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ittybluebell · 9 months

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Itty Bitty Brains - iZombie g/t fanfic (ao3) | Chapter 1

Atom perhaps hadn’t made the best decisions in life.

Ziiiiiiippp!

But this had to be the worst.

Cold flesh pressed against his side and Atom gagged into his hand, eyes squeezed so tightly shut that stars and colourful, amorphous shapes danced behind their lids. He leaned away, but everything around him jostled and he was forced to endure nothing but close contact with a dead body. He shoved one of his three bags into the space between and clung to it like one might a life raft. Why, for the sake of his last ounce of sanity, was a body bag the best mode of transportation? But it wasn’t like there was anything else around. The body was on the kitchen floor, right next to one of his hidey-holes. All he had to do was cut a thin line through the black plastic, gather up every belonging that mattered, and scurry inside. He may have had a close encounter with a shoe. And also may have eaten shit on the second trip. But he was whole and hale and that was an achievement in and of itself for a borrower; a win was a win.

However - he gagged - that title was very rapidly losing its status.

Giant hands lifted the bag and its - ugh - cargo onto a stretcher. The body wasn’t old enough to smell, but the mere presence of the corpse was enough for the phantom scent of rot to invade his brain. All Atom could do was press his sleeve over his nose and let his mind wander elsewhere. The body right next to him, however, was a pervasive force; his overactive mind was in a losing battle when it kept snapping back to how cold and disgusting his environment was.

Oh, and did he mention fucking disgusting?

The motor was loud and the road was bumpy. He didn’t know where he was going - just away from that house. That was enough. He couldn’t bear another day in that atmosphere: the guilt, the despair, the depression - he just couldn’t do it. Traveling alongside the source was only slightly better. Those empty eyes... the way they stared without seeing, without triggering the alarms in his brain telling him there was a bean... it was unsettling. He’d never been so close to a bean in his life. He half expected the body to reach over and grab him. But it was cold, and lifeless, and that was impossible.

He scooted further away, anxiety swirling in his gut. He glanced at the hole he’d cut into the plastic, assuring himself he wasn’t trapped. He could still move. Atom reached a hand out, mesmerized by the soft light playing over his brown skin.

Wherever he was headed, there was nowhere to go but up. Wherever his parents weren’t was an immediate plus. He’d dipped as soon as he turned twenty, and he never once regretted it in the six years that followed. His only regret was leaving Lima. She’d be gearing up to set out on her own, now. By herself in this massive world. Unless she had a partner, someone she could be there for and someone who would look out for her, in turn. Atom’s next-door neighbours had a son that was Lima’s age, but word around was he was interested in going wild. It was the juiciest gossip in a while and went around like wildfire till every borrower on the street and their third cousin knew it.

Tsk. ‘Wild.’ Why abandon a perfectly good house to scavenge off the streets? Wild borrowers were moronic or insane. Better out there than inside, endangering others, Atom reasoned. The couple at 650 tried to quell the rumours, but they stood no chance against borrowers' collective knack for spreading information. Their Jellian was the taboo bad boy that tempted all the respectable families' rebellious daughters into running off with him. Atom hoped Lima had enough sense to not stick her hand in that trap. His little sister was smart, but god, when she wanted something, she would get it. He had no doubts that if she wanted to become wild, nothing would stop her. But there were so many better guys to choose from than Jellian. Gutter, for example - he was strong and kind and dependable and gorgeous-

Er, not to Atom. Obviously. Atom wouldn’t- he wouldn’t know that. Who’s Gutter? He- not- it’s-

SHOOM.

The van doors. Which meant-

Atom stifled a yelp when the stretcher rattled on its frame. He grabbed his bags and curled on top of them as his world shook and jittered. Wheels hit the pavement and they were on the move. Another door opened and the feel and sound of the ground below changed into something smoother. He heard voices above discussing his fellow passenger. Finally, all motion stopped. Atom crawled off his luggage and peeked out of the incision he'd carved into the plastic.

A large form swished past. Atom flinched back, inhaling sharply. White coat. Lab coat. Scientists.

Fucking fantastic.

Atom was on the side facing the beans. If he wanted out...

Pulling a face, Atom regarded the pale, lifeless bean. “Joy,” he muttered.

He grabbed his luggage by the straps and proceeded to climb over the woman's corpse, complaining every step of the way. He whined internally, trying to make as little skin-to-skin contact as possible. He dry heaved as he stepped over her jugular. He put his hand on the underside of her chin for balance and immediately snapped it back as if he'd been burned. He held it out and away from his own body like it was diseased. "Oh, no. Oh, god. Oh, fuck me, that's so gross." Atom jumped down and fiercely shook himself out like a wet dog. He cringed. "Ew. That is so disgusting. Ugh. I'm gonna vomit."

