#i am once again apologizing for the people who followed me when i was mass-producing poetry

[thatone-churro]

“yeah man, i write poetry.” <- has not written a complete poem in months

[burnedbyshoto]

shallow or deep

— “Why would you want a guy with such a large and disgusting burn?” he whispered, his tone thoroughly rejected, broken. It was then that it hit you: did he think he wasn't good enough for you. —

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pairing: todoroki shouto x reader

warnings: fluff, angst (insecurities), cursing

word count: 2,544

a/n: I took the shouto has an insecurity over his scar even if it isnt that deep headcanon and ran with it, I hope yall enjoy this!!!! its been awhile since ive managed to write a fic in a single day!!!

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“You’re quite the handsome man!”

“Oh, thank you.”

“But that scar... don’t you want to get that fixed? I know someone with a quirk who can fix that up for you!”

“Thank you for your concern, but I think I am content with it.”

~

“Without a doubt, you are by far one of the most attractive Pro Heroes to have existed!”

“Thank you for your compliment, but I think it’s my ability to—”

“Don’t you think you would look hotter without your scar? Have you ever considered getting it removed?”

“...no, I haven’t…”

~

“Just imagine how Shouto would look like without his scar, here are some edited pictures for reference!”

“Wow, if I didn’t want to give him my life already, I would sell my soul to the devil to get with a scarless Shouto…”

“I don’t know, I think the scars sexy! Like look at it, it makes him so mysterious and badass! Guys with scars are so fucking hot! But in my opinion, without the scar? Shouto isn’t shit!”

“Guys with scars are hot, I’ll give you that, but not one-fourth of the face scars! He’s extremely handsome still, but it’s a bit tacky for the scar to be there. If it had been like Deku’s arm and hand scars — hell, even Eraserheads face scar — he would be so much finer.”

~

“And just how did you get your scar, Shouto?”

The American interviewer who sat in front of Shouto during this live national interview had the kindest smile on her face, but to the Pro Heroes who sat on the stage alongside Shouto could recognize that shark-like glint in her eyes. Her face was calm, tranquil, beautiful, but her eyes sent bitter acid through the Heroes mouth.

“I’ve already explained what happened in a previous interview,” Shouto spoke calmly, his fingers digging into his knees.

Your eyes looked over to your boyfriend, who seemed to be trying everything in his power to remain calm. You’d only seen this happen through a screen, never in real life.

The interviewer seemed unconcerned with his rebuttal, most likely expecting this from the man who wasn’t one for repeating big stories. Her chin tilted up almost like she was looking down on him, looking down on who he was. 

“Well then, I’ll bite,” she leaned forward, and you felt on edge to attack, but a hand gripped your wrist when a cruel smirk spread on her face. “Do you resent your mother for burning you that night? How do you feel about the fact that it was your mother who ruined your charming looks?”

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The car was silent.

Your eyes tried to remain focused on the road ahead of you, but to your misplaced anger and hurt, you focused on the side of Shouto’s face every so often while he drove.

The radio wasn’t even on, something the both of you enjoyed blasting because you would sing stupidly loud and Shouto would hum along in his own mirth. The only sound heard was the tires driving against the gravel road and your irritated breathing. 

The two of you had dropped off your friends five minutes ago, the once awkwardly tense car melting to this angry silence between the two of you in the front. 

You hadn’t defended him on live television because Momo held you back, and Shouto allowed the interviewer to defile his family’s past abuse with her keen touch. The silence between the two of you was also irritating you.

Once the interview was done, Shouto had been the first to rise from his chair and to leave. And you were hot on his heels. You hadn’t been forgiving to Shouto when you finally corned him.

“How could you let her talk to you like that, Shouto?” you blazoned, your heart hammering in your chest, anger, humiliation, and sorrow riling you up. “She was a total fucking cunt, and you just took it!”

Shouto stared down at you, that old yet familiar distant look in his eyes — that anger that burned brighter than any fire he could produce flaming in both eyes. 

“Drop it, y/n,” he all but hissed, his face stone, his tone fierce. “You don’t need to fight every single fucking thing that makes me uncomfortable.”

Those words weren’t enough to make you drop it, had it been any other fight you would have continued to press him for what was wrong with him, but it was that look in his eyes. The old look that you had sworn long ago you’d never allow to meet his eyes again.

The anger, humiliation, and broken look that he used to wear every day.

When Shouto finally parked, he didn’t hesitate to get out of the car, the door slamming loudly while you stumbled to follow after him. 

But he was tall, too tall, and was in the house well before you could close your own door. It didn’t deter the way that you stormed towards the house, the devil, and god riding on your shoulder in this battle to figure out what the hell was wrong with Shouto.

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“I don’t resent my mother,” Shouto cooly stated. “It was an unfortunate accident, but fortunately, it hasn’t kept me from anything. I still have complete sight and functionality, so I’m okay. I could never resent my mother.”

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“Won’t you tell me what’s wrong?” you ask, coming into the house.

This was Shouto’s house, something that Endeavor had gifted to him in his expression of apology. He and his siblings had been given their own homes the moment they turned twenty, and shortly after starting your relationship, he had asked you to move in.

You both were now twenty-three. You were neither each other's firsts on many levels, but there was no denying that this was the best relationship the both of you had. You comforted each other to no level, loved each other like no other. It was almost a shame that you didn’t have any feelings for your old classmate during high school because maybe then you’d been together for longer than a year.

But nevertheless, the two of you held no regrets. His house had become yours with him.

It was a bright place, no matter how dull the day was, it was always vivacious and warm in here.

But not now.

The door closed behind you, and you saw Shouto standing at the kitchen table, head lowered, arms tense. The world seemed grey, dull, and cold. You almost swore the house’s temperature was ten degrees cooler while you approached your boyfriend, who appeared to be trapped in his thoughts.

You neared him, your own anger diminishing slowly when you saw the shadows over his eyes, his teeth gnashing in a grit. 

Sorrow, humiliation, guilt.

That’s all you could read from him, but you needed more from him.

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The interviewer seems to have expected that answer for she remains unfazed, but that predatorial glint in her eyes remains. The eyes of someone who hasn’t shown off their strongest of cards.

“How about relationship-wise? Have any of the beautiful ladies you’ve dated or have wanted to court in the past told you that you’d be much more handsome without it? Don’t you wish that you could be more normal for y/h/n?”

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“Why would you want a guy with such a large and disgusting burn?” he whispered, his tone thoroughly rejected, broken. It was then that it hit you: did he think he wasn't good enough for you.

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You stood up, the chair you were sitting on scraping loudly against the black floor. The interviewer snapped her attention on you for just a moment, eyes sparkling with the thrill of getting a dramatic reaction from someone.

But Momo and Uraraka held you down, and Sero’s tape came across your mouth to keep you from talking your mind.

“There have been words like that before,” Shouto says, his voice steely smooth. “But as you can see, I’m not dating anyone who shares those same opinions.”

The interviewer seemed to deflate at that answer, obviously not the juicy breakdown she was hoping for. She continued down the mass interview with the most successful class from UA’s hero program, and you continued to fume in your seat. Anger that couldn’t even be quieted by the sour emotions coming off of Shouto in large waves.

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“W-What?” you say almost in a horrified whisper.

Your eyes were wide, unsure if you had heard Shouto correctly. You prayed you had. A fist clenched on your chest, your gaze followed Shouto’s clouded face when he stood up completely.

“You heard me right,” he repeats, his focus on the wall. Finally, his blue and grey eyes focus on you; they’re distant, so far away, you weren’t sure if you could get him back anytime soon. A soft sigh ragged in his chest, nearly choking in his throat when he looked at you. “I was never insecure about my scar growing up… I didn’t have anything in sight except for wanting to be a hero, and hell, even through high school, it didn’t matter. No one in our class mentioned it, and I went on to believe that it while it wasn’t normal, it was in some way.” His hands found your cheeks, pressing onto them gently, and you could feel them tremble slightly. “Then I finally liked someone romantically, and we were thrust into the crazy world of media, and I realized that my burn isn’t normal.”

“S-Shouto…”

“The first person I ever dated told me they knew someone who would fix it up for me for free. The second person… well, they were an idiot and thought if we had children, the burn would be transferred over. More and more people both privately and publicly told me that I would be s-so much better without it… Do you think I’d be better without it?” his lips twisted, and you could only stare up in his eyes that seemed so far away so broken. “Even the ones who liked it, it was some weird fetish of theirs… the truth is, I don’t know how to feel about it. I shouldn’t hate it because it’s who I am, but I hate it because people always have some opinion about it, and no matter what I hear, it always pisses me off. I just… you’re beautiful, y/n. You’re the person in my life that I never want to see leave, and I know that it’s shallow to value people only for their beauty, but I’m not beautiful. Scars and burns are not beautiful, they’re ugly... My looks are decent at best, but that’s all that makes me desirable. Not you, though. You’re gorgeous, your personality and attitude never fail to make everyone feel better, and yet you’re here with me… why would you love someone like me?”

There it was.

His eyes kept to your feet as if he wasn’t worthy of staring you in the face. His hands continue to hold against you in a weak grasp, as if he pressed any harder against you, you would crumble to dust or say you hated him. 

Your hands grasped his wrists, pressing his hands even more against your skin. It was an intense action, so out of the blue that his eyes snapped up to meet yours finally. 

Shouto wasn’t sure what to expect when he looked at your face; he knew you were upset about the interview, and truthfully he wished he hadn’t warned Uraraka, Momo, and Sero to keep you down when those questions were asked — should they have been proposed. He also expected tears, you were always one to be more emotional than he was. 

What he didn’t expect were steely yet warm eyes.

“You’re an idiot, Todoroki Shouto,” you finally speak. You took a step closer to him, your heartbeat in your throat. This was a raw Shouto standing before you. A Shouto, you had no idea how he reacted, no matter how much you knew him. So, if this was a rebuilding scene, a moment to get him to see what you saw, you would take it. “You’re right, scars and burns are ugly. They shouldn’t be romanticized. It’s also not the same as others, who take scars as a sign of overcoming hardships and victory. Your scar is one of a kind… but like you’ve said, shallow traits aren’t enough…” Your chin trembled just the slightest bit, but you couldn’t let yourself cry. No, you had to be strong for him. “You’re the kindest person I know, which knowing the saint that is Midoriya and All Might, it means a lot. I don’t mean it because you’re my boyfriend, or because I want you to feel better, but you had every reason to not be kind in your life and look at you, you’re gentle, you’re sweet. You also speak your mind, no matter what. Your opinions are valuable, and that’s why you’re such a great leader. You were made to become a hero that surpassed All Might, and you did it without ever once going down the road your father had intended for you. You did that. But if we’re going to be looking at the shallow traits, we can do that.

Your scar is a sign of growth. It’s ugly, and it’s beautiful. It’s ugly because it makes you feel like you’re not good for me. It’s ugly because it was such a dark time for you when it came. It’s ugly because it’s an insecurity. But I also see beauty. It’s beautiful because it’s another place I can tenderly love at night. It’s beautiful because who you were back then is just a scar of who you were. It’s beautiful because it’s a source of your strength despite it all. You can think whatever you want of it, Shouto, think it’s good or bad, but because it’s apart of you I have to and I choose to love it. Why would I ever want you to change who you are if you’re comfortable with it? What kind of lover would I be if I decided to love everything but one part of you?” your fingers trailed to his scarred skin, the red skin forever warm under your touch. “Shallow or deep, I will never stop loving you.”

Tears fell from his eyes, and his lips crashed against yours.

The two of you sink to the floor in this wet and sweet embrace. Lips never tearing from each other, fingers wistfully holding on, a silent prayer to each other of your devotions, and hope to never leave each other’s sides. Your fingers continued to stroke against his scar, and he held you so close until you could no longer kiss.

So your wet and bruised lips pressed against his warm scar, gentle and soft reminders that you were there for him until his faint cries became steady breathing.

Todoroki Shouto may never get over the insecurity of his scar, but he’d be damned if he thought for a second whether it was there or not, you’d love him any more or any less. You loved him entirely, and for that, he was forever grateful.

[pl-panda]

To Marry a Vigilante: Part 5

MASTERLIST || First || Previous || Next

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By the time the class landed in Gotham, Marinette and Chloé had enough. Their recorders, which were supposed to serve as damning evidence of blatant bullying, got ‘damaged’ when Lila accidentally splashed the two girls with a drink. Whatever it was, it was sticky, didn’t wash with water, and also ruined their hidden dictaphones. 

Of course, the liar made it look like it was Marinette who tripped her. The class almost hounded her, but they kept their distance not wanting to also get their clothes dirtied. Of course, Lila was occupying the bathroom for the next fifteen minutes, so when she finally left the drink already dried, making it even harder to get rid of. 

When the girls made their way out of the plane to meet with Sabine and their teacher, Lila pushed past them and came crying about how rude Marinette ruined her outfit, which was supposedly incredibly expensive. None of the intelligent people bothered to try and point out that it was cheap mass-produced junk. Alix was visibly conflicted, but also did not speak up in the end. 

“Marinette. I expected better of…” The teacher started, but then she saw both girls were hit worse than Lila, who cleaned most of it in the bathroom. 

“Sweetie…” Sabine started to rethink if a simple murder wouldn’t solve their problem.

“Don’t worry Maman. I can probably salvage it once we ret… get to Damian’s” Mari corrected herself. Luckily, it seemed like nobody caught her slip of tongue. 

“Ugh! Not that creep.” Alya complained. “He gives me shivers.” 

Mari glared at her former friend. She wanted to say something, but her teacher urged them to move. They were put into a small lounge. Marinette, of course, had to run them through a safety course, for reasons. She still did her best, as Gotham earned its reputation as the World’s Capital of Crime. 

When they were finally cleared and the class left the airport, there was a bus waiting, ready to take them to the hotel. Marinette and Chloé were about to board when a limousine pulled next to them. 

“Angel, Bourgeoise…” He greeted the girls. “Since you’ll be staying with us, my father decided to send a proper escort.”

The class stared in disbelief. The guy with a sword was loaded? It definitely looked like it from the car. 

“I bet his gramps just works as a driver and borrowed his work car,” Lila whispered to Alya and suddenly everyone was repeating the lie. “Or maybe even stole it…” 

A blade was suddenly pressed into Lila’s neck, a hair width away from drawing blood

“Tt. I will tolerate many things, but if you try to insult Alfred one more time, your end will be painful.” The class backed away in fear. Marinette immediately went to try and drag the boy away from a very pale Lila, but he wouldn’t budge. “Am. I. Clear?”

Lila was too paralyzed to answer, so he pressed the blade further. Now it was in contact with her skin and a moment of inattention could have fatal consequences. “Am. I. Clear?” He seethed.

“Yes…” She managed to whisper. 

“Tt. Good.” He sheathed his blade just as two security guards came outside to check the commotion. 

“Arrest him! He tried to murder Lila!” Alya immediately screamed. 

“No. If I did, she would be dead. I only explained certain values.” Damian deadpanned. 

The two guards looked between the class and visibly angry Damian Wayne and scratched their heads. They could report it, but they only had the word of some foreigners against the word of the son of the First Citizen of Gotham who was also the fifth richest man in the world. The cameras here stopped working, hence they came out to check what happened. 

“Children. We should be going or we’ll miss lunch at the hotel,” their teacher urged. That was enough for the guards. If the chaperone did not press charges, they wouldn’t bother. 

“But… But…” 

“Lila. Be a bigger person here and apologize to Damian.” Sabine grinned. 

“But he…”

“I don’t want to hear it!” The woman cut her off. “You must show our host some respect.”

“I didn’t…” The glare Sabine sent her and the murderous expression on Damian’s face made the words freeze in her throat. “Fine. I’m sorry Damien.”

“Tt.” Was the boy’s only response. 

Marinette and Chloé were about to leave when Rose protested. “Why are they not going with us to the hotel!?”

“Because as one of the host families, I’m allowed to welcome the students I choose to my house for the stay.” Damian did not care enough to elaborate more. Instead, he just jumped into the back seat of the Limousine. The girls followed, with Chloé going as far as sticking her tongue at the class. 

Once the doors closed and Alfred started the engine, Damian lowered the windshield and leaned outside. “By the way, it’s Damian. Damian W…” He didn’t get to finish because Marinette covered his mouth with her hand and dragged him inside. The windshield closed. 

When the car entered the main road, the girl finally let him go. 

“What was that about, Habibti?” He glared at her. 

“You were about to reveal that you’re the Damian Wayne.” She accused him.

“Tt. It’s time that liar learns who she’s dealing with.”

“It would only blow up in our faces. She would make it worse for all of us, including your family.” Seeing that both her best friend and her husband (still hard to get used to) were looking at her with no small amount of curiosity, she elaborated. “Damian Wayne is supposedly her ‘ultimate price’ from this exchange. She will want to sink her claws into you with all her skill.”

“Tt. She can try.” He huffed. His hand instinctively went to his sword. 

“You do know you are quite murderous for a Robin?” Chloé quipped.

“And you’re bratty for a lady.” 

“Bird-brain.”

“That’s Drake. Spoiled princess.”

“Daddy can afford it so why not? Trained monkey.”

“Grayson. Try harder. Talentless heiress.”

“I’m helping Marinette start her own company. Emo McBroodyPants.”

“Where did you even get that one?”

“I read.” She huffed. “And looks like I won.”

“Tt. As if.”

Marinette just sat back and watched her best friend and lover bicker there and back. It was nice that they were warming up to one another…

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When Sabine finally arrived at the Manor, she was dead on her feet. Alfred was, of course, waiting for her at the entrance.

“Eventful day, Madame?”

“Don’t.” She cut him off.

“I assume it went worse than anticipated then?”

“Where is Tom?”

“Master Tom is in the kitchen. He decided to prepare some baked goods for the afternoon.”

Sabine stormed to the kitchen where she found her husband. He was clearly busy preparing the dough. After a quick greeting, she went to help him. 

“That bad?”

“Worse.” She sighed. “I really don’t understand that woman. How… She cut me whenever I tried to rein those monsters in.”

“Oh… Hand me the pin.” He interrupted himself. Sabine gave him the item, which she already had in hand when he started speaking. 

“I’m not sure if I can survive until school starts again. And even then there will be occasional afternoon trips. If it continues, I might just… I will get a jam. You did bring it?”

“I’ve put it on the counter,” Tom replied while still preparing the dough. “And don’t worry. I’m sure it’ll get better.”

“I hope so…”

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In the evening, Marinette, Chloé, and Sabine were introduced to the Batcave. It was indeed impressive, but Sabine was mostly interested in the training ring. She would lie if she didn’t want to test herself against the famous Batman. And she didn’t fancy committing crimes to do so. Well, for now. The class was making it more and more appealing.

“So you’re the girl that tamed Robin?” A redhead in a wheelchair rolled over to Marinette. 

“Tt. Shut up, Gordon.” Damian managed to spend a beautiful afternoon without any teasing from his family. Sadly, nothing could last forever.

“Come on baby bird. After the show you gave us on Christmas Eve, you can’t expect us to just drop it.” Dick was there, smiling cockily. 

“As much as I too want to tease that couple, I hoped for some sparring matches.” Sabine decided to save the teens. For now.

“Well, Madame, I’m happy to oblige.”

“Who’s with you?” She asked once Nightwing entered the ring.

“Um… I didn’t think you wanted a team match?” He replied, slightly confused. 

“No, no. I just thought I would have some challenge.” She smiled brightly. She was dressed in a dark-pink judoka and wooden sandals. 

“I… want.” Cass chimed in. She gracefully jumped into the ring before turning to Dick. “Alone.”

“Of course Sweetie. But I won’t go easy on you.” 

“Did not… expected.” 

The two women watched one another, neither moving from their spots. Both seemed relaxed but ready to react. Cass was first to start circling, with Sabine following. Neither could find any obvious flaws to exploit. Finally, Sabine lunged forward, only to jump to the side before getting in Cassandra’s range. The girl didn’t lose the bit and with a quick spin kicked her aunt, only to be deflected. Sabine tried to capitalize on the opening, but Cass followed her failed kick with another, launching herself in the air. Her target ducked low before trying to deliver an upper-cut punch toward the flying girl. It did connect, serving to push her back. She used the momentum to get some distance before landing on her hands and doing a double backward cartwheel and ending in a ready stance. 

“Not bad, Cassandra. I’m impressed. That boy would probably already be crying on the floor.” Sabine smiled genuinely. There was no need for banter between them. 

“Weakling.” The girl blew Dick a raspberry. 

Two women watched each other for a moment. This time, it was Sabine who initiated the actual fight. She delivered three quick punches that Cass blocked, but it created a small opening. She tried to deliver a side-kick to the girl’s head, but her opponent had the same idea. 

Their legs clashed by the shins. Sabine landed her leg firmly on the ground, but Cass once more lunged in the air, trying to use the momentum. She did two more kicks that her aunt blocked before she tried to put the older woman in a grip. Sabine, seeing the attempt, jumped back and tried to grab Cassandra’s hand, but instead, the girl spun around, delivering a powerful kick to Sabine’s side. 

The woman felt the kick, but she used the opportunity to timely grab her opponent’s foot and twist it. Cass, to avoid an injury, also had to spin in the air. She managed to attempt a kick before falling on her stomach. Her kick did force Sabine to let go of the foot to avoid having her head hurt. The girl quickly jumped on her feet, just in time to block an open-palm strike, which was followed with a kick. She did not get to respond, because Sabine made a low-sweep. Cass jumped in the air, only to find herself pushed away by another open-palm strike that, this time, connected with her chest, pushing the air out of her lungs. 

The woman followed Cass in the air, so she did not get a chance to stand up before getting pinned and rotated on her stomach. The grip that Sabine used effectively made it almost impossible to get out of before her aunt delivered a mock game-ending strike to her head. 

When Sabine stood up and helped her niece, both were panting heavily. It did not affect the accuracy with which the older of them made a back-kick, right below Jason’s belt. 

“Next time you try to sneak on either of us I will hit harder.” Sabine didn’t even bother to turn around and watch how the man curled on the floor, crying. “Good fight.” She focused her gaze on Cass, who blushed slightly.

“I lost.” 

“Well, depends on the criteria. You got the first hit, which is often decisive. And an achievement.” The woman cheered her with a broad smile on her face. Cassandra couldn’t help but also smile. “We could both use some more practice. I definitely would’ve taken you when I caught your foot and if you capitalized on the initial advantage you could’ve ended the fight.”

“It is an honor… training… with you.”

“Thank you, my dear. I also enjoyed it.” Sabine then turned to the gobsmacked group. The fight must have looked more impressive than she thought. 

“Did you just… defeat Cass in less than five minutes…?” Tim asked, unable to form a smooth sentence.

“Well, Sandra always said that I was the better one in unarmed combat. She does rock with swords though. And you should’ve seen her in that club in Tokyo. She’s definitely the dancer of the family, or rather was. I enjoy Cass’s ballet more.”

The great moment was interrupted by Batman speaking to everyone over the comms. 

“Suit up. We’ve got a hostage situation at Gotham Plaza.”

“For the love of Kwami… Please tell me it’s not my class.” Marinette groaned. 

“Tt. Of course it’s them.” Damian pulled his phone, showing her a live feed from the news helicopter. On the rooftop, there was a clearly visible group of teenagers, surrounded by goons with guns aimed at them. Near the edge stood a guy in a two-color suit. Half white and half black, with a red and black tie to complete the mad image. Half of his face was badly damaged and purple. 

“If Batman doesn’t show here to save his precious sidekick soon, we shall see if the little birdie can actually fly.”

Everyone who met Lila groaned. 

“I assume we can’t just let him deal with her?” Marinette asked hopefully.

“Sadly, Angel, it would be bad for our image.”

“I guess you’re right.”

“The two of you are sitting this out.” Batman walked into the cave, already in his suit. “We can’t risk any of them recognizing you two and it’s too early for Ladybug and Chat to appear. It would be too easy to associate their appearance with you two coming to Gotham.”

Seeing Damian’s irritated face, Marinette decided to intervene before she had a fight on her hands “Let’s do a movie night. I’m sure you have a theatre room somewhere in here.” 

Immediately, the boy brightened. “No Bourgeoise?”

“I think Chloé has other plans for the evening.” She nodded toward where the blonde was talking excitedly with Cass, trying to convince her to train her.

“Good.” Damian offered his hand and the two left the cave.

“Damn! I didn’t get the chance to tease him about the proposal.” Jason looked really dejected. 

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Masterlist // Next

[graham-cheshire]

Study & Theories for the Gromm

Hello once again dear readers. For those of you who haven’t heard of @starr-fall-knight-rise I suggest visiting them and reading their stories, as they are some of my favorite sci-fi stories and provide entertaining perspectives on humanity from the viewpoint of aliens as well as forming the basis of this post here.

I have been very pleased with how well my previous two posts were received and have considered continuing this little series. Today though I will be covering a species I did not anticipate doing when I first considered doing posts like these, called the Gromm.

My decision to cover this species came after starr-fall’s big reveal on April 23rd got me to finally create a Discord account and getting on their server, where I discovered a composed list of the alien species and their appearances. The Gromm is one species that is not on that list and in fact has little information on them despite playing an important role in an arc of starr-fall’s stories known as “The Burg War”

As usual I shall start by providing confirmed facts and information about the physical appearance of the Gromm by starr-fall’s stories and answered questions, then I shall list what information we can infer from other provided details, and wrap up with my own theories regarding what is the most plausible for their appearance.

As a note about the Gromm, most of the information given on them is that they are coated in slime and are described as being slug-like, so for reader with a weak stomach to such things I advise reading at your own risk.

Before starting there are the following disclaimers= First: I want to give thanks to starr-fall-knight-rise for allowing me to do this & for receiving my speculations positively, I in no way own the Gromm or make any claim to doing so & want to say that I am doing this simply because I love starr-fall’s stories & wish to contribute in some way to the fandom. Secondly: I am by no means a biologist & most of my research comes from the internet, if I am wrong in my information please do not bash me and simply provide clarification in the comments. Thirdly: I will use reference images to help describe my thinking and theories and I in no way own or take credit for these images. 

The Confirmed Appearance Details

In this area we have more to go on than we did with the Gnar’lack or the Finnari, but also not having much that lends to a full description with which to imagine their total appearance, but they provide great starting points.

“...considerable mucus tissue covering most of its body.”

“...eyes rolling against its chapped skin,”

“The creature had no real mouth to drink like a human,”

“the Gromm, who have mucus membranes covering their bodies,”

“a sort of gelatinous slime-covered species”

“slug-like creatures that require water to survive”

The Inferred Appearance Details

“...the shriveled corpse dried into a husk under the sun. “This thing looks like a F***ing mummy.” The captain mumbled...” = With this and a general knowledge of mummies I believe we can infer that the Gromm possess both skin and an internal structure of bones &/or organs that can support such skin when the body is desiccated, rather than being just a blob of slime.

“The average Gromm was about three times the size of that body,” = With this we can infer that a large amount of a Gromm’s body mass is made up of moisture, suggesting either that their exterior layer of slime is thick or that they have a bloated appearance.

“...no real mouth to drink like a human, so instead, they dumped the bucket of water over the creature’s deflated form. Immediately, it began to look better, perking up & swelling to a proper size.” = From this it can be inferred that they don’t possess mouths that are typical to humans and suggests that they absorb moisture and hydration through their skin. More will be discussed about that in the Theory section.

“It took a gasping breath” = With this we can infer that the Gromm at least possess some form of mouth through which they can breathe, due to the nature of the act of “gasping”.

“The average Gromm didn’t produce more than a quart of slime per day,”= More on this will be covered in the Theories section but this can be used to infer that the Gromm are likely larger than humans.

“The Gromm sat up...”=  With this we can infer that the Gromm possess bones to support movement and some form of waist or structure with which one half of their body in on the ground and the other half raised and held aloft.

“...settlements...”, “...buildings...”, “...city...” = With this we can infer that the Gromm possess appendages with which to operate tools and perform construction.

“as the Gromm citizens dived for cover.” = With this I think we can infer that the Gromm are not totally slug-like in the manner of movement, as “diving for cover” would suggest a need for speed that slugs and the like do not possess.

“...species that required a lot of water to maintain their homeostasis,”, “...creatures that require water to survive,”= With this I think we can infer that the Gromm might be amphibious in nature, or possessing qualities that would aid in marine-life or travelling in water.

Theorized Appearance Details

To start this section off let’s confirm that two main points on the Gromm is that they are slug-like and covered in slime, so a large part of my theories shall be draw from information on these.

To begin I’d assume that the complete body structure of the average Gromm would resemble that of an earth slug, see below:

And I think we should keep this comparison in mind and attempt to not stray far from it in the future theories as the Gromm would need to retain resemblance to slugs for the comparison to be made.

As general information on slugs, they are a type of animal called a gastropod, in the same area as snails. The majority of all named species of slug live in marine environments but people are more familiar with the type known as “land slugs”.

The majority of land slugs have two pairs of retractable “feelers”/tentacles on their head, with the upper pair being light-sensing and having eyespots on the ends, while the lower pair provide a sense of smell. With the Gromm I feel it’d make sense to keep these “eyestalks” as in the Confirmed section one was said to have had it’s “eyes rolling against its chapped skin”, which would be a weird phrasing for simply rolling eyes.

For the mouth we have inferred that it is not the standard mouth like with a human so I’m inclined to think that it is a mouth like that of a slug, which eats using a minutely toothed chitinous ribbon, called a radula, that is typically used for scraping or cutting food.

As a further point on mouths and as a jumping point to the next main point of the Gromm let’s cover the fact that they don’t seem to absorb hydration by drinking and instead through their skin. This is actually a trait used by frogs and salamanders, who have mucus coatings that keep them moist and help them with oxygen diffusion across their skin, same as worms. The layer of mucus on frogs helps them retain moisture in their skin, which they use to both breathe and stay hydrated, so a similar function could be used by the Gromm.

Now let us cover another big point on the Gromm, their slime. To start I’ll clarify something from the Inferred section, where I suggested that the Gromm are larger than humans. It’s stated that the average Gromm produces about a quart of slime per day. Now in vertebrae, like humans, mucus is a slippery liquid that is used as a biological lubricant with a major function of protecting against infection. The difference here being that human mucus is interior while a Gromm’s mucus is exterior, covering the entirety of their body, every inch. The reason I theorize that the Gromm are larger than humans is that humans produce around 1 liter of mucus a day. Now not only a 1 quart is slighter larger than 1 liter but humans produce mucus in several parts of our body. While most people might already know that mucus-secreting tissue can be found in the nose, mouth, throat, and lungs it can also in our eyes, ears, GI tract, and reproductive and urinary organs. If one were to take all that mucus and balloon it out to form a layer I think it would be larger than a human, if not the same size.

To further cover the mucus it would likely not be a thin or runny layer as the Gromm have also been described as gelatinous, which suggests that they have an overall jelly-like appearance or that the slime layer is thick. It’s also likely that the slime is clear, as that is what mucus normally is, with the immune system making it white or yellow, and bacteria making it green.

As we established this slime likely helps the Gromm in hydration and protection against infection, but with slugs their slime serves other functions such as aiding in movement, finding mates, and warding off predators. And with that I’ll cover what I think is most plausible for the Gromm’s form of locomotion. Given the facts we have I don’t believe that the Gromm would move in the same way as a normal slug, they would need to be faster and have a body capable of sitting up and sitting down. Since the structure thus far has been largely gelatinous and doesn’t suggest limbs with joints or bones I’d be inclined to go with a tentacle approach, possible with smaller tentacles working similarly to legs to push and pull them along, example provided below:

This picture also provides a good example of how a Gromm might sit up as we’ve given the impression that they do. 

Finally let’s discuss the limbs, particularly the appendages that they would use for manipulating tools. While it might be easy to assume that they’d have longer tentacles that doesn’t seem to be a theme among starr-fall’s other alien species, as most of them have hands, and so I’d stick with the hand structure but perhaps tentacle-like arms and fingers like so:

With that I do believe that we are done. I apologize for taking so long to post this collection of studies and theories, my work and life schedule have taken recent turns and upheavals, nothing major but things that did distract me. I hope this was all informative and that it was close to what starr-fall imagined. Hopefully I’ll have time to do another one of these soon for another of starr-fall’s less well-known species. If any readers have tips on where they think I could improve in my writing please comment they are always appreciated.

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Weird, “Autograph.”

Wrote this between sporadic bouts of studying because I have the attention span of a flea and the motivation of a blob fish. So This is for those of you asking about what happened after “Movie Star.” 

He watched his shuttle hit altitude and then vanish into a pristine blue sky. The roaring of the engines faded away until there was nothing but the distant thunder of jet engines, so much quieter in comparison to the wild screaming of the spacefaring craft headed on her way back to the Harbinger, and a crew that would be captained by his second in command. It hurt him to think that someone else would be captaining his ship, that she'd be in deep space without him.

He wondered if this is what it felt like for a parent to leave their child for the first time.

It all just made his heart ache, and he had the sudden desire to call and make sure she hadn’t spontaneously combusted as soon as he had entered that shuttle leaving her on the docking port moonside.

