gregorysarmy
gregorysarmy
Gregory’s Personal Bodyguard
109 posts
The dude who wrote the Gregory FNAF 600 defense thread
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gregorysarmy · 16 days ago
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gregorysarmy · 25 days ago
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"Self-Preservation" (11).
Trigger warnings: swearing, past mentions of child abuse, current child abuse, isolation, mental breakdowns, anxiety attacks, and The Mimic being itself.
@gregorysarmy - I hope you're having a good week :D!!
OMG!! SOTM is almost here! I'm so excited!!! I'm at work when it comes out, so I'm going to do my best to stay off social media until I can get home and play it myself.
Chapter 11: Mistakes
--
There’s something to be said about the way Gregory holds his gaze, locking eyes with Mimic like they’re in a standoff and the first one to blink loses. Or perhaps a more apt comparison would be a wild animal, cornered, and with nothing to lose. 
Mimic ruffles his son’s messy hair. There’s no reason for Gregory to be so up in arms. All he wants to do is welcome his son home properly. To accept all of him, even the parts that others would deem vile and ugly. 
In between loose fingers, he holds the bunny mask aloft. It’s the first one Vanessa wore before she branched out and made her own (if there is one thing Mimic can appreciate about his oldest follower, reluctant or otherwise, is her creative spirit and willingness to adapt when need be). Gregory scoots the rest of the way off his bed, using it as a barrier between him and Mimic. 
“Stay away!” He yells, looking at him with big, terrified eyes. His pupils take up most of his eyes, leaving only a small ring of rich russet behind. He holds his arms out in front of him, as if that’s going to stop Mimic. 
Mimic inwardly sighs, dropping his arm. “Fine,” he says petulantly. “I have other things to do anyway.” He turns away, taking the mask with him. He can’t risk his son tampering with it. It’s of the utmost importance it stays exactly the way it is. The access point will line up nicely with Gregory’s chip, which will hopefully shock it back into working right. 
-x-x-x-
Vanessa breathes deeply, running her hands through her hair.
Think, Vanessa, think!
The world around her feels like it’s closing in, leaving her no time to process anything. At the same time, her body’s telling her to run away, to flee, to leave everything and everyone behind. But she can’t do that. Not to Gregory. He doesn’t deserve to be abandoned at the mercy of whatever the fuck that thing is. 
But she can’t do it. 
She can’t do anything. 
Vanessa collapses to her knees on the church lawn. Half-burnt candle holders litter the grass, one digs into her knee, leaving behind faint ash stains on her pant legs. Tears run down her face. 
“Why me?” She asks. She corrects herself, “why him?” 
Vanessa remembers little of her time as Vanny. Perhaps more than she’s ever told Gregory, but still little in the grand scheme of things. But she remembers this -
A family, two parents, a mom, a dad, and one little boy. The little boy was cheerful and kind and polite, and all the things' parents hope their children would be. The parents were just as kind and just as cheerful, but they were also human. And to be human is to err. They looked away for just a moment. 
That was their mistake. 
And the little boy with his tender smile and kind heart was whisked away, right under the parents’ noses. 
That was her mistake.
She remembers how they cried and cried. The mom holding onto her husband, hands gripping onto his suit jacket like her life depended on it. 
And all she did was watch as their life fell apart, piece by piece. Offering no condolences or sweet words or offers of help. She hadn’t been allowed to, but even if she could, Vanessa, then Vanny, wanted to wash her hands of it all. 
She played her part. The creature got what it wanted, and she felt sick whenever she passed the boy in the Pizzaplex. 
Gone was the boy with a tender smile and kind heart. In his place was something akin to the boy but not exact. An imperfect imitation, like a kid copying down answers from a textbook but changing the wording just so. 
She tried to steer clear as much as possible, given the nature of their work. And she did, as the creature didn’t like to share, and it especially didn’t like to share with her when she was herself - Vanessa - and not what it wanted her to be. Her own imperfect imitation. Vanny.
And then, one day, the spell was broken. The fog was lifted from her mind like a veil, and she could actually think. 
But, she remembers thinking, there’s that boy again. The one she actively avoided for years on end, avoiding the direct consequences of her sins. The one that strolled over to her, a bag hefted on his shoulder, with a torn but tender smile and kind, tired eyes. 
She took him in, because that boy had nowhere else to go. The creature in the basement made sure of that. 
She took him in, because it was the right thing to do. The boy was almost fifteen, but he could barely pass as ten. It would be cruel to hand him over to the state. 
She took him in, because she’s selfish and cowardly and all the things her father used to scream at her until the alcohol left his system or until the neighbor that lived in the apartment below them knocked their broom against their ceiling.
She never did like living alone. 
Vanessa wraps her arms around herself. The cold is oppressive, closing in just like the rest of the world. 
That’s not entirely true. 
More than her need to not be alone, or the state, or even her own conscience, Vanessa took Gregory in because she loves him more than anything. 
He might be slightly bent from his years under that thing’s mentorship, but he’s not broken. He still smiles at her with all the brilliance of ten thousand stars. He’s perfectly imperfect, and she would move heaven and earth to protect him from experiencing one more ounce of anguish. 
Because for all that Vanessa is, she’s human. One that errs often, but Gregory has always forgiven her, wrapping his thin arms around her waist and hugging her until the tears stop threatening to fall. 
He’s always seen the best in people, even if they don’t deserve it. 
And maybe, just maybe, that’s his mistake. 
-x-x-x-
Gregory snaps the rubber band he found on the ground underneath his bed, against his wrist. He winces, feeling the way rubber sharply smacks into raw skin. This is the only way he has of staying awake. 
He knows that thing is waiting, watching from the shadows like a fucked-up version of Batman. 
He giggles to himself, feeling a little detached from his body and the world around him. His head feels heavy and it’s starting to weigh him down, but before he can think more on it, Gregory snaps the rubber band again. 
He snaps it again and again in a rhythmic pattern. But, soon, even that stops being effective at staving off the heaviness of exhaustion. He wants to cry, but all he can do is laugh. Nothing is funny, and yet, everything is hilarious. 
Gregory curses his body, himself, for being so weak-willed. 
His neck seemingly stops supporting his head, at the same time his eyes are forced shut, and all Gregory can do about it is shed a few tears before he’s pushed under the tall waves of sleep. 
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gregorysarmy · 1 month ago
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Self-Preservation: 9-10
Trigger warnings: kidnapping, mentioned/referenced child death, mentioned/referenced torture and blood, and a child in distress.
Chapter 9: Meant to Be + Chapter 10: Homesick
@gregorysarmy - The Mimic stops haunting the narrative and torments Gregory instead.
--
Chapter 9: Meant to Be
Like a rubber band being stretched and then suddenly let go, Gregory comes back to full awareness. The faint smell of masked urine, sewage, and God knows what else assaults his senses. Only the strong smell of lavender keeps him from throwing up. 
He grimaces, bringing a hand up to block out the rest of the smells. 
“You’re awake,” a familiar voice says. “Good.”
All the blood in Gregory’s body runs cold. His heart skips several beats. 
The creature- it took him!
But where did it take him? That’s a question Gregory needs to know to plan an escape, but doing so would mean opening his eyes. And the very idea of doing that makes his rapidly beating heartbeat even faster. 
Something sharp pokes Gregory’s cheek. He shrieks, using all his strength to hit whatever it is away from his face.  
“Get away!” He clambers, eyes still firmly shut, for the other side of the bed. He hears whatever it is, come closer, so he continues to crawl even further away. 
You know, in Gregory’s opinion, the one bad thing about Earth is its tendency to follow the law of gravity. 
His hand meets air, and in the brief moment his body weight is held up by that single arm, he loses his balance. He tumbles off the bed, head bouncing off the, what feels like, concrete floor. 
He lays there, opening his eyes from the shock of it all. The room spins, tunneling in and out of focus. He groans, pain slowly catching up with him. The sting in his palms and knees, the radiating pain in his funny bones, and the pounding headache that’s steadily getting worse. 
Just as fast as he’d fallen, he’s picked up again. It’s gentle with him, but moving his head at all makes it hurt worse. He whines. 
“Sorry, sorry,” the creature murmurs. “But that’s what happens when you don’t look where you’re going.”
Gregory whimpers, uncaring of the words being said to him. All he wants is for his head to stop hurting. He can deal with the other pain, but he can’t concentrate with his head pounding. The only relief he can find in the interim is in the arms of a creature that’s sure to eat him.
A hand - is that what it is? Gregory wonders, flinching ever so slightly at the cool contact on his feverish skin - brushes his bangs to the side.  “Not as bad as I thought it would be,” it mutters. It moves its head closer, nuzzling into his hair. “I’ve missed this.” 
Gregory can’t find the energy to fight back. Maybe later but not right now. 
The creature is careful with him, supporting his head when tucking him back into the bed. It sits at his bedside, stroking the side of his head that isn’t injured. And Gregory lets it happen, because what else is he to do? He is but a child, trapped in an unfamiliar place, at the mercy of something far older, and far stronger than he can ever hope to be. 
So, he lays there, eyes growing heavy. Without thinking, one of his arms comes up to grab the thing’s wrist. Not to yank it away or swat at it, but just lightly hold onto it. Like it’s a security blanket or stuffed animal. And the creature lets him, as it continues to brush and stroke his hair until he falls asleep. 
-x-x-x-
Gregory sits on his designated bed, knees folded to his chest. He woke up again, alone, but he couldn’t find the courage to find an exit. Between the darkness on the outer edges of the space - held off by a couple nightlights - and the thought of the creature hiding within that same darkness, he can do nothing but sit and wait. 
He doesn’t have to wait long, because the creature emerges from the shadows once again, holding something wrapped in wax paper. 
It holds the item out to Gregory. Despite its stuck neutral expression, he gets the impression the creature is proud of something. 
“I got you food!” It exclaims. 
Afraid to deny this thing anything, Gregory hesitates for only a moment, taking the wax paper-covered item. He unwraps it to find a sandwich inside. And, by the looks of it, it happens to be Gregory’s favorite. But how would it….
He looks at the creature and forces himself to give a small, grateful smile. One that he hopes it deems satisfactory enough. 
It pats his head, sitting down heavily in a chair beside his bed. 
When did that get there?
“Eat,” it says. 
Gregory takes a tentative bite of the sandwich, both savoring the taste and a little scared it might have been poisoned. 
The creature watches him, eyes unblinking and expression unchanging. He tries to ignore it as best as he can, either looking straight ahead or down at his lap. 
“You left me,” it starts, “and then, you came back.”
Gregory pauses, tensing up. He doesn’t like where this is going. 
“You came back, but then you tricked me.” A clawed hand brushes against his cheek. “You’ve always been a clever boy, Gregory.”
He stares firmly down at his lap, unable to say or do anything but listen. He feels a bit like a puppet in this way, one that’s been left idle. 
“And then your friend visited me.”
A tear runs down his cheek. 
“Oh,” it croons. “I know it hurts when people leave, doesn’t it? Especially when you know they can’t and won’t come back to you on their own?” 
His food slides down his throat, tasteless and lumpy. He feels his hands starting to shake and his bottom lip quivers. Gregory sniffles, dropping his partially eaten sandwich on the wax paper. 
“I- she….you didn’t have to do that to her.”
“I didn’t,” it agrees. “But then, I wouldn’t have seen you again, and that would be a tragedy.”
Agree to disagree. 
Gregory’s eyes water over. He holds his hands over his eyes, both self-conscious and unwilling to look at the vile, nasty thing next to his bedside. 
Large, metal hands comfort him (at least Gregory thinks that’s what it's doing), stroking his hair and wiping the tears from his face the best it can with his face still covered. “Oh, you’ve always had a soft heart,” it murmurs, softly, almost fond. “I think I like this side of you just as much as the other.”
Gregory breathes deeply. His stomach twists. 
By other, does he mean…?
“This side of you is sweet and sensitive.” Its hand rests on his head, lightly pulling on Gregory’s hair. “You’ve been showing this side of you to all the wrong people. People that want to take advantage of you, Gregory. People that don’t deserve your kindness.”
Sobs wrack his body. He shakes his head furiously. “No! No, I don’t! Please!” All common sense is lost in his rising panic. All he can think about are Vanessa and Freddy, worried because he never made it home. He never wanted to worry them.
He wishes he could tell them he’s sorry. 
“Yes,” the thing insists. “Those girls-”
Gregory stiffens. 
“Amanda and Sarah. They hardly acknowledged you. You were nothing to them. Of course, Amanda was worse to you then the other one, but both of them had to suffer. Because of the one girl’s change of heart, I didn’t hurt her as much. Unfortunately, sometimes I get carried away. Sorry.” The creature doesn’t sound sorry at all. In fact, Gregory can imagine the creature would do it again in a heartbeat. 
“N-no,” he whimpers. 
Torn limbs. Bloody walls. 
“But they don't matter now. None of them do. We’ll get you all situated, and then we can discuss Vanessa.”
His blood runs cold. “Leave her alone!” He shouts, finding the strength in his trembling body to stand up for the one person, in spite of everything, that’s been looking after him.
The creature pointedly ignores him. “Of course, she’ll have to be punished, worse than you even. I haven’t decided what to do, though I guess we can plan something once you’re back to being you.” It lets go of his hair, petting the spot gently. “But after that, we’ll all be together again. Just like it’s meant to be.”
--
Chapter 10: Homesick
The last year or so (or approximately one year, six months, three days, four minutes, and forty-six…forty-seven…forty-eight seconds) had been the second longest of Mimic’s existence. Only his best friend’s death had felt like a worse Hell. 
He was beyond angry, at least at first. Anyone would be. But that anger quickly turned to worry. Trapped underground, behind a wall of concrete, there isn’t anything he can do if his son needs him. And Gregory has always been such a tiny, little thing. 
All he could think about, wandering the halls, was all the most terrible, horrible things that could befall Gregory. 
Under his care, he took great pains to ensure his son stayed safe and sound. And outside of a few bumps and bruises and the occasional cold or flu, he succeeded. His son may not have always been happy, having to stay home instead of playing in the Pizzaplex or going to school, but, in the end, he was right to be cautious. 
The thought that something might have happened to Gregory grew larger and larger until he couldn’t ignore it anymore. 
He set in motion a series of events that would bring him closer to his favoritest person in the entire world. 
His son’s best friend, a girl he once encouraged Gregory to “take out” in whichever way he saw fit, came for his son. Which surprised him. Most people would call emergency services before venturing inside a rotting, sinking building. But his son has always had a way about him that attracted unconventional people. 
Despite how everything ended, Mimic holds only the slightest bit of anger when he thinks of her. The girl played her part well, and then she had to go. 
Mimic didn’t particularly feel like sharing. 
Gregory was his. 
He’s always been his. 
He climbed the elevator shaft until he made it to the top. Navigating the Pizzaplex, even as destroyed as it was, was easy for him. Especially with the M.X.E.S. machine shut off. 
