#read my tiny writing

[technovillain]

me when i write all over a canvas instead of typing for some reason. lobotoly timeline thoughts.

[radioactive-earthshine]

NGL I have STRONG opinions about digital releases omitting the letters to the editor section of older comics. I feel like the letters are a part of comic history and should be aggressively preserved.

[army-of-bee-assassins]

it's been said before and i'll say it again: image descriptions are not meant to be added later by other people. they are meant to be written by op and included within the op.

[averlym]

fairest of the fair

[zoreldanvers]

#tfw you're the child of the goddess of wisdom and therefore a chronic overthinker but also dyslexic but also a desperate people pleaser but also you're twelve and have no supervision and 200 dollars to buy candy

[i-am-beckyu]

In the Hands of my Tormentor

Yelloooooo! Been a lil bit since I've posted any writing! Been a bit hard getting much written with life and work at the moment but I had this random g/t thought and ran with it to get this lil fic. So enjoy another random oc created for the purpose of this fic lol.

Premise: You've been transported to another world where giants see humans as lesser and have ended up the pet of a Count.

cw: Fear, fear of death, fatal scenes mentioned, panic, mentions of being eaten alive, death mentions (no one dies tho), anxiety, torture, manipulation. Just the opposite of what I usually post lol. wc: 2318

Terror. 

That’s all I could feel as I watched in horror as the giant noble scarfed down their meal. Giant fangs tearing through meat 100x my size, as if it was sliced bread. I forced myself to not react as I heard them swallow, knowing full well should they tire of me- their pet, I may very well be the next one sliding down that wretch’s throat. 

In this world, Giants didn’t see anything smaller than them as intelligent. If you were found, the lucky ones either died or were crushed between teeth as big as boulders like food. And if you think ‘How’s that lucky?! That’s horrid!’ Be glad you’re not the one being digested alive.

But even that was a mercy compared to my fate. 

Every day I tread the thin line of a tightrope; a timer hanging over my head. Forced to live life as a performance, every step perfect in order to please my Master.

“TWIRL!” He’d demand.

“JUMP!” He’d spit.

“SING!” He’d sneer- and I’d do it without hesitation or face death itself.

For as humiliating as it was, being ‘keep’ worthy; even for a derogatory laugh, it was better than being deemed useless and ready for brutal discarding. And with how little manic glee he’d been having with me lately, that may be sooner than not. For if I have no worth, what’s stopping them from doing away with me?

Tonight I was on display at another one of their dinner parties. Parties they threw more to show their class standing and possessions than for company. Sometimes I’d be in a cage forced to sing like a songbird, other times I’d be kept on the table with a ribbon clamped around my ankle to perform tricks or be petted by gloved fingers.

The guests would often have varying responses at my presence.

“Such a rare delicacy humans are and you're wasting it as a pet?”

“What a wretched little thing it is. Why not just eat it and be done?”

“As amusing as it is, why keep it around when it’s a better snack?”

After a while, you learn to tune out the loud voices. It’s just a reminder I’m only seen as food, insignificant, a pest. I only listen to the Master's voice. He’s the only one that matters. I sit just to his right today. The ribbon on my ankle is too tight, and I can feel the way my foot has started to go numb from the lack of blood flow. I look at it absentmindedly, the phantom pain of a blade forced against an angry scar, throbs against the ribbon. Strange I can’t feel my foot and yet still feel the pain of past escapes. I stopped trying a long time ago. Better to submit then endure his sick pleasures again.

I try not to think about the will I’ve given up; the life I’ve submitted to and try to listen to the giants conversing overhead.

Had it not been for the size difference and ignorance to the obvious, the giants were just like us. Take away all the power-hungry madness and torture of the little guy and the giants were just like humans if they were living in a medieval fantasy. Perhaps in another world, I would have been one of the guests…

“Dance, Human.” Master demands, and I stand and let my body move the way I know it pleases the giant. I don’t even think about the steps anymore, I just let myself move as if I were a robot programmed with the steps.

The giants above me laugh, clap and snicker. I know I’ve done my dance right. They’re all talking around the table, some whispering to each other with cruel gazes locked on my form. Others are spitting profanities at me and joking to my Master about making me do more tricks. 

There was only one giant that didn’t seem interested in my suffering. They sat at the opposite end of the table silently, and hadn’t moved much beyond drinking from their cup. I didn’t pay them much mind. One less giant drooling over me was a blessing. 

I let their voices blend together as I continued to move, the only voice I was listening for was my Masters, and I knew he was grinning ear to ear with all the attention on his greatest possession. 

His rare and desirable human.

“Now sing.” He says sickeningly sweet and my mouth obeys as I sing old scales used to warm up my voice whilst I continue to dance.

He never said I could stop.

I don’t know how long this continued for, the time always blurred together with every order and step at these events. All I know is the giants are enjoying it for the time being and all hungry eyes are on me. I will do as they want till I’m so desirable, that Master snatches me away- just teasing the lessers with what they can’t have. I can see the manic glee in their eyes at being so close to myself. I know what they want, and I scold my expression to not let the fear show on my face. 

My legs ached, but I pushed on; my voice wasting away from overuse. Everything was starting to burn from the effort it took to do both. I sang a long high note and began to spin, a bad combo but my brain was on autopilot. How much longer till I collapse?

“Stop.” Master demanded; my saving grace but not by much. I stopped immediately, finishing the pirouette and ceasing my song. I didn’t dare move despite my labored breathing, fully aware that the command wasn’t just for me, for in the corner of my eye I saw it. 

An outstretched white, gloved hand reached for me- and it was not my Masters.

That was all that was said before the ribbon around my ankle yanked me back, sending me tumbling forward as I was reeled in. I kept my head down, biting my tongue to stop myself from screaming as I felt the glazed wooden table burn against my hands and knees as I was dragged. My performance was done. And so was the fool of a giant that had tried to take me. 

Or so I thought.

Giants had tried to take me from Master before that was a given, but I was his snack (as he liked to remind me) and those that had tried to take what was his, had been dragged out shrieking. But this one had the room silent. Someone with a demanding presence other than my Master had the room freeze.

“So Ed,” 

“That’s Count Edwin, to you.” Master spat at the other Giant.

“May I remind you who the Duke is here, Count Edwin.” the Duke replied nonchalantly, taking a sip of his drink. I saw the way the Master's hand tensed at the notion. 

He was irritated. 

Very few had the nerve to undermine him and make it out unscathed. So far nothing had happened to this Duke, which made him a threat.

“I understand you invited me here tonight to make a deal.” The Duke asked.

“Yes, that’s correct.” The grit in the Master's voice confirmed my suspicions. He’d interrupted his showing off. They were treading on thin ice. 

“I wish to put a natural water irrigation system to my crops from the south river. The river in question however, borders the edge of your land and in order for me to utilize it, would require access to your land.”

“And you want me to allow your filthy hands access to my river.” The Duke remarked.

Master's hand tightened on his utensils. Whoever this man was really had the Giant getting into a tizzy, which was never good for me. For all the time that I’d been here, it was very rare that anyone dared to go up against Master, let alone insult him. I felt a slight sense of justice from the thought. Even if it would never be me to do it, at least someone would knock them off their high horse.

I couldn’t help but glance up to see what such a person looked like and was surprised by what I saw. It was the uninterested giant from before.

Just like their attitude, the Giants' features matched their blunt, cold attitude. Jet black, side swept hair and dressed in a navy blue velvet coat, adorned with gold trims and fine sapphires bigger than my head, the Duke- the most regal man I’d ever seen in all my life, was listening to my Master with an icy cold stone stare. 

The man seemed bored of this tedious exchange and I could tell their patience was beginning to run thin as my Master blabbered on and on about the Giants river.

I wondered how long the fire would build behind the Duke’s eyes before their tolerance met its peak, and would put my Master in their place. For once I was glad they paid me no mind.

“I have much gold to offer in return for the river and with the greater yields we would produce, I’m happy to offer 5% of the total harvest.” Master’s smile curled into a grin as they folded their hands. They did that whenever something they wanted was about to go their way.

I averted my gaze back to my feet at this. They always got mad when they caught me staring. How sad I knew what his tells were.

“While your offer is good Edwin, as a Duke with the amount of land I have, your offer is insignificant to me. Why give you access to my river when I produce five times the amount you yield in a year?”

Master lost his composure at that, clearly not expecting such a response. Unsurprising when he acts like a toddler who has never been told no. “Well yes but-” 

“If you expect me to share such a precious resource, I expect a greater sum.” The Duke cut him off. “Or an offer with something of rarity to actually compensate for the price. Something like…” 

No. No, he can’t mean…

The duke took a sip from his cup as if contemplating, but only a fool didn’t know he’d already made up his mind the second he set eyes on me.

“That human.”