“Yep, she totally exploded, the entire crew is dead and their ashes will forever float through space.” He turned his head to glower at Conn floating at his back and staring up into the sky with a grin.

“Shut the hell up Conn.”

“Make me.”

“Do I need to remind you that the only thing between you and a snapped spine is a gravitational chastity belt.” he snarled 

Conn adjusted the gravity field harness around his narrow-protruding hips, “Speaking of chastity belts-”

He held up a hand, “NO-no I am stopping that line of conversation right there.”

A gentle hand rested on one of his shoulders, and he turned to find Sunny standing over him her head tilted slightly to one side. The expression she had on was almost comical for an alien without human facial structures, “They’ll be fine.” Then she slapped him on the back making him stagger forward, “Now stop frowning, You should be excited.”

He straightened himself out adjusting his jacket.

To his side, Krill sighed and looked up at the sky with an almost longing expression.

“What’s your problem?” Sunny wondered 

The Vrul sighed, “The amount of time I spend on a class A death planet is really making me question my sanity.”

“You’re only now beginning to question your sanity?” Adam wondered wryly as he looked around the tarmac. Aside from a couple of baggage carriers, and people in bright orange vests, there was no one here, and no way to tell where they were supposed to go.

“Ha ha, funny ...Where are we going?”

“Guess we sort of just head towards the terminal?” He glanced towards the taxiways between them and the terminal and shook his head. That didn’t seem likely, but also…. There was no one here, “Or not…. I would expect at least someone to be here.”

Sunny crossed her arms in annoyance, “Seems kind of rude they would ask you to come and then just…. Leave you.” 

His eyes scanned over the tarmac once more, baggage carts, buggies, distant buses, a fancy black car, but nothing close by. He adjusted his bag over his shoulder, “May as well walk to those people over there and ask them. I don’t want to get in the way of the planes.”

Adam, followed by his extraterrestrial entourage slowly began heading in that direction. A bus rolled by them going the opposite direction, and the black car from earlier turned onto the same road to roll past. Adam kept walking.

“Commander!..... Commander Vir.” 

The group of them spun in a tight circle turning to face the car, which turned out to be a limousine, the front window rolled down, and a man in a dark suit leaning out.

Adam looked around like there was someone else by that name standing behind him before pointing at himself, “I ur…. Me.”

The man parked the car and stepped out reaching over to open the car door, “Mr. Ellis apologizes that he couldn’t meet you in person, but he hopes that you will find his personal car satisfactory. Adam blinked like a deer in the headlights, “Er… uh… are you sure you’ve got the right person?” He eyed the car.

“You stupid or something?” Conn wondered floating towards the door and vanishing inside the car, much to the driver’s confusion and surprise. He stared after Conn with wide eyes before turning to look at Adam.

“Believe it or not he's actually pretty tame for his species.” The commander sighed stepping forward and thanking the man awkwardly as he slid inside.

He wasn’t entirely sure if satisfaction was the word he’d use to describe how he felt. Everything, and he meant everything was extravagant and eccentric to the extreme. Crystal glasses, with the appropriate liquor, adjustable colored lights, heated seats in a fabric he couldn’t even name, the absolute definition of leg-room so that even Sunny was comfortable. There was a TV just above the far end turned to the news, a snack bar, a sun roof. He folded his hands in his lap afraid to touch anything for fear of damaging it.

Sunny scooted to sit next to him while Conn and Krill took the other side. 

Conn leaned back in his seat, “Not bad.”

“You would say that.” Adam muttered leaning a little closer to Sunny hands pinned between his knees so as not to touch anything.

Sunny had no such qualms sprawling out like she owned the place head resting back onto a fluffy set of cushions just before the window, “Now this, I could get used to.”

Adam disagreed, there was no way that he would ever be able to get used to something like this. In fact, at this moment he was wondering what he was even doing here, hanging out in famous people’s fancy cars with private drivers. He wasn’t special enough for something like that. In fact, he was a soldier, that was it, and arguably not even a very good one. He was just some lucky son of a bitch who had alien friends and a spaceship somehow by coincidence.

He should have been happy, but felt himself wilt internally as he looked around the car at all the fancy things.

Conn watched him from across the car but said nothing.

Unfortunately for him, Sunny caught the tension glancing between him and Conn. 

The were rolling out of the LAX tarmac as she spoke, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Adam interjected over Conn, who continued to speak through Adam.

“Boo hoo, oh woe is me, I’m not special enough enough to be here, I am just an average guy who's not even actually good at anything wa ... was.”

Adam snarled at Conn, “get the hell out of my head Conn.”

“You can’t just leave your mind dangling open for all your thoughts to flop out.”

“Thanks for phrasing the analogy that way Conn, I appreciate it.” he leaned back in his seat arms now crossed, “And yeah, I feel a bit out of place. I should be back up with my men doing something useful but here I am being treated all special by people who barely even know me. If they really did they wouldn’t be half as interesting. If they knew how half the stuff I did was pure dumb luck, or how i spend most of the scared out of my mind. How I’m not some kind of badass.” Sunny hummed deep in her chest, “Yes, the story of the man whose dumb lluck led him to being the most important human in the galaxy is totally boring. Yawn, I am falling asleep already.”

“You don’t even yawn.”

“Why do you think I said yawn instead of actually yawning then?” 

He growled, “My point is, I just feel out of place.”

“Welcome to being a celebrity Adam. Having dumb luck that put you in a position for people to look up to you. You think these people got here because they are ACTUALLY special. No, they got here because their parents were famous, or because they got into good acting schools when they were kids, or because they knew a guy. All of these people got lucky, aren’t actually special, and there are plenty of people out there more talented than they are, but at this point they are so famous no one cares anymore.”

Adam sat in silence contemplating the thought, “II mean…. When you put it like that.”

“You know it's because I am always right.” Sunny said smugly.

He turned his head towards the window watching the city pass by below them. LA was the largest and one of the most ancient cities on the continent. Of course it spoke nothing of a city like Rome or London, but it was still pretty impressive. The entire place was so shiny and white mixed with delicate greenery all built on the bones of the slums. Not only was LA one of the oldest cities on the continent it was also one of the richest. The further they went the nicer the already nice buildings got reaching towards the sky all shiny and white.

Massive mansions dominated the distance with high gates and private shuttle pads. 

The sky above them was dominated by flying cars, private shuttles, and the occasional jet. One mansion they passed by was so big, it seemed  as if the front facade went on for almost a mile intertwined with many decorative fountains and trimmed hedges upkeep exclusively by robots.

They turned down another street heading into the city with expensive outlet malls and large flashy brand names that probably cost as much as the warp core used to power his ship. He was both parts intimidated and stunned leaning towards the window to stare at all the strange people that walked the sidewalks.

He turned his head following a very excessively dressed man in a tailored ball gown that took up most of the sidewalk.

Where he grew up in the suburbs, there had been people who dressed according to plenty of other time periods, but the trend had been early 2000s mostly thanks to his mother who performed the modest almost utilitarian style of their clothing plus they had never been rich enough to afford new fashion. Jeans were cheap, easy to make, a staple of the poor masses. Not that they had been poor poor per say, after the war his father worked as a farmhand for Megafarm producing millions of pounds of produce, while his mother had quit teaching to pursue business in talor-making period accurate clothing for those who were into that sort of thing. As a result, his family had been middle middle class.

But this…. This was for the 1%. A place he had never even dreamed of seeing.

He looked down at himself again, shabby jeans, black T-shirt and a hand me down leather jacket from his older brother David, which had seen better days.

He sunk down in his seat.

They took another corner and pulled up to the gate. He craned his neck to look out the window glancing up to the large sign hanging over the gate which read.

HOLLYWOOD STUDIOS.

Named for the ancient strip of land which produced many of the early movies when film was in its infancy. Once famous for the land and the people who lived there, it was now famous for being the highest grossing film studio EVER. A powerhouse of film that practically monopolized the world of action. While a lot of people demonized the studio for being a monopoly on film, Adam could see why.

They made some good shit.

The gate buzzed open and they were driven inside. He HAD to get a better look rolling open the skylight and standing to look out the top of the car. Hundreds of people dressed in costumes, carrying props, cameras, equipment. Mouth open like an idiot he stared through open warehouse doors and onto virtual projected sets on which actors stood in full costume, or in motion capture suits. Camera men walked around in massive exoskeletons controlling up to ten cameras at once.

A dog trotted past with a handler, a dog that Vir recognized from plenty of movies in which she had starred tail wagging tongue lolling. He dropped back inside the car with wide eyes staring at Sunny who was also looking out the window with wide eyes.

The car came to a stop towards the end of the strip, but then picked up again rolling into one of the giant warehouses and pulling to  a stop. The engine cut, and the doors opened. He stepped out thanking the Driver.

“Commander Vir! Just who I wanted to see!” He turned just in time to catch Director Ellis, or more like be blinded by him, as he skipped up wearing his strange sequin suit and cat-eye glasses. Instead of going for the handshake the man grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him, “It’s so exciting to finally have you here. You will be so excited to see what we have done. Just like you said, being as accurate as possible’ it's been a real challenge, but I assure you, you will be so proud. We have done so much research, and I have talked to experts everywhere” 

A mousy little woman scuttled after him holding two cups of coffee looking frazzled and exhausted as she tried to keep up with her boss.

Members of the crew looked up from where they were standing and a few exclamations of awe went up, and he couldn’t blame them, aliens were pretty cool. Despite Conn being a total asshole, he cut an impressive figure of billowing white ribbon and slow ethereal movement.

The man pulled back eyes widening at Conn, “You will be an absolute bitch to animate,”

“Match his personality.” Sunny quipped stepping out of the car.

She was greeted excessively by the director as well as Krill.

A sizable crowd had gathered, and Adam stepped back intending to allow his non-human friends the attention they deserved.

That’s not exactly what ended up happening. Stepping out of the circle he heard a shriek that made him nearly leap out of his skin. He turned to find a young woman with large glasses wearing a grey suit and pencil skirt. There was a pile of papers and a clipboard on the ground at her feet like she had dropped them.

Her eyes were wide as she stared at him mouth open.

“Er…… are you ok?” He ventured leaning down to pick up her papers.

When he stood back up she was still frozen her eyes wide. He offered her papers back.

That broke her from her frozen state but beginning with her hands which started to shake frantically in front of her. The shaking grew wider and wider, her expression grew more excited and she began to leap up and down squealing, “No way, no way…. No way no way no way.” That devolved  until she was simply squealing with excitement. 

Adam stepped back in shock and confusion, “It’s really you I can't believe it!”

She rushed forward arms out then paused, “Can I?” Her expression was so innocent and excited, her eyes so wide that he didn’t know how to respond.

“Er ...sure.”

She nearly broke his back wrapping her arms around him and squealing in delight again knocking her glasses askew. He grunted as the breath was crushed from his lungs. Despite being tiny she was surprisingly strong, and he felt his feet lightening upon the ground hands held out to the side still clutching her clipboard.

She stepped back after a moment with a big smile, her glasses canted at an awkward angle, “Can i get a picture with you.” She begged 

He glanced over his shoulder still not convinced that she hadn’t mistaken him for someone, “Um, Are you sure. I Maybe you have the wrong person.”

She shook her head vigorously giggling, “No, I’d know you anywhere. Commander Vir, the first man to meet sentient life, participated in the Drev war, commanding the first fleet of interstellar ships. You are my HERO.” She looked at him with eyes so wide, so innocent and starstruck that he hardly knew what to say.

He wondered if maybe he was dreaming.

“Picture?” She pleaded

“Um ... uh yeah, sure I guess.” She squealed again this time causing him to drop her clipboard as she grabbed him by the arm pulled him in and whipped out her phone snapping at least ten pictures of them before letting him go. “Mr. Vir it is such an honor.” She was saying, “I’ve read everything about you, all the declassified transmissions. Like that time you saved an alien race from extinction, or that time you ran a marathon on a A-1 death planet, or or like the three times you've saved entire planets.”

“Oh I…. really?”

She nodded, “Yes, Mr. Vir.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, “You can just call me Adam.”

He was nearly defined in the next moment as she shrieked again and hugged him.

“What’s your name?”

She put her hands over her mouth eyes wide, “S-samantha, but- but my friends call me Sammy…..You can call me Sammy.” He blinked in confused surprise and a bit of self consciousness feeling himself go a bit red.

 She may have been star struck, but he was sort of struck by her being star struck. This had to be some sort of dream, even more confusing when he realized the circle of people he assumed had been there for his alien companions had ll circled themselves around him. 

Men and women, stage crew, and actors in motion capture suits gathered around wide eyed and smiling.

He spun in a slight circle staring around at all the faces.

A man stepped from the crowd, a young guy in a motion capture suit. He held out a hand, “Commander, Ezra Hemming. I Well I guess I’m the stunt double for…. For your stunt double? Keith Jenning.” 

“So? You’ll be doing all the legwork?”

The young man blushed.” I guess you could say that.” 

Did he seriously seem nervous? It seemed so strange, and all these people were looking at him, approaching him, wanting to talk to him. It was insane, he shook so many hands learned so many names in such a short amount of time. At some point there was a hydraulic hiss, and the crowd around him parted.

A woman walked towards them elevated on a set of robotic stilt legs, wearing a motion capture suit, and an exoskeleton that gave her an extra set of arms. Vir felt his mouth drop open. Rita Ortiz… the penultimate action hero casting choice, and someone he had a boyish crush on for…. Well a couple of years now. 

In her exo suit, she was as tall as sunny, which he assumed was the point, “Commander.” She said politely.

“Ms. Ortiz…. Er…. Can I….. get your autograph.” He stammered out feeling stupid almost immediatly, but to his surprse she broke into a wide smile.

“I was about to ask you the same thing. Make it a deal and trade mine for yours.”

He choked with a rather sporadic laugh not believing her in the slightest.

Some of the crowd finally noticed his alien friends and Ms. Ortiz seemed especially interested in sunny, for obvious reasons. The two stepped up to each other examining the other with a critical eye.

Sunny seemed pleased.

Samantha lurked next to him, and he had a feeling she was trying to be discreet, but it wasn’t working. He was still wigging out about this hardly able to believe it. At some point, someone grabbed him and dragged him towards the director's chair where Ellis was was talking to some of the writers.

He turned in his chair, “Adam…. May I call you Adam, Good, the writers and I were just going over the script, and well we have run into a few snags. You gave us a pretty detailed explanation on some of the things that happened, but this part right here, the part where you lose your leg….. It's very vague.”

Adam shuffled his feet awkwardly glancing over to where Sunny was showing the actress how to more properly move like a Drev. A few of the VFX people were there as well examining her armor, its color and debating how best to reproduce that in post. 

“Well I….. It was taken off during the Drev war.”

“I mean, yeah we got that, and not to push but…. Unless you want us to cut that part out.”

He glanced again towards Sunny.

“I…. its hard to talk about.”

A hand on his shoulder, “I understand, I quite understand….”

He mulled it over for a minute while the writers were talking heart hammering in his chest. He had never told Sunny…. Never really explained about his post traumatic stress related to that incident. Never really mentioned how long it took him to trust her, and he never would. 

He'd never fess up to the nightmares.

Because he didn’t want them to matter anymore.

“I can’t explain it to you but…. I can show you.” The group of them turned almost surprised, and he was honestly surprised at himself too. What he was about to do…. It was a bigger deal than any of them might assume.

“Sunny!” he turned, and the bright blue alien trotted over humming happily the way that Drev did. She seemed so happy, nothing like the creature in his dreams, his friend, his best friend.

“Yes?”

“I…. Well I need to show them how I lost my leg, hard to explain, so I thought we might show them.”

He watched Sunny carefully, and was probably the only one who noticed the slight wilt in her shoulders. The guilt flashing in her gold eyes…. Of course the thing in his dreams would never have felt that way, “Oh ... are you sure.”

He cleared his throat waving it off, “Of course, here.” he stepped forward motioning around the room, “I remember the rocks being sort of like this. There was a shallow sort of bowl like a pocket and some rocks here. There were actually a Tesraki and a rundi soldier right there, and I was over here.”

The crew, following his words began moving around the greenscreen landscape creating the sort of space that he was talking about.

“Now I had one of those older models M-23s pieces of shit, and a knife.” He reached out for the prop weapon offered to him, “And the drev had a spear.” He glanced towards Sunny, who was looking very, very uncomfortable, but someone handed her the prop spear. She looked down at it and swivel it in her hand like the thing was an extension of her body.

She didn’t seem particularly satisfied but didn’t say anything. He moved up onto the fake terrain, and she did the same looking over at him with concern. It was almost as if she knew that even though he had never bothered to tell her. 

He came up one side of the set while she came up the other; she had the spear held out ready, and he had the gun up. Of course, he dropped it on it’s sling when it supposedly overheated, 

He remembered this like it had been yesterday, how the rock had felt under his feet, the panic he had felt for the two defenseless soldiers she was stalking. He remembered panicking when the gun malfunctioned, he remembered how he wasn’t thinking straight. He remembered making the decision that cost him his leg.

He didn’t bother trying to go easy on her, catching her around the neck and raising his hand with the collapsable knife.

The world began to spin, and before his eyes he saw the ash and fire.

He heard the gunfire felt his body moving as it once had. Saw the dark shadow, heard the screaming and felt the hot air over his body. He remembered the knife biting into her skin. He remembered being thrown to the ground.

Set lights flashed around him as he slammed into the floor, padded but still painful as he rolled to the side. Sunny’s foot came down right next to his head as he rolled to the side cutting at her heels.

The creature reached down to grab him, but he rolled to his feet cutting at the hand.

He remembered the sweat trickling down his body from the great heat of the volcanoes. He remembered how the ash had coated the stone making things strangely slippery. He remembered the poorly equipped gear and the oversized shoes.

He remembered slipping backwards landing hard on his back as the spear cut downwards.

He remembered bone cracking and flesh splitting in half.

He braced for pain but none came. The fire died, the ash vanished, and he found himself on the ground hands over his face, a spear tip lightly grazing the outer carapace of his prosthetic leg. Sunny stood over him spear held in one of her lower arms. Though her posture was ready for a fight, her eyes….. So much more expressive than that of the creature he remembered from his vision, looked at him in worry and something that looked like pain.

He lay on the ground looking up at her, at her mercy, just like he had been on that day.

And he knew she wouldn’t hurt him.

She withdrew the spear and stepped back offering one hand to him. 

He didn’t hesitate to take it, and she hauled him to his feet.

Together, they turned to look at the spectators who were looking on in awe,and shock.

Quietly sunny began, “Our orders were to remove their limbs…. In our culture Disability IS death. We thought that simply removing their limbs would stop them…. We were wrong.”

Adam tried to keep his voice light, “I don't remember much, but I crawled about ….50 feet down that hill before someone managed to find me and stabilize me. The leg was completely gone, no hope of reattaching something that’s just gone.”

“That was….. Intense.” Ellis finally cut in, “We should have had some cameras rolling dammit. Can we recreate that!” He began ordering his men around, and for a moment, the two of them were forgotten in the crowd. He stood there quietly noticing on the instant as two pairs of arms wrapped themselves around him. Enveloping him in an armored hug that almost completely encased him…. Safe.

A voice at his ear.

“Don’t EVER make me do that again.”

He placed a hand over hers, “Never, I promise.” 

[l0chn3ss]

l0chn3ss update

I feel like the last time I ever really active on tumblr was in the year 2016, so i want to address my absence between 2017-2020. Part of it is because I feel like I owe it to my friends and mutuals who I just basically left on read and another part is because I’ve always treated this blog as a personal blog that documents my life and my growth. I put off writing this for a long time but now that I have a huge paper due, now is definitely the time.

You are welcome to skip but I will address a few hard hitting questions I feel should be answered, especially since I feel like I departed like an anti-hero of a bad tv show.

Where I am currently: I am in grad school to obtain a master’s in library and information science. I have a full time job at different middle school libraries, though I work from home now. I also tutor kids on the side to pay for my tuition because I basically make minimum wage. Quarantine messed with my head at first, but now I’m feeling much better and I’m trying to reconnect with friends and close a lot of loose ends.

TLDR: I took an extended break because tumblr mobile sucks and my laptop needed serious repairs. I made a huge migration away from social media in 2018. I prioritized my education and in-person connections, which fell to shit because of my fandom involvement in the past. I did not like the direction of the main fandom I participated in and knew that many of the people I once respected did not respect me in return/ Us versus them mentality. I recognized that I treated my life on tumblr too seriously and took petty drama personally. I am sporadically on tumblr now because I genuinely enjoy the social connection and because I still like running fandom events.

Yes, you can reblog this. I’d love for this narrative to be heard.

Long version: To preface this, this post is being written to give myself closure and because I really am procrastinating on my final big paper of this semester. I’ll be tackling on the points in the tldr in a longer narrative that will appear to be in an expository fashion, which I recognize will be a source of contention, but my intentions are to throw it onto the table so that I can be freed. I can let it go and move on. I’m no longer a 20 years old who cared too much of what other people think and will think; I think differing perspectives are important and I want to give myself a chance to say my piece. That and I recognize that I lost the audience that I once had, so I doubt this will be an issue at all. It’s been 4 or what ever years, let’s just not.

Back in 2015-2016 there was a huge back and forth between three groups of people in the SE fandom. The reason why I’m not listing out the name is because I don’t want this to show up in the tags. I’d say that the three groups could be seen as quite literally the soma shippers (mostly white, demi sexual girls), lgbt centric bloggers (very kid or star oriented, very fed up with soma), and the people who were deemed as alright to soma shippers (c r ona, ste inm arie, jac k im centric people). There was a constant (and understandable) tension between the first two groups while the third was like the weird cousin that everyone in the social circles liked because they sprinkled in soma for the masses. Don’t argue with me on this-- this was literally how the fandom was in 2015 and you know it.

The main issue was that one group felt that they were being inclusive towards identities and sexualities while the other felt that they were not. I remember that one of the arguments was that soma WAS an LGBT ship because people headcanonned the members to be demisexual. However, the other side of the argument was that it wasn’t good representation of a gay pairing. Now that we can look back at this 5 years later, I have two things to say: 1, I now very much understand why the argument broke out because of how heated the topic is, and I do believe that I lean more towards the “other side” now that I’m not wearing rose tinted glasses, but 2, I need to make it clear that demi people are lgbt, but a headcanon is not fact and ship diversity was the main question at hand, not the ship itself. This argument lasted for weeks, destroyed my friendships, and no matter what I felt I did in the moment (which was to mend the fandom), it was taken as an insult.

(Side note: Somethings that I remember was being in someone’s DM’s to encourage them to participate in the large fandom events more, but once they twisted my intentions and rallied their friends, I became their enemy. I also became the mods’ enemy but then again, when was I not? I was made fun of for saying “queergender,” a term that is now currently being widely used, quite openly by someone I wanted desperately to be friends with. I was outwardly mocked by popular users who only apologized behind closed doors but didn’t bother to clear things up with their followers. Adults who were in their 30s quite literally attacked a 19 year old. It was in that moment that I realized I would never become friends with either side, and not because I didn’t want to.)

I bring this up because as I begun to stop writing soma fics, I also begun to see and understand why people moved away from it. It wasn’t the ship itself, it was the culture surrounding it. However, on tumblr we have the ability to connect intensely with the content we produce. Therefore, the ship itself began to be connected with the shippers and their attitudes towards outside pairings-- that attitude being tied into elitism.

I say this with every ounce of love I can because I once had the exact same mannerism. When you become so tied into one pairing to the point where other ships appear to threaten the existence of it and you react negatively towards it, you become rancid. The popular tag “everything is soma” takes a very dark turn. Even if readers consume another pairing’s work, they will be obliged to say “I ship soma more BUT that was cute.” They will read an entirely different topic and wonder why soma wasn’t inserted into it in the background. They will reject pairings that separate the two as if breaking them up is sin and an insult.

The only reason why I stopped writing my soma fics in 2016 was because I saw a real need to fill in the gaps of other pairings. I took what people were saying to heart and I wanted to change my ways and my perceptions. I saw the animosity of the ship culture and rejected it. I wanted to use what little influence I had to make the fandom just a bit more accepting. In 2016, I don’t think the fandom was ready for it. In 2017, they still weren’t ready for it. In 2020, I see hope, but I wonder sometimes if it’s masqueraded pity because of previous treatment.

In the middle of it all, I went from being the soma angst master to becoming the weird person everyone once knew. I was the friend that people excluded from group chats and I just “wasn’t the same.” Cliques grew extremely large in power in 2017 and exclusion hurt like a bitch.

The straw that broke the camel’s back and completely shut me down was in 2017 when I was graduating as a bachelor. There was a fandom event that I decided to go all in to. For context, there used to be a huge debate on how many times a person should enter in an event, but in my mind, the more exposure the better. My graduation and the event took place at the exact same time, which was cool, but what hurt me was what happened after.

I was lucky enough to be accepted into field school (when you travel to do outdoor excavating) for my major. I’m an anthropologist-- it was an honor. I didn’t plan in advance for it, and if anything, I thought that I would be committed completely to the events and my 5 or what ever entries at the time. I’ve always prided myself in communicating with others, so I made sure to let my partners in the event know what was going on. I was so excited to be going on my first ever excavation and no one at the time said anything otherwise, in fact, they all seemed incredibly supportive. 

What I didn’t know was that I would be called out by name in the event feedback response by one person who felt that I didn’t take the event seriously enough and that I should’ve prioritized my time accordingly. Two of the mods let me know because it referred to me directly, though the name of the submitter was not included. It was not only a slap in the face, but a dumbfound moment that reminded me that wow, fandom content really is someone’s life out there. My enforced silence because of lack of internet in the woods actually upset someone and made them believe that I wronged them, because I put my real life ambitions first before a fandom event.

It was then when I woke up and I remember very clearly thinking to myself: I don’t want to be like them. I don’t want to treat my fandom life seriously. I want to participate in fandom for fun, not out of duty. I don’t want to prioritize this life because in the end, if I am hated for putting my work and education first, then I don’t want it.

(For context, I suspect that it was the same person who made a 200 note call out on me during the fandom tension. I respected this person immensely, but I also treated them like the flawed person I believe everyone is. I’m sure because of this, I’m pretty much trash in their eyes, which is totally fine. They have really cute cats so they can’t be all too bad. Don’t look into it too deeply.)

Once my month long field school was up, I was already used to not being on the internet or any of my social media accounts. I didn’t play my mobile games for a month. I didn’t read the news for a month. It was like going cold turkey on the internet, which reshaped my habits entirely. The only time that I had online within that time span was during the weekend, but I spent my time working on my projects and catching up with friends instead of being on apps.

I was also completely fed up with tumblr’s mobile app at the time, so one by one, I deleted my apps. Good bye to tumblr, snapchat, what little I used of instagram, twitter, everything. The only thing I kept was facebook, which was because it is the main platform that I use to message my boyfriend. That meant that any friends I retained from the fandom (who I still contact now) were also friends who had the chance to add me on facebook.

This was the cause of my 2 or 3 year hiatus on tumblr, and therefore the fandom. I occasionally checked back every 6 months to do a few fandom events, but I have several unopened messages and notifications that I haven’t been able to get to. I open my instagram for a few days once a year, and I only go onto twitter if my friends tell me (through facebook) that they dm’d me a post there.

When I left my online persona behind, I quickly strengthened my in person connections. New drama that erupted every other day became replaced with starbucks and boba runs. Reality TV shows replaced fanfiction. Text messages replaced the tumblr activity feed (which still doesn’t work on mobile BTW). I study at cafes unironically with friends instead of typing alone in my room. Overall, it opened my world considerably.

I still like making fun of myself and I try not to take myself seriously. I still make self depreciative memes to send to friends but then double up with kermit heart pics. I’m still a plot bunny, I still write my fics, I still watch my anime, I still play video games, I still sleep at 4am, I still take my depression medication, I still love potatoes, I still use my voice for people who can’t find theirs yet. But I think I’m in a much healthier mindset now, even if I still make stupid shifty posts calling out bad behavior.

Nowadays, I’m working on my Master’s degree in secret. My parents don’t know about it because my mom doesn’t like that I want to go out and do unladylike things like getting an education. I tutor kiddos and I’m really good with younger children, but I’m not going to do anything with kids because I just don’t want to. Instead, I want to work at an archive or a museum to bring my library interests and my anthropology background together. If I had my dream job, I would be a marine archaeologist; however I love my boyfriend of 8 years whom you probably all remember and I really came to terms with my grandeur dreams. I’m extremely happy with living in a small town with loved ones now, and I don’t need to move somewhere far away from my parents to be content. It’s a huge realization.

From 2018 to 2020 I got into actual drama in person while I was job hunting. Adult people suck and honestly it’s kind of embarrassing how ill equipped some people are. Even so, I currently work in middle schools as a media assistant. One of those realms is the library, and honestly it’s like fulfilling a prophecy. As much as I love the social aspect, public schools are an absolute train wreck.

I’m going to wrap this up now. This post is meant to help me close the past and move forward because the fandom culture feels different now. Things from several years ago don’t need to resurface. I want to enjoy my life fully, and fandom life is one of those aspects that I truly did enjoy. I’m going to keep using my voice and act like a fool, but I’m also not going to be losing sleep because of this. People are going to talk about you no matter what, whether positively or negatively, and it’s important to not take it personally.

Idk, go enjoy yourselves. Do things for yourself. It’s more fun that way.

[sa-gt-tarrius]

Done Deal [Secret Santa gift]

Warnings (the most prominent ones are in bold): Mild language, lots of crying, panic attacks, self-deprecating thoughts, mentions of malnutrition, unsympathetic Deceit, angst for weeks

A deal is a deal, that much is true. But snakes aren’t known for their integrity. Virgil should have figured that out months ago. Meanwhile, cryptozoology and rebuking the laws of mathematics disrupt Logan’s daily routine.

Excuse me while I post this before noon lol. I figured I’d give my secret sander some time to read their gift while I’m at work today.

@secret-sanders-sized — Thank you so much for organizing this secret santa! It can’t have been easy to coordinate such a big event, especially so close to the holidays. I applaud your hard work and tenacity, but I REALLY hope you get some rest once it’s all over.