Gregory whimpers in his arms, face scrunching up. 
“Shhh…” Mimic pauses for a moment, patting his son’s back and stroking his hair. “It’s okay, Gregory. Dad’s here, dad’s got you, no one’s going to hurt you now.”
His son’s face softens into a more peaceful expression. 
“There, that’s it. Good boy.” He nuzzles his face into the crown of his son’s head. It’d been too long since he was able to do this. Since he could hold him in his arms, ensuring nothing and no one could take him away. 
Mimic moves slowly. This side of town is mostly abandoned, but just in case, he would rather be safe than sorry. 
Thankfully, their new home is nearby. 
He took great pains to decorate his son’s new room. Not with stars like last time, though if Gregory’s good, then maybe he can find some. But with a larger bed. That bed being a dining room table with carefully layered blankets, curtains, and pillows shouldn’t matter. 
He’d carefully chosen his son’s room as well. No one would be able to find him without his say so. 
A squatter, an older man, had been there before him, but Mimic made quick work of him. There’s no place for other people in their home. 
Mimic lays his son down on his new bed, kissing his forehead, and covering him up. Tomorrow will be a long day, but it’s worth it to be with his son again. Gregory’s a stubborn boy, but Mimic's stubborn too. 
He would wear his son down, little-by-little, until only the Gregory he once knew remained. And then, and only then, would he reintroduce him to his old bunny mask. 
He could hardly wait.
-x-x-x-
Vanessa knows there’s something wrong when she returns home to an unlocked front door. Her keys sit, unturned, in the doorknob, jingling as she pushes the door open. The apartment is quiet - quieter than it’s ever been before. 
She leaves the laundry bag in the hallway, fixated on the lack of noise. 
She knows Gregory, and that kid wouldn’t pass up an opportunity to watch TV until the middle of the night. Especially when he’s on forced lockdown. Vanessa stands in the living room. “Gregory?” 
“Hello, Officer Vanessa. I’m very happy you made it home,” Freddy pipes up. 
“Jesus!” Vanessa puts a hand over her heart. “Freddy, what have I told you about sneaking up on me?”
“But I haven’t done any sneaking. I’ve been sitting right here the whole time.”
She sneers at Freddy. “Well, you scared me. Anyways, where’s Gregory?”
Freddy’s ears flatten against his head. 
“Freddy?”
“About that, I let him go to the vigil.”
Her stomach does a flip-flop, and she has to sit down on the couch behind her. 
If he’s out, alone, then that means he’s vulnerable. 
The very idea that Gregory might potentially be kidnapped and subject to all the horrible things they had to endure for several years, makes her nauseous. She rocks back and forth, arms wrapped around her middle. 
“This…this can’t be happening….” 
“I’m sure he’ll be home soon-”
Vanessa cuts him off, suddenly enraged. “You had one job. One. And now Gregory is out there all alone.”
Freddy dismisses her concerns with a wave of a paw. “Officer Vanessa, there’s nothing to be wary about. Gregory is just fine.”
Vanessa stands up, feeling restless, and begins to pace the length of the living room. “You can’t be sure. You can’t be sure that he’ll be okay. That- that he won’t be targeted.”
Freddy doesn’t answer her, instead he says, “go looking for him, then.”
Vanessa pauses pacing, dumbstruck by how nonchalant Freddy’s being. If anyone is closer to Gregory, that knows him better, it’s Freddy. So, the fact that he doesn’t seem to care, hurts more than words can say. It feels like a betrayal, the likes of which she can’t fully put into words. 
“I will,” she says, already halfway to the door. She doesn’t stay to hear what Freddy says in response. There’s nothing left to talk about. If anything happens to Gregory, it’ll be his fault. 
(Just as it would be her fault for leaving him alone). 
Vanessa would move heaven and earth for that boy, maybe even the stars and moon as well. She would do anything and everything to keep him safe; to keep him from experiencing the exact same agony again. 
If she doesn’t find him there’s only one thing left for her to do. 
And, if she does find him, infected once again, that one thing becomes two things. 
She silently prays for the best outcome. That she’ll find Gregory safe and sound, mourning with friends. 
-x-x-x-
The Mimic, as it eventually introduced itself as (Gregory wondered if ‘the’ was its first name or part of a title), continued to bring him suspiciously fresh food. He wonders how he got access to a seemingly unlimited amount of wrapped sandwiches, hot pizza, and warm soup. 
“You’re awake,” it says, once again sitting next to his bedside. His bed, as he’s learned, isn’t so much a bed, but two tables pushed together, overlaid with several layers of old, dusty curtains and heavy blankets.
Gregory doesn’t respond, staring blankly down at his lap. He still doesn’t know where he is. He tried to ask once but was ignored. 
“Aw, please, talk to me. Are you upset?” By the sound of its tone, The MImic isn’t mocking him - for once. It sounds genuinely concerned. 
He decides to give a sliver of truth. “I miss home.”
Something changes in The Mimic’s body language. It tenses up - if such a thing can happen to a robot. 
“Oh?” 
Gregory tries to take it back, but it's already upset. He cowers, grabbing the heaviest blanket and pulling it over himself. 
Outside the little blanket fort, he listens as The Mimic goes on a rampage. The sounds of glass shattering and wood splintering keep him from peeking out. Even when the sounds have stopped, he doesn’t dare poke his head out. 
A hand pats his back. “Sorry,” The Mimic mutters, sincere in a way he’s always thought robots couldn’t be. “Please, come out. I promise I won’t hurt you. I could never hurt you.” But Gregory knows what it means is kill, because it's already hurt him plenty. 
He does, eventually, poke his head out, too scared to disobey. “Sorry,” he whispers. “I didn’t know….” He trails off, voice cracking. 
“I know,” it murmurs, petting his hair. “I know. You’re a sweet boy, Gregory. You’d never hurt me on purpose.” Its fingers seemingly get caught in a tangle. He flinches, enduring the sharp sting of his hair being pulled. “But this is your home now. This has always been your home, with me, and Vanny, once she’s under control. And maybe even Freddy if he can make it here on his own.”
But why would he-
“Gregory,” it starts, hand once again sliding through his locks of messy hair, “I think it’s time.”
His eyes open impossibly wide. He knows whatever that means, it can’t be good. 
Vanessa, please, save me. 
-x-x-x-
Vanessa speeds all the way to the church. By the time she makes it there, car coming to a screeching halt, the vigil is long past over. There’s not a single person left, and the only sign that there had been a vigil at all are two identical memorial spots, filled with stuffed animals, cards, and little knick-knacks. 
She runs a hand down her face, beyond exhausted, but she can’t sleep. Not yet. Not until Gregory is found. 
She hops back into her car.
If I were a murderous creature with attachment issues, where would I be?
Vanessa’s eyes widen. “Abandon building!” She shouts, hand accidentally hitting the car’s horn. But there’s no time to feel bad about it. There are so many abandoned buildings to check, most of them near the old mill, or she thinks, the horror slowly dawning on her, the old laundromat. 
Freddy….? What did you do?
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gregorysarmy · 1 month ago
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Self-Preservation (8)
@gregorysarmy - thank you for reading this. It means a lot <33
Chapter 8: Safe and Sound
--
The sun sets quicker than expected. Large clouds roll in, snuffing out the leftover light. The sky turns an ugly grayish black. 
Gregory’s phone vibrates. He’s halfway to the gathering, and he can almost hear it from where he stands. 
He stops, pulling his phone out. There’s a possibility it’s Vanessa, and he would rather talk to her now than anticipate coming home to a shaky and anxiety-ridden Vanessa. The phone is cool in his hand and against his ear. He waits.
“Hello?” Vanessa starts, “Gregory?”
He inwardly sighs. “Hi, Vanessa.”
“Freddy called me,” she says, barely audible above the tv static-like interference. He strains to hear her. He opens his mouth to mention it, but before he can, the interference is gone. 
“Oh?” He doesn’t want to give anything away, because there’s a slim chance, she’s either bluffing or talking about something entirely different. 
“Yes, I know you’re headed to the candlelight vigil.”
Shit. 
“Freddy,” he mumbles, betrayed. 
“Don’t blame him,” she says, oddly passionate for an animatronic she’s never been particularly fond of. “He’s just doing his job.”
Gregory blinks. Once. Twice. 
Besides occasionally supervising him or helping with his homework, Gregory was under the impression Freddy no longer had a job. Unless she gave him special instructions because of the killer roaming about, but then, why did Freddy let him go in the first place?
“Sorry,” he says. “But I’m still going.”
“I understand,” she says. “I would too. Actually, I think it’s admirable.”
Gregory’s face heats up. “Not-not really.”
“Oh? How come?” 
He has no idea what to say, but it just feels wrong. No one should be praised for doing the bare minimum. And this, attending the vigil, is bottom of the barrel in things Gregory owes those girls and their families. 
“It’s just not. Anyways, I’m almost there, so-”
“Meet me at the laundromat. We can go there together.”
He groans, rolling his eyes. “But I’m already here.” He isn’t. There are two blocks between him and the gathering, but Vanessa doesn’t know that. 
Vanessa turns on her “mom” voice. “Do you want to go home and go to bed?”
Gregory sighs. “No.”
“Then meet me at the laundromat. It’s two streets over on Crystal Lake rd.”
He furrows his eyebrows. “Didn’t that one shut down last year?” He’s heard some of the kids talk about it. Apparently, it was the laundromat that everyone went to, but the owners were getting on in age. So, they sold the business to someone that reopened it on a busier side of town. 
Or was it the other way around? 
He could never remember. 
“No, no, you’re thinking of the old laundromat. The one on Derry St.”
So, he had remembered wrong. Oh, well, it’s happened before, and it’ll happen again. He shrugs. “Okay, I’ll be there in five.” He hangs up.
-x-x-x-
The laundromat is nestled between several abandoned buildings. When the recession hit many, many years ago, a lot of businesses were left to rot. The only business that survived was the laundromat. 
He goes inside. 
The building is very obviously old, with its faded sign, torn awning, and missing washers and dryers. He can tell where each missing washer had been stationed.
It’s devoid of any other people, and the only light on is flickering above the few machines left. He shivers.
Maybe Vanessa got the locations confused .
He reaches for his phone. The vigil will be starting soon, and if she did get the locations wrong, he won’t have time to meet up with her. A dryer starts up unsuspectingly. He cranes his neck, trying to see who started it, but no one’s there. 
He groans, bringing a hand up to his forehead. It buzzes like tv static, blurring his vision. It passes after a minute, but Gregory’s brain is all tingly, like it went to sleep. 
“Vanessa!” He calls out. “I’m here!” 
“I’m in here, Gregory,” she says from a nearby room. The door is closed and there’s no sign indicating what it’s for. 
“What…room is that?” 
“I found something cool. Come see,” she urges, voice bordering on desperate. “Quickly.”
He hesitates. Something feels off about this. This building…it…looks too worn down. But, then again, maybe he’s overthinking this. Maybe everything’s fine and Vanessa really is trying to show him something cool. 
But what if it’s not? What if there’s a reason alarm bells are going off in his head? What if there’s a reason all his baby hairs are standing on end?
He shakes his head. 
That’s ridiculous. 
Cautiously, Gregory creeps closer to the closet. His heart beats against his ribcage, and he feels a little crazy for feeling so wound up and anxious over seemingly nothing. 
He falls to his knees. The static obscures his vision, and the pins and needles sensation has turned into stabbing pains. He rubs the heel of his palms into his eyes, trying and failing to clear it. 
It’s a solid minute of rubbing his eyes and moving his head around to clear his vision before it stops. He sighs in relief, opening the door. 
The room is pitch-black. He can make out an outline of a pull string in the very middle of the room. Gregory walks over to it, balancing on his tiptoes to grab the pull chain. Just as he’s about to pull down, the door closes. 
He lets go of the chain, giving up temporarily on turning the lights on. The room is somehow darker now, and all the supplies stuffed inside makes it feel much, much smaller. His heart beats faster and his stomach turns. 
In the dark everything looks different. The handle of the vacuum and broom look like abnormally thin, boney arms reaching out for him. Bottles of chemicals placed close together look like mouthless faces, watching him with malicious intent. 
He breathes heavily, backing up. His foot trips over a bottle that must have fallen at some point. He falls hard . 
In spite of himself, and all that he’s been through, Gregory cries. Just a little and just enough to ease the dull ache in the back of his head.
“Oh, Gregory,” a voice that sounds nothing like Vanessa, coos. “It’s alright.” 
Gregory screams.
-x-x-x-
Vanessa sighs, leaning against the washers. There aren't a lot of people here today, so most of their laundry is already done. She folded the clothes from the first load - that’s how bored she is. 
About two hours into doing laundry, she gets a feeling in the pit of her stomach. Her anxiety rings loud and strong, and won’t shut up until she makes sure everything’s fine. 
She finally pulls out her phone, dialing the “home phone” (which is a fun way of saying Freddy’s internal processor. Or the thing that allows him to receive calls without owning a phone himself). 
He answers on the first ring. “Hello, Officer Vanessa.”
She breathes a sigh of relief. “Sorry for calling, but how’s Gregory doing?”
“Fine. He’s right where he belongs, safe and sound.”
Vanessa is struck by the oddity of that statement. It feels unnatural, but she lets it slide. Freddy has always been a bit odd. “Oh. Good, good. Thanks again Freddy.”
“It’s no problem. Finish up that laundry and get home safe.”
“Will do, Goodbye.”
“Goodbye.”
Freddy hangs up. He stares at the empty couch across from him. 
Gregory’s safe and sound alright - back where he belongs.
-x-x-x-
Gregory’s heart skips a beat or two, and it takes his brain a minute to process what’s happening. 
Whoever this is, he isn’t going down without a fight. This man- he stops mid-thought. Tentatively, Gregory summons all his courage and reaches behind him. 
Wha-
His fingers brush against metal. Not skin. Metal . It’s warm to the touch, but not as warm as a person might be.
In a shaky voice, bordering on strained, Gregory says, “who-who’s there?” 
Something comes up to stroke his face (its fingers?) and brush his bangs back. “I’ve missed you, my little star.” 
His heart drops into his stomach. Two sides of his brain seem to be at odds. One part of him - a small, unremarkable part - remembers whoever’s stroking his hair, but a larger, more prominent, part of him can’t recall anything at all. 
It can’t be….
 “Cassie sends her regards.” It - because it’s not human, it can’t be - laughs. It drops its hand from Gregory’s face, ruffling his hair.
He feels like all the wind got knocked out of him. Memories of Cassie, buried under heaps of other, lesser memories, resurface. They burn his brain, branding it with loss the size of an ocean. 
She had been so, so kind. Kinder than he deserved. And she put up with the side of Gregory that makes his stomach twist if he thinks about it for longer than a few seconds. 
Despite everything he’s put her through, she still went to save him, and what did she get in return? 
