#they are in fact very creepy

[grim-faux]

3 _ 45 _ The Trick and the Tricked

First – An Echo Rebounds Through the Silent City

Trigger Warning for disturbing themes and images and some graphic descriptions. I know this is Little Nightmares, but sometimes these chapters get too wholesome I don't want people forgetting what series this is.

On the frumpy couch draped a long limbed and long bodied shape, the head tilted far back with the hat askew and low over the brow. Throughout the small living space extending from the inert shape, the air buzzed gently, a lone standing lamp in one corner – partially bent in the center – flashed periodically. Boxes and other castoffs such as clothing and collapsed erosion from the ceiling, coated the floor in a fine archeological curiosity of a past history. The archway of the distant hall awaited silent and dim, while a mischievous breeze skittered through a distant room somewhere. If not for the lanky figure sprawled on the couch this abode would be no different from the winding roads and prolific buildings brimming throughout the Pale City; deserted and forgotten.

However, abandoned on the floor huddled one lone cushion. The grungy cushion separated from its home beside the couch's base and waddled across the floor. That is, until it flopped forward, and the child tumbled over it.

It was great joy for Mono to climb onto the back of the cushion, snare it by a corner (or two) and try to pull the cushion up and over, all while he stood on it. Coupled with the weird distortions the Thin Man caused with his twitching, it was almost as if the cushion had a will of its own. Though it didn’t. Where or which way the cushion would flip was always a surprise, each time he tried to anticipate when he’d lose his balance and try catching himself before plopping onto his backside. Thus far, he was having a difficult time with that objective. This was all a lot of coordination and balance, a game he couldn't afford to avoid.

For Mono under his latest hat, the room is very dark, it was dark even when he managed to find his way back to the isolated dwelling a while ago. Some of the windows from other residents revealed the dark was ever present, thus quiet and dark time when the lampposts blazed brightest in the murk. This didn’t mean Mono could curl up in his room, since the tall thin man was already doing the rest. That was annoying and alarming to come back to, but nothing stopped the Thin Man from doing whatever he wanted to do. But the Thin Man did look so out of it when Mono caught him - the tall man should know better than run away from Mono when keep each other was the best. Then again, he didn't keep the bird.

She always liked when he caught something. This Mono knew, because they always had fights. When the Thin Man knew everything, then stuff like birds made him remember the girl. He knew Mono had Her and She was for a while his, and that upset the man and his hat. Even if he never did speek about Her to Mono, that didn't mean the Thin Man wasn't think about it. Mono tried not to think about any of that while he had his Thin Man.

Instead, he focused on other activities. Such as fighting the couch pillow. It wasn’t as great as the cushy pillows from the stores, but it flopped around and he could haul it through to the other rooms and across the small living space. He liked pretending the Thin Man was watching and impressed with Mono's power and skill. He always wanted Mono to do more. So, with mighty Mono strength he would lift the stiff cushion and hurl it a foot or something, and lunge at the stiff fiber to bite and kick. And headbutted it. Hard.

When he tumbled a little closer to the Thin Man’s place, Mono uncoiled himself and shuffled over to the statue figure. With a flash of his hand, he swung out an arm and smacked one long leg. And much faster, he turned coattail and zipped toward the corridor and hid beside the crooked edge.

Concealed by the corner of the wall, he fixed his hat and peeked out, checking for flicker of the light or a bristle in the static tinge soaked into the room. Nothing.

Zilch response.

That made Mono feel somewhat better, for some reason. The man in the hat was quiet. Mono made certain the rooms remained empty and untouched. Dangers were ever lurking, but Mono was amazing. He never let his guard down. When the Thin Man did rest, the Mono was watch. And he was best at it.

During the quiet spans between scouting, he partook in another activity that was becoming a steady recurrence. Mono would stick to one room and copy mark symbols from a book, onto one of the walls or floor. He only did a few symbols that didn’t need much turns or curves, and like the Thin Man, he liked to add some pictures. To tell his own sort of story. It was all mostly of scenery he recognized – trees and a field of grass, or the big water. And a door. Sometimes he carved out the places he liked to hide, like a broken desk or a little hole in the wall, and added the symbols to make work where this was. Birds would go into the symbol marks too, or what he decided would be bird marks. And a box. And the hallway, with the chair patiently waiting at the very end.

It would be nice if he could draw an opening in the wall and climb into that, whenever he needed one. No televisions or turning, or charred glass bursting at his back. The only time holes could be made in walls was when the boards could be snapped off, or some Viewer or another monster (with a thunder stick) put the hole there. It was better if kids made their own holes, but kids couldn’t do a lot of things that the monsters could.

Like shriek for no reason.

Speek of monsters and hiding, somewhere in his musing, Mono wandered from his speek marking and got into a stealth game! He hid behind corners, or under the dark spaces of furniture. When he abandoned the stuffy shadows completely, it was to emerge into the musty room on delicate feet. He padded among the sturdiest patches of the ruined floor, evading splintered wood or brittle scraps of papers. There was a special skill of skipping carefully and not shredding the feet pads on splinters or whatever else was ground into the timber. He practiced dashing between draperies of murk along the walls and skidded into the inky recesses beneath furniture, practicing holding his breath and not letting his nose tingle with the dust kicked up. It was a habit to retreat backwards on his hands and feet, then stare out into the room for any trace of threat. Listen for any hushed snuffling. Feel the air around his ears as a large shape hurtled with violent intent, seeking the children that sought to stay undetected despite their best efforts.

Sometimes monsters knew for no good reason. It wasn't fair.

Though he was not hiding from anything really, it was good to always know what he could manage while rooms brewed with passive and empty. Disjointed horrors came rooting around during the worst of times, and practiced kept kids from making the dumbest mistakes. Some kids got too scared to run, or couldn’t leap from windows to grab something. He’d seen a lot of kids twisted into bloody ravels.

He made a race from one room into the next, then squeezed up beneath a chair. The dwelling remained void of sounds, aside from his own heartbeat and muffled breathing beneath the brim of his hat.

Nothing lumbered about or bellowed, no abominable intruder crashed into the room. He sheltered from the air and the ugly blotches twisting across the walls. A smolder of pride burned in his chest, despite how inane the whole play act scenario was. He was so wily with escape and disappear, he could practically make himself vanish form the air itself. That skill kept him away from cages. Everything he did was only for escape, and watch others get caught. 

The fire leapt around them. One-by-one, each kid got snared up. He didn't look back.

He scooted from beneath the chair, staying low and creeping on airy steps. With extreme care, he tested his weight on each floorboard. He wanted to make it to the doorway without a creak, but the warped boards made that feat a near impossibility. He inched to the hallway, first perching by the doorframe and checking for movement through the familiar fringes. The cap slipped some over his brow but didn’t bother his vision too much. Crouched low, he prowled into the corridor and slipped along the wall, then upon reaching the next open doorway he coiled down and listened for out of place noises.

Sometimes he thought about the other children. The one’s that chased. Being extra cautious was a new priority on his errand list. So many questions, no answers. Just angry faces and chase.

With a shiver, Mono shook his head. He stood up in the bathroom and abandoned the area, rushing through the corridor and back to the big room. The cushion waiting there received a full tackle, and Mono learned he could hold the lumpy sides and do a barrel roll across the dingy piece of carpet. For a while he fought the cushion, trying to fold it over and sit on it.

One of the plush toys lay on the other side of the room, dumped behind a crate. He abandoned the cushion to dash over and grab the thing. He pulled the floppy animal out and sat with it, giving it a strict scrutiny – arms, head, chest, legs – he examined ever loose thread, and its frayed seams.

“Hurt?” he posed, to the mute, inanimate, and very unalive creature. “Wh’rr hurt?” The stuffed toy didn’t complain when he checked its muzzle. He could pull it apart, that wouldn’t matter to it one bit. On the other hand, Mono would not like being pulled apart. He was still trying to work out how to explain soft to the Thin Man. That was important. The man and his hat didn't understand how soft Mono was, and how it upset him the way the Thin Man pried at his arms and squished his chest. Mono was careful while examining the animal plush. Except when he coiled his arms around it and squeezed. "Shh... shh. Non'that. Ya'ok."

The tall thin man had two modes. Annoyed and grumpy. Mono hoped something would eventually cheer up the man in the hat, but waiting for something never accomplished much. Now, Mono wasn’t sure if it would be okay to stop for rest, because the Thin Man went nutty when he did something different. It was hard to figure what the Thin Man wanted. He wanted Mono to do powers, or make speek, and sometimes looked at Mono so closely it made his bones tingle. And despite always grabbing and looking at Mono, he always looked grumpy about something. This had something to do with the other kids, Mono was certain. They were not Mono.

Mono left the plush propped by the wall and hidden by the crate. He snuck to the far side of the couch and climbed onto the center cushion, where the Thin Man’s arm sagged. One of the smoke sticks dangled between his fingers, a faint wispy trail wound away from its end. He glared at the innocent vapor through the gloom, shoulders cinched beneath the hat and his fists in a knot on the gritty fiber of the couch.