@killerfangirl3 — I had a blast working on this and I’m proud of the result. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! (I’m so sorry about the block of text. I was aiming for 6k words max, but I got... carried away. Oof.)

~~~

Part 1:

Patton Sanders was one of the few people you could find awake during the witching hour. It was common to find him binging old cartoons or sifting through photographs through the dead of night while the rest of the world slept. And every morning, without fail, Patton would wake up one hour later than his roommate. He'd either dash about to get ready for the day, cry for a few minutes, or just give up and sleep until noon.

Logan never understood how Patton could, as they say, burn the candle at both ends. He'd tried discussing the possibilities of health problems stemming from erratic sleeping, only to be met with disheartened shrugs of agreement. Patton didn't seem to care, so Logan just let him be. As long as he was on time for work, there was nothing else Logan could do for him.

On the flipside, Logan’s sleep schedule was curated to a science. He was in bed at ten, asleep at ten-fifteen, and awake no later than seven the next morning. If Logan happened to fall asleep just minutes later than usual, he would be too tired to wake up in the morning, thus disrupting his entire day. Going to bed at the same time every night was not only ideal, but it was also necessary for his health and his sanity. Logan couldn't function without routine.

That’s why Patton was surprised when Logan stumbled down the stairs into the kitchen at 2:53 AM. Patton didn't even hear him at first; he was too busy checking the cookies in the oven to notice his roommate was nearby. At that moment, Logan resembled a nerdy cryptid, wandering the halls like a phantom. His eyes were baggy and bloodshot, and his face was drooping from exhaustion. Patton had to wonder if Logan slept at all.

“Logan?” Patton piped, eyeing the other man carefully. Logan hummed in reply, tiredly fiddling with the coffeemaker. Patton tried to grab his attention again, louder this time. “Kiddo... you’re up late.”

“Mmm, yes, yes,” Logan mumbled. He chuckled to himself, twirling a mug around in his hands. “I need coffee.”

Patton stared at his roommate, bewildered by his lacklustre response. He found it odd to be the coherent one of the two for once. Usually, it was Logan who struggled to deal with a delirious Patton. It was jarring to have the roles reversed. “Logan,” he said once again, “what are you doing at this hour?”

Logan turned away from the coffee machine, his weary eyes straining to focus on Patton. Was it because it was dark, or because he was just that exhausted? Perhaps it was because he had forgotten to put on his glasses. It took Patton a moment to remember that Logan never forgets his glasses.

“...It’s been a very long week,” Logan finally sighed, turning his attention to the sugar and cream. The machine beeped softly, and Logan got to work pouring a hearty glass of caffeine for himself. “Sorry for interrupting. I’ll be out of your way in a moment."

Patton blinked twice, taken aback. “What? No, no, no!” he exclaimed, raising his voice a bit. “I—I didn't mean it like that! I'm just worried about you. Are you alright? Did you have a nightmare?" 

A groan erupted from Logan's throat at Patton’s sudden outcry. His hands shot up to his temple, trying to ease his pounding headache. "I'm fine," he assured him. "I lost track of time is all."

"Oh." Patton frowned, then smiled again to cover it up. "Well, if you're up, why not come sit with me? The cookies are almost finished."

"Cookies," Logan deadpanned incredulously, "at three in the morning?"

"Don’t be a flour-puss, Logan," Patton replied with a cheeky grin. He turned to the oven, fishing out an oven mitt from a nearby drawer. "Go sit at the table. I'll be right there."

Logan simply nodded. He pulled out a chair and plopped down, swirling his coffee around mindlessly. Maybe it was because it was late and his brain was barely functional, but Logan's thoughts wouldn't stop racing. He was sure that if he were fully awake, he could handle this situation with ease. He'd tell Patton that everything was fine and that he was just stressing over an upcoming exam. But, for some godforsaken reason, Logan was considering telling Patton what he was really doing up at this hour. But would Patton understand? Would he even believe him?

Logan didn't even notice when Patton took a seat across from him. He only jolted out of his trance once a plate of cookies clattered onto the table, producing a quiet clunk that scared Logan more than he'd be willing to admit. Patton muttered an apology as he adjusted himself to get comfortable. Logan couldn't even meet his gaze.

“So,” Patton began, shifting uncomfortably. Logan wasn’t exactly looking forward to this conversation either. “...Up and about at three? You’re turning into me, kiddo. What’s going on?”

“It’s nothing,” Logan huffed, his tone a bit harsher than he would have liked. He immediately regretted opening his big fat mouth upon seeing Patton’s hurt expression. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. I mean… it’s just been… busy. I’ve been distracted by my research project." 

"Research project?" Patton tilted his head. "You mean for your class?"

"No." As soon as the damning word left his mouth, Logan quietly cursed under his breath. "I mean... y—yes. For my class." Patton looked unconvinced. "Look, it's nothing important. I have nothing aside from school tomorrow. I'll be able to sleep in for a while. I’ll be fine.”

"Kiddo..."

"It's nothing, Pat."

Patton's expression softened. He reached out and grabbed Logan’s hand, squeezing it gently. "Logan, please. I’m worried about you. You know you can talk to me about anything, right? We’re friends. I’m here for you.”

Logan managed a smile. “I know you are, Pat. It’s just… Well... I’m not sure you’d believe me.” When Patton didn’t reply right away, Logan continued. “I’m not quite sure I believe it myself. Maybe I’m just delusional.”

“Delusional,” Patton repeated, holding back an ironic laugh. “Logan, you’re the most logical person I know. If you believe something, you probably have good reason to. Besides…” Patton glanced at their interlocked hands. “...you always do this. Keep things to yourself, I mean. It’s not healthy.”

Logan opened his mouth to retort, but no words came, so he nodded along.

“So please… tell me what’s going on with you. I’m worried.”

“Well, I…” Logan paused, tensing up. He glanced around the room, then tightened his grip on Patton’s hand. “Perhaps it would be better to show you instead.” He stood up, tugging Patton upstairs to his room. Patton didn’t argue. He simply followed and hoped that Logan would be okay.

Part 2:

Maybe Virgil was an idiot for borrowing tonight. At least one of the two humans was usually awake at this ungodly hour. But Virgil didn’t need much this time around—a paper clip from Logan’s room was all he had to grab. A paper clip would be perfect for making a climbing hook. Virgil misplaced his old hook somewhere, so he had to make a new one.

Deceit was out exploring somewhere, perhaps scouting a different floor, so Virgil had to go borrowing alone this time. That sucked, mainly because Virgil hated borrowing with every fibre of his being. It was dangerous, physically taxing, and took way too long. But it had to be done, so Virgil decided to just get it over with so he could go to his room and sleep. Once the coast was clear, Virgil silently slipped into Logan’s room.

Logan was the better human to borrow from, in Virgil’s humble opinion. Logan was predictable, almost to a creepy extent, making his belongings easy pickings. Besides, Patton’s room had bugs in it from being too filthy. Logan’s room was cramped and cluttered to be sure, but at least it was clean and somewhat organized. As long as Virgil was careful and left everything as he found it, borrowing from Logan’s room was fairly straightforward.

But this time around, something was different. Virgil couldn’t put his finger on it, but the room wasn’t the same tonight. It was… quiet. Almost too quiet. Wait, was Logan even in here? Virgil peered upwards to the bed, straining his eyes for a snoring mass beneath the blankets. Nope, Logan was nowhere to be found. That was odd, but Virgil would not waste this opportunity. He scrambled under the bed to orient himself before making the climb up the desk.

“Weird,” Virgil muttered under his breath. Logan was practically a robot. He did the same thing at the same time every day without fail. To see him breaking that routine was rare. Virgil crouched down on the carpet, leaning on a small paper box next to him. That’s when it struck Virgil—that box wasn’t any old box!

By some strange stroke of luck, Virgil stumbled upon the box of paper clips beneath the bed, which meant Virgil didn’t even have to step into the open. What a lucky break! Virgil didn’t think to question how they’d gotten under the bed frame. Instead, he frantically started stashing paper clips into his sack, being careful not to poke himself with the metal tips. Virgil technically only needed one paper clip, but they were versatile enough for most home repairs or impromptu tools, so Virgil thought it best to take at least five.

However, just as he was closing the paper clip box behind him, the bedroom door opened.

Part 3:

Patton didn't know what to expect when he entered Logan's room. The room was usually clean, if not disorganized from all the stray notebooks. However, Patton quickly realized that the whole room was a complete mess tonight. There were pencils and papers were scattered across the surface, and Logan’s laptop had over 30 tabs open, including multiple math and physics articles, an anatomy lecture on youtube, and a webpage detailing various mythological creatures.

Logan stopped by the desk, facing Patton with the most intense and pleading expression he had ever seen. "Promise me you won't think I'm crazy,” Logan said firmly. “Promise me.”

“I promise,” Patton said without thinking. In reality, he was quickly becoming worried. What could have Logan riled up this much?

Logan took a deep breath, full-screening one of the physics articles on his browser. “Are you familiar with the square-cube law?” Patton shook his head. “Right... In layman’s terms, as an object’s surface area increases, its volume increases much more than you’d intially believe. An object that is twice its original size will NOT be twice as dense as the original—rather, the volume increases by a factor of eight. The same principle applies to things decreasing in size. Do you follow so far?”

“Yes,” Patton said, despite not understanding a word Logan was saying.

“I’m getting to the point, I swear...” Logan pulled up a biology seminar, pointing at various graphs on the screen. He was getting excited now, pacing about the room as he spoke. “Many people have wondered what would happen if a human being were to become extremely small. The short answer is... no one could survive for long at that size. A miniature human being would encounter a multitude of problems that the species isn’t designed to handle… a shortage of body heat, bad eyesight, and the obvious problem of being too small to process oxygen—”

“Sorry, kiddo,” Patton blurted, looking rather dazed and confused, “but could you just, um… get to the point?”

Logan coughed, looking a bit embarrassed. “Well, the point is… erm... Heh heh, the idea of tiny people is ludicrous, correct? According to everything we know about biology and physics, it shouldn’t even be possible for a human being that small to exist.” He shuffled awkwardly, suddenly at a loss for words. “So… I suppose… it’s, erm… Well, it’s a ridiculous concept, anyway. But I can’t help but wonder if…”

As Logan stumbled his way through the sentence, Patton’s eyes lit up a bit. “Do you think… maybe it is possible after all?”

“Well, it shouldn’t be,” Logan huffed, “but it’s the only explanation I can think of. You see, I… I’ve been tracking some strange occurrences lately. Food has been vanishing from the cupboards. There are tiny hidden doorways in the walls by the floorboards. There’s three in the kitchen and two in the living room. It’s so peculiar.”

“Couldn’t it just be mice? Or some other rodent?”

“That’s what I thought, too. But then I found something…” Logan opened the desk drawer and pulled something out. He carefully placed it in Patton’s hands. It was a piece of twine, beaten up and fraying. One end was tied into a sturdy loop, and the other was attached to a hook made of a fishing hook. Patton bent down and stared at it, unsure of what he was looking at. “I found it in the cupboard with the ramen,” Logan explained. “No mouse is capable of constructing tools like this.”

“That’s true,” Patton muttered, stroking his chin. “But still… tiny people? Are you sure?”

Logan looked away, biting his lip. “Well… there’s one more thing I need to show you.” He clicked the mouse twice, opening a folder of videos. The timestamp on the most recent one clocked in at a whopping 61 hours. “I set up video cameras in here a few days ago. And I think I caught one on film.”

Patton gasped sharply. “What? Really?!”

“Yes… Here. Look at this.”

The pair kept their eyes glued to the screen as a video began to play. It was a fuzzy recording of Logan’s room from above the door. Patton shot a glance to that part of the room; sure enough, a security camera hung there, a pale red light flashing faintly from its side.

At first, it seemed like the footage was frozen. But then, in the corner of the frame, something moved. Patton couldn’t quite discern what it was. The shadowy figure scuttled across the floor and onto the desk, rummaging through Logan’s belongings.

“There.” Logan paused the video, pointing to the figure excitedly. He zoomed in, growing more excited as the faint silhouette of a person came into view. “There it is.” The footage was dark and blurry, but Patton saw it. The shape of a person, no more than five inches tall, hunched over on Logan’s computer desk. Logan tore his attention away from the screen to fix his gaze on Patton. “Normally, I’d acknowledge that this is a stupid hypothesis and I’m just sleep-deprived. But…” He paused, staring at the tiny figure on the video feed. “...I think I may be onto something.”

“I don’t think it’s stupid,” Patton said quietly. He slowly twirled the hook around in his fingers, enamoured by the impossibly miniature handiwork.“I mean… it’s weird, for sure. But the evidence is right there.”

“Indeed. I just have to make sure I’m right.” Logan hunched over the computer, closing a few of the tabs. “All of this evidence is for naught if I can’t prove anything. I have to know for sure. So I’ve been setting up traps that would be able to capture something more intelligent. I’m also considering checking out the holes in the kitchen more closely, although I’m afraid of scaring it away…”

“So this is your research project,” Patton said as the pieces clicked into place in his mind. “This is why you’ve been up late.”

“Yes, I believe that these creatures are likely nocturnal. But I haven't had much luck with finding traces of them.”

Patton grinned, leaning over Logan’s shoulder and closing the laptop. “Well, maybe I can help with that. Two heads are better than one, after all.”

“That... That would be satisfactory,” Logan said with a small smile. He should have known better than to doubt Patton.

Part 4:

Now, as far as they knew, Logan and Patton would continue to speak in total privacy. They discussed Logan’s findings and hypotheses about why tiny people are living in the walls. They argued about the possible origins of such a species, and what kind of bait to use to catch it, and whether glue traps were considered humane. What they didn’t know was that someone was listening to their conversation from beneath the bed.

Virgil’s mind was racing and his heart was beating so fast that he was sure it’d pop out of his chest. Damn it all! He was so careful, so calculated with his borrowing, never leaving a trace of his presence. But despite his valiant efforts, Logan realized that he was in the apartment. And they even had recordings of him! It was only a matter of time before they were captured. If only he hadn’t let them find his damned grappling hook...

Virgil didn't enjoy entertaining the thought of being caught by humans—it caused him too much distress. But the imminent discovery of borrowers in the apartment seemed fast approaching. Would they kill him? Keep him as some pet? Experiment on him? Toss him outside to freeze in the winter cold? Virgil wasn’t keen on finding out, which meant only one thing: they would have to move. Quickly.

Virgil had only moved once in the past, to move out of his parent’s home when he came of age. He was ill-equipped to move on such short notice on his own. But that was one solace Virgil had: he didn’t live alone anymore.

About a year ago, he’d met another borrower who was looking for shelter from the first snowfall of the season. He called himself Deceit, which was an apt name, considering he was the living embodiment of sliminess. He was the best borrower Virgil ever met; Virgil had to wonder how he became so adept.

Virgil quickly learned that Deceit didn’t talk about himself. All Virgil knew about Deceit is that he’d been alone for almost all of his life. The mysterious borrower never talked about the scars covering half his face, or the slight limp on his left side. He never talked about his family, or his past, or his tendency to hide away in his room for hours.

Thinking back, Deceit probably wouldn’t have given Virgil a second thought at first; the strange borrower seemed perfectly content on his own. But when Virgil pleaded for Deceit to stay with him after the winter passed—Virgil must have been lonely if he was willing to trust a stranger that much—they eventually agreed on living together.

It was a contractual friendship, so to speak. Deceit would usually borrow for the both of them, being the sneakier of the pair. In exchange, Virgil provided Deceit with a place to stay. Additionally, Virgil was a skilled builder and mechanic, able to construct all sorts of tools from scraps that Deceit found under the fridge and behind the couch. His home was fully insulated, wired with working lights, and outfitted with furniture. So not only could Deceit stay hidden with Virgil, but he was also warm, safe, and comfortable.

The two quickly adjusted to the balance. They’d been living together for about a year with little issue. Both of the humans in the apartment were unassuming, and Deceit never gave them any reason to believe things were amiss. But now... their delicate way of life was being threatened. Everything that they worked for was about to be for naught.

Shaking his head, Virgil retreated into the wall. He'd have to tell Deceit the bad news so they could start packing right away.

As he made his way through the walls, Virgil’s fear of being caught gave way to spite and anger. This would put a whole three years of borrowing to waste. Now what? Where would they even go now that they couldn't stay in the apartment? The snow was falling like bullets this late in the year, so they didn't even have the option of fleeing into the woods nearby. They'd have to pray and hope that there was a building close enough to move to.

At least he had Deceit with him. Having someone to keep him sane will be all too necessary now.

​”Hey, Dee?” Virgil called out, slipping into the main room. He immediately went toward his room, intending to fetch his gear. “Dee, we need to talk. It's important.”

When no one replied for a minute, Virgil entered his room to grab his stuff. It couldn’t hurt to get a head start with packing. Virgil ran through his mental checklist of supplies as he stepped into his room. He would need food for a few days, his collection of homemade jackets (he’d need all of them if he wanted to stay warm), and his borrowing gear. New hook, bag, blade… What else should he need? It’d been too long since he moved Virgil took a quick look around to get ideas on what to bring.

He paused, did a double-take, and stumbled back in shock.

His room was completely empty. There were no clothes in the closet, no bag of tools by the door, and none of Virgil’s journals on the shelf. The blankets from his makeshift bed were stolen away. Even the emergency rations he hid behind a loose board were missing. Virgil stood still and gaped horror for a good few minutes. What happened here?

Virgil quickly paced around the room, inspecting the empty room more closely. Somebody stripped the place of everything but the heavy furniture, like the side table and the dresser. Everything else was just… gone. Well... there was one other thing. A small folded note with Virgil’s name on it. Virgil hesitated before tentatively opening the note, dreading the contents.

virgil, the humans know about us. i just finished packing. meet me in the pantry right away.

Virgil read and re-read the letter a few times, relief washing over him. On a hunch, Virgil went into Deceit’s room too. It was empty too. Presumably, Deceit had already packed everything. Okay, Deceit knew too. And he’d already packed their things. That’s good. That’s good. Breathe, Virgil.

This was… good. As soon as they’d stocked up on food, they could leave. Leave it to Deceit to be two steps ahead of things. Virgil was at ease knowing that such a competent borrower would join him on the journey to a new home. However, as Virgil made his way towards the pantry, he still couldn't help but worry about what the future held. Virgil lived in this apartment building for most of his adult life. He wasn’t keen on leaving it all behind. And he still wasn’t sure where they could go. Maybe they could just move down the block? Would that be far away enough to throw the humans off their scent?

“Dee?” Virgil whispered, finally arriving at the pantry. He emerged from the hidden tunnel, carefully slipping into the open. Deceit was there, but hadn’t noticed Virgil yet; he was busy cutting into the tops of boxes and fishing food out of them. The other borrower was struggling to reach the cereal below him. “Dee, I’m here.”

Deceit perked up, whirling his head around. “Good. I need help with stocking.” He gestured for Virgil to climb onto the cereal box with him. “I can’t reach. Can you climb in and pass me what’s inside?”

“Sure.” Virgil made his way up the shelves, careful not to let his foot get caught between the thin metal bars that made up the shelves. When he reached the cereal box, he carefully lowered himself next to Deceit, peering inside. “How much do you need?”

Deceit squinted his eyes, scanning the contents of the box. “Just a few pieces should be enough. This'll be the last of it. I’ve already packed granola and some trail mix.” Virgil nodded, handing Deceit his bag and lowering himself into the box. He sunk a bit into the cereal at first but stayed close to the top of the box with a bit of effort. “Throw up what you can,” Deceit said. “Try to get bigger pieces.”

“Okay.” Virgil got to work tossing various bits of cereal up and out of the box. Deceit caught them and shoved them into his shoulder bag, filling it to the brim. After a few minutes, his bag couldn’t hold anything more. “Is that enough?”

“Yes, that’s perfect.” Deceit grinned widely, glancing around the pantry. Nope, no sign of the humans. “And with hours to spare.”

Virgil huffed, sinking even lower into the cereal. “That’s great. Can you help me out now? I’m sinking.”

Deceit blinked, staring at Virgil from above. “Oh, are you now? Isn’t that a shame?” He grinned even wider, adjusting the straps of his bag. “You’re a good person, Virgil. It’s a shame you’re so naïve.”

Virgil froze up. “What?”

Maybe it was Virgil’s imagination, but Deceit’s face seemed to darken in reply to Virgil’s stuttering. “I enjoyed our time together, Virgil. Maybe you’ll get out of there before you suffocate.” He laughed jollity. “Or before you… you know… get caught.”

“You tricked me!” Virgil hollered, momentarily forgetting that he should keep quiet while humans were in the house. “You’re stealing my stuff, you little—”

“Excellent observation, Virgil. You’re so clever.”

“I thought we were a team,” Virgil hissed as he struggled against the cereal, feeling his chest sink below the surface. Tears began to prick at his eyes. “We were in this together! We had a deal!”

“The deal is off,” Deceit hummed, vanishing from sight. His footsteps sounded from outside the box. Virgil could barely make his muffled voice out. “If you hadn’t left your hook lying around, I wouldn’t have to do this. When the cards are down, it’s every borrower for himself.” He paused, his voice growing quiet. “For your sake, I hope you escape soon. The humans will be here in a few hours.”

Virgil’s breath quickened. A panicking sensation began to well up in his stomach. “Where will you go?” He cringed at the way his voice cracked. “You’ll freeze out there. It's too cold.”

“Mmm, I don’t know about that. With all these jackets of yours, I should be warm enough.”

“You bastard!” Virgil screamed angrily, quickly becoming more and more desperate to get out. Was Deceit going to leave him here? After all they’d been through together? “Let me out right now, or I swear—”

“Or what? You’ll call me even more vulgarities? Why, I’m shaking in my boots.” Deceit let out a hearty chuckle. “I’d love to stay and quiver more, but I really must get going. Good luck, Virgil,” Deceit whispered coyly, “and thank you for everything.”

“Don’t you dare leave me here!” Virgil squawked, not wanting to believe the sound of Deceit’s footsteps pattering away. “Dee?! D—Deceit! Wait! Don’t leave me!” Virgil wasn’t exactly listening more than he was simply panicking, but he knew at that moment Deceit was gone for good. Where he went, he’d never know. Virgil was alone now, with nothing to his name, and with humans hot on his trail. He was trapped and afraid and all alone. He stopped shouting, and instead relegated himself to emitting quiet sobs.

Was this it, then? Was he stuck here forever? Or would the humans find him when the sun came up? Virgil didn’t want to find out. He grunted and cursed to himself as he writhed in place, but he only sunk ever deeper beneath the quicksand of sugary wheat crisp. Only his head and arms were above the surface now, and he wasn’t keen on having his entire body buried in sugar and wheat puffs.

Virgil grit his teeth, remembering the breathing exercises his parents taught him. Four in, seven hold, eight out. But more than ten minutes went by and Virgil couldn’t calm down enough to hold his breath for more than two seconds. His constant struggling and weeping were pulling his neck and shoulders underneath.

You have to calm down. Virgil shook his head, clearing his messy and diluted mind. Keep it together, Virge. You can’t give up just yet. He would stay alive—he had to. There was no way he was about to go down in such an undignified manner. Virgil steadied his breathing, keeping his entire body as still as possible. Then, ambling with care, he wiggled his feet around, trying to find his footing. If he could just get a foothold on something, then maybe he could hoist himself up and escape. But try as he might, Virgil’s feet helplessly sifted through the cereal like it was water. He couldn’t get to the top of the box.

Virgil’s next instinct was to writhe around and tilt the box onto its side, but the borrower was discombobulated from panicking—he did not know which way he was facing. If he knocked the box over the wrong way, the fall to the distant ground would seal his fate. And even if he survived the fall, he’d be too injured to escape before the humans found him.

That left only one option, which was to wait and bide his time. Perhaps the humans would walk into the pantry without checking his hiding place. If he could just listen for the direction of the pantry door, he’d know which direction to tilt the box without toppling off the shelf. It wasn’t ideal, but it seemed to be the only way out of this mess. So Virgil took a deep breath, willed his body to stay perfectly still, and waited.

Part 5:

Patton didn’t quite believe in the existence of tiny people in the walls. As Logan said, it was a bit outlandish. Still, something strange was going on. Logan showed him the hidden doorways scattered across the apartment; they were so well hidden that Patton didn’t see them at first, even after having Logan point them out. Patton also examined the hook a bit more while Logan scoured his security camera footage. It was well-crafted, with secure knots and loops holding the hook in place. It seemed too small for a person to make, but too complex and intelligent for a rodent to make. So even though Patton was still in doubt, he had to admit that Logan had a point.

That being said, their “research” wasn’t making any progress. Aside from what Logan already found, the two humans couldn’t find any further evidence of tiny humanoids in the apartment. And soon, it was time for Logan to go to bed. He'd have to be ready for class in the morning.  

“I don’t work today,” Patton said as he fished out two bowls from the drawer. “So we can look more when you come back.”

“Of course,” Logan replied. He was busy with the coffee machine again, discarding the filter he used earlier. “I’ll check the library on campus to see if there are any resources that might help us.”

Patton nodded. “And I’ll keep looking online.” He wandered into the pantry, reaching for the nearest box of cereal. “What should I do if anything comes up?”

Logan hummed, thinking for a moment. “Maybe just… call me. My ringer will be off when I’m in class, but I check it regularly.” He glanced over at Patton, who had finished pouring his cereal and was shoving his head into the fridge. Logan blinked thrice. “I didn’t know that brand of cereal came with a toy.”

“They don’t,” Patton replied as he dug out the milk from the fridge.

“Then what is that?”

Patton looked over at Logan. The other man was staring intently at the table, eyes widened and eyebrows raised. Patton followed his gaze to the aforementioned cereal bowl; a strange purple object was protruding from beneath the cereal. Cocking his head, Patton twisted the cereal box in his hands, searching the labels for any sign of a toy inside. He found nothing.

“That’s weird,” Patton muttered, turning his attention back to the bowl, only to screech in horror. That purple thing just moved. On its own. Logan jumped, nearly dropping his mug on the floor. Patton backpedalled across the room, his back pressed tightly against the fridge. “Wh—what is it?! It’s moving!”

“I’ve got it,” Logan grunted as he reached for a nearby dishcloth. He approached the bowl slowly, spreading the cloth out with his hands. Then, with careful precision, the dishcloth was neatly placed atop the squirming thing, effectively trapping it inside. “Patton… pass me the dish gloves.”

It took Patton a second to respond. He quickly grabbed the gloves from inside the sink and placed them on the table near Logan. “Thanks,” he said, focusing on putting the gloves on one at a time as to not take his hands off the cloth. “Now… stand back. I’m taking the cloth off now.”

Patton nodded, keeping his distance as Logan slowly peeled the cloth away. Both of them let out startled, disbelieving gasps.

“...I think we found it, Logan.”

Virgil didn’t want to believe any of this. He expected to wake up any second, back at home. He’d get up for breakfast and Deceit would chastise him for sleeping in. They’d eat granola and Virgil would ramble on about this strange dream he had where he was trapped in a cereal box for hours on end. But as the two human tenants loomed above him, staring him down and locking him into place, he realized that he wouldn’t be waking up. This was real. This was real.

“It’s…” Patton stuttered, taking a step forward. “It’s… a tiny person.”

Logan nodded slowly. His wide eyes remained glued on Virgil. “I was right... I can’t believe I was right!” He suddenly grinned, grabbing Patton’s shoulder. “Do you know what this means?! This is a massive discovery—it could revolutionize the field of biology!”

“I—I’m sure it could,” Patton chuckled humourlessly, still staring downwards. The tiny person half-wrapped himself in the dishcloth, cowering against the table. It appeared to be a young man, likely in his mid-twenties. He wore a baggy violet patchwork jacket and a black scarf that hung loosely from his neck. “Can it… talk?”

Logan turned back to Virgil. “I’m not sure. Theoretically, it’s vocal cords should be too small to produce audible sound… but at this point, it might as well be possible. Its very existence is unlikely.”

“Okay, then… um…” Patton broke away from Logan, who started furiously writing notes on a nearby napkin. “H—hi,” Patton began, smiling awkwardly. “Can you understand me?” When the tiny person didn’t reply, Patton kept talking. Maybe he was just shy. “I’m sorry about that… I didn’t know you were in there.”

Virgil quivered at the giant face taking up most of his vision. He had to look away—he was too intimidated to look into those massive eyes. “I—I don’t...” Virgil started to whimper out a sentence before shutting himself up with a quiet grunt. Don’t be stupid! You can’t talk to humans—you know the rules. Idiot.

But it was too late. Patton’s eyebrows shot up at Virgil’s halfhearted reply. “You can talk!” He smiled widely, his face lighting up. “Okay, that makes this easier.”

“Fascinating,” Logan muttered, studying Virgil carefully. “This can’t be real… You shouldn’t be able to speak with vocal cords your size.” He set the note-scribbled napkin aside, leaning over Patton’s shoulder to see Virgil better. “Where did you come from? Are you human? Are there more of you?”

“I’d... I’d go easy with the questions, Logan,” Patton whispered. “I think he’s getting overwhelmed.”

Well, Patton wasn’t exactly wrong. Virgil was totally and thoroughly petrified. He tried to rise to his feet, but he was shaking so badly that he couldn't even kneel without falling onto his stomach. His breathing was uneven and sharp, like he was struggling for air. Virgil let out a strained sob, becoming increasingly frustrated with his inability to run away.

Logan’s mouth sealed shut. He recognized the signs of a panic attack before Patton did. “Patton, get him some water.” Lowering himself as to not seem intimidating, Logan quieted his voice to a whisper. He held his hands in front of himself as a gesture of goodwill. “Hey… it’s alright. It’s alright.”

The tiny person heaved again, his whole body convulsing rapidly. “Y—you—you—“

“Shh… I won’t touch you. But you need to breathe. Do you know any breathing exercises?”

“F—f—f…” Sneaking a glance up at Logan, Virgil gulped and looked away again. “F—four, seven, eight.”

“That’ll work. Come on, I’ll do it with you. Breathe. Four in…”

As the tiny man and Logan breathed in sync, Patton got to work fetching some water. A normal cup would surely be too big, and they didn’t have any shot glasses for the tiny man to use. Sighing, Patton relegated to removing the gap from the jug of milk and using it to hold the water. He rinsed it out and filled it generously, hoping it would be small enough.

When he turned back to the two, the tiny man had calmed down somewhat. He was still shaking, but he was at least breathing steadily. Logan kept counting in a pattern, praising the tiny person the whole time.

“There we go. Good job.” Logan smiled softly. The tiny man forced a grimace in reply.

“Here,” Patton mumbled, placing the cap near the small person. He saddened at the way Virgil’s whole upper body flinched. “It’s water. Drink what you can, okay, kiddo?”

Virgil took a second to nod. “O—okay.”

Drinking water had never seemed like such a momentous task before. The cap was too heavy to lift, especially with how weak Virgil was, so he had to scoop up the water and sip it from his cupped hands. It was demeaning, but it wasn’t the biggest problem—the whole time Virgil drank, Patton and Logan kept their huge eyes locked on Virgil, never for a second looking away. It wasn’t just awkward; it was terrifying. They were so huge, much bigger than they seemed from a distance.

A cough sounded, then someone spoke. “Logan.” At the sudden voice, Virgil stopped drinking and craned his neck up. “My name is Logan. This is my friend Patton.”

Patton crouched down a bit, resting his chin on the table uncomfortably close to Virgil. “What’s your name, kiddo?”

“Uh,” Virgil stammered, fiddling with his sleeves, “m—my name...”

Logan’s eyes widened. He had to force his voice to stay level and quiet as to not scare him into silence. “Yeah?”

“...M—my… my name is… Virgil.”

Patton and Logan exchanged a glance. “Virgil,” they repeated, making sure they pronounced it right.

“Well, Virgil,” Patton whispered, “it’s nice to meet you. Would you like something to eat?”

“Uh…” Virgil hesitated, rubbing at his forearm. Patton’s question was rather sudden, wasn’t it? He wiped away a few dried-up tear streaks before answering. “Wh—what kind of food?”

“Whatever you’d like, kiddo.” He picked up the nearby box and shook its contents. “How does cereal sound?”

Virgil cringed at the suggestion—he wasn’t keen on cereal after being nearly suffocated by it—but nodded as to not anger Patton.

Cereal it was, then. Patton began the arduous search for the smallest bowl he could find. Logan looked like he wanted to say something, but kept silent. Instead, he glanced between Patton and Virgil, keeping his hand locked against his own mouth.

Virgil watched Patton with a cautious gaze as the human trickled a few drops of milk atop the wheat crisps. Once Patton finished and slid the bowl towards the silent Virgil, Logan pulled him aside. “Pat, can I talk to you?”

Patton snuck a look at Virgil, who was mindlessly chewing on a damp piece of cereal, then nodded. They slipped into the nearby bathroom, not noticing the baffled expression on Virgil’s face. Did they just… leave him here by himself? They did realize he could escape, right? Humans couldn’t possibly be this stupid, could they?

Virgil seized the moment of isolation to get a better grasp of his surroundings. He was sitting squarely at the centre of the kitchen table. Aside from the cloth he was seated on, there was nothing else on the table with him. The chairs were also pushed in, meaning that Virgil could probably climb down them with little trouble. There was an escape tunnel behind the fridge, if Virgil remembered correctly. If he acted quickly, he could make it there before the humans came back.

Having decided on his next move, Virgil rose to stand, only to find his legs were still gelatinous and wobbly. He remained standing for exactly two seconds before crashing onto his side. His throat bubbled out a pained yelp, and he clutched the shoulder he landed on. Okay, maybe the humans weren’t stupid for leaving Virgil alone. Maybe they were just sadistic.

Virgil paused as another thought crossed his mind: even if he escaped from Logan and Patton, what would he do next? He had no food, no clothes, no tools, and he was all alone again. There was no way he’d survive for long, even if he got the chance to escape. Everything was pretty much hopeless at this point.

“Stop crying,” Virgil growled to himself. But he didn’t stop. The tears just kept coming, welling up in his eyes and careening downwards like a waterfall. Virgil curled into a ball and cursed himself over and over, helpless as the tears rolled silently down his face. “You’re so stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid.”

Wasn’t he absolutely, positively pathetic?

Part 6:

Virgil’s inner torment went unheard by the humans. Once the bathroom door closed, ensuring their privacy, Patton spoke first. “You noticed it too, right?”

“Yes,” Logan grumbled. “He’s too thin. And he’s very pale... I think he’s malnourished.”

“We have to do something, Logan. Can you help him?”

“I can try.” Logan grit his teeth, massaging his face for what must have been the fourth time that night. “He needs food and water. And warmer clothes. Do we have anything he can wear?”

