#DawnOC

[entomolog-t]

INSTAЯ (1)

Kicking off promptober a day late with some new OCs for the prompt Stranger! This is going to be an ongoing series for promptober along with some content of my other OCs 💕

Just a fair warning, this chapter in particular is more horror oriented, while the series itself will be more sci-fi focused in nature. The content warnings are not extreme, but be wary of you're sensitive to any of the topics.

- - - -

Next Chapter: Chapter 2

Word count: 2856

CW: Gore (Blood/viscera, mild body horror) Mentions of firearms, Adult language,

There was someone outside.

The sight of a figure standing in the distance at the edge of my yard made the blood drain from my face. There was a creeping sense of unease that washed over me as I eyed them from the window. What was someone doing out here? The next house was over a kilometer away… just who the Hell was that?? 

I squinted, unable to discern anything other than a vaguely human silhouette near the treeline.

Was someone lost? Maybe a drunk kid stumbled away from a barn party or something? 

A voice at the back of my mind whispered far worse alternatives.

What if they’re here on purpose?

The figure wobbled forwards, just beyond the reach of the porch lights. I felt as the growing sense of unease only worsened. Their gate was lurching and awkward- as if stumbling and catching their fall. 

Had they been in an accident? Oh God, what if they’re hurt?? That paranoid voice in the back of my head interjected, cold and logical, What if they want to hurt you? It’s the middle of the night, in the middle of nowhere- Lock. The. Doors. 

As if on cue, the motion lights lit up, casting an artificial glow over the expanse of their yard- the light just barely reaching the … the… what the fuck was that?

Unease turned to horror, and my feet turned to lead. 

Very little of the light had reached the figure, its body still obscured by shadow- but the light had reached its eyes; it reflected off them.

All six of them. 

To my horror, those six eyes turned to look straight at me.

Not human. Oh God, it's not human. 

I stared, unable to pull my eyes from the sight, instinct locking me in place. For a beat we stayed frozen, eyes locked on one another, neither of us moving. I wasn’t sure I was even breathing.

Then it ran.

My heart stopped. It barrelled forwards with jagged motions at wrong angles- its movements far too stiff. I fall back from the window with a choked cry. A singular voice cutting through the panic in my mind.

The door. Lock the door. Get the gun. 

Frantic, I scramble to my feet, legs feeling numb as I sprint toward the door. As I near the door, i hear a muffled sound that chills me to the bone; 

Barking. 

Honey!

For a brief moment my thoughts feel incomprehensible. Panic scrambling any sort of linear path or cohesion before adrenaline urges me to focus- this is fight or flight, and if Honey is outside I could only ever choose fight. 

Hall closet. Get the bat. 

I rip open the closet door, tossing aside coats and clutter to grab the metal “Unwanted Visitors” bat. My heart threatens to beat out of my chest as I hear the barking outside take on an edge- a growl. 

Fuck. 

I needed to move. Not Honey. Oh God, please not Honey. 

My breathing comes too quickly and too shallow, chest shaking with every breath. My hands tremble as I grip the bat, my knuckles white. Despite it all, my mind remains clear- Frantic, but clear. 

Open the door. Get the dog.

I rip the door open, nearly falling back as the… the thing whips its head around to face me. My stomach drops, weighed down by an overwhelming dread; There was no denial. This was no person in a mask, no deformed and mangy coyote- Hell this was no animal born of this earth. There was no conceivable way to placate my mind by rationalizing that this thing was anything but monstrous. 

It’s too many eyes stayed locked on my own, as it loomed motionless on two legs, almost like a man- only a twisted perversion of what a man should be. Even at a distance it was clear this thing was massive, standing taller than my pickup. An armor like shell covered its form- a deep inky black and with an uncanny sheen, akin to spilled gasoline. Flesh and muscle peaked through the gaps in the armor on limbs that were far too long- and horrifically, two too many. It … this thing had six limbs. 

It stood on two legs, malformed as they were - they looked almost prehistoric. Digitigrade, like that of a dog, but clawed. Not clawed like cats or dogs, but taloned like birds- like… dinosaurs. Four arms jutted from its body, with two remaining curled against its chest, while the other pair rose up in front oof them between itself and Honey. 

Its face- God that face! Bile rose in my throat as the wrongness of its visage settled in my mind. Much of its face was smooth, devoid of any visible ears or nose. There were too many eyes. Each pure black, with no indication of where its gaze landed. Antennae, this thing had fucking antennae, jutted forth from its temples behind what looked like horns in an almost demonic appearance.  

Was… was it a Demon?

An Alien??

As my eyes locked onto its mouth, an icy chill coursed through my spine. The sight of its mouth was beyond horrific- Like a twisted version of an insect or a Hellish spider. Grotesque appendages jutting out from the corners of its mouth, keeping the full view of its maw obscured.

That is… until it screamed. 

It was as if its face was being pulled apart, the mouth appendages spreading far wider than humanly possible to reveal a fanged maw. The sound that spilled from the creature could only be described as unholy. A sound that was both a hissing shriek and a deep bellow echoed through the night, broken and cracking as the howl died in the creature's throat- almost as if it was not meant to be making sound. The silence that followed was deafening. Something stirred in the back of my mind, as if awoken by the creature’s wail- a primal fear, the sensation a mix of desperation and foreboding. It was as if my mind fought against the sight before me, so desperately wishing to unsee something that went against my own established reality. The uncanny wrongness of the creature filled me with a nearly indescribable sense of unease- the primordial fear of the unknown.  

Honey growled. A low warning growl spilled past barred teeth. I heard my voice before I’d even realized I’d spoken.

“Honey. Off.”

Honey doesn’t move. Doesn’t even flinch at my voice as she refuses to tear her eyes away from that monstrosity for even a second. I take a step forward.

“Honey. Come!” My voice cracks, the fear bleeding into the plea.

Nothing.

A sickening sinking feeling overtakes me as dread settles in my stomach. Thoughts of that .. that thing wormed into my mind- Those grim claws tearing into Honey, that hideous mouth sinking in to her-

“HEY!” I take the first of the steps down the porch and raise the bat, desperately ignoring the shaking in my legs, “GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM HER!” 

The creature’s head snaps toward me in an instant. It takes a step back, raising both sets of arms it had extended between itself and Honey. That horrible mouth opens again, a gruesome croaking sound bleeding forth, like a wet clicking. It sounded forced… it sounded almost… pained. 

I blanch. 

Could it- Did it understand me?

Time felt as though it froze- my eyes locked on the creature's face looking for some sign of recognition, some emotion- anything. Its face split again, mouth opening to make a strained croak before it dropped to its knees, as if a weight had suddenly been dropped on it. It shuddered, catching its weight on two of its four arms as it collapsed forward. 

Was it hurt? 

Slowly I move forward down the steps. A sickening smell fills the air. Hot and meaty, like a gutted animal- the smell of ruptured innards. I gag- the smell of roadkill.  In the cool of the night, I watch in terrible fascination as steam rolls off the creature in billowing waves. 

To my relief, Honey takes a step back, ears pulling back flat against her head as she whines in concern. Something was happening, and I did not care to find out what that was. 

The creature shrieks. The sound makes my blood run cold. Raw, and wet, it sounded like two voices screaming in tandem; A cougar's yowl cutting through a bison’s bellow. A sickening crunch cuts the scream short. 

“Honey.” My own voice feels hollow, I barely feel her name form in my mouth as I speak it. “Inside.” She hesitates, head briefly leaving the creature before turning to me. Honey finally relents, tearing off behind me and into the house. Yet the relief that washes over me seems to wash away my nerve as well. My legs feel weak under the weight of my body- plated far too firmly in the ground as if literally and metaphorically petrified- cemented in place by fear. 

Panic swells in my mind, as my heart thunders against my chest. Fuck, fuck fuck. I needed to get to the door? How fast was this thing? Would it try to get inside? Did I have any bullets left? What if- 

No. 

Focus. 

Get inside. 

With no small effort, I will my feet to move. I refuse to take my eyes off that fucking abomination as I take a step back. Its head shoots up, gaze locking onto me. Instinct throws logic to the wind, my brain screaming a single command-

RUN.

I turn to obey, but not before I see it lunge forward, rushing at me as I try to get away. In a split second decision I pivot, swinging the bat with enough adrenaline powered force I was certain I could drop a bear. 

A sickening crunch follows as I make contact. 

To my horror, the noise hadn’t came from me downing the creature, but instead the metal bat crumpling in its grasp. 

I step back, releasing the bat. For a moment, both of us seem frozen in time- each staring at the bat, malformed in its grasp. Some unknowable emotion crosses its face. Its antennae stand straight, and the gruesome oral appendages twitch rapidly. 

I take another step back. 

The thing looks from the bat to me, its horrific mouth opening and closing with a stuttered chittering noise. I take a step back. It hesitates, looking from the bat to me and back again to the bat. Another step, and another, and another. My eyes stay locked on its form, refusing to turn my back to that thing again.

It crumpled my bat… my metal bat... It caught it mid swing… with ease. My brain seemed to struggle for a moment, as if resisting against what I’d just witnessed. I swallowed a lump that formed in my throat. This thing was fast, and horrifically strong. 

Get inside. 

I want to laugh at the thought. Tears sting at my eyes, and dread wells in my gut. What good would being inside do to stop something that crumpled a bat with ease?? The barrier of the door would be just as effective as a blanket over a child's feet at night- only good for placating the mind. 

I take another step back and feel the bottom step of the porch steps press into my calf. 

Almost there. Get inside. Lock the door. Get the gun. 

