.

Fuck, fuck! She took self-defence lessons semi-frequently. Carol insisted on it, due to her goddamn paranoia.

It was the only thing keeping her from being an obese couch potato, really.

Still, could she fight someone for real? Probably not? She wasn’t even good at martial arts, she just knew a couple basic strikes.

Fuck, she was scared. Terrified. Of a random thug!

It was a strange thrill. New.

“Hey! B-big guy!” She yelled, heart hammering.

The girl glanced at her out of the corner of her teary eyes as she called out again, now just thirty feet away, but the dude legitimately was too fucking drunk to even realize she was talking to him, blindly pawing at his pants and the girl’s cocktail dress.

Damn it, damn it. 

On wobbly legs, she took up a running start, dropping her pillow sack of cigarette and candy along with her backpack.

Still nothing.

Of course, just as she thought this might be as easy as grabbing his nape and turning the lights off via flooding his system with enough melatonin to knock out an elephant, he realized what the sound of hammering steps getting closer meant, and ripped himself off the girl, now accidentally choking her as his hand slipped lower down, keeping the girl pinned against the wall.

She couldn’t see much, honestly, but he stumbled in place, and… and she froze to a halt just ten feet from him, because what now and holy fuck he was so goddamn tall he had two full heads on her in height now that she was close.

He answered her by barking something unintelligible in an angry tone, closing the distance in two hurried, stumbling strides, and swinging a wild haymaker straight at her head as the woman shrieked and ran away behind him.

She leaned back with a little hop, her striking leg placed behind her just like her teachers taught her, bouncing on the balls of her feet to stay light. It felt awkward, and stiff, and jittery. She wasn’t good at this.

It was also completely unnecessary because the swing missed her by two or three feet, but the thought counted, right?

She immediately jumped forward with a clumsy little hop and went to snap a kick at his rib as he stumbled from his own punch, a simple, formulaic karate liver kick, and to her surprise, it landed perfectly, and she immediately regretted it because her foot now hurt like fuck, even if he let out a pained wheeze in response, doubling over on his hands and knees, one arm tight around his side where she hit him.

Hopping back, she panted, feeling wired.

Holy shit, she actually hit someone. Her foot hurt.

She was in a fight. She was fighting someone.

She should kick his head while he was down, right?

Some inner part of her cringed. She didn’t have it in her to do such brutality, she wasn’t used to it. Besides, head trauma!

That hesitation cost her, because by the time she decided to give a soccer kick to his head a shot, he had recovered enough to surge forward like a drunken zombie mid-kick, hands grabbing at her right as she passed the point where she couldn’t cancel her strike with ease, one foot off the ground.

So, she panicked, because she hadn’t even gotten to anti-grappling techniques yet in her lessons, and instead of letting his dumbass grab her to use her power and knock him out, she tried to block his hands with her arms, letting him grab onto her hoodie sleeves.

Then The Creature sprung to action like a coiled spring, practically launching itself off her upper shoulder and sinking its fangs into the man’s nose as its body whipped around the guy’s head in tightening coils that quickly settled around his neck.

Immediately, the dude screamed like a little girl, high pitched and terrified, muscled arms letting go of her, jerking to the snake around his neck as he backpedalled so hard he lost his balance, dropping to the floor and frantically rolling as his screams cut out for choking croaks.

Then her eyes slid off whatever she had just been focusing on with a very sudden sense of disorientation.

What the fuck?

Amy panted as she stumbled back, staring in baffled awe as the man scrambled upright against the wall, clawing against his own black, squirming neck, pale face quickly becoming purple.

Why was his neck black? Was that a turtleneck? Why would a piece of clothing-

She glanced around, bewildered.

Parian was nowhere in sight.

Whatever, it didn’t matter. She ignored it.

She stared, awkwardly, keeping pace with his stumbling, weakening stumbles, unsure of what to do as he choked on… something.

It took a whopping eight seconds of awkwardly hovering around him before he finally dropped to the ground, and went still.

Another five seconds of silence followed as she waited in case he woke up.

Then she blinked, and realized his turtleneck was her fucking snake, pausing all thoughts of checking on the man’s health.

It took a moment or two before the profound bewilderment morphed into horrified realization.

“Oh. You have powers. Stranger powers.” She mumbled, voice faint.

The Creature wriggled its head around to unlodge its dozen pairs of teeth from the man’s bleeding nose, before smacking its lips, and turning to her. Then it nodded, unwrapping from the man’s neck.

Amy’s mouth opened, then closed. She glanced up.

The alley was empty.

She put her back against the wall, and slid down it, blinking at the grungy bricks as The Creature slithered up her legs, its snout still bloody.

All of a sudden, so many things and little moments made sense with the added hindsight of ‘oh, my pet lab rat somehow has powers’.

As it curled up on her lap and tilted its head in concern, she stared at it.

It couldn’t have powers. It wasn’t biologically possible.

… Neither was its brain.

No shit, Amy. What profound wisdom, dipshit. Power fuckery.

A sudden idea popped up.

“Hey, are you… are you like, a puppet? Controlled by some… controlling, Master cape, watching through a snake’s eyes?” She asked, dreading the answer a little bit as she used the back of her finger to rub up and down the snake’s throat.

The Creature stared, then huffed air out of its nose. Like what she asked was absurd or weird.

It shook its head.

Oh. Oh, thank fuck.

Okay, so some mysterious biotinker somehow could give animals undetectable intellect and powers.That sounded a lot… stronger.

Cool. Cool cool cool.

She really hoped they left the Bay already, because that was the last thing this city needed.

She moaned miserably, burying her face in her hands.

“My fucking pet has powers. What is my life?” She whine-groaned.

A tail condescendingly patted her on the head in a ‘there there, little one’ kind of gesture, and she pulled one of her hands off her face to flick its snout with a finger.

It startled, surprised, then lunged at her.

She yelped, recoiling from the way it assaulted her by… rubbing its face on hers, smearing the guy’s blood on her cheeks.

“Oh ew ew ew fuck you fuck you-” She squeaked, flailing to throw it off, laughing under her breath as all the adrenaline in her system crashed at once, leaving her a strange mix of woozy, giddy, and tired.

Then she startled with a horrified gasp.

“Fuck, the guy!” She yelped, and rushed to him, tripping over her own feet to check his pulse.

After five mute seconds, she sighed, slumping.

“Okay. He’s good.”

She stood there, staring, trying to process… all that.

It felt…

Weirdly good, to fight someone, and win, even if only because of help.

A dangerous thrill. The kind of thing she knew would bite her in the ass one day, but just felt too sweet not to think about, at least.

All of a sudden, she understood Uncle Neil and Victoria a lot better.

The good deed of saving someone didn’t even really register in her mind as something to be happy about, just grimly pleased.

She pictured herself riding around on some cool ass motorcycle, beating up thugs and stuff like a more conventional hero, and though she knew it was rather cringeworthy for her to think so… it was kind of cool. She liked the idea.

She never felt cool before.

“We should… probably go home.” She whispered, a bit lost on what this meant for her.

Already, her mind was swirling with ways to augment herself to be a better fighter, to work around her power’s restriction, and if she didn’t cut the thoughts off now they would end up being disgustingly tempting.

She couldn’t do that. Wouldn’t. She was a healer.

… And maybe she could kick someone’s ass before the healing took place, right? There, that tied in neatly.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw movement, and twisted her neck to see The Creature proudly looting the man’s wallet, rolling up a small stack of dollar bills in its tail.

Immensely proud and self-satisfied, it slithered up her leg, to her neck, and Amy rolled her eyes, going to reach for the money at the end of her pet’s tail.

The tail jerked away with an annoyed hiss, and she turned to give her pet an incredulous look.

“What the fuck are you gonna do with money?” She asked, loud and baffled.

A slow, smug, evil tongue flick was her reply, plans within plans within plans uncoiling in those green eyes.

She shook her head, amused, and stumbled back to her bags.

That was when she saw something flying overhead, and her face blanked.

… Why was her cousin flying around in full costume at this hour?

Oh.

Oh hold on.

She went for a shift at the hospital, killed her phone and its trackers mid-shift, and then got into a cab that never came home because she didn’t want to talk to her family.

Her eyes slowly widened.

Why was she just now realizing what the fuck she did?

Oh fuck. Fuck! She was so stupid! Of course they thought she was kidnapped or something! This was Brockton!

“Hey, Creature?” She asked, numbly.

It looked vaguely offended at its own name. Ungrateful bastard.

“Can you choke me out like that other guy? And then just keep going until I get all cold and stiff?” She pleaded, in a small voice.

It headbutted her.

To her immense displeasure, it only mildly startled and hurt her, rather than knocking her out.

There was a perfectly tasty looking brick wall right there. She’d love to lose a few brain cells on it.

Her snake restrained her the moment she went to move towards it, choking and struggling against her traitorous bonds.

Damn it all!

Chapter Text

“So… just to recap.” Aunt Sarah sighed, beside a visibly murderous Carol.

A clock in the back of the living room slowly blinked ‘2:44 AM’.

Amy stayed silent, nervous and twitchy before her entire extended family. Her cousins just looked annoyed and like they were struggling not to sleep on the couches.

Nervous or not, she was still in a… surprisingly good mood, for having endured this for the past half an hour.

This was… honestly so fucking lame, that she had to sit here and act guilty.

It was even lamer that the overpowering disapproval of her entire family worked. She did feel guilty, almost as much as she felt happy for having gone out on her own.

What a contradictory mess her brain was.

She couldn’t help but yearn for the odd freedom she felt a mere hour ago.

God, she really should beat people up more often. The mental health benefits were incredible. Therapy was overrated, they should just like… let mental ward patients beat up criminals with baseball bats. String them up like bright pink pinatas and give whoever managed to splatter brain matter on the wall a little golden star and a rubber ducky.

She blinked in surprise as she realized that Sarah was about to speak, trying to focus back on the real world while suppressing a self-amused smile at the mental image of a gore-splattered girl in an untied straight jacket cheering with a rubber ducky in her mouth.

“To start with…” Sarah sighed, after that silence which felt like literal hours, “You left your phone in a break room at the hospital. Then remembered that you left it there about ten minutes later, and it was gone when you came back, which means someone stole your phone. Which has tons of information on it that people shouldn’t have. Then you finished half an hour early, and didn’t wait for Victoria to come fly you back, despite the fact you had no phone with you. Why? Do you have any idea how worried we were?” Sarah pressed, hands on her hips in a classic mom pose.

To be fair to her aunt, she did actually look concerned. Now and when they found her.

She grimaced.

Ah, hello guilt. Welcome back, you bitch.

A small, dismissed part of her wanted to scoff and say something really caustic, maybe ask if she should get in danger more often since that’s the only time it felt like they gave a shit about her.

Except Vicky. Vicky did care, even when she wasn’t in actual danger. She just didn’t listen.

“Well? Why not call Victoria from the hospital, anyway? They would let you. Or Crystal, Eric? Half the family flies!” Sarah forced on, incredulous, voice raising in frustration.

“Just… didn’t want to talk to anyone today.” She weakly admitted, raising a slightly shaky hand to pet along The Creature’s ribs around her neck. Her family probably only saw a dark shape and assumed it was a scarf. God, this was so weird. Her pet had powers.

Oh, and Vicky looked all sad now, great. Fuck’s sake.

Sarah sighed.

“Okay. That’s another problem, but regardless. You got into a cab, realized you forgot your wallet home, and they kicked you out in the middle of the ride. And then you got lost somehow, even though we all know this area well, and just… what, wandered for three hours?” Sarah asked, incredulously. “Why not go into a business and ask for a phone call? Or the police station nearby? We have trained for this.”

… Ah fuck. She forgot about that.

“I… forgot. And I just didn’t want to… come back yet? I wanted to think.” She sheepishly admitted, quietly.

“And what thinking did you do during those three hours?” Carol cut in, voice outright suspicious. “Where did you wander off to?”

“Uhm. Hung out at a canteen for an hour eating chicken wings. They were on the house because I got recognized. Uh, sat at a bus stop for another hour across a corner store. Walked around for the third, found you then.” She answered, eyes on the floor, fidgeting, licking her lips.

God, her mouth felt so dry. And her chest was all… tight. It felt awful.

And so the inquisition continued.

And despite it all… she did not regret a damn thing about how the night had turned out. She wanted to do it again.

It had been exciting, it had been inspiring, it had been downright liberating. A dreamy sort of memory she wasn’t likely to forget wrapped around a blazing sense of agency. Of doing what she wanted to, for once. Of living.

Fuck, she was gonna turn into an adrenaline junkie too, wasn’t she?

Maybe Vicky would finally hang out with her.

Her hand twitched to grab her phone and check the time, just to do something with her sweaty hands, only to grimace as she remembered that she had to crush and chuck it into a trash can to get rid of evidence.

… In her defence, the thing was pretty old by now, and she had been panicking when she decided to do that.

Taylor was mildly upset.

Mildly upset was that anger level right before she started plotting ways to have people stubbing their toes into the corner of every furniture in their goddamn house.

She was trying to stay quiet to not distract Amy, but she was so goddamn pissed at her friend’s family that it was hard to stay still and not hiss like a deflating tire at them. 

Even with the admittedly good story that Amy made up to excuse everything of tonight, it apparently wasn’t enough to just scold her for being a bit forgetful or avoidant and let her be. No, there had to be a whole shaming ritual in the form of an endless goddamn lecture from an angry Carol.

It was almost formulaic. Bad cop, worse cop. Sarah, then Carol. Had they practised how to chew out a teenager?

Some of the possible scenarios mentioned made her roll her eyes. Why on Earth would Hookwolf be running around New Wave territory looking to kill Amy? That was so goddamn ridiculous!

And why would junkies kidnap her if they recognized her? Why would junkies be in this territory? This was rich people country. Or well, neighborhood.

And god damn, the amount of thinly veiled insults to intelligence, discipline, decision making, and attitude would have been impressive if the woman wasn’t throwing them at Amy.

Some excerpts of what baffled and pissed her off included Carol’s unbelievably condescending tone while the woman summarized everything Amy did wrong in that scenario, the constant suspicious glare, and the genuine… just… cold distrust in the woman’s eyes.

The woman looked at Amy like she was a fucking bug, intruding on a clean household and filling it with its unwanted chirping.

It was unbelievable. What a bitch.

Her new friend didn’t even look sad or resigned or angry, she just looked tired, and that was mildly worse, somehow.

So when Amy was finally sent up to her room, looking… cowed, but surprisingly unaffected, and nobody said what Taylor wanted them to say, she had to grit her teeth- or gums, rather, her opinion of Amy’s relatives sinking below the earth.

Nobody asked Amy why she didn’t want to talk to anyone. Or why she was avoiding her own family.

She wasn’t going to act like this was some horrible family of abusers or anything, because it wasn’t, but holy shit the whole thing was so much and nobody seemed interested in doing anything but scolding Amy. Was it that hard to ask why she felt the need to walk off in the middle of the night, to ask what was eating at her?

Taylor was starting to realize just how good she really had it, with her dad. Amy’s teary rant about how she fought all her life for her own mother to love her, for people to love her, only to realize it will never happen, really put it into perspective that Taylor was the lucky person that Amy had been comparing herself to. Taylor was the one who had to do nothing, and was still loved. Amy… wasn’t. And it was all she had wished for.

Maybe she had been taking her dad for granted, in hindsight…

First thing that did was make her miss her dad a little. Even if they barely talked when she was still home.

The second thing that did was piss her off and fill her with an odd sense of determination.

She would be a damn good friend to Amy. The absolute bestest. The moment she figured out how to change out of this stupid form, it would get much easier to boot.

She turned, filled with determination. The first thing to do was be more clear that she was not a snake, because she had the creeping susp- why was Amy undressing?

Her mind blanked in numb shock as she stared at Amy roughly yanking her shirt off, frozen on the cluttered desk. Her tail twitched.

Ah. Hm. Black bra.

C-cool.

Wow, that’s a lot of cleavage. N-no padding? No wonder Amy’s chest made such a good napping pillow.

And- alright, so the freckles did go down to her… her uhm, collarbones. That was so bizarrely… something.

Her eyes flicked down, as if in a shocked trance, and she felt a strange sense of confused panic well up inside her as she noted how erm…

Amy’s midriff looked weirdly… soft but firm? Squishy, but tight. Supple, in a… nice, cuddly way, and no other way.

And so pale. Like creamy snow.

… She kind of wanted her hands back all of a sudden.

Wait- why did she want her hands back?

Why was she still looking? She should really stop! This was weird!

Amy’s hands went to the waistband of her jeans, and that was finally enough for her to startle to awareness and jerk her head around to stare wide-eyed at the wall.

A second too late, honestly, because she still saw most of Amy’s erm… backside, even as she whirled away. At least from a bit of a side profile, blurry from motion.

This was weird. This was so weird? Why was her brain refusing to let go of the image? She felt vaguely panicked, disgusted, guilty, and tempted, all at the same time.

…Amy’s hips were so much wider than they looked under those baggy clothes, huh?

Stop! Shut up, brain! What does that have to do with anything!?

She missed having vocal cords, because she vaguely felt like screaming.

It wasn’t that bad. Nothing special. A swimsuit showed more, r-right? So she could stop thinking about it. Nothing weird about it. She’d seen more at summer camp last year, for god’s sake.

… She has a really nice butt though, like, objectively, her animalistic hindbrain replied stubbornly, bringing the image of creamy flesh back into the forefront of her mind.

And that’s about when she decided enough was enough, and she would vacate her skull of all thoughts, by force if necessary. 

Amy startled at a loud thud which repeated in a steady, fast-paced tempo of thudthudthudthud, like someone lazily banging a fist against a door, glancing around the room in confusion as she kicked her jeans off.

She found the source pretty quickly.

Which left her wondering why the hell her snake was furiously banging the top of its flat head against her closet door like it was trying to knock itself out or give itself a hernia.