The Duke slammed the cup down, hitting the table with a clink as my head shot up and snapped straight to the Duke, my worst fears confirmed reality. The Duke’s ice blue eyes bore into my small figure. If I thought my grubby Master was scary then the Duke was sheer terror. 

His eyes pierced my very soul pinning me in place, and I stared straight back, unable to hide the terror on my face despite the consequences. Though it could have just been adrenaline, I swear I saw their eyes soften when they noticed my expression change, though it did little to put me at ease. His presence was terrifying and it hit me then why the room was so quiet. Why Master was so mad he had no control over this Giant.

This was a man with power.

I knew if I was what it wanted, then no one would be stupid enough to say no twice. Everyone in the room knew what his eyes were locked on. 

“You want me to trade my human, for access to the river?” The Count replied as he dragged me closer, pulling me away from my terror. “That hardly seems fair seeing how incredibly rare and delightful they are. It’s just about bored me enough that I'm peckish. I love to break their spirits just enough that they’re kicking and screaming to the end.” 

At this, I was flung into the air with a yelp before the Count caught me in a harsh grip. I cried out in pain as he squeezed my ribs tight to the point I was sure they’d break.

“It would be a waste to let all this time go to not enjoy them myself.”

“It’s the human or nothing.” The Duke insisted. “You have nothing more that I want.”

I risked looking up at the Duke again, the fire in his eyes seemed to have tripled. “It’s as you said, humans are incredibly rare. Are they truly worth a yearly supply of better income?”

My Masters hand began to squeeze tighter around me and I’m only lucky that the air had been forced out of my lungs enough before I could scream. His anger being directed on the only thing he could control in the moment, only for the pressure to leave as quickly as it came and I found myself falling.

“Deal.” 

And that was the only warning I had before everything flashed a violent white. My whole body was in complete and utter agony and yet I couldn’t even scream. I could feel silent tears dripping down my face as my vision began to dance with black blurry spots. This is where I died.

Everything felt cold, until it wasn’t. 

I felt myself engulfed in pure warmth as careful hands moved and cradled my broken body. I could hear muffled voices shouting and moving before the slamming of a door ceased all else. Dark blobs broke in between the black and I knew deep down I was in the Duke’s hands, but the soft warmth they provided blurred all other judgment. I hadn’t been warm- truly warm since I’d been brought here, and yet somehow I was now at ease. 

Perhaps it was just my mind twisting the truth as a last mercy to let me die peacefully.

“Rest now,” A voice whispered over head as the world faded to black. “I’ve got you now.” 

Funny how my mind could create such a promise after so much pain…

✩₊˚.⋆⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆⋆⁺₊✧

Don't worry, the Duke's actually the good guy in this lol. I have it head cannoned that he fixes them all up and helps them get home.

I may write onto this, I might not who knows! The fact I've written in a different pov to me is wild though! Thank you to squishy, xyz and especially munchkin for beta reading this. (Seriously savior on my grammar qwp) Thank you if you read this far and I hope you enjoyed!!!!

Tag List Link here: @local-squishmallow @brick-a-doodle-do @justarandomsloth @veryfunkycheesecake @munchkin1156 @kayla-crazy-stuffs @da3dm @eiscreme135 @orchid-harmony @the-tiny-lurker @colossal-red @nobodywritingao3 @nata2343 @bad-author777 @crazyfoxgirl10 @guppybubbles

(also side note: other wips are still being written. I am aware JORNOS has not updated in months but it's not been forgotten <3)

[bleaksqueak]

Okay, if you like fromsoft games or love bloodborne/love a challenge/love horror juxtaposed against endearing whimsy, please check out Lies of P.

The part of me that couldn't stop laughing at the game's name and the concept of "Edgelord Pinnochio Bloodborne Clone" can no longer fathom thinking of the game as anything other than "AMAZING!!!!!!! SO GOOD!!!!!!!! THAT TEAM SHOULD BE SO PROUD!!!! WHAT AN ASTONISHING CREATIVE ACHIEVEMENT!!!" I already knew I was on the "i'd recommend this to anyone who likes these types of games or wants to try them" team, but now that is 10000% And even better, it has filled me with so much art inspiration after exploring its world and collecting beautifully designed costumes. The world building/world design is so, so so so very actualized and charming.

[holocene-sims]

next // previous

august 25, 2021 10:00 p.m. good luck arcade

✨🎵 wannabe! 🎵✨

[coffehbeans]

Prompts 35 and 70: Sleepover and Snacks

Masterpost of Stories (92 Prompts)

Talking about fluffy g/t scenarios turned into angst, have my writing after two months of nothing ashaush featuring characters from this future story that I hope to turn into a book one day.

As always, feedback appreciated! This one was challenging with the dialogues and I'm not a native English speaker, so if something's unnatural, please lemme know.

Synopsis: After losing most of his friends when he got diagnosed with hyperon syndrome, Ethan relies on the two that haven't left his side. But a relaxing sleepover turned-wrong puts their friendship to the test.

.....................................

Nothing had to change. That's what Ethan thought when he returned to university, one week after being diagnosed. Yeah, he did have twenty-or-so less friends than usual, after growing four feet in a week and all that, but who wouldn't? People with hyperon were feared, that's a natural reaction. He used to fear them before as well. Before he started to become one of them. There's a stinging pain that pang in his chest sometimes, though. It happened every day when the class ended. Ethan yawned as the class ended, shaking off his sleepiness. He sat on the floor, as he could not fit in a chair, and took notes in a tiny, to him, notebook as he left the brown curls of his hair cover his face and shield him away from the others' gazes. He waited for all the students to leave, focusing his hazel eyes on his lecture notes. It's best this way. He never was the tallest before the mutation, so he used to be one of the first to leave class with friends, but now... It felt too weird. Too much, he realized, as his presence was enough to scare people, since he loomed over everyone, covering them with his shadow. That feeling, of accidentally intimidating someone... He hated it. So it was best to wait for all of them to leave.

…

When the teacher dismissed them, Ethan sprung up from his seat after diligently taking notes of constitutional law class. He'd be a great public defender after all, his scores had to be top notch. Forgetting all about it for now, he rushed to one of his friends, patting him on his shoulder. "Let's grab a bite to eat, I'm starving!" His friend chuckled while the others joined in. "Finally someone got their ass out of the seat." "We had to wait ten minutes this time." another friend groaned, but her smile showed the complaint wasn't serious. "Quick, let's get him outta here before he decides to ask the teacher something." Another friend said as he shoved Ethan towards the door." "H-hey! I'm not gonna ask anything! Not this time, at least." He chuckled. And the group of friends walked together to the food hall, telling whatever came up in their minds.

… Ethan glanced up at those same friends, taking his eyes out of the notebook. ‘Amanda, Carson, Thomas...’ Through that moment frozen in time, their eyes met. Ethan put on a friendly smile and waved at them. Those three darted their gaze away, rushing through the crowd of students and out of the classroom. Ethan's wave froze in place, and he slowly retracted them back, heart sinking. His smile waned. ‘It's okay.' he thought. 'They're scared. It's normal that they'd be.' But still... Yeah. Ethan couldn't figure out a way for this to stop hurting. Ignoring the familiar pain, he got up, the ground getting far away under his feet as he rose to his full 12 feet stature. Was the ground even further this time? Has he grown again since yesterday? Probably. He won't think about it. Ethan was an imposing-looking man. After being diagnosed, his physique changed, along with his stature, in order to adapt to the increased mass. Naturally, he got stronger. Ethan already had an athletic build before, being part of the basketball team and all that. But now? It was too much. He was too much and he hated every part of it. Even hiding his body under his clothes, he still looked as bulky and broad as a heavylifter, the countour of his prominent muscles hinted beneath the cloth. And although his square face remained the same with his friendly, round eyes and his charming smile, the sheer thickness of his neck contrasted with his amicable expression. In short, although Ethan hasn't changed his personality at all, and he knew of this fact, it clashed so heavily with his new, intimidating body that most people preferred to not give him the benefit of the doubt. Ethan could understand that, he's been avoiding the mirror for a good few days now. And the added feet in height didn't help. In fact, the extra inches would not stop anytime soon.