I back up the steps, my steps slow as if any sudden movement would prompt it to rush at me. The wood groans under my weight and the creature's head snaps up as if broken out of a trance, bat clattering to the ground. It follows, though it doesn’t rush at me. Instead its movements are slow- like a predator stalking its prey. 

My steps quicken, but my eyes stay locked on the multitude of its own. It matches my pace, clearing the porch steps in a single stride as I back through the door frame. It closes more distance. My mind is screaming- begging me to shut the door, but something much louder and much more ancient bucks against my reason- commanding me to keep distancing myself from it. 

I step back. 

It follows. 

The creature ducks under the doorframe- a hideous and gruesome sight as its massive frame steps into the light. Brutal looking spikes jut out from its shelled exterior, the oily sheen on its segmented armored shell prismatic in the light. Something too fleshy writhes between the gaps, twisting and straining with each motion. It raises a single arm toward me, three brutally clawed fingers, long and unnaturally jointed grasping for me. 

Then, without warning, it crumbles. 

Both figuratively and literally, the creature falls apart. A chunk of its shelled armor falls from its extended arm- a foul viscous ooze dripping from the bare spot. It shudders, a soft gurgling cry slipping out from behind its insectoid mouth. 

It takes a step, wobbling under its own weight before dropping to a knee. One hand reaches to cover its mouth, while the other strings against its thigh, trying to heave itself back to standing. 

It stumbles. More chunks of its exterior fall from its frame. Its raises its head towards me. Despite all reason, the emotion on its face seems all too clear. 

Fear. 

Despair. 

Pleading. 

I choke back tears. What the fuck was happening?

It chitters- sounding almost frantic. In the light of the entryway I can see its mouth more clearly. The way its face splits open, the horrific width of its maw, the way its teeth look more like talons than actual teeth. 

I watch in horror as it begins to heave- dropping to its hands and knees its back arches- more pieces of itself cracking off under the sudden movement. A foul hot liquid spills from its mouth, the creature gagging and jerking as it throws up something thick and…red.  

Blood. 

Was it this thing's blood? My thoughts are drawn back to the strange ooze under its shelled exterior…No…Was this someone else’s blood? Had it-

It heaves again, chunks of tissue and viscera seemingly answering my unspoken question.

I can’t feel my breaths as they pass my lips, but I can feel the way my chest heaves- how hard it contracts, each breath shallow and forced. 

Get away NOW. 

I stumble back. Head swiveling around while it's distracted. Fragmented thoughts coming and going in a frenzy as I feel fear and logic scramble for some sort of plan.

Run. Hide. Kitchen. Garage. Knife. Gun. Phone. Honey.

Honey.

My eyes fall on Honey, standing stiff in the hallway. Her ears pulled back, expression wary as her head looks from me to the thing in the entryway. Without a second thought I rush towards her, grabbing her by the collar and stumbling to the bedroom. The slam of the door behind us seems to break whatever mental dam I had built  in my panic. Hot tears spill down my face as realization dawns on me. 

Trapped…I’d trapped us both. 

The gun was in the garage. I felt a sob escape my lips. The truck keys- in the kitchen beside my phone. 

I shook my head, trying to free myself from the despair pulling on my mind. I had to do something. I refused to sit and wait for that… that … thing to burst through the door. My eyes fell to the dresser, calling forth memories of yelling at Clyde for scratching the hardwood floor as we struggled to move it from the guest room to my own. It was heavy. 

Ramming my shoulder into the side of it, I shoved it in front of the door, the dresser groaning in progress as its legs scraped the once pristine hardwood. My own legs shook. My hands shook. Everything shook. Trembling turned to near convulsions as my back slid against the dresser, knees giving out beneath me. I eyed my bed, considering shoving it against the door as well, but the thought of getting up for a second and leaving the door undefended was too much. 

Crouched against the barricade, I could hardly breathe. The stench of rot choked the air, mixing with the vile sounds of retching that echoed down the hall. I pulled Honey close, clinging to her like a child clutching a treasured stuffed animal. Her tail flopped lazily, like the fearless idiot she was. This couldn’t be real. I was having a break. This was… a prank. A nightmare. This was anything but reality. It couldn’t be- I knew better. This was real. 

I felt my sanity teetering on the edge. Outside the barricaded door, the shuffling and scratching grew, though I couldn’t tell if the creature was moving closer or if my ears were just adjusting to the unnatural silence around me. 

More retching. 

More chittering

Sounds of something heavy falling to the ground. 

Wailing. 

Horrific screeches. 

The sound of a heavy impact rattling the walls. 

My hands flew to my ears, eyes squeezing shut as I begged reality itself to make it stop-

And … it did.

[protomartist]

This is my boy Xavis and he’s a gay hitman (ikr so creative). I’ve drawn him before, but he’s v close to my heart so I drew him again

[pinkchimichanga]

(They guys I’m starting to do this thing called Oc Time by Chimi or OCTBC here is my first oc on Tumblr I hope you guys like it 😊) Dawn The Demon Slayer Real name:Dawn Josefina Gudmundsdottir Moonchild Aliases:Moonchild,Dawn the Demon Slayer,The Aura Psyche

Known relatives: Nala Kalani Gudmundsdottir (mom) Ari Gudmundsdottir (Dad) Delilah (Delilah Death) Gudmundsdottir (sister)

Identity: secret identity Citizenship:American Marital Status: Dating

Occupation:Demon slayer and student Education:high school Characteristics Gender:female Height:5'3 (in demon slaying form she’s 5'9) Eyes:green Hair:platinum blonde Unusual Features:elf like ears and very pale skin Origin:Mutant Universe:Marvel’s Earth-616 Place of birth:Westchester,New York Race:half Polynesian (mom’s side) and Icelander (dad’s side) Sexuality:Straight

Likes:indie music,teen dramas,Boho fashion,Animals,art,writing,and poetry Dislikes:demons,people who called her elf girl,alcohol,Scott (even though he is Her boyfriend she just doesn’t like how he acts sometimes) and vampires Personally:kind,loyal,helpful,and independent Powers: Aura reading,Death warning,Telepathy,telekinesis,and Preognition (can see the future) And last but not least Team:M-23

[entomolog-t]

Valentine's Day Special- Conversation Hearts

Happy Valentine's Day! As a treat here's a not-currently-canon-but-maybe-future-canon short for INSTAЯ as a part of the G/t Valentine's Prompt List.

Bram find's a new way to get his messages across.

Word count: 759

(Bonus there is some that will accompany this short- I'd just like to get a little farther on GtWAC and my comissions before taking the time to finish)

____

“I know you washed your hands but there is something deeply wrong about that.” 

Bram pulls back his hand from the batter with a glare, chirping incomprehensible words, yet the cadence made it clear he was mocking me by mimicking my chiding. Below us, Honey whines, desperate for her share of Bram’s stolen batter.

I return his glare, though I can't help but chuckle at his disdain as I shoo him away from the bowl. His eyes narrow as he chitters some sort of grievance at me, Honey’s pleas going unanswered as he makes quick work of the batter coating his claws.

The sight sends a chill down my spine. 

Was that a tongue? I shudder, not wanting to think too long about the logistics of how his nightmarish mouth worked. I turn my focus away from what I'd come to recognize as his muttering and back to the task at hand, whisking in the pistachio cream and cardamom extract, the batter taking on an almost cozy scent. One by one, I fill the cupcake papers, a grin tugging at the corners of my lips at the thought of how nice the house would smell as they baked. The soft music playing nearly hid the sounds of his talons as they clicked across the countertop- thankfully, away from the batter.

It felt … good. 

Normal even. Just to be able to ease into something familiar again, if only for a moment. 

For just that singular moment, I could get lost in a fantasy where there wasn’t a tiny abomination trying to sneak a taste at the cupcake batter… A fantasy where Bram was… Bram and we were just a normal pair of people spending time together. 

My relief didn’t last long, as the unmistakable sound of a plastic bag rustling broke through the cozy ambience. 

I frown. 

He’d, quite literally, gotten into the Conversation Hearts Clyde had dropped off that I’d been planning on using as toppers for the cupcakes.

“You overgrown cockroach,” I scold, though the smile that tugs at the corners of my lips dulls any edge the insult carries, “You act like I don’t feed you.” 

The bag chirps with what I can only assume is some snide retort thrown my way. I sigh, smile still tugging at my lips as I move the tray to the oven. Had he always had such a sweet tooth, or was this something to do with - 

A sort of whistling chirp abruptly pulls me away from my thoughts. I turn my attention to Bram- a conversation heart in his main set of arms. As I’m about to make a comment about his digustingly sweet choice of snack, he holds the heart out towards me and I feel my own freeze in my chest. 

Oh.

I stare at him for a moment. What could have only been a second seeming to stretch far longer than reality should permit. 

There was a dreadful feeling of both being caught off guard and knowing exactly where this was going- my brain rattling off various little sayings printed on those hearts. 

Be mine

You’re cute

Love you

I felt heat rise to my face. 

Kiss me

I swallow. I could only hope that my face didn’t show a fraction of the panic running full tilt through my mind. I mean, of course we’d grown to like each other's company- it’s not like there were any other options out here. All that time together… we’d grown closer but- How was I supposed to respond to this? If anything the majority of our time spent together was spent annoying one another- sure it had been teasing… but certainly not that kind of teasing! I chew on my lip, a strange feeling of dread brewing in my chest- would I break his heart?

Though another question seemed to itch the at the back of my mind, 

Did I have to?

My heart thrums loudly in my ears, each beat feeling all too much like gunfire. I reach my hand out towards him, and he hands me the candy heart, his tail swishing behind him in anticipation. 

