There comes a point in time when singing 99 bottles of beer on the wall is your only outlet for boredom, it was something only the most desperate of people would turn to in a time of need, but the counter to that was the fact that no matter what Stiles tried, his voice wouldn't come out.
There was no sound coming out of his mouth, even as he went through the motions of singing, he hadn't stopped since he started 34 bottles back after the initial panic. Stiles had gone from thinking this place was limbo to thinking it was one of the circles of hell. He was also in the camp of not thinking about it because if he thought about it then...
He wasn't going to go there...not at all, roll on to the next topic brain roll on!
Stiles was getting really tiered of seeing the same thing for vast stretches of time. For someone who was used to a overabundance of outside stimuli this yawning black world of nothing set his teeth on edge. That and the ever present tug/pull sensation that was centered behind his navel, a place he still wasn't looking along, he was only a little proud of this, not bringing a hand up to feel along his neck to check and see why his voice wasn't working. He was going to stay in denial about both, thank you very much and still on the not going there train to nowhere land.
Pushing the song, still going and on bottle number 56, a small miracle because he usually got to 90 and gave up, to a different section of his brain while he kept shuffling along. His steps not even really making noise other then a soft shuffling now and again, which was kinda creepy but hey! It was a noise outside of his mind and he wasn't having to try and lip sync it like a bad singer on stage, and let his eyes scan the shifting pattern. Some times the oil slick would form shapes, moths were a popular one about 12 bottle back, and now it was something vaguely small and furry.
The internal Wiki that took up a scarily large portion of his brain, if he thought really heard he even had a search bar he had spent so much time on that site, ran though a few animals before spitting out Mustela putorious furo, or ferret for short.
He would have just called them long skunks because they smelled funny, but at least he wasn't in charge of that because well, animal names would be awful to say the very least and ferrets didn't need any more help on any front.
Ferrets, as a whole kinda creeped him out. Well not really creeped out it was just the little bastards were smart, very smart, not that he had ever really gotten to interact with one for long, they were illegal in California. His cousin, with a name he could hardly remember for longer then a few seconds as it was now let alone how he was before he got his meds that still made it hard to him to focus on the mundane things like names until later . Back to the ferrets creeping him out though.
It was their eyes simple as that, their creepy little beady eyes that seemed to stare right into his very being as they begged for peanut butter, little tails half cocked in the air as tiny teeth nibbled at his fingers. They wouldn't bite his skinny pale ass. The albino ones were like mini devils, or alphas if he wanted to piss...well he would have to save that one for when ever he meet up with Derek again, if he ever meet up with the sour wolf. Stiles bet if he compared the male to a white ferret because they had red eyes it would get a impressive show of eyebrow movement a glare and a sharp growl of warning.
Hey, winning Derek could no longer threaten to rip his throat out with is teeth for not doing what the werewolf wanted him to. See there was always a silver lining waiting to be seen!
Anyway back to the creep ass ferrets and getting bitten by the, sadly so, tinny little slip of a thing that had a taste for his blood. Okay so maybe getting bitten was slightly his fault, sticking half his hand in the jar of the very stuff they got as a treat then waving his fingers about like a loon, but still little teeth hurt a lot more then he would have thought. It did not give the thing, Panda if he remember half right a barely regular sized ferret , a baby if he remembered right, the right to chomp down on his tender little digits when ever she wanted.
As he said little teethes hurt a lot more then he thought they would and he only got to mess with her for like...thirty minutes and he was traumatized for life.
Though it was cute when they did the "Weasel War Dance" hopping about like him on sugar, little noises of happiness here and there, or when they used their little paws to hold on to his finger as they tried to play. Still creepy though.
But just because they could be kinda cute didn't mean he liked them.
Stiles knew that he shouldn't let his brain run off with out him, a portion was still singing for goodness sake, but the reemergence of different shapes and what now looked like colors gave him a wee bit of lee way. It was how his brain had always operated anyway and there was probably no changing it now that he was here.
Besides a freaking ghost ferret was stalking him or some shit and it was creeping him out.
He was dead, he shouldn't be creeped out anymore...maybe this was going in the "I'm in hell for all the shit I said I would go to hell for," list of things he did to probably deserve this, because this was getting stupid. But so was starting 99 bottles over, there were only so many times he could go through that song and stay sane, maybe Radioactive should be the next song to loop while he let the rest of his brain jump topic to topic.
It made him wonder how other people dealt with their thoughts, was it a neat line or did it bounce from part to part like his did. If it was a neat little line, thoughts coming and going in an orderly fashion it must be kinda boring to just sit there and try and think about one thing instead like twenty. Well for a guy at least, he had read somewhere that a woman's mind was something he never ever wanted to be a part of.
At least his brain was kinda working like the internet with a few to many tabs open so it was lagging a bit, one section was playing music and on another little section of his brain he counted tug/pull sensations, and was about to go crazy because dear lords it was getting as bad as the damn ghost ferret nipping at his heels.