Ethan ducked through the ten feet tall classroom door. The university prepared a pretty big door for him, but he saw himself having to duck more and more through the doorframe as days pass. He walked through the college corridors, looking at the ground and watching his step. From the corner of his eye, he spotted a few scared or shocked faces turn to him only to walk further away, ‘away from the monster’, he supposed. 'I'll get used to this.' He repeated this mantra in his head, over and over, but it was getting harder and harder to believe in it. Ethan took slow steps, one at a time, hands in his hoodie pockets. Heel first, then the rest of the foot, one after the other. He continued those steps until he reached the food hall. As he entered it, some tables turned empty when people fled in silence upon seeing his towering form, taller than a garage door. Sure, he could understand their reasoning. But really, do they think he's a high school bully that will crush their skulls if they don't lend him a seat, or something? Whatever. He won't stay long in there, anyway. He doesn't want to bother people. Last time he ate at the food hall, only nine feet back then, people would gawk at him when he ate his mountain of food. To call that experience uncomfortable was an understatement. Every day has been an embarrassing experience. His thoughts were, thankfully, cut short when Ethan saw two familiar faces. They waved at him, and he smiled back at then. At least he had Zora and Seb. Seb treated Ethan the same. He assured Ethan, again and again after he met Ethan at his new stature, that he was not scared. But the plump brunette also acted the part, remaining relaxed, hands in pockets as he addressed Ethan with the same chill look he always had. Seb had to look much, much more up at him now but, other than that, nothing changed, and Ethan's size wouldn't provoke a gasp of fear from his friend. He appreciated that. He really did.

Zora treated Ethan the same. But her case happened a bit differently. Well, it's fair she'd react the way she did: curious. The long haired Biotechnology student had a instigative nature. Zora asked him questions if she saw Ethan was comfortable to answer then, about how it felt to have the worldwide-feared hyperon syndrome, and if he got injured during his growth spurts. But aside from that, no flinch, no jolt, no trembling at his sight. On the contrary, she'd remain short tempered, climbing the big guy to yell at his face: "stop hating yourself, you dumbass", whenever Ethan distanced himself from them out of insecurity. When she scolded him, it looked way more comical than it should've been, as her 5 feet stature in comparison to his 12 feet one caused the size difference between the two friends to be the most extreme. Zora made Ethan feel too tall, but at the same time, it was as if nothing had changed between their friendship.

They really cared. "Hey." Zora called for Ethan in the distance. "How's it going?" Seb's much quieter voice followed. Both him and Zora got up, walking towards Ethan with no hesitation at all. "Hey guys." Ethan flashed his signature dimpled smile. One he used to show all the time to everyone. One he only shows now to these two. He appreciated them more than his "thanks" could ever achieve to say. Ethan wished for their friendship to remain like this, the same before the syndrome, the same after. They were the only friends left. And that's all he needed.

...

  "You guys should swing by my place tomorrow." - Zora started after they met up and left the food hall, to Ethan's relief. The outside part of the campus was open, not cramped, and he appreciated the lack of scared eyes. Even though the sight of him walking way slower than his two friends, who barely measured up to his thigh, looked strange to random bystanders. "Ya know, seizing the moment and all that. You should totally come." "It's midterms though. Why now?" Seb, the introvert, chimed in. "Ugh, don't be a buzzkill. Besides, I just got the PS6 and I need some test subjects." "What time will it be?” Seb changed his mind in an instant. The latest game console with the best graphics. No way he'd miss that. "What about you, Ethan? Friday night at my place?" Ethan came back from spacing out, stopping mid-yawning, and looked down, way down at Zora's short stature. He's spacing out a lot, he noticed. Maybe because that conversation reminded him of when he had something to do every week, going out to party and de stress after a stressful college test week at his Law major. He'd go to different houses, from different friends, or they'd all hang out together, Seb and Zora included. Drink, eat good stuff, dance. Ethan would talk to people until his throat went dry and he'd quench his thirst with beer untill he'd forget it all. As if he needed any drinks to be talkative, always laughing and bringing people along the conversation with his stories. People used to call him "life of the party" and he'd proudly admit it as true.

"Look who it is!" "If it isn't my best buddy Ethan!" He came running to them and tackled one of his friends in an aggressive hug.

"Aw, you miss me way too much, man!" "How was the game today?" "Scored." Him and his group of friends cheered in unison. "But wait, hear me out. You guys won't believe what happened till that match." And Ethan went on and on, while the friends who also played that basketball match added some details to the story. The rest of the group laughed in unison at the random antics Ethan told. … That's usually how Ethan would arrive at the place. Looking at himself now, he barely recognized himself. That confident, outspoken guy turned aloof and often quiet, his mind always drifting somewhere else, towards anywhere but the reality. "Hey! Earth to Ethan!" He blinked and looked down, way down at Zora. "Right. Um, sorry. Friday night at your place? Can't make it." "Why not?" Seb and Zora asked in unison, the latter raising an eyebrow. "Well, it's your house. Ceilings are low, all that. I don't wanna accidentally break stuff." He let out a lame chuckle. "Dude, seriously? You don't remember Zora's place?" "Yeah that's right. My house could fit two of you on top of eachother!" Zora teased as she pointed at Ethan. Ethan winced. House was an understatement, that place was a mansion. Ethan always was terrible at coming up with excuses, and now he had no more of them. "I don't know, guys. I just don't think it's safe." Seb sighed and looked to his side, while Zora groaned at Ethan. "Oh c'mon, we don't have all the time in the world. What if we won't get to hang out like this anymore? Carpe diem and all that, you know?" "Though 'carpe diem' at my house doing nothing sounds just as good." - Seb added. Zora nudged him to shut up, earning a laugh from their much taller friend. 'Zora's right', Ethan thought. He knew too well the weight of those words. Every day that passed, he felt new pain under his skin, in his muscles, his joints. And when he felt pain, he knew he'd gotten taller. And stronger. And broader. And too big and intimidating for his taste. The city got less and less adequate for him by the day, and Ethan knew that soon he would not be allowed inside the safe borders of Steelfort anymore.

And that soon he'd be as big as the other 130-feet-tall, unfortunate souls, that also got cursed with the blasted syndrome and that now roamed the wastelands outside of the city bounds. 'One month before they scort you out.' One month. His doctor's words echoed in his head. "I mean, that'd be great, I really think so. But..." - Ethan paused when he heard his voice too loud again. He can't get used to the deeper tone of voice coming from his mouth. He turned towards Zora as she cocked an eyebrow at him  "I reaaally don't want to stomp around and accidentally break stuff at your house." "Cut the crap, Ethan." - Zora snorted. - "You're probably the most careful mutant in this town." "Maybe even the most careful in America." - Seb said. - "Remember that time when we saw him walking down the corridor and someone tripped next to him, and he apologized over and over thinking it was him who made her fall?" Zora chuckled. "The girl was at the opposite side of the corridor, and even then you somehow still thought you stomped too hard or something. Honestly, Ethan, you're just a big softie." Ethan chuckled. How could he even go against these guys? "Alright, alright. I... I can make it." "Then I'll see y'all at my place this Friday, at eight." "Why so late though." Seb protested. "Quit being an old man." Zora retorted.

... Dusk had come to the neighborhood as the sun shone its last rays on the wide sidewalk. Ethan shook his doziness off with a yawn, as he treaded the fragile pavement with slow steps, flinching when he heard a louder thud than usual. It compared to walking on eggshells. He supposed he could walk faster, after all he's not big enough to destroy a sturdy sidewalk yet, but the significant amount of people walking, or rather, rushing past him indicated otherwise. He had to be careful. Being big also meant being prone to stumble, and if he so as much as hit someone accidentally, his days inside Steelfort would be over. And he'd never see his mom and friends again. Ignoring the chills crawling down his spine, Ethan walked painfully slow until the crowd dwindled. Relieved, he picked up his pace. Hyperon individuals can't take any form of transport, so he had to walk to his destination, which was a long trek, even for him. By the time he arrived at Zora's house, the sun had long set. And wow, what a house that was. It was sleek, with sharp angles, towering and grand. Pillars of marble adorned its extravagant front wall. Ethan whistled at the sight. He now knew why Zora told him not to worry, the ceiling of the first floor looked taller than his 12 feet tall self. That, was impressive.

The second floor, from what he could see outside, had a much shorter ceiling, but it still added to the house's impressive height. The front of the house had a monumental, luxurious wooden door, adorning its limestone grey walls. Ethan reached for the door, and sighed. No matter his worries, he agreed to go, after all. There was no going back now. He extended the tip of his pinky finger and gently, slowly, tapped the ring bell. He hoped he hadn't broken it by accident. Three seconds later and he heard the pitter patter of Zora's tiny footsteps. She opened the door and he backed away, allowing her to crane her neck to glance up at him. "Finally. You’ve arrived just in time to see Seb absolutely failing at this game." "Hey!" Seb's muted voice echoed lightly through the room. Probably the loudest voice Ethan heard from him in the three years they knew each other. "Must be a hard game he's playing." He smirked. "Yeah, right. He doesn't know the difficulty is set on easy." Zora's grin widened. "Anyway, come in." After going through the doorframe, Zora led Ethan to the living room. It was spacious, with a open layout that merged the dinner room and the actual living room. In it, there was a large, rectangular sofa, a fluffy carpet, and a 72 inch ultra-wide TV, in which a grim-looking FPS game was playing, with Seb's back turned to Ethan. The frantic pressing of controller buttons and the violent gunshots from the game were the only background sounds of the room. Upon the screen changing to a red "Game Over", however, Seb turned to his friend.