I grit my teeth, mind reeling over just what I was supposed to say.

He chitters, and my brow knits together as I recognize the noise. Not nerves... The broken half chirps had become a familiar sound- laughter. As I read the tiny red text, the weight vanishes from my shoulders, a feeling of genuine relief accompanying the all too familiar sting of irritation. Irritation for both Bram and Clyde. 

YOU SUCK

[entomolog-t]

INSTAЯ (3)

Multi Prompt Post; Mirror, Forlorn, Hush

Who else has ever thought, "You know what charades is missing? Angst."

In case the remark above wasn't clear, this chapter deals with some decent angst- you have been warned.

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Previous Chapter: Chapter 2

Next Chapter: Chapter 4

Word count: 2755

CW: Mild body horror, Panic/angst, Unintentional dehumanization, Adult language

I gasp as the weight in my hand thrashes- jerking up and scrambling back in my open palm. 

It- it’s alive?!

As if I’d been given a handful of burning coals, instinct yanks my hands back and the… thing clatter onto the floor with an audible clink.

What the fuck is -

Before my brain can follow, a not quite human form stumbles to its feet and bolts away and at an unnerving speed. Within a matter of seconds the kitchen erupts into chaos. Honey’s barking reverberates against the walls as she follows suit- bounding after it as if it were one of the numerous elusive squirrels frequenting the property. Mouth open, she lunges, in an attempt to grab it but the creature dives out of the way, letting out a strained noise- a high pitched wail followed by a series of clicks as it darts under the kitchen table. Like a bull in a China shop, Honey continues her pursuit, carelessly shoving chairs aside without a second thought as she gives chase to … to what?? Its almost as if my brain stutters, stumbling over dots it’s struggling to connect.

The creature- as fast as it was- was no match for Honey, especially in the open expanse of the kitchen. Their frantic chase lasts all of 10 seconds before Honey has it cornered. 

The creature squeaks- crying out as Honey pounces from side to side, yipping at it as she urges it to play in her very one sided game of chase- daring it to run. I stare blankly, having barely moved since my initial fright. 

I couldn't quite see the creature from my vantage point behind Honey, but the glimpses I had gotten were telling; the iridescent sheen, the strange limbs… 

There was no way…

The strained chittering from the corner jolts me out of my thoughts. Honey playfully nips at the creature not unlike the way she used to annoy the neighbors barn cat, blissfully unaware she was just torturing the poor thing… until he had swiped at her- The thought sends a chill through me. Would it bite her? Memories of its horrific mouth and those clawed finger tips are pulled from my mind… Sure, it was small, but that certainly didn’t mean that thing wasn’t dangerous- especially now that she had it cornered. 

My mind was racing, searching desperately for some sort of plan of action. What was I supposed to do? There was no way I was letting that thing escape somewhere in my house- but its not like I could just let Honey maul some… Alien..? Monster? I still had no clue what that thing was, and there was absolutely no way I was going to be touching that thing myself. I shuddered as my brain conjured up various gore filled movie scenes of parasitic aliens burrowing themselves into a host. Was that what it was? Some juvenile alien looking for a host?? My eyes hastily dart around the kitchen, looking for some kind of solution- and then I see it. 

A whiskey glass.

On the counter I spot one of the fancy glasses Clyde had insisted on bringing over the last time we drank. At the time I thought he was being pretentious, but at this moment I’m filled with nothing but thanks. 

I take a wary step forward and watch as both Honey and the creature’s head are on me in an instant. I give a sharp whistle. 

"Off." Honey tilts her head, reluctant to give up her new plaything, but upon making a noise of disapproval, she relents, trotting over behind me as she would when out hunting. I quickly take her spot- not letting the creature leave the corner. 

There's an audible squeak from the creature as I kneel down. It chitters frantically, all four of its arms raised up in between us as it takes a step back.  

Its antennae twitch in a way that almost seems ... nervous. It’s tail- I furrow my brow- it had a tail? Aside from the drastic change in size, the creature looked slightly different than it had before.  For one- it had a tail; whip-like and bristly, almost like a porcupine with its spines folded back. It’s antennae seemed thicker, club-like near the tip, and its shell, no longer an inky black, had taken on a deep bluish green tone. It stares up at me, eyes wide and unblinking as it continues to chitter, head turning to look at the glass and back to me. 

I raise the glass over its head and the creature stumbles, falling backwards in a much too human-like motion- a fearful little action that nearly makes me feel guilty. As the glass comes down over it, the creature ducks its head forward, clambering to its hands and knees- the whiskey glass too shallow even with it sitting.   

For a moment, we both stare at each other, until the reality of the situation seems to settle in; I had caught some tiny creature maybe-alien in a whiskey glass. 

Just what the Hell was I supposed to do now? Should I call some? Who would I even call??

I caught myself right before starting to chew on my thumb, trading in the old habit for occupying my hands with fidgeting instead. My eyes scan the countertops for my phone, finding it in its usual place at the corner opposite to me, right between my notepad and truck keys. 

I hesitate- not too keen on the idea of leaving the creature unattended even for a brief moment, lest that thing get loose in my house. Wracking my brain for any sort of plan, I start taking a mental inventory of anything I could possibly use within arms reach.

Cleaning supplies, baking supplies, paper towels, paper plates- 

I pause. 

That could work.

Opening the cupboard to my left, I pull out a paper plate. Tipping the glass up ever so slightly, I slip the plate underneath, frantically trying to convince myself this is no different from catching a wasp.

It’s face turns up to lock eyes with me, muffled chittering escaping from through the glass. It seemed to stare daggers at me, squinting at me as if it were… insulted? 

Questions of its intelligence resurface once again. There was no doubt in my mind that it was thinking, analyzing my actions as it scrutinized me… It had known how to lock the doors- Just how smart was this thing? More importantly - what was this thing? 

As I shimmy the plate underneath the glass, the creature reluctantly crawls onto it, its glare never once relenting. I stand, placing the trapped monstrosity on the countertop near my phone. With a deep breath, I pick up my phone and stare at the screen- my mind once again racing at the bizarre logistics- just who the Hell I was supposed to call about a potential alien I had trapped like some kind of weird bug? Should I call Clyde? The police? They’d think I was crazy, right? Should I lie, or - 

Tink.

A sharp clinking interrupts my thoughts. The creature bangs on the glass and I instinctively recoil 

“Fat chance I’m letting you out-” I mutter, but my words die in my mouth the moment my eyes are on it. I watch in horrified fascination as the creature gestures frantically pointing to the notepad. 

I freeze- heart beating wildly in my ears.

Did… Did it want to write?

An uneasy feeling creeps at the edge of my consciousness, making my skin prickle. As soon as I pick up the notepad it nods vigorously. That simple gesture made my skin crawl. It was communicating…

I feel as the blood drains from my face- a noticeable sinking feeling in my gut at the brief glimpse of this…this being’s intelligence.  

I blanche, staring at the being, dumbfounded. Its mouthparts twitch under my gaze, as it continues pointing insistently at the notepad and then to the pen, looking all too human in its frustration. 

It’s as though I’m underwater, my movements delayed as I pull up a chair and sit down. Carefully, I tilt the glass, a not insignificant part of my brain expecting the creature to dart off… but it doesn’t. Ever so slowly, it gets to its feet, tail swishing nervously as its multitude of eyes stay locked on my own. 

It chitters, raising up its first set of arms, gesturing impatiently for me to hand it the pen. I comply, placing the pen in their outstretched arms, taking note of just how massive the pen looks in their strange grasp; The being no bigger than the pen itself- if that. 

I flip the notepad open to a blank page and place it down in front of them. They awkwardly jostle the pen around, trying to figure out how best to hold it before figuring out a relatively steady grasp- the sight would be comical if it weren’t so bizarre… so real. In a motion almost akin to sweeping, bit by bit shaky letters begin to form.

H…E…L…P

I gasp- eyes wide as I read the word… the English word.

“H-help?” The creature flattens its antennae at the sound of my voice, but nods, “How-” I shake my head, wanting my own answers, “What are you?”

Again, it awkwardly dances with the pen as it answers,

H…U…M…A…N

It stares at the word before it moves, standing on the “HU” portion, and gesturing to the remaining letters.

M… A… N

My skin tingles with the pricking sensation of goosebumps as I read the word over again, mouth agape. A nervous laugh escapes me as the apparent not-so-human human points to the word and back to itself- himself. I grimace.

“I got news for you, buddy.”

The least human looking man I’d ever laid eyes on  chitters an aggravated series of clicks as he begins to write again, almost as if muttering to himself. 

W…A…N…T  

My mind reels trying to figure out what he would need.

L … O…O…K

As he finishes his second word he then points to himself. 

My mouth goes dry. Were they really human?  Worse yet, if he was … what happened to him?  

My voice feels hollow as I speak, 

“You want to look…? At yourself??” 

He makes a chirping sound, responding with an emphatic nod. An uncomfortable thought crosses my mind, Had he not seen what happened to him? I chew my lip, my thigh bouncing wildly beneath me.

“You know, it would have been faster to write mirror.” I quip, trying to relieve some of the tension I felt boiling under the surface. 

He chitters in what I assume to be annoyance, sounding oddly similar to a treed squirrel. I hear the jingle of Honey’s collar as she perks up- clearly all too familiar with that sound. 

I shoot Honey a stern look, 

“Stay.” Turning back to the little being I add, “That goes for you too,” as I get up to grab my purse from the coat rack. He tosses his hands up in an exaggerated gesture of exasperation. 