A horrible, awful death befitting no one, especially Cassie. 
His eyes water over. “She- you didn’t….” he trails off, body trembling like a leaf. He hugs himself, seeking comfort. The static returns, oddly soothing despite the earlier pain. 
It tsks . “I know this must be so confusing, but there’s no reason to be scared. Once we get home - our new home - I can explain more. You’ll like it. I already have your room…”
Gregory drowns the creature out, stumbling forward, and lunging for the door handle. He manages to grab hold of it, but he’s pulled back by his shirt collar. It digs into his windpipe, strangling him. 
He flails about. The door handle slips from his grasp as he does everything in his power to get the creature to let go. He yanks furiously on his shirt collar. No sounds come out, muffled by his airway being cut off. 
Just as his vision starts to blur, the creature lets him go. He sags, bringing a hand up to rub his throat. “No, no, little star. It’s not time to play tag.” He’s scooped up and held like a baby. Gregory goes limp, afraid if he pushes this thing too far it’ll hurt him really, really bad.
The creature makes a chattering noise. “Good,” it murmurs, bringing his head closer to its chest, holding him there for a moment in a weird facsimile of a hug. 
It’s a long while before the creature lets go, and even then, it refuses to let him go. He can’t bring himself to make any more noise. All the sounds he wants to make are trapped tight in his throat. 
“It’s been such a long time,” it says, moving towards the door, “I almost thought I wouldn’t see you again, just like-” It cuts itself off. “I’m just glad you’re home.”
Gregory has to blink his eyes a few times to adjust to the flickering light. Against his will, his body relaxes further. His eyes grow heavy, and his brain feels all fuzzy. The static  buzzing in his head and obscuring his vision, soothes him to sleep. 
“Sweet dreams,” the creature murmurs. The last thing Gregory sees before sleep claims him is, what he can only assume, a demon coming to swallow him whole. Its face comes closer and closer.
All of Gregory’s energy disappears, and he resigns himself to being eaten. His limbs feel too heavy to move anyway, so it’s not like he can fight his way out of this thing’s arms, let alone make it outside. 
He yawns, head lolling to the side, right against the creature’s chest. 
Gregory’s eyes close. 
“Goodnight,” the creature murmurs, soft and sweet and barely above a whisper.
10 notes · View notes
gregorysarmy · 1 month ago
Text
Self-Preservation (5-7)
Trigger warnings: mental illness, hints of past abuse, deceit, and unstable caregiver(s), mentioned/reference child death, referenced graphic depictions of violence, and semi-isolation.
@gregorysarmy - sorry in advance for the long post 😅
Chapter 5: Sarah
--
It’s raining. The cool droplets of water soak Gregory’s hair as he trudges to the bus stop. He’s half-a-block away from the bus stop when a familiar car pulls up beside him. 
Vanessa looks unusually wide awake. “Get in the car,” she says, leaving no room for arguing. 
Gregory tries anyway, “I’m fine. I’m almost to the bus stop.”
“Gregory,” she warns, using that voice mom’s use with their misbehaving children.
He bristles, but he’s in no shape to argue back. He climbs into the passenger seat, buckling his seatbelt, and slumping over his backpack. Pouting never got him anywhere, and it certainly never worked on Vanessa (that’s a boldfaced lie, it’s worked plenty, especially for extra bowls of ice cream). And judging by her face, it’s definitely not going to work now. 
She makes a u-turn, nearly hitting the curb in the process, and starts driving in the opposite direction of his school. 
“Where are we going?’ He asks. ���This isn’t-”
“I’m aware,” Vanessa cuts him off. “You’re staying home today.”
“But I-”
“Don’t argue with me on this, Gregory, okay?” Vanessa pleads with him. Her voice is shaky, and her hands are white knuckling the steering wheel.
His stomach twists. 
What happened?
“What’s going on?”
She hesitates a second too long. “Nothing.”
“You took a second.”
Vanessa sighs, obviously trying to hide her nervousness. She takes a hand off the wheel to rub her eyes. “Maybe because I’m exhausted. I have to work in three hours, and I think it’s better if you stay home today. So, please…”
Gregory decides to let it go, at least for now. Vanessa is shaken up enough without him adding to her stress levels. “Okay. I’ll stay home.” Not that he has a choice, but his words seem to calm her down slightly. The tension in her shoulders is visibly lessened. 
“Good. Thank you.”
They ride home in silence. The muffled sounds of AM radio fill the quiet. 
-x-x-x-
Freddy is still charging when they get back to the apartment. Vanessa mumbles something about getting some more sleep before heading to her bedroom. 
Gregory sits on the couch and turns the TV on. It’s seven in the morning on a Thursday, so there’s hardly anything to watch. He sifts through several variations of the same reality tv show, several more variations of the same cable tv show plotline, and a few dozen infomercials selling things that neither he, nor Vanessa need. He stops on an older cartoon that he can mindlessly watch until Vanessa wakes up for real, or Freddy’s done charging. 
By the third episode, he’s struggling to stay awake. His eyes are heavy and the achiness from earlier this morning still hasn’t subsided. The couch is a lot more comfortable than the bathroom floor and bathtub. He uses the throw blanket they leave on the couch for this very purpose, wrapping himself in warm wool. 
Just as his eyes are about to slide shut, his phone vibrates. He’s left it next to him on the couch, out of habit. He groans, trying to ignore it, but it vibrates again. 
Annoyed, he swipes up. His eyes widen. This- this can’t be happening. In front of him are texts somewhat similar in nature to Amanda’s, but it’s not Amanda. 
It’s Sarah. 
-x-x-x-
Gregory looks down at the messages Sarah sent him.
      Thurs, Oct 1st at 8:15 AM
     Sarah: so srry 4 yesterday.
       Thurs, Oct 1st at 8:20 AM
      Sarah: but i ned to tty. Come over to my house after skool. 1428 roslin rd. Can’t miss it!!!
And then up at the large house in front of him. It’s smaller than Amanda’s but compared to the tiny apartment Vanessa and him share, it looks like a mansion.
 Flowers grow along the brick pathway to the porch. Lily of the valleys hide amongst the shade of the large oak tree. Irises, zinnias, and freesias line the rest of the way. Some of them have already started to wilt, the fall chill zapping all their energy. 
He hesitates on the bottom step. There are no cars in the driveway, which means there’s a chance this could end the same way. With him leaving, unaware of any lurking danger, and with Sarah and her family meeting an untimely fate. 
It’s an irrational thought. Most parents work late. Hell, Vanessa usually works late, which is how he got away with leaving the apartment in the first place. He winces, feeling bad for lying to Freddy who thinks he’s at the local arcade (the same arcade that hasn’t existed since the mid-2000s). 
But still, if Sarah wanted to talk to him in-person, then it must be important. And despite all the differences between them, Gregory feels as though he owes her that much. 
He rings the doorbell twice before anyone answers the door. 
“Hi,” Sarah says. She joins him on the porch, closing the door behind her. 
“What did you need to talk about? You said you had something to show me?” Gregory feels bad for being so pushy, but it’s already four-oh-five. And Vanessa gets off work at five. 
Sarah gestures for the stoop. “Let’s sit.” 
He does, legs dangling over the edge. Sarah wraps her arms around herself, staving off the slight chill. 
“First off,” she starts, “I really am sorry for yesterday. I was upset. You didn’t deserve that.”
Gregory opens his mouth to speak, but Sarah continues on. “But you have to understand where I was coming from.”
Part of him already knows this is going to make him feel worse, but it’s not like he can force her to stop speaking. She has every right to get whatever closure she needs. 
“You just started here this year, didn’t talk to anyone unless necessary, became Amanda’s lab partner, and were the last person to see her alive.”
Without thinking he blurts out, “technically I didn’t.” Seeing the confusion on Sarah’s face, he quickly adds, “see her alive, I mean.”
“You went to her house.”
“She told- well, texted me that I should take the report from her desk. I was about to, but I had a small emergency at home.”
Sarah looks down. Her fingers are neatly interlaced and clasped in her lap. “Then that means she could have already been dead.” 
Gregory jolts as if slapped. That’s the last thing he wants to hear, because if Amanda was already dead, then who texted him?
Sarah must be a mindreader, because the next thing she says is, “then she couldn’t have texted you. Which means-”
He interupts, ripping the bandaid off. “Which means someone else did instead.”
A car pulls into the driveway, and a woman that looks remarkably like Sarah gets out. She smiles at Gregory. “Oh, I didn’t know we had a guest over.” She looks at Sarah. “Is he staying for dinner? I’m making chicken tikka masala.” 
As good as that sounds to Gregory, he’s already pushing it. He looks at Sarah, hoping she’ll understand. 
He’s not that lucky. 
“Yes.”
Gregory inwardly sighs, making peace with the lecture of the century he’s going to get. He smiles at Sarah’s mom. “It’s very nice to meet you.”
-x-x-x-
Mrs. Sah - which he learns is Sarah’s last name - is gracious and kind. He also learns that Mrs. Sah is quite the talker. Sarah and he stand in the kitchen, helping as much as her mom allows. 
Mrs. Sah offers up stories about India and moving countries and her marriage to a fourth-generation Indian American and all the difficulties that come with that. She talks extensively about her daughter, smiling fondly. Sarah’s face is beet red by the time dinner’s done, and she has a hard time looking at Gregory. 
Dinner is delicious, maybe the best he’s ever had. 
“My husband works late,” Mrs. Sah explains, gesturing to the empty seat. “But I’m sure he’d like to meet you.”
Uncertain of what to say, he smiles. 
Sarah thankfully jumps in for him. “He has to go soon. His parents are like really strict.”
Parent, he thinks to himself. But she’s not wrong. 
“She’s right, Mrs. Sah. Dinner was lovely, thanks for having me.”
“It’s no big deal. Do you need a ride home?”
“No, but thank you for offering.”
“Alright. Get home safe.”
Gregory smiles, heading for the front door. “Thanks again. And, uh, see you at school, Sarah.”
Even though he’s in for it when he gets home, at least dinner made it all worth it. For a brief moment in time, he felt like a normal kid. 
He opens the door, jacket halfway on. There, on the front porch, with one hand raised to the doorbell, is Vanessa. 
“Weird look for an arcade, don’t you think?"
---
Chapter 6: Justified Breakdown
--
The car ride home is silent. Vanessa stares straight ahead, fixated on the road. But every so often, like clockwork, she glances at him as if thinking he might disappear mid car ride. There’s tension in her shoulders, like she’s anticipating something awful.
The closer they get to the apartment, the more the butterflies in his stomach flutter around, and the more Vanessa seems to relax some. 
Some being the keyword. He has no doubts that it’s going to be a long night. He can only hope Vanessa’s in a forgiving mood tonight, though luck is very rarely on his side. 
She parks the car. “We’re home,” she says, as though Gregory has gone blind. 
He blinks at her, both confused and concerned.
Gregory shrugs, reaching for the door handle. His hand hurts. He holds it to his chest, glaring at Vanessa. “What was that for?”
Vanessa blinks slowly, seemingly unaware herself why she slapped his hand. “You can’t go out there by yourself. The murderer-”
“Isn’t likely to get us. I mean, statistically speaking the likelihood of the killer circling back is slim-to-none.”
“I would say higher than that.”
Gregory squints. While not impossible, he’s pretty sure he’s right. Of course, there’s the matter of the killer maybe texting him, but they likely just wanted to scare him. In the event he’s wrong, though, the killer doesn’t know where he lives. Unlike Amanda, he never told her where he lived. 
But Vanessa’s very obviously going through something, and Gregory wouldn’t be who he is if he didn’t help her out in some way shape or form. 
“Fine. Can we go inside, together ?”
Vanessa hesitates, shaking her head yes. 
She glances all around, keeping an eye out for the apparent killer that’s coming for them, all the way to their apartment. 
Vanessa only relaxes when the last lock clicks into place. Her forehead rests against the door as she catches her breath. 
“I was worried about you.” Her voice is strained, and when she finally looks at him, her face is ruddy and wet. “I thought something happened to you.”
“Why?”
Vanessa opens her mouth and then quickly shuts it. “Tha- there’s a murderer out and about.”
“I’m sorry,” he says. “But I needed to give Sarah closure, Vanessa. Amanda was her best friend. Besides, she asked me-”
“I was worried about you.” Her voice is strained, and when she finally looks at him, her face is ruddy and wet. “I, honest to God, thought something happened to you.”
“Why would-”
He’s harshly interrupted. “Because, like I said in the car, there’s a killer at large. I-I thought it- they took you, and I didn’t know what to do, or who to call. Gregory, I can’t put into words how terrified I was of losing you.”
The butterflies in his stomach return with a vengeance. He instantly feels bad. It hadn’t been his intention to cause her distress. All he wanted to do is talk to Sarah and make her feel somewhat better about his involvement. 
“Sorry,” he murmurs, bowing his head. “I didn’t know.”
 “I know, but never mind that. What’s important is that we don’t leave the apartment until the killer is found."
“Vanessa, we can’t-”
“I’ve cashed in all my PTO, and I went to your school and got permission for you to do your work here.”
“But-”
“If we stay here, ration our food, and keep our heads down, then they won’t find us.”
Gregory puts his hands up in a placating motion. He’s like ninety percent sure his guardian has finally broken down, but he still needs her. Freddy is terrible at telling him no and making him do things like go to school or the dentist. 
“Vanessa,” he says, voice strained from all the tears he’s holding back. “Please, stop.” Gregory isn’t someone who scares easily, but hearing all this, makes it feel too real. “I don’t want to isolate myself.”
“I know,” Vanessa sympathizes with him, “but this way we’ll be safe. This way it can’t use us against each other.”
 “What?”
Something crosses her face. A look, a flash in her eyes, like she’s jolting back to full awareness. She shakes her head. “Nothing. Nothing. I just meant, if they kidnap you, then I’ll have to pay a ransom. And we don’t have ransom money laying around.” She laughs to herself, nervously twisting her hair around her fingers. 
“But what if they kidnap you?”
Vanessa stares at him blankly. The thought of the inverse happening clearly hadn’t occurred to her. “They won’t.”
“Why?”
She shrugs. “I don’t know, they just won’t. But what I do know is that we'll be safe here. As long as we don’t leave.”
“Okay,” Gregory agrees, though he wants so badly to argue more. But Vanessa is clearly done for tonight, and it’s only - he discretely looks at his phone - seven-oh-one. 
Vanessa glances at his phone. She grabs it from his hand. 
“Hey! Why’d you take it?”
She does something he can’t see, before handing it back. “I turned off your location. It’ll make us harder to track down. Also, don’t message anyone. You don’t know who's on the other end.”
Gregory shudders. 
Just like Amanda.
“Understood.”
“Good,” she says. “I’m going to go lay down, but tomorrow we can do something fun, like watch a movie and cook some popcorn. How does that sound?”