Creeping a little closer to the Thin Man’s wrist, Mono griped at the dingy fabric of the seat cushion with his toes, to keep himself from somersaulting forward. He never got a good look at them while the things were lit, the Thin Man was always busy eating them. The Thin Man did speek that this was not food, but he always gnawed on the burning things. Staring at the smoldering tip, it really didn’t look like food. He was close enough, and with the contrast of the drafty room, he could detect how warm the stick was. Is that what made the Thin Man warm?

Mono stuck his tongue against the end the Thin Man always bit—

The fingers twitched, and Mono recoiled to the base of the couch’s backside. He curled down into the crease, hands latched over his cap and knees barred around his face. For several seconds he hunkered down, waiting for anything, braced for the worst. However, nothing happened.

Uncoiling ever so slowly, he craned his head up and checked for other signs. The Thin Man looked detached and hushed, the sharp angles of his outline vibrating.

“Ar’wake?” Mono whispered. He inched closer to the tall thin man and pushed against his knee. No response. It didn’t look like the Thin Man shut his eyes, but Mono didn’t really think he shut his own eyes when he did half sleep. He couldn’t be sure. The Thin Man was different, anyway.

Despite his uncertainty, Mono shook out of the defensive bubble and stood by the Thin Man’s leg. He planted his hands on the stiff slacks and perched, watching the face intently. The static curled through the room calm, no reaction comes from the Thin Man. Mono tried to decide how long the Thin Man was rest, but the tall thin man was already out when he found him. It wouldn’t matter either, the Thin Man might have dream haunts or just wake when he felt like it.

Satisfied by the lack of any reaction, Mono put his weight on his arms and clambered onto the Thin Man’s lap. He scooted in close to the tol man and tucked his arms against his chest, then could nestle against the Thin Man’s tummy and listen for the static rustling. His hat bent awkwardly against his ear, but he was used to that. Warmth, but no rest. Someone had to be watch. As always, the task was left to Mono. He could be comfortable for a while, and have together; even if it was not real. It wasn’t really fake, either. It was important for Mono.

Skittery and off creaking did draw Mono from his quiet musings and calm. Mostly the walls groaning, a draft slicing through the distant window. He set focus on the main corridor, where something unspeakable would enter with bellowing and flailing arms. Sighing, he pressed his face into the edge of the jacket and kept one eye open, needle point attention directed on all of their surroundings.

She... the Six. The time with her reminded him about stuff that happened before the Thin Man, when he packed with other kids. Real pack. Not what he did with the Thin Man. That was forever ago and somehow felt much further away, even when he found Her again. She tried to throw him away once, but the Thin Man was there… he didn’t remember much before Her, and sort of forgot about her when he had the Thin Man. His head was foggy about everything he did to steal her back – he remembered the Tower, and doors. The light was bright and things floated around, but not Mono. Mono fell.

He tightened up into his coat more, and thought about the bird. Well, not the bird. The Thin Man took him from that place, and put him in another. He gave him a box to rip apart, and it had the food stuff inside. The Thin Man left the way he always did, and Mono had to go look for him again. Some other things happened. Another monster different from the Viewers and wandering through a building. Mono tricked it. He was good at tricks. He was getting better at catching birds. He was not good with keeping friends, though. At least he could be with the Thin Man sometimes. Thanks to Mono, the Thin Man stayed safe. It was a full time busy, but it made important.

Eventual. That was something the Thin Man always made story about. The event'eels. He always talked about the place where Mono would be, and there would be good stuff and friends. Lots of other children.

But he didn’t want other children or good stuff. The best was when he had his Thin Man, and when he was happy to be around Mono. At the same time, the creeping sense tinkled the back of his thoughts, reminding him that this wasn’t forever. Like all the others, the Thin Man had to go away too. Would he go back to the Tower and wait for some other kid to sum’en him? Maybe the Thin Man would just get bored with Mono and go stay with the other children, even if they didn’t like the tall man or his hat. He didn't understand anything about the Thin Man. except the keep children and watch them. That was what all the scrawled pictures of the silhouette and the hat meant, the children saw the Thin Man.

The edge of the city was still out there. It had a beginning, there had to be border somewhere. If it wasn’t a myth. It had been forever since he saw anything other than the tall spire in the distance, observing the ruined world it presided over. Or any other sort of landmark that to suggest a region beyond city roads and crowding skyrises existed. One day – not today but someday – he would try again to hurt the Tower. Then, the city might crumble away like the glitching children he tried to hug. Then, he wasn’t for sure but the idea did creep into him, if the Tower was tricked, it would never know where he would go, where he would be. It would all stop.

Maybe he would escape to the edge of the city and the open forests beyond the towering buildings. Forests and thick trees, like in the books he flipped through. Forests had animals, and biggest scary animals. The Hunters forests was very dangerous, what if all forests had big Hunters with thunder sticks and they fought the largest beasts? He barely got away from one Hunter. If not for….

Mono had strange ideas when it was quiet. His head always like to wander and plan. Someday….

He sniffled and pried himself away from the warmth of the Thin Man’s coat. He scrambled off the couch and dashed to the entrance of the corridor. He huddled by the wall, plucking debris out of his coattail. Not long following the retreat, the static on the air hummed. He plucked his head up and fixed his hat, when the Thin Man began to shift. The bent standing lamp flickered, as the tall thin man gave the room a short examination; he looked at the book left on the cushion beside him, before drawing his hand with the smoke stick wedged there, up to his face. The eyes beneath the hats sheltered rim gleamed as the orange ember blazed. It was always so neat the way the Thin Man did that.

No dream haunts. He would be in a good mood.

Mono left the shelter of the threshold and returned to the Thin Man. He ventured over to the long legs and patted the Thin Man on the shin, then turned and tottered off. Coattail flashing and legs whirling. He did debate taking a rest first, but it was important to do a scout through the lower stories; check for foods, see what the Viewers would be up to. Deal with them, too. A kids work was never done.

It’s the usual sort of hassle to haul something, in this case a large pot from the kitchen, to the entry. Even harder, pulling the door shut from the outside. But he has a solid scheme for getting the door secured and in order, allowing him to start off without alerting anything hazardous lurking around.

The rickety groaned in greeting around him. Some of the doors along the hall hung open, and the wind within windows spat at his passenger. No other sounds breached the symphony of the building, only the ruin of the walls ached by the wind and the rains sending rivers of water cascading down the walls. He reached the corridors turn and crept up to the corner, checking around the edge before moving out fully. On this side the floor was in worse shape, large gaps in the panels showed the rooms beneath.

A lever for an elevator does nothing when he pulled it. It might have something to do with the loose cable dangling inside the shaft. He has no problem grabbing the stiff cable and letting himself down, the dark of the chute surrounding him like an icy blanket. Through the walls trickled the rains seeking paths within the flanking walls, gurgling like the Flesh brewing between the cracks and surging across the floor. It was always there watching him, laughing at his struggles with getting to Her.

The sing box laughed at him too, didn’t it? He hated that so much. It knew he wanted with everything in his power to get her away, and fix everything that was wrong. Fight the Tower… or save his Six. He chose Six.

By the time he reached the only level with the open gate, his eyes burned with dust. He angled himself on the cable and leapt off, his feet made a satisfying Plop when he touched down. The floor creaked some as he renewed his running, choosing a lit corridor to the right rather the dim hall stretching into obscurity ahead.

Something might lurk that way. Cover first, listen, then scout around. He also made an effort to rub the wetness off his face before he got too carried away. He didn’t need to stumble into anything that would be rooting around for the sounds. There was no such thing as being too careful, just kids stole and never seen again.

From his recollection, these levels were very high up and the only way Mono could reach them was by crawling within the walls and sneaking through some vents. If there had been an easier way up, like a stairway or another elevator that worked, he would have used that. He wasn’t really sure if the window he entered from was attached to these floors and rooms he wandered through, sometimes the buildings leaned into each other and the only way to navigate the city was through the internal bridges of the connected corridors. A lot of times he did navigate the lower floors, and would get stranded from the upper stories because of a collapse or some other travel – such as a formally study rope snapping.

Mono was sure this time would be fine. He knew these corridors very well, and there were no Viewers lurking in the rooms he scouted through. No televisions crooning either, though the buzzing boxes no longer held the same draw over the creatures the way it used to.

Out on the streets, he had watched from a high brick wall as a Viewer trudged past a television sitting on a mound of cracked asphalt. Nothing stopped the Viewer from reaching the screen or the soft chatter of the song tunes, but the adult marched on by.

And came right over to where Mono was perched, and gawked up at him.

It was expected, but the whole thing still unsettled Mono. Which was why he had not chosen a side to hop off the wall. The Thin Man warned him the Viewers had been… zesty. Or testy? Something Eee about the televisions and not looking at them.

Thus far, none of the rooms had produced anything that could interest him. He crept along a countertop, working to get the upper cabinets opened with a thin pipe he plucked up. It was too light to be a weapon, and bent easily when the broken cupboards refused to share their secrets. He’d like to take the metal thing to the Thin Man and see what he would do with it, but he couldn’t climb with it and didn’t have a way to hook it onto his coat ring.

He sat beside the cabinet, fiddling with the ring on his coat and trying to bend the pipe, but something in the doorway caught his attention.

It was a flash of something fast, and he twisted around to face the other entry fully. There was another doorway he had been facing, but that led deeper into the home. It would be bad to get trapped in the dwelling, but he wasn’t worried about the thing he saw.