She shook her head in tired amusement, moving to open said closet. Her clothes were in there.

Her snake immediately glanced up at her when she tried to nudge it aside with her foot, seemingly by reflex, its pupils quickly rounding out into dark, hazy circles, before they snapped back to panicked slits, and it practically snapped its head away and dove under her bed, like she was about to eat it.

That was… fucking weird.

She stared, thoroughly confused, for a few seconds, before deciding to finish dressing. She wasn’t in the mood to catch The Creature half-naked.

Taylor stayed in the comfort of the shadows for a minute or two, resisting Amy’s slightly concerned calls and grabby hands by grumpily hissing from her dusty corner.

She even had a new roommate, a stick-thin little spider. Creepy critter.

Amy shrugged in confusion, looking a tiny bit hurt, and gave her room, after a bit.

Nice.

No, not nice. But she needed room.

So, she got to thinking. Not about Amy. Or her freckles and how soft-

Ahem.

Not that. Because she was straight. Probably. M-most likely, maybe.

…This didn’t used to be a problem before, why was she suddenly having this… this?!

Why did she never feel weird around Emma back then? She had been more than old enough to know about these things a year and something ago, before Emma flipped out.

Was it because she used to see Emma as a sister? That…

Wait, that felt kind of right. She did used to see Emma as a sister. What about…

She did remember being a bit flustered around Emma’s older sister, Anne, who… hm……

Oh.

Oh no.

Maybe she hadn’t been staring at Anne out of jealousy back then.

Oh god, this was so fucking mortifying!

It was a problem for later, she decided. She wasn’t gonna think about it. In fact, there was no problem, because nothing had changed, and she was just feeling- curious.

So she forcefully started thinking about Amy’s general behaviour instead.

Which all pointed to the girl somehow still treating her like a snake. Probably?

Either that or the girl was an exhibitionist and kept making weird comments that didn’t fit what you would tell a person.

Like earlier in the alley, when the girl called Taylor her pet. Then asked her if she was a puppet?

She would like to think Amy would not tell that to a person.

So, the girl was just confused. Or maybe didn’t quite believe her?

She wasn’t sure how to feel about either option.

So, she could either make it even more abundantly clear… or just kind of roll with it until the healer figured it out.

The right thing to do would be the first.

But in her defence… if she told her now, the girl would think she was a goddamn creep! She hadn’t meant to watch her change, but she kind of did, a bit?!

Goddamn it!

With a long, slow sigh, she slithered out onto the carpeted floor of Amy’s room, and turned the heater on, curling up in front of it.

… She lasted about half an hour before the yearning of actual softness and warmth and darkness overcame her, and with a massive sigh, she flicked the heater off and crawled back to Amy’s bed in sound defeat.

If Amy noticed her trying to avoid looking at her or laying on her chest, she didn’t mention it.

Thirty minutes later, Amy slept, and Taylor slithered off back to the computer, mind too busy and chaotic to properly sleep.

All she could focus on was Amy. And how Amy made her feel… weird.  

Sleeping was impossible.

This is the worst.  

Email time, then. Amy’s words on that bus stop still hit her like a gut punch every time she thought of them.

… Still, even though she missed her dad, she didn’t want to go back yet. An email or two should suffice for a bit.

Hopefully he wasn’t too worried?

Taylor was being subjected to a private conversation she should not be hearing.

It was surprisingly uncomfortable.

“No, no, it’s okay, you were kind of pissed off already from other stuff, I get it.” Vicky said, dismissively, hesitating, before leaning back onto the kitchen table to give Amy a pointed look. “You don’t have to come to these double dates, you know that right? If you’re that against it, maybe we should-” Vicky started, reluctantly.

Amy shook her head, deflating.

“No, no, it’s fine. I just wanted us to do something for once, but whatever. This works.” Amy huffed.

Taylor didn’t believe her. She had that air of resigned duty she carried only when she was on her way to the hospital, as far as Taylor had observed.

Victoria somehow did buy it, because she brightened up.

Taylor was struck with the weird idea that maybe Victoria didn’t really know her sister.

Or maybe she was just presuming things, but it was hard to imagine Amy liking a double date. Especially at a mall, what the hell? Of course the brainless popular bimbo wanted to go to the mall for a date…

… Okay, that was a really mean and uncalled for thought, she realized after a second of being surprised at herself.

Why was she pissed at Victoria?

… Probably reminded her of Emma, or something, right? Nothing more.

Eugh, the date.

The more she thought about it, the more the idea of Amy going on a date with someone, fake or not, was for some reason very… displeasing.

She was feeling weird again.

Damn you, Amy.

“Carol figured out how to ground you.” Mark sighed, startling all three of the girls at the table. Even the slithery one.

Amy raised a slow, unimpressed brow. The Creature tilted its head, and ducked down when she tapped the flat top of its head with a finger, reminding it to not draw attention, Stranger power or not. 

“How?” She asked, suppressing a smile at The Creature’s sassy huff.

“She knows you hate doing… stuff, so she decided to make you waste time on extra-curriculars. I figured it would be good if they were at least useful to you. So… what kind of time-waster would you think is useful? I’d rather it’s not completely pointless.” Mark quietly noted.

Amy thought for all of five seconds, before her eyes brightened.

“Martial Arts training and… and driving licences, maybe? I’d like to start gathering all my licenses and stuff.” She declared.

Mark mustered enough energy to raise his head from his cereal, and give her a vaguely uncomprehending stare.

Victoria was far more taken aback, absolutely poleaxed by her request.

“I… okay? Uhm. She’ll… set that up.” Mark agreed.

She fought the urge to pump a fist in victory.

Nice fucking grounding, Carol! This was exactly what she wanted!  And she’d been wondering how she would get to do either of those without people asking questions!

“Wait, wait, why do you need a license ?” Victoria asked, voice on the edge of being offended by the mere idea.

Well, almost without asking questions.

“You obviously got better things to do than be my air taxi all the time, and it’d be nice not to have to walk around like everyone else. Also, this is America. Us non-flying mortals need a licence.” She lied, shrugging.

Honestly, she kind of just wanted a cool ass motorcycle that would make her feel like a badass, like back in the alley. It could be like her uh… crime fighting tool? Who the hell patrolled on foot these days anyway? Movers and schmucks with too much time on their hands.

… Wait, was she gonna do that again, then? Why was she already planning for it?

Ugh, why did the thought excite her? That shit was scary as fuck and she was up against a stupendously drunk moron, not even a thug. What if she had to face an actual cape?

What would she even do to fight… back…

Her mind flooded with ideas like someone suddenly flicked on a fire hose.

Oh shit. She could… she could do a lot, actually. She could even get around her Manton limit and make herself better. Or- skin cloak! Living but reactive based on how she changed it.

…

Thorn launcher with paralytic agent on her hand!

She shook her head, feeling faintly dizzy from both fascination, interest, and self-disgust.

She shouldn’t. It would be terrible. She didn’t trust herself to start experimenting, breaking her rules.

But it did feel pretty great… and she had good backup, with the Creature around her… And it’s not like the city was that dangerous these days. Ever since the Endbringers got killed, the PRT started getting a whole lot more generous with hero transfers to the bay. They’d gone like, a whole six months without indie or hero deaths so far.

Also… she wasn’t like… making viruses or anything, she was just making herself less likely to die. Therefore, more likely to stay alive so she could heal more. Honestly, she was basically just saving countless lives by making these things, if she made them, right?

Yeah… yeah! She was just safeguarding the thousands of future lives she would save by not getting herself killed. Self-protection was important.

God, it would be so fucking cool if she could make some kind of bio-cloak…

… Fuck, she wanted to patrol and do all that corny hero shit. The desire was almost painful in its intensity. She’d done it once and was already hooked.

“And- fighting? Really? Why?” Vicky asked.

What?

She took a moment to remember what they had been talking about, before startling with a jerky shrug.

“Need to keep fit somehow if I’m not gonna walk anywhere in this city again, between air taxis and scooter rides. And uhm, self-defense, yeay?” She tried, cringing as she spooned cereal into her mouth.

Vicky flapped her mouth, still utterly shocked, even as she nodded.

“Oh. Yeah, okay.”

And that was that.

Amy bit down a smile.

Everything had gone alright, all things considered.

The entire school day passed without a single crisis, for once.

Amy fully abused the fact nobody else could see her wrapped around her best friend’s neck to play random games with her on the pages, or just straight up cheating by tapping questions and sections she didn’t care to understand and expecting Taylor to answer them.

Trust her, she tried to steer Amy back towards the path to righteous education, but Amy looked way too done with school to possibly convince her to pay attention, so she sighed and gave in eventually, tapping the answers.

“You know math. You know math better than me. Fuckin’ of course.” Amy mumbled under her breath. “Guessing you can write, then?”

She hesitated, for quite a while.

How does one write with a tail? Thumbs were kind of important.

She grabbed a pencil and scrawled out the words ‘can try’ in vicious chicken scratch on Amy’s notebook.

“That’s a no then.”

She bonked Amy on the head with said pencil, prompting a tiny yelp as the wood bounced off her skull and clattered to the floor, gone forever.

There were other moments of note that she fondly remembered of the day, like Amy smugly feeding her cafeteria fries to the growing bafflement of Victoria’s friends who were wondering how Amy was doing her magic trick of making fries disappear.

Their expressions were fucking priceless.

She got bored mid-way and went off to commit some mild tomfoolery, at some point, granting a couple petty wishes from her dedicated shrine-sink in the girls’ bathroom. Mostly tripping bullies and stealing teacher’s exam notes, things like that. Or sneaking love notes from one person to another.

She also stole a bunch of crap she thought Amy might appreciate, and received a deadpan stare of exasperation by the ungrateful healer when she was presented with a small plastic bag full of various candies, cool pens, and cigarettes.

“You fucking criminal. ” Amy huffed, rolling her eyes as her chest convulsed in silent laughter, lips twitching, trying not to smile.

It was bizarre how happy that made Taylor, making Amy happy. It was so nice.

Then it was time for the dreaded preparations to the even more dreaded double date.

She felt her teeth flex in her jaws, gums grinding, and tried to figure out what about the damn date was pissing her off so much. Was it Vicky, and how oblivious she was to her own sister?

Probably.

At least she could take a short nap while Amy went to the bank, since literally nothing of interest ever happened in a bank.

The bank.

It was… sure was.

Amy was not in the mood for this shit.

Nothing was happening, thankfully, but still. She was in a bad mood from knowing she had to go to another stupid ass date to cover her ass, she hated crowds, and she hated waiting in line for ages just to take out money from her own goddamn bank accounts because Carol refused to let her make a bank card.

Carol could say it was for safety all she wished, Amy personally thought that the woman didn’t trust her to have access to resources, even her own.

Pulling her hood lower over her head, she let out a long sigh, not giving much of a crap about how much of an antisocial bitch she looked like at the moment, glaring at the floor.

The only distraction she had was The Creature, who was not being nearly distracting enough, breathing steadily against her neck, seemingly half-napping.

And then, of course, because fuck her life, people started murmuring and raising their voices, and when she turned around to check out what the commotion was…

Fucking villains were walking through the front doors.

Her teeth ground and clattered as she wondered what fucking force of nature up in the sky decided to fuck her over, specifically, all the time.

Because this was such bullshit. What were the fucking odds?!

The next few seconds were a brief, tense stretch of breaking glass, evil monologues, and one catty blonde bitch who assured people that no, they weren’t going to die, blah blah blah.

Hands shaking in anger in her hoodie pockets, she did as instructed, laying down on the floor.

Face side up, flat on her back, blankly staring up at the ceiling as the villainess kept talking.

Like goddamn, shut up! You made your point!

A black, angular head popped up in her view, tilting its head in a wordless question.

She huffed, and shook her head.

Whatever, she knew exactly what to do.

She discreetly reached for her phone, ready to press the emergency help button and get New Wave here to stomp these small fry bastards into a jail cell…

And froze as she promptly remembered that her phone was in a trash compactor on the other side of the city by now, probably.

Something about her body language, or the odd way she was laying on the floor, must have drawn the eye of the blonde bitch, because all of a sudden, the girl’s speech cut out for an incredulous laugh.

“Wow, didn’t expect you here.” The blonde purred in a mocking tone, still out of sight, because her eyes stayed on the ceiling, firmly disinterested. She was going to sit here and wait for this bullshit to be over.

“Since I need a hostage in the back too, how about you get up and follow me, Pan-pan?” The blonde continued.

Her eyes widened as she realized the bitch was talking to her, and she raised her head just to see the villain walking steadily towards her, pistol in hand, strutting as if on a catwalk.

“Up, up, up up.” The girl sing-songed, gesturing at her with the pistol.

Her jaw trembled in anger.

“Fuck you.” She spat, anxiety and fear curdling in her chest as her eyes flicked to the pistol.

She really should shut the fuck up. She had no idea who this bitch was. She might actually shoot her.

The blonde only snorted, thankfully, a half-smirk growing on her face as she came to a stop next to her, and lightly kicked her leg.

“God, you wish. Though perhaps I’m not quite the curvy blonde you were hoping for, hm?” The bitch smugly asked, voice a mix of mockery and disgust.

She froze, eyes widening as her brain numbed with terror. Her heart stopped beating, for one, two beats, then slammed into her ribs when it started again, as if to compensate, a bruising sensation deep in her chest.

A stuttered breath jerked out of her chest.

How- what? What? How did she-?

“Name’s Tattletale, by the way. As a psychic, I love secrets. So unless you want me tattling on yours, come along.” Tattletale purred, tapping her leg with her foot like an impatient toddler.

Almost in a daze, trembling in rage and fear, she nodded, and turned onto her stomach, shakily getting up.

A hand grabbed her by the arm, and yanked her up the rest of the way.

She jerked with a snarl of fear and anger, on the brink of swinging at the bitch, but aborted the motion before it even began, the grip on her arm still firmly in place.

“Faster, princess.” Tattletale pushed, and turned to their right, starting to push her down the hallway ahead of her.

She bit her tongue until they passed the first door.

“What the fuck were you talking about?” She pressed, having to be sure, now far from prying ears.

Tattletale shuddered in revulsion, a guttural noise not unlike a gag coming before she forced words out that made her stomach plummet to the floor.

“Your little incest obsession. You should stop making moony eyes at your sister in public appearances, you know?” Tattletale replied, disgust clear in her voice. “Did you alert anyone on where you were? Is New Wave coming here?” Tattletale pressed, walking alongside her now, eyeing her face with strange intensity.

She was about to tell her to go fuck herself before the prod of cold metal against her spleen reminded her that she had a literal gun to her side.

Her heart was trying to beat out of her chest, adrenaline rising and rising. She was shaking a little, a mix of fury and fear.

“Yeah, they know. They’re coming.” She lied.

“Okay, so you didn’t, good to know.” Tattletale replied, voice falsely chipper and endlessly smug.

Bitch.

“God, you really are a mess, huh? How do you feel about your mom? Awww, so much unresolved trauma there. Poor Amy.” Tattletale snickered, finding terrible amusement in her miserable life.

God, what a shit fucking person. 

She was taken to a back hallway, and pushed to the side, Tattletale pecking at a keypad to a thick door with her left hand, right lazily pointing the pistol towards her, trigger finger on the barrel.

“You just be a good girl and sit still there, yeah? You seem used to restraining yourself, after all.” Tattletale hummed, in much too good a mood for her relentless mocking.

The guilt of being reminded of what kind of human trash she was dug into her like a knife, turning her anger inwards to an extent.

Her ashamed glare wandered down, trying to contain the rising urge to tackle this utter cun-

…Why were Tattletale’s shoelaces tied together? What the fuck? How did she walk here?

Before she could comprehend what to do with this information, the pistol jerked towards Amy, startling her and yanking Tattletale’s arm alongside her entire body sideways for a few inches, the gun slipping out of the villain’s hand and… vanishing into thin air.

They both stared incredulously at where the pistol used to be, then jerked their eyes up, gazes meeting, one baffled and alert, one utterly furious.

Something in her mind flickered, and she remembered, faintly, almost uncaringly; she had a pet. With powers.

Thanks, Creature.

She lunged forward.

Taylor was doing Hero things.

As a Hero act doer, one must be prepared to be righteous.

That is why when she stole the ren-faire cosplayer’s sceptre, she only swung it into his nuts at full force once, and very pointedly did not laugh at the squeaky toy adjacent sound the guy made as he crumpled into a ball on the floor.

Her magnanimousness extended to the guy in the motorcycle helmet, because in the absence of being able to choke him out due to that annoying, bulky helmet that largely blocked his neck, she had something even better.

A junkie.

Or perhaps just someone with a condition, she wasn’t sure.

Point was, she found an old man in the back fumbling through a ball full of pharmaceutical things in the unfolding chaos as she tossed things around to distract the villains, and decided to ste- to righteously liberate one of the syringes in his bag. 

What was inside it?

Well, while playing eeny-meeny-miney-moe with syringes was probably both fun and reasonable, she was more keen on forced pharmaceutical trials, meaning that Mr. Helmet was about to tell her.

And boy, did he.

After jabbing him in the ass with it and inwardly snickering at the way he jumped, It took a few seconds for him to start stumbling around like a drunkard, and before a minute had passed he had  already committed himself to dramatically monologuing into the corner of an empty room infront of a single mirror, his upper body swinging back and forth like a drunken metronome.

She was a bit worried about injecting unknown medicine into a guy, but Amy was like, right there. She’d fix him in a minute or two.

Now, watching him was fun, but she had a job to do, and being a menace was a full time employment as far as she was concerned.

While the cosplayer guy was busy calling someone in his walkie talkie a bitch, which was quite rude, she busied herself with quickly checking on Amy, who seemed to be beating the shit out of the smug blonde.