It’s as though I’m in a daze, my brain on autopilot as I navigate my way around the carnage of the night prior. The newfound context of the incident with the creature twisting a knot in my stomach. It’s- no, his hands raised in a placating gesture between Honey and himself… pleading to me… looking for help. I exhale- my breath coming out shaky. There were still so many questions- and it seemed like he had questions of his own as well. 

I return to the kitchen with my purse, finding him sitting down on the countertop, staring blankly at his hands. Upon my approach his antennae perk up, and he stands to meet me. I can’t help but stare. He looks so small. I rummage through the mishmash contents of my purse, pulling out a compact with a mirror. Part of me wants to warn him- but what was I supposed to say? Heads up, you’re fucking horrifying? Surely he would have some understanding about his situation. It’s not like they couldn’t see their own body… Or my reaction to him last night. Without saying a word, I pop the compact open, placing it in front of him.

At the sight of his reflection, he stumbles back- his strange mouth hanging agape. That is, until he catches sight of his mouth- his hands flying up rapidly to cover it from view. For a moment, everything is still. He stands frozen in front of his reflection, looking like a deer caught in the headlights. Soft chittering fills trinkles into the silence. In an agonizingly slow motion, his first pair of limbs reaches upwards, while his second remains wrapped around his waist, as if covering himself. His hands move across the hard surface of his face. He grazes clawed fingertips around each eye, hands trembling as they come up to feel the horn like protrusions at his crown. 

He drops his hands, gaze falling to stare at them, before returning to his reflection once more. His movements at first slow and timid, increase in speed. He grabs at his face, twisting his head left and right before trembling hands grope at the gaps in his exoskeleton- frantically gripping and tugging at the edges. The groping becomes more violent- almost mauling- as he starts to pull at the edges of his shell as if wanting to rip it from his body. My hand twitches, ready to intervene. He chitters, and his attention gets pulled to his mouthparts. Motions far too violent, he yanks at the insectoid appendages covering his mouth, peeling back the appendages to stare at the horrific expanse of his oral cavity. I flinch at the pained squeak they make as he sees the grotesque sight of his inhuman maw. His chittering grows frantic- pained even. 

Hands shaking, he scrapes at the hard shell of his face with clawed fingers, reefing on any gaps in his armor while making a strange shrill sound, like a bird simultaneously whistling and hyperventilating. The sound came forth rapidly and without rhythm, hitching and catching at random intervals as his chest heaved- 

Oh. 

He was sobbing. 

My heart aches at the sight, and without thinking I reach my hand out in an attempt to break him from his panic. He flinches back staring up at me with too many wide wet eyes. I hesitate- hand hovering just before him, my heart wrenching in my chest. 

Ever so carefully, I curl my fingers around him. He stiffens, freezing in place. I brush my thumb across his cheek, gently wiping away a trail of tears dripping down the too hard and too smooth surface of his face. He goes rigid under my touch, but doesn't pull away- instead he looks away, turning his head to avoid my gaze.

I will my hand steady as I hook my finger under his chin, softly guiding his face back to meet mine. 

"Shh." I hush,  "I.. I don't know what's happening, but I'm here to help, okay?" 

As I speak, clawed hands grip onto my finger as his tiny form hunches forward, burying his face against my hand. My skin crawls as I feel his second set of arms unfurl, gripping onto my fingers. The sensation of the far too insect-like texture of their shell and two too many limbs against my skin made me wince- both disgusted with the sensation, but more so with myself for having the disgust cross my mind at all. 

What the fuck is wrong with you?

Almost as if to spite my own thoughts, I wrap my hands around him, in the closest approximation comfort I can think to provide- resenting the way I suppress a cringe as he returns the embrace. 

Muffled chirps spill from between my fingers, his body trembling under my touch. My throat constricts- thigh still rapidly bouncing against the chair. What was I supposed to do? How on Earth was I supposed to offer any comfort? I stroke his side with my thumb, ashamed that fidgeting action was more to comfort myself. I told them I would help them… What am I supposed to do? Is there even anything I can do? My heart wrenches. Fucking useless. In my hands I held a pitiful sight, and there was nothing I could do, no words I could say, no solution I could offer. 

All I could offer were hands to hold him.

[entomolog-t]

INSTAЯ (4)

Technically a SUPER late promtober prompt (Puzzle)

Thank you to everyone who's been asking about INSTAЯ! As a lil treat I thought I'd post this before coming off of my writing hiatus.

Also HUGE thank you to @imber-rose for their AMAZING FANART of Bram and Honey???? I am SO FLATTERED???💕

I give you - charades, anxiety, and the magical art of tidying up.

This chapter deals with the unforseen messes left in the wake of sci-fi mishaps (both literal and mental) so please take a peak at the content warnings.

Taglist: @imber-rose

- - - -

Previous Chapter: Chapter 3

Next Chapter: Chapter 5

Word count: 4230

CW: Gore (descriptions of viscera and butchering), mild body horror, mild panic/anxiety, vague dehumanization, Adult language.

Almost as quickly as the panic had come- it was gone. He’d gone silent in my grasp, having slumped to the floor, leaning with his back against the palm of my hand- still draped loosely around him. He never once looked toward me- instead he stared blankly forward, mind clearly elsewhere as his …mouthparts and antennae twitched with some sort of agitation. 

Without warning, his tiny frame jerks upright, shoving himself out from the tangle of my hands and making long strides towards the notepad, chittering to himself as he paced. His gaze flicks to me briefly, before all too quickly turning away. Hefting up the pen, he leans it against his shoulder- both sets of arms working to stabilize the awkward writing utensil in his grip. 

H…I…D…E

My stomach drops- the hastily scrawled word sending a chill through my spine. Before I can question the message, he clicks, drawing my attention back to him. He points to the word, then to himself, before clasping his hands together, as if… praying? No- begging. 

“Hide you…” My voice is almost a whisper, “From what? Where? I- I don’t- What’s going on?” I can feel my voice raising as I flood him with questions, as if some mental dam had burst. Though, much to my frustration, he holds up a hand, a sharp series of distinctly aggravated clicks interrupting me. Shushing me. He shakes his head- dismissing my questions. Instead, he points to the pile of the discarded exoskeleton in the kitchen, then toward the direction of the living room. Before I’m able to ask for clarification, he resumes writing. 

B...U…R…N

A dryness fills my mouth. I swallow. A single word forms in my mouth,

“W-why?”

Each letter feels as though it takes an eternity to take shape as he struggles with the pen. Dan? Dang?? My face falls, realization hitting me. 

D… A…N…G…E…R

As he finishes the last letter, he turns, pointing the pen towards me. 

“M-me?” I stare at him, stunned- unsure of what to say, “N-no, I - I’m not-”

He huffs- handing off the pen to his lower set of arms as he dramatically gestures with his primary pair. Arms outstretched towards me he makes a loose fist with one hand, and with the other he shoves his fingers into the first in an almost crude gesture. He does the gesture again, this time even more exaggerated, fingers making an arching path towards his fist. 

“Inside?” He shakes his head, chittering with annoyance. He teeters a hand back and forth making a so-so gesture before pointing to me, replicating the unknown sign and then pointing back to danger.

“I.. I’m… in-” All at once it clicks- my heart stopping in my chest with the realization, “I’m in danger.”

He nods vigorously. I swallow the quickly building feeling of unease in attempt to squeeze out simple yet poignant question;

“From… you…?”

He hesitates for an uncomfortable moment before bobbing his head side to side, repeating the so-so gesture. A knot tightens in my stomach, a feeling of unease twisting and snaking in my gut as if my insides had been turned to eels desperate to escape the confines of my body.

“From that??” My heart races as I point to the remnants of his shed exoskeleton. Was it toxic? I touched it- Honey had chewed on it - 

He shakes his head.

He points to me, and as if on cue I echo the verbal component to the sign.

“I…”

He points to his head. 

“Head?... Brain? Think-”  He abruptly holds up his hands, halting me from continuing guessing.

“I think…” Nodding, he then points to himself, then to danger.

“I think you danger?” My brows knit together in confusion at the stunted sentence. He repeats the gestures, this time adding a long pause before pointing to danger. 

“I think you; Danger?” Even though he nods, I feel lost. Was I supposed to follow? He repeats the sign for think, followed by slowly pinching his finger and thumb together, then giving me a thumbs up. 

“Think small.. Good” I say almost to myself, before attempting to somewhat correct the sentence, “Think little; good.”

I think you; danger. Think little… good??

What the Hell was that supposed to mean? 

I mull over the words, trying to make sense of them. 

I think about you, danger- think less is good… dangerous to think? Dangerous to know..? 

I freeze- the garbled sentence suddenly seeming to click. A much clearer phrase reinterpreting and replacing the stunted translation of his signs.

“It's dangerous to know too much. The less I know the better?”

He claps his hands together, giving me a ridiculous four thumbs up. He drops his hands, looking away for a moment before seemingly reconsidering. He holds up a single closed first, slowly raising his fingers one at a time until he reaches four, before pointing to his wrist as if asking for the time. 

I smile, a weird sense of pride bubbling up as I feel myself starting to get the hang of this strange guessing game.

“For now.”  He nods, and I continue, “Can I at least know your name?”

He looks startled at the question- his tail swishing back and forth as he considers. With the unwieldy pen in hands, one at a time he points to a handful of letters he’s already drawn out;

B… R… A… M

“I can’t say it’s been nice to meet you, Bram.” I say with an awkward chuckle. My chuckle turns to a genuine laugh as one of Bram’s many hands flips me off, the casual human-ness of the gesture looking almost comical when juxtaposed with his less than human physique. Carefully, I pinch the obscene gesture between my thumb and forefinger, suppressing a cringe at the all too insect-like feel of his appendage. The texture somehow both hard and thin- something between an eggshell and dried leaves.