After several moments of leaning over and taking deep, steadying breaths, he came to the conclusion that he wouldn't vomit. He took his knife and stabbed through the black plastic, dragging it down till the hole was big enough to fit himself and his belongings. He poked his head out, surveying his surroundings. The two beans were busy behind him, talking nonsense in their voices that were far too loud for his liking. He could make it down to the floor and hide under the metal table the beans were working on. Atom crawled out of the body bag and slid down the X-shaped legs of the stretcher. He hopped off the wheel and almost toppled over when the weight of his bags caught up with him and threw him further than he'd intended.

He half-tripped into the cool, dark space beneath the table. Atom collapsed, exhaling pure, giddy relief. Laughter bubbled out of his throat. He made it. He actually made it without being spotted. Wait till he tells everyone about riding in a… body bag…

Atom's smile dropped. There was no one to tell. Who knew how far home was? He didn't know any borrowers here, if there were borrowers here. This place - this was a morgue. Or a place of similar nature. Did he want to live in a morgue? Where there was always death? The very thing he’d moved to escape? A morgue was no house. No one lived here. There wouldn't be forgotten items or stocked cabinets - it wasn't sustainable. And doctors worked in a morgue.

But. But. A morgue was a workplace, which meant he would have some nights entirely to himself. Alone. No beans, no borrowers. Lonely? To someone else, maybe. Not to him. He could listen to his own voice. Just him and his thoughts. No need to worry about the others. Except now he was even further away from Lima and god knows where that van had landed him. But there was no guarantee that he'd never see her again, right? He just needed the morgue's address, a map, and-

He shuddered. A way to travel the streets.

Shoes stomped outside his hiding spot. Atom crept toward the edge, curious. Who were these beans he’d committed himself to? The pale bean - the woman with white hair and skin - she'd almost seen him back home. He never forgot a face, especially one belonging to the person that had nearly turned him into borrower paste. He flipped her a pair of birds. Try it again, beanpole. Atom plotted his next move, taking in the rest of the morgue. It was massive! There were so many tables and carts to hide under. And was that a kitchen? His stomach grumbled. But it was such a long way and he would be running out in the open. He looked at the beans, gnawing on his cheek. He couldn't. It was too big of a risk. The other bean, the one with white sneakers, Atom couldn’t see his face. He was too close. He had a different accent, though. Something lilting that ended his words softly with open vowels. Atom was intrigued. He’d only heard that kind of accent on TV. It was... pleasant?

Atom retreated when a sneaker lurched toward him. His exhale came out in a rush as he gripped his sleeves to soothe himself. Alright, Atom, how are you gonna wiggle your way out of this one? He spied a desk, low to the ground, across the room. It sat against a half wall, the kitchen and freedom on the other side. If he could get to that desk, he'd be set. Kitchen was always the best starting point. Getting there, however, was gonna be a test of patience or sheer dumb luck. How long could Atom wait, and how long was he willing to wait? Feasibly, he could wait till his rations ran out. Realistically? Twenty minutes, max. And even that was being generous - he couldn't guess the time to save his life.

Atom sat against his bags. He folded his arms. He closed his eyes.

It must've been an hour - read: four minutes - before the anxious itching of I need to do something became unbearable. Atom's cheeks were a chewed mess and the speed at which his leg bounced could've powered an electric fan. Atom slung one bag over his backpack and the other across his chest.

Most actions in Atom's life could be chalked up to one simple phrase.

And that phrase was Fuck it.

"Fuck it," Atom declared.

He ran for the desk.

Voices droned above - they were making plans for lunch - and served as a late warning system for Atom: if the conversation cut off, Atom knew he was fucked. The tingling heat on the back of his neck was ever-present, blaring out the obvious that there were humans very close so watch out. His senses weren't any help right now; 'The Borrower That Cried Bean' kind of deal.

Atom's heart couldn't beat harder if it tried. He was used to prolonged physical feats; this distance was nothing. He could handle that. What he couldn't handle was the fact that at any moment- actually, the adrenaline rush was kind of excit-

No! Stop that. Being seen is not a rush! That was exactly the kind of thinking that gets a borrower snatched. Atom was smarter than that. Atom wouldn't be another cautionary tale. He wouldn't be a nameless victim. He wouldn't be responsible for revealing their race.

He wouldn't be mourned.

