#septic swap

[huffle-dork]

Swap into the CrystalVerse Chapter 21: Horror Septics

Co-written with @crystalninjaphoenix 

Read Swapboys | Read Horror Septics | AO3 Link

Prologue | Switch | Stitched | PNPT | Septicheroes | Fantasy Masks | Horror

Taglist: @brokentimewatch @di-diwata  

The power Magnificent took from the forest allows him to teleport vast distances. In his rush to get away from there, he ends up in a town on the edge of some body of water. A sea coast, judging by the smell. And it only took a handful of teleports. There's a strange mist that seems to hover around his feet at all times now. Like he's carrying around a fog machine.

Magnificent stumbles across the street, holding his arms and looking around. The power feels- strange in his system. But… very powerful. He thought he’d be drained trying to do go far but.., he’s fine. That’s incredible. Could he just- escape that thing’s watch and run? Find other things to crush? He… had to find this worlds version of him… right? Why did it feel like… he already did? The fog is new and unsettling but- it could be worse. He keeps an eye out- looking for anything in a red hoodie.

There are some people on the street, going about their own business. They don't notice the mist--or if they do, they don't stare. They do look at Magnificent's face and outfit. Clearly, this isn't a normal appearance for this world. But it must not raise too many questions, because, again, no stares.

Except for one.

A man, younger than Mag is, with sandy blonde hair and a lot of freckles. He's standing beneath a shop's awning and not even bothering to hide his stare.

Magnificent feels the stare on him and locks eyes with the young man, stilling in his walk. He narrows his eyes and tilts his head like a cat, his eyes catching light unnaturally.

The man stares back for a moment. Then he glances to either side and gestures for Magnificent to come closer.

Magnificent checks around too and then he teleports over. He just stares down at the man and raises an eyebrow. "... You're staring an awful lot, aren't you?"

The man gasps as he teleports and staggers backwards. "S-sorry, I dinnae mean to pry, I jus--" He straightens. "Did ye come from Faoirise Hollow? Did ye... talk to it?"

Magnificent narrows his eyes, "... is that the name of the forest back some ways? With the... mist?" He purses his lips and then nods, "... if you're referring to what I'm thinking of then... yes. What of it?"

The man goes pale. "Oh. Oh no, did--did ye agree to anyt'ing? Did ye say yes?"

“What does it matter to you?” Mag spits.

"T'at's not a no." The man's eyes widen. "I-I'm sorry, ye can'--maybe if ye get far enough ye'll be able to escape--" And then he stops. And goes quiet.

“What,.. what do you mean?” Mag tries to hide the way his voice tries to shake.

"I'm sorry, I think I've mistaken you for someone else," the man says. "Were you going to go take the ferry? It leaves soon. You should hurry."

Why is it so quiet?

"What the hell are you talking about?" Mag presses, stepping forward, "Why- why do I need to escape?"

"Escape? No, I'm sorry, I think you're not who I was looking for," the man says, smiling. "I'm sorry to bother you." He turns and starts to head inside the store. The awning above shifts. It must have been sturdier than it looked, though, because it doesn't even creak.

Magnificent feels a chill go down his spine- why... why is it so quiet? "W-wait!"

The man does not wait. He goes into the building, the door slowly closing behind him.

Magnificent staggers back, eyes wide. Something's... something's not right here. He backs away more then- he tries to rush back down the street. He said something about escaping- before he started acting even more strange- maybe he should look for a way out!

As he runs, he notices something strange. There were pedestrians on the street, but not anymore. And his footsteps are not there. Even as his feet pound against the pavement, there is no sound.

Magnificent feels panic start to grip at his chest. He tries to run faster.

He keeps running and running until— Something stops him. Not a wall, not a magical forcefield. It gives a little before snapping back. As he stumbles away, he notices a cut on his face. And then he notices the near-invisible string hanging across the narrow street, side to side like some sort of spider web.

Some of his blood stains a strand red.

Magnificent shouts out as he hits the string and when he sees the blood on his hand he staggers back. “What… what is this?!” He yells out in anger and tries to burn the string with green fire.

The string burns easily. But it was never really meant to stop him. Only keep him busy for long enough. He is standing under a lamp post. The light goes out.

Magnificent yells and then whips around, holding a flame out and trying to sound threatening, "W-Who's there?!"

He’s looking in the wrong place. By the time he thinks to look up, it’s too late. Something brushes against his arm. When he finally does look up he can’t even see much, as it’s hiding behind the shattered lamp. There are spiral eyes that stare at him, and jointed wooden hands that reach for him, and then—

Freeze.

In the last two worlds, he found himself under someone else’s control. When JJ managed to put his strings on him, and when the King commanded him. And though that control was strong, maybe he would have struggled out of both of those trances if given enough time.

This is different. It is a crushing weight where the others were merely heavy. There is no way out of this.

Magnificent stiffens and he gasps as his body and mind are completely stolen by the entity pursuing him. He can't fight. He can't even scream.

His own voice speaks. “You weren’t supposed to see me. But you were getting off track. Did you not understand the request? That man was not wearing a red hood, why did you speak to him?” A pause. The thing on the street lamp shifts, joints twisting. “It is not on this island. This town has a ferry to the next. Check there. Do you understand?” Though he cannot use his voice, he somehow knows it will hear him if he tries to answer.

Magnificent wants to fight but he shudders as he hears his voice speak without his say-so. He can't- how could he have been so stupid?

He tries to tell the thing, "Y-Yes."

"Good," his voice says.

And much like when he was in the forest, he feels something loosen. Less like a tight grip, more like unzipping a tight jacket. He can move and talk and do whatever he wishes once again. But he can feel that sensation of control waiting. Resting against his skin.

Magnificent gasps again as the control is lifted, but he feels uneasy and cold. Like the puppeteer has only put down the control bar for a second. And he hates it. How was he supposed to know the thing he's hunting wasn't here? He growls and bares his teeth then stumbles forward to find the ferry. It's pretty clear what he's supposed to do now...

As he makes his way there, the strange man's words drift through his mind. What was it? "If you go far enough maybe you can escape"? Something like that...

Go far enough.... he needs to find his cub. They need to get out of this universe as soon as possible..

-----------

It's definitely night by the time Chase and his new companion make their way into the city, but the presence of street lights does a lot to make it bright in a way that Chase probably wouldn't have appreciated without the last universe. Right now the two of them are in a suburb area, but it can't be that far from somewhere more urban. Cars pass by on the road every minute or two. Jack looks uneasy, but he's not going to leave Chase behind.

Chase isn't looking much better- especially cuz they're walking. He feels like he's about to burst out of his skin, but he's trying to stay calm. Even though his instincts are trying to go crazy. Something is really really wrong here... and he's so worried about Alt. And even Mag-

"Do you know where your brother would go if he was on his own?" Jack asks quietly. "If not... public libraries always have free charging ports for phones. Sometimes they have cables, too. Or you could buy one if you have money. I don't."

"He'd... he'd be trying to find me," Bro admits, shrugging. "That's what he's done in every world before this..." He pats his utility belt and checks to see. "Um- I have money. Not a lot- and... man i should keep a cord in here-"

Jack laughs a little. "Sorry, that's not really that funny. I just--yeah, probably, you should carry one. Cords are pretty cheap, though. If we can find a petrol station or a convenience store they're probably selling them there." They walk for a little while more... and then a few drops of rain begin to fall from the sky.

Chase looks up at the sky and scowls, "Offff course- just our luck!"

Jack looks up as well and goes a bit pale. "Shiiiit. Okay, uh--maybe it'll stop soon, where can we--it's all fucking suburbs, of course it is. I need to get a tent somehow, for fuck's sake."

One of the houses nearby has a For Sale sign up. Jack looks at it and hesitates. Noticeably.

Chase blinks in confusion. "Hey like- rain sucks but... it's just rain. We gotta keep looking... If Alt has been alone then- one of those things might have him! I can't stop cuz of some rain..."

"Chase, I know, but--well, if you're from another universe and don't have that much money, I'm going to assume you don't have a place to stay?" Jack says tentatively. "So you don't have anywhere to... change clothes if they get wet and cold? Trust me when I say that wearing wet cold clothes is an easy way to get sick."

Chase hesitates and then looks at the rain, pulling his jacket closer around him. He hears his friends' voices in his head, reminding him to take care of himself. He can't help Alt if he's sick.

After another moment of hesitation, Jack hurries over to the house with the For Sale sign and starts trying the door.

Bro groans and then hurries after Jack, looking around for any sign of danger. Just in case...

Chase doesn't see anything of note. It's all pretty normal. But there is a car coming so they better hurry. Jack takes something out of his parka pocket--a swiss army knife. He unfolds a couple of the attachments and fumbles with the lock on the door until it clicks. "It's always easier than you think," he whispers, and pushes the door open.

"You know... probably not something I should know-I'm kinda a hero back home..." Chase mutters but- he can't let himself be alone right now. He follows closely after Jack.

"Oh that explains some things," Jack says as he steps into the living room. "I mean--you kinda have that personality, but also... Sangria likes fucking with people who are, uh 'good' the most. You know, like... moral. A 'hero' would be a perfect target."

"...bastard-" Chase mumbles as they head inside.

The house is unfurnished, lines in the carpet like it's been vacuumed or cleaned recently. There's the living room, the kitchen, the dining room, the bathroom, and stairs leading up. The kitchen actually has a fridge in addition to the installed counters and cabinets. Maybe it's also built into the room.

Chase looks around and double checks some of the rooms. After he does he finds a wall and then settles against it, sighing and resting his arms on his knees.

Jack looks at him. He sits down across the room so they are facing each other. "This is a dumb question, but... you okay?"

Chase grips at his arms and grits his teeth, "... I'm losing my mind- I... I feel so s-stupid sitting here! But i... I hate that I'm actually scared... to go out there alone. And also cuz you're right- I can't let myself get sick looking for Alt I just... I always had an inkling of where he'd be in the last couple worlds. Or like- we'd find each other kinda quickly. But now I... I don't know- and ... it feels dangerous... there were stakes before but like... nothing felt like this." He laughs quietly and pulls at his hair, "My instincts are going crazy- My like.... h-hero senses- they don't usually steer me wrong... and that means something r-really really bad could be happening to him...!"

"...oh." Jack goes quiet, thoughtfully. "I'm... sorry. I... it looks like it's just a drizzle out there, maybe it won't last that long." He pauses. "It... sucks, yeah. I know. I don't... really know what to say, hah."

There's nothing he can say, really. Chase knows he's wasting time here. But even if he wasn't, could he really protect Alt against anything like this? He wasn't even able to protect him when Magnificent dragged him off in the first place. If he could do that, they wouldn't be in this situation in the first place. He's not really a good brother.

It's hard to breathe.

Chase feels tears coming into his eyes and he slaps a hand over his mouth as it suddenly feels hard to breathe- what- what was happening? Where were all these thoughts coming from?

"Oh shit. I-I wasn't that bad at comforting you, was I?" Jack sits up straight. Then, as he looks at Chase, his brows furrow. "Did something happen? Chase, do you feel alright?"

The thoughts are coming from his own head, of course. They're just louder now. But does it matter where they're coming from at all? Does it matter when they're true?

Chase is shaking, trying not to panic but his chest is so tight. "S-Something's... s-s-something's wrong...!" He gasps quietly. Yes he gets thoughts like this- all the time actually. But... not so loud. Not so harsh- not lately. He had been doing better...!

Jack scrambles to his feet and starts to hurry over, but stops halfway across the room. "Chase, behind you!"

Behind him? Behind him is just a wall.

Right?

Chase believes Jack more than his thoughts right now- He turns around.

A pair of hands grab his head, preventing it from turning entirely. One covers his mouth, while the other grabs his hair right above where--oh, that's not a good spot, is it?

Chase screams and tries to thrash his way out- until he feels the hand next to his scar.

Chase can see something gray out of the corner of his eyes, and his imagination can fill in the details of a face.

He freezes- Why... why does this remind him so much of Distorter?

"Hey!" Jack breaks into a run, lunging at the wall. Suddenly, the hands disappear. Jack slams against the plaster and looks down at Chase, visible eye so wide he can see the whites around the iris. "Okay. New plan. We get the fuck out of this house and risk hypothermia."

As the hands disappear Chase gasps for breath and pulls himself back up. He grabs Jack's arm and runs for the door. "A-Agreed!"

The door is locked.

Chase fumbles with the handle, "FUCK!" He then lets go of Jack and tries to ram himself against the door.

"It’s locked?! Shit!" Jack looks at the nearby windows and go for that while Chase tries the door. The latter rattles in its hinges, but even the strength of Bro Fantastic can't break it down--even though it should.

The windows are locked too. Jack tries using the handle of his swiss army knife as a pike of some sort to break the glass but it doesn't work. "Is there anything in here we could use?!"

"Bro I literally have super strength! S-Something is wrong here- I....!" Chase is trying so hard not to panic, now trying to kick at the door in desperation.

"You do?! Wait, when you said hero you meant like--"

"Yeah dude I'm a super hero!"

Jack shakes his head. "Okay, this isn't the time. There's always a way out. There's always a way out!" He grabs Chase and pulls him away from his (fruitless) efforts. "Maybe somewhere else in the house!"

Bro runs after Jack. He'd fly to find an exit but flying inside is generally not a good idea! He learned that back at the Stitched guys' apartment! He nods though and runs ahead, trying to look for an exit.

There are various windows throughout the house, but they're all locked and made of strangely sturdy glass. The upper floor of the house--with three empty rooms and a closet--is the same.

"There's always a way out, there's always a way out, there's always a way out," Jack keeps repeating, sounding more frantic with each repetition. "There's always a way out, there's always--is that blood?!"

There's a trapdoor in the ceiling of the upstairs hallway. A red liquid is dripping from around its seams. It's not blood. The smell is wrong... sharp. Intoxicating.

Chase skids to a stop in front of the trapdoor, holding a hand out to stop Jack. His eyes widen as he smells it. "... is that... w-whiskey?"

Jack stops to smell it as well. "Oh fuck, yeah, something like it." He covers his nose. "That's a really strong smell. The question is, do we go up there or avoid it as much as fucking possible? Going up there, bad for obvious reasons, but sometimes when you ignore this stuff it just gets worse to get your attention."

Bro pulls his jacket over his nose. God this... smells too familiar. Like one of his really bad nights. It makes him feel sick. "I-It's an attic though- there wouldn't be a way out there, right?"

"You never know..." Jack mutters.

"...if you think it'll get worse if we ignore it then... f-fuck it I guess." He really doesn't want to but- he braces himself then tries to open the trapdoor.

A splash of liquid pours out from the trapdoor as he opens it, followed soon by a fold-down ladder. The attic is dark. It sounds like... like someone is crying up there.

"... I really don't like that-" Chase whispers.

Jack nods slowly, thoughtfully. "I think... I have an idea," he says slowly. "It disappeared when I went for it. It could've just stayed there but it disappeared. Maybe... confrontation is good in this case." He grabs a rung of the ladder. "I know you're a hero so you're probably going to come up with me, but... I want you to know you don't have to."

Chase looks conflicted but he shakes his head. "I can't let you face whatever this is alone... that'd make me a really shitty hero." He tries to laugh, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. "... I'll be right behind you."

"Yeah, I figured you'd say that." Jack smiles gratefully. "...thank you." And he climbs on up, Chase right behind him.

The attic is pitch black and dusty. Parts of the floor are exposed insulation. On the ground are crinkly pieces of old papers. Jack picks one up and looks at it in the faint light coming from the open trapdoor. It's some sort of crude drawing. Done by a child? The crying is louder farther in.

Chase picks up one too and looks at it, "...why... why are these here...?" He whispers. He then swallows and shakily starts to go towards the crying.

"Who knows?" Jack mutters, and follows Chase into the darkness.

The sound gets louder as they get closer. Louder. Louder. Someone is sobbing their eyes out. Until, abruptly, they aren't.

Suddenly, Chase feels a presence behind him right before it grabs him--one hand on his shoulder, another on that same spot on his head. All at once memories come slamming into him, one after another, a highlight reel of the worst moments of his life, of his biggest mistakes and failures.

Chase freezes as he's grabbed in that same spot again and gasps as the memories flood. Tears fall rapidly down his face as he tries to shake all the memories off. Alt getting kidnapped- all the mistakes he made as a hero, driving Alt away to become Impulse- all the the people he endangered by being a hero..!

Isn't it terrible, Chase? Isn't it all so awful? Wouldn't it be easier if nobody had to deal with you?

It's almost too much-

No! No, it wouldn't!

But, then he feels that surge- that want to be better. To do better. His promise to never leave his brother alone again. His friends he'd always keep fighting for.

Chase pushes beyond the sudden memories and claws his way back to the current moment, to the fact that there is something solid behind him, with hands and a face, a strange combined smell of alcohol and old, dusty places coming from right behind him.

Isn't he a hero?!

He is!

He's a hero, god damn it! And he will not be pushed around!

He feels the solid force behind him and yells in determination, swiftly turning on his heel to try to deliver a punch right into the entity's face.

As he spins, he catches a glance of a gray face, streaked with dark tears--and then it's immediately blocked by his fist. Contact is made for a split second before the thing disappears into thin air, leaving him a bit off balance.

"Holy shit!" Jack gasps, and then laughs. "That was the most badass thing I've seen in a while! Amazing, Chase!"

Chase stumbles back, still holding out his fists like he'll need to keep punching. He then laughs and wipes at his face, "T-Thanks-! That was... that fucking sucked-!" He laughs a little more unhinged, his emotions pretty much everywhere.

"Yeah... looked like it." Jack's eye flashes with sympathy. "But at least you pulled it off."

The house shakes slightly. Not... a lot. But... worryingly so. Chase can hear whispers on the edge of his hearing, somewhere in between reality and his mind.

"For fuck's sake!" Even though it won't do anything, Jack pulls out the swiss army knife and flips open the blade. "Listen you little shit. I did not last nine months in a technological hellscape for you to kill me in a house! This guy's not even from here! So fucking let us go!" And the shaking and whispers stop. Jack blinks. "If I knew I could threaten it I would've tried that earlier..."

"... how the fuck did that work??" Chase whispers as he presses up close to Jack. Then, he shakes his head and grabs his hand to look around more- there had to be an exit still right. "F-Fuck it- let's go before it decides to try again!"

Wait--how did they not notice it before? There's a small round window in the far wall! Inspecting it reveals a latch; the whole thing swings outward into the rain.

Chase brightens up as he sees the window and pushes it open. He then quickly apologizes, "Sorry if this is weird!" And then picks up Jack in his arms before flying out into the rain.

"Whoa!" Jack is surprised--because of course he is, people don't fly here! He clings to Chase for security as they jump out. "O-okay then! Be careful!"

Outside it is indeed a drizzle, making the night darker. But the street lamps and light from windows is just enough for Chase to see.

Chase is quick to get them back down to the ground and then he sets Jack down gently. He grins at him and laughs, "Told ya I was a super hero~!"

"You did! Can't say I wasn't warned." Jack laughs. He takes a few steps, making sure that he's on solid ground, and holds tight to the strap of his duffel bag. "You know I used to be afraid of heights... but not anymore."

There's so much more to be scared of.

"A-anyway. We gotta get somewhere out of the rain. Ideally, somewhere public. There has to be some sort of petrol station nearby or something."

"Yeah right- we can try there... If you don't mind- I can get us there a little faster. But, I know its not the best feeling either," Chase laughs, rubbing the back of his head.

“No, no, i-it’s fine, I’m sure you know what you’re doing.” Jack grins, a bit nervous. Just be careful not to be seen, okay?”