Taking the pipe along, he rushed to the threshold where he saw the movement. When he reached the edge of the doorframe, he crouched low and watched the large room.

As he knew, it was an other child. The Thin Man must have been looking for them. This realization made Mono’s chest tighten. They must be lost. The kid was sneaking further along the wall, across from where he huddled and watched. The kid snuck and glanced around, but didn’t notice Mono yet. When the other kid was near the doorway at the other wall, Mono inched away from his hide spot crept after them.

The other kid navigated through the next room. Their face skimmed over furniture and a collapsing bookshelf, but none of the furniture gave much hide space. The only way out of the room was a vent close to the floor. Mono didn’t wait for them to disappear into the dark passage, and scurried into the room,

“Psst. Hey.” He didn’t stay in the open, and ducked under a nearby table when the other kid looked back. Now that they faced him, he decided they might be a girl, in a very oversized sweater or some other kid of shirt thick with thick fiber. It might’ve been all the kid wore, since it came down all the way to their knees. He couldn’t tell and that wasn’t important.

“Woo,” the kid called back. She(?) turned and went to the opening of the vent, but stalled there to twist around and beckon to him. Then she slipped into the gloomy passage. The thudding noises hummed back into the room, soft and careful the way children stalked through the hollowed passages to avoid alerting creatures.

Without wasting any more time, Mono scampered to the flue and crawled inside. The pipe clonked the walls when he tried to haul it inside, so he ditched it in favor of catching up. It didn’t take him long to reach the other child in the vent, he was good at skipping on his fingers and keeping his strike fluid. He was always good at flee and hide.

“Hey.” In the faint glow from an open vent above, the other kid glanced back at him. Used the familiar speek.

“Ladder?” he murmured. They didn’t respond, but they didn’t hit him or shove at him away. The kid only turned and kept moving through the vent.

“Him? He cooed. “For him?” They weren’t going the right way to find the tall then man, but she might was still searching around the lower floors. Was she protecting the Thin Man? That was his job!

It was some crawling and narrow turns in the vent, somewhere the walls buckled from a collapse. At some point it would cave in entirely, but he didn’t worry about that. Mono scooted out of the opening after the girl, his hand gunked up by something on the floor.

“Hey.” He tugged on the girls sleeve, and she looked over at him. “Mono.” He placed his palms over his chest, and repeated, “Mono.”

The girl tilted her head, her brows knitted in a strange way. She didn’t say anything, she just scuffed her heel on the floor. Her feet were strange, not like his. “Chi’va’yus cajuh yasstumah?”

It was Mono’s turn to tilt his head. “Cah…chus?”

“Tah muveus Polski?” she whispered.

Mono let his gaze drift away from the girl, his focus roaming the room and its furnishings. He wondered if the girl came here and waited for the Thin Man.

“Seer de chuztam.” She reached for his hand, but Mono was quick to snap his arm away and brush past the girl. He wandered over to the doorframe and crouched there, checking up and down the hall to either side. The doors along the corridor hung open, and from the pale glow of bulbs gleamed a sort of sheen on the carpet.

“Psst.” The girl inched out of the threshold, her eyes seeking the gloomy portals punched into the doorways. She kept close to the wall, sifting around the bundles of rubbish bags splinting along the seams.

Mono went the other direction, choosing to poke through the open rooms that looked deserted. One of the doors creaked from the gale blasting through the whole in a wall, where the window probably should have been. He wandered over to the edge where the floor splintered and broke away, his feet slipping somewhat on the wood greased by rains and silt. A gust snatched at his hat, but he was swift to snag it back before the rains swatted at his scalp.

He stood high above the rolling mist, watching the dark threads swirl downward to the obscurity of wherever the city and its buildings, and roads, and all the places existed below. The two worlds of the city, the places in the woven roads cutting through smaller buildings, and then the skyrises that stretched into the clouds – erasing the roads. He never didn’t think much about how he reached the summits of the roofs, or the trial of returning the roads below. The buildings were vertical island, each isolated by a sea of insubstantial storms clawing at the foundation. Why did the buildings exist? Who made them? To worship the Tower?

Mysteries that didn’t concern children. They offered food, they provided shelter from the storms, but once he was high into the structures the world below vanished. Ceased existing.

While exploring through one of the other rooms – not torn open and gaping at the clouds – he discovered a nest of toys and the picture speek on walls. He would have jumped onto the pile of soft plushies, but  something was wrong with them. And it was not the scatter of leather wrapped bones layered among the bulbous arms and glassy eyes.

Before really examining the nest, he searched above. The homes always had weird crust and tattered stuff dangling from the windows, and cloth unraveling across the floor – it always caught his toes if he wasn’t careful. Something about the lacey threads on the walls and glistening in the flicking bulb, made him very uneasy. He supposed it was something he had not seen before, but it often worked that unusual things lingering around was not something to dismiss.

The Morgue Hospital was one place where a kid could never let their guard down.

Rather prod at the nest itself, he plucked up a piece of wood from the floor and dug it into the layering. It was silty and dusty, and sort of crusty too. It also held fast to the board like syrup. He didn’t fool around with it much aside from that, and let the flint of wood to its new home.

The other rooms were in the same condition, but Mono took careful scrutiny of the floors and the spaces beneath the furniture. When he first tried to enter a room, his foot caught on something and he tumble to his knees. A bit noisily.

That prompted him to scurry for the nearest chair, but when he got too near it his eyes caught a shimmer of something that made him full stop. Which caused another stumble, with how his foot was now sticky and caught on the flakes of wallpaper on the floor. He ignored that in favor of turning his head, and adjusting his hat enough to peer under the chairs legs.

More of the lacey stuff that shimmered. It looked more like cloth with how thick it coated the chair, but when light from a nearby lamp hit the strands just right, it made the fiber shimmer like filthy water. It looked colorful, like the light from inside the….

A trill of alarm lit the back of his mind.

Now that he was scanning the room over more carefully, his eyes could fix on the shimmering substance sleeked across the walls. At first, he thought it was just from the rains trickling across the drywall the way it always did. Water found its way into everything, despite how deep he burrowed into the walls. But this shimmering wasn’t really moving, it was glinting with each buzz of the light bulb. And also, the gurgling from water was not here. The room was near silent, except for the distant hum of the storm.

Mono did his best to scrap the gunk off the pad of his foot, then scurried from the room. He searched the high walls now, putting the pieces of an ominous puzzle together.

A lot of the rooms had no food. Viewers meant food. The rooms were vacant. Empty. But not abandoned.

“Hey,” he risked. Calling and hissing as he peeked into the rooms. Something about the shimmering wisps swaying in the drafts made him uneasy. He knew it was bad, he knew there was danger. But he didn’t know what. Only what would happen. “Psst.”

Some sort of Whump! rebounded from a distant doorway. It startled Mono into a crouch, and he hid beside the wall listening and judging from what made that sort of bump. For an extended time he remained huddled, looking like nothing but apart of the heap of garbage he stayed beside. It took had the streak of shiny stuff, but he didn’t get close to it.

No other sound alarmed him. Slowly, he uncoiled himself and padded over to the doorway. It was open a crack, with a blade of light peeking out. He slid into the room, checking the walls for anything that might be using the distant cloak of black to shelter terrible intent. Nothing alarmed his already leery thoughts, which led him to search the next pressing eyecatcher.

The girl was over beside the bottom cabinets, laying on her side. This alarmed Mono, especially when an other kid shuffled in closer to her.

Mono gave a snort as he sprang into the room fully, his arms bent at his sides and shoulders squared up. His most intimidating threat for other kids. He was ready to tackle someone.

The brash launched proved to be premature, since the other girl was slowly pushing herself into sitting upright. The bulb above the oven range flashed, momentarily casting darkness through the room. The new kid swiveled toward Mono’s direction and flapped his arm.

No fight, no anger. That was good. And a kitchen, too. Mono cast his gaze across the cabinets, and took in the mugs and junk he could see over the edge of the countertops. Some of the lower cabinets had been opened, but it didn’t look like the two kids had found anything.

“Hey,” he called, as he moved closer to the packmates. It was familiar, like… Her, and him. Together. The thought made him take a deep breath of the musty air.

The other girl slowly climbed to her feet, slow and awkwardly from the bad fall. She made a strange gesture at Mono, which spurred him to skid on his footpads and draw back a step.

It was the way her arm moved. It was broken, but then… she wouldn’t be moving. Not when there was no danger and no flee. The girl sort of raised her arm like a line was tied to her elbow, with her wrist and then hand trailing in a strange direction. It looked more unsettling than the Patients locked in the Morgue Hospital. Why did her arm move that way?

The girl swung her arm again, and the same uncanniness swarmed his thoughts. She took a step back and as she did so, her head sort of tilted back. Not all the way, but enough to convince Mono to take a step back himself.

“Hmm?” he cooed. He watched the boy, who was now inching towards him. When the light brightened once more, the eerie condition of the new child raised panic in Mono. The kid wasn’t wearing a shirt and the pants plastered to his legs had rotted to threads. He was thin, but the texture of his skin and the way the light glistened over the hollows in his ribs… was wrong. Like his bones snaped apart and were trying to drill out.

With morbid fascination, he watched the other kid as their arm made another flapping motion. The other arm dangled at their side like a hollowed shirt sleeve and thinner than a thread, if not for the fingers dangling from the end of that arm Mono might have missed it.