Seeing as she probably had her handled, she went back to the entrance, to start tossing Literally Everything at the cosplayer, ranging from pens to chairs, until she figured out how to tase him by accident while beating his ass with the staff as he futilely tried to defend himself from the invisible menace with a broken chair, yelling about ‘Grue’ or something.

She assumed that was Motorcycle Helmet guy’s actual villain name.

Turning around had informed her that ‘Grue’ seemed to have escalated his dramatic monologue into losing a fistfight to previously mentioned mirror.

The ending of the bank robbery was rather anticlimactic, honestly.

She was kind of hoping of getting to regally pose on top of a pile of unconscious villains in front of the police when they came, but some random butch girl came in, furious, and just grabbed them by the scruffs one by one, dragging them out, then calling over some beastly abominations that genuinely scared the shit out of her to grab the guys.

It was then that she realized that this random girl was with the bastards, because after loading the duo on the dog she started moving towards the bank again, to delve deeper for the blonde, presumably.

Taylor tripped her, then eventually escalated to pulling her pants down. Then throwing balls of paper at her head from every direction.

That humiliation was seemingly enough to get her to give up and leave with her defeated teammates.

She took a moment to preen with her new royal sceptre, giddy with excitement and pride about beating three goddamn villains on her own.

Then she remembered that she left Amy with a villain, and startled into a furious slithery sprint back inside.

The blonde bitch jerked back as Amy lunged forward, seemingly trying to get into a loose boxing stance while retreating, which didn’t work for obvious reasons, her balance immediately failing with a startled cry as she fell down.

Amy followed, her knee accidentally slamming onto the girl’s stomach as she jumped on her, a croaky gag of agony which didn’t really register because Amy was too busy snarling and swinging punches at the bitch, flailing arms blocking or deflecting most of them, only clipping the sides of the villain’s head rather than her bitchass face. 

“Fucking- bitch! Don’t eve-” She snarled between punches, then got cut off by a much more effective punch straight to the front of her mouth, shutting up for a moment in dazed surprise. 

Her lip hurt so much. Something was running down her chin. Her teeth felt raw.

The same hand grasped at her face, clawing, sharp nails drawing lines of fire down the right side of her face, and she quickly turned some of the fat and muscle in the villain’s hand into local anesthetic compounds, things she was familiar and quick with, the villain’s fingers quickly growing limp and numb along with the wrist, flopping uselessly as they writhed around on the ground, clumsily clawing and hitting each other in mindless frenzy.

Amy had advantages Tattletale didn’t.

Full mobility, weight, anger, and short hair.

Finally, at some point, she managed to put her thumb on the girl’s forehead for a few seconds, her fist firmly wrapped in her hair as they shouted and grunted at each other like rabid animals.

Slowly, over the course of a couple seconds, Amy locked her in place, grasping every nerve and tendon and wrapping it in the fist of her power, holding it still and firm.

Tattletale’s eyes widened, further and further, staring up at her, helpless. Frozen still, muscles unresponsive.

She could see the rising terror in her, biological reactions laid bare.

Staring down, panting like a dog, riding the high of adrenaline, an effervescent sense of ecstatic triumph rising in her chest, her expression less of a snarl and more of a toothy grin, Amy felt right. Alive.

She wound her right arm back as far as it would go, and swung an absolute haymaker at the bitch, the villain’s head snapping to the side as she let out a roar, as much as a small teenage girl could describe her own cry as such.

The unfathomably soul-deep satisfaction of properly punching the bitch that practically shared her darkest secret to a crowded fucking bank lobby was only curtailed by the shearing, electric agony in her hand that registered the next moment, making her gasp with a guttural, gasping whimpering sound as she cradled her hand to her chest, tears blooming in her eyes as she leaned back and stumbled off the villain, onto the floor, curling up into a groaning, rolling ball of miserable teenager, cradling the limb to her chest.

“F-fhguck. Fhaaack. NGhghhghfhuuck.” She animalistically moaned and groaned, strangled, cradling her hand, writhing on the floor, shaking like a leaf as tears ran down her face.

Damn it, damn it! What the fuck was that? Did she break her fucking hand?!

Between the haze of tears and shaking adrenaline, she uncurled from her ball, just a bit, to check on Tattletale just to make sure she wasn’t about to get up and stomp her.

The villain was limp where she left her, breathing evenly… was she knocked out?

Holy shit, she knocked her out with a punch.

Any joy she might have felt at that was ruined by the agony pulsing in her hand. She was too afraid to try and move her fingers.

On the hallway outside, instead of the girl’s friends coming to save her and beat Amy to death, she only heard the sounds of consummate chaos. Probably The Creature making a distraction so the others wouldn’t come? She hoped so.

Thinking was so hard right then.

With a miserable sob of pain, she slowly got up on shaky legs, and stumbled down the hallway, to a potted plant.

With her unharmed hand, she ripped off one of its giant leaves, reforming it, turning it into a tiny, thumb-sized pouch of a local anesthetic in the shape of a teardrop, turning the tip into hardened plant matter in the shape of a hollow thorn, thin as a needle.

It should have taken her a minute or two.

It only took twenty seconds, somehow, before she was done, trying to still her adrenaline-shaking fingers as she jammed the plant’s needle-thorn into her injured hand and squeezed the main body to inject herself, before chucking the pouch into a nearby trash can.

Then, she just had to sit there, whimpering and gasping and blinking the tears out of her eyes for a couple seconds, until, almost abruptly, the agonizing pain faded to a dull, tingling discomfort, then, absolutely nothing.

A long, long sigh of relief came as she finally felt alright again, allowing herself to actually celebrate, inwardly.

She took down a villain.

She, Amy Dallon, took down a villain. Not alone, and not cleanly so, but she did it. She beat someone. Her worth wasn’t simply those she could heal. She was her own person, and she could do things if she wanted to. It felt so good, no matter how bizarre the thought and notions were.

She wiped the tears out of her eyes with her uninjured left hand, breathing deep and slow, sniffling to get the snot back into her nose, quickly calming down.

Her hand came back covered in tears, but also, blood. A lot more than she would find reasonable.

She blinked, uncomprehending, before she rose, and inspected her reflection in the storage room window.

Oh shit, she looked bad.

There were two long, deep horizontal lines on her right cheek from Tattletail’s sharp nails, going from just below her eye to just above her lip. She didn’t even notice, but as the adrenaline faded, it began to pulse with pain.

Did the bitch try to claw her fucking eyes out? Goddamn psycho! What the hell was wrong with her?!

Her first thought was if that scars, I’m going to look so cool.

Her second thought was that all of a sudden, the scratches started hurting like a bitch because her brain realized she was hurt, and there were ugly, salty tears getting into the wounds and making them hurt twice as much.

She grimaced with a long, deep hiss of pain, regretting throwing her little anesthetic pouch into the trashcan, inspecting her torn lip, bleeding a long, thin, watery line down her chin and neck.

Fuck, she looked like shit. And her shitty clothes were fucking ruined.

She inspected herself for a few seconds more, being filled with a strange sense of… pride.

She never felt proud of herself, not really. But here and now, in that reflection? She looked like a fighter. Like a warrior, a survivor, no matter how tiny the conflict.

How stupid was it, that she kind of liked it? 

God, she needed a therapist… Or more people to beat up. It was pretty fun.

She snorted out a stuttering laugh.

With another deep breath, she turned, and walked towards Tattletale, peeking around the wall to check deeper into the bank.

It was… pretty empty and quiet. There was a lot of noise from outside, but not much from inside. She watched a few people run out of the front doors or the broken panes of glass, and heard the sounds of commotion outside, getting further and further away.

Was it… over?

She walked down the hall a bit to see better into the lobby, and saw… absolute chaos. Papers were overturned, an AC unit was scattered in pieces on the floor, desks and chairs and water cups were tossed around everywhere, and there was a whole ocean of papers scattered everywhere.

She breathed out in astonishment, before turning around and grabbing Tattletale with her free hand, struggling to drag the girl down the hallway with one hand, panting and sweating by the time she got her to the lobby.

That stupid fucking catsuit was so slippery and hard to grab onto. Her fingers were aching.

Eventually, the automatic doors opened again, and the sound made her turn to see a long black shape speeding through piles of broken glass towards her.

She startled for a moment before realizing what it was, and relaxing with a deep sigh of relief, keeping her injured hand close to her chest.

“Holy shit, are you-” She started, and startled when it literally launched itself at her midriff, rapidly wrapping around her waist then quickly clambering over her until it was wrapped around her upper body in a loose, worried embrace, its triangular head flitting over her with worry, inspecting her for injuries. It lingered on her bloodied face.

A smile twitched onto her lips, which then had her grimacing as her lip pulsed with pain.

The Creature gently nudged her injured hand with its snout, obviously worried, which had her jerking away with a hiss of alarm, rather than actual pain. 

“I think I broke it, don’t touch it. Where were you after the gun? Giving the other guys hell?” She asked, hushed, letting go of Tattletale’s arm. 

The Creature nodded quickly, its pupils rounded with worry and concern.

On impulse, she grabbed it by the neck, and gave it a solid kiss on the flat top of its head, ignoring its squirming as she trapped its upper coils against her chest in a tight hug, letting herself sigh in relief and gratitude.

“Thanks for the help.” She murmured, and The Creature stilled, before curling closer, either in defeat or reciprocation. “Also I think I got my blood all over your head.”

The Creature hissed in annoyance, trying to wriggle free.

She laughed, letting her snake go to pick up Tattletale’s arm as she began to slowly drag her ass to the entrance, where she could spy some police lights outside as The Creature slowly climbed up her body like a tree.

“Oh, thank god it’s over.” A voice came from behind her, and she startled, whipping around to find one of the bank tellers crawling out from under one of the desks.

Immediately, she remembered why she was here, and her eyes widened, dropping Tattletale’s hand as she quickly rushed over to the counter, blocking the woman from leaving with a quick hand gesture to stop.

“I want to make a withdrawal.” She rushed out.

The old coot stared at her, incredulously.

“Now?” The woman asked, disbelieving.

“Yes, now!” She snapped. “Do you have any idea how fucking far the next bank is?” She asked, voice raised.

“Absolutely not, are you crazy?! Get out of here!” The old bitch barked, pushing out of the separator. “Get out of the way!”

She grit her teeth, and stepped aside, beyond annoyed at this point as the woman jogged away.

Then a tail waved a thin stack of money in front of her face, and she stared uncomprehendingly at it for a moment before she turned her head to the culprit, her dumbass snake who just stole a bunch of money from… somewhere.

“Are you fucking serious?! There are cameras he…” She started, then glanced at said cameras and trailed off as she realized that they were all broken. Methodically so, assumedly done by the villains. 

Her mouth closed, lips twitching in amusement, eyes flicking from her smugly pleased bastard of a pet and the money it was jiggling around its head like they were keys before a toddler, to the broken cameras, to the empty lobby.

She really shouldn’t, but… it was insured, as Tattletale had said. And she was not going to another goddamn bank today, or tomorrow. Hell no. And the cops would think the villains took it.

Her bad mood vanished as she snickered.

“Fine, hide it, quick! You little criminal.” She hushed, and went back to Tattletale, chest shaking with silent snickers.

How’s this for teen rebellion, huh Carol? Fuck you. And fuck that old coot. A withdrawal would take like thirty seconds!

The sight of the sleeping villain almost doubled the speed of her gait as it reminded her of what she did.

The feeling of winning, of taking down a villain, of being capable, was a high so incredible it almost had her grinning despite the pain of the act. It was unfortunate that her mood still wasn’t that great, because her face hurt. Along with both her arms. And knee. And teeth. And where the hell were the heroes?

The moment she stepped outside, she got her answer, because that was when the Wards made their heroic entrance to an empty bank’s front door, only to be met with her walking through the doors, glass crunching under her sneakers.

Face, mouth and neck covered in blood, hood up, dragging a villain out.

Their incredulous looks made her chest swell with pride.

Yeah, gaze upon me in awe, motherfuckers!

She got into a fight. She won it. She wasn’t just a healing dispensary. She was a goddamn person and she could do things and she was allowed to feel good about it because she did it to people who sucked. 

“Is that Tattletale?” Clockblocker asked, breaking the silence.

Aegis startled, floating close, only a loose wariness in the fact he kept a six foot distance from her. 

“You, who are you? Do you need medical attention?” He asked, wary and concerned at the same time.

It was her turn to give him an incredulous look.

“Are you fucking stupid? I’m Amy!” She exploded, annoyed and angry as she remembered that they just got here, shaking Tattletale’s arm. “And yes I do! Where the fuck were you guys!?”

The Creature hissed in support, unheard as it climbed up her back to loosely wrap around her neck again like a gigantic scarf. Was it getting heavier, or was she just tired?

“We- it’s been eight minutes since this started, we got here really quickly!” Aegis defended, flustered. “Why are you here? Are you okay?”

She opened her mouth, furious, only to pause.

That… okay, yeah, eight minutes was actually really quick. Fuck, was it really over that quickly? It felt like half an hour had gone by.

She grit her teeth, and tossed Tattletale’s arm aside, growling under her breath as she cradled her broken hand.

“Fuck, whatever, get me to a hospital. I think I broke my hand.” She snapped.

Aegis instantly turned and pointed.

“Ambulance, there. How’d you break it?” He asked, curious.

She stomped off, somewhere between prideful and joyous, miserable and furious.

“On her fucking jaw! And I’m taking credit!” She yelled back over her shoulder, and waited until she was out of sight of cameras to let the grin show on her lips, chest fluttering with excitement. 

She took down a fucking villain.

If only she didn’t break her hand like a goddamn moron and have that awful bitch threaten her with her own secrets, this would have been… honestly, fun.

Her mind was whirling with ways she could have used her power better, things she could make and do. She was proud of that little trick with the plant, and barely held herself back from actively getting into a frenzy about how she could weaponize that.

Even as she went up to the ambulance and answered questions on autopilot, she was mostly busy thinking of various ways to heal herself, make the process smoother, how to… get around the limits of her power.

She was just defending herself, after all. She was protecting not just her own life, but that of the countless people she would save, eventually, by proxy. So it wasn’t breaking the rules.

The doctor seemed creeped out by her vacant grin as he prodded her broken hand.

Whatever, dude. She was Amy Dallon, no longer just a healer.

And it felt great.

Turns out, she didn’t actually break her hand.

One of her fingers just got violently dislocated from her punch being sloppy as shit, with some cartilage damage to boot.

She hadn’t realized how fucking excruciating dislocations could be. Especially to tight joints like that of her hand.

It took about an hour and a half to walk out of the hospital with her hand in a simple splint she could remake on her own, with the doctor’s verdict being; don’t move it, and wait until it heals.

Wow, such healthcare.

At least they didn’t charge her for it. Another perk of being Amy Dallon, amongst all like… two of them.

Something touched her bandages, and she glanced down, seeing The Creature’s tail scribbling a heart onto the fabric with a stolen marker.

She smiled, wide and free and unrestrained.

Then flinched, because ow.

The stitches on her lip hurt so easily.

And the scratches, too. She was told they would scar. Just very faintly, due to how clean and shallow they were. Practically would have to squint under good lighting to see.

That was kind of a bummer.

And then she spotted a familiar car, and that was a much bigger bummer.

“The villain dropped the gun fiddling with her belt. You didn’t reach for it.” The blonde repeated, slowly, disbelieving.

“Yes!” She repeated, exasperated.

“Don’t get that tone with me.” Carol snapped, taking a left turn.

Amy resisted the urge to scream.

She slammed her door shut, and slumped in relief.

Holy fuck, could she BREATHE without Carol lecturing her!?

She told her everything from “you should have just let the villain pick the gun back up and complied for your own safety” to “I’m letting the Wards take credit for Tattletale for your own safety”.

Not to mention interrogating her incessantly on what she did to the bitch.

Amy lied for all of that, saying she just punched her. The woman distrusted her too much. If she admitted to using her power, she’d stay locked up in the basement for the next year or two.

She was more furious about Tattletale’s arrest being taken from her. She was so proud of that!

Resentment churning in her chest, she fumed in silence for a few minutes on her bed, exhausted beyond belief.

It was late afternoon by now.

“Why can’t this cunt just say ‘I’m proud of you’ for once?” She growled under her breath, exasperated, hurt hand on her chest.

The splint wasn’t even needed, honestly. It was just there to stop her middle finger from moving. It still hurt like a bitch.

A tail patted her head, before a noodly head popped up, snout upturned in a prideful look, followed by a nod and the tail tapping the snake’s own neck.

“Are you trying to say you’re proud of me?” She asked, dryly.

The snake nodded.

She laughed.

“Dumbass. Thank you.” She grinned, then immediately hissed in pain, again. “Fucking hate stitches.”

It was another ten minutes before a storm named Vicky broke into her room, apologetic and worried.

In her worry, she even suggested that they delay the date for her to rest, after she was done asking what the hell happened and why she was even at the bank to begin with.

Tempting as it was, she insisted on getting the date over with.

Postponing chores and unpleasant things for later only ended up with her being paralysed by dread until they came along. She wanted to get it out of the way quickly.

Then, they talked about it.

The bank.

It was the first time in a while that Vicky granted Amy her undivided attention for an hour straight, constantly torn between laughing with her, giving her advice, being worried and apologetic for not being there, or just being so proud of her.

They even had a more… personal talk. About Carol, about why she didn’t come home yesterday after the hospital.

Amy didn’t really… tell her that much, but it was enough to give some of the reasons. A good load off her chest.

Really, Vicky just reinforced the notion she had developed that getting into fights might be a good thing.

Eventually, Vicky went off to go meet Dean, again, so Amy decided to relax in the living room until it was time to sleep, mindlessly watching TV while she cuddled with her pet, scratching all along its back and head while it acted like a warmth leech. 

She really loved the little bastard by now, honestly. Nobody was getting it. It was hers.