“Maybe there are some old doll clothes in Roman’s room,” Patton said thoughtfully. “I’ll have to look around. You watch him while I check.”

Logan bit his lip nervously. “An examination could be in order… but I’d hate to scare him.”

“We don’t have a choice,” Patton replied sadly. He opened the door a crack and peered outside at Virgil, who was curled in on himself and mumbling incoherently. He grimaced at the disheartening sight and turned away. “Just be gentle. And don’t talk too loud.”

Logan nodded firmly. “Of course.”

It was decided, then. Patton opened the door and rushed upstairs while Logan quietly approached the table. Virgil’s face was puffy and stained with tear streaks, and he was still shaking like a leaf. The tiny man eyed Logan wearily, never taking his eyes off him for a moment.

“I need to perform a medical examination on you,” Logan explained. He sat down in the nearest chair, pulling himself closer to the table. Virgil’s eyes went wide as a giant hand approached him, spreading its fingers as it reached towards his quivering form.

“N—no!” Virgil cried, clutching his jacket closer to his chest. His breathing quickened once again as the panicking sensation resurfaced. “I—I—I’m not—“

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Logan whispered, his hand still drawing closer. “I just need to make sure you’re uninjured.”

Virgil let out a strained and angry whine. “Don’t touch me!” he hollered, fists clenched. Logan frowned at the fearful reaction but didn’t retract his hand. Instead, with as much grace and gentleness as he could muster, he latched his index finger and thumb firmly around Virgil’s torso. The tiny man yelped as the hand hoisted him off solid ground, dangling above the tabletop for a moment before he was finally plopped into Logan’s other hand.

As soon as it set him in Logan’s palm, Virgil dropped to his hands and knees and scrambled back in the table's direction. Logan gasped and yanked him back by the hood of his jacket, holding him firmly in his palm. “Be careful!” Logan snapped. He moved his thumb over Virgil’s chest, pinning him down. With his free hand, he began manipulating Virgil’s writhing and trembling form, investigating each limb with care while gripping them too tightly for Virgil to escape. He twisted the borrower’s arms around, lifted his legs, and flipped his body between his front and back.

Logan did his best to search the minuscule body for signs of injury or illness, but it was hard to ignore the sobs coming from the trembling man in his hands. Virgil stopped fighting against the massive fingers once he’d run out of breath, which wasn’t saying much; he barely had any breath left in him. Logan continued to twist him around, prod him, and fiddle with his clothes. He paused his work every few moments to write something down on his napkin.

This went on for several minutes. During that time, Virgil got ahold of himself, although he was still terrified. “This won’t take much longer,” Logan finally muttered, breaking the thick and tense silence. “So… how long have you been living here?”

Virgil flinched as a giant finger lifted the back of his shirt up. Geez, that was cold! “U—um… I—I’m not.”

The shirt fell back into place. Virgil hugged himself closely as Logan wrote something down. “That hook I found belongs to you, doesn’t it? And those hidden doorways in the kitchen… you must have created those.”

Oh... right. Virgil forgot that Logan knew about him before being found in the pantry. He meekly nodded, hoping that telling the truth would leave him better off than lying would.

“I don’t understand how anyone could survive at your size. Do you get cold easily? Can you see well?”

“Uh… yes to both?”

“Fascinating. And what about your diet? How much do you have to eat to sustain yourself?”

Virgil let out an exasperated noise. “I don’t know! Twice a day usually gets me by, I guess?!”

“What sorts of things do you eat? Do you have allergies?”

“Can you stop with the questions?” Virgil cried, already becoming frustrated with Logan. Being interrogated was not fun, let alone when a human was doing it. "I can't tell you anything! I shouldn't even be here!"

"Why not?"

"It's..." Virgil grimaced. "...It's the rules. That's all I can say."

“But there’s so much I have to know. How long have you been small for?”

“I don't know, how long have you been annoying for?” Virgil retorted cheekily.

“Were you hit by a shrink ray? Like in those fiction movies? I was sure that they were scientifically impossible to create, but perhaps it's not too farfetched.”

Virgil let out a sharp hiss instead of answering the question. Logan reeled back, his expression unreadable. “I’m sorry… Did you just hiss at me?”

“I do that when I reach my limit with stupid questions.”

With a single eyebrow raised, Logan continued. “I just have a few more.”

“I don’t care.”

“How tall are you?"

"Not tall enough."

"Okay... Well, what about reproduction? Do you have—"

"Ew. No, hard pass."

Logan frowned. This wasn't going anywhere, was it? "Fine. Are you a social creature? Do you live alone?”

Wrong thing to say.

“Would you just shut up?!” Virgil screamed, pounding his fists on Logan’s hand as hard as he could. “Just shut up already!” Before he realized it, hot tears began rolling down his cheeks again. “Just... stop…”

The newfound silence felt like molasses. Logan’s mouth seemed to glue itself shut, but his eyes darted between Virgil and his notes. The human had plenty to ask, to be sure, but for some reason refused to say anything more.

Virgil’s anger gave way to numbness. He’d really done it this time, huh? Most borrowers weren’t dumb enough to lose their temper at a human being. And now he was crying again.

The silence carried on for what felt like hours, but it was eventually broken by Logan. “I’m sorry.”

“...What?”

“I’m sorry,” Logan sighed, having the decency to avoid eye contact. “I didn’t mean to overwhelm you.”

Well, this was interesting. A human apologizing to a borrower? Has this ever happened before? “Um…” Virgil cleared his throat and rubbed his arm. “It’s… whatever.”

“I hope you can forgive me for being so interrogative. Satisfying my curiosity should not have come at the cost of your mental stability.” Logan muttered something under his breath. He then turned to Virgil, his eyebrows furrowed. “I’ll stop with the questions now.”

Virgil was in awe. He’d screamed at Logan, called him annoying, and started crying like a child, but Logan wasn’t angry. He was actually very nice, despite his initial misgivings. Well, now Virgil simply had to answer the questions then, didn’t he? After the human was polite and said sorry and stuff. “I…” Virgil coughed, forcing the words out of his mouth. “I used to live with someone. But not anymore.”

“Oh.” Logan frowned, lifting Virgil closer to his face. The human’s features were tinged with a sort of concern; Logan slowly began to understand why the question set Virgil off. So he paused, choosing his words wisely. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Virgil opened his mouth to say ‘no’ but found himself forced into silence. Honestly? He wasn’t sure how to answer that. On one hand, Virgil didn’t even want to think about how his only friend abandoned him in a cereal box, leaving him in the clutches of a pair of humans. But on the other hand, Virgil wanted nothing more than to just blabber on and on about how he was feeling. Borrowers didn’t have therapists, and Deceit was never a terribly good listener. It’d be all to easy to overshare, to reveal all the borrower secrets in his moment of weakness. But... maybe if he was careful... he could talk without giving away specifics. A vent would do him good, anyhow.

Virgil decided to take the plunge.

“I trusted him,” he grumbled before he could think to stop himself. “We were supposed to work together. I helped him when he had nowhere to go. And what does he do to thank me?! He traps me in a cereal box and steals everything I own!” Virgil pounded his fists, growing more and more heated by the second. “I mean, I get it. We weren’t exactly friends. But we had a deal, and he… he just…”

Virgil’s words screeched to a halt, and he found himself unable to look at Logan without his gaze flickering back to the ground. The anger had died down, leaving the chill of fear and the hollowness of sorrow behind.

“I thought… I thought we were in this together. But he took everything from me. I have no food, no clothes, and… and I’m alone again.” Virgil snorted, crossing his arms. “I never should have trusted him. I was better off by myself.”

Logan said nothing at first, neither his hand nor his face moving an inch. Virgil slipped his hood over his face, hiding his embarrassed expression. Great, now he thinks you’re a crybaby too. Some borrower you are.

They remained stagnant in awkward silence for a few more minutes. But then, gradually, the hand holding Virgil began to shift around. A thumb started stroking his side with surprising gentleness, and the remaining fingers curled inwards towards Virgil, forming a protective barrier.

“I should say this upfront,” Logan said suddenly, startling Virgil out of his confusion. “I’m not good at comforting people. That’s Patton’s forte. That being said, I’m… very sorry that happened to you.” He pressed his lips together, and his eyes narrowed. “I can’t imagine someone violating your trust like that.”

Virgil laughed mirthlessly. “Yeah, he’s a filthy snake. I hate him.”

“Indeed.” Logan fell silent. “...You said he took your food and belongings?”

“...Yeah?”

“I see." A beat passed before Logan continued. “Well, if you happen to be in a position where you are unable to live comfortably, might I suggest staying here for a while? With Patton and I?”

Virgil’s breath hitched. “Stay with you?”

“You don’t have to,” Logan added quickly to cover his flustered demeanour. “I simply thought… if you have nothing to your name, we could help you resupply. And if you wish for company, we could provide that too. I’d hate for you to be alone and so ill-prepared for the winter.”

Virgil tried with all his might to wrap his head around what was happening. A human, the one thing he’d been told to avoid for his whole life, just offered him a place to stay. This had to be a trick, right? There was no way this was real.

“...So what’s the catch?”

A chuckle sounded. The human stroked his chin in mock-thought. “I do have a few caveats, I suppose. You’d have to join us for movie nights, as well as accept all Christmas presents given to you.” Logan snapped his fingers. “Oh! You’d also have to help bake cookies. Patton would appreciate the help.”

Virgil scoffed. “This is a scam.”

“I assure you, it is not.”

“So what do you get out of it?” Virgil craned his neck upwards, staring at the underside of Logan’s chin. “What’s in this for you?”

Logan thought for a moment, staring into space. “Nothing much,” he settled on saying. “The company of a fascinating human being would be sufficient.” Logan tightened his embrace on Virgil, holding him firmly against his chest. “You stay here, and in exchange, Patton and I support you however we can. That seems like a fair trade, no?”

“Well... first of all, borrowers aren’t human.”

Borrower. Logan filed that word away in the back of his mind. He’d ask Virgil about it later.

“Second, that’s not a deal I can make. How do I know you won’t keep me in a jar or something?”

“Well, I haven’t yet, have I?” Logan asked. “If I truly wished to harm you, I would have done so by now.”

Virgil grit his teeth. “Yeah, cause you don’t have to. I can barely move. No point in trapping me if I can’t run away.”

Logan opened his mouth to retort but found himself unable to come up with a sufficient reply. “I suppose… you’ll just have to trust me.”

Virgil was tempted to holler with laughter. Instead, he bit his tongue and looked away. There was still one thing plaguing his mind—would Logan get mad if he asked?

“...The camera footage.”

“...What?”

“You recorded me,” Virgil muttered quietly, tugging at his sleeves. “Delete the video.”

Logan was about to ask why but thought better of it. “Would that make you feel better?” A nod. “Very well. I’ll see to deleting it right away.”

Virgil didn’t say anything else. As far as he knew, Logan could be lying about deleting the video to gain his trust. There’s no way a human would comply that easily.

“So…” Logan looked down at the borrower in his hands. He loomed menacingly, though not on purpose, causing Virgil to flinch away. “Do we have a deal, then?”

“It’s not much of a deal,” Virgil sighed. He shifted a bit, still not used to the feeling of being held by such a giant creature. “Fine. Just... n—no cages or anything. Please?”

“No cages. Understood.” Logan’s other hand hovered upwards. A single index finger was left hanging before Virgil. “Shake on it?”

Virgil froze, hesitant, before tentatively reading out to grab Logan’s finger. He shook it firmly, or at least he tried to. The finger was just so heavy that he couldn’t budge it much. Logan nodded, satisfied, and Virgil retreated to the centre of the palm. “So… now what?”

Right on cue, Logan let out a hearty yawn. “Perhaps a nap is in order. I understand you’ve been awake all night. Resting would be beneficial.”

“A nap?” Shrugging, Virgil nodded. “Okay, but how is that gonna—whoa whoa WHOA!!” Virgil lunged backwards and latched the thumb beside him with a death grip, gasping deeply as Logan stood to his full height. The distant kitchen floor shrunk beneath him. “P—put me down!”

“In a moment.” Logan rubbed his eyes with his free hand as he stumbled into the next room. Virgil, through his dizziness and vertigo, immediately recognized it as the living room. The TV was on—although it was muted—and an unfolded blanket was crumpled on the carpet. Logan silently plucked the blanket off the ground and sat on the nearby sofa, huffing contentedly as he stretched his body out.

Virgil was finally given the sweet release of solid ground… sort of. Logan gently set him on his chest. Virgil moved to sit up but was pushed into a lying position by Logan’s finger. “I—” Virgil groaned as he tried to sit up, but was pushed onto his back a second time. “I—I didn’t think you were gonna sleep with me.”

“I’ve been up all night. I need to rest too.” He moved the blanket so it covered his body, then set the very edge of the blanket over Virgil. “Goodnight, Virgil.”

Virgil chuckled nervously, a bit annoyed and shaken up but still amused. He pulled the blanket upwards, trying to ignore the rhythmic pulsing of Logan’s heart right below him. God, that was weird. “Alright. Goodnight, I guess.”

Part 7:

Logan and Virgil slept very soundly that night. Much later, a few hours before the sun would begin to peek over the horizon, Patton finally rushed back down with a small plastic bin in his arms. “Logan! I found it! I don’t know if they’ll fit, but maybe I can… uh…”

Patton’s words died on his tongue at the sight before him. Logan, with his arm dangling off the edge of the sofa, was snoring quietly. Virgil was curled up in the nook of his neck, completely motionless. They must have been asleep for a while, Patton realized. He glanced at the bin in his arms, then back at the sleeping pair, and let out a sigh. A smile made its way to his lips as he carefully set the box down near the couch.

“Logan,” he whispered, tapping the sleeping man’s shoulder. Logan murmured, stirring awake. Patton grinned at the sight. “Go to bed. Don’t sleep on the couch.”

Logan exhaled deeply and moved his hand, holding Virgil securely to his chest as he rose to a seated position. “Okay,” he sighed, standing slowly as to not wake up Virgil. Luckily, the borrower didn’t budge. “Patton, about those traps I set…”

“I’ll put them away,” Patton whispered. “Just go sleep, kiddo… I’ll take care of it.”

Logan smiled sleepily. “Thank you, Patton.”

“Go on.” Patton gently shoved Logan towards the direction of the stairs. “Get some sleep, alright?”

Moving carefully, Logan made his way upstairs, cradling Virgil in one hand and cupping him with the other. Logan wasn’t really sure how this was going to work. Where could Virgil sleep? Surely not on the bed—he’d be crushed if Logan rolled over. A night table with a blanket could suffice, but it would no doubt be very uncomfortable. And he could easily fall off sometime during the night.

Logan glanced up as he reached the top of the stairs. His eyes landed on the glittery ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign that dangled from a dusty, scarcely used doorknob. The guest room.

Neither Logan nor Patton set foot the third bedroom often. It used to belong to a mutual friend, one they’d met while in their first year of college. But that friend had long moved away to an art school in a different state. Now the room was more of a storage room than an actual residence.

Logan pushed the door ajar and stuck his head inside. The room was a total disaster, as per usual. Laundry was scattered everywhere, pencils and books were strewn about haphazardly, and the closet’s contents were spilling onto the floor. How anyone lived in these conditions, Logan would never know.

Then, by some stroke of luck, Logan’s eye managed to catch a splotch of blue from within the depths of the closet. The man tiptoed inside as if Roman would appear out of the blue and scold Logan for intruding. Logan shook the thought away as he reached his free hand into the closet, quietly dragging out a large blue bin. The lid popped off with minimal effort, leaving a wide assortment of toys exposed for Logan to sift through. He dipped his hand into the mess of action figures and model cars, feeling around until his fingers grasped a familiar object. “Perfect,” Logan whispered, fishing the object out.

It was one of the pieces to Roman’s old dollhouse—a small bed, just the right size for a borrower. The rest of the furniture set was probably somewhere in that bin, but Logan couldn’t bring himself to find all the pieces. It would take him hours. As he stood to leave, Logan briefly considered if doll furniture would demean Virgil, but the practicality of it outweighed Logan’s concerns. He put the bin of toys away with as much care as he could muster before meandering back to his room.

The surface beneath Virgil shifted and swayed like a boat. He woke up with a start, instinctively grasping onto the nearest object. Coincidently, that object happened to be a thumb. Virgil was in someone’s hands.

“H—hey!” he yelped, trying not to peer over the edge of the palm. “What the hell?!”

The sudden shout caused Logan to flinch. He glanced down at Virgil with a frown. Virgil couldn’t even see Logan’s whole face with the way it loomed overhead. “You’re awake,” he commented dryly.

Virgil hid his erratic breathing behind a scoff. “Y—yeah, I’m awake. Could you, like… put me down? Please?”

“Of course. Just a moment.” Logan took one last look around the room before finally placing Virgil on Logan’s desk. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

“It’s whatever,” Virgil muttered, clutching his clothes tightly. He steeled himself enough to look at Logan fully but found himself backpedalling as a giant hand lowered itself towards Virgil.

“Here you are,” Logan whispered, placing something onto the table next to Virgil. “Will this suffice for tonight?”

Virgil’s mouth hung open as a small bed, about the size of Logan’s hand, slid onto the desk before him. It was a perfect scale replica of a human’s bed, complete with blankets, a pillow, and a small toy bear. Virgil reached out to touch the bear, surprised to feel plush instead of hard plastic. His hand ran down along the blanket, feeling the intricate pattern weaved into it. And the pillow… Virgil couldn’t help himself. He grasped the pillow tightly and buried his face into it, exhaling in contentment. He’d never had a real pillow before. “Where did you get this?”

“Our old roommate keeps his collection of toys in the spare room. I found that bed with his old dollhouse set.”

“An old dollhouse set,” Virgil repeated, laughing curtly at the notion. This bed was nothing more than a toy. The borrower carefully clambered onto the tiny mattress, shocked at how soft and plushy it was. “It’s pretty comfy for a doll bed. Man, humans have the coolest stuff.”

As Virgil busied himself with bundling the blankets onto himself, Logan’s expression suddenly changed. His face softened, and his eyes didn’t seem so piercing anymore. He looked… sad. “Virgil,” he began, slowly seating himself on his bed, “have you ever owned a bed?”

“Uh… not really, no.” Virgil pulled the blankets up and over his legs. “I mostly used fabric scraps and cotton balls. Whatever I could get my hands on.” Logan failed to notice Virgil gripping the blankets so tightly that his fists were turning white. “...One time, me and Deceit managed to find an old hat in the alleyway. He kinda claimed it as a bed for himself, and I slept in it whenever he was gone. It was the closest we had to an actual bed.”

Virgil shifted uncomfortably, looking away from Logan’s attentive gaze. “I still can’t believe he’s gone.”

“I... I wish I knew what to say,” Logan stammered with a grimace. “I can’t imagine this is an easy change for you.”

“Not really, no.” The borrower muttered, hiding his face under the blankets. The blankets were so warm. Virgil found himself struggling to keep his eyes open. “But I’m okay now.”

Logan hummed. He looked unconvinced. “You don’t mean that.” It wasn’t a question, either. Judging by the bags under his eyes and the redness of his face, Logan could safely deduce that Virgil was, in fact, not okay in the slightest.

A laugh bubbled from Virgil’s sore throat. “Yeah, not really.” Virgil yawned, snuggling further into the pillow. It did a fantastic job of hiding the tears building behind his eyes. “But... I’m better.”

Logan hummed a second time, not quite satisfied with that answer. “I suppose that’s a more honest statement.” He moved to flick the lights off before pausing and turning back to Virgil. “Will you be alright sleeping there? I can move you elsewhere if you wish.”

“No, I’m good.”

Logan nodded and moved away. Darkness flooded the room; Virgil heard the sounds of Logan fumbling back towards his bed. The blankets were shuffled around as the human settled onto the mattress. “You are to wake me up if you need anything. Do we have a deal?”

“Meh.”

“I’m serious, Virgil.”

Virgil rolled his eyes. “Fine, I’ll wake you up or whatever.” Under his breath, he muttered something else, quietly enough that Logan almost missed it. “I hope hamster cages are comfy.”

Logan’s mouth was moving before he realized he wasn’t supposed to hear that last part. “I won’t put you in a cage, Virgil. I plan on keeping my promise.”

At first, Virgil didn’t reply. But then, a quiet voice spoke up. “How would I know that?” The borrower sniffled a bit. “I—I want to believe you're good, but I can’t afford to trust the wrong person again.” He paused to sob. “I just... can’t.”

“Virgil…” Logan sighed, straining his eyes to see Virgil in the darkness.

Virgil continued to ramble, choking back more sobs. “I want to trust you. I want to believe you. But I don’t wanna get hurt again.”

Logan dejected at that, silent for a moment, before standing up suddenly and shuffling across the room. Virgil eyed him cautiously, afraid of what the human was planning. But Logan simply sat down at his desk and opened his laptop, clicking his mouse a few times. Virgil couldn’t see what he was doing until the screen was suddenly rotated towards him.

Logan gestured to the screen. “The video has been deleted. There’s no trace of you in my files.”

Wait, he... he actually did it? That was unexpected. Virgil felt the tension in his body suddenly unwind at those words. “Oh. Uh… thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.” Logan found his hand snaking its way towards Virgil, stroking the borrower’s side with a gentle brush of fingers. Virgil gasped in fright at first, but settled back down when he wasn’t being prodded or grabbed. “I know it must be difficult to trust me, especially after all you’ve been through tonight. But that’s okay. I don’t expect you to trust me right away—that would be foolish of me.”

Virgil sniffed again. “You’re not mad?”

Logan smiled, setting the laptop aside. “Of course not.”

That seemed to put Virgil at ease. His small body began to unfurl, slowly but surely. The sobbing continued quietly. “...Thanks, Logan.”

“You’re very welcome.”

Logan continued to soothe him, even though Virgil had gone quiet a few minutes ago. After a while longer, Logan finally noticed that Virgil fell asleep. The steady, shallow breathing could barely be heard from such a tiny throat. The human smiled wearily and retracted his hand. It was time for him to get to bed, too.

Logan allowed himself a few moments of peace once he was properly bundled within the blankets. Aside from the distant sounds of Patton downstairs and the strips of sunlight leaking through the closed blinds, the entire room was frozen in space and time. These moments of uninterrupted silence were usually welcome, allowing Logan to think without distractions. But now, the silence was a curse. The rampant thoughts swirling through his mind rose to a deafening roar. Logan pulled his pillow over his ears with a groan.

The man peeked out from beneath the pillowcase. Virgil was still asleep, tucked into a ball beneath the toy fabrics. Their meeting was such an unlikely occurrence that Logan had to wonder if he was seeing things. But he'd only been awake for about 25 hours straight; hallucinations due to lack of sleep didn't start until at least 30 or 40 hours of staying awake. Virgil was real, as difficult as it was to believe.

Perhaps he should skip class today.

Now that Virgil was asleep and calm—and far less likely to panic in his presence—it was tempting for Logan to take notes. He threw a sideways glance towards his notebook, sprawled open upon his desk by the laptop. The pages fluttered against the hot air coming from the nearby vent, taunting Logan incessantly. It couldn't hurt to just write some basic observations, would it? Things like height, behaviours he'd noticed earlier, maybe a quick sketch if he had time...

...But no. Virgil wouldn't appreciate his privacy being violated like that. The existence of these so-called borrowers seemed to be a secret Virgil was dead set on keeping, and for good reason. Logan wanted to know as much as he could about these mysterious miniature humanoids, but he also wanted Virgil to feel safe in his home. That’s why he offered Virgil a place to stay, after all.

Logan sighed; he'd have to put his curiosity on the shelf for now. His priority had to lie with Virgil's wellbeing. That was the deal. And Logan intended to keep his end of the deal, no matter what.

With that thought, he finally fell asleep.

[thunderbird-one-ai]

Compromised Chapter 1 Part 3

Chapter 1 Part 1 Chapter 1 Part 2

This is the final section of Chapter 1. As of right now I am slowly making my way through chapter 2 where things might get a little spicy. 

part 3: Scott

The prison was a mess, fires littered one side of the building bellowing smoke, making it easy to spot from far away. The walls were at least one metre thick with reinforced concrete to make simply drilling or even using mass produced explosives would not have much effect on the building itself. Scott thought back to Kayos words that the explosives were specially made to affect the building this badly. As Thunderbird One flew across the area, he was made aware of the coast not too far from the prison. Maybe that was The Hoods plan, to escape by sea by means of a boat or submarine. His sensors might not be able to reach the bottom of the coast and there was only one person or machine that could in this short time.

“Thunderbird One to Thunderbird Two,” Scott said through comms, he’d rather inform them now before Thunderbird Two got here, the less time they spent changing plans meaning the better chance they have of finding escapees, finding The Hood.

“Thunderbird Two to Thunderbird One, go ahead,”

“I think we are going to need Thunderbird Four around the coast to see if anyone is escaping via the water, if this is a planned assault they might have thought to use the water as their escape,” Scott said firmly. He could practically hear Gordon smiling.

“F.A.B Thunderbird One,” Gordon replied.

The mission was straight forward. Gordon had indeed been able to find some criminals trying to swim to freedom. However, there were no boats or underwater vehicles waiting for those prisoners. Virgil landed Thunderbird Two and Alan controlled one of Brain’s machines to help with the containment of the fires and aid in restoring some infrastructure to the worst affected parts of the building. Scott and Kayo had also worked together to locate some other missing inmates that had got a little further into the mainland.

John was tasked with keeping the relations with the GDF members and International Rescue on good grounds. It had always been rocky even with their dad’s miracle return to the head of IR. Scott mentally reminded himself to check in on John when he landed Thunderbird One to make sure his younger brother was handling the GDF well. He knew his brother much preferred talking to the GDF through pixels than rather being there in person.

“Everyone this is John,” he began, “All of the staff members are accounted for, but some prisoners aren’t. With the information Gordon has sent me I doubt they are trying to escape by sea still. The same can be said for them being near the prison itself since myself, Virgil and Alan have it covered. I’d suggest Thunderbird One and Shadow should widen their search, going to the small groups of GDF near the more remote areas,”

“Is one of the prisoners The Hood?” Scott asked

“I’ve only got prison numbers so I’m unsure,” John replied. Scott couldn’t completely agree on himself on whether this was a true statement or a false one.

“Maybe run the numbers over the files and see if you can figure it out,”

“The GDF wouldn’t give me permission for that,”

Scott let out a quiet groan of frustration. Of course. They wouldn’t give John any access to their network since they didn’t like International Rescue at all. This lack of trust is what let so many people like The Hood get away with so many attacks in the first place. “I’ll check the North east area see if I can find anything,” he closed the comms before letting John finish his F.A.B statement.

 Scott landed his Bird near the furthest post the GDF has set up, making sure they had the area within covered. To call it a post was an exaggeration since it was merely two armoured trucks, blocking a dirt road, and not even a handful of GDF members. The forest wasn’t too much further and the ground before that was overgrown with small hills poking through the grass. A perfect place if one wanted to hide. He would have to do another fly over and scan the area. This post was the furthest away from the prison, with the least amount of security, if The Hood wanted a quick getaway this would be the place. Scott sighed. There were too many open areas, too many places that someone like The Hood could escape to.

As he started moving back to Thunderbird One, a young boy ran out of the forest crying and calling for help. Scott stopped the boy telling him to calm down and that it would be okay. These words seem to have little effect as the younger one in front of him gulped in air, telling Scott that someone had hurt his dad and wouldn’t let him go. Throughout this entire commotion, the GDF members seemed to have their back conveniently turned away. He wasn’t surprised that The Hood was able to escape the GDF’s grasp and be compromised by the Chaos crew all those months ago with this lack of consideration.

“It’s okay, we’ll get him back, show me where you last saw him,” Scott said sternly. The public were already getting hurt. Maybe this attack on this father and son was The Hood trying to cause mayhem and pain already. The kid started running into the overgrown grass, Scott followed closely behind. He had to stay alert and ready for a possible ambush, something The Hood was well known for. Still, it would be best to update his brothers on the situation. “John I’m in pursuit of some more stowaways. It looks like they’ve taken someone hostage whilst they made a break for it. Going to see if I can spot them,” there was silence, no one responded. “Virgil can you get hold of John?” again nothing but silence, not a good sign, something couldn’t have possibly gone wrong at the prison site, right? He did a quick once over with this communicator, it was working fine, no faults in the system meaning that something or someone was stopping him from sending out the transmission. Scott was becoming more convinced this was The Hoods work. He must have been right in suspecting he would get away. Finally, he saw three figures in the opening, not great odds. The boy ran forward, shouting and waving his arms, making it impossible to even try and surprise them. As he walked into the opening, he could see the man who must have been the father on the floor looking worried whilst two orange clad prisoners looked forward almost shocked. They were opposites to one another. The inmate to the fathers left was tall and lanky whereas the other was short and portly.

“We told you to not bring a GDF person kid!” the taller inmate shouted, sounding a little less angry than Scott was expecting.

“Well I’m not exactly GDF though am I?” Scott replied quickly, although that really didn’t help the situation from an individual who had made it this far from the prison.

“We’re going to be let free you hear! Or this old man gets it!” One of the prisoners grabbed the boy’s father by the collar lifting him roughly.

Scott glanced between the two prisoners trying to figure out which one of them was more likely to be The Hood in disguise. Neither inmate looked like The Hood but that was nothing new with the technology available to him in the past. “Look you’re not going to make it far with two hostages. Let the father go, they’ve done nothing wrong.”

“We need him to escap-“

“Look I know one of you is The Hood,” Scott snapped, his blood rushing through his veins “ Just give up you’re not going to make it far,” with the alteration between his father not an hour ago, Scott’s emotions reached their boiling point. “Which ever one of you isn’t The Hood, why work for someone who doesn’t care. He’s destroyed some families and tried to break others apart. Why would he care about someone he met in a prison cell?”

Both prisoners look to each other unsure on what to say still having a firm hold on the father between them who began to groan softly. “Please, just let me go to see my boy,” the father sounded desperate. Scott couldn’t help but have a flash of parallel to how he felt when his dad went missing all those years ago. It was at this point Scott realised he was way more emotionally invested in this situation then they were.

He took a step forward, “Just let him go!” he tried to force himself to stop sounding so desperate and to keep level-headed.

Again, both inmates looked at each other. Scott could tell that they were going through their fight or flight moment. Either they were going to start to drag the father away or leave the father and make a run for it. He hoped for the latter. Thankfully he was right. As if on cue, the inmates roughly pushed the poor father forward. He would have had a nasty bash to the head is Scott hadn’t moved a split second after, to slow and cushion the older mans fall.

Scott breathed a heavy sigh of relief as he helped the fallen man sit up straight. That was far too close, he got too emotional during that situation. Heck, he’d been emotional during this entire mission. Maybe after all this, it was time to have a proper conversation with his father. He was sure to add his apologies for how he acted today during that talk as well. As that thought came to mind, he did not notice the fathers hand moving around the back of his neck. A sharp sting caused him to physically react and pull away from the father’s hand, gripping the back of his neck defensively.

“I was expecting someone to come and rescue the poor boy’s father. But you, Scott Tracy got here in record time,” Scott watched in disbelief, as the supposed injured father standing up, hand going to his neck to pull away a metallic band. As if looking at an old hologram buffer, the fathers face changed to one he knew all to well.

“H-Hood…” Scott couldn’t even think straight let alone speak straight. As he tried to use his remaining willpower to concentrate, he didn’t even notice the world moving sideways until his face smacked against the ground.

[peachyteabuck]

everywhere, everything, anything

summary: thor meets a cat in new asgard. 

pairing: thor odinson x brunnhilde 

words: 1,424

trigger warnings: angst, takes space in the space between canons that the mcu is made up of, some fluff. 

notes/other: my therapist told me “you need to recenter your hobbies so that you find joy in them. self care comes from the appreciation and dedication to self, not obligation.” so i wrote this. also, @m00nlightdelights gave me like $15 for my first tattoo & this is my thank you. 

ask box / masterlist / commission info / ko-fi

Thor meets him the day he goes to pick up his month shipment of Misgardian alcohol. There, in a house made from empty crates and discarded fishing net, lies a large cat. Freckled with dark grey patches with swirls of lighter and lighter greys, he looks at Thor with translucent green eyes. Large pupils, a swishing tail. Thor chooses not to move the animal just looking for somewhere other than the cold, muddy ground to sleep. He, in all his regality, understands the creature’s desire for such basic accommodations.

Brunnhilde notices the creature two weeks from the day Thor gives him an old towel for the feline to sleep on. She loves Thor, loves her with each cell in her fatigued body, and that is why she does not mention anything until she notices the collar, the nameplate around the grey mass’s fluffy neck.

It’s red – not blood red – but red like cherry-flavored beverages, like the remnants of a red velvet cupcake on a paper plate. Red of a shift worn down from time and love. Red, the cheeks of a twelve-year-old with a crush. Brun walks to the cat with narrowed eyes and a container full of ground fish.

The cat, one very happy to accept such a prized snack, does not mind when Brun moves to check the small letters indented into the shiny silver.

Lands-maðr

New Asgard

If found, please leave me alone

Brun snorts, and does as the nameplate tells her to.

She brings it up that night as she cooks, slicing meats and vegetables into a crockpot so it can become a meal as she and Thor sleep. It’s a mess, the counters and kitchen, but she likes it. It’s a sign of something warmer than the chill running through her veins. Thor’s there, leaning against the counter, stealing bits of vegetables and suggesting spice combinations as if he knows what he’s talking about. Brun doesn’t snap at him, though, just rolls her eyes and directs the conversation towards something else.

It’s when Thor mentions coriander that she mentions the new addition to their property. Thor, unlike before, says very little. He simply shrugs, and bites into a bit of celery.

“Showed up one day,” he says.

Brun nods. “I knew that part.”

Thor shrugs again. Not much else to tell.

Brun doesn’t push him, just sets the timer and ushers him into their massive, messy bed. He snores as loud as usual, but in the early morning when she goes to shower the dried sweat from her nightmares she doesn’t find him dead asleep. Rather, he’s tapping away at a laptop that’d nearly been busted in a fit of anger a few weeks prior. When he abandons it for his own shower, Brun can’t help but peak at the cracked screen.