“Sounds like a plan.” He smiles. “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight,” Vanessa tells him, almost fondly. “See you in the morning.”
“See ya.”
Only after he hears Vanessa’s bedroom door close does he turn to Freddy who’s been sitting in a chair in the corner. He fidgets, nervously wringing his hands. 
“Sorry, Freddy," Gregory apologizes, rubbing the back of his neck “But I had to go see my friend.”
“It’s fine,” Freddy says, always so forgiving. “I understand. Can we finish watching that cartoon from earlier? I’m curious to see how it ends.”
“Sure, if it’s still on.”
-x-x-x-
Freddy has to recharge again before the episode’s even over - a downside to using a car battery is the shortened battery life. 
Gregory lays on the couch. Back to the same place he was several hours before. His arm dangles over the edge of the couch, and he’s once again almost asleep when his phone vibrates. He goes to grab it but remembers what Vanessa said. 
He turns his phone off. Maybe they can look at the message together tomorrow or something. His eyes grow heavy and before he can get up and go to his bedroom, he’s fast asleep.
-x-x-x-
   Thurs, Oct 1st at 8:25 PM
Sarah: Greg? r u outside?
 Thurs, Oct 1st at 8:25 PM
Sarah: plz answer. Im scared
 Thurs, Oct 1st at 8:27 PM
Sarah: I cant c u. but stop knocking. my mom is coming to let you in
  Thurs, Oct 1st at 8:29 PM
Sarah: …..
---
Chapter 7: Boiling Point
The stillness of the living room - especially at… Gregory glances at his phone with bleary eyes, except it’s still turned off - is beyond eerie. He yawns, stretching his sore limbs (apparently sleeping on the couch isn’t the most comfortable - who knew?) Freddy’s powered off in the corner, his head bowed. 
The TV is still on, though instead of cartoons, the late-night news is on. They’re covering a story about a bake sale happening downtown tomorrow. Gregory feels his energy actively deplete, and he returns to his previous position on the couch. As much as his body’s sore, it hurts his soul even more to stand up and walk all the way to his room. 
He curls up on his side, hand pillowing his head. Eyes starting to close against his will, Gregory watches the news to get to sleep faster. 
The newscasters' expressions seem shocked. They exchange a look with one another before reporting on Amanda’s murder, but then they stop. The woman reporter clears her throat. “Another murder has allegedly taken place tonight-”
Gregory is shaken back to full awareness. He doesn’t stop to see anything more. He doesn’t need to. 
He sprints to Vanessa’s bedroom, bursting through the door, and hopping onto her bed. As per usual when he’s being intentionally annoying or trying to wake her up (most of the time those things aren’t mutually exclusive), she swats at him, mumbling something about throwing him out a window. But tonight is different, he has reason and purpose in waking her up.
“Wake up, Vanessa,” he says, patting her back. “It’s important.”
“Mmn gah….” 
“ Vanessa , I’m serious.”
“Sure, you can sleep here. Nightmares are bad,” is her very garbled reply. She laughs to herself, barely awake and growing less awake the longer Gregory sits there. 
“Vanessa!” He shouts, getting to his feet. He balances on the bed, being mindful not to step on Vanessa, jumping up and down. 
She groans, propping herself up on her elbow. She turns her lamp on, turning back to glare daggers at him. “Stop!” She grabs on tightly to his wrist. 
Gregory plops down on the bed, sitting crisscross applesauce. “Vanessa, I’m sorry, but it’s important.”
“It better be.” She yawns, rubbing her eyes. “To wake me up at-” she looks at her alarm clock. “11:00 pm.”
“There's been another murder,” Gregory says, speaking fast because Vanessa looks absolutely exhausted. 
Vanessa, much like he did not five minutes before, comes to full awareness. All the tiredness fades from her eyes, and she grabs onto Gregory. “Who?” She asks. 
Gregory swallows hard. He’d been in such a rush he hadn’t looked. “I-I don’t know.”
She lets him go. Vanessa grabs her phone, and begins typing furiously. 
Gregory sits on her bed, unsure of what to do or say.  But he knows whatever is going through her head can’t be good. 
Vanessa’s phone drops from her hands, and she’s quick to pick it back up and turn it off. She moves so fast, Gregory hardly gets a chance to see the screen. He blinks.
There’s a tension in the air that gets worse and worse with every second Vanessa doesn’t explain. He’s the first one to break the silence, unable to bear it any longer. 
“What happened?”
She sits up. “Gregory, I- something really, really bad has happened, and I want you to know it’s okay to cry or be angry or whatever else.”
He nods.
What kind of news warrants this kind of reaction? Did someone drop a nuclear bomb? Are they about to die?
Vanessa takes a deep breath, steadying herself. “Last night, your classmate, Sarah and her family were attacked.”
His heart drops into his stomach. 
“She’s in critical condition at the hospital, but her parents they-they were found mutilated beyond comprehension.”
He gags but nothing comes up. The room spins, and he struggles to get off her bed. His thoughts are racing - why them? Could I have saved them? Is this my fault? - they’re so loud that he can’t focus on anything else. Not even Vanessa who’s gotten out of bed as well and is following him down the hall. 
Her voice is calling out to him, begging him to look at her, to talk to her. But he can’t, even if he wanted to. He doubts if he speaks any sounds will come out. 
Gregory’s heart beats fast, and all he can hear above his thoughts is the blood rushing through his ears. The rhythmic ba-dum ba-dum ba-dum follows him into his room. He shuts the door in Vanessa’s face and climbs into bed. 
He pulls his comforter over his head, curling into a tight, little ball. It’s stuffy and a little uncomfortable, but it also feels safe and that’s all he wants. To be safe. Right now he feels the opposite of that. More than guilt and shame and sadness and anger, he feels scared. More than he should, and he doesn’t understand why. 
His eyes water over and tears run down his cheeks. He sniffles, not bothering to wipe them away. His throat feels tight, like someone is actively squeezing it. 
All he can think about is Sarah in the ICU, now an orphan, and who knows what condition she’s in. And it’s all his-
FAULT!
-x-x-x-
Sarah, as expected, passes a few days later. Her funeral is planned for a week after Amanda’s, and the school holds a candlelight vigil for both. 
Gregory begs to go, but Vanessa is more insistent than ever that they don’t leave the apartment. She’s left once to get some more food at the store, but besides that, they’ve been stuck in here for days. 
He feels a little stir-crazy. Every minute drags on. He finished his homework for the next two months in the first two days, and now he’s stuck doing nothing. But he’s stayed and put up with Vanessa’s persistent paranoia, and all he wants to do is go outside for a few hours to a vigil for two girls that were briefly associated with him and then promptly lost their lives. He owes them that much. 
But Vanessa will not budge. Not even a little bit. He even offered to hold her hand during the ceremony, so they’d be “safer,” but she refused. 
“I need to go.”
“No,” she says, gathering the laundry. Her tone is short, and Gregory knows it’s because of him. This is the tenth-thousandth time he’s asked, and this is the tenth-thousandth time she’s pointedly told him “no.”
“ Vanessa ,” he whines, lightly stomping his feet. He feels stuck and helpless, like a small child still totally reliant on their caregiver. 
“ Gregory ,” she mocks him. “Now, go. I have to get the laundry to the laundromat before it closes.”
He huffs, crossing his arms, but leaves the room. 
Gregory sits on the couch in the living room. Freddy’s watching a Hallmark movie - one of his favorite channels - and Gregory watches with him. Anything to keep his mind from wandering. 
Vanessa hoists a bag full of their dirty clothes over her shoulder. The coins in her pocket jingle with each step. “I’ll be back. Be good,” she says, addressing Gregory. 
He ignores her, trying to suppress his disappointment and rage. 
She continues, “I’ll be back in a few hours.”
It’s not until he hears the front door close that he pulls out his phone. He looks at the schoolwide invitation of the candlelight vigil again. It’s held at a church nearby the school at eight-ten-pm. 
He glances at the time.
7:45 .
If I hurry-
He cuts that particular thought off. Vanessa very obviously wanted him to stay put for a reason.
If it’s so important, then why can she leave, and I can’t? 
Gregory tries so hard to focus on the movie, but all he can think about is the vigil. He’s not invited to their funerals, so this is his last chance to say goodbye and apologize for whatever his part was in their deaths. 
It’s then that he notices several unread messages that he hadn’t bothered to check earlier. 
He sits upright when he sees they’re from Sarah. He scrolls through her texts, back and forth and back and forth, again and again until his thumb gets sore. 
They only exchanged a total of nine texts.
Two for Amanda’s address. 
Three for her address and an apology. 
….and the last four….where she seems scared. 
He stares at the phone screen for a very long time. Long enough that Freddy says, “Gregory, are you alright?’
“I’m fine, Freddy.” He’s not. He’s really, really not. But saying anything else would mean admitting everything he’s holding inside, and that will only make him feel worse. 
“Okay, but know you can always talk to me.”
He knows that.
Does he know that?
Gregory brushes him off. “Like I said, I’m fine .”
“That’s good,” Freddy says, taking him at face value. He returns to watching the movie. 
But Gregory’s need to attend that vigil only intensifies with every passing moment. He tries his very best to ignore it, but all he can think about are those texts. 
Finally, unable to curb his guilt, Gregory hops up from the couch. “Can I get some fresh air?”
Freddy looks at him and then at the front door. “But Officer Vanessa said you had to stay here”
Inwardly, he rolls his eyes. Leave it to Freddy to selectively follow rules. 
“I know, but I just want to step outside for five minutes. I’ve been cooped up for days , Freddy.”
Freddy tilts his head in consideration. “All the guides I have access to say fresh air is good for people, especially growing kids.”
Gregory forces a smile. “ Exactly .”
“Hm…as long as you promise to be back inside by 8:30.”
“Deal!” Gregory bolts for the door, shoving his phone in his pocket. He hurriedly puts on his coat and unlocks the door at record speeds. 
“Be careful,” Freddy warns him. “It’s supposed to get dark by 8:25 tonight.”
Gregory side eyes him. “I will.”
He closes the door behind him. 
Vanessa won’t be home for another few hours, he reasons. I’ll be back before that. 
11 notes · View notes
gregorysarmy · 1 month ago
Text
Self-Preservation (4)
Trigger warnings: Emetophobia, self-blame, and graphic (but brief) depictions of the aftermath of torture and murder.
(To avoid the emetophobia trigger it starts with "Gregory lurches" and ends with "His skin is feverish and warm.")
@gregorysarmy
Chapter 4: Hold It Together
---
By the time the school bell rings, Gregory is barely holding it together. He stumbles from Spanish in a daze. The hallway is full of people, students going to their lockers and chatting with friends, and teachers watching from their classroom doors. 
He makes it to Vanessa’s car without crying (somehow). She greets him warmly, “hey, kid. How’s school?” 
Gregory breathes through his nose. He doesn’t want to cry. It’s embarrassing, and it’s even more embarrassing because he doesn’t understand why he wants to cry. Amanda wasn’t his friend, and she was barely a lab partner. But for some reason every time he thinks of her, all he can imagine are bloody walls and torn limbs. 
The images are seared into his brain, and even though he tells himself it’s not real, that he didn’t see what actually happened, it feels too real. 
He holds his backpack like a security blanket. 
“Fine,” he mutters. 
Vanessa frowns, side eyeing him. “This is about Amanda, isn’t it?”
Mutely, Gregory nods. 
“We can swing by her house if you want?”
Bloody walls. Torn limbs. 
He shudders. “No, thank you.”
Gregory could go a thousand years without ever seeing that house again. As tragic as it is, he refuses to concern himself with it any further. Amanda didn’t deserve what happened, but it’s been eight hours and he’s already started going insane. 
-x-x-x-
When they get home, he goes straight to bed. 
Right now he just wants to sleep off the sick, icky feeling that follows each reminder of Amanda and whatever her fate may have been. 
He curls up under his blankets, and wraps his arms around himself. The quiet murmur of television in the living room and muffled outside noises soothe him. His breathing deepens, and he nuzzles his face into the pillow. 
And before he knows it, he’s fast asleep…
Gregory pants, sitting upright. The shirt he forgot to change out of from school clings to him with cold sweat. The apartment beyond his bedroom walls is quiet, unnaturally so. He can imagine Vanessa passed out in her bed, and Freddy in the living room, hooked up to an old car battery and some jumper cables. 
He runs his fingers through his hair, trying to remember his nightmare. It escapes him, though the fear remains, lingering just out of his reach.
Gregory reaches for his phone. Maybe there’s more information on Amanda and her family. Their town is relatively tiny, so someone should’ve picked up on it by now. The local Newspaper is sometimes worse than the paparazzi, hunting for new, interesting stories. 
You can only write about bingo nights and elementary school students receiving awards for so long before people stop buying your paper. 
Usually, he’s disgusted by their predatory behavior, but tonight, if it helps ease his mind, then maybe it’s okay - just this once. 
And just as he predicted an article pops up regarding a recent family massacre. The details are sparse, but Gregory gets the gist of it. Even with little-to-no-details, he’s left nauseous and uneasy. He moves on to their town’s other , somehow, much more predatory news site. 
BEAWARE.COM  is a crime blog run by, what Gregory can only assume, are a group of basement dwelling conspiracy theorists with too much time on their hands. But they usually share details that the local paper is too afraid to mention. 
And, once again, he finds what he’s looking for. 
It’s the first article on their site. He clicks on the link. The photo they used is a picture of the house with police cars stationed everywhere.
“ Today, September 30th, emergency services received a call when a neighbor of the Wright family (pictured below) smelled something rotting near the house.”
Gregory skims the article. He stops suddenly, struck by one line in particular. 
“ ....the walls were allegedly covered in blood, and their limbs were found in nice, neat piles. Their heads placed atop their torn limbs…”
Gregory lurches forward, dropping his phone. He tumbles off his bed, landing on his knees. His stomach twists and turns, imagining the act being carried out. Bile begins to rise higher and higher. 
He clasps a firm hand over his mouth to keep from throwing up, and stumbles his way to the bathroom. 
He barely makes it, resting his face on the toilet seat. Thoughts of how clean the toilet seat might be is the furthest thing from his mind. All he can picture is Amanda’s last moments. How absolutely terrifying that must have been. 
His skin is feverish and warm, and all he wants to do is rest for a hundred-thousand years. Only concern for Vanessa’s deposit for the apartment keeps him from trying to leave. Gregory remains there, trying to catch his quickening breath. 
Eventually, once the worst of the nausea eases up, he slumps against the bathtub. He rests his face on the outer ring, letting his free arm, not pillowing his head, hang over the side. He closes his eyes, intent on not falling asleep, but just resting his eyes and easing the rest of the sick feeling before going back to bed.
His eyes grow heavier and heavier. Gregory yawns, eyes sliding closed. 