Was it just him or was the stupid thing getting a lot closer then it had been and was more then a oil slick picture to haunt his dreams for the rest of his un-life? Because if so, it was totally not fair at all.
Maybe he should devote brain power to figuring that out because if he had to spend the rest of eternity feeling that then he wanted his money back for what ever started it in the first place. He didn't know what he did to deserve having a little creep following him about in his after life.
Well maybe when he was a kid and convincing Scott that all the seeds he swallowed were going to grow in his stomach during the night, and the resulting terrors that Scott had after that, which lead to a lecture from both his father and Mrs. McCall, was one of the small things on that list of why.
At least the everlasting black was starting to change towards a rather dark grey, a sick looking fog on nightmare juice, because Stiles was sure if he was alive and could feel you know, strain, for all the hard hard work he was doing walking, shuffling now and then included because there came a time when one had to drag their feet damn it, he would be about as winded as pre bite Scott.
Not that he really had much way to tell how far he had actually gone other then that damn song, which he was switching, Radioactive was a good song for only so long maybe he should go for irony with Ring of Fire, but his surroundings were changing.
Slooooowly but still, different and that is all he cared about.
Maybe he should turn back, the black was better then fog. No, no he wouldn't turn back that would bring him closer to revenge of the ferret and he would lose a finger or something to add to his pile of "Not going to think about it, so it's not actually there and he was perfectly whole."
King of denial he was, as long as it wasn't his dad who found him and had a heart attack, Stiles didn't care how he looked. Well, he had always figured he would have a closed casket anyway. It made him wonder if he had been found yet, or if he was rotting and disgusting out in the open.
Don't you worry dear they will find you when this is all over and I am strong enough, wouldn't want them to see you like this, though red is your color. Once I've bleed you dry...
Best not to think about that actually, he didn't want to hear that voice...sickly sweet in its promise of death, and the flash of the face that went with it made him want to brave the ferret.
Speaking, or was it thinking since he couldn't actually speak, of the ferret it seemed to have changed into a creepy ass tree trunk, or at least now he just had to deal with the tree, no matter how much it seemed to make that voice whisper in his ear, he just wanted things to be sorta calm. Getting stalked by something that looked like a walking hair ball only longer was not calm. It was the opposite of calm.
I'm glad I chose you, the nemeton ...
It was like he had brain pop ups or something because really, he did not want to go there, not in the slightest, going there would be a bad idea in a long, a so very long, line of bad ideas, like Scott and Allison dating in secret and almost getting caught bad idea.
Oh well, he would just have to do what he always did when a pop up scared the hell out of him by suddenly appearing out of no where land and being louder then anything else going on around thus making him jump and squeal ,not like a girl...okay maybe once...or twice...or so. He would close that tab as fast as he could and turn up the music.
For once in Stiles life he had run out of songs to entertain himself with, a big fat blank meet him when he tried to pull up his mental playlist.
Stiles really, really wanted his money back.
Like...really there was always something he could get going up there even if it was a pod cast from Rooster teeth, those guys entertained him many a hour while he was lost down the rabbit hole known as the internet, so maybe this was like, him getting tiered. Because that would make sense, he had started moving the moment he 'woke up' so he was using energy he couldn't really replace anymore with food.
The hell if he was going to sit on the creepy tree in the Silent Hill fog, nothing good could come from that, but he wasn't going to stand there like a character on screen when the player went away from the keyboard for a moment.
He could sit on the ground...there was a ground he had been walking on it for while now so there was no reason he couldn't sit on the ground. Except ghost ferret would find him there and bye bye limbs.
Creepy tree, ferret, creepy tree, ferret, creepy tree with some funky looking roots off to the side, and what looked like a weird moss covering the top, ferret.
Creepy tree for the win! Because ferrets still scared him more.
Maybe he should try and take off his jac...or not because a quick look to the side and at his arms, not down we are not going to look at ourselves there, because now he was referring to himself as we a sure sign if anything he needed a break, that he didn't have it on.
Which kinda made sense he did go down stairs because...
Because he had thought his dad was coming in, and he had left his research , and walked down to talk to him in the kitchen and maybe grab some food because he was starving, but once he made it down there...
Hadn't it been his dads day off?
It must have been because there was two sets of dishes...
But if he had known that his father was already home, why had he gone downstairs?
It had been that noise.
Little red ridding spark, my what a bright light you have.
All the better for me to gobble you right on up.
I would like to state for the record that I own three ferrets and they are adorable balls of fluff...I used one of my friends view of ferrets for this. Also Stiles not being able to talk was a lot harder to do then I thought it would be...anyway I will get back to work on getting the next chapter out...I always post first on AO3 so if I am late here check there =D Ima the same name an' ever'ting.