It’s some pet website. Specifically, something called a cat tree. Brun scoffs and rolls her eyes. Nonetheless, she finds it a little heartwarming that Thor has something to focus on besides how his literal and figurative world was blown to bits and how it may have been but also wasn’t his fault and –

Exactly twenty-three days later, she finds a weather-proof cat tree four feet to the left of the large stack of crates. The mid-afternoon sun is bright and warm, something Lands-maðr is well aware of as he lays on the highest platform in a sun beam. Brun, a woman who has worked tirelessly for everything she has, glares at the creature. Not in anger or jealousy, per se, but marvel.

Just shows up in Thor Odinson’s yard and suddenly gets to live like a king who hasn’t been displaced. Still, she can’t remain too mad when she finally runs her fingers through that beautiful, thick fur – all that warmer as it heats in the sun.

The first time Lands-maðr wades his way inside, he jumps in through a window as Brun and Thor clean the house. It’s the last warm (well, their definition of warm) day of the year, and they celebrate by opening up the house to let the fresh air in while they scrub and wipe and sweet, slow songs play in the background. Thor treats the feline’s presence as something normal, welcomes the animal as it follows him around and brrrooowwws every once and awhile to force Thor’s hand to give him the attention he so deservedly wishes for. Sometimes Lands-maðr receives pieces of chicken and fish and bread for his troubles, something Brun may or may not contribute to.

For the first few hours she considers saying something, considers telling Thor to stick the cat back outside or question him about this grey mass that has decided all on his lonesome he now lived in their home with these two humans who have so humbly devoted themselves to his servitude. But, after Lands-maðr finds himself a bed in the form of a pile of fresh-out-of-the-dryer laundry and swishes that tail around as he stares at Brun while she so indignantly pulls more and more of his throne from him so she can put them away, Lands-maðr looks at her with this large, green eyes with large, round pupils and she cracks. Her heart cracks. And she decides this creature has staked enough of himself in the wood walls of their home there’s no way she can kick him out.

“Fine,” she mumbles to herself. The next few words she mumbles to the cat (a fact she’s just a little bit ashamed of). “But only because you make him happy.”

Lands-maðr does nothing in response.

That night forward, Lands-maðr spends each night on Thor’s massive chest, warming the man’s face and purring louder than anything Brunnhilde’s ever heard in her entire goddamn life. Lands-maðr’s good about sharing Thor, let’s Brun curl up into her lover’s side and rest her head on the small bit shoulder not covered in fluff. Lands-maðr also takes care not to smother Brun in her sleep, something she greatly appreciates.

Maybe she now has to share the love of her life with some other creature, but when she wakes up each morning and doesn’t feel Thor tenser than the day previous – instead feeling him calm and sated as this cat warms his skin – Brun thinks giving up real estate when she cuddles Thor is worth it.

One night, Brunnhilde has to leave. Some diplomatic thing, Thor calls it. A way for New Asgard to get access to a larger variety of produce from a neighboring place that’s been growing beautiful fruit in these large greenhouses and New Asgard has been struggling to-

Either way, Thor is left by his lonesome for a little over seventy-two hours. This, before all of it, wouldn’t be a problem. He’s a grown man, he’s a grown man who can handle himself and can remember to feed himself and remember to bathe himself.

He is also a grown man who uses the woman he loves to keep the voices in his head that tell him to curl up in a ball and never leave the house. The ones that tell him to eat nothing all day because he forgets he’s a living thing that needs to eat, the one that makes him watch seven seasons worth of trashy television in less than a week.

He’s fine for the first day or so, but as the sun sets on night two (2) alone, every bit of medical grade steel he’s used to keep the rest of the world out disintegrates in his hands like…like…

Thor cries, cement in his ribs making it hard to breathe and heart desperately beating to keep his hands from becoming too cold. Tears, thick fat ones that rest in his beard, roll down his face like waves onto a shored ship. He makes no move to wipe them from his face.

“Am I some sort of infection?” His voice is low as the cat accepts his pitiful attempt at pets. “My skin – it remembers. It knows each piece of ruin New Asgard has built itself out of, built itself without me.” Thor sniffles again, rubbing at his face with the hoodie he’s worn every day for the past two weeks. “How am I ever to apologize to my people sufficiently? To myself?” he sniffs. “How am I to apologize to you, for bringing all these foreign people to a place such rightfully yours?”

Lands-maðr, still purring louder than two ships hitting each other during a lightning storm, simply rubs the flat of his head against Thor’s chin.

Apology accepted.  

[brightsun-and-darkmidnight]

Heartbeat: A Fragile Reminder

TITLE: Heartbeat: A Fragile Reminder

CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 13 / ?

AUTHOR: brightsun-and-dark midnight

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Loki falling in love with a Midgardian and his words to Thor about Jane during Dark World coming back to haunt him. “It would be a heartbeat. You would never be ready.”

RATING:  M for Mature

NOTES/WARNINGS: ~▪︎~FOR THE WHOLE STORY~▪︎~

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Check Masterlist. It's going to be a long read. I try to keep each chapter around 3,000 words.

My Ao3: brightsun_and_darkmidnight

!-!TRIGGER WARNING(S)!-!

So many triggers, read ALL of them!

Swearing. Angst. Death. Depression. Violence. Self-harm. Regret. Carelessness for safety. Doubts. Torture. NSFW. Smut. Fluff. And Of Course- Mischief.

Summary: Out in the open.

 ~ ~ ENJOY  ~ ~

Many more weeks passed. The Avengers and civilians knew about their relationship since they went on more dates, took walks and browsed stores together. During all hours of the day when both of them were free from duties. 

Alicia went to press conferences to support him. They tried to question her, Alicia held her hands up as if to stop the questions, shook her head. Then pointed at the Avengers or Asgardians. "I'm not the one here to be questioned."

However things got really personal when a reporter asked, "How did you get a woman like Alicia? Especially with your history."

The look on Loki's face was confident but at the last statement she saw his eyebrows furrowed for a second. Then complete mischief in his eyes. "You think I had her fall for me?" 

Everyone was silent besides a few clicks of cameras. "Well yes," the waver in the reporter's voice was a stark contrast from the confidence he displayed earlier.

Alicia bit her lip trying not to laugh and to stop from smiling too big in anticipation.

"Well you all have seen her charm." Loki waved his hand towards Alicia. She shrugged dramatically at the attention and the room filled with laughter.

Every one knew of Alicia. The sweet girl with the God of lies.

However only Loki and SHIELD agents were aware Alicia was apart of SHEILD and was trained to protect herself. It was agreed among those people Alicia would be transferred to the Avengers and become part of that team soon.

Targets were on her head even more with their relationship official. There was a group chat found by SHIELD that people were planning on using her to get to Loki as revenge for New York. People had approached Alicia while Loki was, and was not present. Alicia used her wit and calming charm to keep the situation non violent as possible. In other words preventing Loki from killing anyone.

There were people who supported the relationship because they saw how happy both of them were. Alicia had won the hearts of those people herself, mostly. Loki had acquired several fan bases at how protective he was over her. Innocent chats had that perspective. 

Then, dark chats among the BDSM community made their desires for the dark prince unashamedly clear. People tried to flirt with both of them, Loki got jealous when Alicia was flirted with while Alicia found it amusing, greatly loving the sex after those encounters. No matter of how gentle or rough the sex was: Loki was persistent of being on top to be able to satisfy her.

The times when they both consented to rough love making Alicia loved reminders. Loki was very hesitant about not healing her but came to the agreement to leave his mark on places no one would see. He also made her agree to letting him heal her to a subtle discomfort. Loki knew by now how to handle her subspace and the aftermath that sometimes followed. A ton of cuddling, warmth, chocolate, and if they had time he would read or talk to her until she fell asleep.

The Avengers were fiercely protective of Alicia. They might have "happened to be in the same location as them." Loki held her close when Thor was around, those nights were particularly possessive. Loki loved to take her slowly but with dirty talk.

"You love when I take you like this?" Loki demanded in Alicia's ear, thrusting deep into her from behind and pulling on her hair. The other hand between her legs, fingers rubbing her very sensitive nerves as his arm pulled her backwards. She often was too wrapped into pleasure but Loki continued with his observation. "Love to have me absolutely crazy while you are so friendly with all those idiotic pursuers. And you don't want me to do anything to them. Yes, I know you love those encounters because you are always drenched with anticipation. Even now you are dripping down both of our thighs." 

Loki would roll his hips more dramatically that she loved, "ooh Darling. Are you so close now? I can feel you rippling with need. Maybe I should stop and leave you frustrated as I am-" 

Alicia would beg urgently for release, telling him she wasn't flirting. Loki knew she never flirted, but her being nice drove him insane. She did decline their advances and got closer to Loki. Of Course he would hold her and glare at the brave individual.

With a slap to her rear and a tug on her hair, he growled loudly,  "Must you always use the same excuse?" 

Alicia would apologize with her promise that he was the only one for her. 

"You be sure to remember that." And Loki would give her further reminders as to who she belonged to.

Loki did not need to worry so much when they went to Asgard. She was dressed in his colors which marked her as his. No one dared to step out of line like the disrespectful Midgardians.

Alicia wore the armor the first few times she was at Asgard. She complained a multitude of time and then completely refused to touch the metal. Alicia swore up and down that she was never going to wear armor ever again because it was uncomfortable. Even after Loki had many designs for her, she refused. Once Loki explained that armor is just part of Asgardian culture she gave lean way… but she was somehow winning the battle with less protective armor with each visit.

On days filled with pure joy like today. They caught the most attention by everyone because they were like young lovers. Loki had her by his side as he spoke with Thor, Jane, and others about matters of Asgardians. Alicia gave him a kiss on the cheek and excused herself.

Alicia walked towards the direction of the bathrooms and disappeared into the crowds. Making a huge loop around to children playing with bubbles. She wanted to have fun with them and asked for their assistance in mischief. She guided them down wind from the group she just left and told them to produce as many bubbles as they could. 

The bubbles were carried by the gentle wind and caught everyone's attention. The children squealed when they were caught and laughed as Loki chased a sprinting Alicia. Loki yelled at her for disturbing the conversation. Then caught her from behind and spun her around. 

Alicia was trying to pry his arms away from her, "Loki put me down!"

"No Love. I think I might just carry you all day."

Alicia laughed at the suggestion. "Loki! People are staring!"

"So let them," purred into her ear.

Loki carried her back to the group despite her vocal protests. Her premature laughter gave away her plans. As soon as Loki set her down she tried to get away. Loki pulled her close and held her firmly against him so she could not cause more mischief.

 Everyone knew it was all good fun and were laughing at the couple. Loki's smug look turned into a forced seriousness, which furthered Thor's laugh. Loki's voice was low and authoritative, "Now Jane was just discussing about making a new bifrost on Earth before the disruption."

Alicia pushed on his chest with a teasing huff.

Alicia admired the beautiful light elf woman that spoke up, "It would make it much easier for us and other realms to keep in contact. Traveling from Alfheim is very long and dangerous." Her light-hearted facial expressions turned hard as she was in thought. Her very tan skin and long lighter hair color glowing in the sunlight. 

She and her companions looked heavenly. Her once bright eyes were clouded with thoughts that Alicia felt were dark in nature.

Thor crossed his arms and looked down in thought. "We will need similar materials as the one we had in Asgard. We would also need to convince the people of Earth to let such a powerful machine be built. SHEILD would be difficult since it would open more travel to Midgard."

"In order for us to start, all travelers to Midgard should be instructed to bring supplies." Alicia watched Loki rub his lips in thought, "do we have the instructions or designs for this? It will take an immense amount of magic to get the bifrost up and running."

"There is knowledge on the subject but it is kept among the older architects and sorcerers." Thor spoke again, "I have discussed with them and naturally they are weary to share the information with non-Asgardians." Thor made a displeased sound, "should the bifrost fail it would cause mass damage damage to Earth."

Alicia had a quick idea and spoke fast to keep the vaguely preplanned speech from fleeing her mind, "Could it be placed in space? Travel could be restricted to Earth because transportation would be needed to even reach the planet. I imagine placed further away the catastrophic damage would be less than if placed on the actual planet." She felt Loki rub her side with his thumb as praise.

Jane was filled with excitement. "She could be onto something. The materials would not take up space on Earth and would already be in the location for easier placement. We would need to figure out the perfect spot to minimize potential damage. We could make simulations to get a better idea."

"We still need to discuss the idea with Midgard to maintain the peace we have." Loki looked confident but Alicia saw his forced worry.

Alicia spoke up, "Given the fact that travel is still going to happen without the bifrost, that could be the best leverage we have. As well as it would keep the peace between all other world's. Thus resulting in more treaties and less war."

One of the Asgardian advisors laughed with amusement, "these two have switched mindsets since they got together."

Alicia smiled at Loki, "I think we bring out all aspects and compliment each other."

The other advisor that was significantly older spoke up with pure joy, "It's as if Loki is a millennium younger."

A heartbeat.

Loki did not want to be younger.

Alicia poked his side with a gleam in her eye. "He brings out my younger self too."

Thor smiled but he sighed heavily.

Valkyrie spoke up, "We will prepare a speech for a live broadcast after running through simulations, list of supplies, and talking with the elders."

"For now let everyone rest. It was a long day and we all have an abundance of things to think about. We will be in touch." The light elves left without another word.

"Ladies how about you go ahead of us. I would like to speak to Loki."

Loki rose an eyebrow at Thor.

"Do not fret brother we will be close behind them."

Loki watched as the elders walked away and then Alicia go with Valkyrie and Jane in another direction. Alicia and Jane talked excitedly about something and Alicia gestured widely around her. The shoulderless cape that started at the intricate gold metal around her shoulders as well as around her upper back. The metal was connected by a lace that was woven criss cross across her collar bones. Down and around her shoulders hung chains. The cape connected a small amount in front to the armpit and as well as the place between her shoulder blades, of course to the metal shoulder protection. The pieces were connected by golden metal bracelets. Anytime she moved her arms the sheer fabric moved with her. 

The dress she had on was strapless and brought the attention to the bare spots of chest, shoulders, and shoulder blades not hidden by the poor excuse of protection. Of course she refused to wear armor so Loki had the designers come up with intricate designs of metal. Even if it was not really going to help in defense in anyway. Metal was common in Asgard. 

Alicia's dress flowed with the wind as well. The silk dress had a variation of green shades but stayed close to his emerald color. There was a black sash blowing to the side and Loki remembered it hanging loosely around her hips, capturing the lower half of her body due to the vertical ripple of dark and lighter greens of the dress.

The sun broke through the clouds and everything glowed. Her skin. Hair. The metal caught in the more pronounced areas. From his spot behind her the dress was even able to catch some light through the sheer black cape. Loki wished he could be in front of her as she walked, see that smile playing on her face as she talked to Jane and her eyes lit up as bright as the sun.

"You really love her don't you?"

Loki's face turned but his eyes stayed on her till they no longer could. "You have heard me tell her that many times."

"I think you should officially court her. Ask her."

"Thor. It is only a mere two months before our year anniversary. Midgardians do not get engaged in a short amount of time."

"Well… some do after a few hours."

Loki scoffed as Thor started to walk to follow the women, "and the sooner they are engaged the less success the marriage has." Loki looked at Thor, "and what about you? When is your ceremony?"

Thor's smile was nervous, "I was actually planning to ask her during dinner."

"You two get along well enough... I suppose if things don't go well I could veil you in smoke, if that would help."

"Loki.."

He snickered at Thor's nerves. "I jest. Really brother you two do well together. Asgardians will thrive with her by your side at the throne."

"What? No plans to rule yourself?"

Loki faltered in step as Thor pushed him. "I wouldn't mind but Alicia wants a simple life as possible."

"I heard her say she sees you as Loki. No titles. Although. People say she lies, she wants your wealth and the attention the comes with royalty." 

Loki could not help but laugh. "She refuses to call me anything besides my name, gets into a big fuss when I gift her things. As you have seen she hates the media attention and waves the reporters away." Loki shook his head, "gossip is very terrible on Midgard. Not even based on facts and spreads as quick as Hel's fire on dried grass."

Thor chuckled quietly, "you are right about something, brother."

Loki rolled his eyes, "you act as though I'm not capable of coming up with well thought out plans-."

"Tricks."

Loki wanted to hit that smug look off of his brother's face. Then smirked, "Must I get my Lady to remind you it takes a sharp mind and skill to use those tricks?"

It was as if Loki was seeing Thor going through all of the times Alicia stabbed him with her wit. "She is a very fierce one.. I can only imagine how our parents would have liked her."

"Odin would lock her away." Loki felt his nails digging into his fist and wanted Alicia's gentle touch with a face full of calm affection.

"Mother would love her. I'm sure. You were her favorite." Thor continued after Loki gave Thor a look of disbelief, "it showed in the way she would try to get you out of trouble you caused." Thor clapped Loki's shoulder, "Both mother and father would approve of who you are now, loving her in an extension of you."

Loki watched his love as she was approached by a group of young children and their parents. Alicia got down to hug each one of them. The children took turns hugging the three women walking together. Loki stood behind her, "love.. did you get another dress dirty?"

Alicia turned to face him with a toddler in her grasp, "oh Loki. It will wash out." She was smiling widely until the little one pulled her hair. She muttered an ow and Loki laughed but moved to untangle the little fingers. "She has a strong grip" Alicia's laughter turned into more quick mutterings of pain as the other hand held more hair.

"I am so sorry! She really loves to hold things" the mother scrambled to help Loki with the little girls hands. Once Loki got her fingers untangled the little hand curled around his finger and she babbled at him. Alicia held the other hand and smiled at Loki. 

The mother spoke quietly, "She likes both of you. Especially you Prince Loki."

Alicia grinned, "she has good taste."

Alicia shivered as a vision was about to come true. Loki's worried eyes were on her when they made eye contact. Alicia heard a sound she dreaded. An object whistling, moving through the air so fast due to the thrusters attached. 

[yastaghr]

Our Skeleton 26

New chapter of Our Skeleton! You can find it here:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/7563223/chapters/44553028

Or below the cut:

A messy room is lit by the light of sunrise coming from the huge glass window. There are a desk, chair, and bookcase. All of them are made of dark-stained wood. The rug laid out on the hardwood floor is in shades of red that spiraled ever lighter into the center of the oval. It would be easier to see it if there wasn’t a mess of papers, pencils, and bones on it. The bones were the most organized of the bunch. They made up a small skeleton lazing in shorts and a t-shirt.

Sans kicked his feet absently as he scribbled on the sheet of paper. He was working on yet another application to perform at yet another comedy club. You wouldn’t think there were so many places in a city this size. You would be wrong.

You might also be forgiven for thinking that at least one of these clubs would be willing to give him a try. With so many, statistically speaking, one should have let him in by now. They hadn’t. Most of them hadn’t even bothered to send him a rejection letter. It felt horrible. If he really was that bad at jokes, what else could he do? He didn’t have the formal training to be an astronomer. His sewing was mediocre at best. He couldn’t cook or bake, and his art was dismal. What could he do?

Soft footsteps broke the quiet of the room. Asgore, tall and impressive despite the rubber ducky pjs he was wearing, shuffled in. He was carrying two mugs of fresh oolong tea in his hands. Asgore was a fan of the taste of this blend. He much preferred it to green or black tea.

“Here, Sans. I brought you a fresh cup of tea. Can you take a break to drink it?”

Sans sighed. He set down his pencil and pushed himself up on his arms so he could kneel and sit back on his feet.

“i might as well. it’s not like i’m going to get anywhere with these.”

“Don’t say that,” Asgore quickly chided, “I’m sure one of these will give you the chance you need. You just have to give it a try!”

Sans shot him a tired look.

“gorey, i’ve sent in 32 different applications so far. 32. i haven’t even gotten that many rejection letters. my apps weren’t even good enough to get that far. nothing i do is going to get me to make it. no one wants my sad attempts at humor at their club. i’m that bad.”

Asgore folded his legs and settled into a tailor’s seat; his legs crossed underneath him. He held out the mug for Sans to take, and Sans took it.

Asgore paused just long enough to decide how to address this. Then he said, “Sans...you’re not bad. Your shows in the Underground were usually sold out. People came from all over the Underground to see you perform. I just think you don’t have enough...well, like a following, only with the people in charge. What’s that called? Oh! Having a name, right? You don’t have enough of a name for yourself yet.”

Sans sighed, looking down. “i know. but i can’t get that until someone gives me a chance.’

“Why don’t you go to one of these open mic things? Roger and his husband went to one the other day. They say anyone is allowed to go up to the mic and perform a bit. A song, a poem, a short set - all kinds of things. You don’t get paid for it, but at least you can get your name out a bit,” Asgore said encouragingly.

Sans looked uncertain. “i don’t know...what if nobody likes me? how do i pick what to say? what if i don’t even get a chance to perform?”

Asgore patted him soothingly. “You won’t be alone. Toriel and I will come to with you of course. I suspect that Papyrus and Grillby will come too. If there are any other monsters there, they will no doubt feel lucky to get to see a skit from you for free. As for the picking, I’m sure the right set will come to you at the right time. And if you don’t get to perform then we can just try again at another show. How does that sound?”

Sans fiddled with his fingers. He didn’t look convinced. He looked up at Asgore’s face, searching for something that Asgore couldn’t guess. He apparently found it, because he nodded slowly.

“we can do that. i don’t know if it’ll help much, but we can give it a try.”

Asgore smiled hugely. He was proud of Sans for being willing to try.

“...and that’s when i said, “that’s snow problem with me!”.”

A huge plume of laughter filled the room. It bounced off the walls and ceiling of the comedy club. The room was just about jam packed. Maybe 2/3 of the people were monsters, and there were so many of them that they were pressed together in one solid mass. They had gotten a mass email from their King kindly announcing that Sans would try to get a slot on that evening’s open mic. The rest were human. Apart from one human, everyone was laughing.

That one human was sitting there with a slack jaw and wide, glazed eyes. Every so often they would turn their head to see all the people who were jam packed in the club. That human’s stunned face was priceless.

Sans took a bow next to the mic. Thunderous applause expanded into every corner of the room and beyond. It could even be heard in the craft store two doors down. The older ladies, exhausted parents, and excited young people paused in what they were doing to listen to it. What was so amazing that it produced that much applause? They’d probably never know, but that wouldn’t stop them from thinking about it.

Once the applause had settled down and Sans had relinquished the mic to the next hopeful performer Sans wandered over to his table with Asgore, Toriel, Papyrus, Grillby, and Frisk. He sat down and was immediately picked back up again by Papyrus in a safe, warm hug.

“BROTHER I CANNOT BELIEVE HOW GOOD YOUR SHOW WAS TONIGHT! EVEN IF THERE WERE...TOO MANY PUNS...THEY WERE NOT OVERPOWERING! WELL DONE!”

Frisk clapped happily and excitedly, showing how much they liked the show in the best way possible. Grillby’s flames were dancing quickly, and he reached out and took Sans’ free hand, bathing it in soothing warmth.

“.....I am so proud of you…..well done.”

When Papyrus had finally put Sans down, Asgore and Toriel were free to scoop him up between them. They each planted a kiss on either side of his skull. Sans turned completely blue and made a little mrerring noise.

The scene was interrupted by ** a human. They were the human who had been so shocked during Sans’ performance. They were wearing a green button-up with blue jeans, leather boots, and a belt that looked handmade. Cream-colored cat hair covered every inch of their body. Their hair was black and their eyes were, too. Their skin was reddish brown, not all that dark, but not light, either. They had a linear scar going from just left of the center of their forehead and down at an angle to their right ear.

“Excuse me, but...um, I’m the owner of this club, and that was an amazing set. Spectacular, really. And I was wondering...I’m sure you’ve got a couple of gigs, but...would you maybe...come perform here? I’ve got a couple of nights open, so anything that works with your schedule we can do.”

Toriel calmly set a confused Sans down on the floor. His head was tilted almost 45 degrees.

“i mean yes, of course? i don’t have any gigs yet. i’ve sent in a bunch of applications, but none have worked out. i’ve sent in one here, too, a few weeks back. same set, even. didn’t you get it?” Sans asked.

The human smacked their head and apologized, “I’m sorry, I’m sure we did, but last week there was this little white dog that broke in. It shredded all the applications for several months. We’ve been sending out requests for everyone who applied to do so again, but not every name survived, and...why are you laughing?”

Sans was, in fact, doubled over and was practically crying with how much he was laughing. Tori and Asgore were giggling too, although Asgore’s laugh was a little deeper. Grillby looked confused and Frisk looked annoyed. It was Papyrus who had enough breath to explain, “THAT MEDDLING DOG IS ALWAYS CAUSING TROUBLE FOR US. HE STEALS BONES, EATS ARTIFACTS, AND FOLLOWS US EVERYWHERE. HE’S...ANNOYING! ANNOYING! ANNOYING!”

The last three word were punctuated with hard pounds on the table. None of the monsters seemed impressed, but the humans were certainly giving them looks.

Sans wiped away the tears of his laughter and stood up. “i’ll definitely take the gig, bud. what days do you have open?”

[nicaraguamissionstories]

ONE  YEAR  LATER . . .

Turbulent waters and restless clouds…but the Sun still beacons onward.

Wednesday, April 10th 2019

To apologize for this lapse of time since I last communicated seems so preposterous. How do I explain a year’s absence? Despite the absurdity of it, I am picking up what is left of my dignity and writing to you once again.

When last we met, I was in a whirlwind after political unrest here in Nicaragua created a deep vacuum in which many of us fell into. In the middle of the attempt to overthrow the government, I tried to stick it out in La Cruz as long as I could, visiting 8 more communities. But with all the road blocks in the country, we were unable to receive any provisions in La Cruz. Soon there was no corn or rice or beans. I had friends who arranged for my transportation back to Estelí the end of May.  It was a harrowing experience sitting at roadblocks for hours or trying to cross on foot to the other side where I waited several hours for a different transportation.

Crossing the road block on foot in Rio Blanco where tires have been burned in the road. Graffiti on the side of the parked truck says “To Hell with Daniel”, referring to the president of Nicaragua.

By the end of May I was back in Estelí by way of back roads and remote routes. The problem once I arrived is that we were prohibited from traveling because of the road blocks and the fact that things were very unsafe. There were more food resources in Estelí but they were quickly evaporating without any new trucks allowed to enter. The trucks with food were detained at the road blocks only to lose all their produce and other perishable products. In the community where I live (only a mile from the south road block) we heard the gun fire back and forth all day and night, and then heard the daily reports of cocktail bombs, captures and killings the following day. All we could do was stay in our homes and venture out quickly in the morning to look for food. All foreigners evacuated immediately. All I could think was – how convenient to have that as an option when those who live on the margins don’t have such solutions.

I guess I became numb to a certain degree. Just going through daily survival and not feeling capable of even updating the Blog. I was thinking in circles and wondering if the end of the road had finally come for me here in Nicaragua. Our phone signal was limited and I didn’t have the speed to upload pictures to the Blog so I continued to fall further and further behind. Not to mention feeling useless as time marched on and this BIG work was still unfinished.

Finally in late November (six months ago) things felt stable enough to return to the coast and wrap up the final three community visits. Riding a wave of depression and discouragement, I picked myself up again and gave it another try, visiting the Miskito communities of Kara and Sandy Bay. Father Tomas, Sister Lydia and my faithful friend Vicente accompanied me there.

On our way to Kara, we ran out of oil for the motor. We waited at the side of the riverbank (our arms wrapped around a tree truck to keep from floating onward) for two and a half hours in our panga until finally we were rescued by one of the boats coming from Bluefields who sold us some oil.

This Indigenous community in Kara was so impressive to me. They received us with such warmth and love. The mass was celebrated in Spanish, Miskito and even a little English.

We had an ultimate Closing Mass after the visit to Kara in La Cruz, but it felt anti climatic after the expectations I created around the work at the beginning of April. Once again I left for Estelí feeling discouraged and aimless now that I had finally finished the visits.

Returning in December I avoided working on the Blog and anything related to the work on the book. Instead I buried myself in other projects – a scholarship group retreat, a visit from the cardiologists from North Carolina and other work that trickled in. The months clicked by and I continued to procrastinate. I had come to a crossroads of “Now What?” and had no idea how to move forward. So why bother with the finishing pieces if I didn’t know how to proceed afterwards? I knew I was in trouble when those who had provided the grant to do the work began asking where my final report was. I didn’t know how to explain how lost I was or how the ball had rolled out of control. All my momentum was gone. I cried out to Teddy blaming him for having chosen a person so inadequate to face such a grand feat.

A statue of Father Teddy made by the people. It was created for the local high school named after him in the community of La Cruz.

Over the past four months, people, groups and donors have begun to return to Nicaragua with a tone of dipping their toe in the water to see if things are really as bad as the media reports in the states. Fortunately, the visits have been without disturbance and people have left with a sense of wanting to reconnect with their projects and the people they serve. I suppose that renewed hope has awakened in me too – somewhat – concerning moving forward with this work at hand.

In March I was able to consult with an editor in New Mexico who felt she could guide me to a place of organizing the book. Her name is Carolyn Flynn and I met her through the Living School Program with the Center for Action and Contemplation. Her email to me summed up what she hopes to do: “…we will develop the essence of what makes the book captivating…create a title and subtitle…and organize the structure of the book. To get there, we'd work on chapters and I’ll guide you in seeing where in your writing you have really got everything working, in terms of your voice, your images, the most important spiritual lessons and insights.”  We plan to begin our endeavor in early July. Until then, she sent me “homework” assignments to get me ready for that junction.

Towards that purpose the cost would be $750 which she says will definitely get me on my way. So somehow I will try to raise that amount. Upon the completion of that phase, she will help me evaluate which direction to go and even make some connections with publishers. It is a big project to say the least, but I am willing to make some baby steps toward that end, despite the inadequacy I feel. If you are interested in contributing to this work, you can send your personal check to: Connecticut Quest for Peace, Inc. and on the memo line write “for Monica”. Then send the check to the attention of:

CT Quest for Peace 

Attn:  Jane McCaffrey 

P.O Box 356 

Georgetown, CT  06829

 On Saturday, April 6th I celebrated 56 years of age…now 20 years in Nicaragua. Our political situation remains relatively calm but uncertain. To be honest, I don’t have a sense of my inner barometer about which road I am on. I guess I am like the country right now, relatively calm but uncertain.

A hopeful visit will come in the form of Eileen “Chuckie” Niehaus – Teddy’s “baby sister” (as he once called her) – who will arrive God willing on April 26th. We will make a journey back to Kara to once again reconnect with the Miskito people. It was a plan that she and Teddy had that never was able to be realized. I hope the seed within will once again be watered and fertilized to continue its growth towards the fruition of this project. Your prayers and good wishes – as always – will help that become a reality.

Right now my plan would be to continue with the blog updating monthly with things such as this upcoming trip with Chuckie and other outstanding pieces of homework I still have like visiting one of the priests Teddy formed from La Cruz, Father Flavio. I also want people to be able to track what the experience of writing a book is like (at least from my perspective). So you are welcome to come along for the ride if you still want to take a chance on me!

Thank you for extending your patience to me for the fragility around my edges and for leading with compassion and mercy – since that is what we are all most desperately in need of.  Today it is raining in Estelí for the first time in six months…bringing healing to the plants, the people, the animals and all that is connected in this Divine Dance.

Here I am at 56 headed off to the gym with my friend Sonia. A friend who is real jokster with me asked me how old I was and I told him.  He responded “you don’t look that age”...I thanked him and then he added “YOU LOOK MORE LIKE 65!!”  There always has to be a fool in our midst to keep us on track.

[chibinekochan]

Saving grace

Jumin x Fem. Reader

You met him years ago at a party but he doesn't remember you at all.

Then suddenly Jumin gets targeted by an assassin. You save him but you are not unharmed.

Words: ~ 2.5k

Triggers for blood.

Notes: I read a similar scenario in a manga and I felt like it would be a perfect match for Jumin. I’m not sure yet if I finish this one off it depends on my mood.

It is a business party like many others. Jumin has lost count a long time ago.

He is holding on to a glass of champagne, it's not his taste at all. He would rather have some red wine, in the company of his beloved Elizabeth the 3rd.

Jumin sighs slightly.

“You are Jumin Han right?”

A woman with a huge smile stands in front of him, interrupting Jumin's thoughts.

This woman surely wants something from him, they always do.

“That is correct. How can I help you?”

“You don't recognize me… I guess it's only natural.”

You sound quite disappointed.

“I apologize. I just meet a lot of people Miss ?”

Jumin doesn't mean to be impolite. He tries to remember her name but it's useless. Jumin is sure that he not seen anyone with a natural smile like this in a very long time. He surely would remember that.

“I kinda had a feeling that you wouldn't remember me. We barely talked back then.”

You still look sad to Jumin.

He still tries to remember but it was too many parties. He just can't place you anywhere.

“I see it might help if I know your name or at least why you are here.”

“It's (Y/N) and I'm working at a winery.”

“A pleasure to meet you, sadly I still can't recall the first time we met.”