The girls feet scuffed the floor. But she stopped moving. So did the new boy. They stopped moving, but stood and gave him those eerie arm—

Mono’s hair stood on end, and in a flash he had teleported a good ways to the side, nearly colliding with a cabinet. Not a moment after, something whizzed by his shoulder and bowled into the new kid. Mono steadied himself on the cupboard door and backed away, aware he should flee and never look back.

But that had been fast. And absolutely silent.

The other kids flailing arms knocked the girl down as well. She crashed hard to her backside, skull cracking on a discarded knife. The other kid… sort of fell apart.

He was in pieces of limbs. An arm, a leg, a foot tangled up in the lacey gunk coating the cupboards. His head was still rolling, and just gone by the time the oven light pulsed again.

The parts of the kid that did not scatter unraveled. But Mono did not need to see what emerged to put the final pieces together.

A set of sharp limbs descended over the girls body. The creature did nothing to her, but turned its glittery fangs towards the other thing unfolding from the other kids chest.

Mono tried pushing away from the cabinet, but one hand was caught on the gummy silky that decorated the rooms and the child nest. The substance stuck between his fingers and across his palms like gluey trap (something adults sometimes used), it felt like he’d pop his hand off if he pulled any harder.

A lot of rustling and clacking came from the creatures. The spider things. The one that tried to tackle Mono was getting menaced by the one that tore apart the boys body. As for the girl, she sort of rolled over as she struggled to stand. Beneath mess of stringy hair, a set of sharp legs wound up and tucked back into the base of her skull.

Mono could not tug hard enough. He dug his heels into the floor, aware if he smashed his feet into the cupboard he would be triple stuck. The floor here looked safe, but dusty. He tried scooping up handfuls of silt and throwing them at the goopy threads adhered to his palm, but that didn’t seem to be doing enough. It would have been bad if the door popped open with al his struggling, but the whole thing was attached to the cabinets. And the spiders were done hissing at each other, they turned the glossy black eyes towards him. So many eyes, all directed at him.

He hated being looked at!

As the light flashed again, some beside Mono caught his eye. He swept up the shard of glass and jammed that into the space between his hand and the cabinet. Somehow, it did bite through the matted gunk holding him fast, and also churned at the wood splinter he ground it into. Mono dropped to his rump as he continued jamming the blade into the soft wood, tearing up more threads than wood. He bucked hard, fighting the urge to kick at the door. He was making progress, he was going to get loose.

The spiders things hurtled at him right when he gave a final cleave with the glass piece, and gave his body a hard turn – dragging his arm away from the cupboard, but nearly ripping the socket from its joint. Pain was nothing compared to the ghastly sickles drawing up beneath the bristly legs.

Mono launched aside, catching him on his palms before shooting up into a sprint. One of the spider things produced an audible crash when it hit the door, but the other ground to a halt and began turning on its several sharp limps. As he rushed for the doorway he glance over his shoulder, certifying that neither of the two creatures had renewed the chase. On the other side, the girl was just sitting slouched beside the cupboards and no longer moving. Except for the mound of hair coating the nape of her neck.

All the hall looked the same he thought every stretch of glittery patch had something eerie poking from the pockmarked walls. Mono didn’t stop or take second glances, at his back the prattling feet found their heading. The creature was moving fast.

Some of the debris scattered throughout the hall did slow the creature, though. Mono scrambled over a suitcase or a hunk of chair, whereas the spider thing had to adjust its footing. He only took another glimpse to check its progress, a risky look. The spider and the other one had caught up with it, and to his relief that bickered about where the many legs would go. It was still two spiders and him.

To his dismay he couldn’t find a way out of the dwelling, except for the vent where he and the other kid came in. The spiders would untangle from the next fight and come for him, though he didn’t want to be in the vent confined with those things. The room didn’t have anyplace where he could hide and no other way for flee.

He dove into the vent and thundered across the walls and floor, the sides twisted around him like a certain pathway undulating with flesh. The path beneath his feet was not disintegrating, but the rapping scamper of those ugly legs were gaining on him. A pitiful whimper spilled form Mono as he galloped towards the musty cutout of light growing in the distance. Something scaly and ugly swiped at his ankle, that only told him he was going too slow. Yet he couldn’t fold and kick his legs fast enough in the confined space, and at the last stretch to fresh air he tumbled. His hat went flying. Something caught against his shoulder as he spun over, kicking at the sharp ends flailing at his face. He couldn’t see anything of the creature, except the glitter of its eyes and the dew of juice fluttering on a curved fang.

The thing at Mono’s back pinched his hip. It occurred to him that he dropped something in the flue, and before the thought finished blooming entirely he had the spike bent upward. It still had a kink in the tip, but the spider latched all five arms around Mono’s wonderful coat and dragged him into its embrace. An embrace that was obstructed by the sharp spike.

Mono cringed back into the sharp legs, the entire sprawl of the spiders width twitched, the sickle fangs unfurled further apart than what he thought possible. But it moved no further near him, and the creatures iron hold eased by a fraction. With a final sputter, the legs went rigid and Mono was able to sag backwards beside the pole. He couldn’t release it yet, but he did lock the rear tip into a notch in the vent. This wasn’t the time to pause or catch his breath. Not far within the passage, the clatter of many legs raced after the scene of internal juices oozing down the pipe.

Coiling in own legs up under him, Mono supplied a strong kick to the underside of the first spider. This dislodge the sharp claws from his coat and got him away from the hovering fangs. He twisted and wretched, some of the hooks of the spiders legs tugged threads out of his most amazing coat. But the other spider picked up the pace without issue, its long legs speared through the gaps in the passage left by its slain brethren. The arched prongs narrowly missed Mono when he somersaulted backwards, an act when sent the top of his head smashing against the upper edge of the vents access.

Somewhat dazed but still conscious, Mono flopped from the opening and back into the open air of the room. The relentless spider creature beat at the carcass that obstructed its path, the shred of that moment gave Mono a chance to search the room for the exit; while his senses persisted to tip and twist. He was about to rush for the nearest doorway, on the far side of the room. However, the chittering of the sharp legs on the hard floor reminded him of fake children, jeering at him.

Stealing Her.

To his right loomed a rickety bookcase, most the shelves barely tethered. Too dangerous to climb and no place to go. Not that he needed it to take him anywhere.

Mono pivoted on his toes and launched at the bookcase. The first shelf he caught snapped under his hand, but he was already skipping up to the second on third slate without issue. With each hike and leap, the entire structure quaked against his forceful strides. The fifth shelf snapped under his foot right as the entire frame buckled sideways, the left wall disconnected from the inner slates and swayed while Mono dangled by his fingertips. With the creaking wood, he couldn’t decide where the spider creature had gone too – had it followed, or was it spooked away? A mystery for another time, Mono focused on finding purchased with one of his feet as the walls swayed and began to tilt. All falling forward, with him still locked on.

With a mighty leap, Mono took a blind leap to the side. Just the same way when he knocked down the key. He landed on a patch of matted pages from a garbage bag, but managed to roll aside as the entire bookcase came cascading down. Not far from where Mono touched down, the second spider creature was retreating backwards from the books and other junk flying off the broken slates. The ugly creature didn’t stand a chance, by the time it scooted all the way around to evade the shelves completely, the slates cleaved through its body – this was followed by the whole rocking explosion of the walls and whatever else still loaded the remaining shelves.

Mono staggered back from the silt kicked up, and used an arched arm to bar the wall of dust from burying his senses. This didn’t save from two stifled sneezes, both of which felt explosive in the empty crackle of the cataclysms wake.

No sign of the spider thing survived. It had to be tricked or suffering. He hoped it suffered.

Mono plucked up a bit of wood and chucked it at the bookcase. He snatched up a chunk of drywall, then a hunk of plaster; each item produced a sharp clatter as he propelled them at their target. The spider thing was tricked. Both of them. They wouldn’t be bothering any other kids.

For several minutes, Mono stood glaring at the bookcase, his fists knotted up at his sides. He wanted to drag the spider back out and trick it again – stitch it back together, then pull it apart. Over and over. He wanted to drown it, and bite it, and beat it with a heavy pipe. Hurt it again and again until he didn’t have anymore hurt in himself.

He HATED IT!

Without another thought of the scene, he whipped around and sprint out of the room. He didn’t care he lost another hat, he didn’t care about anything but getting far away from the dust and silence.

By the time he navigated his way out of the dwelling and back into the familiar open corridors, Mono had calmed down. Sort of. He stopped thinking about the crooked legs knitting behind the girls stringy hair, or the boys flesh unraveling from his bones, or the way the skin—

He shook out of the daze, realizing he was gawking at an open window in one of the corridors derelict ends. The wind moaned against the slapping and sodden rags dangling beside the broken glass, the lone remaining plank of wood rattled as the gale tugged at it. Tick-Tick… tick-tick… tick-tock. Tick-tock… tick.

Hovering high in the misty distance was the gleaming eye of the sharp spire, ever watchful of the buildings and citizens of the city. And possible Mono.

‘It calls to me.’

And Six stared at him from the void of the dark hood. The coat made Her important, just like the wonderful coat made him important. They would flee and escape all the terrible things that wanted to make them fail. He wouldn’t let them fail. They would hurt the Tower. He would show Her how. He showed her a lot of things for safe and flee, and how to pack.