Arms pumped. Legs pushed. His face was hot.

Breathe.

Focus on the goal. Don't look back. Never look back.

Breathe.

It was all about the breath. Measured, even, full. A borrower could walk for ages and jog nearly as long. A sprint, however, had a much shorter lifespan. While he could handle the distance, the speed was something he just could not keep up.

BREATHE.

When Atom reached the desk, he tripped and sprawled across the floor, wheezing. He pressed his burning cheek to the cool floor, dust be damned, and laid there, chest heaving. His legs ached. His head ached. His lungs ached. God, what didn't ache?

This looked less and less like a win with every development.

#itty bitty brains fic #my writing #i'm finally posting it on tumblr haha #pls shoot me out of a canon why is updating this so HARDD #izombie #izombie gt #izombie g/t #g/t #giant/tiny #giant tiny #the borrowers #borrowers #izombie fic #fanfic #ao3 fanfic #writing #fanfiction

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ittybluebell · 9 months

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Itty Bitty Brains - iZombie g/t fanfic (ao3) | Chapter 2

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The beans that worked here were fucking weird.

It'd been a day since Atom had moved in. He'd gotten good borrowings in the night - food, building supplies, etc - and alternated between working and sleeping during the day. He was constructing a lean-to out of cardboard and a Tupperware lid when the sounds of conversation had him pausing to listen in.

"... brain's made... into some kind of astrology nut... There's just... constantly in my head... understand the world better, but at the same time, it's the greatest mystery that I can't wait to solve."

"Right, well," said another voice, one Atom hadn't heard before, "why don't you focus on solving our mystery? You know, the murdered woman whose brain you turned into a hot pocket."

"It's called a calzone, Clive. And yeah, I got it - no pondering the meaning of life as we know it and how everything is somehow connected but not at the same time and- yes, I'm completely focused. I promise."

"Good," said 'Clive.' "Because we're going to interview the widow again. She gave us what she could, but her wife was just murdered - she was barely coherent. I'm hoping that today we can get some information about the break-in. Come on - let's go."

And they were gone, leaving Atom utterly flabbergasted with his jaw hanging and his eyes bulging. She ate... no. No way. Mm-mm. Atom was not living with cannibals. That human bean did not eat-

Oh, he was going to be sick. Just thinking about- nope. Nuh-uh. He was gonna puke. No more thinking about it. Just ignore it and move on. They were not talking about eating brains because that was- that was disgusting. Nobody did that. Nobody ate people and just casually brought it up like the weather. Atom remembered the sound of food being prepared and thrown in the toaster oven. He remembered the tantalizing smell when it came out, how it made his mouth water and his stomach growl something fierce. If that was brains-

Oh, good lord.

Atom made it a few paces away from his campsite before he emptied his guts onto the floor. He heaved and coughed, shuddering as saliva and the taste of bile filled his mouth. He spat and wiped his mouth, hoping that was the end of it, when his mind flashed back to the scent of bread and cheese and fle-

"HRGH."

Oh, yeah. That was gonna fuck him up for a few days.

Night came. Atom found himself several unopened packages of needles in a drawer that was cracked open enough for him to slip inside. He broke one out of its packaging and hefted its weight. It was perfect. The bright green end fit into his palm like it belonged there. He slid the metal into a loop on his pants and the needle sat on his hip like a knight's sword. There was a hop to his stride for the rest of the night, his pride and excitement leading him to nearly skip across the linoleum. He collected other bits and baubles, but nothing compared to the needle. The weight on his hip solidified his place there, giving him some sense of belonging. The dry pasta and staples came close, but they didn't have the same oomph. He had a sword; a symbol of his independence and self-sufficiency. How could he know fear when he wielded such a weapon?

The lights flicked on.

Evidently, Atom still knew fear.

He threw himself under the desk. The pasta shell he'd been carrying clattered to the floor. He swore under his breath, trying to catch a glimpse of the intruding human bean. Pasta didn't belong in an office. If he could just scooch a liiiittle closer...

Footsteps. A sigh from a man. The examiner? 'Clive'? Someone else? Who came into a morgue this late? Wasn't there bad juju around morgues? Fear of bodies coming to life? Ghosts? Just leave! Only the dead and things that go bump in the night belong in a morgue at this hour.

Massive legs swept into Atom's vision. Oh, of course the bean was coming into the office. Of course. Why not? Go make yourself a cup of tea, while you're at it! The human stomped closer. Atom shrunk in on himself, swallowing harshly. I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. The shoes stopped dead in front of him. Atom felt like breaking into tears.