Also, it was a very good sidekick for her recent streak of random, impulsive vigilantism.

It even insisted on using a piece of cotton to cover her scratches with Betadine in the bathroom, making the process much easier for her. Not to mention it potentially saving her life today. Definitely saving her secrets.

She just… really appreciated her hissy gal by now. She’d give her the finest of chicken legs and even more snacks for the hoarding pile she was making under the bed that she thought Amy hadn’t noticed yet.

It even woke her up when she fell asleep on the couch, nudging her towards her bedroom, which she complied with, because ow, her back.

Just for that, she made sure to give it as many scritches as it wanted until she passed out again. Cute little demon.

Tomorrow would fucking suck though. Double dates were awful. 

Chapter Text

The date got cancelled.

Before one might cheer, it simply got postponed to about ten days later. 

The joy.

“Amy, why are you taking the damn snake?! Do you want the guy to run?” Vicky exclaimed, frustrated.

Yes, actually.

“No, but if he can’t handle a squiggly leather scarf he’s a bitch and he can’t handle me. Besides, have you seen what happens when I leave her alone and bored?!” She huffed, adjusting the god awful clothes she was wearing.

Vicky claimed she looked comfy, cozy, and high-class.

She felt more like a… chubby librarian loser, but whatever.

Vicky groaned in exasperated defeat, face in her hands. 

The Creature preened, tail tip wiggling in delight.

She tapped the top of its head harshly with a finger in reprimand, scowling.

It regarded her with a faintly stupid look of satisfaction, ignoring her scolding completely.

“You look way too smug about this. Ass.” She grumbled, and tied her last shoelace, throwing the door open before Vicky could complain for the tenth time.

The date getting postponed had been nice, since she had some time to heal the split lip and scratches on her face as well as generally enjoy life with her weirdo pet in general peace, but said week and change went by incredibly quickly for her tastes.

And the day of reckoning had come at last.

Yes, she was going to be dramatic about this.

Dates sucked.

The guy’s name was Jay.

He was perhaps a bit too confident, and a bit too social, but he was… okay?

Amy… didn’t know that people named their kids that. She thought it was a nickname.

The mall was perhaps the safest date in existence, and she was familiar with the horrid routine, so she planned to stick to that as they met up at a cafe.

The problem was that her snake.. . existed? 

She hadn’t planned on The Creature being a part of the date, but it was hard to forget about it when it would tighten up like a noose every time the guy tried to talk to her, or smile at her.

So Amy was stuck there, eye twitching with a fake smile on her face as her throat remained slightly constricted for the entire coffee lunch, trying to swallow her coffee through the odd sensation of caressing, leathery muscle trying to choke her.

Dean… she tried to ignore his existence, honestly, but he looked incredibly uncomfortable, so she was a bit happy about that.

Jay asked her something from his side of the square table, tapping her wrist to get her attention, and she replied on autopilot, something about movies, smiling fakely back.

Ow, ow, ow stop squeezing you dumbass-!

Sneakily, she tried to wedge her fingers between the rippling scales and her neck, to try and pry her Creature off and like… shove her snake into a bag. Or a trashcan.

She’d be fine. Her snake was smart enough to crawl out eventually, right?

Unfortunately, her shitass snake was disgustingly strong.

She gave up when her arm started shaking, trying not to make it too obvious how much she was struggling.

On the bright side, the snake’s presence kept Jay well the fuck away from her, both physically, and socially, because he was too busy acting like a pet snake was a literal alien, asking her a million questions about the thing, obcenely interested in it, rather than her.

That served her just fine. She just wanted this over with.

Somehow, she knew that mixing food and The Creature would be a disaster.

She was proven right.

She lost track of The Disaster for a bit, and as per usual, that resulted in nothing good.

The little demon kept tripping Jay. All the time. Every time.

He spilled water, slammed his hip on the table edge. Spilled a couple fries, which a mysterious black shape snuck off the table, likely eating them with glee in its little black heart.

Amy tried to keep her face still as she slowly died inside.

Eventually, it got back to her neck.

Ah, goodbye breathing. It was fun while it lasted…

Jay really picked up the flirting, at this point, likely assuming her weird behaviour was embarrassment or shyness, which seemed to piss off her weirdo snake even more.

Seriously, what was up with her?

Jay tried to get her to try a fry with a special sauce he got, extending it to her as if planning to hand feed her. Gross.

God, please kill me. This cannot get worse!

Her snake struck at the fry, snatching it out of his hand as he yelped, jumping so hard he knocked his knee on the table.

They watched the snake spit the fry out onto Amy’s tray and hiss loudly at her fake-date, Jay watching in startled bewilderment, Vicky in deadpan ‘I told you so’ amusement, and Dean with concern.

Amy sighed, and picked up the fry, throwing it into her mouth.

Ew, snake spit.

Damn, that sauce was good though.

Now they were all looking at her with blank stares. Even The Creature.

She blinked, shrinking into herself.

“...What?” She asked.

Jay cleared his throat with a forced laugh.

“I think uh- I think your snake has it out for me.” Jay noted, clearly trying to switch the topic.

Amy forced a smile that a cadaver would wince at, eye twitching.

“She’s just… uh. Playful. ” She grit out, pinching The Creature’s tail.

It squirmed away, unrepentant.

The Creature got really cuddly when they got to the ice cream shop.

Like, uncomfortably so. 

The displays of “affection” continued despite her embarrassed squirming.

The Creature kept rubbing its head on Amy’s cheek like an overly affectionate cat, even when she was trying to put a spoonful of ice cream in her mouth, prompting little accidents at least twice.

From the way her overly flirty date was acting, if the snake wasn’t around her neck, he would have tried something painfully cheesy like wiping the mess off her cheek, judging by the considering, hesitant looks he threw at her as he shuffled around in his seat.

“Wow, she’s uh, really affectionate huh? Didn’t know snakes could be like that.” Jay noted, trying to break the silence between them as Dean and Vicky bickered over bullshit at the other side of the table.

“Haha… Yeah.” She said, actually saying ha ha out loud, awkwardly. “She’s like… a very cold, loving scarf. ” She prodded The Creature’s side with a nail, ignoring the low grumble she could feel at the base of her throat.

You little asshole, stop being weird! What’s wrong with you today!?

“She’s growling. ” Vicky deadpanned, cutting away from her conversation with Dean.

Hissing, she almost corrected, before letting it go, navigating around an agitated tail that wiggled around her throat as she tried to eat her goddamn ice cream in peace.

Taylor knocked over a sauce holder, drenching the guy’s potatoes in watery ketchup.

He looked annoyed for a moment. 

Good. Fuck you!

The Dallons and Dean were too busy bickering about something to do with movie taste, so she had free reign to impose her claim, power turned up just enough to be a non-concern to those she wasn’t interacting with.

Slowly, deliberately, she extended her tail, staring at Amy’s date right in the eye as she took a single fry, and ate it, never breaking eye contact with the bewildered teenager.

Back off.

From… from what exactly, she wasn’t sure, but whatever, back off!

Initially, she had been thinking along the lines of goddamnit, why was her snake glued to her?

Then, suspicion came.

The Creature was mad at Jay. 

For what, only god and her freaky noodle knew.

Eventually, it clicked while her snake glared at her laughing date, still nuzzling her cheek.

She stared down at her pet.

“Are you… are you jealous? ” She asked quietly, incredulous.

The Creature flicked its tail in dismissive, defiant denial, huffing in annoyance even as it clung tighter.

Holy shit, her snake was actually acting like a jealous cat.

She wasn't sure if she should laugh or start banging her head on the table.

The movie was… mneh.

Meeeeeeeeeeeeh.

Cape movies got old a decade ago, she didn’t understand how they kept making the same fucking garbage over and over again. She had predicted half the plot five minutes into the movie.

Eventually, after a particularly cringey joke, Jay tried to lean in to tell her something.

The Creature quickly took the opportunity to take over the armrest, blocking him from getting too close.

Jay, with a burst of courage she hadn’t expected, tried to shoo The Creature away.

The Creature hissed, right up until Amy grabbed it by the neck, exasperated, pulling it back onto her lap, strangled whistling leaving the Creature’s neck as it calmed down.

Somewhat. The tail still stubbornly clung onto the armrest, slapping Jay’s hand away, even as its neck wriggled around her closed fist, trying to escape.

Amy gave up, using her free hand to pop a kernel in her mouth.

Just... whatever. At least the popcorn was good.

The popcorn was no longer good.

Largely because the Creature dove into the shared popcorn bucket when she wasn’t paying attention, and due to how large she was, had displaced about a quarter of it onto the floor, spilling it everywhere.

How that hadn't gotten them kicked out yet, she wasn't sure. 

The popcorn was also not good anymore  because nobody but Amy could eat from what was left in the bucket right now, because The Creature was guarding the kernels like a dragon did its hoard, hissing at anyone that tried to take any. Not that anyone tried twice. Eating from a bucket with a snake in it was gross to most people.

Not Amy, but still.

Profound embarrassment was a slight understatement as the night went on. 

In The Creature’s defence, this was honestly one of the least painful dates she’d been on. The horrid little demon kept things… interesting.

Problem was, this was being a bit much.

She leaned down close to the popcorn bucket, glaring down into the white mounds while a fight scene played in the movie. 

“You can’t just claim the whole ass bucket because you’re jealous!” She hiss-whispered. “Get out!”

A triangular black head popped out of the cloud of white fluff.

The Creature shook its head in a sharp, stubborn tempo, hissed, and dove back into the popcorn.

She rested her head on the lip of the bucket, groaning under her breath.

Jay kept trying to put his arm around her.

Classic move, really. Normally it minorly pissed her off and made her uncomfortable.

This time, it embarrassed her, because The Creature kept flicking its tail at his hand every time it tried to sneak across, prompting him to yelp and annoy everyone in the rows above and below.

Amy simply stayed put, her face buried into her hands, dying of mortification.

Oh god, a gross, sappy, out of place kissing scene. Just what every capeshit movie needed.

Jay hesitated for a bit, eyeing her all... weirdly.

Amy side-eyed him back, embarrassed, for much different reasons than he was probably thinking of.

He started to shuffle close, leaning over while Amy internally froze in panic.

What the fuck? What the fuck!

The sharp, triangular head of The Creature popped up mere inches in front of him, pitch black and towering over him, silhouetted by the light of the movie behind it like a cheap horror movie. A flash from the projector light highlighted cross-shaped eyes, wide and trained on him.

He snapped away, leaning all the way back in his seat with a slight gasp of surprised fright.

Slowly, smoothly, the angular head sunk back into the darkness of the seating rows, not breaking eye contact once.

For once, when it crawled back up her neck from inside her sweater, Amy was mildly thankful.

For better or worse, nobody had tried to kiss her out of the blue before, date or not. She might have let him out of pure confused shock. And wouldn’t that be a lame ass way to lose one’s first kiss?

“You are the worst wingwoman in history.” She murmured in astonishment, unsure if it was a compliment or not.

This shit.

Was taking.

Too fucking.

Long.

She had been on this fake, stupid ass, unnecessary, goddamn date for four hours.

And they wanted to go play fucking bowling now. Or at least Vicky kept ‘suggesting’ it, pushing her to do it.

She fucking hated bowling.

She hated these stupid fucking dates.

Even all this embarassment was not a big deal compared to the utter misery it was to sit across from Dean and Vicky being gross together, stabbing her right in the gut with jealousy, while doing shit she didn’t want to be doing, with a person who seemed alright but she didn’t want to be with.

So when she finally broke off from them in the bathroom, did her business, and wordlessly collected The Creature from where it was trying to pry open the medicine cabinet next to the door, she was hit with the distinct feeling of wanting this to be fucking done with.

She stood in place, rubbing her face, trying to find some way out of it, gut full of dread.

By the time she left, her entire fucking day would be gone for this bullshit.

A game of bowling had to be like, one, maybe two hours. And Vicky wanted a fucking sunset walk on the boardway right after! Hell no! This was too much! She wanted to fucking- watch a series she liked! A book! Something for herself, damn it!

Ten minutes of dread-filled indecision passed before something wrapped around her ankle, startling her.

She blinked down at The Creature, who was making insistent “follow me” gestures with its head, glancing off somewhere deeper into the mall, pulling her by the leg with its tail as it instantly tried to drag her away.

… You know what, fuck it. Whatever The Creature had planned would either get her arrested, killed, or she would have fun.

Win-win-win.

Their first pitstop was a… photo booth.

Yes, her fucking pet snake dragged her to a photo booth in the corner of the mall.

Deciding to roll with it, she paid, and got inside.

Apparently The Creature didn’t know that it was automatic, because it kept trying to look around for a button or something, sticking its face right up to the camera, and by the time Amy was tired of snickering at it, the picture roll was almost done.

The picture roll came up, and The Creature eagerly wrapped around her neck to see the result.

The first picture was all snout and tongue, the next couple few were scales blocking half the camera, and the last was when she finally grabbed her slithery kidnapper and ended up with The Creature wrapped around her head like a smug turban.

Amy burst out laughing, a real laugh, rather than the polite chuckle she reserved for stupid date jokes, and felt lighter already.

After about ten minutes of aimlessly wandering, they came upon the central fountain of the mall. 

This resulted in the useless reptile deciding to steal some change from someone’s open wallet then slither back to her, before shoving the coins into her hands. This was promptly followed by headbutting the back of her thighs to push her towards the fountain.

“Wha- stop showing off, people are staring!” She hissed back, hurrying along until she was at the fountain.

The familiar sensation of her personal menace climbing up her leg shook her out of her confused fugue, glancing down at the triangular head of her favorite dumbass.

“What, do you want me to make a wish or something?” She asked, beyond confused.

The snake nodded.

Rolling her eyes at how silly this was, she sighed out a ‘fine’ and got to thinking.

I wish to be happy.

With a soft ‘plink’ sound, the quarter vanished.

The Creature then used its tail to grab the other ten quarters out of her palm, and with great enthusiasm, violently chucked all of them into the fountain like it was pitching a baseball, sprinkling her face with water.

She sputtered for a moment, before covering her mouth to snicker.

“You don’t- your wish isn’t more likely to work by just throwing more c-coins in.” She chuckled, wiping the water off her face.

The Creature nuzzled her face, and she rolled her eyes, turning to peck the top of its head with a small ‘muah’ sound, raising a hand to scritch at its neck, smiling at how incredibly silly all of this was.

She paused when she realized her snake was staring at her, blank-eyed and uncomprehending.

Then it turned and stuffed its head into its own coils, hiding its head like an ostrich.

That was… alright then?

A sudden frantic tapping of a tail on her shoulder had her stopping in her tracks, turning to look where her snake was looking.

Oh… Oh that place looked classy.

She wandered in, feeling vaguely confused at how sudden the switch in decor was from ‘mall hallway’ to ‘balcony cafe but jungle style’.

That was the only way to explain it, really. In a balcony overlooking The Boardwalk outside, was a long deck of wooden slats, pillars covered in fake vines that extended up and over the residents for shade, bits of vines and various flowers forming tarps over comfy assortments of chairs, ranging from thrones with armrests to beanbags to simple wooden library chairs. Every inch of available space where people weren’t walking was stuffed with greenery, natural wooden shelves packed with books, magazines…

It was all plastic plants, yes, but the visual was still very nice.

A soft tune played from an honest to god fucking vinyl player sitting on a giant log in the middle of the tables, and a soft afternoon breeze ruffled the countless plants, bringing in the scent of coffee from the enclosed brewery space just to the right, where waitresses and clients walked in and out of.

Combined with the view of the sea and the Rig, if one squinted, this place was awesome. Much more her speed than those overly busy chaos factories Vicky liked to drag her and her ‘dates’ into. 

A tail wrapped around her arm and tugged her along to the counter as her snake power-wiggled across the floorboards.

She was looking at the menu when she felt her bag shift, and she glanced down only to see The Creature slap her wallet down on the counter with its tail and hiss next to her ear to grab the attention of an employee who startled in shock for a second, before walking over.

“Does, uh… does the snake want a latte?” The barista asked, mildly bewildered and wary, half-joking.

… The Creature was definitely using its power, the guy would have been freaking the fuck out otherwise.

Amy, mortified, covered her eyes, ducking her head down as her cheeks burned. 

“... No, no. She’s buying me one. No sugar, extra condenced milk.” She sighed.

Five minutes later, with a surprisingly neat little collection of horror short stories in her lap, sipping really fucking good coffee, she snuggled deeper into her boa scarf, a small, genuine smile on her face as she melted into the oversized armchair she had claimed in the corner.

Now this was a proper way to waste her goddamn day. Finally.

The Creature read with her, chin peacefully placed on her shoulder, only occasionally using its tail to bring Amy’s coffee cup to her lips without Amy even asking, or hand- tail?-feeding her cookies.

It was bizarrely sweet and thoughtful for a reptile, intelligent or not.

Half an hour later, a thought struck her, and she burst into snickers.

“You know, this feels much more like a date than what I was doing before.” She pointed out, snickering at the absurdity of how her day had gone so far.

Her snake snapped its head to gape at her, literally, jaw hanging open a tiny bit, before it shoved its head into its coils again, tightening around her shoulders.

It clicked.

“Are… are you embarrassed? ” She asked, incredulous.

A loud, ferocious hiss was her answer, the entire body deflating like a noodly balloon as the head remained firmly buried in its own side.

She burst out laughing.

“Oh my god, you are!” She crowed with delight, before bursting out laughing again. 

A waitress came by and told her to quiet down a bit, which she did, but not without bursting into silent giggling fits every half minute that passed without The Creature digging its head out of its own coils.

Chapter Text

Vicky was very unimpressed with her.

“This is the ‘emergency’ you had to leave for, with a text? Really?” Vicky asked, pointedly glancing past her at the decor and the table she just left with three empty coffee cups on it.