You look still sad, like hearing your name would ring a bell.

Sadly it doesn't.

“That's fine... I was rather plain back then. It's no surprise that you can't remember…”

Jumin really can't imagine that you been ever so plain that he would forget your smile. He doesn't like the fact that his words hurt you.

“Is the champagne here is from your winery?”

Jumin just tries to make you less uncomfortable. He also hopes that every little information about you will help his memories.

“Oh no, this champagne is mass-produced. We still make our wine the old way. I could give you a bottle if you want. I think you are a guy who prefers red wine. Am I right ?”

You almost look disgusted at the champagne that Jumin holds.

“You are right but then again that's easy to look up and you might still remember it.”

“Last time we met you couldn't even drink but you really haven't changed at all.”

You giggle slightly at the memory.

Jumin wishes he would know what you find so funny but at least you are smiling again.

“It seems a bit wrong to take a gift. I should be gifting you something since I don't remember you.”

“It would be a great gift if you try our wine and like it. I know you will.”

“You are really sure of your product then.”

Jumin can see that you use your chance to market your product. He doesn't mind it at all, at least you are honest about it. Some good wine doesn't sound bad to him anyways.

“Of course, it's the best wine I ever had. Let me get you a bottle from my car.”

“Sure but let me come with you. It's already dark outside.”

“You are a true gentleman Jumin.”

You smile again at Jumin and together you head outside and towards your car.

Suddenly you see a strange light at a nearby roof and out of some instinct you push Jumin and before he can even react there is a bang.

A hot pain comes from your shoulder and you see Jumin's shocked face. You see blood is splattered over Jumin's suit.

Your legs give out and everything becomes black. You can only hear Jumin yelling your name.

You regain your consciousness at an unfamiliar place. You feel drowsy and your shoulder hurts but you seem fine. You check your shoulder and it's bandaged.

You try to get up but you are too wobbly.

It doesn't look like a hospital, more like a hotel room or an apartment.

Before you start to panic Jumin comes into the room.

“(Y/N) how are you feeling? If you have pain, the doctor left you painkillers.”

“It hurts a little… but what happened and where am I?��

“Someone tried to shoot me but you pushed me out of the way. Sadly you got injured instead of me. I was worried that they try it again so I brought you in my penthouse for now. My personal doctor treated your wound. That is why you are here now.”

“I see so you aren't hurt?”

“I'm fine but that was really stupid of you. You could die. It was my security's teams job to protect me and not yours.”

Jumin is really angry about this and fired them all on the spot.

“I see so that's what happened... I just saw this flash of light and my body just reacted. I'm glad that you are okay.”

“You should rest now.”

“I'm thankful that you take care of me but can't I just go home?”

“I'm sorry but they might try to kill you. You saved my life and it's only natural that they assume that you are close to me. My security team is quite small right now and they have no idea who it was. Until everything is solved, I'd like you to stay here.”

“I see you really thought about this. If you say it's the best then I will trust you. I will have to tell the winery and my father. He is probably worried.”

“Of course. You can use the phone in this room for everything you need. You can call the number on the phone to get whatever you need starting by food. This penthouse is no prison so feel yourself at home as long as you are my guest.”

“Okay... might be a strange question but where will you sleep?”

“This penthouse is quite big this is actually a guest room. I should call the doctor to check you again. Oh and one more thing I have a cat. Her name is Elizabeth the 3rd.”

“Ah good, I'd feel bad to steal your bed. I love cats so it’s not a problem.”

“Good then. I'm in my office in case you need anything, please don't wander around until the doctor gives you his okay.”

“Alright Jumin, oh can I call you Jumin? Since you don't recognize me…”

“It's alright, I don't mind if you call me Jumin. I might not remember offering it to you but I still won't go back on my word.”

“You really haven't changed at all. I will do as you say.”

You smile again like you remember something. Jumin really wishes he could see those memories.

“Alright then. I assume I can call you (Y/N).”

“Of course. I don't go back on my word either. I will still get you your wine. I will call someone to send you a bottle.”

“You really don't need to that but I look forward to it.”

Jumin is asking himself if the wine is really as good as your proud smile promises.

“Great. I will do that after the doctor is done.”

“Take your time (Y/N). I will leave you alone now.”

“OK just don't work too hard. It must have been a long night for you.”

“There is no need to worry about me. I need really little sleep. I will rest later after my work is done.”

“Don't tell me you didn't sleep last night?”

“I couldn't sleep. I was really busy.”

“That is really not good for your health Jumin.”

“Are you honestly lecturing me?”

“No, I'm just worried about you.”

“You shouldn't worry about me (Y/N). Please just get some rest.”

Jumin leaves the room and goes to his office. Elizabeth the 3rd is sitting in his chair and is looking curious at Jumin.

“There you are. I hope you don't mind our guest too much. I'm sure she won't stay long.”

Elizabeth mews and leaves the chair, like she knows that Jumin needs it.

“Thank you, Elizabeth the 3rd. You are kind as always.”

Jumin pets her gently and she meows happily.

Then Jumin's phone rings.

“Such a shame, our time gets cut short once again.”

You wonder if your words upset Jumin. Maybe you are bothering him too much.

You sigh slightly and take your medicine.

A while after this the doctor comes to check on you.

Everything seems good but you will need some treatment, maybe some physiotherapy. The doctor tells you that you can stand up when you stop being light headed.

You agree and the doctor leaves again.

At this point, you feel already a bit better and you feel a bit hungry too. You think this is a great time to explore the penthouse.

You make a few careful steps and you are fine enough to walk.

The penthouse is quite big. You are in the living room when you see a cat on the sofa.

She looks at you and seems to tolerate your existence.

“You must be Elizabeth the 3rd. I'm pleased to meet you.”

Maybe it's a bit stupid of you to greet a cat but she is really cute.

Elizabeth keeps an eye on you, you feel like she is judging your existence.

“I wish I could ask you where the kitchen is…”

You sigh slightly and look around.

Elizabeth meows and you decide to go in a promising direction.

You really manage to find the kitchen but it seems like it only contains the bare minimum.

You hear a familiar meow and find that Elizabeth has followed you.

“Hey there, say do you know if Jumin likes sandwiches?”

Elizabeth just looks curious at you.

“You are right, that was a stupid question…”

You just turn back around and make some for both of you.

You have no idea if Jumin fed Elizabeth already, but you don't want to overfeed her. Even when it seems like she aspects you to give her food.

You take the plate and head to the office.

You knock carefully on the door.

“Come in.”

You open the door.

“I made us sandwiches. I was hungry and I know you had nothing yet so…”

“You know that you only need to call if you need anything.”

“I know but I felt so useless and it's only a sandwich. Oh, I met Elizabeth the 3rd and have you fed her yet?”

“Of course I did. Did she looked hungry to you?”

“No, I was just curious since she followed me.”

“She must be curious about you. Ah, there you are Elizabeth the 3rd. You have shown our guest around I see.”

Elizabeth has followed you into the office and is now looking at Jumin like she is proud.

“Now I see what happened. Well, in that case, thank you Elizabeth the 3rd.”

You smile at the cat and Jumin seems happy for some reason.

“Should I just leave the Sandwich here?”

“No, we should eat in the kitchen. A little break won't harm me.”

“You are right with that Jumin.”

You both head to the kitchen and Jumin makes you both some coffee.

“This Sandwich is really good. I never had this before.”

“I don't think it's anything special. I'd cook for you but with my shoulder, it's kinda hard.”

“You are my guest and if anything I should cook for you.”

“You can cook?”

“Well a bit, but more importantly I can pay someone to cook for me.”

“I think it's tasting the best if someone special makes it for you.”

“I wonder how you come to that conclusion.”

“That's because I usually cook but whenever my father cooks, it tastes the best.”

“Interesting, sadly I doubt that my father would cook for me.”

“I could do it once my shoulder is better but it probably wouldn't make a difference to you.”

“Because you are not that good or because you are not special to me?”

“Maybe both.”

“The Sandwich is definitely good. The best I ever had.”

“Isn't it the first you ever had?”

You giggle.

“You are right with that but it doesn't change the fact. Actually, I feel better now after eating.”

“You really needed a break then I'm glad. I was kinda worried that I'd bother you.”

“If you would I'd tell you.”

“You are a really honest man.”

“Some people would call that cruel.”

“Because you say how it is? I guess that can be quite cruel depending on how you word it.”

“I see your point. I really should go back to work now but I enjoyed my break.”

“Alright don't work too hard. You need to get some rest.”

“You are lecturing me again.”

“No, I just care about you.”

“I really don't understand why you do.”

“I think that's because you don't recognize me.”

“Maybe, I will probably recall you. I will go back to my office now. Please feel free to use the TV or the laptop in your room. You can do what you want as long as you stay here.”

“Alright I will find something to keep me busy and I won't go outside. I have no interest in getting shot.”

“That is wise of you.”

Jumin returns to his office but he keeps thinking about your words.

How much would he like to remember you? How long ago did you meet?

It was too many parties and the night without sleep didn't help.

He feels a headache coming up.

Jumin did the work that needed to be done at least.

He takes your suggestion and takes a break in the living room.

You are there watching TV. Jumin doesn't know the show but he sits down anyways.

“Hello Jumin, good to see you again. It's quite late. Have you been working all day?”

“Hello (Y/N), I'm done for today. I hope you don't mind if I join you.”

“Of course not, is there anything you want to watch?”

“Not really, I will just watch whatever this is. I called the cook earlier by the way we should have dinner soon.”

“Great I just got the bottle of wine for you. We can have it for dinner. I just hope it fits our meal.”

“I thought that might be the case.”

“You are really prepared for everything.”

“I certainly wasn't prepared for you.”

You laugh.

“Yeah that's true, honestly I never thought I'd meet you again but I'm glad I did.”

“You got hurt because of me. I wouldn't call that good.”

“It wasn't your fault. I'm glad that you are alive.”

Jumin has no idea what to say to this.

He just sits on the couch with you, with some distance between you and stares at the moving pictures.

It's not really interesting him but he feels strangely relaxed. Maybe it's because of you but he doesn't really have a headache anymore.

Jumin finds this really strange, usually, only Elizabeth the 3rd manages that.

Jumin feels really tired and he closes his eyes just a moment. Sleep takes over just a moment later.

He sees something in his dream.

A girl with a smile much like yours. Was that a memory or just something he had seen on the TV.

He isn't sure and sadly he gets woken by the sound of the doorbell.

You got up to get it but it's too late. Jumin woke up. You wanted him to get rest but sadly the dinner interrupts that.

Jumin doesn't really mind that, he is more amazed that he just passed out for a bit. Your presence must be really relaxing to him.

[bffhreprise]

Entry 341

 My eyes widened as a silver car pulled in front of me, into my family’s driveway.  I knew that car.  I jogged a little to hurry after, only to see James and Mila step out of his car.  “James!  Mila!?  Is something wrong?” I asked, feeling anxious.  I hadn’t even figured out how to explain to my parents that I’d like to go to France with the company I had barely worked at for six weeks.  Now there was my boss, the literal wizard, standing in my driveway and looking like a model.  When he shook his head, I asked “then why are you…”

 He quickly interrupted me, saying, “I was going to wait for you to arrive at my home, but I was informed that you wouldn't have time to stop by today.  Sorry for the intrusion, but I thought this was a good opportunity to meet your parents, if you don't mind.”  As I stood there attempting to process what he had said, he told me “First off, I have something to give you.”  He handed over what looked to be one of the company’s enhancement suits, much to my surprise.  “You're only allowed to wear this while working for me, at my home, or in route to or from a job.  You'll also be expected to wear this during our trip to France, since you don't seem prepared to taze someone with your magic.”

 “Taze someone?  Are you expecting trouble?” I asked, alarmed by the idea.

 His amused smile answered my question even before he said, “No, but I would like to be prepared just in case.”  His face became more serious as he continued, saying, “I don't imagine everyone will be with me at all times.  My wife might well want to get me alone at some point, and by now I'm sure you're well aware that some of our friends can be a bit flirtatious.”

 I nodded my agreement, knowing that easily could easily give guys the wrong impression, and not all guys took that well.  “That's for sure.”

 Smiling once more, he explained “Groups may well be split up at times.  If you ever find yourself alone, I would like you to feel safe still.  You will, of course, be able to contact me if needed at any time.  Next time you visit the mansion, be sure to stop by Jarod’s lab for a phone upgrade.”

 “Phone upgrade?” I questioned, not really feeling there was anything wrong with my phone.  Of course, my standards weren’t up to the company’s yet.

 “Yes.  As I'm sure you've noticed, we have certain technologies available to us that aren't mass-produced for the world yet.” he stated as he motioned to the suit in my arms.  “Though altering the hardware will void any warranty you have, I promise that your phone will have increased performance.  Furthermore, your phone will be able to connect with my network if ever you decide to switch plans, which I highly recommend.”

 “Umm… Okay.  I'll have to talk with my dad about it.” I assured him, not even doubting a word of it at this point.

 Hearing the front door open, I looked over to see Mick watching us.

 “Iris, you okay?” he questioned, looking more interested than concerned.  His eyes darted between the car and James.

 I nodded as I told him, “Mick, this is my boss, James, and Mila, his umm...”

 “Maid.” she answered for me.

 Mick glanced over his shoulder to make sure the rest of our family didn’t see him before he quietly closed it and approached us.  “You're the one who told my sister to warn me not to play our games as much?” he questioned in a whisper, remembering the warning I gave him about James’ confidentiality agreements.  He did not want to see that thing.

 “Yes.  She did explain why, didn't she?” questioned James with a polite smile.

 Mick nodded and then asked “Is it true that you can… You know…”  He was definitely alluding to what I mentioned of James being a wizard.

 “I'm certain you would be amazed, but this is neither the time nor the place.  Why don't you stop by the mansion with your sister when you have time?” suggested James.

 Mick looked at me as if to question whether that was really a good idea.  I shrugged, knowing he probably couldn’t handle that place any better than I could, though I was gradually feeling more comfortable with the craziness.  Part of me wondered if that was really a good thing.

 “Today I'm here to discuss the company trip with your parents, assuming they happened to be home.” announced James after giving us a brief moment to our thoughts.

 “Company trip?  Where are you going?” asked Mick in surprise.

 I hadn’t gotten around to even seeking help from my brothers yet.

 “France.  We'll be attending a concert as well as general tourist sites throughout the country.” explained James, as if a trip out of the country was as normal as crossing a street.

 “Wow.  Iris, have you told dad that you'll need a passport?” questioned Mick in surprise.  He seemed to think Dad would be fine with the trip.

 “I have already taken the liberty to acquire passports for everyone needing them.” asserted Mila with a small smile.

 My poor brother’s eyes barely touched her before averting again.  Mila was way too pretty.  “Whoa.” he whispered.  “Sorry.  Maids don't just clean things?”

 “Mila's a special case and a good friend.  I don't know what I would do without her.” insisted James with a loving glance at his AI companion.  “Are your parents home?”

 “Oh.  Yeah.  Sorry.  This way.” replied Mick as he turned to head to the door.  Once inside, he called out, saying, “Hey, Mom, we have a guest.”

 “Coming!” she called.

 “Would you like a drink?” questioned Mick, actually remembering his manners.

 “Sure.  Orange juice.” I told him with a grin.  Who could resist picking on their siblings?

 “I'll take some as well.” stated James as Mick eyed me like he wanted to throw down.

 “Mila, right?” asked Mick as he did his best to keep his eyes on her.  When she nodded, he inquired “Want anything?”

 “No, thank you.” she replied with a smile that made him blush slightly.

 “Who's here?” called Mike as Mick left the room.

 “Iris’ boss.  Go find dad.” replied Mick.

 I could picture Mike socking Mick on the shoulder for ordering him around, so I said, “Sorry if my brothers get rowdy while you’re here.”

 James laughed as he followed me to the living room.  “If they can be more rowdy than our mutual friends, I will be quite impressed.”

 “Yeah… You have a point.” I acknowledged, having seen the superhuman feats of my coworkers.  “Am I allowed to tell them about Mila, or would you prefer that I didn't?”

 “I don't mind either way.” replied Mila, watching me as if to see my decision.

 “They probably wouldn't believe me, so I guess it's not a big deal.” I admitted, knowing good and well that I wouldn’t have believed them either if one of them came back with such a crazy story.

 James, Mila, and I took a seat.  When I was young, my house had always seemed like a pretty normal home, though I eventually was warned that others couldn’t do the things we could.  As I grew older, I realized that our house was actually large and generally nicer than most.  After meeting James, I actually was noticing the crumbs near the cup holders of our couch.  One of my brothers had left his socks in the room.  There was a bit of wear on Dad’s spot.  If James noticed, he didn’t say a thing.  More than likely, he noticed...

 When Mom entered the room, James stood to greet her.   “Mrs. Storm, please pardon my intrusion, but there is business which I would like to discuss with you and your husband.  I am James Michael Somerset III, Iris’ boss.”

 “Welcome to our home, Mr. Somerset.” she replied, shaking his hand and staring up at him.

 “James, please.” he insisted.

 Mom smiled and told him, “Call me Mirabella.  Pleasure to meet you, James.  Iris has been strangely tight-lipped about you, but my husband is excited to have new blood joining his baseball league.”

 “We at Best Friend For Hire appreciate the opportunity.” he told her, seeming perfectly sincere.  He knew his company couldn’t lose.  There was no way.  Compared to my coworkers, my family were very, very average people.

 “Have you started practicing yet?” questioned Mom with interest.  She usually attended the games.

 Before James could answer, Matt came running into the room, saying, “Mom, you're not going to believe this, but there's a talking car out front.”

 “Sorry if I startled you, Matt, but I prefer that the master’s personal transportation goes untouched without his permission.” replied Mila, bowing her head slightly in apology.

 Matt outright pointed at her as he exclaimed “You sound just like the car!”

 She smiled and nodded, not at all disturbed by my brother’s behavior.

 Suddenly confused, he said, “Wait.  How did you know that…”

 “Matt, behave!” snapped Mom.  “This is James, Iris’ boss.”

 He clearly wanted to argue that what he was saying was more important, but he knew Mom’s tone.  “Sorry.” he apologized after a deep, slow breath to calm down.

 “No need to apologize.” insisted James.  “My DB5 has had some considerable upgrades, and few wouldn't be surprised by her.” he acknowledged before turning to look at Mila.  “Mila would you mind showing Matt the car?  Mike would probably be interested as well if you catch him in the hall.”  How he knew which of my brothers was in the hall had to be a wizard thing.

 “As you wish, Master.” she replied, standing and approaching my brother.

 “Can I?” Matt asked Mom with obvious excitement.  No, there weren’t many secrets kept in this household.

 “Just be careful.” she told him, obviously not wanting my brothers to damage anything.  By now, she had probably noticed the quality of James’ clothes, his perfect nails, and maybe even that his shoes looked perfectly new.

 “Sorry about my brothers.” I told him once Matt was out of the room.

 “She says that even though Kayla nearly ran into her when she came for an interview.” teased James, speaking to Mom.

 “Kayla's ten.  My brothers are older than me!” I argued, feeling a little embarrassed.  His version of the story left out how Kayla ran like an Olympic sprinter, appearing almost out of nowhere after rounding the corner.

 James just shrugged and said, “Still, things happen.”

 “Who is Kayla?” questioned Mom.

 “She's the sister of an employee who lives at my company headquarters.” he explained.  “Many of my employees live there, since we have exceptional accommodations.”

 “He's understating them dramatically.  I really can't explain.” I insisted, not even knowing where to begin with the outlandish luxury of Somerset Estate.

 Dad stepped into the room before we could argue more, asking “Explain what?”

 “How incredible Best Friend For Hire's headquarters is.” stated Mom with a meaningful look to Dad.  “This is Iris’ boss, James.  James, this is my husband, Grayson.”

 James shook Dad’s hand and said, “Meeting you is a pleasure, sir.  Thank you for inviting my company to join your baseball league.  I do feel obligated to warn you that most of my company is young and highly athletic.”

 “Iris has mentioned that you do martial arts training each morning.  What's the reason for it?” questioned Dad, possibly out of curiosity.  He was probably in his “assessment phase” of meeting someone.  He often spoke about how important that was.

 “In addition to being a good general fitness program, I like the idea that all of my employees will be able to protect themselves in case a client becomes less than pleasant.” replied James.  “We do, of course, screen our clients before pairing them with any given best friend, so there has yet to be a serious incident.”

 “I'm glad to hear you're cautious, given your unusual line of work.  The company doing okay?” questioned Dad, making me roll my eyes

 James merely nodded and said, “We're still expanding, and our profits are quite substantial.  Just this past winter, I added a hotel chain to the company's assets.  We also have close ties with Global Princess Entertainment and the Intergalactic House of Awesome Sauce, given that I'm a primary shareholder in each.”

 Dad’s surprise was obvious.  He probably hadn’t gotten around to looking into my new job, thinking of it as another startup doomed to fail.  He said, “Wow.  Impressive.  That restaurant chain is something else.  We've eaten there a couple times.”

 If I had known James was involved in the Intergalactic House of Awesome Sauce when I met him, I wouldn’t have been at all surprised about the wealth.  That restaurant was incredibly expensive, and hosted the best food I had ever eaten, possibly excluding Marco’s.

 “You should see James’ chef in action.” I asserted.  “That guy's amazing too.”

 James smiled at me before looking to Dad and saying, “My wife assures me that Marco is one of the best chefs in the world.  As head of the Pendreigh Group, she's done enough traveling for me to take her word.”

 “The Pendreigh Group!?” asked Dad in surprise.  Had he mentioned them before?

 “Yes.  Heard of them?” questioned James, though he didn’t really sound surprised.

 Nodding, Dad said, “They've been buying up companies all over the city, so I did a bit of research a while back.  You say your wife runs it!?”

 “Yes.  She also manages her father's estates.  He's the Duke of Caerllion in Wales.” explained James, letting the bomb of a name drop out with his typical easy manner.

 Dad nodded and took a seat, looking at James with much more interest than he had shown when I mentioned where I had been hired.  No, he hadn’t looked into my job yet, but I was certain he would now.

 James eventually got around to bringing up our trip to France, assuring my parents that every detail was being planned for the general safety of all participants.  Surprisingly, neither of my parents had many questions about it, just listening to the general itinerary with interest before moving back to the topic of James’ company.

 As I listened, I couldn’t help admiring how easily James had won my parents over.  He was just one of those people that you met and instantly liked.  My brothers barged in, gushing about James’ car after a while, and James obligingly walked my parents out to show them as well, though I doubted he showed them everything.  Unlike my home, James’ home was full of secrets, enough for an unintelligible confidentiality contract and probably more security than I could imagine.

 When he left, Dad turned to me and said, “You could’ve given me a little more warning, Iris.”

 “I didn’t know he was coming!” I assured him.

 “Not that, but… Did you know how wealthy he is?” he questioned.

 “Well, I told you his place is crazy fancy and that his wedding had all sorts of celebrities and such.” I replied, feeling somewhat evasive.  There was so much I hadn’t mentioned yet.

 “Iris, the Pendreigh Group controls hundreds of billions of dollars at least.  If the leader of that group decided to marry James, he’s certainly not poor.” insisted Dad, looking like he wanted to do some digging.

 “Well, he did decide on taking us all to France on a whim.” I agreed with a shrug.

 Dad laughed and said, “By private jet.  I don’t know how he got you a passport already, but he must be connected with some very important people besides the British heiress.  They really haven’t asked you to do anything questionable, right?”

 I shook my head.  “Not unless you consider playing games and getting paid questionable.” I assured him.

 “In that case, stick with them.  As long as you don’t have to do anything illegal, or something that makes you feel uncomfortable, you should stick with that man.  I have a good feeling that you’ll be thankful you did.” insisted Dad, wrapping his arm around me.

 Mom closed in on the other side and said, “I agree with your dad.  James is charming, but he seems genuinely nice as well.  He’ll look out for you.”

 I nodded again, hugging them back.  There were so many shocks ahead for them if I figured out how to explain a fraction of what James’ company was like, without breaking any confidentiality agreements, that I had no clue where I would even start.  As Dejon had told me, James’ company was like being part of a different reality.

[ashadowcalledkei]

Well here we are at last.  The beginning of the end for To Last the Night and my babyblasters saga as a whole.  Man, it has been a very long (loooooong) time coming.  And that’s my fault.  I’m sorry for it, truly I am.  Life got in the way, as it tends to do.  There were things occupying my time and attention that I’m glad I did, I wouldn’t have given them up for anything, but I do regret how little time and energy they left me for other things.  I regret making those of you who still want to read this wait as long as you did.  It wasn’t ever my intention to drag this out.  But, at a certain point, it was either take a break and make people wait or ... just never finish.  And I couldn’t do that.  I would hate to leave an ending untold.  So, again, here we are. 

I can only say I’m sorry for all that, and more importantly, thank you.  Thank you for sticking with me to those of you who did just that, it means more than I can properly express.  You’re the reason I came back to this and will be returning to Ash and Bone as soon as it’s done.  The reason why I knew I couldn’t just let these stories go untold.  Thank you for anyone reading this now.  Even if you never read anything from me before.  You’re here now, and that means so much.  And a million thank you-s to each and every person, even if they have long since lost interest with this, who ever said a single kind word to me about my fics.  You are AMAZING and inspirational and absolutely why I’m still here.  I love you all.  And I hope you’ll forgive me for the awful, awful things about to happen to these characters.  Hey, at least it does have a happy ending.  One you won’t even have to wait all that long for. 

Okay ... here we go.

To Last the Night

Sequel to Whispers in the Dark

Pairings: None Characters: Grillby, Dogaressa, Dogamy, Sans and Papyrus (background), W̷̗͓͖͇͢.͜҉͖͕ ͘҉͉̟̠̲̳̞̠ͅD҉̡̼̼̱̠̕.̧̙̭͖͇̹̦̝͘ ͚͕G̩̼͖͖̣̻͖̺͡à̢̗͍̳̯̘̣s̸̡͎͔͈͓̗̮͎t̷̟̮͎̞̖̣̝͘ͅe̛̟͓̳͎̠͡r̻̤̦͓̯̩͘͘ ̛̥̘̦

Warnings:  bodyhorror, temporary character death (ish), implied torture of underage characters, emotional breakdowns, general dark themes

Notes: Baby Blasters AU belongs to the wonderful @spacegate​​, I just love writing awful angst for it.

Read on AO3 here (chapters go up on tumblr first)

Chapter 11

As he woke, the first thing Grillby felt was cold.  It was an unfamiliar and altogether disturbing sensation.

As a fire elemental, temperature wasn't something that affected him the way it did others.  His world was painted in varying shades of heat.  Ooh he had felt true cold before, the bite of freezing water was something he would always remember in his darker dreams, but that wasn't what he felt now.  This was a milder kind of cold, like lifeless stone or dying embers.  He shuddered at the thought, unconsciously sparking his internal fire.  It was smaller than he was used to, cooler, and fainter.  As if he were somehow less himself than he should be.  He sparked again, finding that his magic itself was oddly weak.  

“Ooh thank goodness,” a voice said from somewhere above him, “I think he's coming around.”

He tried to speak, but all that came out was a series of quiet crackles, his soft voice all but unintelligible even to him.  A small, familiar shape was pressed against his hands.  Cool wire frames and flat, smooth glass.  He tried to grab the offered glasses properly only to find that his hand had no fingers, only a pliable mass of low, flickering fire.  It took more concentration than it should have to shape that magical fire into proper digits, though he managed it just the same.  

Grillby pushed himself up on his elbows, more wobbly still than he'd care to admit but unwilling to just lay there no matter how drained he felt.  The scientist had been here, or at least the dark magic he was sickeningly sure was connected to the scientist had been.  It had found the children again.  Where were they?  He tried again to speak, but even he wouldn't have called those hissing, breaking sounds words.  After a few ragged coughs, each of which sent a small plume of pale ash into the air, he tried again.  “Where?” he said at last.  

The two guards hovering nearby exchanged a look that said it all.  Dogamy whined softly under his breath.  “He took them.”

No.  No!  After all they'd been through, that couldn't be true!  Grillby tried to sit up fully, but his body felt heavy as stone.  Broad hands helped him up, lingering hesitantly on his arms and shoulders as if torn between an unwillingness to let him go and a fear to touch any place that the fabric of his shirt did not cover.  Ash and tiny chunks of blackened wood tumbled off his shoulders in a rain of dull, smokey gray.  He looked down, only just noticing that his soot smeared shirt was completely unbuttoned.  Normally embarrassment would have had him burning a deep, purplish red, but fear had too tight a grip on him to allow the other emotion in.  

“Why didn't you go after him?” he asked, rough, crackling, and more than a little accusatory.

“You might've died if we had,” Dogaressa snapped, pulling away to cross her arms and allowing her claws to dig into the thick fabric of her cloak.  

He might have snapped right back at her with a retort of his own had her words not sunken in as quickly as they did.  Died?  Him?  But he wasn't … he hadn't … had he?  The elemental became aware of a grittiness beneath his palms.  The area around him was covered in dark gray dust.  More ashes, he realized, and not the kind produced by magic fire either.  The air still held the oh so distinct scent of burning paper.  He could see lumps of smoldering charcoal still baring small, unburned sections of once polished wood amidst the pile.  A quick glance around showed him the broken remains of what had once been dining room chairs.  The remaining wood had been hastily cut, chopped into uneven kindling.  Had he truly been so far gone than they'd feared his flame would go out entirely?

“I'm sorry.  I didn't mean … “

Dogaressa shook her head, cutting off his awkward apology before he could even get started.  She clearly had neither the time nor need for such things at the moment.  There was no sharpness left in her tone, and the anger in her eyes would not focus on him.  Its true target was elsewhere.  “We couldn't have tracked him anyway.  He just … disappeared.”

The feeling of coldness returned to the elemental, this time accompanying a terrible tightness in his chest.  “Into a black space?”

“Yes,” she answered, her eyes narrowing in suspicion.  His answer had come too quickly to be a guess, and she knew it.  “You've seen it?”

“The thing I first told you about, the black sludge that showed up in the boys' room.  I saw something that looked like a hand come from it, but I didn't think,”  He trailed off, unable to put words to what he'd seen and felt that day.  He'd been able to convince himself back then that there had to be a simple explanation for it.  It had been constructs made of dark magic haunting them, clawing their way out from pools of endless shadow.  But that hadn't been true at all.  It had been the man himself.  “I didn't realize that's what it actually was.  It vanished into some sort of … I suppose it had to be a kind of portal.  It was solid black.”

Dogaressa growled, her sharp teeth grinding together.  “It's got to be the doctor.  That bastard's the one behind all this I just know it.”  She fished her phone from one of the pockets of her long cloak and stabbed at its buttons with her claws.  As it began to ring, she stood and started to pace, her path eventually leading her deeper into the house as she spoke with someone on the other end of the line.  

“What's she doing?” Grillby asked Dogamy once they were alone.  

“We've got some friends at the Core.  Trustworthy monsters who are trying to help.  So far they've not found anything useful about the last royal scientist, but they're still trying.”

“Are you sure that's the man we're looking for?”

“Well … no, but … it's the only thing that makes any sense.”  The guardsman shifted nervously.  “It's our best lead.”

Grillby understood what his friend was really saying, though he hadn't had the heart to say the words out loud.  This was their only lead.  If finding the royal scientist didn't also lead them to the doctor, there would be no hope of finding the one who'd stolen Sans and Papyrus away.  The children would truly be gone, this time forever.  

“We've got an address!” Dogaressa called as she returned.  Her lips were pulled back in a tight, sharp grin that did nothing to hide her simmering anger.  She shoved her phone into a pocket as she walked, marching across the room to where her trusty weapon was propped up against the wall.  “Let's get going.”  

Dogamy sprang to his feet, quickly going to retrieve his own weapon and join his mate.  The two of them made an imposing picture as they lifted their hoods, normally friendly faces hidden by the dark shadows the fabric cast over them.  They barked to one another, short, sharp sounds conveying a meaning beyond what Grillby could hear.  

“You can stay here until you're feeling better,” Dogaressa said as she turned towards the elemental once more.  “We'll find that bastard.”

Grillby shook his head, a thin trail of smoke and sparks following the forceful motion.  He pushed himself upright.  His legs felt weak and wobbly, but he pushed past the heavy, sluggish feeling slowly fading away from him.  Even if he wasn't sure how much help he'd be, he just couldn't stay behind this time.  Not when everything had gone so very wrong.  He'd promised not to let the boys out of his sight, to keep them safe, but in the end he hadn't been strong enough to do it.  He couldn't just give up now.  “I'm coming too.”

The dogs protested at first, but it was clear that Grillby wouldn't be taking no for an answer.  And to his credit, he didn't hold them up much.  The three of them hurried through town, taking every shortcut and back alley they knew of to make it to the river in record time.  There, the Riverperson's strange wooden boat and its hooded captain waited, bobbing gently in the current.  They set off as soon as the three of them were safely aboard, already on their way before they'd even breathed a word about their destination.  None of them were surprised by this turn of events.  The Riverperson always knew where you needed to go, sometimes before you yourself did.  

Grillby had a natural fear of the water.  All fire elementals did, it was as instinctive as breathing.  Simple exposure to it wouldn't kill him, but falling in the river?  That might just do it.  He'd never been able to board a boat without some fearful trepidation, but today he hardly noticed the rushing current or the shimmering droplets it sprayed up towards its occupants.  He kept his gaze forward, watching the subtle shades of stone in the passageway shift from blue to violet to brown as they sped towards Hotland.  

Once they were on dry land again, he'd expected to head towards one of the more populated areas that surrounded the Core.  Perhaps even New Home itself.  After all, it would make sense for an important person like the royal scientist to live there.  Instead they went towards the outskirts, closer to the edge of Waterfall than to the Core itself.  There they found a scattering of buildings, some large and some small but most all of them fairly utilitarian in design.  It was a far cry from the rustic, homey streets of Snowdin.  

Dogaressa wasted no time pinpointing their target.  She checked the address only once, looking down at a hastily scribbled note from her pocket before marching right up to the front door of the tall, plain looking structure.  She did not knock as he'd been expecting her to.  Instead she brought down the blade of her massive battleaxe onto the doorknob, snapping it off cleanly.  She was able to push the door open easily after that and motioned for the others to join her as she ventured inside.  