"Yeah of course! I'll be quick- plus it's dark so we're less likely to be seen!" Chase scoops Jack back up and then shoots back into the air, quickly looking for a safer shelter from the rain.

It’s not long until they find a small area with a couple shops, some restaurants, and a gas station, all lit up with colored signs and white lights through the windows.

Chase tries to find a shadowed area and then lands him and Jack there, making sure the other man is set down gently again. He shakes the rain off and he sighs, "Okay- we got some options now! Still wanna do Petrol or- i think think there's food around here... we could get something warm to wait out the rest of the rain..."

"...food would be nice," Jack says hopefully. "But we should get you a charging cord first. So you can... do that while we eat."

"oh yeah! let's hop in and grab one!" Chase laughs and then heads towards the Petrol station.

Jack grins, a bit nervously, and follows Chase to the station. It's open, of course, and it does sell charging cords--as well as the plugs and portable batteries--for pretty cheap. They're probably not high quality but it doesn't need to be. Jack hovers near the doors while Chase takes care of buying those. He glances at the security camera hanging in the corner. These looks become more frequent the longer they're there but he doesn't say anything.

Chase remembers that Jack is trying to stay away from tech so he tries to be very fast- quickly grabbing the first cord he can find for his phone and paying for it right away. As soon as he has he hurries back to Jack and holds it up. "Got it! C'mon lets go get food!" He briefly glances at the security camera, just to check before leading Jack out.

"Great. Thanks." Jack smiles as the two of them leave.

There's nothing weird about the camera when Chase glances at it. But a bit after they leave, it swivels a bit, as if tracking them as they walk past the windows outside.

As for food, there a couple places. Nothing too nice, mostly various fast food places--but they are open and that's what matters. Chase can hear Jack's stomach grumble.

Chase chooses the closest one nearby that has coffee. He needs a pick me up, badly. He points to the one he picks with his thumb. "This one good with you?"

Jack nods. "Yeah. I hope they still sell coffee this late. It's been a while since I've had some good dirty bean water." The two of them head over.

Chase laughs, "That's what I was hoping to get too!" He eagerly takes them inside, the thought of coffee urging him forward.

The inside of the restaurant is warm and, importantly, dry. It smells like food and coffee. There are exactly two employees behind the counter, an older woman and a teenager who looks kind of sleepy. The place is empty except for those two--and Chase and Jack now.

"You go ahead and order," Jack says. "Get me a black coffee and whatever, anything will be good. I'll claim a spot."

"You got it~" Chase replies, going up to the counter. He smiles at the employees, "Hello! Can I get two orders of black coffee and um- two plates of fries? chips? I always forget what I'm supposed to call them!" He laughs.

It's chips here, but the teenage cashier understands what he means as she takes the order. "Just one minute," she says. "Here's your table number. We'll call it." She hands him a plastic card with the number two on it and then goes into the kitchen.

"Thanks!" Chase replies and takes the card and hurries back over to Jack.

Jack chose a table by the front windows, taking his duffel bag off and putting it on the chair next to him, leaving the ones on the other side of the table for Chase.

Bro looks around for an outlet and once he finds one he plugs in the charger and starts to recharge his phone. After that he sits down across from Jack and nervously taps his foot, watching his phone screen.

"Got us some chips-" He tells Jack idly.

"Great." Jack's expression brightens. "Food is good. Food is always good." He leans back in the chair. "Especially after a... fucking crisis, jeez. I did not expect to go right into that. I guess it's for sale because of the horrors." He laughs, a bit hysterically.

Chase laughs too, it feels better to laugh then to dwell on... whatever the hell that was. "Pft yeah. Probably... that thing was... so freaky." He shudders.

"It... kind of seemed to latch onto you," Jack says slowly. "Then again, they tend to avoid me after... what happened. So I guess you were the only available target."

"Yeah..." Chase mutters. "It... it's weird I... I almost felt like... like I... related to it... almost. That whiskey? .... I used to drink something that smelled just like that on my bad nights." He grips at his phone a bit harder.

Then, he blinks up at Jack. "Oh right... you said in the house- and... when we met. What... I mean you don't have to tell me if it's too much since we did just meet but... what happened to you...? What's the thing that targeted you?"

“I… I-I never learned what it’s called,” Jack says quietly. “I used to go online a lot, for my job. One day… I thought it was one of those weird creepypasta videos, you know, ‘ooo this thing happened totally for real,’ but… then things started happening. I started blacking out. Having bad dreams. Weird static on all my devices a-and messages and… I realized it was real. So I tried leaving home to see if that would work but… it just followed me. Hunted me down. And took me to this weird… pocket dimension, I guess.” He pauses.

The only word for his expression is haunted.

“I don’t want… to talk about what happened while in there. But there’s always a way out. I found it. And I’ve been.., like this since.” He pauses. “I wonder… if there’s some silent rule between them not to mess with me. Sometimes it seems like it.”

Chase listens with mounting horror. “Dude I… that’s- that’s awful… and you- you were trapped in that place for 9 months?” He shakes his head, “I… I get it. You don’t have to say anything more just… I’m so sorry, Jack..,”

Jack takes a shaky breath. "Thanks." He wipes at his eye. "It... means a lot to hear it. I-I do think I got one of the worse ones."

“Sounds like it…” Bro mutters. He shakes his head some more before going to check on his phone. Surely it had some battery by now, right?

Just as he checks, the phone buzzes as it turns on. As he examines it, he sees... a couple missed calls from Alt. They went to voice mail while it was off.

Chase stiffens and hurries to click on the oldest one, sitting up straighter in his seat.

Everything sounds muffled. Footsteps, a squeaking sound like old hinges, a clatter of metal. Heavy breathing, sobs catching. Then a loud commotion. Alt yells--then screams. “NO! NO LET ME GO! STOP IT!” he cries.

Chase jerks away from the sound of screaming, his face losing all its color. “No- no no no!”

There's another voice there but Chase can't make out what it is over Alt's panicked breathing and the rustling of cloth. “HELP!! SOMEONE HELP! PLEASE!!”

And then, suddenly, it cuts off.

Chase hurries to listen to the next one- please please please be better- be okay please be okay…!

It is not better. It is worse. The message starts with screaming. Wordless, pained screaming. "HELP!" It's unmistakably Alt. "HELP! SOMEONE--CHASE! CHASE!" He shouts for his brother before devolving into sobs. Metal scrapes against something. A stranger laughs.

And then it stops.

Jack leans forward. He can hear the screams on the phone from here.

Terrified panicked tears are in Chase’s eyes as he listens. He holds a shaky hand over his mouth, looking like he’s gonna be sick. He looks at Jack with wide eyes. “S-something- something got- A-Alt…!”

He’s afraid to see if there’s any more messages- but he shakily does. What else can he do?

There is one last message. This one starts with sobbing, heart-wrenching cries. "No! NO PLEASE!" Alt shouts.

A different voice says something--"Nicht bewegen"--and Alt starts screaming again. His voice sounds hoarse and raw. The message stops mid-shriek.

Hilariously enough, this is when the fast food employees say their food is ready. Well, not hilarious. Just absurd. And terrible.

Chase lets the phone fall limply from his hand, tears falling down his face as he stares numbly ahead, unable to take anything in. “G-German-“ He breathes, hardly able to get his voice to work, “There was… German- I know what that sounds like but- w-who?!”

Jack goes pale. "Fuck." He grabs his duffel bag, slinging it around his shoulder again. "Okay, so, these things are worldwide, including Germany, i-in fact there are a lot there. But, from what I'm hearing, I-I think I know which one that was. Do you think you can afford the fare to get there? I-I mean, it'll be a couple train rides and a ferry, but--We could probably sneak on if we had to--"

Chase is still kinda staring out, having difficulty processing all of this. But, slowly he nods and pushes himself up. “y-yeah yeah I… I can. I have enough- h-hero money, you know?” He tries to laugh, but it sounds hollow.

"Okay. Good. I thiiiink I remember where the train station is. They're bound to run a night train at some point. We need to get to the coast for the ferry."

Chase unplugs the charger and stuffs it in his pocket then his phone.

Jack stands up. He runs over and gets their food, bringing it back and practically thrusting the fries and coffee at Chase. "We need energy but we can eat on the way if we have to."

Chase numbly takes the food and nods. “okay… okay…” He breathes, trying not to break down. “we- we gotta go-“

"Don't panic," Jack stresses. "Panic is just going to make the journey worse. I'm not going to tell you not to worry, but don't panic." He takes his own portion of the food. "Now let's go save your brother."

Chase nods and that fire of determination comes back into his eyes. He takes another shaky breath and grips his phone tight in his pocket. “Yeah. Let’s go”

-----------

There's a brief respite when Alt is able to fall into a shallow, fitful sleep. It's not long. Not long at all. But it is a sort of escape.

He's awoken by a pain in his neck. Another injection. Notarzt is not taking any chances that he'll glitch away. Whatever this formula is, it keeps him tired and weak.

Alt whimpers as that now too familiar pain wakes him up. He blearily tries to move again but his limbs are too heavy. Everything is a dizzying blur, mixed with flare ups of pain.

"Hallo," Notarzt says. "Lass uns weitermachen."

At some point, he lost his jacket. No, he didn't lose it. He can see it on a heap on the floor by that rusted sink, right by his ruined shirt. His phone is sticking out of its pocket but it's too far to reach, with his hands or his magic. Not that he can even try, with the injection and the restraints. It's like it's mocking him with how close it is.

Alt’s eyes wander to his ruined shirt and his jacket. His eyes land on his phone and he slurs out quietly, making a grabbing motion with his trapped hand even if he can’t reach. “…Chase…chase…”

Notarzt notices the movement and tilts its head, looking thoughtful. It disappears out of sight for a moment and then returns with some sort of… metal clamps? It slides one onto Alt’s arm just above the wrist restraint and tightens it until Alt can feel its sharp edges digging into his skin. There’s no blood but there could be at any moment. But that’s not all. There are three other clamps, and Notarzt attaches them at regular intervals along Alt’s arm, ending with two on the forearm and two on the upper arm.

Alt stiffens as the clamp is put on and he shifts his eyes to try to look at what’s happening. “Wha… wha’re doin’?” He slurs, panic coming back into his hoarse voice.

Instead of answering, Notarzt takes out a length of metal filament, thin as string. It ties one end to a loop on the clamp near Alt’s wrist, then feeds it through similar loops on the others, connecting them all. It ties the other end to a small metal tool with a hook on the end—and stabs the hook into Alt’s chest just below the collarbone.

Alt screams and thrashes in his binds, “F-Fuck!”

Notarzt laughs and pulls out another syringe—where the fuck does it keep getting those?! They just pop out of nowhere! But this one is slightly different. The liquid inside is green instead of clear or red like it usually is. It injects Alt in the other arm.

Alt grits his teeth against the syringe and pants, trying to glare at Notarzt. But he’s so tired…

It takes a minute for this to take effect. And when it does—it’s strange. Alt feels his magic stir, like it does when he’s getting ready to blast someone with electricity. But he can’t control it. He can’t even glitch properly.

Alt jerks when he feels the power rise and an instinctual noise of pained surprise escapes his lips. What was happening?? How is it accessing his magic??

The power just keeps rising and rising until it suddenly concentrates on the spot where the hook is.

An electric shock centered on that. The metal filament shivers, transmitting the electricity—it’s all along his arm now, muscles spasming in response.

Alt can’t help but scream again, trying to pull away from the arm that’s spasming.

It’s not over yet. Notarzt picks up a long thin blade and slices down the seam of Alt’s jeans on the other side as the clamped arm. Then it grabs—oh no, it’s more clamps. It puts them along his leg in the same manner, including linking them with the string with the hook on the end. Then it stabs this hook into Alt’s stomach just above the hem of his jeans. The effect is instant this time—the power rushes to that hook as well and soon his leg is being shocked too.

Tear are streaming down his face as Alt tries to jerk away from the part of his body that feels on fire. His voice is already cracking from the screams. His other hand digs more rivets into the table as it tries to claw into it. His eyes flash bright green, crackling energy around him. But, it's all being used against him. "S-Stop..!" He tries to wail but his voice jolts and spasms alongside his muscles and he just lays back and sobs and screams- hoping this will end soon.

Notarzt leans over the table, not reacting much to Alt’s screams. It simply stands there, drinking it in.

Three minutes. It lasts three minutes, and then, slowly, his power starts to fizzle out. The pain fades, leaving behind a shadow of itself, and his muscles finally relax.

Alt fully slumps to the table, head lolling as far as it can in the restraints. He gasps and pants, breath coming out ragged and pained. His eyelids flutter and his eyes roll around in dazed pain. He whimpers and tries to find Notarzt. "...wh...wha'did you d-do...?" he croaks.

“Es ist zu kompliziert, es dir zu erklären.” Notarzt shrugs, a human motion that looks out of place when made by it. “Oder vielleicht will ich es einfach nicht.”

Alt's head is swimming- trying to see if he recognizes any of the doctor's words. He doesn't... he wishes Henny was here. But, then, Notarzt would be hurting him too. He chokes on a quiet sob, missing his friends more than ever. Missing glitches- the kids... Oliver... what if he dies here? What if he never sees them again?

It turns away, walking—not to the trays of tools, but to the sink. Even though it should have been too rusted to use, water comes out anyway. Notarzt returns with a… surprisingly normal-looking glass of water. “Normalerweise würde ich das nicht tun...” it says, and reaches out to undo the restraint on Alt’s neck.

Alt quiets as he hears the sink running. He looks confused up at Notarzt and wary, looking between him and the glass as the restraint is removed. Against his better judgment, he feels himself relaxing without that pressure on his scar.

"Trink das." Notarzt lowers the glass to his face, propping one hand behind Alt's head to push him up.

Alt is so thirsty he doesn't even question it, he eagerly drinks the water, closing his eyes to try to focus on not choking.

If Alt wonders that there might be a trick, there isn't. It's just water.

Notarzt makes sure he finishes it before going back to the sink and putting the glass back. "„Nichts Dauerhaftes“ schränkt meine Möglichkeiten wirklich ein..." it mutters, running a single gloved hand along the tools.

Alt falls back to the table, hungrily drinking in air after he's done. He weakly look around the room, his eyes landing on his phone again. Notarzt used his magic against him... but maybe he has some back...? He weakly tries to open his hand, seeing if he can summon his phone to him at all.

At first, nothing happens. But then--then there's a tiny glitch on the screen. The phone shifts slightly, moving out of the pocket.

Notarzt doesn't notice, it's too busy messing with the tools.

Alt's eyes widen and he smiles a bit. Then, he tries to move it more, gritting his teeth and putting as much energy as he can into it. If.. if he can call Chase... he might be able to glitch out of here...! ...if he can find a way to glitch that is...

The phone moves a bit more, falling out of the pocket and onto the clump of fabric that used to be his shirt. Slowly, inch by inch, it moves across the floor, dragging the shirt with it, thankfully muffling the movement. Until suddenly it skids across the floor and gently hits the side of the table.

Alt is straining- sweating as he tries to make the phone respond to him. He freezes as the phone clangs against the table. He holds his breath.

Notarzt stiffens and glances back, but turns back around when it’s satisfied Alt isn’t escaping.

When Notarzt turns back around, he opens up his hand more and tries to get the phone to fly into it. He might not have the strength though…

…

……

Yes! It barely makes it, but he’s got it by his fingertips.

Alt’s heart soars as he scrambles to get a better grip on the phone. Please don’t drop it- please…. He tries to maneuver it so he can unlock it- if he can… he’s memorized the motions needed to call Chase. The only question was… would he be able to glitch away? He hasn’t been able to glitch at all with all the chemicals Notarzt has been pumping into him.

Slowly, painfully slowly, he calls the right number. The other end picks up immediately—and for just a couple seconds he can hear Chase’s panicked voice.

Alt laughs breathlessly as he hears Chase’s voice, “C-Chase!” He desperately tries to glitch-

SKREEEEEKEEKEEKEEKEEKEE— An awful static noise comes from the speaker.

For a split second, Alt thinks he can hear a voice in it.

Notarzt whirls around immediately. “Nein!” it shrieks.

Alt shouts out in surprise and panic and his grip on the phone loosens as he cringes away from the sound.

Notarzt rushes forward. In an instant it snatches Alt’s phone away, stabs a blade through the meaty part of Alt’s hand between the thumb and forefinger, and throws the phone out through the ajar double doors.

Alt screams as his hand is stabbed and then shouts as the phone is thrown away.

“Was haben Sie getan?!” It shouts at Alt. “Was haben Sie getan?!?!” It sounds angry—but, is that… panic beneath the anger?

Alt glares angrily at Notarzt but seeing the doctor’s expression, he loses his bravado. He shrinks back, eyes wide. “I-I… I don’t know…!”

Notarzt screams wordlessly. It grabs the blade in Alt’s hand and pushes it further, driving it into the table beneath.

Alt’s back arches painfully as the blade is pushed further into his hand. He sobs out, “m’sorry! M’sorry!!”

Then it spins around and leaves the room, doors swinging closed behind it.

Alt can’t even bring himself to look at the doctor rushing away, just shutting his eyes and breaking down. He was so close.., so close!! What… what stopped him?

And.. why did it seem to scare Notarzt?

…Why does he feel like he’s being watched?

[hendyo-98]

First drawing of the New Year, folks! Let us Rejoice! Who wore it better this time? Anti or Ruby Rose from RWBY? I’ve wanted to draw him in Ruby’s costume since before I drew him in Penny’s costume last year, but never had the motivation to till Christmas, so yay! Again, in my personal opinion, Anti looks good in skirts and with long white hair. Want me to draw costume crossovers with Anti and other egos? Comment down below your suggestions or DM me! Thank you!

[a-song-of-art-and-fire]

The Kingslaying

"The Kingslayer. The false knight who profaned his blade with the blood of the king he had sworn to defend."

A rather gruesome little diorama for this, our spookiest of months! I've said before how much I love all things Robert's Rebellion, and Jaime's kingslaying is right up there. I think it's a fantastic aspect of GRRM's writing that we're told outright at his first appearance that he's "the kingslayer", and write that off as 'well he must just be sneaky and treacherous as all Lannisters are", and it's only two books later you learn he had complex, nuanced, straight-up heroic reasons for doing it. The heady mix of seige, betrayal, potential patricide, actual regicide, and mass human sacrifice to achieve twisted apotheosis into draconic godhead... it feels like 6 different Greek tragedies crashed headlong into one another, and seeing it all though a haze of steam, hormones, and septic delirium is just... *chefs kiss*.

This diorama was actually pretty thrown together compared to my usual standards. My ASOIAF minis are from a war game, so they need to come up with a lot of distinct units for multiple armies, and the books being pretty low fantasy only really give "late medieval man-at-arms" or "conscripted peasant levy". As such, you get some fairly weird and wonderful units, such as every Baratheon soldier having Robert-style warhammers, or in this case a whole unit in Jaime's lion helmet. For me, this translates to a lot of alternative Jaimes.

I am a bit phobic with Jaime, as I once had to swap his hands very last minute, luckily here he's young and straightforwardly right handed. I don't think the close up is at quite the right angle, but you can see his green eyes under the visor, I'm pretty happy that they look quite frightened/panicked. I added the cloak as well, got to have that iconic "It was that white cloak that soiled me, not the other way around" vibe. This is also the first time I've given him his oft-mentioned gilded sword, I love the blood on it forming the Lannister colours.