"What's up, big guy." "The ceiling, I guess." Ethan grinned, and Zora groaned at the awful pun. He sat crisscross in front of the sofa, on which Seb was sitting, both facing towards the TV screen. "Heard you're showing your pro-player skills at the new console." He said with sarcasm. "Shut up."  Seb kicked Ethan's left arm with a smile on his face. Zora disappeared at the kitchen, picking a drink and chips for herself, while Seb tried yet another failing match, with Ethan teasing him and his poor gaming abilities. After a while, Zora set her stuff on the ground table in front of the sofa, while Seb paused the game to pick a drink for himself. They spent the next hours like this, drinking soda and eating snacks, most of which Ethan had paid, since he knew he'd consume much more than both of his friends combined. They brought over some chips and popcorn, Zora and Seb playing competitive games while Ethan cheered on whoever was winning. Both were utterly terrible at it.

Maybe if he could still play games, he'd teach them a thing or two of its mechanics, but his hands already got too big for the controller. After a while they chose an action movie to watch, for which Zora turned the lights off, and before they knew it, midnight had arrived. Ethan's eyes tried hard not to close. He felt sleepy, too sleepy. The movie was heavy-paced, and he had a good last night of sleep so, why couldn't he keep his eyes open? "Hey, you can get comfortable, you know?" - Zora said, noticing Ethan was hunched over. - "You're in the same position for hours now, I can push the sofa a little so you can lie down." "Ah, don't worry, it's ok-" "Dude. Don't worry. It's no problem at all." She got up and started pushing the sofa away, to which Ethan helped her with much ease. She also moved, with Seb's help, the ground table further away from them. "Won't your parents be mad that you changed stuff around?" Seb teased "Wait, so there was a problem after all?" "They won't arrive till next week. I'll move the stuff back tomorrow. Simple." "What the eyes don't see, the heart won't feel." Seb replied. Later on, Ethan laid down on his side, facing towards the action movie in front of them. That position was better. Although, he was sure he'd fall asleep now. Was he tired from class? He still didn't get it. Usually, he has less energy than normal with his condition, but this was far too much- Wait. His stomach sank. Had he forgotten to drink his pills? His heart raced against his ribcage. No, he remembers taking it after lunch. It was okay. He was okay. The symptoms were controlled, and there was no major growth spurt predicted for the week. He took a deep breath and sighed.

He'd be okay. -than? Ethan?" He snapped back to reality to Zora's calls for him. "Falling asleep already?" Seb grinned at him. "Ah, Sorry. Got distracted a bit. What is it?" "Well, I was just suggesting Seb that we use you as a human cushion." "Oh. Wait. What?" "Yeah, what she said." - Seb replied. "You see, the sofa is far away, and you happen to have much more space that it anyway, so..." "Be our backrest for a while, will ya?" "Um... Sure, I don't mind."

...

Zora and Seb laid their backs against Ethan, in front of his chest. That was... Weird. But he supposed he shouldn't feel that way. It's just weird when not long ago the three would each sit at a corner of the sofa, with a bit of space left. And now he was the "sofa substitute" instead. But still, Ethan had to admit, seeing his two friends so small and huddled up in front of him was kinda adorable. He contained an amused smile, and they kept watching the movie, laughing and saying a snarky remark here and there about its comically horrible plot. It didn't take long for the three to fall asleep, Ethan's friends unconsciously leaning back against him and using him as a pillow. They slept like that peacefully for the remainder of the night.

...

Ethan opened his eyes to the sight of a square, closed-off room. No windows, no doors, only the grey walls and the suffocating smell of mold. His heart started to beat fast. 'It was that nightmare again', his subconscious said, but Ethan himself had little to no awareness of it. He looked down at his hands, noticing his appearance. He was back to his original shape. Skinnier, shorter, as if no hyperon had taken hold of his body. Yet, he couldn't find relief in this, a sense of dread washing over him. His breathing became labored by the second. 'Where the hell am I?' He thought. His eyes darted around the place as he twisted his head around, searching for an exit. No matter what, he had to leave that place. He had to. If he did, he'd be free. He would- A deafening rumble of the walls shook Ethan to his core. Realization hit him, eyes widening. The walls started to move, closing in on him. Ethan gasped, darting to the nearest wall and banging against the concrete until blood dripped from his knuckles. Out. He had to get out. He had to leave. 'Please, please-!' he begged in vain as the room moved further towards him. The ceiling lowered as well, brushing against his head and forcing Ethan to crouch and shield himself with his arms. He hyperventilated, pushing in vain the walls that ate away at the leftover space. Widened eyes, racing heart, stomach sinking to the bottom and he'd die, he'd die, he would- When the walls, the floor, the ceiling, everything started pressing against him Ethan let out a blood curling scream, gritting his teeth as he heard and felt the cracking of the walls against his skin.

...

Zora awakened to the sound of trees uprooting from the soil. Wait. Wasn't she inside? There were no trees where she fell asleep. The feeling of something pushing against her back jostled her awake. She opened her eyes, only to widen them when she noticed how much closer to the television she was. The ever-present sound of trees uprooting and rubber bands snapping filled the room.

As well as the pained grunts and shivers of a sleeping Ethan.

Her heart fell, deducing what could most likely be happening at that moment. Sitting up on the carpet, she slowly turned to her right. A hand on the carpet twitched as its fingers extended upwards, bones cracking as it did so. A mound of flesh lumped and pulsated under the stretching skin. Chills crawled up her spine. Shaking, she turned around. Her friend was growing at a rapid pace right in front of her. And he was not awake, shifting in a disturbed sleep. She shot a glance at Seb, who was still asleep, settled in a tricky position between Ethan's arm and his torso. If he stayed there while Ethan grew, Seb would... She rushed to him and shook her friend under the expanding arm. "Seb. Seb, wake up! Quick!" "Ugh. Whaat isss it..?" He replied sleepily. "Get away from here. Ethan is-" she hissed. Seb noticed movement around him, the space becoming cramped and warm, and jostled awake, scrambling away from the once-comfortable spot. The two friends watched Ethan for that split second, struck by shock. Ethan closed in the space between them and the TV as he expanded. The floor groaned under him and it wouldn't be long until his back crushed the sofa behind them and the table on his side. Zora was the first to break from the stupor, rushing towards Ethan's face and smacking it with her trembling hands. "Ethan. Ethan! Wake up! You idiot!" Her insult had no meaning under her worried, shaky voice. Seb broke from his shock a while after, approaching Ethan as his friend still didn't manage to wake him up, with Ethan tossing and turning as if he was having a nightmare. There was a risk those heavy arms would hit them while he's unconscious. Seb halted in thought. How to even wake up a giant? And there was the danger of him accidentally hurting them in a fright, too. But…

‘I have no other choice.’ Seb approached Ethan's ear, knowing very well the danger of it as Zora looked at him with widened eyes. And Seb screamed from the top of his lungs. "ETHAN! WAKE UP!" He jolted awake with a huge gasp, rising into a seating position so fast his arm collided against Seb, throwing him over the sofa and to the ground. Ethan gasped while Zora ran towards Seb with a frantic voice. "What's. What's happening...!" Ethan looked down at his hands. Cracking. Expanding. His stomach dropped to the ground.

‘No.’ He looked down at his friends who looked horribly terrified. No. Nononono. He scrambled away from them in fright, only to accidentally support his enlarging hand on the sofa, breaking it in half. He looked back at it. Heartbeat faster. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't breathe.

This was a dream. This was a nightmare. It wasn't real. It can’t be!

Panicked, he scrambled further and further away from the paralyzed friends. Their faces pale, widened, worried eyes. But most of all. Scared. His remaining friends were scared of him. Ethan groaned when he felt pain surging through his body as he grew more. He aimed for the opposite side of the room, crawling backwards until he reached the door for the courtyard. He slid it open, breaking more furniture in the process, and squeezed his enlarging body through the doorframe until he left the house and stopped it from collapsing. Once over the spacious backyard, only the sound of his own bones snapping could be heard. His frantic heartbeat and his gasps added to the cacophony of noises, until the sounds of his growth spurt subsided. Ethan was left exhausted, lying down on the grass and gasping for breath, parts of his clothing completely ripped apart like he's a freak show. …

His ears buzzed at the doctor's diagnosis. His mother, Helena, held his oversized hand with her shaking ones. "The exams confirmed it, but it was clear to us before: it's Hyperon syndrome." The female doctor stated in a professional tone. Helena suppressed sucked in a breath, holding back her tears. She strengthened her grip on Ethan's hand. Ethan looked at the doctor in disbelief, reality not yet sinking in. A delusional part of his mind kept affirming it wasn't the syndrome, just a normal growth spurt, even when at that night his body changed so painfully and so drastically and the bones protruding from his skin and the muscles tearing through his clothes and- None of that was real, right? It must've been a joke destiny played on him. It can't be. It won't be. Any moment and he'll wake up, he had to- He had a basketball match to win next week, Carson would make a birthday party tomorrow, he had a criminal law test to pass. He'd be a public defender one day. Damn it! He couldn't just be diagnosed with an incurable mutation that turned him into, into a... "The good news is that his growth is not the instant type, otherwise his chances of survival would be slim." The doctor continued informing Ethan and his mom, the former half-listening, half-drowning in the sound of his own racing heartbeat, waiting, praying, begging for the moment he'd wake up.