Something blasted past the window, cutting out the sheets of rain only briefly. The shape was followed by a crackling wail but in the next moment it was gone, as if that never happened. The Signal Beacon seemed to smolder brighter like the eyes of the Hunter within the stitched sack.

Wandering around with nothing to show for it, Mono meandered his way back to the elevator chute with the stiff cord. It was just as cold and clammy as the time he slipped down, and climbing back up was no more a challenge than trying not to lose his grip. The metal was not as comforting as a sheet or tangled shirt, it wouldn’t give under his vice grip and only seared into his fingers like blades. He had to take a moment after leaping off and back onto solid ground to get his bearings, and rub the fresh tear in his palm. He tried not to remember how he got that. He did flee, that was all that mattered.

He ran away. The fastest got away, the slowest stalled the monsters.

Getting the door of the room shut was much easier when he could shove it from the other side. There wasn’t much reason for making the door shut, it was just a habit. As he suspected, when he went to the big room with the couch the space was empty.

He took a breath, feeling the stale air on his tongue. The door was shut, and after a short scout he would curl up someplace and rest. That jittery sensation hadn’t dissolved from his skin, every scrap of shadow or twitch of the light put a quivering panic into his skin. Static flakes bristled off his coat like a TV was around, but he ignored that in favor of keeping watch of his surroundings.

So lost in thought was he, the steady tick and tapping slipped by his hyper tuned radar. Up until long fingers swept around his body and lifted him high.

Mono snarled and began fighting. All his retaliation went into bites and clawing, but he was no match for the suffocating grip tightening around his chest.

“Child,” crackled the Thin Man. “Where have you been hiding? I could not sense you.”

The abrupt sound did not ease Mono one bit, and he renewed his gnawing on the boney knuckles. Especially when he was adjusted and pressed to the coarse tweed of the Thin Man’s jacket. He bit down so hard his jaw ached, and his sore tooth stabbed into his jaw.

“Shh. None of that.” The Thin Man moved. Or glittered and filled Mono’s head with the pulsing chatter of static; his own skin buzzed with the sensation, while the tired lamp flickered by the wall. The tall man pried him away and began prodding his body, nudging hard at his torso or plucking at his legs. Mono gave his usual growl of agitation, his arms scrabbled with the Thin Man’s wrists but he failed to dislodge himself from the fingers locked around his waist. “Why are you like this?”

A steady hum filled the air around Mono’s head, as the Thin Man glared at his restrained arm. Mono kicked at nothing, the Thin Man wasn’t near enough to get smacked.

“Do you ever not manage to maim yourself? Boy.”

The glitchy distortion sent his head into a spiral, though nothing happened, aside from the Thin Man easing down to sit on the couch. As for Mono, with a growl he latched onto the space between the Thin Man’s thumb and forefinger. The Thin Man did nothing but crackle about him never getting all bloodied, or whatever. Mono focused on chewing on the hand.

“Why do I bother tending your wounds,” warbled the man in the hat. “Your mission is to wander off and get brutalized. More blood is on that coat than in you.”

The lack of reaction made Mono clamp down tighter, even if it did nothing. Maybe something would change. He would make something change. A disapproving gust reminded him that his hat was still missing.

“Very well. Get it out of your system.”

The fingers pressed into his spine and Mono hated it. He hated being small and not doing anything right. The Thin Man would find out Mono messed up, and another kid was gone. That was why the Thin Man didn’t want him around the other kids. He was danger and he didn’t like when Mono disappeared, cause the kids….. The Thin Man would find them. Nothing stopped the Thin Man.

“There is no need to blubber like that,” the voice crackled in his ears. “You found me. Such a clever little boy.”

“Little,” Mono murmured.

“Yes.” The hands fixed around his shoulders moved, and he could pluck his head up to see the shadowed face of the man and his hat gaze down on him, the eyes glinting. “Such a little self-important boy. You believe the world revolves around you.”

Mono couldn’t fathom what all the speek meant. He repeated without direction, “Little.”

“Little,” the static affirmed. “You are certainly not tall. Not for some time.”

The Thin Man made such strange speek. Always about ‘event-yulls’ and ‘pare-doxes’ or ‘somedays’. The tall thin man always insisted, one day he would be gone. Mono was always meant to be alone. Always.

Why could he not keep the Thin Man? It must have to do with the danger and the other children. The Thin Man didn’t know anything about the other kids. Someday that would all change. Just like Mono would fight the Tower, the Thin Man would have to go, too.

Mono was barely getting his feet tucked up and his face buried back into the Thin Man’s suit, when the hands pulled him away and set him on the cold floor. He didn’t stay put – he couldn’t! The Thin Man was already glitching across the room, his shoes tapped across the floor in their rhythmic way. The tall figure only paused in the archway briefly, the lamp barely catching the shimmery glint of static before the Thin Man disappeared.

It took Mono more time to reach the Thin Man. It did help that the Thin Man didn’t keep moving, and was even looking back as Mono rushed down the corridor. The tallest figure in all the city even stayed still as Mono raced all the way to him, his own steps slowing when he was a few steps from the shoes. Mono tilted his head far back and found the shining eyes watching him from beneath the shadow of the important hat.

A shiver twisted at Mono’s spine. He didn’t want the Thin Man to find out about the other kids. He wanted the Thin Man to stay and have company. And also – it scared him to think though – Mono didn’t care about the other kids. He didn't. This always happened, they ran away. They left Mono or got stole, or hurt him. The Thin Man didn't understand anything about children. He was too tol.

Even though he didn’t get a good look at the girl, he knew her face would find its way into his dream haunts. She was nothing but one of the many he failed, and the memories would haunt him. And he hated her for getting tricked. It wasn’t his FAULT! I̵t̸ ̴ w̷a̷s̵n̷'̴t̷!̷

He jolted when a weight settled onto his head. Roughly.

It was the Thin Man’s palm. He gave Mono’s head a rough pat before straightening and glitching away. The silhouette flashed further down the hall. The gesture didn’t make Mono feel better, it did the opposite. The act did mean something to Mono, and that was the Thin Man didn’t mind him chasing. Nothing would happen to the Thin Man. He wouldn't let it.

Choking back some of the knotting in his chest, Mono broke into another run. He chased after the steady threading of static humming in the dwelling, simmering beneath the cracking clicks of the Thin Man’s steps. Tick-tick, tick-tock – the same sharp chiming that rolled through the endless corridor Mono spent ages trying to reach the end of. Opening that door had been the worst thing he’d ever done, but it had also been his most favorite.

If not for the Thin Man trying to keep Her and him, then Mono would have no one.

Next

[captainjonnitkessler]

Just deleted the ask I was trying to respond to, but re: "skeptics always die in horror movies" - I have mixed feelings on that trope!

On the one hand I think it sets the tone and helps the audience suspend their disbelief - people are always complaining about horror movie characters being idiots, so this can be a way to be like "see? We DID consider rational explanations, and then someone immediately got murdered very supernaturally, so stop asking questions and accept the premise."

On the other hand, I think it definitely contributes to the idea that skeptics are close-minded killjoys who are too stubborn to accept reality, which is a very common and incredibly annoying mindset. Shane Madej did not spend the last eight years marching into haunted houses and loudly demanding that the demons inside kill him for me to still be hearing shit about how "if you don't take the supernatural seriously you will Attract Evil Energies And Die".

[flufflecat]

undefined

this is the most beautiful creature on earth and I will kill someone if it asks me to

[primussavethesemechs]

I’m back with more slightly disturbing thoughts about transformers.

Ok listen.

I think cybertronians should be more freaked out by the fact humans eat other living things.

Like come on, bots only ingest energon which is inanimate crystal juice, they’re regularly grossed out by normal organic functions, and you’re telling me they don’t bat at eye at the idea of their friendly little Sentient companions straight up killing other animals and eating them??? I feel like that should def cause more cognitive dissonance for them, esp autobots since they actually get close to humans.

Like I can see them being grossed out but accepting of the fact that wild animals eat each other- they are WILD animals and all, not exactly sentient or even necessarily intelligent after all. But HUMANS? The organic creatures that are the closest to them (going by tfp standards where they don’t mention many other organic species) in terms of structure and emotion and intelligence?? That has to be concerning on some level to them.

Referencing tfp and MTMTE where they have scraplets and sparkeaters, i feel like that’s what they’d kind of associate it with which would freak them out more. God forbid they hear about how common cannibalism is in survival situations, I don’t even know if they’d be able to sympathize the slightest bit with that considering as far as I know cannibalism Isn’t Really A Thing for them. That’s a thought in of itself tbh, would they be able to reckon with the concept of being so hungry you’d eat people you know, when it’s physically impossible for them to do that? How do you rationalize the choices others make in desperate situations when you know you’d never have to make that choice anyway and you’ll never have their perspective on it?

Anyways, I’m entertained by the idea of them being able to ignore stuff like nuggets or patties considering it doesn’t look recognizable as what it is but being downright repulsed by steaks, especially if its bloody or has bone visible. They don’t like the visual reminders of their sweet little organic friends consuming flesh and blood. Too freaky for them.