Two giant fingers pinched the pasta shell and picked it up. There was another sigh from above. Atom held his breath. Something cold and paralyzing settled in the pit of his stomach. He couldn't move, could barely breathe.

"Liv," the bean said, annoyed. He rounded the desk and settled in the chair. The single piece of conchiglie made several bouncing clacks as it landed on the wood above. Atom slowly and shakily exhaled into his hand. He turned around, coming face-to-face with a pair of shoes crossed at the ankle and a chair wheel.

"Holy shit," Atom said, closer to a gust of air than words.

The bean muttered to himself as he typed on his keyboard and flipped through pages. The sounds of pen scratching paper and clothes rustling were too loud in Atom's ears, challenged only by the thud of his own heartbeat. Atom had to remind himself that no, the human bean could not possibly hear it.

Atom began to rise, only to freeze when the bean shifted. The shoes swapped places, crossing again at the ankle. Atom pushed himself the rest of the way up. He eyed the doorway. Should he risk it or stay here? The bean was doing paperwork. But he might notice something small moving in his peripherals. Beans were hunters, after all. Atom had a greater chance of going unseen if he stayed put, out of the way. Right under the giant man's nose.

"Cause of death," he heard the human bean mutter, "stab... wound... to left lung."

That gave Atom pause. Of course he was going over Jenny's medical report. There were no other recent bodies.

"Wife found her in the morning," the man said. "Window was jimmied open, money and phone were missing. Robbery gone murderous. Knife was a weapon of opportunity. Unfortunately, there were no cameras to capture the break-in. Which means it's going to be almost impossible to track the killer down without Liv's visions."

Visions? Did she have superpowers? From eat- nope, not going there.

But they were looking for the killer? Atom frowned. He remembered that evening very clearly. He could recall every detail as if watching it play out again. He'd peeked out from behind the painting, and then it happened. And he was horrified. He couldn't remain in that house, not after what he'd seen. He was near suffocating in its atmosphere. Leaving was the best option, which he still stood by. Kind of. Okay, so maybe not - the cannibalism and 'visions' bullshit was really making him regret that decision.

"But if the robber was wearing a mask, which they were unless they're an idiot..." The bean groaned and scrubbed his face. "We're back to square one."

Goddammit. Something inside of Atom ached. Something righteous that screamed 'You know! You can help!' and urged him to tell someone. He knew what happened. He saw the whole thing. But what could he do? He was a borrower. He couldn't reveal himself - purge the very idea! Could he leave a clue? But then they would wonder who and go looking for him. He couldn't help. He wouldn't risk his people, his family, his life for one measly bean and some 'righteous feeling.' He was frustrated, not suicidal.

"Get over yourself," Atom growled, combing through his hair and catching knots. He pulled at them, untangling untameable curls. He'd done it since he was a child and was unable to cull the habit. His mother discouraged it, so he learned not to do it in front of her. It was calming, in a way. It helped in the same way that playing with his sleeves or a tool cleared his head.

Atom sat. He would wait for the bean to finish up. There was no reason to put himself at unnecessary risk. He leaned against the metal leg and closed his eyes, listening to the mumbled ramblings of the human. He mostly spoke of the mystery around Jenny's death, but he did mention cures (for what?) and rats.

That gave Atom a start. There were rats here? Of course there were. Because there wasn't enough for Atom to worry about already - the universe just had to add rats.

Rats were borrowers' number one enemy. Rats killed indiscriminately, destroyed homes - families - and encouraged humans to hire exterminators. Then came the traps and poison and cages that forced borrowers to flee their homes or risk death, or worse, discovery. Atom had to move. Again. Any day now, the pest control van would roll in and they'd start spewing fumes and setting up their bone-breaking traps.

"Oh, shit, I forgot to feed you guys tonight," the bean said.

Atom watched the skyscraper of a man go off to the back room. And then he heard eager squeaking. Realization dawned on him. They're pet rats. Lab rats. Relief flooded his body. Well, that changed everything. He didn't have to move.

Atom's head shot up. I need to move. Now! While the bean was occupied. Atom scrambled to his feet and wasted no time sprinting out of the office. He craned his neck to see into the back room. The medical examiner wasn't visible, but the popping of a plastic lid was plenty enough to place him there.

Atom made it back to the safety of the walls without further issue. He melted into his sleeping bag, deflating with a massive sigh and an adrenaline-fueled laugh. That's enough excitement for tonight, he thought.