"The bad news is that it's not the slow type of growth either. His type of hyperon is harder to predict as each growth spurt vary in amount and frequency." Helena glanced up at her son with worried creases on her eyes, noticing how out of it he seemed. Yet the doctor continued, looking up at Ethan's distraught face with a composed expression. "I give him around one to two months before he's 20 feet tall." “20 feet?!" - Helena reacted. "We need to begin treatment as soon as possible in order to reduce any painful side effects of your growth." This was not a nightmare. It was real. It was happening. To him. A void formed in his heart. And his mom couldn't contain her tears any longer. “I'm really sorry, Mr. Greenwood."

…

He was curled up on his side, a ringing sound in his ears, the frantic heartbeat in his chest, and the sore throb under all his muscles. Tears gathered in his eyes as he gritted his teeth. His friends. They must be terrified of him now. No. They must have run away from here already, to alert the police officers that another hyperon host had grown uncontrollably inside the house, breaking everything in it. It was what he deserved. He destroyed his friend's home. He broke the furniture. He almost hurt them. Heck, wasn't that Seb who he threw off him when he awoke? Was he even alright?? No, he was hurt, that must've hurt him. They were having such a great moment too, enjoying each other's company. Having fun. And he ruined it. It was his fault. Ethan rose to a sitting position, hugging his knees and attempting to take deep breaths. If he panicked, it would only make things worse. The worst thing than a giant monstrosity, was a giant monstrosity that didn't act rationally. Deep breaths. In and out, in out in out in out- "... Ethan...?" A feminine voice coming from inside the house jolted him from his panic and he looked up, incredulous. Zora and Seb were standing just by the doorframe, looking at him with worried, but afraid eyes. "You guys..." Ethan's voice was all but a whisper. Shame attempted to take over him. He hugged his exposed stomach and crawled even further away, trembling from head to toe, looking much more scared than they did.

From Zora and Seb's point of view, they never saw their friend so vulnerable. From his curled-up position, the grown 22-year-old man looked like a kid scared of the monster under their bed. Ethan was the first to break the stifling silence. "It's... It's not safe here. You should go to the nearest police station and tell the incident. They..." He gulped down his trembling voice. "they'll find a way to get me out of here for your safety. And..." He looked at Seb who still wore a pained expression on his face, most likely from his injuries. "They'll give Seb medical treatment." "Hey. I'm fine." Seb interjected. "…Doesn't seem like it to me." "Ethan, look." Zora chimed in, approaching him slowly. Her steps still shook a little. Dang it, if only she could control her shock. But how would she even lie about being calm? She isn't. The living room is all over the place and she saw her friend fill up the room in minutes and almost crush Seb. She. Was not. Calm. But Zora knew Ethan thought of all of this. Ethan dreaded this happening since the beginning, she was the one who convinced him to come to her house. And heck, she knew she had made the right call. So she stepped forward, leaving Seb to lean on the glass door and pretend that he wasn't with sore ribs. "Look. I know what you're thinking. You're probably on a load of self - hating bullshit right now but, it's not your fault, okay? I'm fine, we're fine. See?" She walked closer and closer to her friend who, while sitting down, towered over her by what she guessed was 10 feet. She clenched her teeth. Crap, he got big. So that's how hyperon-affected people all turned out? So monumental... No, even worse than that.

Ethan finally looked down at Zora with a hollow expression on his face. He reached out for her with a hand and- She flinched and backed away. He knew it. He fucked up so badly. "Damn it! Warn a soul!" - Zora hissed. She knew her facade fell down right at that instant. Ethan sighed loudly and looked at her with the most crestfallen expression she saw her friend ever making. Hopeless. The face of someone who thought he made a grave mistake. Zora knew that was not the truth and she had to convince him it wasn't. But the instinctive part of her certainly wasn't helping with the whole "don't feel like a monster" spiel. She cursed under her breath. But Ethan said nothing. He just looked at her with those dejected eyes. Like all hope had been drained. Like he was losing both of his friends on that day. And Zora had, no, she needed desperately to convince him it wasn't the case. Because it truly, faithfully, wasn't. She opened her mouth to say something, but Ethan looked at Seb and spoke before she could. "How... How bad is it? Something's broken?" He attempted to even out his voice but it came out trembling and faint. Seb sighed. He knew that Ethan would not fall for his and Zora's trick at pretending everything was fine. It wasn't. And it's about time they're 100% honest about it. So Seb walked forward, as Zora looked back at him with an expression that screamed ‘don't tell a thing.’ "It's sore all over, yeah, but no ribs broken, I think" - he limped towards the looming figure of his friend, grunting from the effort." - everything hurts but, not in a unbearable way. Might get a purple spot here and there though." With both of his friends now close to him, Ethan could properly look at them. They looked so, so small now. Much smaller than before. He wanted nothing more than them to treat him like everyone else treated him. At least that way, they wouldn't be hurt. A knot clogged in his throat and his stomach twisted and turned at the realization. There was no going back. This was real. It was happening to him. His previously happy, fulfilling life was running out, scurrying through his fingers. "I really... Really screwed things up, didn't I?" - his voice turned grave and faint, and Ethan hung his head low. He took in a shaky breath - "I... I don't mind if you guys don't want to stick around me from here on out." "Ethan." - Seb, surprisingly, spoke up first. - “Not gonna lie. You scared the shit out of me back then." He walked closer to Ethan, shortening the distance between them. "But that's all there is to it, it was a scare. None of us were in control of the situation at that moment, that includes you." "And, and also, we got scared of what was happening, but that doesn't mean we're scared of you, you know?" - Zora interjected, seeing the perfect opportunity to make Ethan understand her point. "Yeah. So like she said, no self-loathing okay?"

Ethan felt like crying right then and there. How did these guys even manage to walk up to him like that? And say all those things, and choose to remain there with him? He couldn't understand it. But oh, was he so, so grateful for that. Even though inside he thought he would burst into tears, Ethan only gave a sad smile to them, softening his eyes as they pooled with tears. "You both are crazy, do you know that?" Seb laughed. "Of course that's what you'd say." Zora pouted, a sad glint behind her eyes. "Last night... It was really fun. Thank you. I just don't think my size will allow for it to happen again, though." "Hey, in the end Zora made the right call." "It's just like I said before." - she rolled her eyes. - "Seize the opportunity, and all that." 'Because it was my last.' Ethan painfully remarked in his head.

[so-very-small]

What is YOUR gt thought of the day?

My super specific flavor of G/t today is being the body double for a noble/royal figure, in a fantasy setting. Whether by coercion or dedication you pose as that figure for all political and social events due to your uncanny resemblance, so that if any assassination attempts are made the actual royal will be safe and far away. It’s your job, it’s your duty, and you always prepared for the possibility of getting harmed in this line of work.

You did not prepare for being kidnapped by the giant political rival of a kingdom far off. It happens suddenly, one second you’re at a ball, the next the roof is being ripped off and you’re snatched up in a gloved hand. The giant takes you back to their palace, locks you in a little birdcage above their desk. They’re charming, if not smug, quite happy to goad you with their plans and the futility of your situation. Ransom, of course, but other political ulterior motives possible.

You have to deal with the overwhelming and incomprehensible presence of a giant. Fingers twice your height, grabbing you without hesitation. A looming presence always over your shoulder. And, on top of that, you have to come to terms with the fact no rescue is coming. You’re a body double, the noble’s safe, and they wouldn’t risk a rescue mission for you. No hope, no dream of escape. So you lie your ass off.

You’re good enough at your job to not break the role of royal, and you take the rest in stride. This giant is terrifying, taking every opportunity to make you feel even smaller, and like the superb actor you are you manage to hold your own. Eventually anxiety ridden nights and verbal spats graduate to decent conversation, and soon enough you’re sitting in their hand while you talk rather than the birdcage.

The two of you get closer, incomprehensibly. You don’t notice the terror of their size, but rather how their hair falls into their eyes as they laugh. More time is spent in their pocket than not, and the birdcage is a distant memory.

And deep down, despite sleeping on their pillow every night and despite forgetting to act half the time, you’re still terrified. Because word takes a long time to travel across giant nations, but it will arrive. Word that the noble is safe and sound, and the body double is disposable, and that will be it.