[world-of-puppets]

I have conflicted feelings about the FNAF series in general, but seeing a movie where practical animatronic puppets are the primary focus of the film becoming not only financially successful but also well received by general audiences is pretty damn neat.

[holofizz]

my distraction for today.

If I tried to flesh it out I'd lose track on everything else I'm supposed to be doing...

[seriousbrat]

btw why is wilkes always left out of slytherin skittles/death eater gang stuff. he's one of the people mentioned by sirius as being friends with snape and we know nothing about him other than he died, meaning he's fully projectable and unlike the lestranges he could actually have been at school with Sev and the others.

[thresholdbb]

Can we talk about The Dying Swan moment in Coda? As someone who was once a very serious ballerina, I need to talk about the Dying Swan. Here's your context --

CHAKOTAY: Harry's clarinet solo was okay. I could have done without Tuvok's reading of Vulcan poetry. But the highlight of the evening was definitely Kathryn Janeway portraying the Dying Swan. JANEWAY: I learned that dance when I was six years old. I assure you, it was the hit of the Beginning Ballet class.

Have you seen The Dying Swan? It is dramatic.

Here, take a minute:

First of all, this dance is much too advanced for a six-year-old, even if they’re doing it in demi pointe. (Six-year-olds emphatically should not be in pointe shoes btw.) The dance is almost entirely bourees and arm movements done to very subtle musical cues, not the foundational ballet moves typically taught in Beginning Ballet.

This is a very vulnerable, dramatic dance that is effective because of its subtleties. The performer would need to embody that vulnerability in some way for a convincing performance. It's short, but it's a solo piece -- all eyes on you. I mean, it was choreographed for a prima ballerina, BUT THAT'S NOT MY POINT

Can you imagine our unflappable Captain Janeway willingly getting in front of her crew to do this ballet? I get that it’s thematically relevant to the plot of Coda, but since Janeway is only vulnerable in front of her crew when it means putting herself in harm’s way, it seems like a wild decision. She tends to hold herself apart from her crew, maintaining the professional distance of the captain. Further, when she does any creative pursuit, it is almost always in private, since her sister was the artist in the family and she was the scientist. As a captain, she commands Voyager in a much different way than she would as a dancer with this piece. I'm not saying she never shows vulnerability because she definitely does, but not necessarily in this way. Then when she talks about it with Chakotay, she just casually brushes it off with a laugh like no big deal.

There’s also the question of costume – would she have gone full tutu? Done it in her Starfleet uniform? An impeccable yet flow-y white suit? She does get into costume and command a performance in Bride of Chaotica!, but Coda is still kind of early days for our captain. Arachnia aligns more with what we know about Janeway's character.

Granted, it is Chakotay laying down these complements about her dancing ability and he is clearly biased. To be fair, Neelix does too before they leave in the shuttle. If she did this dance and performed it poorly or amazingly, I feel like the crew would look at her a bit differently afterwards.

Canonically she did The Dying Swan, but I certainly have trouble picturing it happening.

[scribefindegil]

Fewer Troi-centric episodes about weird dudes being creepy to her, more Troi-centric episodes where she gets to be a cool spy and yell at Romulans! That ROCKED!!

[thebookworm0001]

I just think the fandom’s nastier responses to the bg3 men is wildly interesting

like. you have three men who are coming out of highly unhealthy relationships.

One of them gets super sexualized and infantilized at the exact same time. literally people put him in the bdsm harness while simultaneously misinterpreting elven cultural norms to say he’s mentally no more mature than a teenager despite having been a whole-ass local judge who died because he gave out corrupt rulings and got his ass jumped because of them.

the other gets treated like he’s an incel because he catches feelings quickly, despite being wildly respectful when you turn him down. Half the issues were due to a bug, the other is that this man is so starved for validation because his goddess - whom has paid special interest to him since he was a toddler - kept him constantly feeling lesser-than because despite calling him her Chosen, she gives him none of the power we see Chosens be given by other gods. Not to mention she sends her other ex - his mentor and friend - to tell him to off himself to earn her forgiveness. For some reason his attempts to gain god-like power are received worse than the borm-sexy-yesterday-vampire despite both of them having the goal of being safe from manipulation and control. I assume because the vampire gets a sex scene when you let him destroy his soul for power and the wizard does not.

The fairytale prince route, despite typically being very popular, is being called boring and dull and while, yes, he has less drama than some of the others, is still compelling and has high stakes for that character. He’s sold his soul but he thinks the price is worth it and he’s made his peace with the personal cost because he’s helping people. The only real difference between this character and others who are willing to sell their souls for the good of their lands is that this time around, he’s Black

[literalfuckingfreak]

also while im on it i dont care how magic a character is not everyone needs to have colored eyes. its like. fine to give people dark brown/ black eyes even if theyre "magical" or some shit.

[godblooded]

gale has a blue μάτι (evil eye) embroidered by his mother on the left sleeve of his robe. when he was a baby, he was gifted a gold bracelet with a simple μάτι in white enamel by his godfather. it’s traditional for the godparents to buy a μάτι baby bracelet for their godchild and it must always be worn on your left wrist. it’s not to be taken off, and if it breaks it means it protected you from ill intent and must be replaced. the μάτι wards off all evil and must be a gift bought by someone else. the reasoning for this is the μάτι is imbued with the good energy and love of the giver (this goes for all jewelry too) and therefore cannot be acquired by you, as is also tradition for any μάτι one purchases or acquires. his baby bracelet no longer fits him, and he’s never acquired an ‘adult’ μάτι, as he hasn’t yet found the perfect one that’s caught his eye.

all the trouble and crisis and mystra took him away from the possibility of such a mundanity, the simple promise of an imperative touch of memory, self. he wants his mother to buy him his adult μάτι, the one he will always wear on his left wrist. she embroidered the one in his robe. when he can, when it’s right, he wants to find her one fitting of one so spectacular as herself to craft for her. by his own hands or the meticulous hands of another, any mastery will do, but the beauty must be immaculate. perhaps an enchantment.

he still has his baby bracelet, which he cherishes as it has never broken. gale often makes sure to keep it tucked away on his person (always in the left pocket of a rucksack, always in the left inseam of his robe). he keeps it close, as its enchantment is all its own. he thinks of it as a talisman, a shield, as a boon to his courage; the strength of his family and all that came before them remembered in a trinket.

[captain-crowfish]

"What a blatant attempt to demonize and vilify Boxtrolls, all in the name of some twisted, anti-cardboard agenda. As if we don't have enough of this false rhetoric nonsense polluting our media landscape already. What, do you, so called "artists" think you're being politically correct by portraying Boxtrolls as these grotesque, monstrous creatures? 😒 It's nothing but a cheap ploy to appeal to the basest instincts of their cheese-eating, imperialist audience.

And the way they've chosen to depict this poor creature: all twisted and distorted, with those haunting, soulless yellow eyes, it's just a blatant attempt to strip away the inherent dignity and worth of our fellow sentient beings, my family. As if they're nothing more than mindless, savage beasts to be feared. Reported."

[natasha-in-space]

Show & Tell

Zen/gn!reader/Unknown;

You are meant to play the part bestowed upon you. That is all the purpose you will ever need. At least, that's what you are supposed to think. But, even the best of actors can forget their lines. Except, the one overlooking your play is not very forgiving.

Based on Zen's 3rd Bad Story ending.

Content warnings for: non-consensual drug-use, and overall Unknown being a very creepy bastard.

"A long time ago, in a land far away, there lived a beautiful silver-haired knight, and a kind-hearted prince/ss. Everything was well in their kingdom, until the prince/ss realized that their court was nothing but a bunch of traitors to the crown... filled with dirty liars and hypocrites. The prince/ss thought their loyal knight would come and save them, that they would run away together. But... alas, that did not happen."

A hushed, breathy voice travels throughout the spacious room, echoing against the thick walls of your own personal playhouse, almost like a phantom haunting its opera house. Only the heavy sounds of large boots against the wooden stage serve as a reminder, that there was a very real narrator present in this room, telling his rousing tale to a gracious audience of none. Your vision is spinning, your body too weak to even hold your head up properly. You would have probably collapsed if not for the comfortably cushioned throne reserved just for you to sit upon.

Oh, how gracious your host was, providing you with everything you could possibly need for you to stay as relaxed and comfortable as you can be. All you need to do in return is to sit there like a disciplined prince/ss you are, and listen. Your thoughts are far too jumbled to make sense of it all, anyway.

Unknown will do so for you.

"-The prince/ss had no idea that their beloved knight was in the same team with all the horrible liars. God... our poor, poor prince/ss..." The voice purrs, suddenly just a few inches away from you, and you feel a cold slender finger caress your cheek lovingly. You lean into the cool touch, a welcome change for the ever-growing fever burning you up from the inside out. Your eagerness is not unnoticed by Unknown, who chuckles in what seems to be amusement, and walks away, much to your visible dismay. He never gives you what you want, however small it is. You wonder if he finds some sick sense of enjoyment in teasing you with a carrot on a string like that. He continues his story, not addressing your little whine of displeasure in any way. Which is probably for the better. He didn't like whiny brats, after all.

"It's a good thing that... the prince/ss had a guardian angel looking over them. Waiting for a chance to take them under his caring wing, and guide them to paradise."