Amy shrunk in on herself, just a little, trying to contain both her shame and annoyance at once.

“How else was I supposed to politely get the hell out of dodge?” She grumbled, scritching The Creature’s side while it flicked its tongue at the air next to her cheek, comfy and completely uncaring of Vicky’s ire.

Amy was jealous of her.

Vicky groaned, pushing her hair out of her face.

“By not doing that?! What was it this time?!” Vicky exclaimed, pacing in exasperation. “Were his nails too long? Or were his eyes not purple enough?”

She scowled up at her sister, teeth gritting.

Seemingly encouraged by Amy’s silence, Vicky continued.

“Like, honestly! The guy is hot, tall, he does sports-”

“Oh yeah, all the things I’m looking for!” She snapped sarcastically with a lot more heat in her voice than she intended.

“What the fuck are you looking for?! It's not like you ever even tell me!” Vicky yelled back, eyes wide.

Instead of reeling back from the genuine anger in her sister’s tone, she only felt herself digging her heels in, words that had been swimming in her head for ages creeping up to her tongue with devilish temptation to just say it.

“Victo-” Dean tried to cut in, and was stopped by a single aggressive gesture from Vicky, who didn’t take her angry eyes off of Amy.

Glaring back at her sister for another couple seconds, she shook her head, trying to calm her breathing as she turned away to leave, her fourth cup of coffee crunching in her hand as she squeezed with all her puny might.

Why couldn’t reality have just paused itself for her? Handwaved all the little details away and flashcut to the next morning, like a shitty movie?

She had been enjoying herself, just her and The Creature. But of course not. Vicky had to look for her, had to find her.

“Wow, good talk Amy!” Vicky called at her back as she walked out of the back doors of the mall, “Glad I spent so much time trying to help you out again just for you to walk off without a HINT of effort or ex-”

The words playing hopscotch on the edge of her tongue tripped with a shove of aggrieved fury, and she whirled around, pitching her coffee cup straight at the ground at her own feet, uncaring of the sprinkles of coffee that landed everywhere as the plastic tore and practically exploded.

“HELP ME?!” She half-shrieked, enraged. “Yeah, sure! Because you’re just such a fucking saint ! Can’t even just say it to my face that you want me to stop bothering you!” She yelled, voice high and shrill as she angrily kicked the folded, wet remnants of the broken coffee cup towards her sister. 

Vicky stopped in place, her expression a battle between bewilderment and defensive anger, ignoring the sprinkles of coffee that slid off her forcefield.

“Can’t fucking wait to throw me at the nearest fucker willing to settle for the other Dallon, for fucking what?!” She demanded, nostrils flaring. “Am I that much of an annoyance, asking for us to do something once a week tops, maybe, that you feel the need to do all this shit just to get rid of me?! Glad that your fucking shopping trips with Kayla and your little quickies with rich boy and your random weekly friendships with your bitch ass groupies are just so FUCKING FUN that you don’t need a sister anymore!” She ranted. 

Vicky’s expression settled on defensive anger.

“Oh, like it’s my fault that nobody wants to be with you!” Vicky snapped.

The scalding coals in her chest vanished. The pounding pulse in her ears abruptly flattened, calmed. Every bit of anger in her snuffed out like a candle.

Her eyes welled with tears as she leaned back, swallowing past a lump in her throat. Something raw and inflamed, an open wound, pulsed and clenched deep in her chest as she rapidly blinked, raising a hand to hurriedly wipe at her eyes.

A cool numbness filled her mind.

Any ounce of dignity and self-respect necessary to defend oneself vanished, replaced by abrupt loathing of the most familiar, intimate kind; self directed.

“Oh. O-okay.” She whispered with a nod, voice warbling and eyes downcast as she turned away, walking as fast as she could on legs that felt so weak.

“Amy- Ames, wait, I didn’t mean-” Vicky tried, voice full of regret, far closer.

“Fuck off and go be with someone you want to be with.” She croaked out, low and defeated, voice nasally as she hurriedly sniffled and wiped her eyes on her sleeve, walking off towards the bus stops.

Vicky didn’t say anything else. Didn’t follow.

Somehow, that almost hurt more.

She collapsed onto the bus stop seat, jaw trembling as she wiped at her eyes over and over again, sniffling as she cried silently, shoulders jumping as her breaths quivered, gaze firmly fixed on the cracked tiles of the sidewalk.

Even Vicky knew. Even Vicky could see it, regardless of how little time they spent together the last year and some change.

A familiar sensation crawled up her leg, startling her for a second, and she sniffled again, wiping her eyes to glance down at the blurry dark shape slithering up onto her lap.

Another bit of quick blinking and wiping at her eyes allowed her to see The Creature clearly.

It was covering her lap like a leathery donut, with only its tail raised up to her, a few dandelions jammed into the coil of its tail tip, offered up to her like a bouquet.

A small smile flickered onto her face.

“You left for… f-flowers? Seriously?” She warbled, gingerly taking them and cupping them in her palms, as gently as one would a sculpture made of fine sand that would collapse if one breathed on it a little too hard.

Somehow, it was one of the sweetest things someone- or something- had ever done for her. It was just so… innocent.

She couldn’t help but stare at the tiny bunch of little flowers in her palms, likely plucked off the nearest untrampled sidewalk, a symbol of perseverance and survival in a concrete expanse that drowned out all other life. 

Yet still defiantly vibrant and beautiful, alive.

If only she could be like them.

She traced the petals with a thumb. 

A triangular head slithered up to her palms, and sat its chin upon her thumb, staring up at her with a wordless question.

“I love them. T-thank you.” She sniffled, allowing her vision to blur again, unwilling to move her hands from where they sat.

She could still see the Creature's tail tip wiggling like a wagging tail, and smiled again, even through the tears.

Taking the bus in Brockton, at night, was definitely not a great choice, but for some reason or another, the gangs largely left it alone, so it wasn’t too bad.

That didn’t mean the gangs didn’t use the bus though, to her current dissatisfaction.

On the other end of the empty bus, she could spy a small group of people of varying races huddled together in the corner, speaking animatedly with each other.

Some might say she was a bit premature in her assessment. Just because a diverse group of hobo-looking people were taking the bus didn’t mean anything.

Those who said that were not Brocktonites.

One could spot a gangster like a hawk if they lived in this shithole their whole life. They all talked, walked, and emoted a certain way, and it wasn’t hard to notice those characteristics all bunched together in a package of a group of dirty people that looked like their breakfast was heroin.

Her gut and logic both told her Merchants.

Despite her recent streak of vigilantism, she was mostly just fucking scared. There was just one old man next to her, and there were five of the fuckers in the same confined space as she was. She did not feel safe in the slightest. This sucked.

A tap on her wrist made her turn her head back to the Creature, and her own palms, still cradling the flowers.

The Creature glanced from her, to the group at the other side of the bus, and jerked its head to them in a questioning manner.

“... Want to spy on them?” She offered tiredly.

Personally, she didn’t give a shit.

The snake nodded, and then Amy blinked at her empty lap, wondering what she had just been doing.

Five minutes later, she remembered the Creature in a vague, distant “oh that hissy girl of mine exists”, followed by said Creature slithering up her legs and into her bag, rifling around it while she watched in unamused helplessness.

Finally, Amy’s newly bought phone was fished out and pushed towards her hand, and she reluctantly took it, clumsily holding it with her recently-dislocated finger still in its awkward splint.

She really had to start on self-healing methods or something, this shit was annoying her.

At least her lip didn’t hurt anymore.

After unlocking the phone, she presented it to The Creature, who used its snout to maneuver around, tapping around with great confusion and hesitance.

At least her snake wasn’t familiar with using a phone, or Amy would have started asking more pointed questions of the universe.

Five minutes of tapping later, a tail pushed the phone back to her, and Amy glanced at it before stiffening.

Her eyes snapped to The Creature.

“You can type.” She said, vaguely confused. “Why didn’t I think of that? Holy shit, we can talk. ” Amy breathed out, all of a sudden filled to the brim with curiosity.

She was about to push the phone into the Creature’s tail again, before she realized it had already written something.

“ Dealer meeting” coming up in an hour. “Old gas station in the docks”. Want to hunt?

Amy stared.

“Why do you type all properly? ” She wondered, before shaking her head in bafflement.

The Creature stared, slowly flicking its tongue.

An hour…

Maybe this would be better than moping around at home for a few hours until she finally fell asleep.

“... Yeah alright, let’s go for it.” She whispered, before frowning. “I should probably have a mask.”

The Creature tapped itself, before hurriedly slithering up to her shoulders, and settling its body to wrap around her neck, up to her nose.

A leather mask.

“This is so fucking stupid.” She whispered into scales that sat against her lips, then sighed.

The Creature squirmed.

“... Are you ticklish?” She asked, curious.

A tail tip lightly slapped her shoulder, and she shut up.

Time to follow some junkies into the docks…

Surely, that never ended badly.

The dealer meeting was a lot… less than she expected.

There was only one gas station in the docks, long since abandoned, so it wasn’t hard to take a couple detours and walk the rest of the way there.

She had expected, like… some council of dealers, or something? Maybe a gang meeting?

Instead, it was literally just some guy standing behind the gas station, looking around, waiting for clients.

Still, it was kind of nice to sit in such an odd place. She’d never sneaked onto a gas station rooftop before. 

Swinging her legs, she idly watched the guy pace around below in the absolute darkness, not concerned with being seen. Not even the street lamps worked this far out, or at least most of them. It was pitch black. Quiet.

A client finally came up, one of the junkies in the bus, she would guess.

Amy idly took a video with a small handheld camera she bought on the way here, her phone stashed away near the bus stop.

Proof was… probably good to have? Whatever.

Her heart really wasn’t in it tonight.

Nerves still raced up and down her spine, however. It was hard not to be on edge. This was dangerous.

Eventually, the client left, so Amy went around the side, climbed down the ladder, and tried to still her nervous shaking.

“You’ve got my back, ri-right?” She whispered into the empty air.

A triangular head swung in front of her with a sharp nod, before ducking down into the darkness again.

Before she could hesitate and rethink this, she walked out with a determined gait she did not feel in the slightest.

The dealer saw her immediately, and his loose stance stiffened, turning towards her.

“Ay. You need something?” He called out, tense.

She swallowed.

“Y-yeah. Whatever you’ve got. N-need to uh, take the edge off.” She nervously half-stuttered, trying not to hunch in on herself as she approached.

“Uh-huh. How old are you?” He asked suspiciously, and she panicked for a second.

“What- what does that matter?” She asked, voice pitching higher with panic as she slowed.

“Fifteen or sum’?” He guessed, almost to himself, relaxing somewhat. “Just making sure, sweetcheecks. I don’t know you, but pigs don’t use kids, so I’m down to give you some sugar. How’d you know I’d be here?” He drawled.

… What the fuck was he even saying?

She nervously nodded.

“Oh yeah, makes sense. Uh, talked to some guys who knew some other guys in the bus, you know? S-so, how much can this get me?” She asked, nervously taking out a small wad of cash as she approached, thirty feet turning to twenty.

“Those fivers?” He asked, nodding to the bundle.

“What?” She asked, swallowing hard, fighting through her rising nerves and growing sense of regret.

This was so fucking stupid. She was going to get herself killed.

“Are those fucking twenties or smaller bills?” He asked, impatient, his hooded silhouette shifting as his hands stayed in his pockets.

“Twenties.” She confirmed.

“Shieeeeet, ‘aight. We can get you some good shit with that.” He said, casually walking up to her until he was, all of a sudden, right in front of her.

He was so much taller than her. Fuck, why were they always taller!?

He casually went to take the money out of her hand.

His skin touched hers, and he dropped like a sack of potatoes as she exploded out a breath of released tension, firmly holding onto his wrist. 

“Holy fuck. I can’t believe that worked.” She breathed out to herself, panting from sheer relief, hurriedly dragging the guy onto his back as she kept him locked in place, blind and deaf and paralyzed. “Creature?” She asked.

A small hiss by her foot made her startle.

She swallowed.

“Okay, so… first, we threaten him with you, then, if he doesn’t talk, I start hitting him with pain.” She said, more for the sake of stalling than a need to remind either of them.

The Creature huffed in agreement.

She let his senses fade back in, straining her eyes to watch The Creature rear up in the guy’s face, mouth wide open and hissing.

He tried to scream, and she cut that short too, not wanting to draw attention.

Maybe this wouldn’t be so hard after all.

Nevermind, that was surprisingly easy.

Good. She was already wired to fuck after today’s- everything, so she really did not want to start using her power to make the guy rat out what he knew.

It took less than a minute for the guy to start blabbering like a baby about to start crying, straining his neck to get as far away from The Creature as he could get as she barked questions at him.

By the end of it, he had told her everything except his damn social security number, terrified to death of the dark, slithering shape sniffing and hissing around his ears.

Amy had locations, names, clients… damn, she had to write this shit down before she forgot.

Eventually, she knocked him out with her power, tied him up, and called the police, using her shirt to muffle her voice while she tried to deepen it as well.

Ejecting the memory card from her camera, she put it into a tiny little napkin, and put it next to the guy’s head.

Proof for when the cops got here.

As she quickly ran away, she couldn’t help the grin that took over her face, exhilaration and relief finally unclenching the everpresent fist that had tightened around her chest.

“Holy shit, we’re doing stuff.” She let out in a breathless giggle, glancing to the side at the Creature, who was… holding a paper bag in its tail, even as it got comfy around her shoulders.

“What is that?” She asked, immediately suspicious.

The Creature extended the bag to her, and she curiously took it, frowning at how heavy and rigid the insides were.

She peered inside, and stopped cold for a moment before turning furious eyes at her partner in cri- in justice.

“Where did you get a fucking switchblade?!” She whisper-shouted, bewildered. “I lost track of you for like thirty seconds! Why do you even have it!?”

The snake hissed, moving to grab the bag.

She moved it away, and it quickly followed, and they quickly devolved into a light struggle session of mutual annoyance.

“What is it with you and knives?!” She growled, stumbling down an alley while she tried to peel The Creature’s tail off the bag, to little success.

This was such horseshit.

Why was her snake such a fucking maniac?!

“And you were at this bus stop for two whole hours.” Carol blandly snarked.

“Yep.” She replied, stone-faced.

“I don’t believe you.” Carol said, simply.

“How unfortunate.” She replied, tiredly.

“... Maybe one day, you will realize how childish and selfish you are being. Today doesn’t seem to be that day. Go to your room until tomorrow. You have martial arts lessons tomorrow after school, and motorcycle licence training right after. Vicky will take you.” Carol simply informed her.

Ah, so that was the punishment. An unreasonably exhausting and painful schedule.

She raised her hand, one of her fingers still in a splint.

“Am I supposed to do either of those with this on my hand?” She asked, trying to contain her frustration.

“Figure it out, since you’re so independent these days.” Carol told her, and began to rifle through some legal documents, ignoring her.

I really hate you, you know that?

She walked off upstairs.

The Creature politely stared at a wall while she changed clothes, something which was really, really weird, honestly, because what did a snake care about human nudity, and then she went to shower.

The rest of the night was largely uneventful.

She played a game of Monopoly with The Creature, ignored her homework, and after discovering that it was a horrid little demon even in board games, it was time for bed.

Then she remembered something as she glanced at her notes app.

“I’m letting it go for today, but tomorrow, we’re going to talk. Got it?” She informed her prisoner, who flicked her tongue at her, and with a sassy huff, nodded. “Okay. Go to sleep now.” She grumbled, and shifted to lay on her side. “Goodnight.” She murmured.

The creature cuddled up to her, laying its head on her neck and curling up in her arms, which she allowed, for once.

It deserved some concessions for how much it was supporting her, lately…

And that was all that should have happened. She should have woken up tomorrow, grumpy, annoyed to shit, and gone off to school and continued with her new life, and new routine, plotting on what to do with the information she got out of that drug dealer whenever she got a few hours at night to do whatever she wished.

Unfortunately, she was woken up by the sudden sensation of weight pressing down on her, her power flickering with new sight.

She woke up slowly, despite this, a confused grunt leaving her as she moved her head, her chin and mouth brushing against- fur?

Her power was active, but her brain wasn’t, wondering where she even was.

Maybe that was why it took her a couple seconds to realize her left hand was no longer draped over a thick, long boa, but rather, over a lithe, muscular, and very naked waist, a thin layer of fat covering rippling muscle that felt oddly familiar in her hands, even if it was biologically nothing alike.

She froze, all signs of sleep eviscerated as her eyes snapped open, almost bulging out of their sockets as she slowly turned her gaze down to stare at the black mane of hair tucked into her neck, soft breaths washing over her collarbone.

Her hand twitched, gently squeezing on soft, smooth skin, pure shock keeping her frozen for another long, single second.

Then the screaming started.

Chapter Text

Amy screamed, a disbelieving panic obliterating thoughts into a vague mush of what the fuck as she pushed the girl away.

The stranger jerked awake with a half-panicked scream of her own as she flailed for something to grab right as she tipped over and off the bed.

Unfortunately for Amy, the nearest thing was  her. 

There was the sound of tearing cloth as Amy squealed, pulled of her own bed, and she landed on the floor on her shoulder, the sight of her own blanket falling over both of them being the last thing she saw for several moments as she flailed and kicked to get away from this random fucking weirdo, who for some reason refused to let her go, chanting ‘wait wait wait Amy calm down’ and like hell!

“FUCK, STOP PULLING!” She shouted, frustrated, trying to scramble out of the blanket only for the girl to pull it out from under her, their limbs tangling as Amy tried to kick at her, and only managed to tie their legs in knots of silk and skin as the girl, understandably, refused to let go of the blanket.   

“It’s me, stop panicking, I didn’t know I could change back!” The other squawked, almost more panicked than Amy somehow, and what the fuck was she talking about?!