-x-x-x-
The bathroom light burns his eyes, assaulting his senses the moment he wakes up. He groans, holding a hand over his eyes. Slowly, Gregory removes himself from the floor. 
He groans, holding a hand over the back of his neck. A few hours hunched over did his neck and back no favors. It’s almost enough to distract him from the leftover acidic taste of bile in the back of his mouth. 
The room spins when he stands. He leans against the wall, catching his breath. 
Maybe I should stay home today…?
But then he thinks of how suspicious Sarah already is of him, and how she’s a gossip just like Amanda. It won’t affect him any if she runs her mouth. At worst, people will tease him about, but they already tease him about his size, his choppy hair, and a billion other things. 
Besides, Amanda’s death isn’t his fault. As guilty as he feels right now, it’s only because he was the last person to enter the house before the family was murdered. 
He resolves to go to school. If not to avoid more teasing and whispering behind his back, then to keep his perfect attendance. 
It’s not like things can get any worse, right?
Right….?
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gregorysarmy · 1 month ago
Text
PEAKKKK
Self-Preservation (3)
Trigger warnings: Mentioned/referenced and offscreen child death, mentions of gore, Some minor codependency, and mental health issues.
@gregorysarmy - You got it right :)
Chapter 3: Amanda
--
It’s the middle of the night when Gregory jolts awake in his bed. His head throbs, and no matter how hard he tries, he cannot recall how he got here. He remembers brushing his teeth and then…
He groans, rolling onto his side to look at his phone. Gregory sighs, relieved he had the foresight to plug his phone in. 
Turning his phone on, Gregory is met with a barrage of texts. All of which are from his lab partner. He sits up, scrolling through the messages. 
             Tues, Sept 29th at 9:00 PM
Amanda: How are you feeling?
           Tues, Sept 29th at 9:05 PM
Amanda: Gregory?
                 Tues, Sept 29th at 9:06 PM
Amanda: I’m worried about you. 
           Tues, Sept 29th at 9:07 PM
Amanda: Text back!!!!!!!
                 Tues, Sept 29th at 9:10 PM
Amanda: Don’t make me call Vanessa 😠!!!!!!!
He’s taken back. This- this doesn’t sound like his lab partner at all. Are all girls like this? No, that’s not right. Gregory has interacted with enough girls to know this level of obsessiveness is only for cute boys and shady boyfriends. Not to mention Amanda and him aren’t even friends. The last time they spoke was when partners were assigned, and she looked two seconds away from throwing up at the mere thought of working with him. 
Don’t get him wrong, Amanda’s pretty in the most conventional way possible. She has blonde hair that’s straight as a ruler and vibrant blue eyes. 
But, to be frank, Gregory hates working with her. He actually hates working with other people in general, but working with Amanda is akin to pulling teeth. She’s difficult, stubborn, and worst of all, absent. 
He reads through the texts again. Temples throbbing, Gregory decides to put his phone down for the night. Surely, she can wait a few more hours for a response. She probably got into her parents’ liquor cabinet.
Drifting off to sleep, one thought plagues Gregory:
How does she know Vanessa’s name?
-x-x-x-
In the morning he’s woken up by, of all people, Vanessa. Her long blonde hair tickles his nose. 
He rubs his eyes. “Why are you here?” It comes out ruder than he intended, so he backtracks. “I mean-”
Vanessa seems unphased, cutting him off. “How are you feeling?” She sits on the edge of his bed. 
“My head hurts.”
“Yeah….I heard you scream last night and found you unconscious on the bathroom floor. Is there anything you want to talk about?”
This feels like a trap. Vanessa has never willingly gotten up in the morning, and she has certainly never offered to “talk about” anything. Not that she hasn’t tried before, but both of them are far too broken and lost in life to know where to start. And now here she is, playing Nancy Grace. 
He thinks of telling her about the mirror, but it sounds more and more ridiculous the longer he thinks about it. Instead, he mutters, “don’t laugh, but I saw a spider.”
Vanessa wrinkles her nose. “Ah, that will do it. Spiders are gross.”
Gregory gives her a small, strained smile. Anything to keep her from asking anymore questions. Outside of their shared trauma, Vanessa has her own problems to deal with. He doesn’t want to burden her. 
His mind then goes to Amanda and her weird behavior last night. If anyone can tell him about girls, it’s Vanessa. 
“Hey, Vanessa?”
‘Hm?” 
The sun has started to rise. Its light casts an orangish glow across the  bedroom walls. Vanessa blinks furiously at the sudden onslaught of bright light. 
“My lab partner is obsessed with me or something, and I need to know if that’s normal.”
Vanessa shrugs, using one of her hands as a visor. “Depends. Have they expressed any desire in you before?”
“No.”
“Then, maybe you made them laugh or something.”
Gregory shakes his head. “No, that’s not it. Amanda hasn’t been to school in over a week. She wasn’t thrilled about being paired with me either.”
Vanessa shrugs again. “No idea, kiddo. People are complicated.”
“Yeah.” They both know that from personal experience. 
-x-x-x-
Gregory already knows it’s going to be a long day when the bus is ten minutes late to pick them up. Apparently, there was a minor collision along the bus route, and the police blocked off most of the street. The bus driver is apologetic and nicer than usual. 
And then, his math teacher decided to collect homework first thing. Homework Gregory decided to put off until today. He slumps onto his desk, reluctantly allowing his teacher to grab his unfinished homework. 
 It doesn’t get any better from there, English is long, and so is history. To make matters worse, Amanda still isn’t in class. Even his science teacher seems worried about tomorrow’s project. 
It’s not until Spanish that things stop dragging. It’s not his favorite class, but the work is easy, his teacher’s nice, and he only has eight other classmates. 
He’s half-way through today’s worksheet when someone taps him on the back. He looks up, half expecting it to be one of the bigger kids in class (they’ve been especially vicious lately), but it’s Sarah. 
Sarah is one of Amanda’s friends, if not her best friend. The two girls are always together. They even take most of the same classes together, besides Spanish and Biology. She’s nicer than Amanda, and more willing to work with Gregory on projects they’re assigned. 
“Hey, did you see Amanda in biology today?” 
Gregory glances over at his teacher. She has a strict “no talking” policy while working alone, but she seems unbothered, grading papers. 
“No,” he whispers. “She texted me last night, though.” He quietly laughs. “I think her phone might’ve been hacked.”
“She texted you!?” 
Half of the class looks over at them, including the teacher who puts a finger to her lips.
“Sorry, sorry,” Gregory murmurs, face turning red. He waits for everyone to return to their work before answering, “shhh…but yes. I…ah…think around nine.”
Sarah frowns. “I haven’t heard from her since last week.”
That…can’t be right. 
“Are you sure?”
“Pretty sure. I even went to visit her at her house, but no one was home,” she says. “What did the texts say?”
He eyes their teacher. “Here,” he pulls his phone from his pocket, unlocking it with one hand, “look for yourself.”
She scrolls through the texts, meanwhile, Gregory is intently watching their teacher. Nice or not, teachers generally take phones. And he has a bus to catch after school, he has no time to stay around and wait in the office. 
Several - long - minutes later, there’s another tap on his shoulder. He’d been staring so intently at their teacher that he forgot someone was still behind him. 
Sarah hands back his phone, which he promptly shoves into his pocket. She shakes her head. “You’re right, she must have been hacked.”
Curious, Gregory asks, “how come?”
“Too formal. She uses a lot of abbreviations. It can’t be her.” Sarah bites her bottom lip, considering something. “I hate to ask this, but can you go to her house after school? See if her parents or her are home? Maybe you’ll have better luck than me.”
Doubt it. 
“Sure. I’ll try.”
-x-x-x-
As it turns out, Amanda’s house is only a few blocks away from the apartment complex. It’s large, as was to be expected of someone like Amanda, the lawn is perfectly maintained, and if his eyes are not mistaken, there’s a pool in the backyard. 
He hasn’t called Vanessa or Freddy to tell them he’s going to be late, but he’s sure this won’t take long. 
Gregory walks up to the porch, stomach turning. 
There’s no reason to be nervous, he reminds himself. It’s just Amanda. 
But the closer he gets, the more his hands shake and his stomach hurts. He powers through, though, intent on getting this done and over with. If not for Sarah, then for tomorrow’s project. Maybe he can take her report to school, making sure they both don’t fail. 
Her front door is just as big as the rest of the house and made of solid wood. The kind he’s only seen used for specially made chests or dressers. It’s smooth and painted white. The doorbell is located off to the left. 
Gregory, with some hesitancy, rings it. He waits for a little while, before ringing it again. He knocks on the door.
“Hey! Amanda? It’s me, Gregory!”
He takes out his phone, ready to call her, but the front door swings open. 
No one’s there when he steps inside, which only adds to his anxiety. Cautiously, he stands in the entryway. “Amanda!? Hello!?” But no one answers back. “Anyone!?”
He decides to try and find somebody. After all, they let him into their house. Maybe Sarah already messaged Amanda and told her he was stopping by?
He peeks in the living room, dining room, kitchen, and laundry room, before circling back around and trying each of the rooms again. The last thing he wants to do is go to Amanda’s room. That feels too personal and like an invasion of privacy. And whether he likes her or not, Gregory hates the idea of violating her trust. 
But as he rounds the house for the fifth time, he decides to at least knock on her door. 
If she doesn’t answer, he reasons, then I’ll leave. 
Amanda’s room is on the second floor - something he only learned after searching high and low for it. Her door is covered in stickers, likely from her childhood, and she has a sign on her door that aptly reads: Amanda’s Room. 
He texts her one more time, just in case. Anything to keep from going any closer to her room. 
DING!
His eyebrows furrow. Has she been here all along? Hadn’t she heard him call her?
He reads the message, sighing in relief. 
Wed, Sept 30th at 4:10 PM
Amanda: Sorry, fell asleep. The report for tomorrow’s on my desk. 
Wed, Sept 30th at 4:11 PM
Amanda: You can come in and grab it. I’m not feeling the best.
Well, that makes more sense. 
He feels bad for doubting how sick she is. Of course, she has to be pretty ill to miss nine days of school. Especially so early in the year. 
He places his hand on the doorknob.
🎵Mmmm…whatcha say? Oh, that you only meant well? Of course you did- 🎵
Gregory drops his hand. Of course, Vanessa would call at a time like this. Which means he must have taken too long. He groans, anticipating being scolded. 
He answers the phone, “hi.”
“Don’t “hi” me, mister.”
“I’ll be home in a little bit,” he whines. “I’m at Amanda’s house picking up the science report for my project tomorrow.”
He can hear Vanessa take several deep breaths. “I want you home by 4:30.” She hangs up the phone. 
Gregory groans again, checking the time on his phone: 4:15 PM. The walk here from the bus stop was ten minutes, plus the time it takes to walk back from the bus stop. He’s already going to be five minutes late. 
“Hey, sorry, Amanda. I’ll come back tomorrow morning to grab the report. My mo- guardian wants me home asap.” 
He waits for a response, but when she says nothing, he hurries out of the house. 
Gregory runs all the way home, nearly tripping several times. It’s not that he’s afraid of Vanessa, but part of him is scared, if he pushes her too far, she might decide he’s more trouble than he’s worth, and send him away. 
He makes it to the apartment just as it hits 4:30. He sighs, catching his breath against the front door. 
“Hello,” Vanessa says, sitting on the couch. He jumps, placing a hand over his heart. 
Jesus! When did she get there?
“I made it here on time.”
“I see that. Freddy’s charging. He was waiting for you to get home. I had to come home early from work, so he could go charge.”
“I’m almost fifteen, Vanessa. I’m not a baby.”
She looks him up and down, before looking away.
“I was getting the report for-”
“Tomorrow’s project. I know, but you could have called.”
Gregory looks at Vanessa, at her hands that are very obviously shaking, though she tries to hide it by clasping them on her lap, and at her overly-anxious expression. Her voice is strained as well, as if she’s struggling not to cry. 
She’s scared for me.
“I’m fine, Ness. Nothing happened.” He drops his bag, and joins her on the couch. “Sorry, I didn’t call.”
Some of the tension in her body releases, and she leans back against the couch. “I’m sorry, too. I just get so far in my own head, and I worry so much, all the time.”
“That sounds exhausting,” Gregory says, even though he perfectly understands how tiring it is. 
“It is.” She turns to him. “How about I drive you to school tomorrow. We can stop at your friend’s house for the report.”
Gregory can’t find it within himself to correct her. “Okay.” He smiles.
-x-x-x-
Vanessa stumbles out of her bedroom the next morning, hair a mess and eyes barely open. If not for the project being today, Gregory might have taken his chances, and swung by Amanda’s house himself after school. 
“Let’s go,” she mutters, pulling her tennis shoes on without any socks. Her movements are sluggish and slow. 
Gregory walks slowly behind her, afraid if he passes her, she might fall down. 
The car ride is quiet. Vanessa doesn’t even bother to turn the radio on. “Where are we going again?”
“Amanda’s house. She lives on Elm Street.”
“Address,” Vanessa presses. 
“It’s um…” he pulls out his phone to check the address Sarah texted him. “631.”
“Cool.” She drives slowly down the street. “Wow, Gregory. Look at these houses.”
“I know,” he says. “They’re nice.”
“Really nice….” she trails off. “Hey, Gregory,” she says, suddenly wide awake. “What address did you say again?”
“631?”
“That house?” Vanessa asks, taking one hand off the steering wheel to point at the same house from yesterday. Except now it’s taped off, and police cars and ambulances are stationed right outside. 
As they watch on, a group of people dressed in white sterile suits, carry a black back from the house. They’re followed by even more people bringing a series of black bags.
“What?” He asks. 
Vanessa gags. She uses a nearby driveway to turn around. “I’m going to drop you off at the bus stop, okay? But I have today off, so I’m going to pick you up.”
“Okay,” he murmurs, stuck somewhere between horrified and curious. 
-x-x-x-
By the time Biology rolls around, everyone has heard about Amanda. Or they’ve heard a variation of what could have happened to her. No one actually knows what happened, but that doesn’t stop the rumor mill. 
He passes Sarah in the hallway. She’s crying on another girl’s shoulder. He immediately feels awful, even though he still has no idea what happened. 
Some of the more popular theories suggest an ex-boyfriend of hers went crazy and massacred her family, or she went crazy and killed her parents and then herself. 
In light of Amanda’s sudden, brutal passing, Gregory’s given a pass for the project. But he feels so ill from all the talk about blood, guts, and untimely fates that he hardly registers it. 
In Spanish, Sarah sits as far away from him as humanly possible. Unwilling to engage with the last person outside of her best friend’s family to see Amanda alive - technically, though Gregory didn’t really see her.
He puts his head down on his desk, burying his face in his arms.
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gregorysarmy · 2 months ago
Note
Request:
I’ve been trying to think of new storylines relating to the Mimic and Gregory. For the most part, you have written pieces related to all of them. Every interpretation you create is honestly spot on to how I feel and, most of the time, expands on their relationship in new creative ways.