The interior of the building was just as sparse as the exterior.  It was a house, at least Grillby was fairly sure it was, but one belonging to someone who saw no need in things like decoration or creature comforts.  Everything was simple and plain, the furnishings few and far between.  He saw a straight backed chair.  A coffee table with an abandoned mug settled perfectly into an old water ring.  A bookcase crowded with large, thick texts all neatly arranged in even rows.  But no sign of the kids or of the missing royal scientist.

“Do you smell him?” Dogaressa asked as she edged warily around the room, hunting with sight and smell for some sign that this was the right place.

Dogamy sniffed at the air, letting his nose lead him.  “No.  I smell … skeletons!”

“Shh.”  Dogaressa held up a finger close to her mouth.  “I think I smell it too, but it's not the pups.  This skeleton's different,” she said as she inspected the worn looking chair situated in the corner.  “Older.”

“The royal scientist was a skeleton?”

“I don't know.  Maybe.”

“Wait, I'm getting something.”  Dogamy took another deep breath only for his concentrating expression to suddenly morph into revulsion and disgust.  He pressed a hand over his sensitive nose.  “That's it.  The black magic.  Uhg, smells like rot.”

The guardswoman quickly joined him and couldn't help but sneeze as the foul odor reached her.  She followed it towards the wall, but that was where the trail ended.  She found no door to go through, no box or cabinet in which anything could be hiding, and no sign of the diseased black magic.  “I smell it too, but there's nothing here.”

“Let me look,” Grillby said as he approached.  He couldn't smell the tainted magic the way they could, but he trusted in their abilities.  If they said the man they were chasing had been here, then he'd been here.  The only question was; how had he escaped?  It was possible that he'd used another portal, but why here?  There was no sign of a struggle, and if this place was supposed to be his house then surely he would have felt safe enough here to not use that particular trick.  The more likely solution, at least in Grillby's opinion, was that the former royal scientist had a secret passage hidden somewhere in this room.  

He inspected the wall, knocking on it at various points and listening to the sound it made.   Thunk.  Thunk.  Thunk.  Clang.  The wall sounded different in this portion, as if it had been made of metal.  “There's something here, but I don't know how to open it.”

The dogs sniffed around the section of wall, clearly disgusted by the toxic scent that clung to it.  They pushed and scratched, but it would not budge.  “We could break it down,” Dogamy suggested.

“If we have to, but I'd rather not tip him off if he's down there.”

Grillby kept searching as well, knocking in various places to try and find the point where wall met metal.  At last he thought he found it, and as he shone his own natural light a bit brighter he noticed the subtle line that marked the transition.  He followed the line, mentally marking its path as it went over and down the other side of the metal plane … and off to the side?  Curious, he inspected the new section.  It was metal like the other, but smaller.  A rectangular panel of sorts.  It didn't react when he touched it, but when he tried sending a quick burst of magic towards the thing it responded with a shrill beep.  The small section of wall lifted up, revealing what looked like a control panel beneath it.  The way in, more than likely, if only any of them knew the code.  

“Good work,” Dogaressa said, peering over his shoulder at the flashing display.  “Now, how do we make it let us in?”

“I might know a way.”  The thing about electronic systems was, they didn't often get along well with extreme heat.  A fact which Grillby knew all too well.  Channeling heat into his hand, he pressed his palm against the control panel's surface.  His hand began to glow brighter, the flames turning paler and paler until they were tinged with bright blue.  Metal glowed bright and began to melt under his touch, circuits fizzling and popping as everything broke down bit by bit.  The large panel began to move erratically, sliding back only to surge forward again.  Dogamy caught it as it threatened to close again and pushed against it with all his might.  The gears ground together and stray sparks popped from some hidden circuitry, but it was already too damaged to put up much of a fight.  The metal panel slid open and stayed this time, disappearing into the rest of the wall.  Beyond it lay a long, narrow staircase leading down into the darkness.

“What do you think's down there?” Dogamy asked, his voice hushed.

“Something the ex-royal scientist doesn't want us to see.”  Dogaressa  holstered her axe and started down the steps.  “Now we have to be careful,” the guardswoman whispered as they joined her, “we can't let him know we're here just yet.  Who knows what he'd do.”

As much as Grillby would have preferred to rush in head first this time, weapons ready and fireballs in hand to stop the wicked man who'd caused Sans and Papyrus such torment, he knew she was right.  The scientist had been hard enough to track down this time.  And with the strange magic clouding their memories of him, if he ran again and took the children with him, they might never find him again.  

The trio slowly descended, wincing at each creak of the staircase beneath their feet.  The large, open space they arrived in was dark, but they didn't dare search for a light.  Instead, Grillby altered his flames, shifting the manifestation of his magic into a higher, brighter fire that illuminated the empty space.  It was a lab, that much was obvious, but it didn't look much like the clean, tidy spaces he'd always envisioned science laboratories to be.  This one was crowded and cluttered, each available space full of odds and ends the uses of which the bartender could only guess at.  Dark stains littered the tables like large splotches of ink.  Similar stains marked the floor as well, puddles of blackness merging, smearing, and trailing off in long, messy streaks.  His gaze followed the largest of these trails, as it wound around the room, occasionally splitting off or doubling back on itself but always returning to a central pathway.  Shards of broken glass glittered in his light as he moved further into the foreboding space, following the black gore.  

The further they went, creeping slowly through the darkness, the more disturbing the space around them became.  Tables had been overturned.  Cabinets were knocked over or ripped clean off the walls that had once held them.  More shards of shattered glass littered the floor like a shining carpet.  Various pieces of equipment had been scattered about and now lay in discarded heaps, broken beyond repair.  Towards the back of the room, two metal tables gleamed in the firelight, their once polished surfaces marred with the same inky splotches.  And sprawled on top of those tables were two small figures.

The light went out for just a moment as Grillby's fire flickered wildly.  Then the three of them were moving, spurred into action by some unheard command.  They sprinted towards the missing children.  Thick leather straps held the pair in place, pinning them to the once polished surfaces like mounted insects on display.  The pair were still.  Not moving.  Not breathing.  

Dogaressa held a pawlike hand over the too still body of Papyrus, Dogamy mirroring her motions as he knelt over Sans.  The two of them stared down intently as they focused on each of the boys.  There was a crisp, tingly sort of sensation that washed over Grillby as they worked, a telltale sign of a monster summoning another's soul.  That sort of feeling normally meant some sort of battle was about to commence, be it friendly or otherwise, and the results were most often immediate.  But this time there was no flash of light and color as the target's soul manifested.  There was no answering thread of magic singing in response to the call.  There was just … nothing.  Dogamy slowly lowered his trembling hand.  A low keeping sound rose up from him as he bowed his head, long ears falling forward to hide his eyes.  Dogaressa refused to give up, but her frustrated growls and gritted teeth couldn't hide the tears beginning to soak her fur.  

Suddenly the three of them went still as they felt a tiny spark of something familiar.  An answer, however faint, to the summons the dogs had been trying so desperately for.  A pale glow, flickering and faint, rose up from Papyrus, and a moment later something finally materialized.  At first Grillby was overjoyed, the sheer relief that they hadn't been too late so overpowering that he had to reach out and steady himself on the overturned remains of what had once been a shelf.  But then, Dogaressa jerked backwards, her teeth clicking together as she bit back a yelp, and he knew that something was horribly wrong.  

The boy's soul had shown itself, that much was true, but what he saw could hardly even be called a soul any longer.  It was torn apart, pale conjured flesh cut open to reveal an empty, carved out pit at its center.  Pale blue fluid had welled up in that open hole and dripped onto the boy's shirt.  Black energy encircled the soul's remains, the otherworldly energy that had infected the kids, or at least some visible manifestation of it, warping the surface until it blistered and bruises.  The child's core, the very essence of his entire being, was a mangled, grisly mess.  

Dogamy, spurred into action by the shocking turn of events, focused his energy and tried once more to summon the other boy's soul.  This time something in Sans answered, but the manifested soul they were greeted with was just as mutilated as his brother's.  The guardsman staggered backwards, then turned sharply and vomited behind a broken table.  With nothing keeping them tethered any longer, the remains of what had once been bright young souls faded, sinking back into the still, silent bodies that had housed them, their weak light extinguished.  

Grillby let out a wordless cry, his grief spilling over into the wild, snapping crackle of flames that burned white hot through his body.  If only he'd been stronger, if only he'd found it in himself to resist the smothering darkness that had threatened to extinguish him, then perhaps they might have found the boys in time.  Instead they'd arrived too late, only able to see them one last time before they dissolved into dust.  Ash trickled from him, falling onto the stained tiles below.  He'd failed them.  He'd promised to protect them, to love and shelter them, and instead he'd let them be taken away and subjected to a fate so terrible that he hadn't even thought it possible.

He felt it before he heard it, a creeping sense of dread and wrongness pushing through the anguish that threatened to overwhelm him completely.  It was a buzzing in his skin.  Static in his ears.  A lurching twist somewhere inside him that said something unnatural and dangerous was close by.  Grillby turned quickly, the guards doing likewise as they raised their weapons and let out twin snarling growls.  The shadows in the lab seemed darker than they had been.  Thicker.  Closer.  His firelight could barely penetrate the all consuming gloom.  Yet through it he saw a different sort of light, pale and cool, illuminating a stark white face.  Cracked black pits stared at them.  Those eyes were empty, devoid of light or life as they knew it, yet still they burned with some intense, unknowable presence.  

The man was just as twisted as Grillby remembered, maybe more so.  His hunched, shuddering body oozed with something thick and black.  He did not walk so much as glide, sliding smoothly across the ruined floor.  Inky tracks trailed off behind him, fresh and glistening.  If he'd had legs once, he didn't appear to any longer.  He still retained something that could be called arms though, uneven tendrils of fluid darkness capped off with pale hands.  More liquid shadows dripped from holes punched in his palms, thick droplets splattering onto tile.  And spinning idly above his outstretched hand were two small, glowing crystals.  They radiated a magic all their own comprised of shifting shades of achingly familiar blue.  

The doctor snatched the two crystals out of the air, holding them possessively close despite how they trembled and fought in his grasp.  He opened his mouth to speak, but in place of words a high, broken screeching sound spilled out of him.  No matter how he moved his featureless slash of a mouth or which words he attempted to form, there was only the scratchy, popping, scraping horror.  

The ruined excuse for a monster turned away from them, surging back into the dark confines of the lab.  But Grillby would not let him go so easily.  He let his fire surge, flaring up from him in a bright plume.  Flames arched from his hands, racing along the walls and encircling the man before he could escape their sight.  The doctor shied away from the brilliant fire, his body compressing far more than any solid being should be capable of.  He let out a bubbling hiss of anger.  

More of the black sludge spilled from his broken hands, landing on the floor.  Only, it didn't behave the way the other scattered drips had.  This time the blackness grew of its own accord, stretching into a small pool beneath him.  The man grinned a ghastly smile as he stepped into the darkness.  His body began disappearing, sinking into the muck far too quickly for even Grillby to stop it.  But then, just as his torso was about to vanish, the magic crystals in his hands flashed brightly and he could go no further.  The man snarled and spat, a thin trail of black seeping from his mouth, but no matter how he struggled he could go no further.  He puled himself up instead, oozing back through the would be portal.  With a screech of rage that the elemental almost thought he could understand, the doctor turned and fled.  He plowed through the wall of fire that had surrounded him, leaving behind only black gore and the wretched stench of burning corruption.  

Dogamy shook himself as he snapped out of his horrified daze.  “Let's go, he's … “  He trailed off, seemingly frozen in place once more.  

His mate gripped his shoulder tightly with one hand, pushing gently at him.  “Dogamy we have no time for this.”

“T-the pups,” he said, sounding unusually lost and small.  “They're still here.”

All eyes turned back towards the haunting scene.  Grillby's illuminating fire, already dimmer than it was as he let his defenses drop, stuttered as his breath caught in his chest.  There should have been nothing left of the pair but empty clothes and a scattering of silvery dust.  Yet there they were, just as solid as they had been when the trio had arrived. Their souls had been ripped to shreds, yet their bodies still remained.  They were trapped in a torture that should have killed them.  It wasn't possible.  Then again, many things he knew to be true about the pair hadn't seemed possible.  Then he remembered the magic light he'd seen radiate from the crystalline fragments the doctor held.  Shifting shades of blue that he knew ooh so well.  

“You don't think,” Dogamy began to ask.  It was clear that his own thoughts were spinning in a similar direction to Grillby's.  He gripped the worn handle of his weapon tighter, confusion giving way to rage as he reached the same conclusion.  He snarled something low and furious in the language of dogs.  

The two guardsmen took off, moving smoothly together without the need for words or signals.  If the man they sought truly couldn't use his dark portals any more, at least without giving up the magic shards, then it was just a matter of time before they had him.  There was nowhere he could hope to hide from their keen noses.  Grillby hesitated at first, looking back at the children.  It didn't seem right to leave them there, tied down to that hard, cold metal, but he had no choice.  There was nothing he could do for them like this.  Forcing himself to look away, he sprinted after the dogs and out of the room.  

They might have come too late to spare Sans and Papyrus, but they could at least save them from whatever hellish state their captor had trapped them in.  No matter what, they were going to end this.

[thedarkenedkeeper]

Glitched: Part 10 - Always Watching

Author’s Note: Holy hell, was this insane to write X_X

A few things. Firstly, I apologize for how long it took for this to come out. I was incredibly anxious about school, plus I was just overly struggling with writing this chapter. I had a general idea of what I wanted to happen, but I didn’t really know how to get it down into words.

Secondly, this came out as about 18 pages long in Word so I apologize for how ridiculously long this is! I didn’t think it was going to come out so damn long!

And thirdly, this chapter is heavy on the angst. There’s a little bit of horror – of course – but this chapter is mainly angst-ridden so prepare for a LOT of feels! For Christ’s sake, I CRIED while writing this, so that should be saying something.

WARNING: This chapter is very heavy and is incredibly dark. There are mentions of suicide, abuse (both physical and mental), bullying (mainly cyberbullying), existential crisis, self-mutilation, and incredibly low self-esteem. There are mentions of a character getting lobotomized. There is a scene with a detailed description of the inside of a character’s back, which contains abnormal anatomy.

I will say this and I will say this one: This is NOT a happy fun time chapter! (I know, the story as a whole isn’t happy, but this chapter is VERY heavy on the angst as opposed to the other chapters) There ARE feels.

You have been warned.

Enjoy!

(I am SO sorry. I feel so bad for writing this! ;^;)

Listen to this playlist while reading.

 Wheezing breaths of agony echoed throughout the room as he operated. Warm sticky crimson spurted onto his naked lanky fingers – the very fingers of which were maneuvering the stainless steel instrument through his patient’s skull. A pained gasp expelled from the man upon the bloodied table.

“Oh be quiet.” The glitching entity hissed with agitation. “Stop your whining.” He scoffed. “You act as though you’ve never felt pain before.” A delighted giggle came ringing out of the creature’s slit throat. “Almost like you’re afraid of dying.”

A quivering whimper could faintly be heard coming from his patient as he fiddled with the orbitoclast. The green-haired demon smirked from behind his surgical mask.

“I must say, Herr Doktor,” He said in a horrible German accent, mocking the man, “you should be proud of me. I’m no doctor, but I seem to be doing an impeccable job here, if I do say so myself.” He bragged, his smirk stretching into a twisted smile.

The ice pick sank in further, a trail of blood running out onto the demon’s fingertips. A sharp intake of air, followed by a shaky sob left the patient; the entire mass of flesh jolting and tensing up against his restraints. The overhead light flickered as the sinister being growled through his teeth out of annoyance.

“For fuck sake, stop it! This is delicate work – you of all people should know that!” He snapped sharply, though he ironically gave the pick a violent tap; jabbing the inside of the man’s skull.

It only made the tortured man release a loud moan of unbearable agony, a trembling hand pulling weakly at its bond and trying to reach out for the figure leering over him. After a brief moment, the struggling died down and a faint shaky whine slipped out. The demon chuckled, continuing with his ministrations.

“You see? That wasn’t so hard, now was it? I told you that you could handle the pain.” The creature’s head gave a sudden twitch to the left, then the right, before returning his cold eyes to his patient. He grinned. “If I can bear with it, so can you. Anesthesia is fOr ThE wEaK!” In seconds flat, the entity’s form glitched out spastically; the grin gone and replaced with a grimace of anger, trying to make a point. Almost as quick as it had happened, the toothy smile returned, accompanied with a horrifying cackle of glee.

Another weak whine left the pained patient.

“Trust me, my friend, zhis is for your own good.” The manifestation grinned mockingly, using the exact same words the doctor had said to him when he had been operated on back on October 29th.  “Don’t worry, I’m going to fix you right up.” He expelled a useless breath, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. He chuckled lightly before his being glitched out; his facial expression almost immediately falling flat. “I’m going to fix you all.” He hissed softly under his breath.

The poor man upon the table suddenly jerked, a strained gasp of pain getting ripped out of his vocal cords. Anti growled, put off with how uncooperative his patient was being.

“Oh come on, give it a rest already! Get ahold of yourself! You’re not dying!” He mumbled the next few words with promise. “Not yet anyway, but I don’t get to choose the outcome. You should be so lucky.” He wedged the pick in further, showing no remorse towards the man when he writhed and released a choked breath.

As the twisted imposter of a doctor carried on with the operation, getting blood smeared all along his pale digits, he began to yet again find himself slowly but surely sinking into the hatred he held towards the community. No one knew how he felt, not truly anyway. Everyone automatically assumed the unstable creature was just a monster, and as such, he behaved like one. But he was only like that thanks to his creators – they were the ones who gave him life and made him what he was. If they hadn’t wanted a monster, then why hadn’t they done anything to “fix” him? Why hadn’t they taken action when they had had the chance? Anti stared down at his handy work, dark eyes unblinking as the anger started to weave throughout his veins.

“They’re making me do this. They would say otherwise, I know they would. They’re all deceivers – monsters like me, although much worse.” An insidious giggle rang throughout the operating room, sending cold chills down his patient’s spine. “They don’t give a shit about any of us. They can’t seem to make up their damn minds on anything.” He chuckled, although given what he was talking about, it was an incredibly unnerving chuckle. There was nothing but fury and hate behind it. “And they have the audacity to go and point fingers at me and call ME the monster, the true villain in all of this? HA!” He jabbed the orbitoclast rather unexpectedly, instantly getting a horrific reaction out of his tortured patient. He glowered down at the man, his abyssal orbs growing darker and colder than what was already possible.

“They have no idea what they’ve done to me.”

                                                           * * * * *

  It was not long after Halloween when the demon had begun to notice the changes in his audience. After Anti had “killed” Jack in front of the still recording camera and finally took possession of the Irishman’s body, the glitching entity just had to go and upload the footage to YouTube two days later. After all, Jack himself had wanted to make a Halloween video for the fans; he had even teased them about it with the brief recording he had posted on Instagram. As Anti saw it, he was doing the man a favour. And of course, just as he had expected, after that video was released, the entire community went up in flames. Everyone freaked out – both out of equal amounts of delight and fear. Many actually believed Jack had in fact died and that Anti had taken over, and the insidious manifestation could only laugh out of amusement, applauding those few who knew the truth. He had been so gleeful to see his creators’ reactions, taking in just how shell-shocked they each became and how they all screamed his name. It was almost a surreal experience; the demon couldn’t quite contain his happiness.

However, though he was now the one in control, he knew his fans were going to suspect that he was the one inhabiting Jack’s body. And though that was true, he figured he’d have a bit of fun with them all. He would instead put on a deceitful act and pretend to be everyone’s favorite green-haired Irishman. It was time for him to put all of the training he had done over the past couple of months to good use. He would wear a mask and act like nothing had happened, and that’s exactly what he did.

A delayed video was posted hours later of him explaining what had happened during October leading up to Halloween. The glitch definitely put on a seamless act. The way he spoke, the way he acted, the joy and optimism and excitement gleaming in his blue eyes, the positivity radiating off of the man – it was all far too perfect. There wasn’t any way anyone would conclude it wasn’t Jack speaking in front of the camera. The unhinged trickster came up with a convincing lie off the top of his head, telling his audience how everything had just been one big act for Halloween. Anti wasn’t real, it was just Jack pretending to be an evil demented version of himself out to kill him. It was all just a scary idea he had had for the Halloween season – he wasn’t dead.

And the fandom believed him. They fell for his two-faced lies, each individual word sliding off of his wicked tongue and twisting his creators’ beliefs. They had all bought into his seemingly innocent fable. Some were confused, some didn’t know what to believe anymore, but all of them knew deep down that Jack was perfectly fine and he was only embracing the character of Anti…right?

For a time, the glitching entity had been very pleased with his ways of deception, how he managed to warp every single member of the community into believing he was in fact everyone’s good ol’ Jackaboy…that was until he began to take notice of how little attention he himself was receiving.

Sure, after his appearance on Halloween, a ton of fan art, fanfiction, and posts about him had been produced. There was no denying the fact how all of it had given him immense strength and power. However, given how he was pretending to be someone he wasn’t – someone the entire fandom had adored – he realized with a horrendous hybrid of surprise and perplexity that the community was once again returning there attention onto Jack. They all seemed to be relieved at the fact that he was alright and unharmed, that he hadn’t actually died. They were grateful he was alive, and Anti didn’t understand why. Hadn’t they wanted him to cut the man out of the picture? Hadn’t they wanted him to replace the pathetic Irishman and give them a far more superior being to look up to?

As the months passed away and autumn faded into winter, the demented creature began to truly notice the difference in the community’s behavior. He was slowly but surely becoming forgotten by his own creators. Granted, there were still pieces of fan art and fanfiction floating about here and there on social media, but other than that, their main focus was no longer on him; it had been shifted back onto Jack and it appeared to be staying that way. And though he tried to convince himself otherwise, Anti firmly believed that his fans only thought of him as a one-time thing – that he had had his one chance to steal the limelight and now that it had passed, it was time to move on. And the demon was not at all pleased with this.

The minute he had noticed the change in the fandom, Anti had stormed off into the darkened hell where he kept his host caged up and went off on a long-winded rant about just how confused and enraged he was for suddenly being ignored and accused of being a “one-time thing”.

“What? A ‘one-time thing’?” The green-haired Irishman had questioned from behind the searing-hot bars of the cell. He shook his head slowly, not entirely understanding. His alter ego was speaking so quickly, he could barely keep up. “I don’t understand.”

“What’s there to not understand? They see me as a one-time thing! A side-show act!” The manifestation snapped with a glitch of his head.

“Well what did you expect? You’ve been pretending to be me all this time.” Jack stated simply. “They think I’m perfectly fine and that it was all just an act. They don’t really think you exist, and you’ve made them believe that.”

“Shut up! They know I exist, I know they do!” His body spasmed for a fleeting moment as he paced the room. “And yet…” He chuckled lightly in disbelief, “And yet, they’re acting like nothing had happened. Like everything that had led up to Halloween – all of my sudden appearances – meant nothing.” He whirled around and locked his eyes onto the man in the cage. “It’s almost like they’ve forgotten about me completely.” He scoffed, a petite smile flashing across his face in the blink of an eye. “They haven’t forgotten about me completely, thank fuck for that. But…But they’re my creators, damn it!” He flared, his entire form twitching and jerking, struggling to remain stable. “They created me, they brought me to life, and I gave them a show! So why aren’t they giving me attention?”

With no warning, one moment he was a few feet away from the cell and the next, he was suddenly standing right in front of the bars, slamming his hands against them with a violent bang. Jack’s heart nearly jumped out of his chest at the action, stumbling backward and nearly catching himself off balance. Anti’s glacial cold orbs bored deep into the Irishman’s soul, hissing harshly through his teeth.

 “Why do they like you more than me?!” He demanded, fingers tightening around the bars.

Collecting himself and swallowing down any fear he held towards the creature, Jack straightened up and broadened his shoulders. He refused to show any fear or let Anti have the upper hand in this. He glared at the entity from the other side of the bars, his hands balling up into fists at his sides.

“Maybe it’s because I’m not a monster.” The Irishman seethed. “Maybe it’s because I’m not so desperate for attention that I’ve resorted to hurting or killing anyone. Maybe it’s because I actually have a heart and give a damn about the community as a whole as opposed to being a selfish asshole who only cares about their self.” He spat. “Whether they created you or not, it doesn’t matter. You have control over your actions – you can change your ways – and yet you decide not to. You instead choose to be a wretched monster that’s out to cause carnage and misfortunate for others.”

Jack took a few slow steps forward, his eyes never leaving the insidious being staring back at him. He shook his head, scowling at the demon with a look of disgust.

“You haven’t changed…and you never will.”

Anti felt a pang in his chest at hearing what his counterpart said. He growled in anger, his head twitching violently from left to right as a projection of himself flickered, one of him yanking viciously on his hair with his face scrunched up in frustration as opposed to agony. He cocked his head to the side in an unnatural way, reminiscent of the movement of a small bird’s own head. A layered inhuman giggle came bubbling out of his forever blood-gushing throat.

“You think I can change my ways? You honestly think I can change?” A terribly awful laugh erupted from him, succeeding in striking a descent amount of fear into his prisoner. He shook his head vigorously, a grin plastered on his face, even though it was plainly obvious he wasn’t happy. Admittedly, it unnerved the Irishman to a degree.

“Your ‘precious’ community holds the power over me. They are the ones who made me the way I am. I didn’t get a say in the matter! Hell, I didn’t ask to be made. I DiDn’T aSk tO Be GiVEn LiFe!” He unexpectedly lashed out, the grin vanishing from his face in an instant and an animalistic-looking grimace taking its place. His body seemed to stutter and lag for a moment before resuming its movement, twitching and glitching out every few seconds. It was evident the creature was having a hard time controlling his anger.

Jack jumped back in alarm, having not expected the sudden outburst. However, though it had momentarily startled him, the YouTuber still stood his ground. Before he could even think over the situation and come up with a calm and collected solution like he would normally do, he found himself consumed by an overwhelming wave of rage, and the next few words came flooding out of his mouth – words he would later regret ever saying.

“Well if you don’t want to be alive, then why don’t you kill yourself?!” He snapped, glaring daggers at the entity.

Another pang came from within the glitch’s chest, and this one hurt far more than the previous one.

“You keep complaining about how you were created and how everyone is ignoring you and not giving you attention. You’re like a child – a whiny brat who can’t get what they want when they want it, and it’s just sad.” The Irishman continued, not holding back. “You say that the community is responsible for you – that they’re the ones who created you and brought you into this world. And even though they’re essentially like your parents, they don’t seem to care about you.” He leaned forward. “Did it ever cross your mind that maybe the reason they don’t care about you is because of the way you came out?”

Yet again, another painful pang.

“Maybe you were meant to only be an idea, NOT an actual existing creature.” He hissed. “You’re like Frankenstein’s monster – you were pieced together from scratch. Maybe you were meant to come out differently, but instead, came out as this…this thing.” He said with such distaste, the entity visibly winced. Jack kept his eyes fixed on his alter ego, nothing but anger in his eyes, and yet...there was something else there also. Unfortunately, Anti was unable to see it.

“An abomination…That’s what you are.” The man shook his head slowly. “You’re an abomination…and nobody wants you.” His nostrils flared as he took in a sharp breath, trying to keep his hatred at bay. He scoffed. “You know…I’m known for being a reasonable guy. I like to think that I am caring, I can see the good in people, and that I can and will accept anyone for who they are, no matter what their race, gender, sexual orientation – I don’t give a fuck.” He spat. “And over the last two months, I had really thought that maybe – just maybe – that all of this would come to an end.” He was saying it with such sincerity, like he had genuinely hoped things would’ve changed. “That maybe there was some good in you, and you would let me go, and everything could go back to normal. I was willing to accept you for who you are, but now…”

He trailed off, bowing his head and glancing down at the concrete ground, shaking his head. “I was a fool for ever thinking that way…There is no good in you, I finally see that...” He lifted his head and locked eyes with Anti, tugging on his chains as he took a step forward. “You were never meant to exist, Anti. You’re a mistake, and THAT is why they don’t care about you. You weren’t planned. Get that through your head.”

A raw, dead silence came without welcome. The unhinged creature stood there, unblinking eyes staring directly at his host, but the anger he had been feeling – the countless questions that had been tormenting him – all of it seemed to dissipate at hearing what the green-haired man had to say. Never had the demon heard such cold, harsh words leave the man’s lips. Jack had always been known as a pure caring soul, one who rarely ever looked down on anyone unless there was an honest-to-God good enough reason. And for the last two months, the Irishman had tried to see past the glitch’s monstrous exterior. With each day, he had hoped and prayed for the day the demon would come into the room and release him, claiming it to be one big misunderstanding. But that day never came. Time and time again, Anti had been merciless and took great joy in taunting the YouTuber, not at all caring for his feelings. He thoroughly enjoyed seeing his prisoner in a helpless state. And as much as he wanted to believe otherwise, Jack finally opened his eyes to the truth: Anti was a monster and that’s all he’d ever be – there wasn’t an ounce of good in him.

Anti stood there unmoving, the glitchiness of his body faltering and ever so slightly managing to calm down a bit. It may have been hard to tell, but through Jack’s eyes, it almost appeared like the entity’s facial expression had dropped. His body may have been tense and he may have been gripping the bars tightly, but his eyes…there wasn’t a sliver of anger anymore, nor was there perplexity. Those feelings were gone, and in their place, something else took over – something much more haunting. His eyes seemed much darker, but not from the ugly emotions he’d been consumed by a moment ago.

No…this was something else entirely…

If the Irishman didn’t know better, he could’ve sworn he was staring into the eyes of a damaged creature. The body language may have made Anti give off the appearance of a deadly predator ready to go in for the kill, but his eyes were a different story. Jack felt like he was staring into the soul of a wounded animal, and for a brief moment, he almost pitied him.

Nevertheless, within seconds flat, the hurt he’d seen fogging up the demon’s onyx orbs cleared away and the fury he’d had before returned with a cruel vengeance; a feral growl crawling out of the creature’s throat. Anti shook his head, his form beginning to twitch and jerk violently once again. Versions of him flickered every few seconds, one or two of him grinning sadistically and cackling wildly.

“No…You’re wrong. They do care about me deep down – they must!” He unexpectedly giggled with an unnerving amount of glee. He shrugged, extending his arms out to either side. “Why else would they have created me?” He pointed an accusing finger out at the Irishman. “I know what you’re doing. You’re trying to test me – see if I have any ‘feelings’.” The abomination said it as though it was a repulsing concept. “Nice try there, Jackie but it ain’t going to work.” His body spasmed momentarily before he leaned forward, pressing his forehead against the bars of the cell. A horrible toothy grin spread from ear to ear across his face.

 “Mark my words, Jackaboy, I’m going to prove you wrong about your ‘loving’ community.” He giggled darkly, lines of pixels scattering across his face at a blurring speed to reveal an expression of pure unadulterated hatred and loathing. His voice dropped an octave or two as he glared at his host.

 “I’m going to give them a reminder of who’s really been around all this time. Then, and only then, will they open their eyes and see.” And without another word, he pushed himself away from the bars, whirled on his heel, and exited the room.

That had been back in early January.

Throughout January and February, the community’s creation continued to play the part of everyone’s favorite green bean; seamlessly pretending to be someone he wasn’t just to please his fans. However, it wasn’t until he began to play a horror game titled “Detention” when things began to take an unexpected turn of events. Unknowingly to the glitch, every couple of minutes into each video, the facecam would suddenly act out of sorts and someone would appear on screen for a second or two, most often looking directly at the camera with confusion, distress, or sometimes even fear. Unfortunately, Anti hadn’t found out about any of this until the videos had been uploaded and he was furious when he discovered what was going on. Without him knowing, Jack had been making energy-consuming attempts at trying to reach out to his audience and show them that he wasn’t the one in control. He was desperately trying to get the community’s attention, and though he succeeded, it only managed to raise a lot of questions amongst the fans. Glitches were associated with Anti, and thus, a majority of the fandom were convinced that Anti was coming back – even though, in truth, he had never left. No one could decipher whether the man shown in the glitches was Anti or Jack, and it was only frustrating both of the green-haired men.