Whatever thread of connection you have between your giant captor and yourself might utterly snap once they find out all the lies. What was the point of ever even thinking of love? They kidnapped you, and you lied to them about your entire identity. It was never sustainable, long-term. You lay on their pillow and watch them sleep, and wait for the last few grains of sand to fall down the hourglass. It can’t last forever.

so yeah that’s what my g/t vibe is tonight

[icewindandboringhorror]

boy in silly sitting positions compilation

[system-architect]

The Price of Enlightenment

Wracked by nerves in the days before the scheduled date of her Ascension, Zojja receives a nighttime visitor.

content warnings: lots of talk about death + dying (including some parts describing corpses and some analogies to suicide), implied bad childhoods, nausea/people nearly (but not full-on) getting sick

author's note: wanted to write a fic that makes zojja's soto arc make.. more sense... and inspire more realistic doubts into her character about it. this fic contains some fanon-- namely, the idea that kudu and zojja both briefly apprenticed under snaff at the same time before kudu's departure. also, please note that this fic is explicitly not meant to read as shippy whatsoever despite any banter ✌️

The sun had long since crept below the skyline of the Archipelago, but Zojja found herself unable to attain solid rest– she seems to flicker in and out of sleep, sparse fragments of dreams flitting through her brain like fireflies rising from a field. She finds herself shaken between them, roused by a small sharp breeze flowing through her opened window, and would turn in bed, futilely trying to attain a comfortable pose despite her eyes seeming to be glued wide open.

The date of her ascension was drawing closer, and she had been absolutely adamant throughout the whole process– Yes, I want to do this. I really do want this. I know what it costs. Now that she was nearly at the peak, it felt as though the veil was beginning to fall from her confidence, and she felt half-formed doubts worming their way up through her body like nausea.

She flips herself over onto her back, fingers clutching at the sheets as her head sinks into her impossibly hard pillow. Her body felt heavy, so heavy, and achey. She lays there, staring at the ceiling, feeling every acute twinge of her soreness, when a shadowy presence creeps into her periphery from near the window.

“Zojja.”

Something within her ruptures– she knew that voice. It incenses her. She felt every muscle in her body spasm in a sort of shiver as she shoots half-upright, her face scrunching up and lips peeling back. She squints over in the direction of the figure.

“Kudu.”

The man was… posing in an uncharacteristically flamboyant manner, leaning up against the wall with one leg bent. He seems to have a wine glass in one hand, and just to the left next to him was… bizarrely, a cardboard cutout of Snaff, with features poorly drawn on in marker. Kudu appears as she remembers him– dark brown hair tied up in a tight bun, two little pinpricks of pale yellow glaring out at her from the shadows of his face.

“It’s somewhat incredible, you know, that you manage to make my name sound like a curse every time you utter it,” he swirls the wine in the glass. “I’d ask how you’re doing, dear, but I fear we both know that the answer is ‘terribly’.”

Kudu’s manner of talking set something berserk in her, like hearing claws on slate. Oooh she could not stand it. She had stopped taking it personally a long time ago– it had taken several run-ins with the man for her to understand his modus operandi. Once she did, it became apparent that the man simply dished out flamboyant little remarks like he exhaled carbon dioxide. Whether they helped manipulate or woo anyone was a near-unintentional byproduct. Still, something about him felt simply slimy, and thus every time he opened his mouth she felt like a bull seeing red.

“What is it you want, you little worm? Why are you here?” Her ears pin back as she squints over at him– taking the time to notice his shifting posture, which had spontaneously changed so that he was sort of draped against the wall. “...And why are you… like that?”

His brows raise as he taps the wine glass backwards against the cutout of Snaff. “I suppose, in a strange way, you could consider me as checking up on you at the behest of the old man here. Ah, but no, I suppose it’s more likely that I just still swim around in your head after all these years, yes? …And it’s not my fault that your brain has decided to render me as some sort of eccentric pervert.”

“That’s because you are an eccentric pervert.”

“You see?”

Zojja couldn’t help but let out a small, frustrated squawk. She feels the urge to grab her pillow so that she could scream into it, but stops herself so she doesn’t remind him how easy it is to get a rise out of her. She replaces the urge with a vision of her shoving the pillow down his throat in a cartoonesque manner. While she’s entertaining various other murder fantasies, she takes a second to study the facsimile of the man in front of her. It was definitely Kudu, but…

“What are you, anyway? A ghost? Some sort of kryptis trying to eat at me– or inspire doubt?! Hm?!” She punctuates her sentence with a triumphant humph, as if she surely had sussed him out.

“Oooh. Externalizing our locus of control already, are we? I’m certain you’d love it were I anything but the product of your… what was it now, fourth day of sleep deprivation?”

Her claws poke through the sheets and begin to pull at the mattress. Unfortunately, it was true. This wasn’t the first night she’d been in this predicament, it’s just that her stress dreams were usually bereft of morally bankrupt middle aged men.

Kudu’s pupils flick towards her stressed motion, weaving little light trails in the dark. The wine glass has mysteriously disappeared, and he folds his arms behind his back as he takes a small step towards her. “And… doubts? Who said anything about doubts? Aside from you, of course…”

“What?! No, I–”

He’s drawn closer. “What sort of doubts could you possibly harbor? Are they about your ascension, perhaps?”

“Th–”

Kudu wasn’t actually a particularly tall man, only having a couple of inches on her at most, but from his position next to her bed, he seems to tower over her. “What’s there to fear? Dagda seems fairly well-adjusted now. You trust her, don’t you?”

“Well– of course I do, but–”

“But?!” The man’s expression was like a jackal seeing a wounded gazelle, and he draws a claw up to pick at his chin. “...Mmm, actually, I suppose this is typical of you. The trust issues and whatnot.”

“What?!” She barks at him, face contorting as she bares her teeth. Her body feels incredibly heavy all of a sudden. “What do you– mean…”

Kudu peers down at her as if he were observing an experiment, stony faced. They both knew what he meant. He removes the claw from his chin, and waggles two fingers in a sort of walking motion across the air, as if miming people frolicking through a field of daisies.

“You haven’t reached back out to your little friends, have you? You know, the ones you still have, anyway.”

There’s a cascade of tiny popping sounds as Zojja’s claws fully puncture into the mattress. “Y– you’re in no position to talk, you don’t even have friends!”

He ignores her little jab, tilting his head to the side as he begins examining his cuticles. “Loathe as I am to compliment you, I have got to say, Zojja, I do somewhat admire your talent for burning out on people and treating them like chopped liver. Or, of course, simply getting them killed. Frankly, I understand it.”

“Understand?!” She spits venom. “I never– How dare you suggest– We are not–”

Alike? He splays out his fingers, waggling them one last time as he finishes studying his hand, before drawing it behind his back once again. He leans over Zojja just a little more, a halo of light from the window lining his silhouette.

“Another little thing that we both know, my dear.”

Zojja flinches, abruptly aware of the sensation gripping her entire being– she’s sinking almost painfully into the bed, as if there were iron weights piled upon her chest. Words are able to hiss past her teeth despite it.

“No way. You’re the only one to blame for your problems, you… you…” She can feel his eyes boring into her, the figment waiting with bated breath to hear which insult she chooses. “--poseur!!”

Kudu’s brows raise, and his jaws hangs open slightly. A little scoff escapes from his throat. “Poseur? Now that’s a nostalgic one.”

The room seems to flicker as scraps of memories waft through Zojja’s brain– a messy workroom table, three coffee cups nestled amongst the documents and tomes. Herbal tea in her’s. She had too young for caffeine; the old man insisted as much, anyway. The sounds of muffled conversation– debates, questions, revelations– swirled around her ears whenever she let sleep grip her on a late night, arms and crumpled velum pressed against her cheek in lieu of a comfy pillow.

A small spasm ripples down her body, jostling her out of her reverie. To her disdain, Kudu is still there, fixed in the exact same pose as he was before her eyes had closed. If they had closed, anyway– it was difficult to tell. The world felt like it was beginning to unravel and warp around her.

“Oh, good, I thought I lost you for a moment there. Where were we?”

You leaving.

“Ah, right. How we’re devastatingly incomparable people without a lick in common.”

Yeah. You said it. There’s nothing there. Just give it up. Stop thinking about it. A young man towered over her, a fresh undercut framed his ponytail, and a few stubborn pimples dotted his face. He shrouded himself in dark clothing and curled into himself when he moved, as if he might be able to shrink from existence, but his ego filled the room. Bitter, insatiable. She had been pulled from muck and fog and brought into a new world, she spat out sparks when she talked, her skull overflowed with ideas. She felt like she wanted to fly up to the sun. Tenacious, bull-headed. A thick layer of desperation to make something, be something under it all; they hitched themselves to the same star.

His voice toyed with her, sarcastic. “There’s a clear line between us, of course. I was simply born bad, and you, good. You have an unshakeable grip on everything you are and want. You’re infallible.”