Talking of the blood... yes, it's a lot. In my defence, it's actually semi transparent in a way that doesn't show well in photos, but does make it marginally less intense. I also know Jaime actually pulled Aerys up and slit his throat, but I had a hard enough time posing these figures, i thought that would be beyond me. I also like the literal nature of stabbing him in the back, and Mark Addy's delivery of "What of Aerys Targaryen? What did the Mad King say when you stabbed him in the back" is burned into my memory.

Aerys himself is a random wizard miniature I had kicking about, I had to do quite a bit of resculpting to get him right. He has the scabs on his hand, but the Howard Hughes fingernails were beyond my sculpting skills. I made the falling crown myself, again, seven tiny dragons felt a bit ambitious.

[gammija]

"I’m quite a private person, so the idea of going round and trying to meet my neighbours at all was not one that I gave a lot of consideration."

It's occurred to me before that a lot of statement givers are self-described solitary people, even in statements where the Lonely doesn't seem to have an influence. Now I wonder, are lonely people more likely to have/survive an encounter, or do people with a good support system just not end up giving their statement to the Magnus Institute?

Also, hang on...

"His hood was pulled back and I saw his face was covered in puckered, septic lesions and holes. I couldn’t tell which of them had once housed his eyes."

"When I looked at that heaped pile of meat, it moved. I don’t know how… I don’t know quite how to explain it, other than to tell you that it opened its eyes. It opened all its eyes."

Missing eyes and lots of holes... meat monster with lots of eyes... i am connecting the dots, this is our first case of body swap via eye transfer /hj @a-mag-a-day

[possumcollege]

I keep seeing this guy brought up as some kind of contemporary folk hero, and it's fucking gross.

Marvin Heemeyer, the killdozer guy was a petty, libertarian, asshole, who gave zero fucks if his homemade tank killed people. Do not believe the goddamn internet fanboys who say he only targeted property and empty buildings. He could've murdered god- knows how many if the city hadn't evacuated most of the town once he started ramming buildings and shooting at the police.

Heemeyer was a fairly successful business owner who bought cheap land for his muffler shop, then tried to get sweeter and sweeter deals when the people he bought it from wanted to buy it back to built an enclosed concrete batch plant. The buyers agreed to accept his price even as he jacked it up at every stage. They offered him a land swap at one point for property closer to the interstate, but he kept demanding additional improvements so the deal fell apart. At that point he spread rumors about the plant to gin up support to torpedo their building permits, purely out of spite. Once the town learned of his agenda they stopped supporting him.

Also worth mentioning that this entire time he had been illegally dumping raw sewage into irrigation ditches, contaminating the town's groundwater because his business didn't have any sewer lines. The city explained how he could go about linking up to nearby lines but he didn't want to pay. He was offered free assistance by city officials on multiple occasions and rejected it. Instead he turned the buried barrel of an old concrete truck into an improvised septic tank and pumped it into said ditches when it rained.

His business was never threatened, but he did harbor a number of insane grudges because he was a fucking crank. So he bought the bulldozer, loaded it up with guns and armor and drove out with a hit list of his personal enemies, which included the catholic church because he just flat hated catholics.

He shot at the police repeatedly, as well as the people who rolled out their own heavy construction equipment to try and stop this bizarre death-tantrum. He plowed into a library with children inside. He also attempted to use the guns he had on board to detonate a giant propane storage tank that could've killed hundreds of people. He demolished buildings that as far as he knew were still occupied. Then he got stuck in a hole and killed himself rather than face the consequences of his bullshit.

The legends of him being a good man pushed too far are horseshit. He simply didn't think laws should apply to him. Marvin Heemeyer was an asshole. He was an avatar of entitled white male rage and I will post as such whenever he's mentioned forever.

[darksideofparis]

I can now provide a possible solution to your "threat at Sarah Jane's funeral" thing, a submission post later about our view of The Doctors arriving at her funeral (cos he doesn't come in the official Farewell Sarah Jane!!?)

So when Sarah Jane died, Luke, Rani and Clyde were all around the world. Luke was with UNIT, Clyde at an artists convention and Rani investigating (i believe). And everyone attended, Tegan and Nyssa, Mickey and Martha (and their son August!), Ian and Barbara, Ace, Ben and Polly, Jo Grant, Kate Stewart, Dodo, Dr Grace Holliway, Liz Shaw, Victoria, Captain Jack who turns on the outskirts and salutes. It's beautiful

But there's a threat. The Trickster and his servants called The Jackals of The Backwards Clock, infiltrate the wake and plan to swap Earth with "a foul copy from the septic dimension" The guests unite and lock The Trickster in a chest at the bottom of The Atlantic Ocean for 1000 years. Could work and having The Doctor actually show up would probably mean a lot to Luke. Plus Alex meets K9

Anyway, I also have more questions!

1). How does Alex react to suddenly having a wife?

2). What happens in Prisoner of The Judoon? Does Alex stay with 13 and RuthDoc or end up with Jack (who is her son in law at that point?)

3). Additionally, what is Alex's reaction to finding out there's so many lives her wife can't remember?

4). How do Alex and Karvanista react/interact? Is Karvanista happy for his old old friend?

5). Will Alex regenerate in Pros and Cons?

6). When does Daffy happen?

7). How do Alex and 10 interact in the 50th anniversary?

8). Adding on to 7, how does Alex fit into the 50th anniversary cos I can see 2 ways. 1 where she takes Clara's place and stops 11. The other where she puts her hand on The Moment too and says something like "this time you ALL don't do it alone"

9). Does Alex take a Time Lord name? Like The Doctor, The Rani, The Master, The Monk, The Corsair etc etc?

10). How does Alex react to 15 just breaking into song on The Goblin Ship?

11). Was Alex always a Time Lady? Just trapped in a fob watch? Did her parents ever really exist?

12). How does Yaz's crush work with 13 and Alex being married for a LONG time by the time she joins the team?

13). Will Alex be trapped in The Confession Dial too? Will she stop 12 or join him and go too far and lose her memories too?

14). Will Alex find out The Doctor's name?

15). Would Alex ever kill?

Very interesting! The events of 'Farewell, Sarah Jane' could definitely work in regard to what I'm thinking of doing, just with a few changes and details put in. We'll have to see if that's what I end up doing!

Now, on to the questions!

Alex is, admittedly, slightly startled by 12's regeneration into 13, but she very quickly accepts her husband now being her wife, no worries there.

So far, I've got Alex staying with 13 and Ruth!Doctor in 'Prisoner of the Judoon'. I also have Jenny appearing with her husband, Jack, in that episode, but I'm not sure Jenny and Jack will interact with Alex and 13 outside of what happens in the episode.

Alex is stunned but, once she really thinks about it, not too surprised. Bit of a spoiler here, but I'm going to be leaning in the Season 6B fan theory, which does suggest that the Second Doctor worked for the CIA (Celestial Intervention Agency) and the Time Lords before his forced regeneration, and subsequently had much of his memories wiped. The idea I'll be going for is that the Ruth!Doctor is from that time, a regeneration between 2 and 3, so in that context, it isn't too surprising to Alex that her wife would have a life that she couldn't remember. The Timeless Child stuff, however, really takes Alex aback.

I'm not sure how Alex and Karvanista will act towards each other. I can see Karvanista reacting to her with the same hostility he shows towards the Doctor, but we'll have to see if that's the direction I end up going in.

Alex will regenerate in The Pros and Cons of Silence. Possibly more than once. And the regeneration might not be a normal regeneration either. . .

Daffy is conceived during the Doctor and Alex's time on Earth guarding Missy's vault and her first proper appearance is in 'The Pilot', where she's a student at St. Luke's.

Once 10 realizes Alex is his future wife, he's pretty flirtatious towards her, and the feeling is very much mutual . . . much to 11's annoyance, lol.

Now that you mention it, I feel like Alex might very well place her hand on the Moment and quotes her and the Doctor's wedding vows, specifically the part about "for better or worse". I still want Clara to be the one who actually stops them, a little bit of a contrast to Alex, who has long since accepted the ultimate demise of the Time Lords.

Alex doesn't take a Time Lord name. She doesn't see any reason to, nor does it ever occur to her that she could.

I think Alex will be kind of like "What the hell?" at first, but quickly go along with it, lol. And she will sing a little bit!

Alex is descended from a Time Lord. A couple centuries ago, a Time Lord, ahem, became involved with a female member of Alex's family, who gave birth to a part Time Lord, part human child. The Time Lord gene has been passed down Alex's matriarchal line, with the gene getting progressively weaker with each passing generation. As the Doctor states, had Alex had any children before Demons Run, the gene likely would have died out with them. But Kovarian managed, with a lot of manipulation, to kick-start that gene into transforming Alex's body from primarily human to primarily Time Lord (hence the term the Doctor uses, genetically manipulated Time Lord). So, no, Alex hasn't always been a Time Lady, nor was her essence ever trapped in a fob watch, and her parents were 100% real and did exist.

In my version, Yaz will not have a crush on the Doctor, so it's a non-issue between her, 13, and Alex.

Alex will join 12 in the confession dial, yes. I think she will join 12 in trying to save Clara but come to the realization that it's hopeless sooner than him. Either way, I don't intend to have Alex lose her memories (with her mind, it's doubtful the process would even work).

Yes, Alex will find out the Doctor's name. Specifically, when they get married.

Yes, Alex will kill. When she does make her first kill (which will take place in Pros and Cons) it will be a deliberate parallel between her and the Doctor.

[whump-town]

Watching 

This is entirely based on the fact that I firmly believe all of Hotch and Prentiss’ friendship comes from what happened with Foyet. Here it’s trauma bonding (and honestly, same thing in the show tbh) but still

word count: 8,ooo

no pairings, no warnings – just foyet and shit

----

With tears in my eyes, I begged you to stay.

You said, "hey man I love you, but no fucking way".

“Foyet went septic,” Emily whispers. She’s not brave enough to say it any louder, to speak his name into the dark corners of the room when she already feels him looming in every doorway. Taunting. It’s in her head. The fear builds on itself. And all she has is time to unwrap each layer. To sit and question – who will Foyet go for next? If it were Emily, if there was a gun to her head, a knife in her chest, could she make it? Before she thought she could. Emily is a decorated agent, she’s strong and more importantly, she’s smart. But… Hotch has been torn apart, trained professionals aren’t sure how to even put him back together. Could she do that? Would she even want to live through that?

Rossi doesn’t respond to her question, he’s standing in the doorway watching the nurse take Hotch’s temperature again. There is early, precautionary conversation being had about ventilation, threatening the words respiratory distress. But Rossi’s seen Foyet’s medical files, the chest x-rays lit up with the damage from the sepsis. Honestly, he doesn’t say anything to Emily because he doesn’t know what to say. 

The nurse stops to whisper to Rossi and Emily stands up, interested in whatever couldn’t just be said out loud. “What?” she asks as soon as the nurse steps away. “What is it?”

Rossi shakes his head. “I need to talk to him for a second,” he says. 

Emily staying with Hotch tonight, it’s already been decided. No security detail for Hotch will be arriving, likely, anytime soon. And none of those agents will be coming within the hospital, so they’ll do it themselves. She’s already been here the longest and made her peace sitting in that visitor’s chair. Derek will be by when he gets off with Emily’s go-bag, a change of clothes more suitable for hospital sitting. 

Rossi won’t tell Emily what the nurse told him. 

Derek doesn’t come up to Hotch’s room, he stands outside the hall’s doors and waits for Emily in the waiting room. He’s been back once and that’s enough for him, for there are other things that he has to do right now. Pressure is already coming from above to keep things on their feet, to make sure no one can be distracted. Derek can’t spend another second in that room and risk getting distracted. He just can’t think about this right now. There’s work to be done. Intense demands and someone has to do them. Somehow that’s him. 

Emily feels for him but she doesn’t like it. 

There’s absolutely nothing to do in the hospital. Hotch sleeps and Emily doesn’t disturb him, even though she’s certain he’s faking. She won’t bother him with any more questions, the best thing that can happen today is for it to end. And Emily doesn’t know what to say. She’s his friend, she thinks, but Emily is also quite certain Hotch needs to be left alone. He needs to sleep, even if it’s just faking sleep. 

Emily takes a nap and sleeps through JJ’s text, visitor’s hours long over. By the time Emily responds, JJ’s asleep. Emily doesn’t need anything but does ask about Reid, knowing she won’t get a reply until morning. 

Midnight passes with a nurse sweeping through the room in the darkness. Hotch doesn’t move as she adjusts the oxygen canal under his nose and waits for the blood pressure cuff on his legs to inflate. Medications are swapped and Emily sits up a little, watching doses being swapped, and empty bags being replaced by new, full ones. Emily watches the valve open, clear liquids spiraling back through the IV. Hotch’s breathing hitches a moment later and Emily watches him slowly blink his eyes open. 

“Hi, Agent Hotchner,” the nurse greets. “I’m Beth, I’m gonna check your head a little bit, okay?” She inspects the bruise on his head first. There’s dried blood over the skin, a thin layer just faintly discoloring the already sickly green bruise. Hotch gives a breathy whine, trying to turn his head from her fingers and she apologizes, eyeing Emily as she sits forward, watching them both. “Just a little light,” she warns and Hotch groans again. “I’m sorry, I just need to see for a second.” She’s quick but it’s hard, Hotch is tired, too tired to be orderly. “Alright,” she clicks the pen off and Emily perks up, waiting. The nurse pulls Hotch’s blanket back up to his chest, tucking the canal back behind his head when he eases back into the pillows. 

“He’s doing good,” the nurse says softly. She’d come around the side of the bed, whispering from the door so she doesn't disturb Hotch anymore. “I’ll be back in a few hours, let me know if you need anything.” 

Hotch sleeps. 

Emily can’t. 

It’s not terrible being awake at this hour, sitting in the room half-lit by machines, Emily just sits back. She just waits. Except it’s entirely too much time to be in her head. Around three a.m. Emily is reminded of what will happen again in the short hours to come. Once already, Emily had been witness to the bandage changes. No blood had touched her but Emily could feel it. The sticky wet of half-dried blood crusted to the gauze. She could smell it, she could taste the bitter metallic taste on her tongue. Every time Emily closed her eyes, no matter how hard she tried to force her mind from it, she could see the glue of the bandage peeling off Hotch’s skin, lifting off wet, angry wounds. 

Hotch is asleep, so Emily steps out into the hall. She goes all the way to the waiting room. Hotch was asleep but he could be sneaky, and Emily didn’t want him to hear her calling Rossi. It was cowardly just calling Rossi but she couldn’t do it anymore. Emily needed a break from the blood, pained breaths, and twitches. She goes to the waiting room and prays that Rossi’s insomnia has left him restless, too anxious to sleep. 

There’s a knife to his throat when Hotch wakes up, he can feel the burn and the obstruction of the blade pressing into his airway. Making each breath harder to get than the last. He’s on the living room floor again, his fingers twisted up in the rough carpet strands. Each breath seems to expand a hole in his lungs. The air must be escaping. It must be going somewhere else because it’s not going in. 

“Agent Hotchner?” A nurse attempts and fails to gain his attention. His eyes are glassy slivers, unfocused as he wheezes on. “You’re having some trouble breathing–”

It’s as if her speaking the word ceases his ability to do it. He turns his head to the left but no air can come into his lungs, just keeps pressing underneath his nose. His ears ring as his face gets hot, as his body cramps up. Morphine doesn’t begin to touch the nerves that come alive. His chest is a massive ball of fire, surface wounds, and deep burns. Inside and out. 

The bed is laid back further but Hotch is not aware of the sudden panic happening around him. His vision spots, his thoughts getting a little more out of his reach, as his body is moved against his will. A thumb pushes his chin down and cold metal touches the back of his throat. 

“Agent Hotchner just stay with us.” 

Hands rip at his blankets, exposing him to the cold air of the sterile room. A mint-colored glove grabs his hand, stops what little fight he has to protect himself. His entire body is lit up by pain and disorientation. He wants to move to stop it, to fight them off, but he can’t. He can’t move. He can’t think. He can’t breathe. 

“I’m getting no breath sounds on the left side.”

“Still no kidney output.”

Hotch has read Foyet’s file front to back. He knows every detail. He read the hospital reports, searching for hours and hours for that one little thing. He knew it was there, and it was, but he couldn’t find it. What he did find were medical reports. Infinite details on how and when Foyet’s kidney’s shut down. Foyet was heavily guarded, an officer was present outside his hospital room as he lay in a coma. He had several months of dialysis and now has a permanent script for vasopressors. CTs still show scarring in his lungs from the sepsis. 

On particularly long nights, only the scent of coffee in the air and an empty pot in the machine, Hotch had traced those scars onto his own body. Something about the late hour and the emotional turmoil that case brought him caused such questionable behavior. But he was alone, living in an apartment out of boxes he hadn’t unpacked. The insanity of those days knew no bounds. 

He’d taken a kitchen knife in his hands and tried to figure out how. Nine. He couldn’t imagine how there was that much room on one human body. Enough space for nine stab wounds. He walked himself through Foyet’s description of the attack. Tried to conceive his own reaction. 

He doesn’t have to guess anymore. 

—-----------------

Emily comes straight from the hospital to work. She changes in the car and ties her hair up, preparing herself for what she might face once she gets inside. But there’s just Derek. The entire office is silent, it’s just the two of them in here. Derek is working at his desk, the sound of his rapid typing drowned out by how loud his music is playing in his headphones. He’s in the zone, typing at a furious pace that Emily doesn’t dare interfere with. Which leaves Hotch’s office empty. JJ is with Reid, Reid is in the hospital. Garcia is… well with Garcia, keeping tabs on her direct location is just never a good idea. It’s better not to know. 

Hotch’s office is… fine. Emily expects it to be something else, to be hit with some strange wave of emotion but it doesn’t happen. The place could use an air freshener but it’s not bad, a little cold. Emily feels vaguely like royalty, Hotch’s desk chair is way better than hers and it’s nice. Not to mention the couch. 

Emily makes it to ten, in the morning, before she caves. Her brain is rather dead, it’s done. Emily tries to sleep on the couch. It’s comfortable but she can’t think of anything good. She remembers walking back into Hotch’s room last night. 

She can only think of last night. 

“– rising again, got a temp of one o’ four.”

“Blood pressure is tanked, eighty-nine over–”

“Still no urine output–”

And as she stepped into the room no one noticed her. A man was climbing up over the stretcher, placing his hand over bandages on Hotch’s sternum. His fingers getting covered in the iodine still slathered across Hotch’s skin. It wasn’t even Hotch’s bare chest they were working with, they were doing compressions over bandages. Pressing down on wounds that were already just barely held together.

1.. 2.. 3.. 4.. 5.. 6..

Deeper compressions.

Breath.

16.. 17.. 18..

Breath.

Deeper compressions please. 

Looking for a shockable rhythm. 

Breath.

Stop. 

That shockable?

Back on.

Breath.

1.. 2.. 3.. 4.. 5.. 6.. 

Breath.

Keep your compressions. 

Breath. 

13.. 14.. 15..

Stop. Shock. 

Back on.

1.. 2.. 3.. 

Emily left her post. She can’t forgive herself even if she knows it’s not her fault. But it’s all just too much. Logic isn’t working its way around this one and all Emily has are emotions. Guilt. Guilt on top of guilt. Just guilt. 

The couch eventually works its magic. She’s had one rather sleepless night already, once she finds Hotch’s hidden blanket Emily sleeps hard and long on the couch. 

Guilt is exhausting. 