“Dawn Delacroix” I say, giving his hand a gentle shake, “How can I lend a hand?”

Bram pulls his hand away to immediately begin gesturing again. His gestures are sharp and insistent as he points to the word hide, then himself, before repeating his signs for four and now. 

As soon as I nod, he continues, gesturing to shush, pointing to burn, and once again signing now.

“Burn it now and keep quiet about this - right?” 

Bram chirps, nodding. I nod along. I comprehend the message, yet internally my mind is whirling.

What the fuck was I getting myself into… Hide him?? From what? Why was I burning the…- was I burning evidence??

With a deep inhale, I force the questions to the back of my mind. Just get him out of sight for now. One thing at a time.

I eye the strange little man up and down, shifting my weight from foot to foot.  

“When you say 'hide’ you don’t just mean keeping you in the house, eh?” I note, my brow furrowing, “Like, you want me to hide you like ‘my house is going to get searched’ hide you?”

Slowly, he nods. 

Despite suspecting the answer, I feel the blood drain from my face all the same. Instinctively, I go to chew on my thumb, stopping myself with a grimace before actually biting down.

“Fuck. Okay. Right. This is- It’s fine.” I lie. My mind is a freeway of thoughts rushing past me- and I’m stuck feeling like some poor animal dodging transport trucks.  

Why was he .. like this?

What happened to him?

Why were people after him?

Had he escaped something? Hurt someone?

I had somehow come to have tasked myself with protecting him from some unknown entity without knowing a single thing about the situation. What kind of people pleaser bullshit was this? I was in way over my head. This was dangerous- yet here I was diving in head first.

As I tried to shake the questions from my thoughts, one seemed to stay stuck- as if it had somehow become a permanent fixture in the forefront of my mind;

Should I really be doing this? 

Despite all that I want to tell myself, I know I don’t have an answer. 

Restless, my hand drags along my face and I aggressively rub at my brow as if forcing my face to relax would somehow force me to relax as well. Unsurprisingly, the action is utterly useless. Fuck. What am I doing? What if I’m in trouble? What if I make things worse? How am I supposed- 

There's the sudden sensation of contact- an involuntary shiver shoots down the length of my spine. 

As if pulled back to reality from his touch, my eyes fall onto Bram- one of his tiny hands laid on top of my own. He stood, looking up at me with what I could only assume was concern in the inky black of those far too many eyes. A shudder creeps its way across my neck- feeling all too similar to the sensation of an insect crawling on my skin. His touch made my skin crawl- it was uncanny in far too many ways. So human, yet so …. Not. He himself was too hard, yet his touch too light. It lacked warmth, not in intent, but physically lacked the warmth of human touch. His clawed fingers felt as though a pin was being dragged on my skin, not painful… but catching. 

As if some primordial instinct takes hold I yank my hand back, fingers curling into a fist as if to hide themselves from the unexpected and unsettling contact.

Bram’s antennae fold down, his hand still hanging limply in the air where mine had been not a second ago. The sight of him sends a wave of guilt crashing over me. With a forced smile, I let my hand relax in front of him, awkwardly pretending as if I hadn’t just cringed away from his touch. 

For some reason unbeknownst to me, my mind wanders back to his horrified reaction to his… current state. The way he’d cried into my hand- the feeling of helplessness that washed over me... Being able to do nothing but offer what little comfort I could. My stomach twists as I think of him trying to do the same for me. This had to be horrifying for him… For all my feelings of helplessness, I couldn’t imagine a fraction of the helplessness that he must be going through. 

I exhale. The act seeming to catch him off guard- his antennae shooting up as he regards me.  

Now was not the time to chew on these heavy questions. He needed help, I would figure the rest out later. 

Man, I need a drink- 

As soon as the thought enters my mind it's as if it sets a cascade of dominoes in motion. I’m met with teenage memories of Clyde and his buddies sneaking whatever alcohol they could scavenge into some ridiculous hiding spot he'd jimmy rigged straight into the drywall behind his bed. 

I smile.

That could work…

"Let's get you hidden, Big Man." His eyes narrow at the impromptu nickname, but he keeps his chirps to himself. I move my hand towards him before we both simultaneously pause, likely sharing one very awkward thought;

How was this going to work?

In something weirdly akin to two people trying to walk past one another but unsure of which direction to pick, we both continued in an awkward stop-start motion. 

"Here- uh, just let me-" I slid my hand behind him, scooping him at his knees. Rather than calmly remaining seated, a shrill chirp was all the warning I had before he began scrambling in my grip, his weird insectoid claws gripping into my skin in a way that, while not physically painful, was mentally disturbing. 

"Woah, woah- Bram!" My free hand shoots up to block the edge, as if he were some frightened animal about to jump to "safety." Instead, all four arms latched onto my finger, squeezing with a significant amount of force for his size. My brow furrows as I regard him,

"You good?" 

His head swivels, looking over his shoulder and back at me with a palpable anger in those tiny eyes. He let out a string of strained chirps, and despite not understanding a word he was saying, it didn't take much to understand it was littered with profanity. 

"Not a fan of heights, I'm assuming?" If looks could kill I'd be dead last week. In a gesture that needed no translation, Bram flipped me off.

As he tugged against my finger, I took the hint and curled my grip around him- wincing at the uncanny sensation of him in my grasp. It felt like holding a particularly large and eerily human-shaped beetle. Though, despite my own discomfort, Bram seemed at least somewhat more at ease in the security of a closed fist. 

I took a step. 

Immediately his primary set of arms were once again gripped onto my finger, claws digging into the meat- not enough to break the skin, though I assumed that courtesy was unintentional. At my movement, I heard the telltale jingle of Honey's collar as she padded to my side- clearly excited at the notion of some sort of activity other than gnawing on discarded exoskeleton.

Bram chittered nervously at her approach. I pull him close to me, making sure to hold him out of reach as Honey circles us, tail wagging with excited curiosity.

"Don't worry," I say, trying to put his nerves at ease, "She's a good girl, I promise- just a little excited after… everything." 

Though even as I say that, thoughts of Honey snapping at June bugs fill my mind- the nasty crunch they would make when she eventually caught them seemed to ring in my ears. I swallow dryly. 

Maybe it was best not to leave her unattended with him.

In the least obvious way I can manage, I shoo her away, nudging her with my foot as she circles around me. Honey somewhat acquiesces to my unspoken command, opting instead to trail behind me, still noisy but thankfully not nearly as pushy.

Good enough. The thought feels like the mental equivalent of a sigh. 

As I walk, I can’t help but notice how he flinches with every step, his whole body bracing as though I’d suddenly forget how to carry something. His tail flicks with what little room he has under my snug grasp, yet he remains quiet, eyes glued straight ahead as I make my way to Clyde's old room.

He all but dives off my hand as I move to set him down on the floor beside me, quickly moving himself out of the way as I join him on the floor. A flock of dust bunnies scatter as I reach under the bed, groping around for a solid spot to grip the small section of discreetly altered baseboard.

A smile crosses my face as the "door" swings open- immediately vanishing as my eyes fall on the interior of the wall. My smile is replaced with horror at the sight of empties littering the length of the inner wall- empties undoubtedly left from Clyde's long since passed teenage years. 

"Well look at that! Your room even comes with its own bar." I catch a whiff of the sour smell and grimace. Bram’s inky black eyes glare back at me, and even with his lack of visible sclera, I had no doubt he had rolled his eyes at the remark. 

"I'm sorry-” I chuckle awkwardly, mortified at the sight, “Brothers aren't really known for being the cleanest of creatures." Unable to add anything of note without the aid of the pen and paper, Bram shrugs, offering a half hearted thumbs up in response. His talon-like claws click softly on the wood floor as he moves to investigate his potential temporary residence. 

"You know," I feel a smile tug at the corners of my lips, a small half laugh slipping out at the strange turn of events, "When I first found you this morning I was terrified at the thought of you escaping into my walls."

His antennae perk up, oddly reminiscent of eyebrows raising in shock- or, more likely, offense.  That distinction was made much more clear as he proceeded to flip me off while buzzing angrily, the sound somewhere between a phone vibration and a particularly offended bee. 

His casual demonstration of profanity for some reason or other, put me at ease. I chuckle, the tension leaving my body, if only for a moment.

“I'll be back soon.”

Without further charades, I close the door, sealing Bram inside the wall. Part of me feels a pang of guilt for not thinking to grab some sort of light, but beggars, as well as potential fugitives, can’t be choosers. As I push myself back to a stand- physically feeling the weight of the day's events bearing down on me. A nagging urge to stop and critically think about what on Earth had transpired itches at the edge of my mind- yet I refused to scratch. There was a sort of mental momentum I had built up, a series of tasks to complete one after the other, and the knowledge that the moment I stopped to pick apart the situation in its entirety said momentum would send me crashing into reality. 

We can panic about this later. One thing at a time.

One foot in front of the other, I tear myself from the room- away from the strange little man who probably had all the answers, yet none of the words, or willingness, to share them. Honey reluctantly follows, letting out a soft whine in protest the same way she would if I were to take away a toy or an old bone. I grimace at the comparison. 

Yeah, let's not leave her alone with him.

________

I surveyed the sci-fi nightmare my home had become. Kitchen to livingroom, various degrees of carnage were scattered, and worse yet, splattered, around across the floor. With no small effort, I resist the urge to gag. My once beautiful hardwood was littered with discarded… parts of what had apparently once been Bram. The cracked bits of his outer shell, while undeniably gross when I thought too much about it, were not that bad. 