Old arguments, coated in cobwebs in the recesses of her gray matter. She never understood where all the animosity came from. It wasn’t her fault that Snaff liked her iteration of the diaphase arcanic separator better. She couldn’t be blamed for being brilliant. He sat as far away from her as possible on the worktable bench; she’d slide closer and pester him on purpose. The way his weird puggy lips contorted when he was trying to stifle his upset was funny to her. He’d ‘fix’ her mystic diodes and leave them a smoking pile, she’d throw a tantrum. He’d look smug until he got reprimanded for it.

The edges of her thoughts melted together in the muggy heat of the eternal Maguuman summer. The smell of ozone and solder would hang heavy in the air for hours. Everyone got along best when occupied by some sort of project. There wasn’t a single inch of wall space in the lab that wasn’t plastered in sketches and blueprints of prototypes and small epiphanies. Snaff liked to hover behind them as they worked, arms folded behind his back. His presence always felt warm, not judgmental. She was glad she was here now, clean, a fresh start. She refused to ever go back, she wanted to do this– had to do this. Muffled voices across the lab kept her up at night. She knew she shouldn’t listen in, but she couldn’t resist. A voice of guidance and reason, and a voice that cracked, crushed under monumental pressure, always choked something back. You should really give him a chance. A concerned hand clapped on her shoulder. I’m trying to convince him of the same…

Arcs of lightning and smoldering fires set off a chain reaction of fights. It’s always your fault, not mine. When things don’t go my way I want to grit my teeth and scream through them and beat my fists against things. I just need this one little thing to work out. I feel so full of concepts and questions I feel like I’m going to burst, it hurts, I have a headache. Stop getting in my way. I can’t hold myself back when I get mad or excited. I love the thrill of the chase when I’m on the trail of an idea, a theory. Small game isn’t enough. I crave more. Every part of me feels sore and weary. I would never admit how much a deep part of me wants comfort. I miss Snaff. I miss Eir…

A hypnic jerk wracks Zojja’s body, the force knocking her bedframe into the wall with a clatter as she’s pulled back to reality once more. What passes for it, anyway. Kudu is still looming over her, and had leaned closer– she could see through his pupils, to the layer of yellow and green nightshine that stares back out at her from behind his retinas.

“A pity that there will be no one left to remember it all.”

Zojja’s ears pin back, pressing against the pillow entombing her head. Her voice picks up a desperate tone. “Wh– everyone loves Snaff! No one’s going to forget him! And you… you’re… infamous, you know–”

Kudu’s head tilts to the side, considering her like an owl watching a mouse. “Being a celebrity is one thing, but it’s all about the details. They’ll never know about Snaff’s sweet tooth. How I had to teach myself to stop biting my claws…”

Their mentor stuffed wrapped candies into every stray desk compartment and container like a skritt hoarding coins. He never seemed to mind if she pocketed them– she thought he’d tuck them into her console’s desk on purpose, actually. The other apprentice had cracked, bloodied cuticles when she first met him. Some sort of nervous habit. He’d pull an angry and embarrassed face if he caught himself doing it, as if anticipating being scolded.

The specter clasps his hands against his chest, digging into his ribcage with his nails. He doesn’t give her time to reply. “Those memories die with you, Zojja. I’m a dead man. You remember that, don’t you? You introduced me to my butcher. Snaff’s dead too, in case you already forgot…”

Zojja feels herself shiver. A painful memory, perfectly clear, worn in from how many times it had been on replay in her mind. A hand, wreathed in purple crystal, going limp. Dangling from her arms, or splaying out against the tile. Twitching with postmortem spasm. She senses a bit of sick climbing up her throat and tries to shake herself out of it, despite the amount of weight on her chest.

Kudu is relentless. A clawtip sinks into the center of her sternum, prodding her like a scalpel. She wants to writhe and scream, but she can’t. His lips peel back to reveal rows of violet teeth as he grins at her in a sadistic manner.

“That’s another thing we have in common, you know. The self-destruction. You just can’t stand it all, can you? You sink one little tooth into something you feel you want so badly, and the world just becomes a big blur…” He twists his finger around, burrowing the claw in deeper. “You should tell them to make your robes purple. Adorn them in stones. We’d all match.”

She finally manages to shake her body out of paralysis, squirming as she bucks his hand off. He withdraws back towards the window in one smooth motion, expression unchanging.

“Shut UP– I would never– I won’t forget–”

Kudu wraps his arms around what was the cutout of Snaff, which is now very real, very physical, very limp. The moonlight casts their skin in a clammy lilac hue, striped and stained with black stone and indigo crystal that splits open their hides like rot. Snaff is unmoving, devoid of life, propped up only by Kudu’s hand at his back. His head has rolled back; she can’t make out Snaff’s face anymore.

“You would– and you will.” His lips tug impossibly upwards, his eyelids crinkling at the bottom. “You don’t even have her twin anymore, do you?”

Zojja growls as he hunches one shoulder, indicating the silvery metal device strapped to his left arm, pressed in between himself and Snaff. “Of course– I– She’s just in storage–”

He pounces. “Storage?! Oh, oh, oh, Zohhh-jjaa, you may as well just throw it out! Even I hadn’t realized how much you had given up!”

“I haven’t given up– I’m just–”

Kudu grips onto Snaff’s body tighter, his claws starting to pierce through their mentor’s coat fronts, the sides of their cheeks pressing together as if he’s giving him some sort of painful embrace. “I carried on his legacy better than you. Did you know that? Have you ever thought of that? Doesn’t it burn? I was the one ripping open dragons’ brains, you abandoned us. And you don’t even care!”

She snarls through her teeth. “Worthless liar! I– I had the Pact, of course I care–”

He begins to lower Snaff out through the open window, dangling him precariously over the sill. Snaff remains limp, arm waving slightly in the night breeze. “You care?! You’re throwing us out. Rendering us down to useless garbage!”

Her body just barely pries itself upwards. “I’m NOT– I might still remember– I just, I have to do this for–”

Kudu lets Snaff slip from his grasp even more, and his own body begins to tilt towards the window, as if pulled by the other man’s weight. “I’ve told you enlightenment always comes at a price, dear! I suppose I can’t judge you! I did the same!”

Zojja can barely choke out anything through the tears forming on her face before he continues. They both look like they’re about to topple out, off the edge of the precipice. “Since you want to destroy everything so badly, just bite the bullet! Let them rip you apart! Let’s die together, Zojja!”

She rockets upwards, her throat instantly rendered hoarse by the scream that flies out of her mouth. “SHUT UP! STOP IT! SHUT UP!”

She’s met with silence. Blinking hard, she does a double take at the window. No Kudu, no Snaff. The wind whistling through the opening rattles the frame quietly, and stings at her brow with an icy feeling. She hadn’t realized she was coated in sweat until now.

It takes only a few brief seconds for the sound of running echoing down the hallway to burst forth into her room– a panicked Dagda, who throws her door open hard enough to make the metal of the handle emit a sickening crunch as it hits the wall. The jotun seems just as sweaty as Zojja is, wide-eyed and bewildered.

“Zojja–! What’s wrong?! Are you hurt?! Are we being attacked?!--”

She slows down a bit as she scans the room, before finally setting her gaze on Zojja– the only person there. Zojja’s ears twist back as she tries to gain something resembling composure. She turns to look back out the window again.

The horizon shifts outside, a deep navy tint beginning to break up the dark. High in the sky, the stars still hang overhead. She stares tiredly at a particularly bright one as it shimmers. A binary star, flickering rapidly between red and blue as its twin stars rotate around one another. As she watches it, her hand crawls up to feel at her chest, which is unscathed, unwounded.

Finally, she turns back to Dadga, forcing a small chuckle. “N– Nothing. Just… dealing with some demons.”

It takes her a moment to notice Dadga’s widening eyes and the panic not leaving the woman’s face. The asura panics for a moment in turn, waving her hands dismissively.

“Not– not literal!”

[eldritch-thrumming]

Hawkins, Indiana

January 1987

Max has been home from rehab for about a week and all she’s really been able to do is amble around her trailer watching movies and listening to music. The second semester of the school year doesn’t start for another week, so she’s got a lot of time on her hands.

Sometimes, when she’s really bored, she’ll make her way, slowly, over to Eddie’s trailer and bother him for an afternoon. Sometimes Wayne is there and awake to bother too and it makes her remember what it felt like to have a family that cared about her. It doesn’t make her bitter, just hopeful, because she thinks now she’s found people that could be that for her.

She’s knocking on the trailer now and she can hear Eddie scrambling for the door on the other side. He swings it open, his guitar in his other hand. “Max!” He exclaims, a bright smile lighting up his entire face when he sees her. “Come in. I was just learning a special song.”