A moment of deafening silence passes, almost as if Unknown had to think over his narrative for a good while before continuing. You never could understand what was going through that head of his. His expression is stoic, unreadable. Almost like he's not even fully there, just staring ahead without seeing a thing. Stuck in his own perverted fantasy, rather than facing the reality in front of him. It's almost unnerving to look at. Then, a harsh clap makes you twitch in your seat, a numb ache drilling into your temples from the loudness of it bashing against your already overstimulated senses. The man didn't seem to care for your discomfort, though, simply patting you on the head as if you were nothing but a plush toy.

"...How about it, party coordinator!? Hm? A beautiful story, no?"

You open your mouth to say something - anything - but, all that comes out is a single raspy breath, your thoughts tangling together into one blurred lump of obscure concepts, before you could latch onto even a single word for you to utter aloud. Unknown appears to be unaffected by your lack of a proper response, though. It's like he doesn't even see you as a human. Just an inanimate object to play around with.

His pretty doll to put on this twisted play with.

His footsteps grow farther away from you as he pulls away from you once again. Then, a gentle sound of a curtain being pulled back, the fabric tossed unceremoniously onto the stage and sliding off of it to crumple up somewhere beneath it. A beautiful decorations turned into a useless floor mop in a single move. A grim reminder that nothing in this room was truly valuable in its master's eyes. Including you.

You decide to look up towards the sound, your vision bleary as you stare ahead, trying to force your brain into actually processing what you see, instead of just letting it stay an unfocused blob of shapes and colors. Your cloudy gaze meets a similar one of a breathtaking ruby color. Like two spectacular jewels shining in brilliant stage lights, brighter than any of them, yet so dull and lifeless at the same time. Something pulls at your insides once you make eye contact with a beautiful silver-haired stranger sitting opposite from you. It's urging you to fight against the heavy fog filling your head like some higher power you have no control over. A name sits just on the tip of your tongue, yet so far away. It perches itself right in the middle of your throat like a lump of acidic bile, scratching painfully at your esophagus, suffocating you from the inside out. Demanding to be set free, yet warning you against it.

You... knew this person. From somewhere. You wonder... if maybe... just maybe-

"And, here's our noble knight!" You quickly redirect your attention back to Unknown, internally berating yourself for getting distracted from what's truly important here. His leather jacket is exposing his boney shoulder to you, a large intricate image of an eye boring straight into your soul. The symbol is a familiar one. But, in a different way. It leaves your skin prickling with a disgusting sensation of cold sweat dripping down your back. You suddenly start to feel nauseous for some reason.

...You look away from it.

Instead, your raise gaze eyes at Unknown's face. His mint eyes sparkle in blinding lights of the makeshift stage he has put up just for you. It's the complete opposite of the dull and unfocused look present in the Knight's stare. There is an almost childlike glee swimming in his irises while he looks between you and the Knight, as if he is pursuing your personal approval in this intricate game of make-believe. Yet, it does not feel innocent nor really happy in nature. His grin is a sadistic one. Callous. Heartless. Lacking of any true warmth and affection for you, no matter what friendly front he tries to put on in front you. It makes you gulp, a silent warning of danger lurking in those cold eyes that does not escape you, even through the thick fog filling your head. He has you trained well, after all.

So, despite your ever growing discomfort gripping at your guts, you make sure to play your role diligently. You smile, providing him with appreciation he wordlessly demands from his prince/ss. His wicked grin widens once he sees your positive reception, his chest puffing out in what looks like pride, as he now stands behind the Knight, placing his hands onto his shoulders. His posture is relaxed, yet you can see his long fingers digging into the Knight's shoulders with way more force than necessary. Through it all, his gaze never leaves you, not even for a second. It feels suffocating. Like he's searching for any sign of imperfection in your behavior, however small, eager to teach his favorite pet a new lesson.

You remain still.

"-Eventually, the Knight did come running for our prince/ss, but... he was too late."

A small, pained groan falls from the Knight's lips, his appearance rather disheveled despite the gorgeous attire he was dressed in to make him look dignified. There are dark rings imbedded into his skin under his eyes, even more noticeable due to the sick paleness of his otherwise flawless complexion. Blemishes and cuts peek out from just underneath the frilly costume. But, you know Unknown prefers his pretty Fairytale to the ugly Truth. So, you pay no mind to imperfections bleeding into your play.

Yet, something tugs at your heartstrings once again the moment the Knight looks on at you, his brows furrowing just a tiny bit as he takes you in. It was unclear if he was feeling confused or distressed. A sudden desire to reach out and cup his cheek unexpectedly fills your senses. A want bring him comfort. A wish to pull him close. A longing to utter the same name that has been gnawing at your throat like a vicious parasite for a good while now. If it wasn't for the fatigue weighing your limbs down in invisible heavy chains of pure steel, you would have probably tried to move towards him without a second thought.

As you grapple with your frazzled mind abruptly acting up against you, the Knight's silver hair was now being combed through and played with by Unknown. With a smirk playing on his chapped lips, he leans in to murmur into the Knight's ear: "Fortunately, there is a happy ending to this fairytale of yours, noble Knight. But, it is up to me to write it."

His words were hopeful, but they still sent a cold chill down your spine for some reason. A sentiment reciprocated by the Knight, judging by the way his hands clenched tightly where they rested on his throne's arm rest.

"N-No..."

His voice is quiet and raspy. Yours is very similar. It makes your breath hitch in the middle of your throat painfully, your body impulsively leaning towards the two men in front of you. An action not going unnoticed by Unknown, who raises a brow at you pointedly.

You take the hint.

...So, you return back to your place without a word.

"...No...? Oh, but that's not in the script, noble Knight! I thought you were a talented actor, are you not?" Unknown mocks, seemingly more amused than angry at the Knight's disobedience. He tightens his grip on the other man's chin and lifts his head up to make him look him directly in the eye. The Knight groans, probably because of the unpleasant feeling of vertigo caused by such harsh movements. You know Unknown doesn't care for his discomfort. Much like he doesn't care for yours. You are just glad that it's not you who's on the receiving end of his attention right now. He continues, his tone suddenly shifting from mocking to shockingly tender. The change is so quick, it almost gives you a whiplash. "Poor, poor Knight... Is your head hurting? Here, take the magic potion to make all your pain disappear... This one was specially manufactured by me. Just for you."

Unknown pulls out a familiar mint liquid shimmering inside a small flask, and you immediately look away from the scene, your entire face scrunching up at the mere sight of it, almost involuntarily. Just seeing that specific shade of mint brings back the bitter taste of pungent chemicals burning at your lips that you are painfully familiar with. You just stare ahead blankly, listening to the gruesome sounds of coughing, gagging and choking that soon follow. It's a grisly change from the soft-spoken narration that was filling the room just moments prior. What you focus on, though, is the quiet murmurs of encouragements Unknown was cooing to the Knight as the acrid liquid pours down his throat forcefully, burning anything it touches, without any mercy.

You couldn't understand Unknown. One moment he could be cruel, and the next he could be loving. Cold and indifferent, and then almost giddy with some twisted sense of excitement. With him in the room, you always feel like you are walking the thinnest of tightropes, just on the edge of plummeting down into the abyss filled with dozens of wolves hungry for your blood, and all it would take is just a single wrong move from you. Today, though, he seems to be in a rather good mood.

You don't know how happy you should be about that, though.

After the flask falls to the floor with a loud clatter, you look up and witness an eerie sight unfolding before you. Unknown's hands are now gripping the Knight's chin and wrist in a rather painful-looking grasp, forcing him into what he probably perceives as an honorable pose: with the Knight's head held high and one of his arms stretching out towards you. It looks rather disturbing, though, as you take note of the Knight's labored breaths and an ugly stain of mint against his pretty clothes. You can see him actively struggling not to throw up, his lips trembling, and his face even paler than it was before, twisted in an expression of agony that left your chest burning for a completely different reason than that same hazy fever weighing you down.

You were intimately familiar with that horrid experience. You stayed still for that exact reason. Not wanting to be on the receiving end of the Unknown's 'help' next. Maybe a bit cowardly of you, but you did not care.

"-C'mon! Act happy! You said your dream is to act until you die. That's what you said at your last punishment, is it not?"

Unknown is merciless towards the poor man, shaking him like a ragdoll and only making his already rather dizzy state even worse. Then, he looks up at you and jerks his head at you, indicating that he wants you to come over. You freeze, suddenly more uncomfortable than you've ever felt before. But, you know better than to resist. So, you listen. Pushing through the fatigue and pain screaming at you to stay still, you stand up from your throne slowly, and clumsily make your way over to the two men opposite from you, struggling not to trip over your own two feet, with how shaky they felt under you.

Unknown grins, looking at you with a glint of pride in his eyes. It almost makes up for the nausea and weakness you have to endure constantly. Almost. You do end up stumbling as you finally walk up to them, but Unknown graciously moves over to hold you up, his hands gripping your waist in a rather gentle hold for someone so brutal in his ways. It makes you want to lean against him, to let him support you when you can't stand. But... you know he won't do that. And, just as quickly as his hands grab you, they are suddenly gone.

And you realize that you are now seated on the Knight's lap.