It was the flesh that made my skin crawl. 

I was no stranger to flesh. Hunting had long since suppressed my gag reflex when it came to viscera… and yet that was precisely what made it worse. I knew what it should be. I knew how it should feel… and that knowledge left me deeply aware of just how wrong everything was.

It was the colours that I noticed first.

Some flesh seemed almost normal, save for something uncanny with the degree of saturation, but the more I cleaned, the more oddities I found. Pieces of flesh so deeply red they neared the point of being back. The pieces far too tough, almost solid to the touch. 

Everything was coated in a strange slick opalescent mucous. Everything had this odd iridescent sheen. Though the fluids weren’t limited to the unnatural looking mucus. For a lack of better terminology, there was a general… ooze.  A sickly blend of various fluids; an opaque pale yellow transitioning into some sickly greyish green… and red… so much red the floor looked black until disturbed by my frantic wiping. 

What… what was all this?

What parts of him?

My stomach churned. The shed remains weren’t all just one consistency. There were… shapes in the flesh, lumps in the ooze. Whatever the inconsistencies in the gorey sludge had once been was impossible to tell, the lumps having lost much of their shape as if degraded by something.

My eyes flashed to my gloves- thankfully, still intact. 

I sigh, wincing as I inhale the strange stale smell that had undoubtedly bled into the flooring. It wasn’t particularly foul, in fact, it was almost familiar, which in itself made it far worse-  the smell of raw meat. 

My throat clenches at the thought, and I struggle to suppress the involuntary response to start dry heaving. 

Don’t think. Just clean. 

No different from gutting a deer. 

No difference at all. 

My hands move idly, picking up piece after horrific piece. The pile dwindles, replaced by a collection of dangerously heavy garbage bags in the center of the room, leaving nothing but the slowly congealing ooze to tackle. Armed with a worryingly complex array of disinfectants, I begin working away at the fluids.

My stomach churns as I try desperately to force my brain to think about anything else aside from the liquid carnage I’m sopping up with a month's worth of paper towel. Anything at all. 

Though the ‘anything’ that seems to permeate my mind, while less disgusting, is no less worrisome. 

Just what was happening? My teeth dug into the flesh of my lip as I scrubbed harder, as if the answer lay somewhere under the layers of- 

Was Bram really human? He seemed human... Maybe? His mannerisms were normal enough, save the extra appendages. But if he was human…

Why was he hiding? A distinct anxiety began to swell in my chest, and with it, a much more worrisome question came rising into my throat

Just who was he hiding from? 

…and how long until they got here?

_______

For all my monumental efforts in cleaning, it seemed as though Honey lived to do the opposite. Her fur, once a light golden color, was a horrible mishmash of the various fluids that had been splattered across my floor. Snout to tail she was caked in a thick mucosal slime that had rapidly begun to crust over as it dried, becoming flaky and, ugh, crunchy. 

From behind the filth, Honey stares up at me, her warm brown eyes filled with an innocent pleading as I stare down the nozzle at her- my finger hovering on the trigger. 

She whines softly.

I don't hesitate. 

Without a second thought, I spray her down- holding tight to her collar as she squirms in my grip, the cool spray from the hose apparently far less appealing than the rapidly decaying innards of some sci-fi mishap. I empty a container of dawn dish soap over her as she whines in protest, all the while desperately hoping that if Dawn worked for ducks in oil spills it’d work for dogs in biohazards as well. 

From I could tell, it seemingly had done the trick.

As I finished rinsing her off, Honey finally managed to wriggle free, zipping off to dart around the yard to run off her offense at, God forbid, being clean. 

My eyes hesitantly left her, moving to scan the lengthy driveway. I was almost expecting to see some unmarked government vehicle driving down to come and interrogate me.

How much time did I have before someone showed up? What was I even supposed to say? Hell- what were they going to say? ‘Hey Ma’am, have you seen a strange bug-person-thing in the area?’

A shaky breath blew past my lips as I forced out any hypothetical thoughts. 

We’ll burn that bridge when we get to it. 

My eyes flick towards the stack of pallets and scrap wood leaning up against the garage. 

But first we have more important things to burn. 

__________

The warmth of the fire pricks at my skin, or maybe it was the lingering bits of Bram sludge and it's undetermined acidity slowly burning through my skin-

With an exhale, I banish the thought before it can fully form. 

Everything’s fine. Kind of. Not really. I was harboring what was more and more in hindsight seeming like some fugitive alien or awol government experiment within the walls of my home. There was no way this wasn’t some type of felony, right? I was tampering with… evidence? A crime scene? 

What even was this?

I massage the bridge of my nose, my eyes immediately watering at the remaining smell of gasoline on my hands- no other reason. 

The fire continues to blaze on, the occasional pop and hiss emanating from the rapidly shrinking pile of charred remains. Around me, birds sang. I could hear the trill of chickadees and vireos as they hopped along the edge of the treeline. A soft breeze whispers through the foliage, rustling the leaves scattered on the ground. The early morning fog seemed to ease and give way to the everwarming rays of sunshine… 

I took a deep breath. 

Aside from the pungent odor of gasoline, there was a freshness in the air, as there so often was in fall. A crispness to the chill entering my lungs, with the sharp scent of evergreen dancing on each breath. I held out my hands, letting the heat from the fire soak into them.

It was turning out to be a beautiful day- clear skies, with the sun passively warming the October air. The atmosphere seemed to set a precedent. A subtle nod that everything would be okay.

I exhaled. 

Maybe everything really would be fine.

A soft vibration at my side pulls my attention to my phone. 

In my chest, my heart turns to ice- a sinking feeling of dread washing over me as I read the notification. 

Trail Cam Alert: Movement detected by NW BOUNDARY CAM at 8:06 am

[entomolog-t]

Which one of your characters gives the best hugs? And who gives the worst?

Sal and Rose would definitely give the best hugs out of my OC lineup. They are both two very physical individuals (who may be a little overly touchy), and aren't afraid to give that lil bit of a squeeze to a hug that just makes you feel cherished and safe.

Though Sal definitely loses points if you have the misfortune of being the same size of him for his general griminess- oddly enough, he's not overly stinky despite his infrequent bathing ... Sure he can get a bit ripe, but most times he smells like dirt, evergreen... and something fresh, tart and sweet.... almost lemony? maybe... citronella?

(This is a little bit of a spoiler if anyone can connect the dots)

In general- I'd say Mark, Tamius and Bram are all bad huggers for most interactions

Mark is shy and awkward, especially with physical contact.

Tamius isn't very physically affectionate with others, especially humans.

Bram - Well... Bram's hugs would feel uncanny. His exoskeleton makes it a hard surface, and not warm. Given his size and claws and extra limbs, he feels very insectoid/inhuman, but with the added weirdness of technically being able to hug just as a person would. Very "this feels wrong" overall with his hugs. Bonus- he's also a bit of an awkward hugger. Not nearly as bad as Mark or as reluctant as Tamius, but if its for consoling someone, or if he's forced to hug its extremely awkward/stiff.

---

Since I mentioned nearly all my oc, I'll toss in the 3 remaining ones-

Both Aedes and June are tender with hugs- the kind of people that just melt into a hug and linger just a moment longer...

Dawn I'm not too sure... She tries to hug Honey but Honey is a busy good girl with lots of things to do like bug the neighbors or figure out where the treats (or Bram) is hidden. TBD

[entomolog-t]

INSTAЯ (2)

Prompt 2 Discovery for Promptober!! The speed at which I pumped this out is uncanny.

Dawn investigates - Honey ... does her own thing.

General warning, this chapter is still fairly horror oriented, and a few scenes can best be described as "Yucky." The content warnings are not extreme, but be wary of you're sensitive to any of the topics.

- - - -

Previous Chapter: Chapter 1

Next Chapter: Chapter 3

Word count: 1685

CW: Gore/Gross out (Blood/viscera, mild body horror, vomit) Mentions of firearms, Adult language.

The silence persisted, yet I sat still- back pressed firmly against the dresser. Time seemed to slip by me. I sat in wait, certain that if I moved an inch- if I made even the slightest sound- the creature would come crashing against the door. I stayed motionless, my every nerve firing with adrenaline. Anticipation weakened my grasp on time, minutes slipping by like sand through my fingers. Minutes turned to hours, and the night turned to dawn. 

As the first rays of soft orange light drifted through the window, my room was cast in a paradoxically comforting glow- a subtle shift in atmosphere occurring. The morning sun breathed life into the world outside; Birds chirped- swooping and diving to catch insects in the early morning mist. It was calm- comforting even. A beautiful and serene atmosphere bent on putting me at ease- which was exactly what I feared. 

Eyelids heavy, my head dipped for a split second, nearly lulled to sleep by the surrounding tranquility- only for me to jerk awake with a gasp- a jolt of fear snapping me back to consciousness. Despite the fear, despite knowing that thing could be right outside, I couldn’t help but nod off in the quiet serenity of the early morning after the toll of last night's events. 

I shook my head. No. Stay awake. 

It was quiet- it had been for hours now. I chewed at my thumb, nervously picking at the skin as I considered my options. I had to get out of here, and there was no way I was getting far without my keys. As if in protest, my mind conjures up memories of the creature catching the bat- crumpling it like tinfoil. Though… that thing had also crumpled… I thought back to its staggered steps, the way it had begun to fall apart right in front of me…  The agonized wails…

The way it had seemed almost scared…

I tasted blood on my tongue as I chewed the skin of my thumb raw. 