That’s why I wanted to ask if you’d be interested in doing a story that follows the mimic hunting Gregory down AFTER ruin. I don’t believe you have explored that storyline yet and I would love to analyze how you would navigate it narratively. I have my own ideas. I believe Gregory still has the mimic chip in his brain considering how the chip reacts to Vanny’s interference (blurring his vision) and how Vanny can constantly track down Gregory regardless of where he is (the mimic chip serves as a tracker as shown in ruin). With that in mind, once the mimic is freed from its lair by Cassie, it would no doubt have more access to interfering with this chip.
What if Vanessa and Gregory were living peacefully, trying to move on from the trauma both of them experienced, when Gregory suddenly starts to have constant nightmares relating to a past he doesn’t remember. All because a monster is messing with Gregory’s brain, a monster he cannot recall but a monster who knows every single detail about him
Would the Mimic be violent towards them or would he be sneaky? Would he stalk them silently or would he interfere shamelessly, destroying everything they tried so hard to build? Would he forgive Vanessa? Would he repossess her? Or would he use her as a teaching moment to show Gregory he is truly alone?
How would Gregory react to this monster? Considering his amnesia, he’s clueless of its origins and the rather unique relationship the two of them had. Would this change how the mimic approaches him?
Not all of these questions have to be answered of course, but I wanted to lay down some ideas. I would love to see a work post-ruin by you.
Yes! A thousand times yes! That's actually such a good idea!! Which why I instantly had to go write the first few chapters of this story (even though this will probably be published on Wednesday).
Considering this chapter is mostly an introduction, I'll also be publishing chapter two. I might combine chapter one and two into the same post if I remember.
Anyways, thank you for this idea! I'm already having a lot of fun writing it. Feel free to tell me if characters, their relationships, or anything else is off/wrong :D!!
Trigger warnings: Implied/referenced child death (Cassie), implied/referenced captivity, blood and injury, mental health issues, and implied past child abuse.
Summary: Following the death of his best friend, Gregory - now living with Vanessa and Freddy - struggles to distinguish between what's real and what's not.
--
Chapter One: Prologue
The sun is so bright it stings Gregory’s eyes. His hand is sticky from his melting ice cream, and his arms are likely to be covered in mosquito bites by the time they leave. But he doesn’t care. 
This is freedom.
Vanessa stares off into the distance, nibbling on an ice cream of her own. Her hands have continued to shake since they left the Pizzaplex. Droplets of mint chocolate chip land on the grass. Gregory doesn’t mention it. 
It’s been a long, long night, proceeding a thousand other long, long nights. 
“Vanessa?” He asks, looking at the sky. Purples, reds, pinks, and oranges have combined into the most beautiful painting he has ever seen. Have sunsets always looked like that? 
“Hm?”
“What are we going to do?”
She’s silent as if considering something big. Her gaze slides over to him, looking him over, then to Freddy who is now just a talking head. Vanessa returns to watching the clouds, same as Gregory. 
“I don’t know,” she finally answers. “I really don’t know.”
Gregory nods. “We’ll be okay.” And they would be. They’ve escaped from Hell, so anything life throws their way, they’ll fight through it as well. As far as he’s concerned, they’re unstoppable. 
A hint of a smile plays on Vanessa’s lips. “Yeah, we’ll be just fine.”
-x-x-x-
Everything has gone to Hell. They’ve spent the better part of the day trying to contact Cassie through a walkie-talkie meant for kids. Freddy’s smiling face stares back at him as he tries fruitlessly to reach out. 
Cassie’s uncle, Luis, joined them hours ago. He sits at Vanessa’s computer, typing furiously on the keyboard. From his place on the floor, Gregory can’t see what he’s doing. Not that it matters. The only important thing right now is finding Cassie and hopefully warning her before it’s too late. 
Vanessa stands in the corner, nursing a glass of wine. Surprisingly, she’s done well with this entire situation. Only the thought of what that thing in the basement could do to Cassie has been stressing her out enough to sip at a single glass of wine. 
He hears someone on the other end. It’s muffled and barely audible, but Gregory jumps at the chance. “Cassie? Cassie? Can you hear me? Cass-” The signal is cut short, returning to static. His ear buzzes from the white noise, and he feels something akin to frustration rise higher and higher in his chest. 
If they don’t do something soon, then his best friend - the only friend he remembers from all those lonely years - might die. All because of him. 
A few months into living with Vanessa, they decided to take matters into their own hands and trap the creature deep, deep, deep underground. Where, hopefully, no one would ever be hurt by it again. 
Vanessa and Freddy (now with a working body) hooked up the M.X.E.S. machine, while Gregory had to lure the creature as far away from them as possible. None of them were sure if it would work, but not trying meant allowing more deaths to occur. 
It was simple. All he had to do was play a little game of hide and seek, using a spare walkie-talkie and his wits. And it started off well enough, with him staying out of sight. 
But then, he got a little too comfortable and slipped up, and in that brief moment, the creature emerged from the shadows, ready to swallow him whole. It rushed forward, clawed hands reaching for him. He had bruises on his ankles for weeks. 
During that encounter, out of self-preservation, Gregory dropped the spare walkie-talkie. Thus, giving the creature an avenue for communication, while damning Cassie to a fate worse than death. ‘
The sun has long since set, and they still haven’t made any progress. 
“Anything?” Luis asks, not looking away from the screen. 
“Not yet.” He tries for the millionth time to reach Cassie, standing on his tiptoes on the coffee table. He’s seen this work for cable and better phone service, so why not try it for this? 
Vanessa steadies him, making sure he doesn’t waver. 
He’s rewarded with a clean signal, and he wastes no time. “Cassie! I’ve been trying to reach you all night!” 
“Gregory?” Cassie asks, sounding scared out of her mind. “Where are you?”
He sighs impatiently. “Does it really matter? Run! Get to the elevator! I have a friend here that knows the way out. I’ll try to guide you.”
They all wait with bated breaths for Cassie to turn her walkie-talkie back on. Gregory shouts out directions, hoping she understands what they mean. 
“Gregory?” Her voice finally breaks the tense silence, and they all breathe a sigh of relief. Cassie’s alright, she’s going to make it out okay. 
“That thing in the basement we aren’t sure what it is. We trapped it down there, but you let it out and now it’s free.” Gregory continues quickly, not wanting to leave his friend in the dark. “I know you did it for me, to save me, but-” his signal is cut once again. 
He looks at Vanessa who glances at Luis over her shoulder. “What’s happening?” She asks, hands beginning to tremble. “Is she okay?”
Luis shakes his head. “She has to be,” he mutters. “Gregory,” he addresses him, “try-”
His walkie-talkie crackles to life. The sounds of creaking metal and childish screams fill the living room. None of them can muster up any words. They all stare at Gregory’s walkie-talkie in abject horror. It isn’t until there’s a loud crash and Cassie’s screams are cut short that any of them react. 
Luis stands up so fast the computer chair topples over. Vanessa cringes away, leaving Gregory to fall to the floor. 
The walkie-talkie falls somewhere near the computer desk, out of his hand. His palms and knees sting, but absolutely none of that registers to Gregory who can’t seem to see or hear anything other than his best friend’s final screams. 
“I-I’m sorry,” he stammers. 
Luis looks at him with a grief-stricken expression. “You should be. If you did your job right, then-”
He’s cut off by Vanessa, “don’t! Don’t blame him! He’s a kid!”
Luis turns on her. “So was Cassie! She was a little girl!”
Vanessa cowers, losing all her energy in the face of being screamed at. Sometimes Gregory wondered what happened to her before Freddy’s to make her so easily intimidated. 
Gregory stands up, silently hoping Freddy might appear, but he’s likely charging. “Leave!” He shouts, pointing at the door. “Now!”
And he does, slamming the door on his way out. The noise seems to shake the apartment, startling both Vanessa and him. 
Vanessa breaks down crying, falling to her knees. 
Gregory hugs her, unsure of what to do or how to feel or what to say. All of this feels unreal. It has to be unreal, actually, because surely his best friend isn’t….
He can’t bring himself to say the dirty, nasty word, let alone think it. Because if he thinks it, then it becomes real. And it’s not real. Cassie’s fine and at her house and none of what happened just happened. 
“I’m sorry, Gregory,” Vanessa sobs, wrapping her arms around him. “I’m so, so sorry.”
He rests his chin on her shoulder, allowing her to hug him close. He stares blankly at the wall ahead, wishing it had been him instead.
----
Chapter Two: One Month Later...
Gregory munches on cereal, trying to get it all down before the school bus arrives. The bus stop is a ten minute walk, so he has to leave before most of the other kids that walk or have rides. He once asked Vanessa to take him, but she’s never been much of a morning person. 
Freddy sits across from him, the same goofy smile on his face. His chair is pushed all the way out but his hands rest comfortably on the table. 
“Did you finish your homework last night?”
Gregory swirls colorful pieces of cereal around and around in the bowl. “Yes.” Which is why he wants so badly to climb back into bed and sleep. He stayed up way past his bedtime just to finish the stupid book report. 
“That’s excellent! Way to go Superstar!”
He smiles down at his bowl. Only Freddy could ever pull off such a goofy compliment. “Thanks,” he murmurs. 
-x-x-x-
He’s late. Really late. And by the time he makes it to the bus stop, the bus is already pulling away. Gregory tries to get the driver’s attention but it’s no use. 
He sighs. 
Guess I’m walking to school today. 
It’s early autumn, so the fall chill hasn’t fully set in yet. Leaves have started turning colors, and less and less birds sing their songs in the morning. 
Gregory finds the walk relaxing - would find it relaxing if he knew where he was going. The thought of asking Vanessa to take him to school or not going at all crosses his mind (maybe even convincing Freddy to let him drive Vanessa’s car). But he has a test in English today, so he has no choice but to go. 
Besides a few cyclists and an occasional car, the road is empty. Gregory tries not to dwell too much on that. He hurries along. Maybe if he’s fast enough he can talk to his science partner before class starts. They have a lab due in a few days, and his partner has been absent for most of it. 
A branch breaks behind him. 
Gregory jumps, heart skipping a beat. He swivels around, hands coming up in a fighting motion. If something is truly there, then he refuses to go down without a fight. Nothing. Not even the branch he heard break. 
He turns back around, intent on getting to school as fast as he can. 
The road is completely empty now. Warily, Gregory continues on, keeping an eye out for anyone trying to pull a prank on him. There are a few kids in the grade above him that like to mess with anyone and everyone, slashing tires, pulling pranks, and doing everything in their power to be menaces.
Not too far down the street, he hears another crack. This time, much, much louder. 
Gregory suddenly feels nauseous. He gags, swiveling around to confront whoever’s messing with him. But nothing’s there. No kids trying to mess with him, or even a branch. 
I’m being paranoid. 
But he still crosses his arms in an attempt at comforting himself. He thinks about calling Vanessa and telling her to come get him, or maybe even running home and hiding in his closet. 
Gregory glances left and right, checking for anyone hiding behind trees or running into a nearby house. Anything to suggest he isn’t going crazy, but nothing and nobody is there.
He shudders, turning back around. 
He must be hearing things. 
-x-x-x-
He eats dinner alone with Freddy that night. Vanessa is working overtime and left a couple tens for them to order pizza. Not that Freddy can eat pizza, but Gregory serves him a plate anyway. It feels rude not to. 
Freddy smiles at him, taking pretend bites out of the pizza. “How was school today?”
Gregory swallows and takes a drink of water before answering, “fine. Amanda - she’s my lab partner - promised to do her part of the project at home.”
“Ah, well, that’s nice. What’s the project on?”
He shrugs, taking another bite of pizza. He knows Freddy is just trying to engage with him, but Gregory couldn’t care less about school. To him, school was school, nothing more, nothing less. 
He hasn’t made any new friends, or joined any clubs since starting this year. It doesn’t feel worth it to him. 
“I see,” Freddy murmurs, putting his slice of pizza on Gregory’s plate. “I can’t finish this, can you help me?”
Happy to avoid talking about school, Gregory scoops up the second slice and chomps away at it. 
Way better than the Pizzaplex’s!
He suddenly remembers the imaginary cracking sounds he heard that morning. Vanessa would call him crazy, despite her being, well, her. But Freddy would never, at least not outloud. 
“Hey, Freddy?”
“Yes, Gregory?” 
“This morning…I thought I heard some branches breaking but nothing was there.”
Freddy takes a minute to respond, likely going over all the possibilities. “Well, it could have been the wind…or an animal.” He nods as if in agreement with himself. “Yes, it was likely an animal.”
That sounds….possible.
“That’s probably what it was. Thanks, Freddy.” He knew he could trust Freddy to help him see clearly. 
-x-x-x-
His room is tiny, filled with his bed in the furthest most corner and a small desk Vanessa found on the side of the road. A lamp sits on the corner of his desk, allowing him just enough light to see his algebra homework with his light off. 
He’s on the second to last question, pencil hovering above the paper, when someone knocks on his door. 
“Come in,” he says, thankful to have an excuse to procrastinate a little longer.
Vanessa pokes her head into his room. Her eyes are tired, and he notices the way she leans heavily against his door. “Time for bed, brat.” 
He rolls his eyes, stuffing his homework into his backpack.
 Whatever’s left is future Gregory’s problem. 
“Okay.” He doesn’t argue - for once - Vanessa doesn’t look up for it. “Happy you’re home.”
She smiles at him. “Thanks, kiddo. See you tomorrow.”
“Goodnight.”
“Night.” She leaves, not shutting the door behind her. 
Gregory groans. He doesn’t understand why she always does that. It’s like she’s allergic to shutting his door and turning off his light (but only his and only when it’s inconvenient for him). 
He tucks his math homework away in his bag. Annoyed at her or not, he would rather not invoke her wrath by not listening. She’s kind of scary when she’s tired. 
Gregory had the foresight to change into his pjs, so at least that part’s done. 
Quietly, so as not to wake Vanessa whose door is shut and light is off, he creeps across the hall to the bathroom. 
Gregory stares into the mirror. His hair is choppy from the impromptu haircut Vanessa gave him a week ago, and his under eyes have permanent dark circles. 
He reaches for his toothbrush.
Crack!
Gregory whips around, holding out his toothbrush like a sword. 
“Nothing,” he mutters, turning back towards the sink. He laughs to himself, feeling silly for getting so worked up. It must be all those horror movies he’s been watching with Vanessa. 
He wets his toothbrush, shaking his head to hopefully rid himself of hearing anymore imaginary noises. Gregory glances up, hand outstretched to grab the mint-flavored toothpaste Vanessa and him share. 
He freezes, blood running cold. His toothbrush clatters in the sink, falling from his trembling hands. 
Wha- why? What’s going on?
He scrambles away from the mirror, falling to the floor, because in the reflection of the mirror is Cassie...