Unfortunately, the blanket acted more like a net, as it got between them and the floor as they rolled, and covered them from above just to add to the confusion.

There was a short moment of freedom as Amy’s head popped out of the tangle of the blanket, back onto the glorious moonlight of midnight, and then Amy finally had enough, and used the thigh her shin was wedged against to paralyze the intruder.

And because of fucking course, the moment the girl relaxed, she fell on top of her like a sack of rocks, covered up to her shoulder blades by the blanket, chin directly impacting Amy’s solar plexus while the rest of her head directly impacted her fucking tits.  

Fuck, that hurt so bad!

Her breath driven from her chest with a sharp wheeze from the sheer impact, Amy lay on her back on the floor, gasping and coughing, groaning and moaning loudly in pain as she tried to gather her bearings and squirm away from where an elbow was digging into her stomach. 

And then the door slammed open so hard it bounced off the wall.

Victoria, rudely awakened, wasn’t sure what to expect in her sister’s room. 

She heard shouts and muffled screams, a lot of groaning, cuss words, and things impacting other things, so she had assumed an intruder was in her sister’s room.

So she yanked the door open, fraught with worry, ready to fight, and froze in the doorway like a deer in headlights as her eyes took in the scene. 

Said scene consisted of her sister laying on her back on the floor, panting like a dog, half-tangled in a blanket, while a clearly naked girl lay on top of her only half-covered by said blanked, completely limp and equally breathless, using Amy’s bra like a pillow, Amy's shirt torn open.

There were other details, like the way Amy was squirming and shifting, even now, as she regarded her with a half-panicked, wide eyed stare, but Victoria tried very hard not to notice them or anything further.

Amy quickly bucked to the side, pushing the girl off of her and out of Victoria’s sight, quite rudely so she might add, and raised a panicked hand towards her, as if about to tell her to stop, or that this wasn’t what it looked like.

Victoria took initiative by doing the  proper thing. 

Which was running away.

“Fuck, shit, sorry, my bad!” She rushed out, a lot more high-pitched than she thought her voice could even go, and ducked out of the room, yanking the door shut behind her with a quick slam, wide eyed.

After a moment of internal panic, she heard another groan, and felt her face ignite in a furious blush, so she turned and zipped down the hall to her room, trying to erase that whole image from her brain as her mind whirled around a new realization.

Holy fuck.

Her sister was gay? Her sister was gay!

Her sister had a secret fucking girlfriend! No wonder she hated all the dates!

She heard the door to her parent’s room open, and froze.

Shit, cover time!

Maybe Amy would owe her enough for this to forgive her for being an ass yesterday.

Amy stared, baffled, then face-palmed with an exasperated groan at her now-closed door, then whirled around when she felt the blanket shift, realizing that she had completely let go of the stranger.

Quickly, she scrambled backwards, glaring at the furiously blushing teen as she hugged the blanket to her chest.

For a moment, there was a mutual peace between them as they panted for breath. She didn’t let it last, brows furrowed in fury.

Why- why did her eyes look so familiar?

“Who the fuck are you?! How did you get-?!” She started, sharp and angry, pointing at the stranger with an accusing finger.

A crisp pop sounded out, and the girl vanished, the blanket dropping to the floor.

Amy froze, mouth agape, staring.

The blanket moved, and her eyes widened as a familiar black head popped out at the edge.

Another pop, and the blanket shot up, quickly settling down on the black hair teen, who was staring at her hand in astonishment, chest down on the floor, other arm wrapped around her chest.

Amy’s brain short-circuited.

“Oh my god, I can change now.” The girl breathed out in wonder, followed by a beaming smile, directed at her, eyes sparkling, full of trust. Like she knew her.

Just- Wehg? Whahuh? Wharr???

Amy’s mouth flapped up and down, finger still pointing.

“Guh-girl?” She squeaked out, finally, in a mixture of emotions so bizarre she wasn’t sure they could be labeled. “Girl.” She repeated, pointing harder, finger shaking.

Girl. Not snake. Snake? 

Was she having a stroke? 

“Whe- where is my snake?” She asked with a wavering voice full of fear, some part of her refusing to believe what was in front of her, a fist clenched tight around her heart.

Because- because she verified, not once, but twice. This couldn’t possibly…

The girl’s face fell, and she quickly glanced around, before pushing herself off the floor, dragging the blanket with her as she reached for the nightstand.

Slowly, the girl took something from it, and brought it into her blanketed cocoon, before rising up into a slow crouch, approaching her like one would a wounded animal.

Amy’s heart was trying to rabbit out of her chest, it felt like, as her pointed finger slowly dropped into her lap.

A slow, nervous smile spread on the girl’s face as she approached.

“Hi.” The girl breathed out, almost in wonder, a soft half-laugh huffed out of her chest. “Hi, Amy. I’m- sorry this took so long.” The girl said, quietly, genuinely, looking at her like a friend, like even more.

Amy swallowed.

This- this was bullshit. This wasn’t… This didn’t make any sense, she asked…

Even through her own denials, she didn’t stop the girl from shuffling closer and closer, until she was on her knees next to her, a mere foot or two away, eye to eye with her.  

And Amy didn't grab her, did not push her. She just sat, her back against the dresser, and stared at that green mix of hues that she knew by heart. 

She felt- overwhelmed. Numb.

Even the way the girl moved, the way she  stalked,  was familiar. 

And yet something in her mind refused to name where it was familiar from.

Until the teen extended a hand from her cocoon of blanket, and slowly unfurled her hand to show a little bundle of dandelions, half-withered, offering it to her.

Everything clicked like the snap of a locket.

“C-Creature.” She whispered, numbly.

An amused smile spread on that odd, enchanting face in the darkness.

“I prefer Taylor, actually. Hi.” The- Taylor whispered.

Amy slowly accepted the flowers, and with them, what was in front of her, eyes glazed over in numb shock.

So many consequences, memories, actions and little things made sense all of a sudden. So many more questions raised.

Amy stiffened in horror, eyes widening.

“You- you've seen me change clothes.” She murmured, shrinking in on herself. “I- I called you a noodle. I- we’ve slept together. I scratched your chin. I kissed your head .” She whimpered in complete mortification, almost in horror, watching Taylor’s face glow more and more crimson in the moonlight as she averted her gaze.

Amy buried her face in her hands.

“You were a person all along?” She asked, a betrayed anger rising to the surface. “How did you- how did you lie to my power?” She demanded, raising her head to glare at The C- Taylor, to glare at Taylor.

Taylor recoiled, a mixture of guilt and concern on her face.

“No! No, I didn’t lie!” Taylor insisted.

She tossed those stupid dandelions aside, teeth gritting.

“I asked you, twice!” She snapped, feeling strangely- violated, stupid . Betrayed.

“No, you asked me if I could change back! Then you asked me if I was a puppet! You never asked me if I was a person! I thought you knew I was a person for a while! And I just learned how to turn back now, by accident! I got my power the day you grabbed me in the hospital!” Taylor pressed, and she-

She…

Her mouth opened, closed, as she thought back.

Oh… Wait, she hadn’t  actually just…  asked ‘hey are you a person’. 

Why was this making sense?

There was no way this entire thing was miscommunication, right? That was- she wasn't that fucking stupid, right!?

“That- you still could have told me! ” She snapped, disbelieving at how the fuck this happened.

“I didn’t exactly make any effort to act like a snake ! At all! From the start! And then you asked if I could change back, I said no, and because of that, I thought you knew I was a person until we beat that guy in the alley and you called me your pet, and then I felt so bad I was scared of telling you!” Taylor whisper-shouted, not angry, but pleading, basically ranting faster than Amy's brain could keep up with. 

For a moment, she floundered, parsing through the sequence of events, and to her dismay... 

Fuck, she was  right.  Taylor was right.

The actual source of her distress seemed to come to her, in a flash.

“Do- do you even- I don’t know you.” She breathed out, in horror, tears rushing to her eyes. “I don’t know who you are.” She breathed out. “You know me, but I don’t know you. ”

In some bizarre way, she felt like she had just lost her best friend, her only friend. The Creature didn’t exist. She had been wrong the entire time.

Taylor’s expression grew pained, but still, she leaned closer, their faces inches from each other, olive hues burrowing into muddy brown.

With the Creature, she was used to it, their noses practically touching at all times.

With Taylor? It felt all weird and intimate, all of a sudden. Too close.

But some part of her wanted that closeness back regardless, so she did not recoil despite her inner squirming.

“We can- we can fix that, you know? Start over.” Taylor suggested, her breaths washing over Amy's lips, almost begging. “I don’t- I don’t want to lose you because of this- this stupid misunderstanding.” Taylor pushed, extending a hand to her out of her cocoon of blankets. A show of trust.

Even after she’d just paralyzed her, after knowing all her dark thoughts and desires, Taylor did not seem to fear her at all.

Amy gently took that hand with barely a moment of hesitation, unable to turn it away.

She… she could honestly say she had come to love The Creature, as a friend, a confidant. A support she desperately needed, some days, even if on other days, it was purely a being of chaotic problems.

There was a strange mental disconnect in her mind, between the snake and Taylor. She wanted to bridge that gap.

She didn’t want to lose Taylor any more than Taylor seemed to want to lose Amy.

Nobody else had stood by her side and supported her at her weakest like this, ever. Nobody had given her stupid little flowers when she was feeling so incredibly alone, nobody had supported her so much and risked their life merely on Amy's stupid vigilantic whims, nobody had ever listened to her, not like this, not so much.

The Creature had done all that.

Taylor had done all that.

And no matter how much her mind was confused about it, they were one and the same. 

So Amy slowly nodded, trying to wrap her head around the immeasurable consequences of- of this, staring into familiar, nervous eyes, curled with a strained smile.

The Creature wasn’t some unbound little beast that decided it liked her.

The Creature had been a teenage girl.

A person with their own fears, desires, feelings and secrets.

A human, with human sensibilities. 

Oh, fuck, wait a second.

“You kn-know about Vicky. My- problem, with her. Doesn't that…” She trailed off, voice small as she averted her eyes, too afraid to vocalize how disgusted Taylor should be in the fear that speaking it out loud might make her realize it and change opinion, recoil, leave her behind like everyone else.

Fuck, why did she remind her? She was so fucking stupid. She was going to lose Taylor before she even got to know her, again, why was she such a stupid f-

“I don't care.” Taylor simply said, and Amy gaze's jerked back to her, staring with blank incomprehension.

“W-what?” She breathed out, disbelieving.

Taylor smiled again, a wide expressive thing that had Amy feeling weirdly hypnotized as she stared. A wide mouth, like The Creature's. An expressive one, unlike the Creature's. 

She felt vaguely like she was dreaming. This was just too... too much.

“Amy, do you remember?” Taylor gently asked. “You didn’t choose to be this way. And you haven’t done anything. So… I accept you. It’s fine with me. I’m… not perfect either.” Taylor admitted, a wince of shame on her face as she gestured around, likely referencing their current situation.

Taylor… Taylor wasn’t lying. She could see it. She had said nothing but the truth. The only emotion she could read from her power was a lot of nerves, a hidden fear of rejection told in a racing pulse and jerking breaths.

Amy blinked rapidly, almost feeling like she was floating, eyes burning.

She told herself those words all the time, a vain attempt to make herself feel better. She didn’t choose this, and wouldn’t do anything about her perversion.

Never had she expected anyone else to say them, to believe them. To stare at her with anything but murderous disgust, once they knew.

But only in her most shamefully private fantasies had she ever entertained acceptance. It was such an unimaginable relief, to have that part of herself not only not be a secret, but to have it accepted.

Tears of something much too warm and fuzzy to be called merely ‘joy’ pooled in her eyes as she bit her tongue, paralyzed with emotions she didn’t know what to do with, ducking her head in shame. 

She might have lost the concept of The Creature, but she got something much more meaningful.

A real, human friend, who accepted her. Who could truly relate, to her, the human experience, the moral questions that tormented her, and despite it all, wanted her.

“You’re not a bad person, and- and in fact, I would really, really like to continue to be your friend- if you want to. You’re- selfless, you’re funny, you’re loyal, you’re cu- uhm, I mean-” Taylor continued, until Amy couldn’t take it anymore.

She closed the small gap between them, her face meeting the blanket covering Taylor’s collarbone as she kind of just- fell forward with a small, weak sob, not daring to do anything more.

Taylor yelped a little in surprise, hurriedly catching her.

“Thahnk- thank you. Tha- thank you, thank yhou.” She babbled, sobbing into her own blanket as a half-panicking Taylor hugged her close, scrambling with doing that while keeping the blanket from falling.

Taylor hugged her quite nicely in her snake form.

But human arms were just so much warmer, softer, so much more articulate as they rubbed the naked skin of her shoulders, pat her back for comfort.

Maybe this wasn’t the ending of something, but the beginning of something new.

She’d get back to that idea when she could do something more meaningful than cry and clutch her useless reptile turned human plushie. 

Taylor hadn’t quite realized how strong of an effect some simple words would have on Amy.

It took more than five minutes for the healer to try and push herself back into a sitting position, rather than being half-slumped over her, and even as Taylor helped her up, she looked at her with a vaguely dazed, lost look as she sat all alone on the cold floor, as if unsure of where to go from here, eyes red and blotchy, snot hastily being wiped by stained sleeves.

She assumed those were happy tears, or something close to it, so she couldn’t help the small smile that flit to her face. 

But, she was still fucking naked. 

Amy stared incessantly, but said nothing as she hurriedly got up to open her closet and quickly stole some clothes, blushing red.

Then she stood there, Amy still on the floor, staring at her.

“C-can you turn around for a bit?” She shyly asked, and Amy blinked, before she startled, and hurriedly nodded, turning away.

She paused.

“D-do you want a new shirt, I kind of… tore yours.” She quietly offered, trying to vanquish the images and- sensations of Amy’s cleavage from her mind to little avail.

Her face had been kind of... in there. Almost.

Gosh, her face was burning. This was going to be so much harder without the stoic lack of reactions inherent to being a reptile.

Amy cleared her throat. “Y-yeah, sure.”

She quickly got dressed, grabbing Amy’s baggiest clothes, which were, coincidentally, pajamas, because anything tighter would be too short for her long, gangly limbs to be covered by, and she was in no mood to exhibit her body further.

Thank Scion that it was so dark. Hopefully Amy didn’t see anything too ehm, private.

Cringing at herself as she adjusted her new clothes under the blanket, she finally got rid of her covering, and quickly half-crouched over to Amy, giving her a new shirt.

Amy shamelessly took it, then immediately yanked her ruined shirt off.

Needless to say, Taylor might have choked on air a bit as she zipped her head around to stare at a wall.

Then her gaze lowered onto Amy’s bed, and she perked up as a thought came to her.

Candy.

Candy made everything better. Almost always.

She quickly dropped to her knees, and started squirming under Amy’s bed.

Quickly realizing this was not the right form for this job, she prayed that her stupid clothes would stay on this time, and pulled that strange mental muscle she hadn’t felt until just minutes ago.

The sudden shift was incredibly disorienting, but at least no cloud of empty clothes fell on top of her as she landed on the floor from a couple inches up with a solid little thump.

Quickly slithering into her hoarding pile of treats, she was glad she finally had a reason to actually use them.

“Are you… raiding your hoard? Why?” Amy asked.

She paused.

Amy knew about her secret hoard?

Damn it. She’d have to move it now. 

Regardless, she quickly gathered random bits of snacks she had accrued over a short career of theft from vending machines, which should barely be considered theft because those prices were stealing far more than she ever would, and quickly grouped together the most tooth-rotting, sweet, syrupy trash she could see into a small pile, and pushed them out from under the bed.

“... You are such a dumbass.” Amy whispered, almost in awe.

She huffed loudly, offended, and quickly pushed another couple crunchier bits out, before crossing her fingers- mentally, and pulling on that mental muscle again.

Quickly wheezing from how tight the space was, she at least confirmed that the clothes stayed this time, and thus switched back to being a snake and slithered out from under Amy’s bed.

This time, she popped back in standing upright, to her honest surprise, blinking rapidly down at Amy who was staring at her like a confused raccoon in that baggy hoodie, complete with small bags under her red-rimmed eyes.

She quickly gathered the candy into her arms, and hurried over to Amy’s side, sitting next to her with her back against Amy’s dresser, shoulders touching.

To her great joy, Amy did not seem to mind the closeness, still staring at her in confusion.

“Pick.” She breathed out, smiling, vibrating with joy.

Amy blinked, then hesitantly picked a pack of Gummos.

Taylor smiled at her, and Amy shot her a slightly flustered, confused look as she tore her pack open, sniffling hurriedly.

She couldn’t believe that her wish had come true.

Obviously, it didn’t actually happen because of that stupid mall fountain, that was a coincidence, but she thanked it mentally nonetheless.

She could finally connect properly with Amy. Comfort her better than a snake could. Hug her properly. Talk!

Being a snake had been amazing, and she still loved it, but she realized that she had so much to say to her new friend and would either have to never say it, or have to type it out, painfully, slowly, just last night. 

Maybe that was why she had changed. For the first time yesterday, she had actually wanted to be a human again. That had to be it, right?

Taylor chose a small pack of mini-marshmellows, pushing the rest aside.

“Taylor?” Amy whispered hesitantly, and she paused, giving Amy her undivided attention.

“Yes? What is it?”

Slowly, Amy turned to meet her eyes.

There was no wariness left in them, no fear, just a genuine curiosity, a strange desperation for answers.

The way the moonlight reflected off the floor, off her eyes, was utterly enchanting. With the freckles on her cheeks, she was pretty sure Amy could pass as an alien night sky, a moon and its stars printed on with pale browns and creamy tones.

Taylor was half-sure she’d answer, no matter what the question was.

“Who are you?” Amy asked.

And Taylor answered.

Amy simply listened.

Taylor didn’t leave much detail out of anything, and even so, time flew.  