Was it dying? Maybe it’s already dead… 

I clenched my teeth, tension growing as I considered what to do. It had been quiet- and I needed those keys. My heart pounded in my chest, anticipation pushing away the exhaustion. 

As quietly as I could manage, I nudged the dresser back, teetering it side to side to walk it back quietly. I paused- met with nothing but silence. A part of me hated that. A cowardly part of me longed for the excuse of needing to stay put- clinging to temporary shelter at the cost of the long term. 

Carefully, I eased the door open- praying that the hinges were good and oiled. Once again, I was met with silence. My hands shook, bracing for whatever sight would great me on the opposite side of the door. My heart thundered in my chest so aggressively I was worried it would summon the creature straight back to me and- 

Honey shoved past me, pushing herself through the door and into the hall as if the events of last night had been wiped clean from her brain. 

No. No. No.

“Honey!” I hissed, whisper yelling through gritted teeth “Get back here.” She turned her head to me briefly in acknowledgement, tongue lolling out to the side before completely disregarding me- instead choosing to sniff a trail down the hallway and out of sight into the living room. 

That fearless fucking idiot. 

After a moment's hesitation I follow after her, steps hasty but light as I power forward. Honey comes trotting back before I can make it down the hall, tail wagging as she carries something in her mouth. 

What does she- 

As she gets closer realization dawns on me- I watch in disgust as she shakes a thick chunk of the creature's shell back and forth as if it were one of her numerous toys. A thick liquid is flung to either side of her as she shakes it, and I can only hope that it's drool and not whatever vile ooze had been seeping from the creature. 

Honey bows down in front of me, butt in there air and tail wagging so aggressively her whole body shakes as she gnaws on it. I suppress a gag. 

“Fuck- ew. No. Honey. Drop it.”  

Honey drops the thick chunk to the ground with a clatter and I flinch at the sound. Even still, the silence persists. I reach down and pick up the chunk. It's thick and heavy- though I don’t take the time to inspect it any further as I toss back into the bedroom, landing it softly onto the bed. 

Honey chases after it. I press on forward. Somehow, despite all the fear and anticipation, I feel a growing sense of annoyance. An emotion that only grows in potency as I hear the clack of her claws against the hardwood as she follows after me, placing the slab of shed exoskeleton in my hand. 

Oh, for Fuck’s sake. 

I open the bathroom door and stick the shed armor on the counter- promptly shutting the door before Honey could retrieve her new found toy. Not in the least bit dissuaded, Honey trots off ahead again, much to my frustration. Though, the silence and the carefree demeanor of my fearless idiot seemed to ease some of the tension. Had it left? 

Was it dead? 

A crunching sound breaks through the silence, my heart lurching into my throat. My pace quickened. 

Fuck. Was it still here?

I rounded the corner and was greeted with a grisly sight. A mixture of relief and unease filled me as the creature itself was nowhere to be seen- well… At least not all of it. 

Honey rolled in a pile of gooey exoskeleton, disturbing the horrific stench of stale rot with her every move. Her warm yellow fur coated in a sickly ooze, a putrid combination of a pussy looking substance and the bloody viscera it had thrown up the night before.  She joyfully wriggled on the floor, its shell crunching beneath her as she chewed at whatever was nearest to her mouth. 

I threw up.

A small heave was all the warning I had before I doubled over, bile and the acidic remains of last night's dinner spilling past my lips- hot and wet. Through teary eyes, I glared at Honey. She stared back happily, moving to chew on a chunk of what seemed to be a part of its arm as if it were a bone. I gagged. 

Fuck it. Let her occupy herself. 

Shooting my dog one last disappointed glare, I passed through the livingroom and into the kitchen. The floor was littered with more chunks of the creature, yet nowhere near the volume of that of the livingroom. Blood and ooze was slick against the linoleum and I carefully watched my step as I tiptoed around the carnage.  

I flinch at the clicking of Honey’s nails on the floor. She struts over, tail wagging as if this is the best day of her life, another gruesome chunk in her mouth- stringy bits of flesh hanging off the piece. I feel bile rise in my throat and forcefully swallow it back down. 

“Get,” I hiss, shooing her away as I peek my head in the dining room.

Nothing. 

Behind me I can hear as she tosses the chunk around, clamoring after it with a yip. 

So much for staying quiet. 

I surveyed the room. Not a single thing was out of place. I shiver- something felt off.  

Just where the fuck was the rest of it?

A clatter in the livingroom nearly sends my heart skyrocketing out of my mouth, as Honey continues to play with the carnage. I shudder at the very idea of how I was supposed to clean up the aftermath of whatever had occurred last night.

No… not aftermath.

Something was still very off. Where could that thing have crawled off to…

I feel a chill creep up my spine. Scenes from various horror movies of monsters crawling on the ceiling forcing themselves into my head. Slowly, I look up, heart thundering in my ears- 

Nothing. 

I force a laugh. Guess it's not that much of a horror movie. Though even as I chuckle, the unease doesn’t subside- a voice at the back of my mind urging me to go get the gun from the garage. 

As I go to slip out the side door I freeze. The handle doesn’t budge. Dread settles in my gut. I never lock the side door- why was it locked? Realization dawns on me- that persistent off feeling coming to a climax… Hastily, I double back through the kitchen toward the entryway. Honey joins me, her whole body wagging as she carries another chunk of the creature in her mouth. 

My eyes fall on the door and my mouth goes dry. 

The front door is closed- locked from the inside. 

It was still here. 

Another, much more unnerving thought followed. It had known to lock the doors. 

I found myself biting my thumb- regretting the nervous habit after realizing I’d touched that thing’s oozing shed body parts. Where the fuck had it gone? Did it just evaporate under its shell? Some crash landed alien rapidly expiring under earth’s atmosphere? My spiraling thoughts are interrupted by Honey leaning up against me, oblivious to anything other than wanting to play with her new “toy.” 

I exhale. 

That fearless idiot. As I patted her flank I felt as logic eased away some of the tension. Honey would have alerted me if it was in the house, right? I was barely able to call her off that monstrosity last night.

I look down at her, her sweet puppy dog eyes staring back up at me as she wags her tail hopefully. 

Fuck it. 

I place my hand in front of her, signaling her to drop it. 

Excited by the prospect of fetch, Honey eagerly acquiesces. 

The moment the weight hits my hands, I immediately feel something is off- Movement. Whatever the fuck she had grabbed was moving. 

I scream.

[entomolog-t]

Ooo you lil diddle on handhelds got me thinking: some bigs get really self conscious around smalls so they make sure they’re as groomed as possible. No dry skin, clean soft clothes, nice scent sprayed on them, etc they just want cuddles and try their best to not scare smalls

I love this- I'd be so scent conscious I'd probably end up drowning a poor tiny in overcompensation perfume. Though I feel like no amount of TLC would make my hands incredible welcoming for a tiny. I have had a few significant injuries leading to some pretty intensive scars and unsteady hands- plus lifting leaves me with nasty callouses. On top of that I get sweaty hands when I'm nervous 😭

I loved this ask so much I wanted to share what some of my OCs would do -

June has started using hand cream far more often, and gets her nails done on a more regular basis considering her hands are now going to be under much closer scrutiny than she's used to.

Mark washes his hands at least 3 times as much since meeting Sal- though thats less to be cleanly for Sal, and more so to clean himself after handling the nasty lil dirt gremlin. Though, Mark has started wearing clothes that have pockets/hoods for Sal's comfort.

Dawn could care less about how the cranky little bug man perceives her hands after what he did to her hardwood floors.

[entomolog-t]

what would the turning point be for your tiny characters to momentarily set aside their pride + autonomy, give in to being cared for, and go docile?

- drinkme

OHOHO! I sat on this one for a little while to mull it over well.

Aedes - This is actually a theme that will be explored pretty heavily in Bite me (and not the way you might initially expect). There is an intrinsic danger in the vulnerability that being small creates, but vulnerability is not only associated with fear/danger, but paradoxically with trust and intimacy. There is an interesting line that Aedes teeters on, both loving and and craving along with hating and resenting vulnerability. There are actually a few key turning points that are set to would have Aedes but his pride - the main one being connection, things like genuine tenderness and even arousal just push the way that his vulnerability is felt just enough that he's able to let go. THOUGH- there is another important reason/factor that would also work well, however it is a major spoiler and quite a bit darker.

Sal- Sal is a bit different from Aedes. While both have a deep rooted loneliness and desire for connection, Sal's isolation has been far more intense than Aedes'. Sal has very little issue being doted on as long as he still feels in control/doesn't feel emasculated- for example, the man has zero issue being carried, but being grabbed is a big no-no. Yet, this is where it gets interesting. Despite him wanting to have control Sal so desperately wants to feel cared for that he's still be willing to cross that line, however reluctantly, for a taste of connection/being cared for-essentially he'd accept humiliation as a cost for feeling loved/cared about.

Tamius- YOU GUYS ARE IN FOR A TREAT WITH HIM 👀 He's a prideful little rat of a man. He is not one to fall easily into docility and the circumstances would need to be dire, or he'd have to be in a more altered/vulnerable state (drunk/pain/possibly extreme fear etc..). Though to small degree there are small acts of care he just has to accept for convenience due to his incoming situation, though those are begrudgingly accepted as circumstantial.