In his panic he trips over a stray bath towel. Gregory falls hard, head bouncing off the door handle. 
His vision tunnels, until everything goes dark.
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gregorysarmy · 2 months ago
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Holy peak
Mimic Wednesdays #14
Summary: David and Gregory share a fear of storms, and only one person robot can comfort them.
@gregorysarmy
--
David sits at the window with his little brother. They stare at the dark gray clouds rolling in. The weather man on the radio mentioned something about a storm later, but he never said when. 
Mimic has to charge, which means Gregory and him are on their own. But nothing seems fun enough to hold their attention for more than five minutes. Dress-up has even lost its luster, and now David understands why. 
While he can’t find an exact correlation between rainy days and not being able to have fun, David knows there has to be something there.
“I’m bored,” he complains, pressing his nose to the glass.
Gregory instantly agrees with him, though he tends to agree with most things David says. “Me too.”
“What time is it?” He asks, even though he’s well aware his brother hasn’t learned to read clocks yet. He leans back on his elbows, and squints his eyes to read the grandfather clock in the corner. 
Six….six…four….six forty-five. 
David’s eyes shot open. 6:45!? That means….he counts on his fingers…..they only have a few minutes to play. 
Gregory tugs on his shirt. “What’s wrong?”
Leaning back towards the window, he shakes his head. “Bedtime soon,” he grumbles. 
“Oh,” his brother says, equally as disappointed as him. “Maybe daddy will let us stay up if we ask nicely?”
David’s tried that before, but he’ll do anything to avoid going to bed. “We can try.”
His brother’s eyes light up and he claps his hands. “Yay!” He shouts. 
David laughs. His brother’s outward displays of happiness never fail to make him feel better. It’s cute how little things make him excited. 
Besides, how could their daddy say no to that face?
-x-x-x-
David grumbles, staring up at the ceiling. 
Daddy said no. 
“Sorry,” Gregory whispers, curling up beside him.
He frowns. The last thing he wants is to make his brother feel bad. “It’s not your fault. It never worked when I tried it either.”
Only Mimic, now fully-charged, seemed genuinely moved by Gregory’s question. Though, that’s always been the case since day one. David’s sure he can ask anything of the Mimic and it would be done. 
Their daddy, however, didn't even look up from his desk, before telling Mimic to get them ready for bed.
David turns onto his side, facing his brother. “Hey, I think it’s raining.” If he listens closely, he can hear the heavy droplets beating against the roof. The sound is faint but noticeable. 
“Really?” His brother asks, eyes drifting towards the ceiling. He looks at David, face scrunched up in what he can only assume is worry. “Just rain, though, right?”
David frowns again, thinking. The radio man hadn’t said anything about the storm other than it was going to rain, but that didn’t mean it couldn’t happen. He really hopes the radio man is right. The idea of bearing a storm without Mimic or daddy in the room scares him. 
But he can’t just say that to his little brother who is equally as terrified about storms as he is. Not when they’re both trying to get to sleep. 
But he also can’t lie. Daddy told him as much. 
David lands on a simple, “we’ll be okay.” Because they would be, storm or no storm. They’re nestled in their bed, in the factory, and away from any thunder or lightning that may want to harm them. 
Gregory doesn’t look the least bit convinced, but he doesn’t push the issue further. He snuggles closer, trying to sleep. 
BOOM!
The factory shakes, and both boys look at each other. That’s not-
BOOM! 
David scurries off the bed, and out of the room. He holds his tiger plush in one hand, and his brother’s hand in the other. Tears obscure his vision, and it only gets worse with every passing minute. 
His brother and his cries are drowned out by the seemingly unending thunder. Each boom is followed by a flash of light, which, at this time of night, means shadows on the walls. Tree branches become hands with long, knobby fingers, reaching out for them. 
Thankfully, David knows exactly where to go. 
He lets go of his brother’s hand to burst through the door of his father’s office. His heart beats fast against his ribcage and he feels like he might be breathing too fast (but he can’t stop). “Daddy!” He cries out, shutting the door behind Gregory. 
His brother is in the same state as him, crying and shaking and breathing all funny. 
But their daddy isn’t there. In a normal situation, David might assume he left to go run a quick errand, but he’s way beyond reason right now.
“Daddy!” He shouts louder, hoping he might just be in another room. 
“Wh-what’s wrong?” A familiar and very welcomed voice asks. David launches himself at Mimic, wrapping his arms around his friend. Gregory stumbles over to them, also wrapping his arms around the robot. “What happened?” 
“Outside,” Gregory starts, “is too loud and scary.” 
“Thunder?” Mimic asks, kneeling down to address both of them. 
Both boys nod. 
David wipes his eyes on the sleeve of his oversized pajama shirt. He sniffles. “Yeah, it’s scary.”
“I bet. It’s loud, isn’t it?”
Again, both boys nod. 
“But it can’t hurt you.”
“Yes, it can,” Gregory argues.
“How?”
“Well….” His little brother struggles to argue further. “I don’t know. I just feel like it’s going to hurt me and brother.”
Mimic nods. “But it can’t actually hurt you, but I get it, it’s scary.”
Both boys hug Mimic, seeking comfort in whichever form it comes in. 
“Can we stay here until the storm goes away?” David asks. 
“No,” Mimic says. “Your father wouldn’t like that.” David sags against Mimic. “But I can stay with you two in your room until your father comes back.”
“Okay,” David agrees, seeing no way out of returning to their bedroom. 
Gregory says nothing, lifting his arms up. 
The walk back to their room is less scary with Mimic coming with them, but David still finds himself clutching his friend’s hand every time the factory shakes from the thunder. 
By the time they reach the room, Gregory has fallen asleep in Mimic’s arms. He’s laid gently on the bed and tucked in, then he turns to David to place him on the cot and tucks him in.
The thunder isn’t as loud now, but just the thought of it returning is enough for David to hold tight to Mimic. He’s sure his friend isn’t going anywhere, but he holds on anyway.
Mimic strokes his hair. 
David’s eyes grow heavy. He finally falls asleep, soothed by the gentle motions of his best friend’s fingers in his hair, and the sounds of steady rainfall beating down on the roof. 
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gregorysarmy · 2 months ago
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gregorysarmy · 2 months ago
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PEAKKKK
Mimic Wednesdays #13 - "All Better."
Hey, everyone, I'm back! Kinda. My last class for this semester ends on Monday, but after that I should be free for the foreseeable future <33
@gregorysarmy
Trigger warnings: Blood, minor injuries, and implied kidnapping.
Summary: A game of tag with a twist.
--
“Come back here!” 
Gregory huffs, nearly tripping over a stray pipe. He splashes through puddles of dubious origins and over uneven cement floors. His tennis shoes continue to blink between blue and red; their light reflects off the puddles on the floor. 
He stumbles, knees weak and sides aching, but he can’t stop. Not yet. 
Behind Gregory, there’s a series of thunderous footsteps heading right for him. 
He ducks into another hallway. The footsteps don’t hesitate in following him. The rhythmic: thud, thud, thud isn’t so much as calming, as it is a foolproof way to know where he is at all times. It’s dark, darker than the previous several hallways Gregory has run down. 
He squints his eyes, trying to navigate his way down the hallway as quickly and as efficiently as possible. He has to feel along the walls, fingers brushing along the worn concrete. 
His shirt snags on something, sending him tumbling to the ground. His knees take most of the impact. It stings and without even looking, Gregory knows his knees are covered in blood. 
The footsteps haven’t slowed, though, so he’s quick to get back on his feet. It’s harder to run now that his knees are cut up, but Gregory is nothing if not stubborn. He forces himself onward. Running, perhaps a little slower than before, but nonetheless still maintaining a decent distance away from the booming footsteps following behind. 
Up ahead, the darkness of the hallway abruptly ends. Tiny, flickering lights line the walls. He breathes a sigh of relief. He’s almost there. Just a few more-
He’s yanked back. Large metal hands pick Gregory up by his collar. It’s too dark to make out any distinguishing features. The flickering lights are too far away for him to even attempt that. He’s held aloft, dangling like a kitten from its mother’s mouth.  
Annoyance bubbles up inside Gregory. He had been so close. “I almost won,” he grumbles, crossing his arms. 
“I know,” his dad starts, “but you’re hurt.”
“You coulda let me get to the lights-”
“No way,” his dad cuts him off, shifting Gregory to hold him more securely. “There’s blood.”
“Just a little.” He can’t see his knees, but he can certainly feel the slowly drying blood crusted to his legs and the slight stinging sensation that follows cool air brushing his knees.
His dad hums. A habit Gregory finds irritating, but no amount of whinging ever changed his mind. He rests his head against his dad’s chest. For something made entirely of metal scraps, it’s oddly comfortable. 
His room is exactly as he left it. His bed is unmade, blanket on the floor from when Gregory jumped up to greet his dad. The crayons he used earlier that morning are still loose on the floor, sitting atop the pile of colorful construction paper he was gifted. 
Gregory squirms, but his dad doesn’t budge. Not until he’s sat gently on his bed. A comforting hand playfully ruffles his hair. “Stay,” his dad says, turning away. 
He sucks in a breath, kicking his legs. His knees don’t hurt as bad now. A slight tingling sensation remains, but nothing too serious. He hasn’t actually looked at them (the idea that he might be wrong, that there is something terribly wrong, frightens him), but they can’t be too bad. If they were, Gregory’s sure his dad would have made a bigger deal of it.
He can’t be entirely sure how long he waits there, legs steadily decreasing their swing. This room - his room - is devoid of any sort of time-telling device. Which has been a point of contention between his dad and him. If this were really his room, then why can’t he have a watch or cheap alarm clock (they sell like a million variations of both of those things in the gift shop up above)? 
It’s useless arguing with his dad, but that has never stopped Gregory from trying. 
His dad emerges from the darkness, carrying the first-aid kit. “Found it!” He exclaims, rattling the box. 
Gregory smiles softly. It’s a good enough acknowledgement for his dad who wastes no time in crossing the room to attend to his scraped-up knees. 
His dad - for all his pointy edges, sharp, pointed fingers, and coldness - is always so gentle when fixing up his wounds. But still, every time Gregory tenses up, afraid his dad might decide the best course of action might be to tear them off instead of bandaging them. His fears are unfounded, of course, his dad rarely deviates from what Gregory expects of him. 
The antiseptic is cold. He scrunches his nose up, feeling his wounds begin to hurt again. This is always the worst part, but it’s over quickly and followed soon after by-
“And there!” His dad exclaims, carefully placing several star-themed band aids across his knees. Gregory glances down, less afraid now that his wounds are hidden away. But something still feels like it’s missing. 
He worries his bottom lip, staring intently at his knees. The crusted blood on his legs has been thoroughly wiped away with antiseptic, and everything looks to be in order. So, then what could he be missing…?
His dad must remember at the exact same time he does, because not a second later Gregory receives a quick kiss over each of the bandages.
It might be childish - though he is still a child (much to his ire) - but he finds a kiss to his cuts and scrapes the fastest healing method, or at least, it makes them stop hurting as much. Which is basically the same thing in Gregory’s eyes. 
And they do - stop hurting, that is - just as he expected they would. Just as they had so many times before. Just as they will so many times in the future. 
His dad stands, placing a hand on Gregory’s head. “All better?” He asks.
He’s so lucky to have his dad. Most people would kill to have someone that cares about them as much as Gregory’s dad cares about him. He nods, smiling brightly. 
“All better.”
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gregorysarmy · 3 months ago
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Peak as always
Mimic Wednesdays #12: "Old Friend" pt.2
Trigger warnings: implied kidnapping, a child in distress, and the Mimic being itself.
This a continuation of the last one I did two(?) weeks ago. I want to do a happier one next week.
As a side note: guess whose birthday it is today :D!?
@gregorysarmy
I sincerely hope all of you are doing well. I know things are crazy right now, but I want you all to know you're not alone <33
--
Gregory wakes, not in his room - the one he’s lived in since his parents brought him home from the hospital. The one painted blue with glow in the dark stars plastered on the ceiling - but in a room filled with rusted pipes and frayed wires. 
He sits up, suddenly wide awake. Where is he? How did he get here? He tries to remember what happened before he fell asleep, but all his memories feel just out of reach. Too vague to paint a picture. 
“You’re awake!” A deep voice cheers. It sounds….wrong. Gregory can’t put his finger on how or why it does. Just that the voice unnerves him. “I’ve…I’ve been waiting for you to wake up.”
The man’s words seem to echo, taking up space, and the more he speaks, the more terrified Gregory becomes. 
He needs to leave. 
He moves to slide off the bed, but just as his feet touch the dirty floor, there’s a loud thud. Gregory freezes, suddenly scared to look up. 
“Where are you going?” The voice asks again, only this time Gregory knows why it sounds wrong. He can feel himself shake. His hands tremble, and he white knuckles the blanket he’s been covered with. 
Because rounding the corner isn’t a man. Gregory isn’t entirely sure what it is. It might as well have been a monster coming to swallow him whole. He hears it approach, and he’s stuck, frozen in place as it draws closer and closer. 
“David!” It sounds…joyful? Like it’s coming to greet an old friend. One that is very dear and near to its heart, but Gregory isn’t this thing’s friend for one. For two, his name isn’t David. 
He throws himself backwards, tossing the blanket to the side. The bed must be smaller than he previously thought, because he finds himself crashing to the floor. It stings, a little, but that thing is still moving closer so he pushes it aside. 
“Oh, no!” Its footsteps grow louder and heavier as it rushes towards him. “Are you hurt?” 
Gregory stands between the bed and the wall, using it as a sort of barrier. Not that he’s under the illusion it’ll protect him, but it’s the best he’s got. He holds his arms in front of his face, protecting himself.
“Leave me alone!” He shouts, finding his voice. He feels out of sorts, disoriented and not quite there, like his grip on reality has decided to take a vacation. But he’s still there, protecting himself from the monster across the room. 
He wishes he wasn’t. 
All too soon that monstrous thing is upon him. It stares down Gregory. He doesn’t make eye contact with it (squeezing his eyes shut is much preferable to seeing his inwards become outwards) but he can feel its eyes, or what must constitute as its eyes staring him down. 
“David…” It tries again, a touch softer. 
Gregory feels something brush the top of his head. He sucks in a large breath, suddenly aware that he hasn’t been breathing. He takes another deep breath in, and he screams….
     ….and screams….
                                …..and screams some more….
He screams until he can’t anymore, vocal chords straining and throat sore from yelling. All he can muster is a pathetic wheezing sound that’s more akin to a kitten than a nine-almost-ten-year-old boy. 
The thing hasn’t moved its hand away. It rests on top of Gregory’s head, and he can’t decide if it’s an intimidation tactic or something entirely different. 
He falls silent, voice shot for the time being. That thing pats his head. “I didn’t know you could yell so loud, David.” There’s a sense of (very misplaced) pride in its voice. “That’s really impressive.”