She told Amy about her family, her friends, gained and lost. Her schooltime miseries, some of which made Amy’s chest tight with pulsing anger, because what the fuck was wrong with people.

Her trigger event, not that Taylor knew its significance, it seemed.

She was far too interested in Taylor to start talking about cape bullshit, so she left it for later. 

Taylor told her of her hobbies, whatever few they were. Mostly reading books, a rather traditional interest in board games which hadn’t yet faded. No social media or online usage, surprisingly, which made sense considering how her mother had passed.

Bit by bit, Amy learned… not who Taylor was, that would take a bit more time. But she learned her history.

And eventually, she asked what had been on her mind the whole time. Her feelings.

“Weren’t you scared?” She asked, softly, her head resting on Taylor’s, which rested on her shoulder, a strange mix of tiredness and confused familiarity allowing her to roll with it. “Lonely?”

The clock blinked in the corner, 3:14 AM, and Amy ignored it.

“I mean, you woke up in a hospital, full of strangers, with nobody by your side. Then I just took you with me. I keep remembering how you kept trying to escape, and I just-” She started, voice growing smaller with guilt.

A hand gripped hers, and she stopped, staring down at it as Taylor wove their fingers together.

“At first, a little bit of both.” Taylor breathed out. “But… it’s good you didn’t let me go. I was being stupid. And I… quickly realized I was in good hands, you know? I trusted you. That’s why I stayed, after a bit. I felt safe with you. Still do. In fact, I don't really... want to go home, even now. I want to be here with you. As for being lonely… w-well, you know…” Taylor shifted, seemingly embarrassed. “I’m- starting to think I might have had ulterior motives in trying to sleep in the same bed. Not sure yet.” Taylor murmured, before clearing her throat, face flushed pink.

Amy snorted, smiling, eyes drooping shut, then flying open as she realized she was falling asleep, blinking rapidly.

“You can stay.” She murmured impulsively. “I’m not g’nna make you sleep on the floor.” She reasoned, still staring at their joined hands.

Despite falling asleep with her eyes open, she couldn’t help but note how strangely… close Taylor kept being. She wasn’t sure what to make of it, but she knew that it was definitely making her stomach do all sorts of weird things .

“... Really? Are you sure?” Taylor asked, hopeful but concerned. “I can-”

Amy shook her head.

“I’ve- unknowingly been cuddling with you for ages, at this point, so this really isn’t… new or- too much, really. Just don’t- hog the blanket? Or sleep naked?” She nervously muttered, the idea somewhere between making her apprehensive and- maybe eager? She couldn’t even tell. 

Because friend or not, it was at least a little weird to have a pretty girl in your bed, okay? Even if Amy could barely see her face in the darkness, her power had filled in the gaps. 

“... Thank you, Amy. For everything, I mean. Helping me, taking care of me… not screaming at me and kicking me out just now…” Taylor whispered, before throwing another piece of candy into her mouth. “I owe you. Man, I missed having a friend.” Taylor sighed, wistfully.

“I never had one. A real one.” She confessed, and squeezed Taylor’s hand. “Too many secrets, too many complications… too many powers and dangers. Too much Carol.” She whispered.

Taylor tapped the back of her hand with a finger.

“Well, you’ve got me now. And unless you kick me out, I’m not going anywhere. Fuck Carol.” Taylor whispered sleepily, closing her eyes.

Amy snickered, for the first time that night.

Things would be alright. Scary, and new, and awkward, but she felt like they would be alright.

After all, for the first time in her life, she felt like she finally had someone who wanted to be with her, Amy Dallon, the real Amy Dallon, hidden behind a thousand layers of lies and deception and PR friendly fiction.

And Vicky could eat shit, because she was wrong.

Chapter Text

“... I can go back to snake form if it helps?” Taylor offered quietly, face probably as red as her own as their backs remained glued to each other to not fall off Amy’s bed.

In hindsight, she really should not have told Taylor that she wouldn’t let her sleep on the floor.

Her bed was just a small single. They literally didn’t fit on it without touching each other in some way or another.

“Please.” She mumbled, covering her eyes, exhausted. She could not sleep with Taylor’s butt pressing against her own, she was going to go crazy.

With a slight bounce as weight abruptly vanished from her bed, she finally relaxed.

“Talk t’morrow.” She mumbled, turning over to get comfy, feeling the sheets shift as the- as Taylor shifted around to get comfy.

She startled a little when a familiar weight pressed against her side.

She was about to ask what she was doing before remembering the slight detail of snakes being coldblooded.

“Are you cold?” She asked, just to confirm.

A short huff she interpreted as ‘yes’ came from under the blanket, and so, she gave up, settling in to sleep.

She was out like a light in seconds.

“Amy. Amy, wake up.” A cold, demanding voice evenly ordered, and she immediately startled awake, blinking blearily up at Carol, who was standing directly over her bed.

What the fuck?

“Language.” Carol snapped, and she barely realized she spoke out loud before the woman barged onwards. “You and your- friend, come downstairs for breakfast. You already slept through one alarm, you’ll be late. We’re going to have a talk about propriety tonight. Be down in twenty minutes max, both of you.” Carol emphasized, before turning and stomping off.

Amy blinked after her, slowly, trying to process her words.

Fuuuuuuck, she was so comfy and warm and tired, she didn’t wanna get up!

She sighed, and shifted, only to pause in bewilderment as she felt warm pillars of flesh tighten around her with a small, sleepy mumble that was weirdly cute.

Slowly, her neck creaked to the side like old machinery.

Taylor’s cheek was firmly smushed up against her shoulder, soundly asleep, arms and legs completely wrapped around Amy under the blanket.

A strange sort of panic rose in her, her face burning hotter and hotter as she slowly blinked at her- roommate? Friend?

It took her a moment to realize that her hand was holding onto Taylor’s forearm, possessively curled over her stomach.

For a moment she was distracted by how nice and smooth her skin felt, weirdly similar to the smoothness of her scales, before she pulled her hand back as if burned when she realized what she was doing.

Her other hand was kind of trapped straight against her side, going down all the way to… Taylor’s… g-general… navel area.

Hurriedly, she pulled her hand up.

Her face was so hot it burned.

“Tay-lor.” She tried, her voice cracking mid-way through, embarrassingly high-pitched.

She quickly shifted, and shook Taylor’s arm.

Taylor made a tiny whine of protest, hugging her tighter.

Feeling like her head was about to combust, she zapped her in the arm, and with a startle, Taylor blearily opened her eyes, slowly blinking up at her. A comfortable, lazy smile spread on Taylor’s face for a moment, looking straight into her eyes, morning light playing with the glossy curls strewn about everywhere.

There was a downright surprising amount of endorphins that flooded Taylor's brain in that small moment. 

She hadn't realized Taylor liked her this much, holy shit.

Amy felt a mortified little whine building up in her chest, and she vaguely felt like screaming.

Stupid straight girls! Never had a clue what they were doing to her!

Wait, was Taylor even… whatever, not the time!

“Let go please?” She requested, only slightly panicked, and Taylor blinked once, twice, her eyes slowly widening as her smile faded, before she jerked in realization and hurriedly let go, pulling away from her as her face went beet red to match Amy’s.

“S-sorry! I didn’t-” Taylor started.

She made a cutting gesture at the air as she scrambled out of the blanket, stumbling out of the bed, and Taylor stopped talking.

Then she froze right as she turned around, her eyes going from Taylor, to the door, then back to Taylor, her brain finally catching up with what the fuck Carol was talking about.

“Oh fuck. Carol saw you. She wants you to come for breakfast.” She breathed out, feeling vaguely light-headed.

Taylor blinked, slow, lazily, relaxing at her words somehow.

“So?” Taylor asked, unbothered, her blank lazy stare eerily similar to how The Creature would stare at her when she used to try and scold her.

Goddamnit, she forgot Taylor was a maniac with no survival instincts…

“So?!” She whisper-shouted, hands going to her hair. “Fuck, we gotta be down in like, fifteen minutes! Get dressed! I’m gonna go to the bathroom to change or something, she wants us both down there.” She rushed, scrambling for the closet. “Take whatever you want!” She called out, wondering what the hell to say, what lie to make up.

Taylor yawned, then lazily got off the bed as she blitzed through the hallway to the bathroom to change.

Taylor got a little distracted when she caught herself in the mirror of Amy’s closet, truth be told.

A mixture of joy and horror crept in as she realized that she looked different.

Not by a lot. In fact, with her clothes on, it was barely noticeable.

But the more she undressed the more bewildered she became at how… lean and sinewy her body had become.

There was basically no fat left on most of her body. Just a tiny thin layer, barely enough to not make her look all weird and dried up.

That changed a lot more things than she would have expected. She had abs now- or rather, they were visible for the first time in her life. Her- obliques, if she remembered biology class, were visible as she twisted and spun around to look at herself.

Her back was almost like a biology textbook, weirdly hypnotising in how she could see every single muscle move and pull and push to move her around, tug her shoulderblades around. 

After checking her butt, she lifted her shirt, and breathed out a sigh of relief. At least she didn’t get even more flat somehow. It wasn’t possible, most likely.

Then she noticed that despite losing a lot of fat… she wasn’t any skinnier.

Which meant she had more muscle now. Not much, but enough to keep her vague outline the same and not draw suspicion.

Oh goddamn it… was she even taller? She could swear there were a couple inches of height there that hadn’t been there before.

Then she looked at her eyes, and froze as she realized that suspicion was definitely going to be a problem.

Because those weren’t her eyes.

Her eyes were dark brown. 

Those were her snake-self’s eyes. The top half a bright, stunning green like a sunny leaf, fading into the bottom half which was more the shade of a dark beer bottle.

It was subtle, almost looked like it was just natural shading, but it wasn’t. It was how her eyes looked in snake form.

At least the pupil wasn’t some freaky slit or something, or she would have started crying.

A lightbulb flicked on in her mind as she tallied up the weird differences, and she kept her legs in place, twisting her waist to test something.

And twisting.

And twisting- holy fuck she was a contortionist. She felt utterly boneless.

Some- aspects of her snake body seemed to have transferred over. Bendy, wiry, strong, smooth-skinned, which wow that one was nice.

She looked better, she wouldn’t deny. She felt better.

Just to check, she dropped down to do a pushup.

And yeah, that was definitely not nearly as easy before she got her powers. It barely took any effort.

She felt about as strong as… maybe a teenage boy that went to the gym? Nothing amazing, but it was nice to get a little shortcut after all the bullshit.

She got up and checked her face in the mirror again, frowning.

Her features were a little bit… sharper. She had a bit of baby fat on her face before she got powers, apparently. Her cheekbones were a tiny bit sharper, giving her a more… angular, regal feel, which was ruined by her stupid frog mouth, but she couldn’t deny that it was still an improvement.

Even if the combination of more pronounced cheekbones with a wide mouth made her look weirdly… creepy.

Still better, r-right?

Should she ask Amy? She felt weirdly self-conscious all of a sudden.

“Amy, breakfast!” Vicky’s voice called, startling her, two quick knuckle raps landing on the door.

Shit, she got distracted.

As she dressed, she largely kept her mind occupied on how to feel about the changes.

Largely positive, actually. It’s not like it actually changed her that much. The only thing she disliked was how her eyes felt like they belonged to her snake form and not her real body, but… meh, she’d take it. She never liked them much anyway.

She still needed glasses, which was the rude part. Change her eyes, but not fix them? Fuck you, power.

The only other problem was how fucking cold she was.

Even as she stole Amy’s more comfy hoodies, thick and heavy and oversized for Amy, but perfect for her, she felt vaguely cold inside, like she wasn’t producing her own body heat well enough. She wasn’t cold-blooded, but she seemed to run pretty cool. It would probably take a while for her clothes to trap enough heat to be comfortable.

Feeling ready to get some grub and just kinda- roll with it, she supposed, she pulled the door open, and met Vicky’s eyes the moment she turned to walk down the hall.

Vicky froze mid-step, actually floating.

She blinked at her.

“You- whu- why are you still here?!” Vicky quickly recovered from her sputtering, whisper-shouting at her while glancing down the hall.

Why was everyone being so dramatic?

“Carol saw me and apparently wants me down for breakfast, kinda pointless to slip out the window now.” She reasoned calmly, tilting her head as she scratched her head. “Hi, by the way. You should apologize to Amy later by the way, you were a complete bitch to her after that double date.” She huffed, brushing her hair back with her fingers, narrowing her eyes at Victoria.

It was pretty nice having her body back, admittedly.

Victoria stared, mouth moving like a fish, before she huffed.

“I will, okay, I felt like she was insulting my friends and I didn’t know she had a fucking girlfriend!” Vicky hissed, gesturing at her.

She froze, this time, staring at Vicky in disbelief.

Slowly, she turned around, to check if someone or something was behind her, then turned back forward, pointing a questioning finger at her own face.

Vicky rolled her eyes.

“Yea yeah, I’m sure you were just cuddling naked for homework reasons, whatever, not my business.” Vicky rolled her eyes.

She opened her mouth, closed it, blushing beet red.

No matter how much she uh, honestly liked the idea of being Amy's girlfriend, it probably wouldn’t happen. It wasn’t like Amy was likely to look at her that way, she was the complete opposite of Victoria. Victoria was bright, she was dark. Victoria was a curvy bombshell, full and supple, and she was a long, flat, tall thing of muscle and contorting flesh. Even after a slight improvement.  

Maybe the resemblance to a frog had faded, but it had just changed to a more sinewy reptile.  

Also, Amy was way out of her league, was Vicky even being serious with that?

“Just- why are you wearing Amy’s clothes?” Vicky abruptly noticed.

“Uh. Mine… got… ruined?” She tried, smiling blankly as Vicky stared at her for a second in incomprehension.

Shit, she kinda forgot about the whole… possessions thing. She had candy and switchblades and stuff, not clothes!

Vicky made a face of grossed out realization, flying back a bit.

“Oh god, why did you say that?! TMI, TMI!” Vicky groaned, mortified. “Just- get Amy and come down, we’re so fucked.” Vicky groaned, dropping to the ground and stomping her way downstairs.

… What?

Whatever.

She went to the bathroom, and Amy walked out before she could get close enough to knock, sweating profusely for some reason, all jittery.

Then she turned around, saw her, and made a small choking noise, staring her up and down.

… Was something wrong with her clothes?

She stared at Amy, perplexed, looking down at herself, even lifting the fluffy hoodie up to her ribs to get it out of the way to check if her sweatpants had a hole or something equally embarrassing in the front, which was thankfully not the case because she had no underwear.

Nothing was off that she could see.

Amy seemed to choke on her spit, coughing into a fist as she averted her eyes all of a sudden.

“...What? Is something on me?” She asked, confused.

Amy cleared her throat, once then twice, turned, almost walked into the bathroom door, then pivoted again to walk past her, almost dragging her by the arm, fumbling around.

“N-nothing. Uh, come on. Doom awaits.” Amy shuddered. “Uh- d-don’t lie too much, Carol can detect that shit like a bloodhound. And uh- yeah. No time.” Amy mumbled.

She frowned as they walked down the steps.

“Hey relax, it’s just Carol.” She reasoned.

Amy paused at the bottom, and turned to stare at her, incredulous.

“... Ah fuck, I forgot you’re insane.” Amy whimpered, lowering her face into her hands.

She snorted, amused, and quickly draped her arms around Amy’s neck from behind, hugging her with a content sigh as the girl sputtered while she pushed her to the kitchen.

Oh, she could actually put her chin on Amy’s head. That- pushed a funny little button in the back of her mind that made her weirdly happy.

Maybe getting a little bit taller wasn’t that bad?

“W-what are you doing?” Amy hissed.

Taylor yawned, her cheek on Amy’s head as she frog-marched them through the living room, the sound of clacking plates coming from a clearly occupied kitchen.

Even in this form with worse sense of smell, Amy smelled so nice that she couldn’t help but breathe it in and sigh in contentment before answering.

“What I do every morning, what do you mean? It’s cold?” She asked, confused, then it clicked. “Oh wait, is it weird now that I’m a person to you?” She asked quietly, stopping in her tracks.

Amy half-turned in her arms to stare up at her with a wide-eyed “what do you think?!” stare and a furious blush.

Her face dropped, smile flickering out, eyes lowering.

“Oh.” She whispered, sadly, feeling her stomach drop.

Damn it, she hadn’t wanted this reveal to change things between them. It felt so awful. Like she was losing her. 

She moved to let go, and a hand quickly grabbed her wrist, pulling her arms back around Amy’s neck.

Hope ignited.

“I-it’s fine, j-just not around- other people. They’ll- think it’s weird.” Amy stuttered softly, holding onto her wrists.

She blinked, then grinned, overjoyed. 

Gosh, her wrists felt so nice in Amy’s hands.

… She was down bad, wasn’t she? Damn it.

Amy averted her eyes in that adorable way she did when she was embarrassed about something. It made her want to hug her and squeeze.

“Let go, they’re waiting.” Amy whispered, finally letting go of her wrists.

“Oh, right.” She hurried, and let go, carelessly trotting past Amy, who followed to tug her back, not expecting her to lead.

She ignored the tugging, stretching like a cat as she glided into the kitchen, feeling weirdly lethargic without Amy’s body heat.

Definitely weird snake bullshit.

“Uh, hey.” Vicky awkwardly began. To her right, Carol and Mark were seated on the other side of the table, whispering something in quick tones, which quickly stopped to stare at her, which she ignored.

Vicky’s seat was on the left, and the two seats left were opposite the adults, much to her great pleasure, because it meant she could sit with Amy.

“Hey.” She replied, casually, smiling as Amy quickly sat down on her chair, instead heading for the fridge.

She opened it, humming a tune, stealing a hot dog from its familiar spot, then a tiny Heshly’s Kiss chocolate bite from the top shelf, before closing the door and taking her seat, putting them on her plate.