In the morning, Atom stood atop the very desk that saved his hide last night. Every instinct in his being told him this was a horrible idea and what was he thinking? But he couldn't take it. His own guilt, knowing he could help out but just stood by and did nothing, was overpowering. There was a thrill in being out in the open during the day. His nerves were shot and his hands trembled so badly that he missed his hook throw the first two times, but he couldn't deny the exhilaration that he felt. The forbidden nature gave him a rush like no other.

Atom struggled to hold the pen upright. He wrapped his arms around it in a tight embrace and used his whole body to guide the ink, dragging the pen across the page as he walked. Finished, he rolled the pen back to its original spot. He gave a satisfied nod and proceeded to climb down to the floor, but not before grabbing a paperclip and sticky note. With a sharp yank of his shoulder, the hook came loose and fell into his waiting hand. The sharp point was a hair shy of slicing open his arm. It was a serious risk, injuring yourself with your own hook - you had to know which angles were safe to catch it and which ones were best to just let it hit the floor, even at the risk of making noise. Atom didn't like to risk it, but today felt different. He felt different.

Atom wound up the rope as he jogged back to the kitchen. It was a quick in-and-out errand - go, leave the message, come back. He was riding a high, but he didn't expect it to last long. And his luck wasn't something to be tested. Not like this. He got away with too much lately - his luck was bound to come crashing down around him. And he didn't want to be out in the open when it did.

"Liv! I got the... coffees. Right, then. I'll just leave yours here! For when you get back."

Fuck.

Atom's heart dropped to his stomach. The doctor was here. Atom knew he shouldn't be out in the daytime and he went and did it anyway! What the hell did he do now? He was gonna be seen and captured and dissected and-

Hide! I need to hide. Atom whipped around, searching. Shit shit shit shit. He was stuck in the middle of the floor. But the fridge was right there. Would he make it?

He had to try.

Atom made a break for it. His breath came in great, terrified puffs. His heart pounded louder than the bean's footsteps, beating so much faster than own footfalls. His jaw clenched. Hard. Hard enough to make his teeth ache. His neck prickled furiously, instincts yelling at him to find cover. There were eyes looking for him. A human was too close. He wasn't safe.

Just a bit closer. He was almost there!

"What-" started the doctor's voice.

Atom dropped like a hot stone. He slid across the linoleum, leaving a trail in the dust under the fridge. His chest heaved, sweat damp on his face and back. He laid on his back for a few more moments, basking in the cool air that felt so good on his burning hot skin.

The bean didn't see him. He was alright. Everything was alright.

The bean was in his office. He got the note, if the phone call in the other room was any indication. Atom got away with it. But that was too close. He'd only been here for two days and already had two close encounters with the one human bean. He had to be far more careful from now on; a third save was asking too much. He needed tunnels and a proper home. With all the staples and thumbtacks and pins he'd collected, he felt confident in his ability to make a ladder to the ceiling.

After his heart stopped beating out of his chest, though. A couple more minutes here. 'Here' was nice and cool. Yeah. A nap couldn't hurt, either.

Hours later, Atom had himself a functional stairway up to the ceiling. It was precarious and he'd feel more comfortable with an elevator, but he didn't have those kinds of materials yet. There was an upstairs to this place that he wanted to explore. It was a police station, right? Who knew what sorts of goodies they kept up there. Rulers and snacks and tape and pencils... oh, it would be glorious, he could already tell. His only greater wish was for a craft store next door.

The beans knew about his note. The medical examiner told his friends about the tip that was mysteriously left in his office by someone "With just awful penmanship. I mean, it's like a six-year-old broke into my office and scribbled on my work."

Yeah, screw you, too, buddy. You try writing with a pen bigger than your body.

Liv and Clive were following up on Atom's tip. It probably wouldn't lead to anything without proof, but at least he tried. It satisfied his desire to share his knowledge and that's all that mattered. Not solving the actual murder. Why would he care about what happened to beans? He'd only lived in Jenny and Sara's home for... seven years.

Shit. Maybe he did care.

No. Humans were tyrants with no regard for others. They would kill or torture or sell borrowers if they got their giant hands on one. He couldn't be sympathetic. He couldn't afford sympathy for beans. Just like he couldn't afford sympathy for a rat or raccoon. No, he didn't care about Jenny or Sara. What a ridiculous notion. Atom shook his head as he pulled himself onto the final thumbtack, curly hair flopping around him. He climbed over a wood beam and examined the dark, dusty space that laid above the ceiling. There were cobwebs everywhere - all of them vacant and perfect for sewing and building. Atom rubbed his hands together. Yes, this would do nicely. He just needed that elevator and construction could begin.

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