The beautiful silver-haired man, now in such close proximity to you, was so close that you could make out each individual lash fluttering around his dangerously attractive eyes of scarlet hue. Though, now that you were able to stare at them that much closer, you could see tiny dots if mint mudding that pretty shade of red. You didn't like that. He seems to share your bewildered and enthralled state of mind, gazing down at you with a shocked expression that probably echoed your own.

The spell breaks once you hear Unknown's voice echoing against the walls around you, now circling you two like a hungry cat playing with its food. Even though you don't look back at him, you can still hear a smirk present in his voice as he begins to utter his next words to you in a gentle hiss flowing through the air. You wonder if that's how the jealous Serpent's words of corruption sounded to Eve, as it whispered its sweet deception into her ears with a false promise of greater knowledge. It makes you clutch onto the Knight's shirt tighter than would be considered appropriate, making his breath hitch at your touch.

"Now, this time, make sure to court your beloved prince/ss with true love they deserve. You owe them this much for all the ugly lies you poisoned them with." Unknown's voice is husky, almost quiet enough for you to miss it completely. Yet, for some strange reason, it fills your ears with such force that he might as well be yelling. You gaze up at the Knight, refusing to move a single muscle. There is some wordless understanding flickering between you two, one that you cannot recognize fully due to the hazy state of your mind. But, you can feel it. A timid ticklish sensation fluttering somewhere deep within your ribcage, like a butterfly that has just come out of its cocoon and doesn't have the strength to take flight just yet.

Then, a hand reaches for your cheek. You jolt, the tiniest of gasps escaping past your lips at the unexpected touch that leaves your skin tingling with an uncomfortable warmth that spreads down your neck and pools right in the center of your chest. And then, the Knight's face is just inches away from yours. His breaths are tickling the flush skin of your cheeks with gentle puffs of air. The feeling send your entire body buzzing with some strange energy you can't quite put your finger on. The footsteps circling around you immediately come to an abrupt stop, a heavy silence filling the room once more. If not for the deafening pounding of your heart almost rupturing your eardrums, that is.

"...I think... I've seen you somewhere before..."

The Knight's raspy voice is so close to you that it makes your head spin. You are now fully aware that you have heard that voice before. There is no doubt about it. Just not that dull and hoarse. It reawakens something buried deep within you. A flicker of common sense that got fizzled out by a certain slender boney hand. It sparkles to life, its timid flame burning brighter and brighter, fighting intensively and desperately against the drugged darkness of dissociation you were forcefully put in. Your breathing quickens, your hands begin to tremble where the clutch onto the Knight with their unsteady grip. They are fuzzy, very fuzzy, but you are sure you can remember some instances of you and the Knight sharing some precious moments together.

No... Not you and Knight... You know who this is. How could you not? You've grown so close to him in such a short amount of time. A dazzling actor with a heart so passionate for all that he does, it swept you off your feet.

-But, just as you open your mouth to finally utter the name that has been on the back of your mind this whole time, a cold hand suddenly grips your cheeks in a vice grip, and a deceivingly cheerful voice rings out right next to your ear, making you wince from the harsh loudness of it.

"...I'm your love! Your prince/ss! And you are my Knight."

You suppose this was Unknown's attempt to impersonate your voice. Or maybe it's a mockery. You couldn't really tell. Either way, it was a rather poor attempt for sure. You didn't know if you should feel offended or not. Do you seriously sound like that to him?

Maybe it shouldn't be surprising that he doesn't even see you as an equal. However, that reminder still hurts. In a peculiar surface-level way.

"...You are the prince/ss... I am the Knight..." Your attention is stolen away as the Knight repeats your lines that came from Unknown's lips, sounding like a lifeless robot attemting to poorly imitate human speech. It didn't sound like his voice at all. You frown and are not happy with it. You are not happy with it at all. Without thinking, you lean in, the grip of your hands on his shirt loosening ever so slightly as your lips just about brush against the damp skin of his cheek. That wasn't a kiss, really. You just had a hard time coordinating your movements, so, once you leaned in, your sense of balance was thrown off, and you ended up bumping against him innocently.

But, once you notice your mistake, you don't move away. You don't try to fix it. You don't try to go back to the script you were meant to play. You simply remain in that spot. Frozen. Holding in a breath as your wide eyes stare back into a pair of dull vermillion ones, just as astounded as yours are. Then, you see something change in them. A glimer of reason. Of humanity. Of some deep-rooted fondness for you that was now brought back to life, much like the one you felt simmer within you moments prior.

You feel a pair of large hands suddenly grip your shoulders, bringing you closer to the man in front of you, making your breath hitch. Until you are pressed flush against him, his chest against yours, and your nose tucked into the crook of his neck. It feels almost desperate - the way he holds you close to him. It's like he's trying to protect you from something. You feel him begin to tremble, his breaths short and quick as he shakes his head, his voice sounding so much more life-like now, but still so disoriented, it makes your heart ache.

"No... No. You... You- Y-Y/N...?"

There. The illusion shatters into pieces.

"Stop, stop-!"

You almost whimper and cover yourself as the harsh screech tears through your eardrums. The enticingly soft baritone of Unknown's narration was lost. Replaced by the grating and high-pitched shriek of rage that left you shaking from fear and wanting to run away as fast as you can. Yet, you remain frozen, not even shaking as you sit, stiff as a statue. It's like the fear paralyzed you. Your mind was running a hundred miles per minute, yet your body didn't move a single inch. It was a really uncomfortable feeling to grapple with. Almost like you were locked within your own body, unable to control it the way you were supposed to.

Then, you are harshly yanked back by the collar of your shirt and forced to stumble onto your legs, which quickly give out from under you this time around. It was already hard enough to keep your balance, but with the cold fear gripping your limbs, it was practically impossible. So, you tumbke down onto your knees, like a helpless doll, unable to stand upright without its master holding its strings. Your incompetence elicits an almost guttural growl from Unknown, who stares down at you with pure fury written all over his rather delicate features. It makes you want to shrivel up, crawl into the nearest hole, and die. He roughly pulls you back up, his fingers digging into your forearms rather painfully as he holds you up. Something that is clearly annoying him greatly, and he makes no effort to hide it.

Which is ironic, considering he's the reason you can't even stand straight in the first place.

"Looks like our prince/ss may need more training after all... What a waste." He spats out that last word with such contemt, you swore a part of you has died right then and there. "I guess it's back to the basement for you, party coordinator. I can't have you saying anything stupid on me, can I?"

Before you have any chance to protest, beg, or cry, you are pushed back onto your throne, left to wait for your inevitable punishment. The word 'basement' alone made you want to scream. It's like your body and mind have already learned what that word meant for you, pushing them to go into overdrive just from hearing it. Yet, you are still just as helpless. Trapped within your own weakened body and left at the mercy of Unknown.

As you sit there and grapple with your ever-growing panic, he turns his attention back to the Knight. Or, to be more precise, Zen. No need for any roles when the fairytale has already been sullied.

"You are not ready to be on stage yet." He mutters under his breath, one of his hands now gripping onto the other man's chin as he brings his face almost uncomfortably close, until he's mere inches away from him. You can't see the expression on his face as he has his back to you. But, Zen's eyes flick between you and Unknown, reflecting your fear. The feeling of powerlessness is almost suffocating. Not only can't you help yourself, but you also can't do a single thing for Zen as well. You are both just two dolls for Unknown to mold to his liking.

Or, rather, his Savior's liking.

"-Your eyes are lying."

Unknown's hiss is full of frustration and resentment. You are wondering why he has such a strong dislike for Zen. With you, he seems to be more annoyed at your inability to follow his wishes. Like a kid, irritated at his toy not working properly. But, with Zen? It's almost like he's actively shaping him into something else not out of his own personal twisted desire to do so, but because it's what he has been assigned to do. In other words, forced to.

You wince as you see Unknown's fingernail digging into the other man's skin, just beneath his eye. It's almost like he's holding himself back from actively gouging his eyes out right then and there. The mental image almost makes you want to throw up, frankly. And, the mere fact that you were actually considering such a gruesome thing as a very real possibility... it disturbed you.

"You will play the role you were given. It's only a matter of time. And, as for the prince/ss..." He looks back at you, his expression dark as he looks over you thoughtfully. His stare makes your skin crawl. "I'll take good care of them."

A cruel smile spreads over his face as he stands back from the poor actor. He extends his arms and circles you two once more. But, this time, his voice is loud and commanding. Each word seeping into your ears and digging into your psyche like a swarm of vicious leeches, eager to gobble up what little remained of your common sense.

"And then, we'll start our play again. From the very beginning. Over... and over... and over again. However long it takes. Time is not a problem when you're in Paradise!"

"Now... shall we begin?"

His cold hand gently caresses the side of your face as he stops just behind you. His touch is no longer providing you with any relief. It only heightens the feeling of dread enveloping you like a dense cloud of smoke.

[aroaessidhe]

2024 reads / storygraph

A Botanical Daughter

historical fantasy

a taxidermist and botanist who live in a greenhouse in a botanical garden, far away from the disapproval of Victorian London

when they receive a shipment of a strange sentient fungi, they cultivate it inside a corpse of a recently murdered girl - who was the best friend/lover of their new housekeeper

as she grows and expands her desires they have to deal with their feelings about the potential monster they’ve created

[sysig]

The most fun you can have, barring the pain and torture (Patreon)