“You certainly seem to have made yourself at home.” Carol noted, somewhat neutrally.

She shrugged, getting comfy in her chair, before putting the hot dog over her mouth, tilting her head back, and pushing it down her throat with a finger.

It was around this point she remembered that not only was that a really fucking weird way to eat a hot dog to normal people, she was also no longer a fucking snake, because instead of swallowing it with ease, she instead gagged, choked, and hurriedly coughed it out onto her plate, breaking out into a furious coughing fit as she doubled over.

Amy thumped her back, mortified, leaning close.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” Amy hissed into her ear.

“Forgot.” She forced out, before letting out another chest-wracking cough, accepting a glass of water from Vicky that she almost spit out on the next cough, hurriedly putting it back on the table.

“Oh my god you’re a fucking idiot.” Amy whimpered quietly, hiding her eyes behind a hand as she thumped her back again.

“Luv- ghguuu too.” She sarcastically replied through her half-coughs, much louder.

“Are you uh, okay?” Vicky asked, equally bewildered as she was concerned.

She gave her a thumbs up as she straightened, blinking the tears out of her eyes.

“Old- party trick. Forgot I haven’t tried it in ages.” She excused, voice hoarse. She cleared her throat a bit. 

“... Sounds fun.” Mark noted.

Carol said something too but her eyes kind of got lost in the fucking mountain of breakfast on the table.

This was a lot of food, damn. More than usual. Nicer than usual too.

Wait… she had taste buds again. Normal ones, not scent-buds which kinda sorta hinted at scent-flavour.

Her mouth watered.

“So. …you finally bring someone home and don’t bother introducing her?” Carol acerbically asked Amy.

Amy withered.

“U-uh, yeah. N-not like that, C-mom.” Amy tried to explain, giving up almost instantly. “Uhm, this is Taylor-”

“Full name.” Carol cut in, almost a snap, like every other order.

Amy glanced at her, panicked.

Uh. Fuck. She kinda didn’t expect that, what the fuck? Who asked that at a first meeting?

”Uh, Taylor… Uh, don’t know.” Amy admitted, making Vicky’s brows shoot up in incredulity. “Taylor this is… everyone. She uhm, knows your names.” Amy mumbled, picking up an omelette and picking at it with her fork to pretend to be busy, vaguely gesturing.

“Hey. Heard a lot of things about you.” She replied to no one in particular, easily, quickly piling stuff onto her plate.

She kept shuffling around, and couldn’t get comfortable, and the floor was all cold against her toes. Decision made, she quickly pulled her chair back, and coiled up on her chair, her legs to her chest, tilted to the side to allow her to access the table, then scooted forward a bit with the chair screeching against the tiles.

Much better.

After the blank staring of the entire table, Carol primly cut into her pancakes. “Good things, I hope.”

She hummed non-commitally back, not quite lying.

Amy kept giving her these “stop being weird!” glances which were stupid, she wanted to be comfortable for her first human breakfast in weeks!

Her hoodie kept slipping off her shoulder, and it was getting annoying and a little bit dangerous because again, no underwear.

Vicky seemed to notice at the third time it slipped off her shoulder as they slowly began to eat.

Unfortunately, so did Carol, narrowing her eyes.

“Any reason you’re in Amy’s clothes?” Carol asked, innocently.

“Mine got ruined yesterday.” She tried, the same excuse. Good to be consistent.

Amy choked on her orange juice. Vicky face palmed.

She raised a brow, and bit into her pancake and holy sweetness.

She forgot how good it was to taste things properly!

Immediately, she began to scarf her pancakes down like a maniac, ignoring the sisters’ weird reactions.

“I- I uhm, I got some clothes you can borrow. You’re much closer to my build and height.” Vicky offered.

She hurriedly swallowed, and shook her head.

“No, I like these, they smell like her.” She automatically replied, then paused as she realized how weird that came out.

Amy’s head met the table with a slight thump and clattering utensils.

She resumed scarfing her pancakes down as Carol’s stare burned holes into her head.

She was on a timer now before getting kicked out, and she was gonna make damn sure to enjoy this breakfast before that.

Sucks to suck, Carol.

“So, how long have you known my daughter?” Carol asked.

“Oh, feels like years, really.” She dodged, before inhaling another bacon slice.

“Time does tend to fly. Speaking of which, do your parents know where you are?” Carol asked, eyes unerringly trained on her.

“Someone always knows where I am, probably.” She shot back, pouring syrup on her eggs, then quickly grabbing the salt to douse her fruit, which sat next to a sausage covered in marmalade.

Vicky stared in horror at the concoctions on her plate.

Mark just ate his food.

Carol…

She grinned widely at the thin-eyed look she got from Carol which said “I know what you’re doing”.

Oh bring it on, you utter cunt.

There was nobody she hated more than bullies, and Carol was a dangerous one.

Nobody was mean to Amy and got away with it, not while she was here. She was hers- ahem, her friend, she meant.

Amy just tried to nibble her breakfast and hide, letting her take all the heat.

And that was perfectly fine with her.

She loved heat.

Amy Dallon was in hell.

She forgot that just because Taylor was in human form, that did not mean she was not a walking catastrophe.

She ate food like she was eating mice, barely chewing at all.

She kept stealing from everyone’s plates the moment they glanced away with lightning fast strikes of her fork. Including hers. She was pretty sure all of them noticed eventually, but said nothing out of awkward politeness.

And sweet fuck, where was she putting all of it?! She’d eaten enough for four people!

Not to mention the other weirdo behaviour that Taylor probably didn’t even notice, like how when anyone would talk, she would sharply tilt her head to them and stare unblinkingly like a curious reptile more than a person.

Or how she coiled up on her chair like a dumbass instead of sitting normally.

Or how whenever she sniffed something specifically to smell it, she’d poke her tongue out as if to taste the air, just a tiny bit.

It was- honestly, kinda cute, she wouldn’t lie, but she was such a fucking weirdo it was killing her with second-hand embarassment.

Then Taylor draped herself over her again, in front of everyone, and she felt her mind blank with something too strong to be called embarrassment, no, but pure distilled mortification.

The breakfast dragged on, as did the interrogation, and only Mark was uncaring enough to escape without drawing Carol’s ire.

At some point, she got comfortable, scooting her chair close to Amy’s for the warmth and to claim her territo- her- uhm, help, Amy, yeah that.

It was just habit really, to drape herself over Amy like she did when she was a snake.

Idly running her fingers through her wild hair while sipping juice and staring Carol right in the eye was just a natural progression of that really. It was just so frizzy and fluffy. It would be a sin not to.

And it was rude not to look when someone was talking.

She wasn’t being weird. Shut up, brain. Useless thing.

Amy sat rigid, beet-red, and it was only when she started muttering in an adorably high-pitched voice, “Personal space. Personal space. Personal space,” that she relented, having made her point.

She wasn’t sure what point it was, but damn if she made it.

“So, where do you come from?” Carol tried again, eyes flickering from her to Amy and back, seemingly having got it.

“The hamper. Sometimes the radiator. A drawer, occasionally.” She joked.

Amy shot her a wide-eyed look, completely baffled at the snake joke. Her eyes were blown wide, an unspoken are you completely mad in them that was absolutely hilarious.

She tried not to let the snickering show, lips firmly flat. It almost made her blow a lung, teeth grit, from how much she wanted to bust out laughing.

Carol stared.

“I meant originally.” Carol emphasized with a vicious stab of her fork.

“Ah, sorry, got confused.” She nodded, smiling. “Atoms from assorted stars. Mostly carbon I think.” She added, before devouring the hot dog, normally this time. Ish. “Honestly ma’am, I’m impressed. You run such a tight ship! Does everyone get a breakfast interrogation or am I just special?” She asked, polite and cute as could be.

Amy sank low in her chair as if trying to hide under the table with a vaguely panicked noise akin to a deflated balloon.

Vicky paused mid-bite, giving her a wide-eyed look of astonishment.

“Oh trust me, you are most certainly not special.” Carol slowly replied, her fork screeching against her plate. “Plans?” Carol asked, dropping the polite act.

“Chaos.” She replied, popping a muffin into her mouth and fighting the urge to moan.

Taste buds were so nice!

“Intentions?” Carol asked, losing her patience judging by the slight increase of speed in which she spat her words out.

“Impure.” She replied, grinning ear to ear. “Have you tried breathing exercises? They’re great for stress.”

“What do you like about my daughter?” Carol abruptly switched it up to a weirdly unrelated question, but she didn’t miss a beat.

“She’s cute, she’s funny, she likes books even if she reads abhorrent garbage-” Amy sent her a flustered half-glare, and she ignored it, stretching leisurely in her chair, “she’s warm and smells nice, she’s a hard worker, she’s selfless, she’s incredibly patient, she has amazing self-control, she’s nice to animals even if she insults them and talks to them like a weirdo, and even if she snaps and grumbles a lot, I’m of the opinion that a rose without its thorns is only half as beautiful.” She finished, stealing that last line straight out of-

A romance novel, actually.

Oh fuck, that last one might have been a little much…

She glanced aside to Amy, worried she freaked her out.

Amy was staring at her, beet-red and speechless, like she couldn’t believe what she just heard.

She blushed a little, dismay pooling in her gut as she ducked her head.

Fuck, she freaked her out! God, why did she-

“Your intentions with my daughter?” Carol asked, seemingly unconvinced, or just straight up disagreeing with her assessment of Amy.

“To stay with her as long as she tolerates me.” She replied easily, clearing her throat to recover.

“To stay with her as long as she tolerates me.” Taylor replied easily.

On its own? Really sweet, honestly. 

Combined with the rest, it kind of sounded like a marriage proposal.

Amy felt vaguely like she was having a stroke.

Stupid straight girls. Probably straight. Maybe? Is she flirting with me?! 

“Reason for approaching my daughter?” Carol half-snapped, outright glaring at her.

“Refer to previous. I like her.” She shrugged, smiling.

“Oh, I’m sure you do.” Carol replied, sarcasm thick in her voice.

Her smile vanished, her face blanking as she stared, unblinking, at the insinuation in those words.

“Implying something?” She asked coldly, fighting the urge to strangle this woman.

Triumph rose in Carol’s eyes.

“Ha ha, these- pancakes are great.” Victoria wheezed, trying to defuse the bomb. Her fork held a piece of bacon.

“Do you think you’re the first to approach Amy with ulterior motives? Who is it? Your father? Mother? Who do you want her to heal?” Carol asked, setting her utensils down.

Amy sank low in her chair, face buried in her hands with a mortified whimper. 

“Just because you can’t fathom loving your daughter for who she is, does not mean others can’t.” She replied, coldly.

“Don’t act like you know me.” Carol replied, voice as frigid as the arctic.

“Don’t act like you know Amy.” She snapped, glaring at her, fists clenched.

Carol’s nostrils flared.

“I’ve had enough of you. Leave, and don’t contact me or Amy ever again, unless you want a harassment lawsuit.” Carol bluffed.

She snorted, getting up and pushing her chair back, perhaps way too aggressively judging by the clatter behind her.

“I’ll talk to Amy whenever I feel like it. She’s not your fucking pet.” She snapped, walking to the door without a backwards glance.

Fuck, she hated this bitch so much. She couldn’t even make it through one breakfast with the woman.

Amy and Vicky both stared in mute astonishment as the girl exited from the front door- barefoot, no less, slamming the door shut behind her.

Carol let out a long, shuddering sigh full of anger.

“I have a feeling I know where you’ve been getting that rebellious streak from, now.” Carol coldly told Amy. “You will break up with that exploitative, arrogant little bitch-”

Amy’s head snapped around to Carol, and Vicky inwardly sighed.

Damn it. This was going to be one of those days. Or weeks. She didn’t even get time to apologize yet.

“First of all, I’m not with her, and secondly, no, I’m not cutting my friend out!” Amy cut in.

“I wasn’t asking.” Mom snapped.

“I don’t care!” Amy shouted, getting up from her chair. “Fuck, can you not wait TWO GODDAMN YEARS?! Two years, and I’m gone! Just leave me alone for two fucking years! I’ll even pay you back for the fucking rent and food after if you want!”

Mom blinked, slowly, owlishly, at Amy.

“What are you talking about?” Carol asked, genuinely confused.

Amy, shoulders heaving, face red, nostrils flaring, glared at their mom.

Vicky sighed.

Goddamn it. One day without… all this. Their family was so messed up.

“The moment I turn eighteen, I am fucking out of here. I am gone gone. You won’t ever have to fucking see me again. I won’t even come to your fucking funeral! So can you not just let me be, for just two goddamn years?! I don’t care what you have to tell me! I don’t WANT your fucking advice, or your life lessons or your micromanagement or you harassing the only fucking friend I have out of my life with lawsuits! I’ll pay you back later, if it’s such a bother to fucking raise me! Just leave me the fuck alone!” Amy screamed, panting. “And don’t- don’t talk about Taylor like that.” Amy weakly finished.

Victoria… she’d never seen Amy scream like that. Not at their mom. She was always- not scared of her, but something like it. Meek, with her.

Damn it, why was that girl still here in the morning!? They could have avoided all of this if they just weren’t being stupid!

Carol, for once, looked poleaxed, just staring at Amy in complete silence. 

Wait... gone… gone gone? Fuck, what did that mean? Was Amy planning to leave the state or something?

They really needed to talk.

“I really-” Amy started, expression contorted into a sneer of hatred, and then she just kind of blinked in surprise, patting her oversized, squirming scarf. Something of a realization seemed to dawn on her face, and she quickly calmed down, before a small smile bloomed on her face.

Amy shook her head, turning around to pick up Taylor’s chair and put it back to the table.

“Nevermind. We’ll be late, Vicky. Come on.” Amy abruptly jerked her head to the door, wordlessly walking to their backpacks, left by the door.

Still somewhere between shock and bewilderment, she just nodded at empty air, shot a confused glance at her mom, who still looked vaguely perplexed, and shot after her.

She hoped dad didn’t hear any of that.

Chapter Text

“Hey, Amy, wait up.” Vicky stopped her as soon as they landed with a hand to the shoulder right as she let go and was about to rush off.

She did as asked, blinking at her sister in confusion.

Vicky bit her lip, fidgeting a little.

“Just wanted to say I’m sorry.” Vicky blurted out, and before Amy could ask, continued. “I just- the dates took a lot of time to set up, and then I felt like you were insulting my friends and Dean, and I got- mad. And mean. I’m really sorry. Did- do you remember what you said? Do you actually think that’s true?” Vicky asked, voice low and concerned.

Amy stared for a moment, surprised.

“I… uuuuuuuuuuuuh. Don’t remember what I said, actually.” She admitted. “Was a bit upset myself.” She awkwardly noted, shifting from foot to foot.

Vicky made an understanding face, nodding as she let her hand drop from Amy’s shoulder, adjusting her bag, eyes slightly downcast.

“You said that- basically, it felt like I was trying to get rid of you. With the dates, and stuff. Did you mean that?” Vicky asked, voice somewhere between hurt and concerned.

Amy winced immediately. She forgot about that, what with all the… Taylor.

“Well… it kinda feels that way.” She admitted, raising a hand to scratch Taylor’s side around her neck, taking immense comfort in her presence right now.

Then she remembered that she was pretty much scratching Taylor’s ribs and felt embarrassment well up like an erupting volcano that had her dropping her hand like it was burnt.

“Pretty much every single time I’ve asked you to hang out the past year or two has been a series of hearing ‘sorry, going somewhere with someone else’. And whenever you said yes, it was you trying to hitch me on someone.” She continued with an awkward shrug, unable to keep some bitterness out of her tone.

Vicky groaned, covering her face as she paced for a moment, before abruptly pivoting to her and extending her arms to pull her into a hug.

She took it with grace, enjoying the hug.

Taylor did not, squirming and hissing under her breath with annoyance, caught between Amy’s neck and Vicky’s cheek.

Amy almost burst into laughter, imagining her squished under Vicky’s face, but held it in with barely an escaping snicker, her chest shaking with mirth.

“That was really not what I was trying to do, I’m sorry. I’ll try to make more room for you, alright? And I didn’t mean what I said about people not liking you, that’s obvious bullshit, I just got upset.” Vicky mumbled into her shoulder.

She smiled.

“Yeah, alright.”

Vicky nodded, then pulled away, before fixing her with a stern stare.

“Now… Why the fuck did you not tell me you were gay? I mean, I’m glad you found someone that loves you so much, even if she’s such a freak, but why not tell me?” Vicky asked, baffled.

Amy stared, feeling her face start to burn already.

“She’s- not with me. Uhm. And it didn’t matter if I was gay because I wasn’t- looking for anyone? A-and I’m not sure Taylor- likes me… that way?” She weakly managed, her brain lagging and screaming something akin to ‘get me out here!!!’

Taylor was on her neck. And she had to pretend she wasn’t. While having this talk.

This was torture.

Vicky’s stare grew incredulous.

“Amy, you cannot be this fucking dense. That’s for guys!” Vicky said, her tone almost pleading.

She flushed, about to deny it or- or at least give some leeway for Taylor to explain herself later.

Vicky barged on like usual. “‘A rose without its thorns is only half as beautiful’? Are you fucking kidding me?! That was the most romantic thing I’ve heard in my entire life!” Vicky squealed in delight, eyes wide. “I want to stay with her as long as she wants me around?’ She might as well have started waving a giant flag around that read ‘I love you, marry me’!” Vicky exclaimed.

Taylor somehow managed to choke on air and start coughing even in her snake form, her contractions squeezing Amy’s neck to a very uncomfortable degree.

Amy buried her face in her hands with a mortified whimper.

“And she slept with you! And she literally started ranting about why you’re awesome at the drop of a hat! Yeah she’s a complete freak, but don’t you dare let her slip away! She’s not even scared off by mom being mom!” Vicky insisted.