On the left side of Hotch’s desk are large drawers – the entire desk was large, it had to be – Emily couldn’t help getting bored and snooping through them. She’d already seen most of the contents of the first drawer. It was the smallest and Hotch “uses it to store pens” but there are more types of candy in that drawer than all the pens combined. Even fewer of those pens work. The second drawer has a few files in it, hidden underneath a thin law book, and a few things purposefully hiding them underneath. She knows most of the cases: Katie Jacob’s uncle, Karl Arnold, Adrian Bale, Vincent Perotta, but too many were unsolved, too many she didn’t know at all. He was just sitting up here torturing himself with these, looking back and forth trying to figure out how they could have been quicker. 

The last drawer was the magic. A quilt. It was giant, truly the proper size, she imagined, that a blanket might need to be if one were a giant. She raised it up over her head and still the ends did not come up from the floor. Magic indeed it was. Cocooned by his stolen blanket, Hotch’s office couch was all Emily needed. 

Derek knocks on the door a few hours later, just as Emily successfully managed to be awake. There are tears in his eyes. He tells her about the carpet. Emily wishes he wouldn’t but Derek keeps speaking, telling her how he’d lifted the cut section of the carpet and the wood beneath was stained. Bleach had brought up some of the staining but it left Derek covered in bleachy blood. It was nearly impossible to cut through the thick fabric, hardened stiff by the amount of blood that had dried and hardened within. 

Derek tried to smile as he spoke about it, to try and excuse the tears in his eyes. He’d thrown up, eyes stinging from the bleach, he just couldn’t wrap his head around it. Hotch’s blood. 

It just… he couldn’t make sense of it. 

Emily doesn’t tell him about the hospital. 

Shee gets by with hiding in Hotch’s office for three days. Just when she’s starting to think she’s gotten away from it, that she’s been freed from the expectation of going to the hospital anymore, Dave calls her. She’s expecting a lecture, some disapproval but he wants breakfast. Something warm and something good, he meets her down in the lobby. 

“Oh, you’re such a dear.” This is why Emily is his favorite. He didn’t even think to ask for coffee and she’d brought him some, mixed so perfectly. “Thank you.”

Emily has no idea what’s happening until it’s too late. And then she’s trapped at the hospital all over again. It’s the lack of sleep. It’s made Rossi malicious, uncaring, and entirely willing to just desert Emily at the hospital. And Emily’s too damn tired to realize it’s happening. 

She’s afraid to see Hotch but it’s entirely anti-clamatic. He’s asleep, like Dave already told he’d be – like he has been, that’s all Hotch really does. Emily sits down in the visitor’s chair, watching Hotch carefully to see if he wakes up. He doesn’t. Occasionally, the heart monitors spikes and Hotch will shift, fitfully. Soft noises leave his chapped, parted lips. Pained, Emily decided to believe they are, because it’s easier to sit with than fearful. Pain is what gets him going, he’s held down by all the drugs, too much to wake up but not enough to escape the pain. He cries in his sleep and that’s the worst part. 

Emily comes up with a lot of ways to ignore him, to hear things other than him. So Emily doesn't hear what it is that he says when he finally manages to wake up. It feels like a miracle, or at least impossible really, that Hotch is looking back at her right now. That he’s there, she recognizes him, even with his pale face and bloodshot eyes. “Hotch?” Emily asks, leaning closer to him. His voice had been paper-thin, she thought she’d heard him ask for Dave, but she approaches with frail hope.

He turns his head away from her and Emily feels the sting of the rejection, sobering for both of them. The pain doesn’t abate, it doesn’t stop clouding Hotch's mind but he feels more grounded, suddenly brought back to the front of himself. Living in his body, not thrown feet from it, like an oversized helmet. He struggles to catch his words, fighting momentarily against the assault of air coming from the canal in his nose. But it is easier, it’s enough air. “You shouldn’t be –” Hotch closes his eyes as he takes another deep breath, struggling for enough to speak. “– to be here, the hospital is–” 

It’s frustrating. He knows what he means to say. It’s all in his head, it makes sense there, but his mouth is going off on its own. Unscripted. 

“You shouldn’t be here.”

Emily huffs. Hotch looks over at her, watching her smile and shake her head. Her arms are crossed, she’s giving him a look – he knows what it means but he couldn’t explain it right now. He can’t understand right now those subtle gestures, he’s too stripped down. It’s a new low, for Hotch. He feels suddenly weaker, a new weak: true vulnerability. Foyet pinning him down with a knife was life and death, survivable. This is being thrown in the ocean with weights tied to his ankles, he’s out in the deep end with no idea how to swim. 

She’s sure he meant that as an order. “Well, I am.” Emily says, and what’s he going to do about? “Orders from above, gotta keep my eye on this real pain in the ass. Boss said I had to.” 

Hotch felt like he’d spent years in the hospital already, just staring at nothing for hours until the exertion of simply being awake took its toll. His head felt heavy and dense, thoughts come slowly, malleable, and often paranoid. He spends hours doing nothing and as if for the kick, he’s suddenly reminded what it feels like to have a knife knick his ribs, and all he can do is lay paralyzed by pain that the morphine is trying so hard to convince his brain isn’t there. In all that time, he hadn’t actually thought about the BAU. Not as in the present tense, not as in what must be happening there if he is here. 

Hotch hopes it’s Derek, anyone with any sense would know Derek is who the team needs. 

“It’s –” Hotch grunts irritably as he pauses for another breath. He needs three before he attempts to speak again, rubbing his dry tongue across his lips. “You’re a week behind – your paperwork…” He’d seen it only a day ago, no matter how long ago that already seemed. Emily was behind and he’d never known her to be on top of paperwork, not without him reminding her. 

Emily smiles, “so? It’s not your problem right now. Strauss orders are 24-hour protection, I’m doing my job.” 

24-hour protection? It’s noble but Hotch doesn’t think Foyet is coming back. He’s paranoid that Foyet will, he feels Foyet is here, but he won’t be back. This isn’t cat and mouse, Foyet isn’t going to keep playing with him. He’s too smart to come back now. Foyet knows, as Hotch knows, that if he comes back, it will kill Hotch. It won’t matter what Foyet does, Hotch’s heart can’t handle it. That’s not something Foyet would risk, he wouldn’t end the game so soon, not so easily. 

Hotch looks over at her with dead, bloodshot eyes. “Seems excessive,” he rasps, dry and flat. 

Emily smiles, shaking her head. “Evidently, you’re worth it.” She shrugs a little, “I’m here aren’t I?” Emily feels suddenly shy, “you want some water?” The pink pitcher on the tray is half-full and lukewarm, it’s nothing special, but he hasn’t had much to drink. He doesn’t need it, Emily understands that, but maybe a little would be nice. She’s already standing, he’s getting the water whether he wants it or not, Emily’s far too nervous now to sit still. 

Emily pours the water carefully, her hand trembling and making it harder to pour the water into the tiny cup. Equally distracting, Hotch has closed his eyes again, shut tight. It hadn’t been better to watch him cry in pain in his sleep but it hurts exceptionally more for Emily to watch Hotch try and keep stoic when she already knows how bad it must be. She’s heard him whimpering in his sleep, crying and distressed. And even now, he can’t hide it. 

“Here.” Emily holds herself stiff, bent awkwardly so she can hold the cup out for him. She has to hold the straw still and she watches it carefully, painstakingly distracted by their proximity. Counting the seconds in her head as they pass, waiting for each slow second to tic by until she can move back away. Put some reasonable distance between them and try to distract herself from the hospital part. 

“Who?” Hotch asks. He’s thought about it so long now that by the time he finds the words to ask Emily, he’s forgotten what he needed to say. Emily looks at him but not as if he’s grown a third head, this look he recognizes. The face she reserves for Reid, it’s something like compassion, something like maternal instinct. Logically, Hotch doesn’t think she wants to be here. That’s what she’d said, afterall, he’s a ‘pain in her ass’. Hotch feels bad that she has to be here. “Who did Strauss give the position to?” 

Emily frowns, “Unit Chief? I don’t think Strauss is giving it to anyone. Morgan is waiting on your say-so but Dave is preparing the transition, it’ll be Morgan if you choose Morgan.” She crosses her arms eyeing Hotch. She’s not stupid, the position. His words might be neutral but she knows the intention behind them, Emily knows him better than she realizes. “Are you going to choose Morgan?”

Hotch looks away from her, shutting his eyes for a moment, and when they open he looks at the wall. “Derek is an exceptional agent, the BAU will benefit from his leadership.”

Emily hums, “he is, good.” 

Hotch glances at her and then away again.

“But you know… Morgan isn’t going to want the job forever.” Emily sits back down in the visitors’ chair, “and I don’t think he’s the only person who agrees that what the BAU will really benefit from is having you back.”

Hotch closes his eyes.

––––––––––––––––––––––

“Love,” Emily repeats incredulously back to Rossi, “Love! I don’t even like the guy!” 

Rossi ignores Emily’s anxious rambling, instead watching the nurse prepare the supplies. He didn’t know she was afraid of needles, it seemed a rather silly thing to fear in comparison to the things they do daily for work. Rossi knows Emily doesn’t mean it. She’s already more than proven herself wrong. 

“Dave, please, I learned my lesson,” anger has melted to bargaining. What lesson she’s talking about… Rossi doesn’t know. “Please, please you’re just joking, right? Someone else has to be able to do it too. Right?” The size of her actual fear of needles has increased tenfold as her anxiety is pressured by the time constraint being presented to Emily. 

“Emily,” Rossi tries to remain calm despite the way she’s holding his hand – crushing the small bones in his hand into one another. “It’s a pint of blood.”

Sepsis was the scary word that Emily was worried about. She felt pretty relieved today thinking they were another day in the clear, one more in the bag, and things might just be alright. And then blood transfusion had come into play. Emily hadn’t even considered that. She didn’t even know Hotch’s blood type. 

Emily had accepted she might have to give blood, but she didn’t think she’d really have to. Surely, between the whole group of them, one of the others had to be O negative like Hotch. Surely. But noooo. Just her. What luck. What fucking luck. And Dave has been rambling about this love business. Emily doesn’t love Hotch, she can hardly stand him. No, she really doesn’t want him to die, but shit, she doesn’t want to get stabbed by a needle for him either. 

Emily’s hand tightens around Dave’s as the needle gets closer, and her socks slide against the slick plastic covering the chair beneath her. “Wait, wait–” she says, quickly, “Why can’t we wait!?” The nurse pauses, glancing at Dave as Emily keeps her eyes pinched shut tight, her whole body turned as much as she can away from the needle. Dave gives the nurse a nod, Emily’s a trooper. She’ll be fine. 

“Oh–” Emily breathes out, “oh fuck, you’re not putting that in my–” Emily holds her breath as the needle pierces her skin. It’s nothing. A pinprick. It doesn’t hurt, it hardly registers enough to hurt. “What’re you doing with this stuff?” Emily asks, nervously. She feels like she can feel the blood coming out like it’s leaving her cold already. “Does it go right in the bags? Do you have to do anything to it or can it just go like right in Hotch? How does that even work if it’s my blood, you know? It’s mine, not his, won’t his body know? What happens if–”

“If you’ll just sit for a moment,” the nurse interrupts patiently, “it shouldn’t take long. Let me know if you need anything, I'll be back in a second with a snack and a drink.” 

Emily nods, leaning back in the chair and blowing a slow, big breath out of her mouth. 

“You’re a good friend,” Dave offers, in the silence, watching Emily shift uncomfortably with her left arm stiff and straight. 

Emily huffs, rolling her eyes. “I hate him.” 

Anger is a simple emotion. Clear, easy. Emily leans into it, pushing herself into the farest corner in Hotch’s hospital room. She crosses her arms tight to her chest, refusing to look anywhere near Hotch. 

Rossi leaves her to pouting, there’s only so much he can do at once. And right now, all of his attention is on Hotch. Watching his weak gasps fog the oxygen mask, Rossi had expected a stronger reaction. He’d watched the dark blood snake through the IV, the anticipation killing him, and there was nothing. 

Nothing eased. Hotch remained gasping, laying unresponsive. 

The first twenty minutes Rossi had been warned were all they had to worry about. If something were going to happen, it would happen then. 

Emily’s waiting for it too. Tense, her eyes can’t leave the lock. What if there’s something wrong with her blood? If it’s not normal and his body rejects it, it’ll kill him. That’d be her fault. No way to say it other than that. 

Twenty minutes comes and goes, nothing happens. 

Hotch’s temperature goes up, sitting at a hot one hundred and one degrees. Enough to pull him from his slumber, frustrated and hot, trying to fight his way out of his blankets but unable to call his limbs into action. 

Rossi stands and gently redirect’s Hotch’s agitated hand, holding it up and away from him. Preventing Hotch from making another sloppy failed attempted at grabbing his blankets – instead just repeatedly getting the wires attached to him tangled around his hand and jabbing blindly at his bandaged side. He might not feel it now, but Rossi couldn’t imagine that even if the abuse was unfelt that it should happen. 

“What is it?” Rossi asks, giving Hotch’s hand a squeeze. He has to bend closer, put himself in Hotch’s line of sight before Hotch’s focuses on him. “What do you want, Aaron?”

Hotch looks away from Rossi again, whimpering before he shuts his eyes. 

Emily swallows thickly, looking away from them. 

“Aaron?”

Emily pushes herself off of the wall, sniffling as she comes up on the other side of the bed. “He’s hot,” she says, simply, pulling at the first blanket overtop Hotch. When she goes for the second, Hotch opens his eyes. Unfocused, glossy but right at her. She looks away, focusing on the blankets. Emily turns her back the moment she can, blinking tears away fiercely as she folds the blankets over one another. 

When she turns again, Hotch’s eyes are closed. His head still turned in her direction. 

––––––––––––––––

Time is the ultimate illusion, at least that’s what Hotch’s drug-addled mind feeds him as he finds himself standing in front of his apartment door. The hospital was at least a few hours ago, he can’t keep days and hours separate. They blend together like rice he’s trying to decipher in the palms of his hands, outstretched and sticky with dried blood. It slips between the cracks in his fingers, spills down onto the ground, and scatters out across the floor. 

He knows Derek brought him back to his apartment, and offered to stay but Hotch refused. There was work that needed catching up at the office and then it was Derek’s turn to scoff, “I’m not bringing you paperwork, man.” But he’d been on the couch then. Only the vaguest memory of blurrily scowling at Derek as he left, feeling the weight of a blanket covering him. “Take it easy,” Derek whispered, and then Hotch was laying down. He can’t remember how he got that way. 

There’s another knock at the door and he startles and flinches in a way that makes his chest light up. Moving his arm makes him aware of every stitch on his bicep, every sharp tug of the skin trying so desperately to remain held together. Somewhere, a phone starts to ring and he’s aware it has to be his but it’s god only knows where. He’s surprised the ringer is even on. JJ had it while he was in the hospital, and turned it over to Derek. He’d find, once he’s curious enough to go look for it, that she’d sent out a flurry of emails making sure everyone knew to contact her with any new emergencies, not him. 

“Christ,” Emily swears as he finally manages to get the door open. “I know you’re doing the stoic thing but for fuck sake answer the phone when I call!” The last time she was on this side of his door getting nothing back but the sound of his phone echoing through his apartment all she found was a pool of blood. She doubts that’s a sound she’ll ever recover from hearing. And the longer it went on, the more her anxiety climbed. It’d been only four days since the last time. She’s not recovered from this particular trauma enough to face it without assuming the worst. 

He stares at her. Too many words. She’s saying so much. 

“Listen,” she says, lifting up her duffle bag. “My pipes are trashed.” She motions with her other hand to her hair, pulled up in a mess at the top of her head in what he recognizes was once a bun. “I haven’t showered in two days. I stink, I can’t even sleep.” Partial truths, most lies have them. “Let me use your shower?” 

He gives one slow blink, starts to lean a little to the left, and straightens himself back up. 

“I’m taking that as a yes.”

Her pipes are fine. Her apartment is fine. She really hasn’t showered in two days but it’s been chaotic, and she’s been spending all her time between the hospital and work, trying to get paperwork down.  By just being around him, she’s aware of how stressful this job is for him. The bending over backward that he does for them but she’d never seen it like this. She’s never had that stress put in front of her, demanding her attention for hours at a time. 

“This place is a shithole,” Emily mumbles, tossing her bag on the table. Hotch is already walking away from her – “walking”, he uses the couch to guide himself, moving his weight to his left arm and using the couch as a crutch. His left hip is still tight, the stitches too painful, and he can’t put all his weight down. Anything to keep his abdomen from taking any more weight than he has to put on it. He’s not even standing, he walks so hunched into himself Emily can look right into his eyes. He’s lost half a foot curled in on himself, holding his right arm around over his chest. 

And then, of course, he also looks like hell.

“When was the last time you showered?” Emily asks. He smells like blood, metallic and sweaty. 

Hotch hasn’t showered in at least a week but he can remember, explicitly and graphically, every second of the three sponge baths he’d received. Hotch ignores Emily, instead curling up on the couch. Sleeping on his right side hurts the least, so long as he lays the right way. There are pillows, balled into shape by the hours he’s already spent laying across them, perfectly molded. Hotch returns to his nest, slipping back underneath his blankets and closing his eyes. 

“Dick,” Emily whispers, rolling her eyes. She gets her bag and goes back to his bathroom. She’s familiar with the layout of his apartment, she’s hauled his drunk-ass home multiple times. Honestly, more often than drunk, concussed. But, behaviorally, it’s pretty similar for him. 

He’s asleep when Emily comes back out of the shower, her hair still in a towel but her clothes changed. She just leans out into the living room to see how aware he is, but he’s snoring, so Emily sneaks back to his room. His apartment is freezing, she needs socks and sweatshirt – she’s sure he has plenty. He won’t even notice. 

He doesn’t, for a while. 

Hotch wakes up with no memory of the previous few hours. “Where’s Jess?” He asks, just the tip of his nose and eyes peaking out from his blanket. He’s still got his hands twisted up in the fabric, pulling it to his face, and muffling his voice. But Emily’s sitting right beside him, managed to scoot down on the couch underneath his legs. Effectively burrowed in beside his nest of pillows and blankets. 

Emily pops a handful of snack-mix into her mouth, “huh?” She hadn’t realized he’d stopped snoring. “Jessica’s at work.” Work is everyone’s preference these days. It’s nothing at all against Hotch in all honestly. It’s not that he’s a bad patient, even though he really is, it’s just hard. It might be selfish but if Hotch could get away with it, he would too. 

He says something else but it’s lost to the blankets. 

“If you wanna talk, you gotta move the blanket from your face.” Emily says, reaching over and giving his blanket a little tug. His response is to poke back out of it’s cover a little, all furrowed dark brows before he pulls the blanket back, a sharp pull. Emily laughs. “Alright,” she smiles and for good measure she pokes him again. Just for fun. He kicks her. It’s hardly a kick, he can’t move well, but his leg is already across her lap so all he has to do is bend his knee – nudge her with his heel. “Hey,” she grumbles, pushing his heel back. He laughs. It comes from underneath the blankets, only a breathy chuckle but Emily hears it. 

“Bastard,” she accuses underneath her breath, though she’s smiling. Emily turns her attention back to the movie but all she can think about is the fact that he laughed. She couldn’t really remember the last time she’d seen him smile in a while. Things certainly hadn’t been good recently. 

Hotch starts shifting. It’s slow, careful, like he’s testing each ligament and muscles. This is where the hospital had been far more helpful. Doped up and swimming between hazy reality and agony, Hotch hadn’t had a concern in the world about a catheter. He couldn’t think. He wasn’t worried about the bathroom. But out of the hospital… things are a nightmare. 

Emily sees exactly why it had taken him so long to answer her at the door earlier. Getting Hotch standing is a battle, one Emily hadn’t really expected, but Emily pushes her way in, because that’s what she’s good at. Emily just forces Hotch to let her help, giving him no choice but to use her proximity. 