If Gregory wasn’t worried about….well…whatever this thing planned to do once it came to its senses. He might have bristled at the very obvious condescension in the monster’s voice. He’s never responded well to authority figures talking down to him. 
Instead, in a tiny, whispery voice, he stammers out, “my…my name is Gregory.” That’s all he can muster before his vocal chords give up on him completely. 
The monster says nothing to this, and it’s hard to tell if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. Gregory still can’t force himself to look up, though it would probably help to know where it's looking. 
But just the idea of being stared at is enough to keep his eyes firmly closed. 
“Gregory,” it finally says, breaking the silence. “Gregory,” it repeats, as if testing the name out. “Gregory, Gregory, Gregory…”
A shiver runs up and down his spine. He drops his hands and places them over his ears. “Stop,” he begs, though the words hardly manifest into an actual command. 
“What a nice name.” It reaches over and picks up Gregory from his, admittedly lame, barrier. 
It takes him a moment to register what has happened, and another to fully process that he’s midair, held like a dangling cat. He doesn’t scream - he can’t scream - not that he thinks it will help. 
“Gregory,” it says, holding him up to its eye level.
In spite of his aching throat and uncooperative vocal chords, he yelps. Instinctually, Gregory tries to throw himself backwards. 
It doesn’t work. 
The monster laughs, and Gregory goes limp. All the energy is zapped from his body. This doesn’t stop him from flailing his legs or trying to bat the monster’s hands, but, soon, Gregory can’t even manage to do that much. 
Tears fall from his eyes. He feels….weak, being held several feet above the ground. His eyes burn and his throat feels strangely tight. This isn’t right. He’s not supposed to be here. His parents are probably worried sick about him. 
He doesn’t want this. He doesn’t want to be here. 
He wants to go home. 
He wants his parents. 
He wants-
“I think you’re going to like it here, David.” It holds him close, nuzzling its face into his hair. 
Gregory can’t find it within himself to correct the monster, sagging deeper into the embrace.
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gregorysarmy · 3 months ago
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Holy peak
Absolutely no rush, but will there be Mimic Wednesday this week? It’s ok if not because I can still go back and read your old stuff but sometimes I stay up just to see you drop a new fic. Helps me sleep because they are so good 🙏
I'm so happy that you like Mimic Wednesdays <33 It actually really brightened my day to receive this ask.
Mimic Wednesdays will return next week. School has been weighing me down (who knew learning to become a sign language interpreter could be so draining?), but I'm feeling a lot better.
In the meantime, here's a small horrifying cute ficlet about The Mimic putting Gregory to bed <33
Mimic is reminded of his best friend everyday. In laughter, in smiles, in the childlike way his son asks to play games or to color pictures. The pain of David’s absence has never lessened, not even after his creator’s visit and subsequent death. 
He holds his son - the one that looks so much like his best friend that it almost hurts - in his arms, stepping from side to side. Gregory’s dressed in pajamas, tiny stars adorn the pants. Mimic has always thought, like David, his son reminded him of a bright and shining star. 
Gregory has long since fallen asleep, head laying on Mimic’s metal shoulder. There’s no way it’s comfortable, but his son is used to this by now. Comfortability is the least of Gregory’s concern. This is their routine, their normal, and disrupting it would upset the both of them. 
His son mumbles in his sleep. Something that sounds like “mommy, help me. Daddy, help. Please.” It’s not unusual to hear Gregory pleading in his sleep, but he hasn’t called for his “mom” and “dad” for a long while. Which means he probably needs another dose of fear gas to clear his head. To make him remember that Mimic’s all he has left.
It’s not something he likes to do. There’s usually tears involved, and it’s so hard to deny his son when he reaches out for a hug. But it’s a necessity. If he comforts Gregory before the gas has the desired effect, then what lesson would that be? 
He gently places Gregory down on his cot, tucking him in. The bunny stuffed animal he so lovingly crafted together as a companion for his son is placed in Gregory’s arms. His son clutches the bunny like a lifeline, though his mumbling has stopped. 
Mimic brushes his hair back, leaning down to kiss his son’s forehead. “Sweet dreams,” he murmurs. The irony of that statement doesn’t escape him. He almost feels bad for it. Almost. 
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gregorysarmy · 3 months ago
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What's the "Another David" explanation for the bad SB ending where it's shown that Vanny has killed 8 or 9 other kids with the very heavy implication that Gregory is next? If this is about imitating William then it's pretty self explanatory. If it's about the Mimic trying to look for kids to brainwash or something, then why were several girls kidnapped?
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This is very clearly explained in “GGY” and “ETP”.
There are 8 dead kids and only 1 kidnapped one, that being Gregory in the bottom left corner. Additionally, in GGY, we learn that one of the eight dead kids is Tony Becker, Gregory’s friend.
Tony Becker was killed because he got too close to the truth and snooped where he didn’t belong. Had he simply left the mystery of GGY alone he likely would have lived. Considering that Gregory is characterized as a “New kid” in the book, it’s safe to say that Tony wasn’t the only curious friend that Gregory had. It seems he was moving between schools as friends of his were murdered because they got too close to the truth.
We see a similar situation with the therapists. Every time a therapist makes substantial progress in solving the Glitchtrap virus, they are killed.
With ETP, we also know that Gregory was inviting friends over to the Pizzaplex to “play” which in many of the endings, results in Cassie getting killed. It’s likely Cassie wasn’t the only person Gregory invited. Unlike Cassie though, any other friends Gregory took to the Pizzaplex didn’t survive.
As for it being “implied” Gregory gets killed, that’s just an assumption. It’s also not even a canon ending. Gregory DREW this ending based on his own perception of Vanny. Keep in mind, he never figured out what Vanny really wanted with him so of course he thought he was going to die. He’s suffering from amnesia
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gregorysarmy · 3 months ago
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Do you think that Dollie is based on Fiona Murray? I’m not saying that she is possessing Dollie but I’m saying that Edwin made her because he wanted a reminder of what he lost.
No. Dollie doesn’t really look or act like Fiona
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gregorysarmy · 3 months ago
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Other than Mimic, what does David think about the other factory animatronics? (Jackie and Dollie for instance)
He never mentions them
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gregorysarmy · 3 months ago
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OHHHH I REALLY LIKE THIS ONEEEE, definitely will be analyzing this fully later.
One thing I noticed is that the mimic seemed to be watching through Vanessa’s eyes. The moment she began to talk to Gregory, he took over and turned her into Vanny. Maybe he could sense her hesitancy and felt he needed to do it himself to ensure this one doesn’t get away due to incompetency.
I also LOVE the idea of Sammy being the CEO and Gregory’s dad. It would be a really nice way to connect the old characters to the new ones!!
VERY HAPPY to hear there will be more mimic stories possibly this week 🙏🙏🙏 ur writing is always so fire. Thank you so much ria
Mimic Wednesdays #11: "Old Friend."
Apologies in advance for the lack of Mimic content in this. I wanted to go through a very improbable version of how Gregory was kidnapped. Next week will either be about Gregory and David (and The Mimic) growing up together OR a continuation of this story.
@gregorysarmy
Trigger warnings: kidnapping, and implied/referenced child death.
Also, there might be two stories next week. I got a writing request that's actually super interesting. Thank you to the person that sent it in, I promise I haven't forgotten about you, and I'll try to get to it before next Wednesday <3
--
“Have you selected one yet?”
“I have.”
-x-x-x-
Vanny scans the room. Taking in the gaggles of children and their families. The picture burned into her mind guides her, as she carefully looks over each child. 
This one has brown hair but their eyes aren’t the right color of brown. 
This one is too tall. 
Too old. 
She’s been at this for hours, but giving up isn’t allowed. Her boss had been very stringent on its conditions for another follower. The fact that it has to be a child is less alarming than the extremely specific metrics it wanted in its newest follower. 
Brown hair the color of milk chocolate with eyes to match, under four feet, a boy, and old enough to do her boss’ bidding but young enough that he has to rely on others to some extent. 
Most of the children have dark hair, some even the right color of brown, but none of them meet the other qualifications. She slumps over the balcony overseeing the party floor of the pizzaplex. It still isn’t completely finished, but a small number of birthday parties are still hosted down there. 
“An efficient use of space,” Faz-Ent. called it, ignoring the very real dangers of ongoing construction and children running wild. 
Not that she cared. No skin off her nose if a brat trips and becomes one with the foundation. 
Vanny sighs. All these kids and not one of them is a good enough candidate for-
Her eyes stop on a kid celebrating a birthday on the aforementioned floor of occupational hazards. 
She’s too far away to know for certain, but the kid ticks every box. 
Vanny makes a mental note to look into the kid’s history. He might be the one. 
-x-x-x-
“Whatcha drawing?” Vanessa leans over the kid’s shoulder. Her stomach is twisted in knots, and she’s only barely holding onto her lunch. This feels wrong…..but….why does it feel wrong? She hasn’t done anything.
This isn’t new, though, Vanessa’s spent most of her life feeling like she’s doing something wrong. That any second a squad of police officers are going to bust down the doors and arrest her for some imaginary crime. 
The kid smiles at her, tilting his picture up to show it off. “My family.” His big brown eyes seem to glimmer in the light, like a million tiny stars. “There’s my mom, my dad, and me.”
“It’s so good,” Vanessa says, pointing at the page. “I really like the colors.” Her throat feels tight, leaving her voice strained. If the kid notices, he doesn’t say anything. 
“Thanks! My mom bought me a new box of crayons. I think she felt bad ‘cause they had another meeting to-”
There’s a high pitch ringing in her ears, like a boiling kettle. She nods along, trying to ignore the noise. It isn’t the first time this has happened, but she hates it everytime it does. The kid continues on, blissfully unaware of Vanessa’s internal struggle. 
The ringing gets louder and louder until it’s the only thing she can hear. Unable to contain herself any longer, Vanessa stumbles away, holding the sides of her head. Vaguely, she’s aware of the kid coming closer, arm outstretched. He mumbles something close to, “are you okay?”
And then, everything goes completely black. 
-x-x-x-
Most kids love weekends. The days when they can sleep in, relax, and just be kids. But Gregory absolutely hates them. 
Well, okay, maybe hate is a strong word. But he does feel strongly about being dragged to-and-from meetings two to three weekends per month. He knows it isn’t his parents fault. This is their job, and it pays good money. 
Money that keeps a roof over their heads, food in their bellies, and allows them to do things that most kids can only dream about. 
It sucks, though, being forced to sit in the lobby. Most places his parents go for meetings are swimming with adults, coming and going. Someone usually stays with him, making sure he doesn’t wander off into traffic or something. 
But this place is different. It’s two-storeys, and all of the employees that could watch over him are in the meeting with his parents. Even the receptionist was called away. She locked the door before she went, ruffling Gregory’s hair on her way to the staircase. 
Which is why he finds it odd a woman is standing over his shoulder, inspecting his drawing. She’s nice, though, so he doesn’t question it too much. There’s probably a few employees who have just arrived, or maybe she’s a client that got locked in.
Gregory happily points out his parents in the picture. The woman nods along, likely just trying to humor him. He doesn’t mind. It’s nice having someone to talk to. 
He doesn’t notice the woman stumbling away until she’s across the room with her back to him. It’s odd, but maybe a bug flew into her eye or she’s about to be sick. 
He puts the paper down, and gets to his feet. Slowly, he makes his way over to the woman who sounds two seconds away from full out sobbing. He stretches a hand out to comfort her. “Are you okay?” He asks, stopping short of laying his hand on her trembling shoulders. 
The woman straightens suddenly, causing him to almost fall backwards. He stares at her, mouth agape. Should he run away? 
She doesn’t give him a chance, lunging forward, grabbing Gregory by the front of his shirt. “Stay really, really still for me, ‘kay?” 
“What are you-”
There’s a sting in his neck, worse than the sting of a bee, and she lets go of his shirt. Gregory holds his neck, eyes drifting to the syringe hanging limply in the crazy lady’s hand. He stumbles away, heart beating fast. He needs to get away from her. He needs to-
The room sways, or maybe that’s just him. He can’t tell the difference anyway. Gregory’s eyes well up with tears. He silently begs for someone else to wander in, for the meeting to be over, for some kind of divine intervention. Anything to keep him from dying, because surely that’s what this is. That woman poisoned him, and he’s going to die. 
His vision grows dimmer, but he refuses to stop moving towards the staircase. If he can make it to the second floor, then he’ll be safe. 
Gregory can hear the blood rushing through his ears and the sounds of his own panicked breathing. He’s too aware of his skin, of the tightening of his throat, of everything that isn’t outside of himself. 
He feels trapped. 
But if he can just make it to-
His vision tunnels further, and Gregory falls forward. The last thing he sees is the woman rushing towards him, arms out.
-x-x-x-
Samuel Emily, CEO of Fazbear Entertainment and son of one of its founders, feels absolutely powerless. He sits on the curb outside the building where he was meeting some investors about the newest Pizzaplex. 
He stares blankly at the ground. Red and blue lights reflect off the windows of the cop cars. His body is numb, and even his crying wife isn’t enough to shake him out of it. 
Samuel doesn’t remember his sister - not really - not like his father and mother did. One day she was there, and the next…
Charlie and Gregory’s disappearances are hardly comparable, he reasons to himself. Charlie was much younger and was locked outside. Gregory’s older, he knows better, and no one could have gotten inside. (But what if they did?)
This is all a big misunderstanding. 
Gregory’s a curious child. It wouldn’t be a stretch to say maybe he wandered off. When the cops rewatch the camera footage they’ll see where he went, and all of this - the cop lights and panicking - will all be a bad dream. 
“Mrs. Emily, Mr. Emily,” a man approaches them. Samuel looks up, hopeful that they might get some good news. “I’m very sorry,” the man says, eyes drifting to the ground. His face is neutral, though, the slight downward twitch of his lips doesn’t make for a good sign. “But the camera footage was corrupted.”
Next to him, face streaked with tears, his wife gives a humorless laugh. “Corrupted? Wha- what does that even mean?”
“It means your son is officially a missing person.”
His wife collapses onto her knees, screaming out in anguish. All Samuel can do is hold her. 
-x-x-x-
The Mimic takes his newest “follower” from Vanny’s arms. “Good, good,” he says, looking the child over. “Good work, Vanny.”
She relaxes her shoulders, tension releasing after several days of non-stop searching. “Thank you,” she murmurs. “May I be dismissed?”
“Sure.” He turns away. 
After all these years, his friend has returned. He can hardly contain his excitement. Only the sleeping child in his arms keeps him from jumping up and down. He settles for sitting down in the middle of the room.
His eyes fixate on David’s sleeping face - missing its usual freckles - but otherwise the same. He stays there, wanting to catch the moment when his friend opens his eyes. 
“Sleep well,” he murmurs, bringing a hand up to brush back his friend’s bangs. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”
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