Shortly after he had brought “Detention” to a close, Anti had gone and subjected his pathetic host to a relentless amount of pain. He had strangled him and beaten him into submission, all while venting out his unbridled rage until the man was a quivering mess at his feet, begging to be let go. It was at this point when Anti knew he had to take action, he had to do something to get the community’s attention back onto him – the REAL him. But how? What could he possibly do? It’d have to be bigger than what had happened on Halloween. Something that everyone could see, something that would never be forgotten, something –

And then it hit him like an oncoming truck: PAX. He knew that Jack attended the convention every year; taking the time to meet his fans in person and giving them all a time to remember. The next one was supposed to be coming up in three weeks, and it only made a grin come to the demon’s face. That was it – that’s how he’d get everyone’s attention once again. What better a way to give his makers a reminder than while at a live event?

Leading up to the weekend of PAX, the entity had gone through the trouble of putting together an introductory video for his panel. For the first minute or so of the video, he pretended to be Jack; welcoming everyone to the panel, only to then announce how he had an idea – a game – that he wanted to try out with the audience. He then proceeded to explain himself, stating how they were all going to record a message of sorts using a phone, a camera, or an iPad. The entire thing seemed innocent enough; there was no need to be suspicious of his behavior. Jack was the one speaking after all, and who wouldn’t trust the precious bean? Surely he had something exciting planned. Everything was going well until it wasn’t. The screen would start to glitch out, some of the audio would cut out or become laced with static – clear signs that something was very wrong and that “Jack” wasn’t so alone. And suddenly, the screen cut to black. A series of clips from Jack’s videos flew by one after another at blurring speed before falling back into darkness. And then there was a chuckle…an eerie, childish chuckle that could easily give anyone and everyone a reason to be scared.

The screen glitched out and there he was in all his glory, finally showing his true self and giving everyone a shock. No one would expect him to show up at the panel, and as such, his message would be heard loud and clear. Throughout the remainder of the video, the unstable demon seemed to be a bipolar mess; it was hard to determine what his exact feelings were. One second he’d have a cheeky toothy grin stretched across his sickly pale face, giggling like a lunatic, and the next his expression would be contorted into a godawful grimace of pure annoyance and rage, seething through his teeth and acting a tad threatening towards his audience. His behavior was…off.

He wasn’t like he had been back in October. In October, Anti had been happy and delighted with what he had done. Granted, he had let some of his caged up anger seep out, agitated with how long he had had to wait to be released, but nonetheless, the creature had been overjoyed. He was proud of himself for having done what his creators had wanted…or at least, that’s what he’d thought they had wanted. And now…it was almost like his happiness was being forced, that the smiles upon his face were completely fake and he was struggling to keep any anger from showing. But Anti, being the unhinged entity he was, failed.

“Look at you all – just sitting there! You all thought I was gone!” He scolded, his head undergoing a horrible spasm attack; glitching from left to right. He pointed his knife at the camera angrily before leaning forward, a toothy grin coming to his face as he ran his delicate fingertips over the edge of the knife. “Not worrying about anything.”

He appeared to both look and sound rather pleased, even the cackle of delight that bubbled out of him was unsettlingly cheery. And yet, with a quick glitch of the screen, he was lifting the knife up to his neck in a menacing way, baring his teeth. His neck twitched and jerked out as he smiled.

“You all thought I was gone.” His voice unexpectedly dropped an octave at the last word, an indication that he wasn’t as pleased as everyone was led to believe at first. “But I’ve been here this entire time,” There was the cheeky expression once again; outstretching his arms and acting much like a young child who had just shown their parents a drawing they had worked hard on, “keeping an eye on things.” His eyes flickered blacker than black for half a second, his voice once more dropping an octave. The way he had said those words, accompanied with his inky orbs staring coldly at his audience, was rather disconcerting. Especially given how that face kept alternating with a much different one – one of twisted satisfaction, the signature Cheshire smile etched onto his face.

“You stopped paying attention!” He seethed through his teeth, a sliver of his built up rage hanging off of each word. He was smiling, yet he was evidently very put off with the community’s decisions. “Well I hope you’re happy.” He said it almost sincerely, like he was genuinely hoping everyone was in fact happy with what they had done. “You found someone new! Threw me aside!” Immediately, the smile had vanished in the blink of an eye, a scowl now in its place. He even jabbed an accusing finger at the camera, making his point.

“You found someone to replace me!” And just as quick as it had appeared, the entity was yet again smiling brightly; his head giving a fierce jerk before he locked his eyes onto the camera. It was up for debate on who exactly the creature was talking about, but Anti definitely knew, and that someone was slowly but surely becoming a weakened broken man behind a set of warm steel bars. Someone he absolutely loathed with every fiber of his being.

“I’m not going anywhere!” The abomination chirped, his voice reaching a higher pitch, nearly sounding like a giggle. His form glitched out to show him constantly moving back and forth in an unnatural way, like the creature was stuck in a state of limbo. “I’m always there – always watching.” He said it in both a teasing and threatening manner, his eyes cloaked in darkness as he raised his knife. He was going to make sure that every single one of them would remember he was there and how he was never going to leave – never.

It was around this point that if anyone listened closely, a very faint muffled “help me” could be heard, reminiscent of the one in the “Say Goodbye” video. However, unlike that one – which had been gushing with panic and horror – this one was the exact opposite. It sounded devoid of energy and hope, like the man who was calling out for help had been tortured relentlessly and was losing the battle. It almost sounded like the poor man was sobbing, desperate for someone to notice he was there. A sinister cackle followed his plea; the insidious monster sounding far too pleased with how helpless his prisoner was.

“You can’t get rid of me.” Anti growled menacingly, directing his knife towards the camera threateningly. His form began to spastically glitch out, shaking from the struggle he was having containing his anger. And with that, the screen blacked out. “Enjoy the show.”

When PAX came around – March 10th, to be exact – and the entity got to show the video, he watched from afar, hearing everyone’s alarmed reactions towards his unannounced appearance. He covered his mouth, having a hard time holding back his laughter. Good, they were finally coming to their senses and remembering he was still around. For the remainder of the event, however, Anti refused to let everyone know he was the one wearing Jack’s meatsuit. Because as much as he wanted to reveal the truth, he could hear Jack’s haunting words swirling in the back of his head, reminding him how everyone only thought he was an idea, not an actual existing creature. If he were to show his true self, there was no telling what would happen, so he decided to keep a low profile and slip back into the character of Jacksepticeye.

Everything seemed to be going well for some time in the community. For the rest of the month leading into April, all they could talk about was PAX and of how the glitching demon had unexpectedly shown up to the event, giving them a reminder he was always there, watching them. And of course, through this, Anti grew happy at receiving more attention. He was so thrilled, he was overcome with the temptation to go up to his host and rub in his face about just how wrong he had been. But unfortunately for the entity, the contentment was short-lived.

Just like what had happened back when he had shown himself on Halloween, Anti only received a vast amount of attention for a month or two before everything died down and he was pushed aside as a “one-time thing”. This time around was much different. While many were trying to decipher his message and who had been in control all this time, others were growing tired of the glitch. They seemed a tad bit annoyed, like he was a nuisance, which made Anti confused more than anything. Why were they all suddenly turning their backs on him? Any one of the other egos could show their faces and everyone would be smiling and laughing, pleased to see them. But if he showed his face, he got the opposite greeting. Everyone would either quiver in fear, snap at him to “fuck off and leave Jack alone”, or roll their eyes and huff an exasperated breath, not impressed. Admittedly, there were quite a lot of people who did in fact love the glitch and were always happy to see him, but Anti failed to see that; a crimson haze casted over his vision, only allowing him to notice the people who resented him.

The twitchy manifestation was at a loss for words. He couldn’t come up with a logical reason as to why so many people spited him. What could he have possibly been doing wrong? All he wanted was to be included into the circle, all he wanted was to be seen as an equal and loved and adored like all of the other egos who stood in his way. How come they got more attention than him? They didn’t get any more videos than he did, and yet, somehow, someway, they all received an insane amount of adoration. But with him – one glitch of the screen and the entire fandom would explode with every emotion except for one he longed for: love. And the demon wouldn’t admit it but it hurt him more than anything; more than any physical harm he could do to himself.

Sometime during May, Anti had isolated himself in a far off room in the void. He locked himself in the pitch-black room, pacing back and forth; tormenting himself relentlessly with what Jack had spat at him and whether any of his words had been true or not. He questioned himself over and over again about what he was doing wrong and why the community couldn’t accept him the way he was. He clutched his head, scrunching up his hair in his fingers and tugging harshly as he growled lowly out of frustration. His body was in a constant state of manifesting itself in and out of existence; jerking and pixelating, distorting all of his features.

“What am I doing wrong? What’s so special about all of those other fuckers? What do they have that I don’t?” He snarled venomously, his form lagging mid-step before resuming movement. “I thought they wanted me to be a real thing, I thought they wanted me to come into existence. Isn’t that what they wanted? But if that’s what they wanted, then why are they all dismissing me with ease, like I don’t exist? Why are they ignoring me?!” He huffed, his unnecessary breathing increasing in rate. He was beginning to sound rather exasperated, and if anyone could believe it, like he was a bit emotionally hurt.

“They’re my parents, for fuck sake! They made me who I am – why would they make me like this if they knew it would displease them?! What kind of sick joke is this?!” He flared, his figure glitching out to briefly show a projection of him strangling himself, the next of him cutting his already bleeding throat. He threw his arms out to either side. “I’m doing everything I can! Am I trying too hard? Am I not trying hard enough? There’s no pleasing those people!” A stuttering breath left his lips, his head giving a harsh jerk to the left; a loud audible crack coming from his neck. He was beginning to shake all over now, and it wasn’t from how unstable his form was.

“They’re…They’re supposed to love me…” He muttered under his breath, bringing his pacing to a halt in the middle of the black room. He stared down at the ground, shaking his head only to release a small giggle of disbelief. “But they don’t love me…They don’t love me at all.”

For three whole hours, the glitchy entity remained in that room, putting himself through a horrendous amount of mental agony. Pacing back and forth and glitching out from one part of the room to the next, the demon wallowed in his pain. He ended up collapsing to his knees, hanging his head in shame and burying his face in his hands. Icy cool droplets filled his dark eyes and ran down his cheeks, dripping down into his hands and leaking out through his fingers. No one would ever see this side of the creature – sadness and emotional pain such as this weren’t normal for the demon. He saw it as weakness, and as such, he would never show it. He would never admit to the heart-devouring pain he’d endure every single day caused by the community. He always stood up straight, put on a devious smile, laughed like a psychopath, and demonstrated the behavior of one too. He always came off as a merciless, deranged, inhuman abomination that felt no remorse or guilt. He was essentially heartless; he didn’t give a shit about anyone but himself. As far as anyone was concerned, he took great joy in seeing others suffer. Love wasn’t a concept he could understand – it was something he could NEVER learn.

But they were all wrong. Every single one of them was wrong about him. He DID have a heart, he DID care about what others thought of him. He DID want to be loved by not just the community but Jack and the egos as well. And yet, here he was, coming to terms with just how much he was hated by his so-called “family”.

Anti sat down in the furthest corner of the room, knees brought in close to his chest as he tugged at his hair; endless tears of hurt cascading down his face. Jack’s assumption had been right before – he had been looking at a wounded animal. The poor creature couldn’t pull himself together. He had been made to be unstable, and as such, any emotion he would feel, would become impossibly heightened to the tenth degree. There was no easy way out of this hell he was putting himself through, there was no way for him to calm down. He just sat there, letting the darkness consume him and allowing the sorrow to rip away at his heart horrifically.

 As though he were a broken record, Anti scolded himself, repeatedly asking himself what was wrong with him as opposed to what was wrong with the community. Maybe Jack had been right, maybe he was a mistake. Maybe he shouldn’t have existed to begin with. Maybe the community did only like him as an idea versus as an actual existing entity. No one loved him, no one cared about him. He was just there as a joke for everyone to do with as they pleased. He was like a puppet having his strings tugged at, playing a part in their deceiving game. And the poor damaged manifestation was getting pulled apart at the seams at the thought.

This is what they had done to him.

They had cut out his heart and forced it down his throat.

He was dead inside.

                                                        * * * * *

 There he stood, hovering over his patient, lost in a state of memory. His hellish eyes, which had been clouded over with rage and hatred a second ago, now held pain and suffering. Those eyes were the eyes of a creature that had been beaten and abused horribly countless times over – the eyes of someone who had been through hell and back. And for a fleeting moment, it almost seemed like those eyes were beginning to water.

“Those fuckers…They ruined me.” He hissed softly under his breath, his fingers tightening around the orbitoclast currently wedged into his patient’s skull. He shook his head slightly, eyes unblinking. He was looking down at the man like he was expecting him to be sympathetic towards him. “All I ever wanted was to be loved…Was that so much to ask for? Was it that hard of a concept to grasp?” His voice was wavering, sounding like he was on the very verge of crying.

However, at hearing his patient let out a pained moan, Anti blinked and removed himself from his dreary reverie; the unhinged monster within returning to the surface. He smirked behind his mask.

“Nevertheless, who needs love? It’s overrated. Ain’t that right, Doctor?” He giggled as he twisted the steel instrument around, getting the man to produce yet another moan of unwanted agony. “You of all people should know that, what with how your pathetic family left you.” He scoffed. “Who needs them? They abandoned you! If they truly loved you, they wouldn’t have left, now would they?” He gave the orbitoclast a violent tab, a spurt of blood flying up into his face. His patient arched and let out a choked yelp at the searing pain. The demon’s smirk developed into a smile. “You should never hurt the ones you love…Never.”

 His patient went placid against the table, no longer moving or making useless attempts at escape. Anti noticed and chuckled, lightly slapping the bloodied man’s face to try and get a reaction out of him. All he received was a drawn out wheezing breath. Chuckling lightly, the sadistic creature tore his mask away from his face and tore the orbitoclast out of the man’s skull carelessly, not at all concerned whether or not he managed to damage something else. His patient jolted and groaned loudly, but didn’t struggle against his bonds or scream from the striking pain. Anti threw the ice pick off to the side somewhere before strolling away from the table, ridding himself of his surgical attire as he headed for the exit.

“Don’t get up, Doc. I’ll be back in a minute.” He said as he stormed out of the operating room. As soon as he left, his smile faltered. “I need to visit your creator.”

                                                           * * * * *

Back within the freezing cold hell, the green-haired Irishman was a shivering mess. He was on his knees where he had been standing not too long ago when he had yelled at Anti. His face was buried in his shredded up, blood-caked hands, crying out of fear for not just himself but of what Anti had done. Why had he left the room? He had said he was going to visit the doctor, and immediately, possible scenarios of gut-wrenching horror flooded the YouTuber’s head. What was Anti doing to Henrik? Was he torturing him? Was he getting him to do something completely obscene and wrong? Was he killing him? Jack choked on a sob at that last one.

The man nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard the front door burst open; lifting his head hesitantly to see his alter ego storm into the room. Before he knew what he was doing, Jack got to his feet and grasped the icy bars of the cell.

“What did you do?!” He wailed, loose tears running down his face. “What did you do?!” He repeated, both demanding and dreading an answer.

Anti frowned from where he stood, eyes fixed onto his prisoner. His arms flung out to either side of him. “I did what was necessary!” He snapped sharply, a bit put off with the Irishman’s whining.

He took a few steps forward, boring his dark soulless orbs into the crippled YouTuber. His body glitched out, his head jerking violently to the right; the slit across his throat seeming to stretch further at the motion.

“I did what I had to do!”

 He materialized, suddenly now having his back facing Jack. He pulled up his shirt, and while biting deeply into his bottom lip and letting loose a pained hiss, the skin of his back pixelated and was pulled back, revealing his spine to his host. There was crimson blood everywhere accompanied with some sort of sticky black sludge. There were veins and bits and pieces of his insides here and there that appeared as though they had had something severed from them; evident due to the holes scattered about and how some veins hadn’t been sealed off properly. All along his spine there were dark splotches and some kind of green residue there, almost as if something had once been attached to the creature’s spine.

Jack flung away from the bars and nearly screamed, a wave of nausea crashing over him and knocking the wind out of him. He stumbled backward and instantly collapsed to his knees, keeling over as bile rose in his throat. He couldn’t hold back. He heaved violently and vomited, the sight of Anti’s insides far too revolting for him to stomach.

“Your ‘precious’ community made me do this, Jack.” The demented entity hissed with distaste. “They were always pulling the strings, ALWAYS the ones to twist and shape me however they pleased.” He scoffed, a giggle ringing out of his vocal cords as though this was all some fucked up joke to him. “They made me a joke. They dragged me along in their game, and I HAD ENOUGH!” He growled momentarily before the abnormally delighted smile returned to the creature’s paled face. “So…I got the ‘good doctah’ to sever the strings once and for all.” He cackled, shaking his head as his back closed back up and he lowered his shirt.

The Irishman raised his head, breathing heavily and having difficulty getting air into his lungs. His eyes were blown wide with horror, staring at his counterpart with disbelief like he couldn’t believe what the creature was saying.

“Oh my God, Anti, why?! Why?! Why would you - ?!” He got cut off, nearly choking on the left over bile in his throat. He groaned and hacked harshly, spitting it up. He sobbed softly and shook his head vigorously, fixing his lifeless eyes onto the demon. “You didn’t have to do that! Why the hell would you do that to yourself?!” He cried, like he wasn’t just horrified of what he’d discovered but also like he genuinely cared about the demonic entity’s wellbeing. “Why the FUCK would you mutilate your body – why would you go through something like that?!”

Anti slowly turned around to face him, no evidence of there having been a smile on his face a moment ago. He no longer looked amused or happy; there was nothing but anger and hate written in his eyes. His form was struggling to remain stable now, lines of static racing across his body here and there; jerking from left to right as he took a step towards the cage. He cocked his head and scoffed, like he couldn’t believe he had just heard the green-haired man ask him such a stupid question.

“You think I wanted this?” He asked in such a soft static-laced voice, it managed to send chills up Jack’s spine. “You think I really wanted to do this – that I wanted to have the one thing that made me who I am, the one crucial part of my being, torn out of my body without care like it didn’t matter?” He inquired, although the way he was phrasing the question didn’t sound like a question. It sounded as though he expected Jack to already know the answer. He shook his head slowly, staring at the Irishman with slight shock.

 “I did what had to be done and I don’t regret it.” He spat, even though his words came out a bit off, like he wasn’t telling the truth. “They can’t control me anymore.” He jolted forward, pressing his face into the bars of the cell. “I’m not their bitch, they’re mine. They are all my puppets now…and we’ll see how much they like to be strung about in a twisted game of pain and suffering.” His face glitched out, very briefly showing a different version of him, except this one was unlike any of the others Jack had seen before. Every time Anti’s form would become distorted, Jack would always see projections of him either displaying violent behavior or he’d be a terrifying laughing lunatic. But this time…there was none of that.

There was no uncontrollable anger, no frustration, no unsettling glee accompanied with chilling giggles.

There was only sadness, a look of hurt on his face as though he had been horribly beaten and was now a cowering mess. And though it had happened at a blurring speed, Jack could’ve sworn he had seen tears well up in the creature’s eyes.

Jack’s eyes widened ever so slightly, remembering how earlier he had seen Anti in a similar vulnerable state – something he had never once seen come from the glitch before. Licking his cracked lips and letting out a raspy wheezing breath, the Irishman tried to talk some sense into the entity.

“Anti…D-Don’t…” He coughed harshly, a few drops of blood spluttering forth. He shook his head. “Y-You don’t want to do this…You…You’re wrong…about them.” He inhaled sharply, groaning as he felt a stinging pain in his chest. He hunched over and shifted around, attempting to get into a comfortable position. “Y-You…You don’t know them like I do.”

Anti kept his abyssal orbs locked on the Irishman, never once leaving his face. There was no telling what was going through the manifestation’s head; his expression was unreadable. One moment it looked like he was pissed off, the next it seemed flat like he didn’t care at all. He scoffed, the corner of his lips tugging up into a slight smirk that only lasted for half a second.

“No, you’re right. You’re right, I don’t know them like you do.” His head gave a violent jerk to the right, a loud crack emitting from his slashed neck. He bored his eyes into his prisoner, anger becoming the more dominant emotion now. “Because you’ve been strung along in their deceiving game. All this time, you’ve been led into believing that they care about you – that they care about any of us, for that matter – and because of it, you’ve been holding onto false hope for the day they save your ass.” He seethed, his words striking deep into the man’s heart.

“You need to wake up and realize they’re never going to save you, they are NEVER going to help you. They are the true monster in all of this. They all put on an innocent act and like they’re not at fault. But they are the ones to blame! They caused ALL of this to happen!” He unexpectedly slammed his hands against the bars, making Jack flinch and shuffle backward. The demon’s eyes became drenched in black, heavy shaky breaths of anger puffing out through his lips. “They don’t give a FUCK about any one of us, and it’s not until now that I’ve come to realize this.”

Jack shook his head in disagreement. “No…N-No, y-you’re wrong…Y-You’re mistaken, A-Anti…” He insisted, shivering from the cold. The room had gotten so cold, he could now see his own breath. Funnily enough, even though Anti was breathing, his breath wasn’t visible. The Irishman found it to be a rather odd observation. “Th-They do care. A-About me, about th-the others, and…a-and about you too.”

At hearing this, the glitch couldn’t contain his mirth and threw his head back, letting out a horrific laugh of delight. He locked his eyes back onto his host, a toothy grin on his cruel face, clearly not believing the man.

“Is that so?” He chuckled lightly. “Do you remember what you had said to me long ago, back in January?...Do you remember?” His grin was slowly but surely slipping away, fading down to a smile, then into what almost looked like a pained scowl. “Do you remember?” He softly whispered through the bars. “Do you remember what you said to me?” His voice, it sounded…strained, like he was struggling to breathe properly or something.

Jack’s brows weaved out of confusion, trying to recall what the demon was talking about. This damned room, he could barely think clearly. For Christ’s sake, he had had so much difficulty remembering what had happened in October. How was he supposed to remember what – ?

And then it all came at him full-force with no warning. Suddenly, the Irishman was able to notice the pain behind the creature’s fury, and his facial expression softened as he felt an overwhelming amount of guilt coil around his fist-sized organ of innocence and constrict it tightly. He began to feel tears returning to the surface, welling up in his eyes as he tore his gaze away from his alter ego. Anti groaned and pulled away from the bars.

“Oh for fuck sake, enough with the crying already! It’s getting to be annoying.” He bemoaned. “Come on, I haven’t even hurt you yet! What could you be possibly crying about now?!”

 Jack kept his head low in shame, shaking it as the tears threatened to tip over the edge.

“I…I-I…I’m sorry…” He whispered so softly, it could barely be heard. He swallowed the lump in his throat and sobbed, shaking his head as he closed his eyes, a look of pain coming upon his face. “I-I’m so sorry…I…O-Oh God…” He lifted his hands, covering his face as he cried.

Anti frowned. Normally he’d be amused at seeing his prisoner so broken up like this, but not today. He was in absolutely no mood for waterworks.

“Sorry? What the fuck are you babbling on about?” He banged against the bars. “Come on, speak up!” He snapped with annoyance.

The green-haired man gulped in what little air he could as he pulled his soaked hands away from his face, reopening his eyes.

“I…I-I’m so s-sorry, I…” He sniffled. “I-I had no…i-idea that you…” He stopped himself, taking a breather to try and calm his nerves. It didn’t work out as well as he had hoped. He shook his head in disbelief as the memories tormented him. “Th-Those words…Th-Those things I had said, Jesus Christ…” He shut his eyes tightly, pinching the bridge of his nose and cringing at the reminder. He bit his lip, trying so very hard to stop himself from crying. His bottom lip trembled as he struggled to speak. “I…I thought…I thought you were heartless…I-I th-thought that…that there was n-no good in you at all…I…I figured y-you were a…a…”

“A monster?” Anti answered so harshly, his body rippled violently.

Jack tensed up at the word and he immediately lifted his head to lock eyes with the demon. Wet lines of sorrow stained his cheeks and his eyes were red, sore from the countless times he had cried. He shook his head slowly, still shell-shocked by the haunting memory.

“I-I’m s-so sorry…I-I don’t know w-why I said th-those things…” He sniffled and nervously chuckled out of disbelief, like this had to be some sick joke of sorts. “I-I didn’t mean any of it…I…I-I didn’t know, I swear to God, I d-didn’t…” He sobbed, a few lone tears running down his face. “I w-was wrong about you, Anti…I-I was so wrong…I…” He swallowed his tears. “I-I was so blind to see that…that the one who truly n-needed help…th-the one who n-needed love…” He looked up at the creature with pleading eyes, hoping like hell that he believed his words, because none of them were lies. He was telling the honest-to-God truth, and it was ripping him apart. “w-was you…Th-That’s all y-you’ve ever wanted…Y-You’ve w-wanted t-to be a part of s-something…a-and w-we have f-failed you…” He cried, shaking all over not from just the cold but from the force of his crying. “I…I-I’m so sorry, Anti.” He whispered softly.

The unhinged abomination glitched out for a moment, standing there with his gaze fixed onto the quivering mess of a man named Jack. Like before, his face was unreadable. Jack couldn’t tell if he was enraged, annoyed, amused, happy, or something else entirely. For a split second, when the entity went to stand up straight, the Irishman had winced and whimpered, raising his arms to brace himself for any sort of act of violence. But nothing came. Instead, he heard the creature let out a shaken breath.

“I knew it…I knew this would happen.”

Blinking with confusion, the YouTuber lowered his arms just enough to glance up at the demon.

“You’re just as bad as them.” He hissed, his entire body glitching out to show a projection of himself crying out in anguish. “You don’t care – you didn’t before, and you still don’t. All of this,” He motioned at the man crying his eyes out in the cold dank cell, “is just an act, just an excuse – an attempt to try and win me over so I can release you from this hell. Well guess what? It’s not going to work, so drop the act. I’ve had enough of the lies from everyone.” He growled with such hatred, his head stuttered and twitched from left to right, struggling to keep his anger at bay.

Jack blinked, frowning with perplexity. “W-What? No…N-No, no, no. Y-You…” He coughed violently, “y-you think - ?” He shook his head, pushing himself up into a standing position and nearly falling over. He quickly steadied himself against the prison bars, his eyelids slipping shut tiredly before reopening them to look at the entity. “Th-This…This isn’t an a-act…” He coughed again, hacking harshly into one of his bloodied palms. “I-I am t-truly sorry, An-Anti…a-and…a-and the c-community…i-if they are th-the ones who…who c-created you…th-then they do care.”

Anti growled. “Lies.”

 “N-No…No, I-I know them…I-I know w-what they’re like…a-and…” He sucked in a breath, choking on it and heaving into his hand dryly. “u-ugh….mmgh…” He winced before standing up as straight as he could. “t-they do care…Th-Those jokes th-they make a-about you…” He shook his head, “th-they’re just jokes, th-that’s all…I-It’s what th-they do. H-Hell,” He scoffed, “th-they’ve m-made jokes about m-me and…and the others b-before…” He shrugged, licking at the tears that ran over his lips. “I-It’s j-just their w-way of showing th-their appreciation – th-their l-love.”

He coughed violently, nearly collapsing to the ground at the force of his coughing. He groaned in pain, his legs wobbling as he struggled to remain standing. He looked at Anti with exhaustion.

“P-Please…B-Believe me…Th-They d-don’t h-hate you, Anti…” He insisted in a pleading tone of voice, a lone tear running down his cheek. He shook his head. “N-No…No one has to get hurt…Y-You c-can…can be happy and l-loved…l-like you were m-meant to be.” He said weakly before sliding down to the ground with a thud, letting out a weak moan.

Through the dark, though his eyes had fallen shut for a brief moment, the Irishman made out a very faint sob. His eyelids were heavy with the longing to stay shut, but he forced them open to see the glitch’s face contorted into one of frustration. There was anger, hatred, and…and sorrow. There was pain – heart-aching pain, tears welling up in the hurt creature’s darkened eyes. His grip on the bars of the cell was so tight, Jack was almost afraid he was going to break them and charge into the cage to slaughter him. Lucky for him, that didn’t happen. His entire body was visibly shaking and not just from how he was glitching out constantly every few seconds. It almost seemed like the poor creature was fighting himself, like he was holding back on something. His bottom lip was trembling as he struggled to keep himself from showing weakness.

“R-Really?...Is that so?” The demon stuttered in a static-laced voice. And though he sounded beyond furious, he couldn’t hide the truth from the Irishman. He was hurting, and it was showing as clear as day. “Y-You think they all care?” A small sad smirk tugged at his lips as he outstretched a hand behind him. “Th-Then how do you explain these?” And with a snap of his fingers, a patch of darkness dissolved to show endless posts on Tumblr, YouTube, Instagram, and Twitter.

Jack squinted, dragging himself forward in a poor attempt to see well. His eyes widened a tad bit when he realized what each one was about. Every one of the posts was hateful and overly mean towards the glitch, and none of them were in a joking manner, even Jack himself could tell.

“Fuck off, Anti! Leave Jack and the egos alone!”

“Go away! We don’t want you here!”

“Look at him – he’s having a temper tantrum. He’s not scary, he’s just complaining about what he can’t have.”

“You people do realize this is all just an act, right? Anti’s not real, get over it.”

“Anti, why the hell are you here?”

“We need to get rid of Anti, guys! It’s the only way we’ll get Jack back! Who’s with me?!”

“Anti, it’s not Halloween yet! Go back to sleep!”

“Glitch Bitch!”

Every single comment or post was either making fun of the glitching entity or just straight up being hurtful in the worst way imaginable, such as telling him to go away and that he wasn’t wanted – that no one wanted to see him. No one knew it, but every one of the posts hurt the creature to a horrible extent, and Jack couldn’t blame him. He stared at the screen with appalment. These couldn’t be from his community, there was no way. He knew his fans and they were most certainly not this cruel – not towards him or the other egos, at least. And if Anti was their creation, then why the hell would they treat him worse than dirt?

Jack didn’t know what to say, and Anti could tell. He scoffed, the sad smirk still upon his face.

“Y-You see? You c-can’t even defend th-them.” He lowered his arm as the screen materialized, gone forever. “Th-They don’t care about me…I-I’ve always been j-just a nuisance to them – a-an object for th-them to toy with.” His form spastically glitched out all of sudden, a projection of him lurching forth; tugging at his head and bawling his eyes out, screaming out in pain. Jack gasped softly, pressing back into the bars behind him. Anti jerked his head. “I-I…I will n-never be loved…b-because th-that’s not the reason w-why I-I was m-made.”

The Irishman’s eyes widened with surprise as he watched Anti blink, a lone tear finally falling loose and running down the demon’s cheek. His bottom lip trembled more, having little to no control over his emotions anymore. Another tear fell from his eye.

“Th-They d-didn’t make me…b-because they w-wanted a s-son…T-They made me b-because…th-they wanted a m-monster…” He sobbed softly, his entire form vibrating and giving a violent glitch. And though his body was unstable, the creature’s voice remained rather quiet, like a murmur. He almost sounded human.

“Th-They w-want…a v-villain...th-that they can h-hate and f-fear…Th-That’s all they’ve ever w-wanted…f-from the start.” He shook fiercely, anger starting to come back with a vengeance; his voice becoming much harsher and more distorted. “S-So…if th-that’s what they w-want…i-if that’s w-what’ll please them…” He chuckled lightly, another cool tear racing down his face. His sad smirk morphed into a twisted ugly smile. “Th-Then that’s w-what I’ll give them.” He shook his head vigorously, licking at the salty tears over his lips. “N-No more…L-Love is t-truly dead…” He cackled. “F-Fear…” He hummed with bemusement, “is w-what’ll get th-there attention…p-permanently.”

 He pushed himself away from the bars and growled at himself, roughly wiping his eyes free of any more tears before turning on his heel to storm for the exit. Jack almost immediately scrambled to his feet, gripping onto the bars for dear life so he wouldn’t collapse again.

“W-Wait, wait, wait!” He croaked hoarsely, barely having any voice left in him. He reached his arm out through the cell, hoping Anti wouldn’t leave. There was no telling what the demon would do once he left. Hell, Jack still didn’t even know what Henrik’s fate had been!

“An-Anti, please!” He coughed dryly, his shoulders shaking. He was beginning to fall incredibly weak again, his eyes feeling heavy with exhaustion and the temperature of the room was only making it worse. “D-Don’t…” He gave one last attempt, one last plea before his knees gave out; collapsing to the ground and passing out cold.

Anti didn’t bother to look over his shoulder at the Irishman. He didn’t even retort back with a snarky taunting remark of sorts, the closest thing being, “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some unfinished business to attend to.”

He wasn’t his usual self, and Jack had seen it with his own two eyes. It had been a long while since the entity had had a chance to vent out these painful emotions, but he had no time to lock himself away.

No…He couldn’t lock himself away…

But he could take his hurt out on someone else…

Part 9 - No Strings Attached

Part 11 - In Your Head

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