“Oh–” Emily bites her tongue, holding back the flurry of stupidity trying to fly out of her mouth. He’s always heavier than Emily is expecting. Hotch looks like he’s going to be light, especially now, as the hospital has melted him down. As his body drains itself to keep him alive. But he’s a big guy, she’s just not sure where he’s hiding it.

The last steps to the bathroom Hotch takes by himself, dragging his left leg on the carpet as his hip remains stiff and immobile. He holds himself up on the frame of the bathroom door, glancing back as Emily takes two nervous steps back from him. She looks quickly between him and the bathroom, “I’m not going in there with you.” 

Fine by him. Hotch hasn’t been in the bathroom unmonitored in days. This will be the first pee he’s had without an audience in too long of a while. He leans his weight onto his arm, using the counter, and he feels more whole. Something so simple, he’d taken it for granted. Standing to pee and breathing through his nose… the small joys of life.

He has to sit, before he can wash his hands, catching his breath and waiting for his hands to stop trembling. Emily knocks on the door and he’s just aware of her enough to grunt back, not really an answer to her question but he’s still breathing so Emily considers that good enough. 

She’d been waiteing nervously, he realizes when he opens the door and she’s standing right outside it. “All good?” Emily asks, and Hotch ignores her. He takes a shaky step on his own, and scowls as Emily slips in underneath his other arm, leaving the one on the wall free. “If you want to sleep in your bed, we should probably get the pillows from the living room.”

Hotch drags his palm against the wall as he walks. 

“Are you… ignoring me?”

Hotch stops, catching his breath for a moment before he looks up at Emily. “No,” he exhales, lifting his head as he takes another large breath. “Walking… talking… can’t do it, at the same time.” His shoulders try to lift with the next breath, winded, but fall quickly as his side tugs painfully. Stitches pull taunt in his skin, all his self-control goes to holding his breath through the pain, stopping any sounds from escaping. It’s sharp, smart pain, distracting, and it’s not until the pain begins to fade that Hotch realizes how stiff he is, that he’s stumbled back against the wall, using it to hold himself up while his hand presses urgently to suppress the pain. 

“Sorry,” he whispers, forcing his hand back to the wall. “I’m fine.”

Emily raises her eyebrows and nods, “alright.” He always says the strangest things. But he’s a strange man.

Other than nabbing his clothes a few hours ago, Emily really hadn’t spent that much time in Hotch’s room. It looked about how she expected. Tidy, bland, simple. There were still things on the floor – a tie thrown over his bedside lamp, pants in a puddle kicked off at the closet door, a few socks bunched up and forgotten. 

Hotch finds his strength once they get close, weak legs moving him steadily on toward the familiarity of safety. 

He doesn’t care about anything else. 

Emily leaves him to get comfortable, she doesn’t really feel the desire to watch him shuffle any more than she has to. It’s not something she enjoys. When she comes back to his room with all the blankets and pillows she could grab from the couch, she has to poke around his blankets to find him again. 

“Are you–” Emily isn’t even sure how many blankets she’s pulling back before she finds his head. Black hair is an easy find, at least, underneath mountains of colorful blankets. “Are you good in there?”

It takes him three owlish blinks before his eyes focus on her. “ ‘m okay.” 

“Uh-huh.” Emily nods, and looks over the door, making up her mind on the assumption that Hotch would asleep by the time she began to move.

“Are you leaving?”

Emily stops. She’s at the end of his bed, fully intending to go but now she can't. “Do you… do you want me to?”

“No.”

They’ve watched sexual harassment seminars about this kind of stuff. Emily never thought that could be her, but if Erin Strauss walked in here right now, there’s no way they would keep their jobs. There were definitely rules about sleeping with your boss. But they didn’t really cover how pathetic and sad those men would be – no one told her he would be her friend, that she’d want to stay, that he might be important. Emily wasn’t prepared for this. 

She’s stiff, a little uncomfortable as she sits down on the edge of the bed. Emily’s on the entire other side of the bed, away from Hotch, and she’s having to psych herself up to get closer. Silly, all things considered. This was where the line was supposed to be drawn? Not at blood transfusions? Calls to the Vatican? Not at quitting her job?

He gives her a blanket. He peels it off from the top layer of his blanket mound when she’s not looking, it’s already waiting for her when she gets the nerve to sit back. 

It’s probably the nicest thing any has ever done for her. And, yeah, she has to blink tears out of her eyes but she hasn’t been sleeping well and that can cause people to act crazy. That’s all. 

It’s not that bad. Emily had shared beds with Derek too, a wall of pillows between them. It happened enough that they’d lost the pillow wall after a while and it waslike sharing a bed with her cousins. All night long all they did was elbow one another back and forth, lots of blanket yanking, and kicking. 

Hotch doesn't move. 

Emily tries to sleep but it doesn’t come as quickly for her as it does Hotch. She can hear the difference in his breathing, it takes him only a few minutes. Not that long after she’d settled, his breathing evened out, and she could hear his soft, breathy snores. 

Emily moves slowly, careful not to wake him as she turns over on her side closer to him. The room is bright, it’s still pretty early in the day, and so she just lays there. The bed is soft, she’s very comfortable but she can’t sleep. Besides, she’s never been this close to him before. And he’s always been interesting to her, like a bug she can’t catch. And here he is, trapped, and she can see him, observe him. What she’s seeing is his need for a shave and a hair-cut. 

He just doesn’t seem real. There’s gotta be a trick, some sort of set-up happening right in front of her. Rather elaborate but certainly a trap. Her emotions will inevitably used against her and this is simply the gathering, a knife that will turn and turn buried to it’s hilt in her chest. 

“Are you okay?”

Emily jumps, hand flying to her chest. “Jesus,” she whispers, palm against her pounding heart. “I thought you were asleep.” Emily should have known better. Hotch never sleeps and when he is, he’s just faking it. 

Knife. Chest. 

Her guard is too far down. 

When she looks back at him, Hotch is still looking at her. He looks ridiculous. His blankets are tucked under his chin, giving him the mobility to turn his head and look over at her but he looks like a child’s cherished stuffed bear – dirty hair sticking up on his head and dark, glassy eyes were doing him no favors. But Emily knows better than to be fooled. She folds her arms back against her chest, “what?”

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

Emily props herself up on her elbow. Her first instinct is to fight but he’s so damn pathetic… The bruise only adds to his natural pout, the dark circles under his eyes takes her out. She can't even be mad, not enough to be properly defensive. Stupid idiot. So Emily smiles, “you first.”

Hotch puffs, turning away. He’s tired, too tired to be keeping his eyes open and fighting off unwanted conversations. So taxing. Why must she be this way? “I asked first,” he answers, a moment later. It’s hard to be clever these days, Exhausting stuff.

Emily squints at him, “technically I asked you first. Days ago.” He doesn’t remember but he believes her. He’d lost count of who had asked. “I’ll talk when you talk.”

“Mm,” Hotch closes his eyes. Fine by him, he doesn’t want to talk anyhow. Not about anything, really, but certainly not about this. 

Emily falls back on the bed with a huff, crossing her arms. Staring at the ceiling doesn’t get her anywhere. Just stuck in her head. “It–” Emily closes her eyes, she can hear Hotch turn his head against on the pillow, looking over at her. “It would have really sucked if you’d died.” 

Hotch smirks – he’s got no control of himself under these drugs, crying and smiling seem to be the things he can no longer control. He repeats sucked to himself with a little chuckle, nothing that comes from the depths of anywhere. He can’t even think about his core muscles without feeling the extent to which they had been destroyed. Sometimes, when the pain was it’s clearest, Hotch felt as if he could feel the holes in his body. Burrows from the depths the knife had plunged. “Very articulate.”

Emily rolls her eyes, but she can’t help but smile too. She looks over at him, anticipating the look she knows she’s getting right now. It’s that much harder to be mad, to be annoyed, when he’s there. Emily had spent days in the hospital waiting for him and here he was. The Hotch she knew – the smartass she hates. “Well,” Emily says, “I’d get over it. It’s just be inconvenient.” 

“Mm,” Hotch grunts.

He hadn’t even died and inconvenient was putting it mildly.

“Garica wouldn’t,” Emily says after a long moment of silence. All she’s done is turn over her last reply in her head, thinking about all the things that it could communicate. All the ways his stupid head would break it apart until it was something worse, something it wasn’t – that she didn’t care at all. And that just isn’t true. “She adores you.” 

Hotch pries his eyes open. He thought they weren’t going to talk about this? “Only one out of six,” Hotch mumbles, “but my performance reviews are always so good.” 

Emily laughs and Hotch smirks again, but she can see he’s pushing himself. His eyes are hardly open and his responses are getting slower and slower. “We don’t want to hurt your feelings,” she offers, mocking sympathy. “I know you’re sensitive under all that grumpiness.” 

Hotch’s eyes are closed but he gives a sleepy grunt, “ ‘m not grumpy.”

“You just keep telling yourself that.”

[huffle-dork]

Swap into the CrystalVerse Chapter 23: Horror Septics

Co-written with @crystalninjaphoenix 

Read Swapboys | Read Horror Septics | AO3 Link

Prologue | Switch | Stitched | PNPT | Septicheroes | Fantasy Masks | Horror

Taglist: @brokentimewatch @di-diwata  

What follows is about an hour of frenzied activity while the doctors take Alt to the emergency room and examine him. True to their word they let Chase stay in the room, though Mag and Jack have to wait nearby and observe through a window. After all this, the doctors conclude that Alt is very injured and lost a lot of blood, but will recover from it all eventually. The highest priority is the cocktail of unidentifiable drugs in his system. He'll need at least one night for his system to detox--not to mention get some good rest. So they take him to a room in the recovery ward and hand Chase some paperwork to fill out.

When he asks about the fee, one of the doctors from earlier takes him aside and quietly tells him not to worry about that. "We get some of you... sometimes," he says softly, and then hurries away before Chase can ask for elaboration.

After what feels like forever, the whole group is squeezed into a private hospital room with a wide window and a small TV in the wall.

Alt is finally sleeping somewhat peacefully, bandaged up and hooked up to IVs and monitors. Chase hates seeing him like this.

Mag has turned into his cat form and is hiding in the corner of the room, watching the shadows for any movement.

Jack has not said a word since they left Notarzt's home.

Chase looks to Jack and smiles at him tiredly. "Hey... Jack? Uh... t-thank you so much for helping us... but um... are you okay? you.. you don't have to stay here anymore... if you don't want to. We'll... we'll be out of here... soon hopefully."

Jack stares at Chase wordlessly for a second. Then, suddenly, the TV turns on, showing nothing but static.

Chase jumps at the TV turning on. Alt seems to curl up, holding a hand against his ear to stop the noise.

Jack quickly jumps up and rushes over to turn it off.

He breathes a sigh of relief and walks back over. “I want to stay,” he says quietly. “But I don’t know if I can. I…” He pauses. “Do you remember what Alt said about not being able to glitch? Maybe… that’s my fault. I-I told you that the thing hunting me uses technology. I-I don’t know much about Alt’s powers but… they seem… similar. Maybe… it blocked his powers. But maybe… if I go, it won’t be able to.”

The hero leans in close to listen, his eyes widening. "...Why... Why would it be messing with Alt's powers? Just because they're similar...? ...I dunno if you going would do anything though... it sounded like this happened while that freaky doctor bitch had him. ... what if this is just to lure you back out? I can't have that thing dragging you away!"

"Heh." Jack smiles. "It... means a lot to hear that. But you guys have to leave eventually. And I think we know we can't fully defeat them, even if we may be able to... work around them. For a while. As for why it would happen in the first place... I have no idea. Maybe it's just jealous of there being someone else out there who can mess with tech." He shrugs. "If... you don't want me to leave... I won't." There's hope in his voice, but also trepidation.

Chase looks at him with soft eyes, "...I don't want you to go. You... you really helped me here... even though you didn't have to. ... I can at least repay the favor for as long as we're still here."

Jack takes a shaky breath. "...thanks," he whispers. Are there tears in his single visible eye? He looks away quickly so Chase can't really see. "I really hope you guys don't come back here, but on the off chance you do, I... I hope you remember me."

Chase looks concerned, "...why wouldn't we remember you? ... i mean Mag might not care but he's an asshole so don't count him." Chase tries to laugh, "But... of course I'll remember you."

Jack smiles sadly. "Think of it like... a curse. It's hard for me to stick in people's minds." He leans back in the chair and sighs. "But... anyway. You should rest. I think your seat reclines."

Chase looks more worried at this. But, Jack has a point. He is really tired. He looks for the recliner part and then laughs when he finds it. "Oh hell yeah! Fancy~!" He smiles at Jack and then gives him a softer, more concerned look. "...try to rest too Jack... okay?"

Jack nods. "I will." To demonstrate, he closes his eyes. But he doesn't like to sleep. He doesn't like to risk having dreams. So he stays awake for longer than he should.

The night passes peacefully, and soon the sun is rising again. Jack wakes up around this time, but everyone else takes a couple more hours.

Alt wakes up a bit before Chase does. And, he notices the medical equipment around him and immediately starts having a panic attack. The monitors beeping- the iv in his arm. Even if he's not strapped down- the bandages feel like how the straps felt- and that's more than enough to send him further into panicking. He starts to hiccup and gasps for breath, sure that Notarzt is right around the corner, about to inject him again.

"Whoa, hey!" Jack immediately stops pretending to be asleep. "Hey hey hey. Alt, right?" He stands up and walks a bit closer--though not too close, in case that would make all this worse.

Alt snaps his head over to Jack at the voice. And for a second- he almost thinks... It's his friend Jack from home. But... it couldn't be. Now that he's looking- there's no way.

"You're safe now. Look." Jack points to the window. There were no windows in that... maze of hallways and operating rooms. "Outside. This is a normal hospital, not that thing's fucked up pocket dimension."

Alt does listen though and looks towards the window- and seems to relax, breathing a little less rapidly. He shudders and then really tries to look at this guy. "... w-who... who are you?" He whispers, as if afraid to raise his voice too loud.

Jack sighs. "Uh, well... I'm ħĨ¦¶Ÿ, but your brother's been calling me... I-it's funny, I wonder if he thought I was your friend Jackie, so he called me, you know, a shortened version of that." He pauses. "That was probably a long explanation, uh... a-anyway. I know you guys are from some other world. I'm from here. I've... I can relate to what you're going through right now..." he says softly.

"Shortened... Jackie...?" Alt asks, brain feeling scrambled. "...Jack... ha... I.. for a second... y-you kinda reminded me of my f-friend Jack... back home...." Alt smiles shakily at him.

Jack smiles sadly at the mention of a friend back home named Jack. could it be...? Well, he doesn't have time to dwell on it.

Then. Alt blinks and seems to remember, "oh...! You... you helped me- back in... in that place... You helped Chase and- ... and Mag was there too." He furrows his eyebrows at this and makes a face. "...why was Mag there...? and... w-where's Chase?" As he asks this slight panic raises in his voice.

"Yeah, I was there. I-I said I'd help Chase find you. As for, uh, Mag... that's a longer story..." He doesn't get to tell the story himself, though.

A hand comes to hold Alt's and even though he startles slightly he relaxes as Chase smiles at him. "H-Hey hey... I'm here- I'm awake...!"

Magnificent rises from his slumber too, but stays lurking in the shadows, watching the others carefully.

As Chase appears Jack decides to let the two of them have that moment. The TV flickers on for a moment. Not long enough for anyone to notice.

Alt blinks and then smiles at Chase and almost immediately starts to cry. "C-Chase-"

Chase is scooping him up into a hug, IV and equipment be damned. He buries his face against Alt's shoulder and tries to hide the way his shoulders are shaking and his voice is cracked with emotion. "I'm so sorry we took so long Alt- I tried to find you as soon as we could! I'm... I'm so sorry I left you- I'm so sorry that thing got you...! I'm sorry... I'm sorry...!"

Alt blinks and then goes to wrap his arms lightly around Chase, letting his own tears fall quietly. He wants to tell Chase it's okay... but he'd be lying. ...none of this was okay. But, he doesn't want Chase to blame himself. "... you found me in the end... that's what matters, okay...?"

Bro nods and then slowly lets Alt go, quickly wiping at his face. "Yeah... yeah... h-how are you feeling?"

Alt laughs a bit, "Like complete shit... I... don't know how else to describe it.... like- like a cut up sausage I guess-"

Chase finds himself chuckling at that.

"Hah..." Jack smiles a little. He can't help it--there's something so absurdly accurate about that comparison, from what he knows about Notarzt. "Well... I'm pretty sure that it won't be coming after you. It... let us get to you, so I-I think it's done with you. Don't worry. You won't have to deal with that again." Doesn't mean they won't have to deal with other stuff while they're still in this world, but he's not going to say that.

Alt looks relived at this, nodding to Jack with a small smile.

Again, the TV flickers, the speakers letting out a hint of white noise.

Once the tender moment is over, Magnificent slinks from the shadows and turns back into his human form, baring his teeth slightly. Mist clings to his feet. "Alright- enough of this frivolity. We need to leave this place now. Alt- can you feel your powers-"

He doesn't get to finish his question before the tv speakers let out noise. And Alt immediately tenses and covers his ears, curling in on himself.

Jack spins over to the TV with wide eyes. He hurries over and makes sure the TV is off again. It is. But that's not good enough. He finds the plug and pulls it out, letting out a sigh of relief. "A-anyway. Apparently Mag is an asshole, from what I've heard, but he's right. If... you can go... you guys should. A-any universe would be safer than this. Probably. How'd you get here anyway...?"

Alt lowers his hands and then panics slightly patting his pockets to see if he still has the TRVLR.

He does. When he sees if he has enough power to turn it on, he does--though the jump button is grayed out. He must not have given it enough power for that yet. The red warning bubble in the middle is still there. Tapping it reveals the same message that he saw when he first arrived here:

WARNING

Lethal ALTRs detected in Current Location: (!)UA-1031019HS. Please jump as soon as possible.

Alt seems to relax as he finds it and powers it up- but not nearly enough it seems. He curses. Then goes to answer Jack, “We… we used this thing. I can supply it with enough energy with my magic- but.. I guess I’m still kinda drained…”

Chase narrows his eyes and tilts the screen to read the warning. He pales. “Ah Jesus… t-that would have been nice to know!”

“I… I didn’t know- I think we picked this one by mistake,” Alt comments quietly, “I tried to call you to warn you right away but then that’s when… when it-“

Chase’s face softens and he pats Alt on the shoulder. “…it’s okay Alt.” He then narrows his eyes at Mag. “you heard him, cat bitch. Not enough magic to jump yet-“

“I’ll give him some of my magic!” Mag argues.

“Oh hell no! I’m not letting your freaky magic touch Alt anytime soon bitch!” Chase snaps back.

"You know, I did just say you should leave, but I don't think it's uh... a good idea to introduce any... foreign power to Alt's systems... right now?" Jack says carefully. "Look, uh, le-let's give it a little bit longer, okay?"

He looks at Mag. "I know you're worried about Cait Coill. But it can take years for it to collect sometimes. You pissing it off doesn't guarantee it's going to show up at any moment."

Magnificent bares his teeth at Jack for calling him out. But, he doesn't say anything more.

Jack looks back to the brothers. "Anyway. Alt. I noticed your clothes got, uh... wrecked a little. I noticed an outlet store nearby. One of us could... go get something for you?"

Alt blinks up at Jack and then moves the blankets to see his ripped sweatpants. Bro also holds up his shirt and Alt's face falls. "...oh... uh... y-yeah that'd be... really nice actually..."