Bram- Bram is going through alot right now. His first glimpse of himself was particularly hard and he was more than willing to let go of his pride for some aspect of compassion and comfort due to anguish. I think for Bram in particular his key would be focused around acknowledgement to some degree (gonna avoid elaborating lest we enter spoiler territory.) Though Bram is quite to dismiss and brush off those moments as well. Interesting thing to note - Dawn is not incredibly nurturing or doting (and least in the more explicit/verbal ways) and I think the fact that that degree of soft care isn't readily available leads to Bram being more susceptible to being okay with it or even yearning for it.

[entomolog-t]

Probably too many for one ask but I didn't want to miss anyone out lol

🌙 - What’s their sleep schedule like? For Aedes

💤 - What do they absolutely need to have to fall asleep? For June

🖌️ - Do they have any hobbies? For Sal

🍽️ - What’s their favorite food? For Betty

🤡 - What’s something dumb they’re embarrassed about? For Mark

💝 - What gestures do they really appreciate? How do you get on their good side? For Bram

🍪 - How well can they bake? For Dawn

🤔 - What’s something they’ll never understand? For Tamius

🌱 - Do they have a green thumb or are they a plant killer? For Rose

AHH I LOVE THAT YOU DIDN'T LEAVE ANYONE OUT💕

What’s Aedes' sleep schedule like?

Aedes is nocturnal by nature- It's easiest to prey on humans among other things in the dark/while they're sleeping. Sunlight tends to make him feel open and exposed, where as darkness acts almost as a security blanket for him. Though his sleeping habits are notably impacted by the presence of June...

What does June absolutely need to have to fall asleep?

As hinted at in the first chapter of Bite Me, June sleeps with an open window- she needs a room cold and preferably having fresh air.

Does Sal have any hobbies?

ABSOLUTELY - That lil gremlin is always looking for new things to do/try. He loves working with his hands, crafting tools, wood working, even sewing (specifically accessories for his 8 legged ladies). A lot of his hobbies are born out of necessity for his life style (foraging, climbing, hunting, etc..) but if we're talking specifically for fun/to pass time he loves to take things apart. Lil man loves to figure out how things work and will disassemble and attempt to reassemble things he's interested in. Do not leave him unattended with valuables.

What’s Betty's favorite food?

Betty is SPOILED! She particularly likes crickets as they're more fun to hunt, but taste wise she has a bit of a sweet tooth fang and and Sal absolutely spoils her with strawberries from time to time. You know those videos of pet owners putting together those very extra meals for their pets? That is 100% Sal with Betty. He insists she prefers Rosey Maple Moths, and will pair it with a nectar source to make it "extra special/pretty" for his precious girl. He's even taken to cooking isopods/potato bugs for her as an occasional treat.

What’s something dumb Mark's embarrassed about?

Ironically enough- his height. Mark is around 5ft3 is fairly self conscious about it.

What gestures does Bram really appreciate? How do you get on their good side?

Value wise Bram deeply respects courage, specifically being able to make sacrifices for others. He's not fond of people pleasing niceties and much prefers direct and blunt communication.

Tangible gestures?

He likes food.

Feed him and it goes straight to his heart (Homeboy craves to be nurtured).

How well can Dawn bake?

Dawn is quite the baker, and cook in general. She's close with a few Mennonites (who also happen to run a local bakery) and learned a lot of her baking techniques though them. She doesn't bake sweets too often, usually making them for Holidays/special occasions, though she does make her own bread!

What’s something Tamius will never understand?

Women

Tamius doesn't see the appeal of sports, more specifically high intensity/contact sports. He understands the joys of competition, as well as being physically active, and being able to defend oneself is important- yet the thought of doing it for some self imposed sense of duty? Fun? Not out of preparation/ self preservation, but to put your body through undue strain and harm for what? the amusement of others? Baffling.

Does Rose have a green thumb or are they a plant killer?

FUNNY YOU SHOULD ASK THIS.

Rose is a plant hoarder. Her entire home is just filled with greenery (Which Tamius quite appreciated in terms of quick/easy hiding spots).

[entomolog-t]

Some questions for/about your lovely characters:

Bram - 8 - Do complex puzzles intrigue or frustrate them?

Dawn - 15 - What would they consider a waste of time– other than school or work?

June - 30 - What would they do if they knew it would be forgiven?

Aedes - 26 - Talent or effort?

Bram hates complex puzzles, with strategy games occasionally being an exception (except if he's losing) so he is not at all happy about his current "charades/signing" situation. He's liable to throw things💀

Dawn is very much "There's a time and place for everything" for the majority of things- minus TV. Girlie can't stand sitting down and wasting time on what she would consider "absolutely nothing." She's got far too many chores and far too little sleep to consider watching TV.

OOF- June would probably be a lot more hands on with Aedes, as long as he wasn't full on panicking. On a less intense scale, if she could get away with it she'd "accidentally" spill something on him. That white shirt is just begging to get wet- I don't make the rules 🤷‍♀️

This is actually a concept that gets explored in Bite Me coincidentally. Aedes is naturally very talented and at the current moment, does not inherently value effort. Not in the sense he thinks it's bad, but his life style doesn't really lead him to being able to explore his own talents, and dedication to a skill is a lot higher up in Maslov's hierchy of needs than where this man is dwelling, so it's just not really a concern for him.

[entomolog-t]

I just binged INSTAЯ and I’m hooked! Any lore drops you can spare for a lil reader?

Y E S

I'm so glad instaЯ is getting a lil attention!

I actually have the next chapter ready to drop in the new year, and it's a long one! 💕

Trying to lore drop without massive spoilers for this one is hard, since all the juicy lore is directly related to big plot points.

I do have some lil crumbs to share though-

You'll see the name Clyde mentioned occasionally- that's Dawn's older brother. He moved away to go to University (more so to play varsity hockey). Fun fact: Clyde isn't his real name.

Technically a spoiler for the next chapter, but I've been tagging it so it's not a well kept secret- the lil bug guy's name is Bram. After seeing his reflection, Bram routinely tried to cover his mouth or turn his head when opening his mouth.

Bram can make a variety of sounds, albeit, very inhuman sounds. One that I think is particularly interesting (both literally and comically) is he can sound like a cicada.

Dawn makes a portion of her money in a questionably illegal fashion - For a little money on the side Dawn will trade/sell pelts and game meat with other locals. Its a fairly normal small town practice, less akin to overhunting for profit and more so "i cant fit this moose in my deep freezer." She usually just exploits loopholes and technicalities since the town's MNR will occasionally crack down on the practice.

Honey is a 2 year old yellow lab that was a gift from Clyde. She is very intelligent, but unfortunately not very obedient. Honey is extremely interested in Bram, much to everyone's concern.

Lil picture of what Honey looks like 💕

If you have any specific oc or plot related questions about instaЯ I'd be happy to share!

There's a lot I have planned for this story and I'm just super excited that there's interest in it 😭

[entomolog-t]

Can you tell us one or more little ranfom facts about characters of each of your stories you just have but couldn't find a good opportunity to share? Because everyone who have ocs have these

HECK YES!! ANY OPPERTUNITY IS A GOOD ONE!! I gotcha!! But fair warning, this is gonna be a long post 😭💕 Some of these allude to much bigger plot points later on in the stories 👀

Bite Me

Aedes is very much enticed by the color red. Theres definitely some biological reasoning behind it, with him being drawn to blood and such. The same way the a particularly sweet/gourmand perfume may be enticing, that how the color red also stirs something in him.

June is a skilled musician, being able to play an array of instruments at an intermediate level or above. She is a regular at her local bar's open mic nights and karaoke nights.

The Shadow we Cast

Sal has a weird sort of hang up with being handled by people. He doesn't mind being carried- and actually quite enjoys it, having no issue with being near/on people. Despite the fact he's okay being picked up, he is firmly against being grabbed. He has no issue with physical contact on his own terms (and is quite the hypocrite with invading other people's space without it being on their terms) but any prolonged (especially restrictive) contact that was not initiated by him?? Big no no.

Mark struggles with body image issues. He's quite thin/small and has wanted to be in better shape for nearly his entire life but has struggled with feeling self conscious, especially in a gym environment.

Betty will knock things off Sal's shelves if she's not given enough attention. This will often scare Lucy who will scramble away from the commotion (Y'all gonna meet Lucy in the next 1-3 chapters 👀)

INSTAЯ

Bram has a wild array of sounds he can make. He can make these sounds whenever it suits him, however I've listed some typical examples

Example 1 - Frustrated

Example 2 - Scared/angry

Example 3 - This one is interesting, when mixed with more chittering and buzzing sounds, this is close to how Bram sounds trying to speak. Though the chirping/whistling sounds are also what it sounds like when he's laughing/crying.

Dawn is incredibly handy, and tends to fix things/make things herself rather than buying things. She is able to get by without working in a traditional sense, having a lot of odd jobs, favors, and skills that let her get money in unconventional ways.

Honey is a 1-2 year old yellow lab that has a talent for getting into trouble. She occasionally sneaks over to the neighboring farm to torment/play the sheep. The neighboring farm dogs don't mind her company too much, though she's gotten chased off the property for being a nuisance more than once. She has returned home with a calf more than once- much to Dawn's embarrassment.

Clyde is Dawn's brother. He left town to pursue a university education (*cough cough* play varsity hockey).

Finding Strength

Tamius is a highly intelligent borrower with a passion for learning and putting his knowledge to use. He is naturally incredibly gifted over a broad stroke of topics (math, sciences, arts). He is voracious in his search for knowledge and understanding, and is ever infuriated by the relative gap in both access to information and the sheer volume of opportunity had by humans relative to his own kind.

Rose is a varsity wrestler struggling with her identity outside of sport. Dedicated and skilled as an athlete, Rose is an average-ish student who has no clue what path lay ahead of her.