Max makes her way up the steps into the trailer and follows Eddie into the living room. Eddie drops into the sole armchair in the room, leaving Max to the plaid couch. It was old and the fabric was a little scratchy, but it was soft in all the right places. She sits with her back against one of the arms, lifting her legs to stretch in front of her. Her ankles were a bit swollen today because of the weather and they were irritated. She was supposed to keep them elevated when that happened.

“So what’s the song?” She asks. Eddie smiles and starts playing. He’d already played her “Running Up That Hill” in the hospital so many times, she was almost getting sick of it, but this time it’s “Hounds of Love.” Max can’t help but smile as she listens.

When the song is over, Eddie says, “I’m making my way through the entire album.” He doesn’t say ‘just in case’ but Max hears it anyway and something inside her swells as she looks at him. It’s been hard for them all to believe that the Upside Down is gone and Vecna with it.

There’s another knock on the trailer door then and Eddie smiles at her, placing his guitar in her hands before he goes to answer the door. She strums the strings absently as she waits for him to come back.

Eddie is trying to keep his voice soft, maybe so she doesn’t hear, but she hears anyway. “Hey Stevie, Max is here.”

She can’t hear Steve’s response but then Eddie’s stepping back, making space for Steve to come through the door. Then Steve is there, smiling, grocery bags in hand.

“Hey, Max,” Steve calls over to her. “Any dinner plans tonight?"

Max just shakes her head, smiling back.

“Good, because I’m cooking the best pasta you’ll ever taste in your life.” Steve’s grinning now as he pulls off his jacket and starts unpacking his bags, arranging his ingredients on the counter in the kitchen. Max’s eyes dart over to Eddie and she can see the way he’s looking at Steve. It’s the same way that she’s seen Will look at Mike or the way that Lucas looks at her when he thinks she’s not paying attention. Eddie’s looking at Steve like he's hung the moon.

“Oh,” she says, almost involuntarily. “I don’t want to intrude.”

“You could never,” Steve says, pulling several pots from a cabinet near the stove. Max doesn’t miss the way he seems to know his way around the trailer. “Right, Munson?”

Eddie seems to shake himself from a daze. “Absolutely, Mayfield. You gotta stay. Steve’s, like, a professional chef. Wayne’ll be here too.” Eddie leaves Steve to start preparing their meal in the tiny kitchen and comes back over. “Wanna learn some chords while we wait?”

Max nods and Eddie starts to show her where she’s supposed to put her fingers, how to strum using his guitar pick. At some point, Wayne emerges from his room down the hall, making his way to the refrigerator and grabbing a beer. He makes conversation with Steve in the kitchen while Max and Eddie keep playing. Before long, Steve’s calling them over to the kitchen table while Wayne arranges the place settings.

Max can’t remember the last time she’s had a dinner like this. Her mom wasn’t really the cooking type anymore and she was at work more often than not these days anyway. Max smiles at the way Wayne and Eddie tease each other, how it’s so clear they love each other. She laughs at Wayne’s stories of the guys at the plant, at the dumb shit they do when they’ve been drinking on the nights they have off. She laughs at the way Eddie makes fun of Steve for being popular and playing basketball and how Steve makes fun of Eddie for being a nerd.

She can’t remember the last time she’s felt like this, like there’s something fuzzy flowing through her veins. She looks around the table at the three men and she can’t help but think that this is what a family is supposed to feel like.

The pasta’s pretty good too.

you can read the full (complete) fic “sorry about the blood in your mouth (i wish it was mine)” on ao3 here

[leconcombrerit]

Last one and I'll stop bothering you, but here's the big outline of my interpretation :

An endless loop

The boys are stuck in a loop ; as Phee said at the end, even he, Jin and Tee had never left the house. I don't think they're dead. I just think them being dead or alive doesn't matter, because they will all circle back to the house in the woods anyway, and the loop will start again from the beginning of ep 1. Much the same as Phee didn't remember how they got out, they won't remember how they got back in. They won't remember much, actually. Events will replay the same way they had last time -and the time before, and all those beforehand for all we know. A neverending recreation of Non's first and only movie. But I think there's more.

If they die like Por, Top, Fluke, White and New, they're brought back to the loop anyway. Death isn't a get out of jail card. If they get away like Phee, Jin and Tee, they get brought back as well -but I think they keep a vague memory of the slaughter on a subconscious level. Not the flashbacks kind ; rather that feeling etched in your bones, something you don't even notice that still guides your moves and thoughts.

The masked figures

Time travel usually tends to get tricky since the very principle of a loop is that things already happened while they're happening, the masked figures would be the boys' own 'ghosts', or previous selves if you'd like. I made a post about it here, and another here about which masked figure would represent each character.

Tee's memories

Tee freaks out and refuses to consider any option other than the ghost of Non being out to get them. He feels guilty, sure, but he still seems to overreact compared with his usual behavior. Not that I had noticed much since we barely knew him at the time. Tee knows. He does't know that he knows, but he knows anyway. And he'll get rid of the ghost haunting him and protect White this time.

Just kidding. He failed again.

Phee's memories

Unlike the others, Phee breaks out of the nightmare by his own means. He doesn't cave in like Fluke, Top or even Tee ; he doesn't need saving like Jin. Phee escapes by convincing himself what he sees is entirely an hallucination, a certainty that allows him to figuratively let Non die and keep the ghost at bay (more about it here).

A ghost that can't appear if you're not scared ; if you don't believe in it at all ; if your mind isn't plagued by fear and clouded by drugs. Phee abandons Non again to save Jin and Tee, but forcing your way out isn't going to be enough to beat Non's curse. His mind being the clearest, he'd retain bits and pieces that would help him navigate the scene, as I mentioned in one of the linked posts. One of those memories would be that Non doesn't haunt them, it's all manmade. Second would be little things that allow him to make impeccable guesswork.

Phee being Phee, he probably tries his best to save as many people as he can every time. But hey, he failed again. And he loses even when he wins.

The drugs and the ghost

When I said paranormal and factual dimensions were intertwined, I mean you can't cut a clear distinction bewteen the two. It overlaps. Some events are both paranormal and material at the same time ; I think that's what happens with the hallucinations the boys get. It is due to the drugs, yet at the same time it is Non. I felt like the more you see him with a mask on, the less it's him and the more of a drug induced hallucination it is.

Those who truly see him are the ones Non feels the most strongly about. Tee, who tried his best but also sentenced him to death. Phee, who abandoned him when he needed him most. Jin is still a mystery but I'm working on it. And New, of course.

New was never cursed ; he is part of the curse

New who doesn't see his worst fear come true, but gets comforting words instead, even after breathing the gas. New who is yet stuck in this nightmarish loop like the rest of them in spite of being forgiven by the end of it.

As I stated here, he serves as an ally for Non. He's the one who makes everything possible. Non holds his hand with the red string of fate on. New will forever carry out his brother's revenge, over and over and again. I don't think it's such a bad fate for him. He has the time of his life anytime he takes one of them down after all.

Could they break free ?

Ultimately ? I wanna say no. I like it better that way. Non won't forgive them. But if you told me 'hey, let's make a season 2, those fuckers need to find a way out', well...

A classic would be that they need to all survive. Or that's at least something they could try (and by 'they' I mean Phee, he's the obvious hero). Keep Por from impaling himself on a branch, or keep Top from killing him. Find ways around New's plan. Get everyone to calm their tits when actual ghosts haunt their hallucinations. Good luck with that.

Another classic would be to get them to accept and face what they did to Non. No more 'I'm sorry's, no more 'it wasn't me'. Man up. Face your fear. Look the ghost dead in the eyes and take it all in. Tee especially would need to get a lot of work done before he inhales the fumes, and more again when he faces Non. He did kill him. Trying to repair his mistake doesn't change shit to that. He has to stab him or he'll stab White.

Phee would need to accept that it is indeed Non he's facing. He needs to accept that he let him die and that Non hated him for it. Phee desperately wants to be a good man, true to his word, strong and reliable. He wasn't any of this to Non. His final reaction is the right one ; he had to let Non die in that bathtub. He had to let him jump off the roof. But he has to do so acknowledging that it's Non.

And if they all do this, Non doesn't have power on them anymore. His vengeance becomes empty. Only New remains as a threat, robbed from his main weapon. The whole thing becomes meaningless and falls apart. I hate it because Non and New deserve their killing spree, but somehow I don't think a second season would go that route...

[bigcats-birds-and-books]

update, y'all: suddenly i have SIX (6) micro writing projects for the weekend, and i'm hyped!!

[umbraastaff]

But before he could reach his intended altitude, a few yards short of the stalactite-dotted ceiling, something pulled him to a stop — not a bony hand at his shoulder this time, but a fuzzy constricting sensation around his scythe-bearing arm. When he looked down, he saw a web of tangled red threads, impossibly thin yet ensnaring him from wrist to mid-biceps — and every single one of them led back to Barry Bluejeans.

- Fear The Reaper A Lot, Actually by @anistarrose