"Your jacket is okay though," Bro reassures him, handing it to him. Alt smiles slightly and takes it, holding it in his arms.

"Okay," Jack says quietly. "I could... um, if you gave me your sizes and some cash, I could head over really quick." He glances at the TV nervously. "I won't be long."

Chase blinks and then looks through his bag, pulling out some cash and handing it to Jack. "Here- Alt's a medium."

Mag huffs and goes to sit in one of the chair.

Alt glances at the TV nervously too. "um.. t-thanks Jack..."

The TV is quiet. Of course it is, it's unplugged. What are you expecting?

"Thanks." Jack gives them both a small smile. "I'll be right back. I'll try to get something like your last stuff." And with that, he stands up and heads out.

Alt smiles warily as he watches Jack leave.

Chase sighs and sits back down, but he does hand Alt his phone. "Oh yeah- I found this outside. How the hell does yours still have battery? I swear mine was dead when we got here."

The glitch shrugs with a light laugh, "I dunno- maybe me using my magic to jump charges it."

"Why the hell didn't mine charge then?"

"I dunno man! I can't control that! Maybe you just need a better phone!"

"...isn't yours stolen?"

"nooo- this was from Jackie i think-" Alt comments lightly. He flicks it on- it's very close to dying but not yet.

As soon as he turns it on, he gets a text notification. The banner disappears unusually fast--too fast to even see a preview of the message.

Alt blinks in confusion and opens up the message.

It's from a number simply listed as "Unknown." ÑñŜ§ŬţġöēŴHelloĴŝêśįģųÝåþŦÚń¨«ĩÄìĽãÊij íźĔīĆvisitorIJĭęúÇ£ĥŲıħăËūùÏŋ* ĻŇňÛ¶Őďŗ¼®ėŽņĖYouŕÎõě©żŖóĘőķŊæ ¾»ŷĀĤareŢ¿ŤŨáŁ×ĶŹĝāŪèŶůâ´ÉĊĞŃlikeÐĐʼnü·¤¬meðŭ¥ëř

"The fuck?" Alt mutters under his breath, "How am I still getting spam across dimensions?"

As soon as Alt exits his messages, there's another one. This time the banner lingers for long enough for him to read.

ê¸×üšĝřÖĪŰĊ¥NotĸŷŃŬŊď¨Ă奄ßĈspamŶťġ¹ŵáŝıΪ

And then another soon after that.

Alt

Alt's stomach drops as he sees the message- he... he could see other words amongst the nonsense. Not Spam He gasps slightly as he sees the text with just his name. He drops his phone and scoots back.

Wait- if he noticed something in there then- He checks the first message again.

You're.... like... me

Now Alt really chucks his phone and this causes Bro and Mag to react.

Chase is by his side in an instant, "Alt? What's wrong?"

"M-Message-!" Is all Alt can try to say through his panic.

The TV turns on again.

Alt cries out and covers his ears, curling up and then looking up at the TV in fear.

Bro stands up and looks at it with confusion. "W-what? Didn't Jack unplug that??"

He did. In between the bursts of static everyone--even Alt with his ears covered--hears a voice that sounds like their own, distorted and twisted.

"¢ñŶÅPlayingŘľĬwithïĢŒmyĴÊĠtoys?üÝöĭ ľĬÔŎI ņ®ōdon'tÓŞūlikeĊõ¨Ś¾toğ±´Żshare.ĸÑÌ ĘŖ·SeeÚěìyou¦âðśsoon.ŪĿŽÚ"

And then, abruptly as it turned on, it turns off again.

Alt shakes in the bed, curled up tight into a ball as he chokes on a terrified sob.

Bro backs away from the TV, eyes wide. "W-What the fuck...?"

Magnificent stiffens and then glares at the tv with his teeth bared, power pulsing in his eyes.

Even once the the TV turns off, nobody moves. All they can hear is Alt's panicked breathing.

Minutes pass. Five. Ten. Nothing happens.

Bro and Mag relax after the first few minutes of silence. Bro tries to walk over to Alt to comfort him, but the glitch refuses to uncurl. He just keeps thinking about that message. You're like me.

Magnificent flicks between watching the shadows and glancing at the tv. ...whatever that thing that threatened them... looks like it had nothing more than just scary words.

More time passes. Fifteen minutes total since the message. Twenty. Twenty five.

Then there’s a knock on the door. “Hey guys?” It’s Jack. He slowly pushes open the door and steps inside. He’s carrying a paper bag from the nearby clothing store.

The instant he steps in he realizes something is wrong. “What happened? Did you see something else?”

Chase is still trying to get Alt to calm down but he can't seem to get him to relax. He jumps slightly as Jack comes back and then he sighs, "H-Hey... I... I don't know- Alt was acting weird with his phone- and starting freaking out about a message. And then- the TV turned on- even though we didn't plug it back in! There was a ... a voice- in the static."

"Said something about how it didn't want to share its toys," Mag adds in a flat voice.

Bro nods, "But... nothing since then... but Alt is still pretty spooked." He gently tries to shake Alt's shoulder again. "Hey its okay dude... nothing's comin' to hurt us- look, Jack's back! It's okay..."

Unfortunately Jack's reaction to this news does not help calm Alt down. The paper clothing bag falls out of his loose hand as he immediately goes white as a ghost.

"We're going," he says. "We're going, we're--I know we probably have to check out of the hospital but there's no time, we're going somewhere else to wait for Alt to recover--ow!" His hand flies to his eye-patch, pressing against it.

Alt now looks at Jack with wide terrified eyes, “W..what is this thing? W-why did it say it was Iike me?!”

Bro looks between the two of them in confusion. “wait what? We can’t just-“ Then he starts to connect the dots and he turns pale as well. “that thing- that hunted you. Okay- okay just- grab whatever you can!” He hurries to grab his bag and then starts to see how he can get Alt unplugged from all the monitors.

Jack picks up the paper clothing bag again, trying to take deep breaths. "I-I told you earlier that I understood how you feel--it's because I was stuck with one of those things for a--" He laughs. "--a long, long time." He rubs the bandages covering his neck. "I-it uses technology. M-manipulates it. I-I-I guess it doesn't like having someone else around who can do the same thing."

Alt shudders and looks at Jack with a mix of sympathy and terror.

As soon as Chase has Alt mostly unhooked he hurries over to the window. They're on the first floor and the window opens. That's probably a bad idea, but this is a small hospital. "Come on. When you can."

Chase is quick to help Alt up, slinging his shoulder over his. Alt limps towards the window with Chase’s help.

Alt knows they need to hurry so he grabs Jack and then Mag too and closes his eyes. In a quick burst of static and pixels, Alt glitches them outside. But, then he slumps against Chase, breathing heavily- still having trouble glitching. But at least they’re out of the hospital room.

Magnificent shakes himself off like an offended cat and eyes their surroundings.

“W-Where to now?” Chase frantically asks Jack.

“Somewhere with less tech,” Jack says, frantically looking around. “I-if we can’t make it to the edge of the city we can find a park or something—fuck, I’ve never been here before, I don’t know—aagh!” He stumbles, pressing his had to his eye-patch once again. When he lifts it, blood trickles out from under the patch.

Chase hurries to look over at Jack as he stumbles then looks at him with mounting horror. “J-Jack- your eye is bleeding…!”

“I know, I know, and it’s not a good sign!” Jack shakes his head, pushing past the pain. “Just go! Hurry! Come on!” He starts running down the street, picking a direction at random.

Chase looks back at Alt and then, despite his protests, picks him up and runs after Jack. Magnificent stays close behind.

They run for a few minutes, with Jack constantly looking around for some sign of anything.

There’s nothing.

Until they reach a construction site where the sidewalk and street are all torn up, big empty pipes sitting next to holes clearly meant for them. The site is empty. Unusual. It forces the group to a narrow strip of intact sidewalk, a high wall to one side and a hole to the other.

At once, all the phones the group has let out a squawk of static that sounds like laughter. Up ahead something appears. Glitches into being is probably the most accurate way to describe it, but it’s not like Alt’s glitching. There is something more visceral about the sound and the movement.

The boys all stagger backwards, Mag holding out a hand filled with magic at this thing while Chase holds Alt close. As soon as the sound started Alt had curled up and covered his ears again, shaking like a leaf.

The thing is shaped like a person… in fact, it’s shaped like Jack. But with wide green-sclera eyes. But a second later it shivers and shudders, blasts of static noise filling the air one after another. KRCHT Now it looks like Alt. KRCHT Now it looks like Chase. KRCHT Now it looks like Mag. KRCHT Now there is something of all of them in it, jittering pieces forced together, green eyes and blood in the seams where they meet.

Alt stares at the thing with terrified eyes and then shouts at it, “No no! G-Get the fuck away from us!!”

Its smile splits its face in half. All of a sudden it’s in front of them, without any moving at all—without even the blink of teleportation. It lunges forward, static getting louder.

Jack cries out and instinctively tries to push the others behind him— And then it is gone. Right before it reached them it vanished like it had never been there at all. But the static lingers.

“Keep going keep going keep going!” Jack urges.

Chase staggers back then breaks out into a sprint, holding his trembling brother in a vice grip against him.

Magnificent tries to keep up, split between running and teleporting as he shouts out, “What the hell is that thing?!”

“I don’t know! It’s another one of those things!” Jack shouts. He’s running as fast as he can, but is lagging a bit behind the others with their powers and magic. “It’s strong, though! It can—”

But then, abruptly, he stops talking. Stops running, too, coming to a sudden halt. His visible eye is wide, his muscles are trembling, and more blood leaks from behind the patch. “No,” he breathes. “No, not—” Again, he stops. He relaxes abruptly, head lolling, swaying on his feet.

Chase skids to a stop and whips around. “J-Jack?!”

Magnificent shivers and steps back, eyes wide and magic sparking at his fingertips.

Alt feels like he can’t breathe.

"Ì sińg t̢h̕e ͝body ͡el̡èćt̛r̨ic̕.͞" The voice comes from Jack's throat, but also from their phones, popping and fizzling with white noise. Jack's mouth grins wide and then his body lurches forward, lunging for whoever's closest.

Alt in his panic tried to glitch away- but whether it’s his still messed up powers or the gravity of whatever this thing is- he ends up right in the things path- disoriented.

“NO!” Chase tries to yell-

The hands grab Alt, arms wrapping around him. Jack's body is moving so fast that the two of them go toppling to the ground, on the edge of the hole in the road.

"Bad luck, bad luck," Jack's voice says, his face still grinning. One hand wraps around Alt's throat while the other reaches into Jack's pocket for his swiss army knife. The blade flicks open.

Alt is panicking hardcore, unable to breathe. He tries to kick and fight Jack but he’s still weak and in a lot of pain. “D-Don’t! Please S-Stop…!” Alt croaks out, trying to get himself to glitch but he can’t.

The other react fast- Magnificent yells out and tries to wrap up Jack in strings.

Bro rushes forward to see if he can grab Alt away-

The strings yank Jack's body away just in time for Chase to grab Alt. It shrieks and struggles.

Chase backs away quickly with Alt, afraid both of them will fall in the hole. Alt clings to Bro’s shirt like a lifeline- but he refuses to look away from Jack.

More blood leaks from behind Jack's eye-patch and he stops, clarity for a moment. "I-I can understand it," he whispers. "Neurons and nerves. Guys, it can't--" But then his mouth snaps shut.

Alt’s eyes widen as he hears Jack- “Neurons and nerves- what does that mean?!”

Jack’s hand flips the blade around and cuts through the strings holding that arm. His body presses against the strings, growling, somehow gathering enough force to snaps some of them as the hands reach for Magnificent.

Magnificent growls and whips out another hand and sends a shock of green electricity at the thing before it can grab him.

Jack screams as the electricity hits him, spasming and slumping. But he’s talking as soon as the scream is over. “I-it can’t reach you so it’s stuck with me. Disrupt its con—”

Alt’s eyes widen, his thoughts racing. Break the connection-!

Jack’s warning is broken by laughter. His body jumps forward, breaking the last of the strings, going for Bro with the knife.

As Jack dives at Bro with the knife Alt screams out and then in a quick flurry of glitches disappears into Jack’s body.

Abrupt silence.

Jack’s body drops, completely limp. The knife clatters to the ground.

Alt feels everything that Jack feels, sees everything that he sees as if this is his body. But something is off. Jack’s consciousness is there, battered and tired and worn thin. But there is something else there as well. A parasite, wrapped up in Jack’s nerves, hissing like organic white noise. And yet there is something familiar in its presence. Like your reflection in a funhouse mirror.

{He’s mine,} it says. {Not yours. Get out.} {No!} Jack’s consciousness squirms. {Alt, please! Help!}

Alt panics for a second, trying to understand what is happening. Then he tries to dive into kinks in the nerves, trying to send out his own current to disrupt the flow. {This body isn’t yours! Get out!}

The entity digs its claws into Jack's mind. Alt's current causes it to spasm and stretch but it won't let go yet.

{It is. And so is the mind and soul. Will you take it from me? Make it yours instead?}

{Alt wouldn't do that!} Jack protests.

{Why not? He is like me. I can feel it.}

Alt falters then pushes harder in anger. {No! I’m not like you! I’ll never be like you!}

{But you are,} it says. {We are similar. Your cat is like our cat. Your misery is like our misery. This mind knows. This mind has suspected ever since your misery mentioned a friend with a red hood.}

A memory flashes through Jack's eyes--Chase's freakout in the radio tower when he realized Jackie often wears a red hoodie. But that memory flash brings something to light.

Alt feels himself freeze, slow realization flooding through his body like cold dread. “No! Cuz there’s… t-there’s so way that thing is Jackie! There’s no way that m-monster is my best friend!“ Chase says in the memory.

These things… these horrors- they’re supposed to be them.

As Alt is distracted by the parasite's words, it is sinking deeper into Jack's brain.

Outside the mind, his body trembles, eyes rolling back in his head. Alt can feel pain in Jack's right eye.

Chase has crashed down next to Jack’s body and is trying to shake him awake. “J-Jack?! Alt!!” Mag steps back- but pulls Jack’s arms behind his back with his strings. Cant be too careful…

Alt feels himself want to scream- no no no! He’s not this thing! He’s not a torturer- he’s not evil! He gets distracted from his spiral at the flare of pain in Jack’s eye. He feels panic trying to take over him. But- that must be the connection!

Alt tries to act quickly, racing into the nerves by the eye and putting more of his magic in to stop this thing from spreading further.

It's like slowly pulling apart taffy. The parasite wants to stay, clawing and biting into the membrane of Jack's soul. But Alt's power stretches it, pushing it away until-- SNAP!

It's gone.

All that's left is the shadow of a power. Jack's body stops shuddering and he lies there, breathing heavily.

{Thank you...} It's just a thought, but Alt can picture tears of relief.

Alt's being shudders once the connection is snapped but he lingers long enough to hear the thank you- and feel the relief flooding through the both of them. {...anytime.}

Chase shakes Jack's body more, getting worried. "J-Jack?? Alt??"

Jack's body shudders and then- glitches break off his form almost like a copy of him. Then, Alt snaps back to himself right next to Jack, but he can't stay up long. His eyes roll back in his head and he slumps forward- but luckily Chase catches him. "Alt!"

The glitch shudders and shakes in Chase's arms, his eyelids fluttering and electricity sparking bright in his veins. But- not as bad as it was in the last world at least...

Mag watches carefully- but he does release the strings on Jack.

Jack breathes heavily. He sits up slowly and looks around. "I think... I think it's gone." For now. He knows it will keep trying to find him. But Alt seems to have driven it away temporarily. "You guys... are you all okay? I-I didn't hurt any of you, did I? Or... it didn't?"

Chase seems to relax as he sees Jack get up, "W-We're okay... I.. I think..."

Mag relaxes somewhat too but he eyes around them. "... we shouldn't linger here- we should try to find another safe spot..."

Chase nods and gets to his feet, holding Alt against him again. "Uh- first off let's get away from this big hole thing- freaks me out..."

"Yeah..." Jack breathes. He stands to his feet, staggering as he gets used to controlling his own body again. "Maybe... maybe now that it's gone we can go back to the hospital. O-or we could try to find a park or something. That'd be nice. I don't know. What do you guys think?" The group starts to walk away from the construction site.

"Park is good..." Chase mumbles, "I... I don't want to risk drawing that thing again..."

Alt pants slightly and mumbles a bit against Bro, his shoulders starting to glitch and pixelate. Chase seems to perk up at this.

"Alright." Jack nods. "Let's see if we can find one." He doesn't want to walk too much. Just having that thing in his head pushes him to exhaustion. It always uses all his strength at once, unable to feel the effects of such effort.

Luckily, they find a park soon. It's rather small, square in shape and fenced-in. But there are a lot of trees and planted flowers, and a small man-made arm-wide creek cutting across the center. Jack sits down under a large willow tree, liking how its drooping branches give him privacy. "This is good."

Chase looks around and laughs slightly, "Y-Yeah wow... this is really pretty actually." He sits down next to Jack and sets Alt down to lay with his head in his lap.

Mag studies this and then disappears to go sit on one of the branches above them.

Chase looks up and squints, ".... can't you be normal for once?"

Mag grins, "Nope~"

Bro rolls his eyes and then looks over at Jack, "...you okay dude? That was... that was super intense..."

Jack pauses, unsure how to say this. "I've... been through worse," he says slowly. "With that whole... situation, too. What just happened." He looks up into the tree. "You're right. It is pretty." Nice to know there were still beautiful things in the world.

Chase gives him a sad smile.

"Alt. Are... you okay? You were in my head, I-I kinda knew what was happening. There was a moment there... just, are you okay?"

Alt slowly blinks open his eyes and seems to relax a bit more at taking in the fresh air. He winces for a second before glitching to sit upright, giving him and Bro a bit of space- and so he can see Jack properly. He meets Jack's eyes and Jack can see the flicker of fear in them. But, he looks away and tries to say, "Yeah.. i'm..." Then, he pauses and he swallows thickly, tears starting to brim in his eyes. "...no actually- im... i'm not okay..."

Chase looks confused and worried, "W...What happened?"

Jack sighs. "Do you remember... when we first met? After Sangria left, I made some comment about what if you have a friend in a red hood, and you freaked out?" He pauses. "I had the thought back then, but... if you were so sure I didn't think I should question you. But what it said to Alt while they were both in my head... it implies I was right." He pauses. "Wondering about yourselves in this world... is pointless. We've met them."

Chase's eyes widen, "Wait... no that... that can't be-"

"It is," Alt says in a wavering voice, "These... these horror things- they're us. This is another parallel universe... but one where all of us are fucking horror monsters...! I'm that- g-glitchy thing- it called you Misery, Chase. And It said ours cats were the same."

Mag stiffens but then sighs and looks at the lingering fog, "... i guess that makes sense."

Alt laughs a bit through his tears, "... Notarzt... m-must be Schneep right? The accents... and... Sangria is Jackie... but I... I guess I'm the worst of them... t-that's why Notarzt got scared-" He bites his lip as it wavers and he holds his knees close to his chest.

"You are not it, Alt," Jack says fiercely. "You may be parallels, but that doesn't mean you're the same. I know that because you saved me when it... it probably would've been easier to run away and leave me there. I can't believe that someone who'd do that is the same as the thing that... that tormented me for so long." He shakes his head. "If you believe that you're the same, then you have to believe that all of your friends are the same as the creatures here. Do you think that?"

Alt is quiet for a beat, letting his tears fall quietly. Then, he shakes his head. "no... no- I could never... even Mag doesn't seem as bad as these things..."

"Normally I'd be offended by such a statement-" Mag says haughtily. "... but I'm inclined to agree..."

Chase goes to put hand on Alt's shoulder and smiles at him, "I know it sucks... seeing a version of yourself that is just... completely wrong. It makes you doubt a lot of things... but you are you, Alt. You don't act like these things do... you're good, baby bro. I can promise you that..."

Jack nods. This feels like a moment he shouldn't interrupt.

Alt takes a shuddering breath but does his best to nod to the others. He doesn't know what else to say... because even if he felt so disconnected from the other Antis he's met... in some ways- he felt... exactly the same. And that scares him more than anything. What if who he used to be- is just his default? Is he gonna turn into an awful person who hurts others for fun? What if this is something he can't change? Every universe they go to just makes him more and more convinced- even if he wants so desperately for it to be different.

Chase looks at Alt sadly and then sighs, leaning back. "... at least... that is a mystery solved... even if it sucks balls to hear. Hard to imagine that weird house demon thing was- me I guess. Seems far off if you ask me!" He tries to laugh.

Jack shrugs. “If there’s a multiverse, it’s probably infinite. Anything can happen.” He pauses, then gives a small smile. “But out of everything that could be, I’m glad it all came together so I could meet you two.”

Chase and Alt smiles warmly at Jack. Chase beams, "Ditto! You're a neat dude, Jack! I dunno if we would have even made it without you."

The smile disappears again. “How are you feeling… physically? I don’t know how easy or difficult possession is for you.”

Alt takes stock of himself and shrugs, "...m'still kinda weak- achy... but its hard to tell if its different from the wounds or not. I feel like I have some of my energy back though so... i guess those drugs are finally wearing off."

"Should hope they are, you were going through detox all night at the hospital," Jack mutters. "Anyway, glad to hear it. Maybe... maybe you just need a little more rest. Then you guys can get out of here."

"Yeah... possessing stuff does tire me out so... probably need to wait a bit more..." Alt mutters.

Chase looks around, "Hey- maybe we can get you changed into those better clothes now. ...so it doesn't look like we just kidnapped a hospital patient." He laughs.

"Oh shit, yeah." Jack had dropped the bag during the possession at the construction site, but luckily he'd had the presence of mind to grab it again. He passes it over. "Hope it's alright. It might be a bit big, I wanted to err on the side of caution. But I think I chose good options. Maybe a little cheesy." That last comment is directed at the T-shirt, which is black with Out Of written on it, then a picture of the control key on a keyboard.

Alt blinks a bit and takes out the t-shirt to look at it. He laughs, grinning wide. "heh... it's perfect. Thanks, Jack."

Bro laughs, "You nailed his style dude! He has like a million of those kinda shirts at home!"

Alt flushes at this but he does laugh, "Tech pun shirts are just fun, what can I say?"

Alt soon hurries off to find a place to change, eager to get out of the hospital clothes.

Luckily the park is empty. There are no real constructed buildings here, but the trees are clustered close enough together to provide adequate cover.

When he returns, Jack is slumped back against the tree trunk, eyes closed, messing with the eye-patch but not removing it. The drying blood is irritating.

Alt comes back, pulling his jacket on over his new shirt and jeans. He looks a lot more comfortable now, even if he's still limping on his right leg. He glitches to sit back down with everyone and then flops onto his back, sighing a bit in relief. Chase smiles at him. Magnificent is lounging on the branch, watching them all.

Jack opens his eye. "Heh... you look great, Alt. That really does suit you. Well, then... I guess we just sit here and relax, then."

Chase settles to sit against the tree trunk, closing his eyes.

Alt turns his head to smile at Jack, "Thanks dude-" He lays back down and tries to snap his fingers- seeing if he can feel his powers a bit better.

...Yes, in fact. Alt's powers respond quickly. Not quite as quick as usual, but much faster than just a few minutes ago. Maybe pushing away that... that creature... did undo some sort of block. It's worrying that it was able to block his powers in the first place, but they won't be here for much longer, anyway.

Alt sits up in a bit of excitement at feeling more of his magic. He pulls out the TRVLR and tries to see if he has enough to finish powering it up.

It responds instantly. The jump button is no longer grayed out. The warning button is still there, of course, but that's probably going to stay there until they leave this universe.

Where would they go next, anyway? If Alt scrolls through the universe list for a bit, he sees more UA prefixes than U or UF. What did they mean, anyway? UA brought them back to a modern setting, but it also brought them to a place with dangerous monsters. Maybe... maybe play it safe this time. None of the U universes have that little warning exclamation mark next to them. Even if something goes wrong, they wouldn't end up somewhere dangerous if they aimed for there. Here. U-1227118IV. When they're ready to go, that seems like a good place to start.

Mag hears the sound of the TRVLR and appears down next to Alt in a burst of static. "Is it ready?"

Alt jumps and glitches in place, holding the TRVLR up in the air away from Mag, "Jesus Christ!" He glares at Mag and then sighs, "Yeah- it's ready... I think i found one that... wont kill us at least- if it's not home."

Chase blinks open his eyes and smiles before looking back at Jack. His and Alt's face falls as they look back at him.

"...we should probably go," Alt says quietly, "...just in case."

Bro goes to lightly touch Jack's arm, "...are you gonna be okay?"

Jack laughs. "I'll live. By god, I'll live. Fuckers aren't gonna take me down." The laughter fades, but a small smile remains. "I think... meeting you all has helped. Yes, even this guy." He gestures at Mag. "Picturing a world without things out there hunting down people gives me a little bit of hope. That... somewhere out there, people are alright. Even if they have to deal with other shit. You know? And... like I said, I hope you guys don't come back here. But I'll remember you. And that means something."

Chase grins wide and lightly punches Jack in the shoulder, “Hell yeah dude! I’ll remember you- I swear I will.”

Alt smiles softly, “Yeah… I got something that’ll make me think of you now. …never let these fuckers wear you down, Jack. You’re hella strong for getting this far…”

Mag makes a face at Jack but- he doesn’t look like he hated hearing that.

Alt sighs and then grabs Mag and Bro.

Bro makes sure they have everything and then two finger salutes Jack. “Give ‘em hell, Jack!”

Alt smirks and nods. Then he clicks the jump button.

The three of them fall again, and then they are gone.

Jack stares at the spot where they were. He sighs a little. Though it sucks to be on his own again, he'd rather they be safe than with him. And god only knows this world isn't safe. Not for the people in it, much less people from elsewhere who aren't used to it. He'll remember them. Even if they forget him like everyone else, he'll remember them.

He tilts his head back and stares up into the branches of the trees. Sunlight filters through. Everything is green and yellow and blue. There are birds chirping.

That's nice.

[fanficmemes]

CAS: Character is 3 months pregnant with grubs. They are wriggling and painful. They are horribly distended. This is only halfway through the pregnancy. They’ve been through this many times. They hum and rub their belly to try and calm the bug babies down.

Alien bug father returns. Grubs immediately settle. Alien kisses character, more accurately spits acid in their mouth. This caused character to throw up. But they’re still being kissed. You’ve heard of swapping spit, get ready for swapping vomit. Character can’t breathe for fear of choking on the vomit. Alien starts fucking characters ass. Character gasps and chokes on vomit. Alien breaks the kiss to let them properly throw up.

Alien fucks the ass while playing with characters clit. Character orgasms multiple times before alien finally cums. It’s enough to inflate characters heavily pregnant belly even more.

But actually go back. Before alien cums, he starts using his bug legs to penetrate the nipples of the breasts. Penetrate is the wrong word pierced is better. He starts on the left, hollowing it it. Blood and chunks of flesh flowing down the character are described. The blood makes the baby bug all energetic again, hurting character more. I lied, alien actually hollows out both breasts at the same time.

After cumming in the ass. The alien moves and starts fucking the left breast. He comes and it causes the breast to double in size. He pulls out and then used a special web material that he produces to see the breast back up. This web has been used previously to stitch character back up after other sexual mishaps. Rinse and repeat with right breast, except it takes longer and is even bigger.

Alien leaves. Character is in agony, and can’t even get any of the cum out. We are privy to their thoughts as they explain that this is special cum that hardens into a plug and then larvae will grow and eventually eat their way out. This has happened to character, before, but they somehow survived despite all the holes of the bugs eating their way out.

Character also shares the realization that their ass is plugged so they can’t poop so their body will go septic. So unless alien comes back to save them from this fate they will be eaten alive from the inside out by their mutant bug offspring as they slowly die of sepsis.

8/10 I’m shocked and horrified and bugs scare me especially the long ones this is my worst nightmare besides fucking up my nerves and losing feeling in my vagina

[coochiequeens]

This is why we need women to have input in housing development 

This article was originally published in Undark Magazine.

On a humid afternoon in May, a handful of local residents gathered at a one-room home in an unplanned housing settlement in Mumbai. The women greeted one another and then sat down on the small porch and on the tiled floor inside, swapping stories about the day’s events through the doorframe. Their conversation was lighthearted until someone mentioned hydration and the mood changed. “We won’t be consuming any more liquids today,” said 31-year-old Kalawati Yadav. “If we do, we might have the urge to urinate by later in the evening.” By then, the public toilets would be filthy from the day’s use, and without lighting, they would also be dark. “It’s not a safe time to go,” Yadav said.

Daytime is not much better, though, because the facilities are rarely truly clean. According to the women, the public toilets are usually dirty, unlit, and lacking in water. They are also in short supply. Two facilities, each with a dozen toilets—six for women and six for men—service the entire settlement, Subhash Nagar, which covers about one-10th of a square mile and as of 2020 housed more than 9,000 people. The municipal government is supposed to be responsible for sanitation, but there is very little oversight. (City officials did not respond to multiple requests for comment.)

As a result, for residents of Subhash Nagar and for many low-income residents across India, bathroom schedules are often dictated not by biological need but by inadequate toilet infrastructure. Several women told Undark that they routinely hold their urine and avoid drinking liquids in an effort to reduce trips to the facilities. These behaviors lead to stomchaches and constipation, but the women said they don’t have better options. Their neighborhood was unplanned—it started as a collection of tin-plank homes, which were later replaced with concrete structures—so the houses are not connected to septic tanks. There are no private toilets, and the owners cannot afford to regularly use the fee-based facilities in other parts of the city.

This predicament is part of a larger story of India’s efforts to bring affordable and sanitary toilets to its population of 1.4 billion people. Though estimates vary, according to The Hindu, an Indian daily newspaper, nearly half of all Indians practiced open defecation as recently as 2013; people go outside in fields, bodies of water, or other open spaces. Without public sanitation—including septic tanks, water, and cleaning products—pathogens spread readily, causing serious health problems. The United Nations deputy secretary-general has called for the elimination of open defecation, and in 2014, Prime Minister Narendra Modi launched Swachh Bharat Abhiyan, or Clean India Mission, an effort that led to the construction of about 100 million toilets. Today, according to the World Bank, just 15 percent of the population practices open defecation.

Having new public toilets “is a step forward,” Sarita Vijay Panchang, a public-health researcher who did her 2019 dissertation on India’s urban sanitation, wrote in an email to Undark. But many of India’s public toilets are overcrowded, she noted. This leads to long lines, sewage overflows, and concerns about personal safety—all of which constitute their own set of public-health problems.

Surveys show that the situation is especially acute in urban areas such as Mumbai. Safety concerns deter some women from practicing open defecation as a fallback. (Some reports suggest men are more likely than women to practice open defecation even when public toilets are available.) Physicians and activists say the continued practice of caste- and class-based discriminationcompounds the harms, as some women are forbidden from using the toilets while at work.

“The ceiling plaster has fallen on me once,” said Ambika Kalshetty, the gathering’s 35-year-old host, who works as a housemaid in the nearby high-rise apartments. The men’s toilets were built atop the women’s toilets, she explained, and the men’s “leak on us at times—it’s disgusting.” She said she really doesn’t feel good until she returns home and cleans thoroughly with soap and an antiseptic.

Another woman, Sangeeta Pandey, recalled watching a pregnant woman faint while waiting in a long line for the community toilets. “It was humiliating,” Pandey said, “but also, what could she do?”

Local activists have worked to raise awareness and bring improvements. Still, the women gathered in Kalshetty’s home said that change is slow, and for now, they are on their own to manage a difficult situation.

Several years ago, researchers surveyed more than 600 women across 33 slums in Maharashtra, the Indian state that includes Mumbai. They found that among those without proper toilet access, more than 21 percent reported holding in their urine and more than 26 percent said they modify their meals to avoid using the toilets at night. These findings are supported by Panchang’s research in the region, which also found that women avoid urination and defecation when they perceive their community toilets to be unsafe.

Such behavioral changes can lead to negative health effects, says Suchitra Dalvie, a Mumbai-based gynecologist and women’s-health activist. Frequent urination helps flush any bacteria, thus reducing risk of urinary-tract infections. (The women in Subash Nagar said that they regularly experienced UTIs, some as often as every few months.)

Even the relatively well-off are affected. Dalvie recalls a conversation with the state’s former minister of health, a young woman who often needed to travel for work. The health minister would limit her water intake, knowing that the public toilets she would encounter on the road might not be adequate. This is an example of how women’s problems have been normalized in India, says Dalvie.

Toilet infrastructure is not just an issue of sanitation, says Deepa Pawar, a social activist focusing on gender and youth issues in marginalized communities. “It is a much larger problem that encompasses health, gender, and social-justice issues,” she says.

Pawar’s organization, Anubhuti, started conducting several toilet audits across Mumbai in 2017. Its audit of the K/East Ward found conditions similar to those that Undark reported: damaged toilets, lack of water, and inadequate cleaning services. And though the central government has called for one commode per 30 individuals, the audit found far fewer.

Pawar grew up in Mumbai’s low-income neighborhoods, so the issue is personal. “When you use your toilet at home, there is no struggle involved,” she says. But in using public toilets, one must contend with an array of concerns.

The problems were aggravated during the COVID lockdowns, Pawar says, when many of the city’s free public toilets were closed. “They only kept the pay-and-use toilets functional. From where will the poor get the money to use these toilets if they are not allowed to work?” she asks. The closures particularly affected the nomadic communities that compose nearly 10 percent of India’s population. These are communities that traditionally moved around, and although many have now settled, they are economically weak and face discrimination.

Read: India under coronavirus lockdown.

Women and men in Subhash Nagar were also forbidden from using many toilets during the lockdowns, but they say they used them anyway. And across Mumbai, many men simply defecated outside. Although the city government ordered toilet fees to be waived for everyone, Pawar and residents of Subhash Nagar say that in practice, women were still charged. “Essentially, women were being penalized for their gender while men were being given a free pass,” Pawar says.

As a member of a nomadic tribe, Pawar is intimately familiar with the social dynamics that prevent some women from accessing basic services such as toilets. “During our campaigns, we question local officials about the disparity in access to toilets for members of nomadic tribes like ourselves, and they often respond by asking us why we don’t use the free public toilets in malls instead,” she says.

The reality is that those spaces cater to the middle and upper class, and people of lower socioeconomic status are not welcome there. “Will a female laborer with a bullock cart be allowed to enter a mall? Has our society inspired such courtesies among those who work at and visit these malls to allow nomadic laborers within their complex?” she asks rhetorically.

Mumbai is a large commercial city that relies on the labor of women and of marginalized communities, Dalvie says. Businesses, government, and wealthy residents should therefore “accommodate the conveniences” of everyone.

Going forward, Panchang would like to see India strive to build more in-house toilets that are connected to sewers. Residents will be able to maintain them well, and women will not have to pay such a heavy price for the country’s efforts to eliminate open defecation. “Public toilets,” she wrote in her email, “are not a substitute for household toilets.”

Ruchi Kumar is an Indian journalist currently working in Kabul, Afghanistan. Her writing has appeared in Foreign Policy, The Guardian, and The Washington Post, among other outlets.

[crystalninjaphoenix]

Hey! I Hope you are doing Good and i hope you did eat and drink something Today! Also how has your day been :3. I Have a Littel question in the back of my head that has been bothering me for weeks and now i Finally am able to ask that question (Because i was shy at first and was scared of asking that question Heh) But yeah! My question is for your Fantasy Mask AU WHICH i really Love btw its one of my Favorite Fanfictions <3 i read so far + My Number one which i could read over and over again! Okay Now to the Question. My Question is: Did you ever Had a diffrent Character For a specific Role in mind Like example. Instead of Marvin being the Magician it would Be Jairsolas or instead of Chase living in the Village it would be henrik. Basically Switched Roles Or diffrent positions for the egos as in what they are in right now. i hope im not Explaining it to complicated.😅🥲 PS: I hope that its Fine that i took Jairsolas Well the “Jair“ Part as my Name. Im Trans and really liked that name so i did chose it to be mine😅💙 With Greetings: Jair

Hello Jair! My day’s been pretty alright so far, I woke up late so there hasn’t been much happening haha. I’m so happy you’re enjoying Fantasy Masks! It’s been so fun to write. I’m incredibly touched that you’re naming yourself after it. I can’t believe someone’s done that, it sounds so unreal :’D

Your question is pretty interesting 🤔 I don’t think I’ve ever been asked that before but when you think about it, assigning characters to roles is essential for making an AU. I’m going to say my answer is no. To me, the septics perfectly fit into their Fantasy Masks backgrounds. FM!Chase is the village hunter because that seems like what regular Chase would be like in a fantasy world. Swapping the roles is interesting, tho. But the story would be very different from what I have planned. It would be like an AU of an AU lol

[dungeonaspects]

Short Story: Body Swapping

I never thought it would turn out like this. Him. Sitting there. In my house, in my living room, politely talking I think, about tea and football. A few weeks ago I knew my brother, dropping by every Saturday to catch up and watch the game, his laughter echoing with the same old jokes and that unmistakable goofy grin. My older brother was dumb, loud, and as likely to ask for a pint as a cuppa. I don’t know where he is anymore.

Instead, one day, he turned up. I opened the door to a figure too elongated, too gaunt. He called himself my brother, when I tried to turn him away he only laughed and brushed past me into the hall, navigating to the kitchen with unsettling familiarity— teabags, sugar, milk, all found without a moment’s hesitation. My brother didn’t have milk in his tea.

I would’ve thrown him out, if it hadn’t been for my kid. They walked in and greeted the not-brother as “Uncle Garrett,” treating him like family, talking about school and friends. My brother’s name wasn’t Garrett. I don’t recall what his name was, it's just... I'm sure it wasn't Garrett.

“Pass us the biscuits,” The imposter beckons, eyeing the packet in my hands. My not-brother liked these types, so I started buying them. He always wanted this brand, my wife even making sure we have some for my not-brother.

I visited my parents’ yesterday, smiling and talking. We went through old photos. My brother had been short and round his whole life, built like a brick outhouse and with an attitude to match. Now all I could see was pictures I remember with my brother, but instead this too tall boy with spindly arms grinned in each one, my mother cooing at his brown eyes.

My brother didn’t have brown eyes.

He watches me. When it’s just us, the wife out, my kid at some club. He ‘occupies’ his chair and he stares. Now I don’t even put the TV on, and he prattles on I think, about goals and penalties. Incessantly munching on biscuits and drinking milky tea. My not-brother watches with those deep, umber orbs and jagged teeth, his elongated arms reaching for another biscuit, his tea dripping from sharp nails… I wish it was tea

“Pass us the biscuits,” He purrs , snatching one from my palm, his fingers cold and rubbery, talons bending unnaturally to pass it past the oily lips

I don’t remember what my brother looked like. Was he blonde? Did he have a scar on his arm? I can see him but… I can’t picture him. I think of my brother, and all that surfaces is a blur. His shape was right at first, but the longer I think about it, my brother was… taller.

I keep the right brand of biscuits in my home for my not-brother, he likes them. He always grins so wide when I open the door now, it splits his face. His dark muddy eyes shining as I let him in. I can’t help shivering as he bends down low to get through the doorway. But I always welcome him in, his long limbs folding down as he smiles at my wife, head tilting further and further until he can breathe on her face. And she talks to him.

“You should come with us on our trip this summer Garrett,” She says, “We always love seeing you and I bet you’d enjoy the New Forest,” She says. I nod. He should come. My not-brother will like our summer trip.

So he nods, his mouth hanging open till I heard a crunch. My wife doesn’t ask my not-brother to come along anymore.

“Pass us the biscuits,” Not-brother says, his fingers letting off a grotesque snapping as they elongate towards the floor where I’d thrown them. He didn’t even bend his wrist, he simply stares as the fingers contort back into place.

I don’t clean up anymore, my not-brother doesn’t mind the mess. He always pushes the bones away when he slithers into the living room. I ran out of tea a long time ago. But he still comes round, and I still buy his biscuits.

I don’t talk anymore. There’s no need to. Now there’s no one else to talk to. Only not-brother.

I don’t think he leaves anymore either. Whenever I dare to blink, I see his elongated teeth and sickly septic eyes, grinning malevolently, following me. He was tall and spindly. I think.

Not-brother stares at me. From his chair. In his living room. And I am simply a spectator, a witness.

I watch as his snapping bones and twisting face blurs and cracks. The smile never stops, the hands always reaching. I ran out of biscuits today. I can’t remember where I bought them from. Perhaps somewhere beyond… here.

The outside world is a fading dream now.

I only remember my not-brother. Watching me, with hollow eyes and a sucking maw.

“Pass us the biscuits,” It rasps, a long tongue catching on jagged barbed teeth, oily blood mixing with the stale crimson stains on the carpet at his feet.

I gaze upon my not-brother, and I don’t know anything. He stares at me for days. I’m so tired, I’m so thirsty.

I miss tea… was it tea? I can’t remember what not-brother drinks anymore. His bloodstained claws leaving deep, splintered lines on the table.

The bone snaps as he reaches for me. The emptiness before me is so unceasing, it's inescapable.

My not-brother refuses to let me move as he clutches my wrist, I feel the flesh give way and he doesn’t even let me scream. He smiles. Jaw slowly, so slowly, descending.

“Pass us the biscuits,” It breathes as I feel teeth pierce my flesh, my desiccated body sighing in relief as I fall into the undulating void, and I dream of that wide smile one last time…

I used to be short and strong. I would visit my parents every month to catch up. Now I am tall and skinny, and they should let me in. They always let me in.

“Shall we look at the album?” I inquire, my mother's gaze fixed upon her unrecognizable son. Recognition will dawn on her soon enough. I settle into my chair, patting the cushion next to me, gesturing towards the bookshelf.

“Shall we look at the album?” I ask, as my tiny mother retrieves the book, a tear rolling down her cheek as my father greets me with a welcoming smile. I pat her comfortingly on the knee and grin, at least she remembered me, then she’ll remember someone else she needs to visit.

“Shall we look at the album?”

Thoughts

This short story is based off of something a friend told me about and really captured my imagination. The idea of some entity that is able to worm its way into homes and families seamlessly, able to bend mind and memory to go completely unnoticed. Yet its inhuman nature is singularly cruel, delighting in pain and suffering, so it uses its influence to isolate and torment a victim.

The prompt was randomly suggested to me and I thought this was a great chance to have a creeping story that draws you along this unsettling thread as the perspective shifts with the narrator. A lot of my writing is run on sentences so picking a style that made me use a shorter, more personal structure was quite fun, if challenging.

I’d love to see what other people could do with the simple prompt of:

“Body Swapping”

[mccallbush86]

Trenchless Sewer Substitute The Means It Works + Execs And Cons

The greatest method to keep away from the excessive price of sewer line repair or substitute is to maintain your sewer pipes in good working situation. Find a reliable plumbing specialist in your space who can frequently carry out preventative maintenance on your pipes and septic system to keep every little thing working smoothly. One of the most typical indicators of sewer pipe injury is cracks within the pipes. These cracks can enable water and sewage to leak out, causing a foul smell. At Superior Plumbing & Heating, we employ cutting-edge sewer inspection video equipment to swiftly and precisely determine any sewage issues you might be experiencing in your residence. Toilets can warn of extreme blockages if strange gurgling sounds happen when air gets pushed back up the line. The most typical plumbing jobs normally value between $150 and $500. toronto sewage For some householders, cured-in-place pipe lining is the proper resolution for their issues. For the the rest of us, pipe bursting could be a better choice. However, thanks to new advancements and technologies within the epoxy sector, you actually have more than one method to swap out underground sewage and drain pipes. And get this - neither of them requires in depth excavations either. A yard that’s flooded is normally a signal of a broken sewer pipe. Sewer traces may be buried anyplace between a couple of feet to six ft below the bottom, with colder climates calling for deeper pipes. For sewer traces close to the floor, a damaged pipe can quickly start to pool water which seeps through the grass and turns into visible on the floor. As the roots accumulate in the pipe, they create a blockage which prevents wastewater from correctly draining. This may end up in a wastewater (sewer) backup in your home. If you are a house owner, then you know that there are always issues that have to be repaired. A junction liner may additionally be used to repair a damaged or damaged tee and restore structural integrity. Laterals When repairing lateral connections a “lateral packer” is winched via the sewer line until the packer is lined up with the infiltrated connection. The finish parts on the packer are inflated at the lateral to 35 psi, after which a Urethane grout is injected. The chemical grout types a watertight, protecting gasket on the outside of the pipe, sealing the infiltrated space. Consider these eight factors that can assist you higher perceive when sewer line substitute may be needed, what it entails, and why. Most home drains exit on the front of the property but can be totally different for corner lot houses. The main water valve and water meter are usually in the identical space as the piping runs in the identical trench. Lastly, while trenchless piping is a unbelievable new know-how, it would not set up itself — who you hire to do your trenchless sewer repair or substitute issues.

[landonplumbingllc]

Everyone Needs to Know About Their Septic System

It isn't just regarding being harmless to the ecosystem. Indeed, permitting your septic tank to flood because of carelessness can cause a wide range of contamination issues, not the least of which could incorporate polluting your drinking water. It is additionally regarding saving your wallet.

Did you had any idea about that a disregarded septic framework can without much of a stretch expense you $6,000 or more? Rates are higher for crisis septic tank siphoning, however you likewise need to consider that you might require extra fixes or swaps for your framework and might have made harm different pieces of your property or even your neighbor's. That is presumably not the manner in which you expected to welcome your new neighbors!

The uplifting news is, you don't need to end up in that circumstance. There are sure things to know and rules to observe which can hold you back from encountering a humiliating, costly, or even hazardous circumstance with your septic framework. Peruse on to learn four fundamental things you want to be familiar with your septic framework.

What is a septic framework?

In the event that your house is associated with the principle sewer line from the city or municipality, your waste water streams by gravity or lift siphons to the sewage treatment plant, where it is securely handled and made due. Those homes in peripheral regions might not approach the sewer lines, and therefore, an on location septic treatment framework is important. Basically, the septic framework is intended to process and kill natural and sterile waste locally. This waste can be most any fluid or strong that leaves your home from latrines, sinks and other pipes installations.

For a common septic framework, there are four principle parts:

1. A line which drives the die from the house;

2. A septic tank where the waste is permitted to isolate: solids sink to the base, oil and oil float to the top, and water stays in the center;

3. A dissemination box which takes the wastewater from the septic tank and guides it to a few punctured pipes. Those lines lead the water to:

4. Your dirt. An enormous soil surface region, for the most part called a channel field or drain field, channels the waste, as it gradually permeates into the ground and at last the groundwater.

Elective septic frameworks

Most option septic frameworks are simply slight varieties of the run of the mill septic framework depicted previously. One motivation behind why you could require an elective framework could be that there are as of now an excessive number of normal septic frameworks encompassing you. Another reason could be that you live excessively near surface water (stream, waterway, lake, or lake), a hotspot for well water, or you live in a space with a high water table. One of the principle reasons, however, is unfortunate soil conditions.

There are a lot of ways of working around these possible issues. Numerous elective frameworks use sand, peat, or counterfeit channels rather than soil in a channel field. Some utilization mechanical parts, for example, float switches and siphons to keep up with the framework. Elective septic frameworks, particularly ones with mechanical parts, ought to be assessed every year.

By regulation, all septic frameworks should be enrolled with your nearby wellbeing division. So on the off chance that you are uncertain with regards to your sort of septic framework, or you might want to introduce one, your nearby wellbeing division is a decent reference.

What should never go down your channels and latrines?

There are many things which can create some issues for septic frameworks. Some are self-evident, yet some might astonish you. We can't list ALL of them here, however these are a few models:

Soil - Anyone who washes their vases in the sink or bath may not understand they have an obstruct in the works. The soil will develop in pipes and basically cause slow depleting, while perhaps not more regrettable: complete blockage of the channel field.

Q-tips - Sure, they are little and appear to be innocuous, yet remember they are not biodegradable. Regardless of whether you are fortunate enough not to have a q-tip obstruct your channel, that thing will be sitting in your channel field into the indefinite future.

Kitty litter - Unless your feline is prepared to sit on the latrine each time it needs to go, keep its loss out of there. Keep in mind, kitty litter is intended to bunch. On the off chance that it doesn't make a stopped up channel, it is adding to the strong waste in your tank, which will require more incessant siphoning.

Paper towels and tissues - These things are not tissue! They don't separate effectively like tissue does and are known to create some issues.

Synthetic compounds - You couldn't pour acetone on your front yard, OK? Okay, how could you put it down your channel? Keep in mind, anything you set down your channel winds up in your filter field - don't defile your own dirt with any unsafe synthetic substances like liquid catalyst, utilized oil, paints, and so forth Eventually, they might wind up in the groundwater.

Once more, the above list isn't exhaustive, yet it helps give you definitely instances of what not to put down your channels. Any things which are not biodegradable or can cause obstructs should be avoided your septic framework. If all else fails, forget about it.

How frequently does your septic tank should be siphoned or overhauled?

There are three main considerations which play into how regularly your septic framework requires siphoning:

1. The quantity of individuals in your family - more individuals implies more wastewater is produced.

2. How much solids in your wastewater - the more strong waste, the faster a tank will fill. One propensity to try not to is utilize a waste disposal again and again as it can enormously expand the strong waste in your tank.

3. Tank size - Tank sizes can change from two or three hundred to 1500 gallons. Most homes will have a tank around 1000 gallons. Clearly, the greater the tank, the more it takes to fill.

A basic guideline is that most tanks ought to be siphoned each 2-5 years. With a higher water table or close by surface water, yearly siphoning might be required. Nonetheless, with such countless factors included, it is ideal to not make suppositions with your specific framework. Get it examined routinely, regularly like clockwork. Elective frameworks ought to be assessed yearly. The overseer can provide you with a decent gauge of how regularly the tank ought to be siphoned.

The most effective way to decide how frequently your tank should be siphoned is by really getting it siphoned! Get some information about the ooze and rubbish levels in your tank. Note those subtleties in a report and keep records starting with one siphon then onto the next. Doing as such tells you how rapidly the tank is topping off and whether or not you can stand by longer between siphons.

If you need drain cleaning in the Baltimore area, call today at 410-284-7430.

[waterfiltergurus]

Water Softener and Septic Systems: How to Ensure Compatibility

If you have a private septic system on your property, you might be wondering whether a water softener might affect the septic tank - and how you can best ensure compatibility between the two systems. We've shared everything you need to know about water softeners and septic systems in this guide. 📌 Key Takeaways: - Some sources say that sodium chloride in water softener brine may affect the performance of bacteria in septic systems and lower the hydraulic conductivity in the drain field. - However, other studies have found that the salt in water softener brine might actually be good for anaerobic digestion in a septic tank. - To ensure compatibility between a water softener and a septic system, buy an efficient water softener, make amendments to your septic system design, and consider swapping sodium for potassium in the brine tank. 🔎 Water Softeners: A Quick Overview A water softening system is a type of whole-home water treatment appliance that tackles the common issue of limescale. By removing the minerals responsible for water hardness, a water softener prevents the effects of hard water, including scale formation on pipes and appliances. This helps to maintain good water flow and appliance efficiency. Water softeners use a softening process known as ion exchange to replace calcium and magnesium ions with sodium ions (salt). Every few days, water softeners regenerate, flushing the resin beads with salt brine to remove the accumulated hardness minerals and replenish the sodium. 🔎 Septic Systems: A Quick Overview A septic system is a buried underground container that consists of a drain field, a septic tank, and a distribution box. A septic system is connected via pipes to your home, allowing wastewater to travel into the septic tank, where the heavy solids and the lighter materials separate. Gradually, the waste in the septic system decomposes, helped along by naturally occurring aerobic and anaerobic bacteria. Water is discharged from the septic tank into the drain field. 🤔 Are Water Softeners Harmful To Septic Tanks? So, now we know how a septic system works and why people use water softeners, is there a danger of these systems combined? If you've already done some research into the effects of water softeners on septic systems, you might be feeling fairly confused. That's because the information on this subject is conflicting. Some sources say that water softeners are bad for septic tanks - and, in fact, some states restrict the use of water softeners due to this reason (amongst others). However, a study was conducted in the 1970s by the National Sanitation Foundation (NSF) that concluded that water softeners had no detrimental effects on septic systems. Both the Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) and the Water Quality Association (WQA) endorsed this study and agreed that there are no effects of water softeners on septic systems. 🧐 Why Might Water Softeners Harm Septic Tanks? The theorized reason why water softeners might harm septic tanks is that the backwash during the regeneration process may compromise the good bacteria in a septic tank, which is needed to break down the waste. All water softener systems need to regenerate as part of the water softening process. Regeneration is when the water softener flushes the resin tank with a salty solution called brine, to lift the accumulated hardness minerals and replenish the resin beads with sodium ions. Once this salty water has been used to flush the resin, it's sent down a drain, where (in homes with septic systems) it ends up in the septic tank. Some sources say that the high salt content of the brine solution may reduce the rate of sewage breakdown in a septic tank because of its effects on the naturally occurring bacteria. The brine discharge may also reduce the space in the septic tank that could be used to store the solid waste, resulting in the need for more frequent emptying. We should also consider what happens when the brine solution is sent into the soil absorption field. There's a theory that the sodium chloride in the solution could cause the underlying soil to become damaged, but the actual evidence to support this theory is largely inconclusive. 📋 How Might Water Softeners Have A Positive Influence On Septic Systems? You're probably feeling nervous about using a water softener with a septic system by now. However, there is evidence on the contrary to suggest that water softeners aren't only not damaging to septic systems, but that they might even benefit septic systems. For instance, a study conducted by the University of Wisconsin looked at what might happen if a water softener is installed before a septic system and found that actually, the sodium chloride in the brine might optimize the organic waste treatment process by aiding the growth of aerobic bacteria. So, it's clear that more studies are needed to establish the link between a water softener and a septic system and confirm for certain whether the brine discharge from a softening system is good or bad for waste breakdown. 📖 How To Ensure Compatibility Between Water Softeners And Septic Tank Systems Here are the best ways to make sure your water softener is compatible with your septic system. Buy A High-Efficiency Water Softener Our top recommended way to ensure compatibility between a water softener and a septic system is to buy a high-efficiency water softener. Efficient water softeners will only waste the necessary amount of salt water, while an inefficient system may regenerate too frequently or waste a high volume of brine, resulting in too much salt and water leaving the tank. We recommend a water softener that performs demand-initiated regeneration, which means it calculates when it needs to regenerate based on your water hardness and daily water usage. So, he softener will only regenerate when it needs to, rather than regenerating to a set schedule, which could result in excess brine discharge. The most efficient water softeners use Water Efficient Technology, meaning that they only use the required amount of salt and water in the water treatment process. Use Potassium In Your Softener If you're still uncertain about using a water softener because your home has a septic system, switch to potassium chloride in the brine tank. Potassium chloride plays the same role in the ion exchange process and is just as effective as sodium chloride (salt) at producing softened water. But there are no concerns about the effect of potassium chloride on septic tank bacteria, so it's a good alternative to salt for folks with concerns. Alter The Design Of Your Septic System If you're in the process of designing a septic system, make sure it's suitably designed for use with a water softener. First, size up. Your septic tank will need to have a large enough capacity for your waste and the additional hydraulic load from the softener. Also, if you can, don't use clay in your drain field. You're more likely to have issues with clay soils because of their low hydraulic conductivity. At least try to avoid swelling clay in the leach field, which will go some way to reducing the effects of the high sodium concentration in the field. 📑 Alternative Option: Buy A Salt-Free Water Softener Alternatively, if you're concerned about the effects of a water softener on a septic system or you live in a state that restricts the use of water softeners in such situations, consider buying a salt-free water softener. Salt-free softeners use a conditioning process that alters the formation of hardness minerals, preventing them from forming scale. They're known as conditioners or descalers because they don't produce softened water - water is technically still "hard" because it still contains hardness minerals. A water conditioner doesn't use a brine tank and doesn't need salt to operate. It also doesn't regenerate or release sodium chloride in wastewater, so it's a good option for folks who would rather avoid these effects of water softeners altogether. Read the full article

[championsyedm]

More food waste going down the garbage disposal

Moen GXP50C vs Badger 500 The Moen GXP50C Prep Series PRO 1/2 HP Continuous Feed Garbage Disposal, Power Cord Included dishwasher inlet is not intended to be used as a sink vent. Only use the inlet for the intended purpose of connecting the dishwasher It does not come with a power cord. It is presumed that you are replacing an existing unit. It features an outlet for connecting to the hose from your dishwasher. You must be cautious and ensure that the plastic insert on the disposal is removed before attaching the hose. It says 2 years right on the box, however I've had mine for over 6 years and am only now experiencing a problem with it not turning over. It gets power, but it won't turn...I'm at a loss for what to do other than buy another - which I would do. This is an excellent small machine that has never failed, corroded, or broken. More food waste going down the garbage disposal means less going to the landfill. CONSCIOUS DESIGN: Compact design saves important under-sink space and is lightweight for simple installation. 5-year limited warranty with promises for in-home service When you need it, aid is available. USE SAFELY WITH APPROPRIATELY SIZED SEPTIC TANKS For homeowners who prepare simple meals and wish to keep their kitchens clean and fresh, the Prep Series is made. Prep disposes of common foods like: compared to models where cord must be purchased individually, offers savings. Easy removal of cord for hardwiring USE SAFELY WITH APPROPRIATELY SIZED SEPTIC TANKS For homeowners who prepare simple meals and wish to keep their kitchens clean and fresh, the Prep Series is made. Prep disposes of common foods like: compared to models where cord must be purchased individually, offers savings. Easy removal of cord for hardwiring Disposals are an environmentally responsible choice for your house since they limit the amount of waste that is dumped in landfills. Designed for people who slice, dice, and peel as part of basic meal preparation and require a bit additional assistance with cleanup, the PREP SERIES removes odors from the area surrounding the sink by more thoroughly removing food leftovers. As long as the electricity is on, stainless steel parts will continue to grind. compared to models where cord must be purchased individually, offers savings. Easy removal of cord for hardwiring QUICK SWAP: Includes pre-installed power cord and fits the majority of existing assemblies, including those from other brands. Its small size and the Universal XPRESS Mount, which fits the majority of current 3-bolt mounting assemblies, make installation simple.

https://litecomparison.com/moen-gxp50c-vs-badger-500/